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dragonmuse · 6 months

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Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

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diejager · 8 months

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begging for more monster 141🙏🙏🙏

hear me out- reader is a host to venom but has it hidden and they find out maybe…?

(i got hyper fixated on blue’s au and SCOURING the internet💀)

What if… Hunter was Venom?

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x venom reader

Cw: blood and gore, canon typical violence, head eating, gaslighting by Hunter, injury, fighting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Only Human masterlist

Sometimes, they’d find you mumbling to yourself, voice so low that, unless they were a hybrid or had impeccable hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was a ne’er silent whisper of harsh words or soft coos towards a being they couldn’t see. Were you talking to someone on your headset? Were you wearing EarPods to talk to someone? Or had you lost some screws in your mind after working with them for so long? None of them truly knew, but they wouldn’t bother you with it when you never bothered them with pesky questions that sounded insulting to them. After all, why would they bother their adorably useful and resourceful medic? You were the beating heart of the Task Force, you made it whole and functioning. Yet, they couldn’t stop the curiosity that festered in their mind, the need to know what made you talk to yourself, mumbling and cursing when you were alone.

Nothing seemed out of order, you were still strong-headed and scolding them like you did the day before, mumbling about Soap’s recklessness and Gaz’s impending fate of falling out of airborne vehicles. About Price’s habit of working too hard, pushing his already pained body to work. Pulling Ghost by the - bloody and soiled - sleeve to your infirmary with a deep frown and eyes glinting with the promise of retribution for the hybrid that hid whatever ailed him from you; you were the medic for Pete’s sake! It was your duty to watch over them. Hounding Alejandro for his medical check after a deployment because, as handsome and dependable as he was, he liked hiding his wounds. Running after Rudy for his checkups while he was limping or trying to avoid you. Calling after Horanji for his share of the affection, needle, scalpel, bandage and all, he needed and deserved all the others received. Or sitting beside König, reminiscing about your early days, where taking care of your patients was as easy as taking care of König was, grateful and pliant, showering you with love and adoration before, during and after the procedures.

You had your plate full with them, so it’d be unheard of if you had time to care for others. You might’ve been a medic on base, but your priorities and loyalties lay with them, with Task Force 141 and its allies. However being a - their - medic, didn’t mean you were free from any pain, fear or quirkiness as they were. You were as weird and as awful as every single one of them was, wearing it pridefully on your chest when you stood with them; even if you were wholly human - or you were supposed to.

Ghost caught fleeting moments where a dark mass would move around you, a glistening blob of marble-like texture with silver rivers running across it. It was near impossible to see it when it would disappear once it felt - even the slightest indication - the presence of another living being, like an illusion of trick of the light. That’s what you told them, it was simply a trick of the light or something because you didn’t know anything about an ugly blob. It was told slowly and persuasively with a wince once the words “ugly blob” left your mouth, a pained grimace as if something was grating your ears or claws were digging into your mind. When he brought it up with Gaz - who had impeccable eye-sight, the harpy would agree, spewing words about it having a menacing face with wide, pointed eyes and a mouth full of teeth. Big and sharp teeth that seemed alien-like. It couldn’t have been the trick of the light, especially since both of them saw the same thing. They asked you once more, together this time, but you’d reassured them that they were both tired when they’d seen this blob. You were tired and sometimes saw moving forms from the corner of your eyes too, so it might’ve been hysteria - collective hysteria.

Soap, if he tried hard enough, would sometimes hear a deep voice echo around you. It wasn’t something disturbingly deep, or annoyingly alien, it was pleasingly deep with a smooth undertone to its growls. It would send chills up his spine when he heard it, but he would always catch your voice talking back to it. He’d hear hisses and curses, some more unusual and others more normal: “I can’t eat my teammates!”, “I told you no!”, “Stop eating heads! People will catch on!” or “Can you shut up?” and “I can’t concentrate with you screaming my head off!” Soap, knowing how good Alejandro’s hearing was, asked if the Mexican had heard you speak with an unknown voice, specifically a male voice. A few muffled conversations between you and an unknown man and sometimes one-sided, but, simply put, Alejandro had witnessed the same occasions as the Scot had. It wasn’t unusual to talk to yourself, would it? Soap liked to boost his own morale with confident words and flattering compliments to himself. Alejandro wasn’t a stranger to mumbling to himself either, cursing his choice in life and how he ended up with his - lovable - problem-causing band of vagabonds.

If you weren’t careful or unintentionally careless, there would be a distinct odour clinging to your skin. It would be strong and pungent, the smell fresh and metallic-like. König knew it well, he craved as much as he wanted to bathe in it, the sweet smell of blood. How could he not recognize the faintest whiff of blood when it often drove him mad with bloodlust and the uncontrollable need to fall into a daze of primal hunger? It stuck to you like a second layer of skin, thin and always present. It sewed into the fundamentals of your scent, the tinge of iron mixed into the sweet, syrupy musk. It drove him mad with need, thirsting for the thing that made you smell so delicious. It clung to you as if you bathed in blood, drinking and devouring it, yet your skin was clean, with no speck of red under your nails, on your skin or between your teeth. In a worry, he went to Price, The Captain had the most knowledge about you and König could trust him to take good care of him, being a dragon. He expected the Brit to know something, even the slightest change, but Price hadn’t caught anything odd about you. Perhaps it clung to you because of your closeness to him, Percht hybrids - although rare - were ferociously unpredictable and ravenously bloodthirsty.

Rudy was the more human of them, so he caught on to the changes in behaviours and habits of others easily. You’d act odd at times, shoulders slightly tense and back slumped inward, body tired but unable to relax. He wanted to help, he proposed, but you’d turned him down, telling him you were fine, that you were just restless from being off duty for so long or for being worked to the bone. He would also catch you subtly avoiding them without ringing any bells, seeming occupied with other things while whispering under your breath; your slower reactions to their banter and the darker bags under your eyes, wearing that dazed and blank look in them while you sat with them; or the strong growl of your stomach and the slight rubbing of your stomach, soothing an ache that rooted so deeply in your abdomen. He worried, often, if he was honest. Even Horangi, a man oblivious to most cues and behaviours in humans, saw the subtle change in your behaviour when you acted odd. He pointed out the rings under your eyes, your fatigued and distracted mind, and your lip-gnawing hunger. For a hybrid that had so much difficulty grasping and understanding humans, he caught on to your change abnormally quickly, even with the excessive chocolate consumption.

They were all suspicious and you, their sweet and convincing medic, had them doubting what they saw, your gaslighting working on them as easily as a child bribed with candy. It didn’t make you feel less guilty or disappointed in yourself, but you weren’t sure how they’d react to him, not being human or a monster. He was a creature out of the pages of a sci-fi novel, a creation of the human mind and imagination. Venom was an alien, something from outer space. You were convincing until you couldn’t anymore.

Let me take over, the soothing voice uttered to you, calling out your name in a concerned tone. Let me protect you.

You were compromised, the enemy had tapped into your line, listening in on your conversations and movements. That’s how they were able to separate most of you, to turn the squad of nine operators down to four smaller teams, all on the run and trying to stick to the shadows without calling to the others through the comms. You were crouched over Gaz, whispering sweet nothings to the hissing man. You soothed his ache, hand and mind strained on the bleeding wound on his forearm, his beautiful, bronze skin stained with crimson in the hot and humid air of Columbia.

Blood rolled down his tense arm, over his round muscle and sweaty skin, it was a clean graze, the blunt head of the bullet grazing his arm deep enough for it to bleed but shallow enough for it not to leave him incapacitated with blood loss. It was a ray of light in your dreadful situation. You had his wound cleaned and wrapped up, congratulating him for pushing through and helping him up. You cursed the enemy, wondering how the low-stake in-and-out ops suddenly turned out to be an extremely high-stake one with minimal possibility of reaching the evacuation point.

“C’mon Gaz, we need to move,” you whispered to him, holding your rifle closely to your chest while you walked around the shadows of Guaitarilla’s back alley and dark corners. “We need to regroup at the evacuation point.”

“Yeah, good plan,” he nodded, following your lead even though he was higher-ranked than you, but in such situations, survival was the priority.

You stuck to alleys, using the shadows to hide from the patrolling cartel that had the town surrounded, it nearly baffled you with the speed of their defences and counter-attack if you hadn’t heard of Las Almas’ attack from El Sin Nombre and The Shadows from you teammates. Although you couldn’t admire them, you could respect their skills and ability, you only wished it was for you rather than against you.

While you watched ahead, Gaz had your back, peering around the corner before giving him the green to move. It was a rotation between who went first and who looked back, but you made it work with only you both. You were so careful, yet it somehow wasn’t enough, someone had noticed you and it sent you and Gaz rushing for cover, to escape the group of dispatched cartel members. It was stupid, running without looking where you were heading towards. It was stupid to let the enemy tap into your comms. It was stupid, the situation you got yourself into.

You were backed into a corner, Gaz standing before you like a protective shield between you and the enemy, his rifle pointed toward the quickly advancing group. You wanted to protest about him using his wings to cover you, his wide, brown feathers expanded to hide you from those men. He was already hurt from pulling you away from harm, but he was now standing protectively before you. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you, not anymore.

Little One, his voice rang once more in your head, the reassuring pressure of his presence in your body calming you down by an inch. Let me take over.

If you let him take control of your body, it would ensure your and Gaz’s safety, then you could reach the others that you’d lost in the chaos of the battle. While you wore the combat medic’s patch proudly, your prior training before taking up your 16 weeks of medical training wasn't lost to you. You remembered how to aim and shoot, how to snipe an enemy from afar and protect your teammates from whatever danger you faced. None were lost to you, and you’d use every bit of training you had to protect them, whether it was as yourself or with Venom’s help. Venom’s help was undoubtedly useful, and right now, you needed him.

“Please, Venom,” you spoke aloud, your soft voice carrying through the blocked alley.

“Who-” Gaz asked, confusion laced his tone, the question left unspoken as Venom’s deep, rattling voice boomed across the tight space.

“We are Venom, flesh bag,” he growled, body crouching down, not dissimilar to a feline laying prone while it waited for the right moment to attack, and pounced at the men.

Don’t call Gaz flesh bag, Venom, you whined, your voice echoing in your shared subspace of your mind.

“If that is what you wish.”

His heavy mass landed on a man, pushing him to the ground with a loud crack. You imagined that Venom either broke his back or a few of the Colombian’s ribs, it was sickeningly delightful, the sadistic pleasure from Venom sent you reading with mirth. His hands stretched to abnormal lengths to swing at the enemies with practised ease and familiarity. Whether they’d die from blunt force trauma from Venom’s strength or live with a concussion, none mattered to him, hunger raked his being, the throb aching in the back of his mind. It was a moment where he was let loose, where you wouldn’t need to gorge on an extreme amount of chocolate to keep him fed. This would keep him satisfied for a few weeks.

Venom pulled the first two in, his jaw widening to clamp down on their neck. Gaz saw the dangerous gleam of Venom’s teeth, rows of pristine and immaculate teeth the size of a finger bled the man’s head red in a single bite. He shivered at the decapitated body that fell from your monster’s hand as he went for the second and third Colombian. He made a show of viciousness and raw, unadulterated bloodthirst with his eating. Fortunately, apart from the bloody mess and dead bodies, Venom was a relatively neat eater, licking his teeth clean from the red stains with a long, slimy tongue. Gaz couldn’t shake how your monster made him apprehensive, his body flinching and trembling at the greater being.

“Let’s go, The Little One wants to rescue the others,” Venom’s grating voice shook Gaz out of his stupor.

“Hu-Hunter’s there?”

Venom nodded, his mass retreating into your body, the mass melting into you like a second skin. It was as if Venom was never there, as if it was all his delusional imagination. Gaz rushed to you, his hands grabbing hold of you as he shook you in his grasp, he cursed in worry, concern lacing every word he spewed in a tornado of fear, curiosity and confusion. His soft feathered wings cradled you, casting a protective shadow over you as you hid in the darkness of the alley.

“Gaz, we have to go,” you murmured to him, your voice soft and reassuring, trying to help him walk off the edge you were pushed to. You both were safe for now, the cartel that had followed you all laid dead without their heads in a thick puddle of their viscera. “We have to find the others.”

He let out a shaky sign, his head nodding in affirmation at your comforting words. He loved that about you, that ability to heal and mend their ache and anguish with a smile and sweet words. Then, pairing your softness with your stubborn viciousness made you a gem within the military, a one-in-a-million for them. Yet, all that clouded his mind were questions, about your safety, about that monster that melted into you, about what kind or what it was. Gaz had so many questions that he’d push back for the greater good of rescuing the rest of the Task Force, he’d hound you for answers later when everyone was back together.

When Venom resurfaced, retaking control of your shared body, he’d reassured you that he knew where they were, his body being hyper-aware of the things that made you smile and laugh. You were his host and his joy. It was an easier job than the two of you - you and Gaz - had expected, Venom’s claws digging into the buildings as he scaled the walls to reach the roof. From then, he pulled nothing back, rushing forward with the same enthusiasm as König had when he led first, and leaped, the muscles of his legs pushing him high across the buildings with Gaz flying beside him.

Venom had made quick work of the situation, his body invulnerable to anything but loud sounds and fire, which none had since it was a rainy night. You found Horangi and Alejandro first, Venom doing what he knew best: protecting you, in relation, what you loved too, and feeding on human heads, the chemicals in the human brains nurturing him. Alejandro and Horangi were naturally confused and distrustful of Venom, but you had Gaz to smooth things over, and knowing that Venom’s way of speaking was curt and up-to-point - annoyingly blunt - it made your body soar with relief. They, albeit confused and curious, followed you from the ground as Venom cleared a path to the next ones.

Price, Rudy and Soap were the biggest team from your unexpected separation. They jumped at Venom’s appearance, Soap throwing threats at him when he took a step towards them. That was expected, Venom - even being the symbiote you were hosting - was a stranger to them and Soap reacted according to his instincts. That blaring, red light that signalled his brain to send his body on complete guard about the danger, Venom couldn’t escape a werewolf’s keen situational awareness. You’d taken the initiative to calm them down, seeing as everyone was already down, the enemy loaded with bullets and dying in a pool of their blood. You kept the explanation short and simple, giving them the important points before promising to tell Price everything he wanted to know after you found Ghost and König.

Those two were harder to find, forcing Venom to extend himself to sense the slightest presence of either man. It couldn't be easier that Ghost was a wraith, being able to disappear and appear at will and that König knew very well how to hide, perhaps as well as Ghost could. When Venom found them, Ghost shot first, “shoot first, questions later” seemed to lead his decisions with König not far behind him. He brought his arms forward to protect himself and you, hidden within his mass. Venom growled but didn’t attack them, hissing the words you spoke to him to them. It was a simple quote that you’d shared with them in situations where they needed to find you between the hostages or under disguise.

Like calls to like.

It was simple, but telling. They stopped the moment Venom uttered them, knowing well you were inside Venom, Gaz landing before him and the others steadily arriving behind the two. Task Force 141 was finally complete, from the most humane to the most chaotic hybrid, some were hurt, grazed, protrusions, and stabbed, but all were alive. You were glad, you were really, really happy that everyone was safe and alive.

Seated in the Razor, the silence and tension were thick within the cargo hold, Horangi and Gaz framing your sides with Price taking the seat across from you. You could see the stress and tension rolling off his shoulder after treating everyone, his brows furrowed and a frown curled his lips under his beard. Beside him was Alejandro and Ghost, both - like everyone else - wearing a confused and disgruntled expression on their face, their eyes gleaming with questions left unsaid. You’d left them wondering if their minds were playing tricks on them, if they were seeing things, if they were imagining things and if they were losing their minds. You understood the anger, but you had your reasons to hide Venom’s existence.

Price crossed his arms, legs spread wide as he leaned back, his head tipped back with an inquisitively serious look. He raised a brow at you, waiting to see if you could prove your case or if you had anything to add before he started. With nothing to say, you bit your bottom lip, your shoulders screwed with anxiety and fear. You didn’t know what to expect now that your well-kept secret was out.

“We have a lot to talk about, Hunter.”

“I know, Captain.”

Better sooner than later, leaving it to fester and grow would be bad for the TF’s morale and relations.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness

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ellecdc · 2 months

Text

A Man With a Plan.4

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: brief mention of a sexual encounter (non-explicit)

The following week-and-a-half was both chaotic and painful for (likely everyone involved, but specifically for) Remus Moony Remus (& Moony).

Remus (under the watchful glare of one Sirius Orion Black) apologized to James for speaking so rudely to him, and to Peter for upsetting the room.

Pete was quick to forgive him, whilst James just asked, “are you ready to talk about it?”. Remus replied no, James said “talk to me when you are”, and the two haven’t spoken much since.

The closer and closer Remus got to the full moon, the more incessant Moony became. Even if you weren’t around, Moony was whining after you. When you were around, Moony was begging for you.

Remus, much to Moony and Sirius’s (never mind his own) chagrin, would hear your soft lilting voice moving down the hall speaking to James, and would quickly grab Amelia and find the closest broom closet.

After the 3rd or 4th time, he was starting to look like a horny pre-teen who just discovered playboy magazines.

But while Amelia was on her knees and his hand was on the back of her head, he could muffle the howling and yipping of the angry wolf for at least the moment, and it felt like enough.

Until it wasn’t.

“Stop, stop.” He groaned as he pulled away from Amelia’s wandering hands. She looked quite lovely – flushed, slightly damp and pupils blown wide, but Remus couldn’t appreciate much of anything with the chorus of ‘Need, need, need, need. Mine, mine, mine, mine’ inside his mind.

“What is it, baby?” She cooed at him. Remus had to fight back a grimace at the nickname.

“I ca-I can’t do this right now.” He said, bringing his hand to his mouth; he suddenly felt queasy.

“Are you sure? I can be a good girl for you.” She purred.

“No.” he said as he flung the door to the broom closet and nearly collided with you.

Dammit, how were you everywhere!?

“Oh, hello Remus! Are you alright?” You asked him.

Mine.

Remus could only let out a keening sound in response – hand still pressed to his mouth.

Your eyes seemed to flit around his being – not actually looking at him but around him as your mouth pinched in concern.

“No, not alright at all.” You answered your own question, speaking more to yourself than anything.

“Rem?” Amelia said as she rubbed his back and spotted you in front of him.

“Oh, L/N,” Amelia said with a chuckle. Remus felt his hackles rise immediately. “Your aura looks wonderful today.”

Her voice was filled with contempt, but your eyes never left Remus’ form.

“Here,” you said to Remus as you began to dig through your book bag. You missed the ‘tosser’ that Amelia threw your way, but Remus didn’t.

Moony wanted her dead.

“This should help, Remus. It’s mallowsweet, shrivlefig juice, powdered moonstone, and rosewater. I think it’s just what you need.”

Your voice was so soft and sweet, and Moony was so quiet while you spoke. Remus almost wanted to tell you to forget the vial you were offering as he felt his migraine lifting just from listening to you talk.

Remus might as well have been a puppet as he raised his hand to take the vial from you – he didn’t even know what this concoction was for, but if you kept looking at him like that? He’d drink forty of them.

You dropped the vial into his palm, keeping your fingers to yourself as if you were somehow aware he was afraid to touch you.

“I hope you feel better, Remus.” You breathed softly, parting from him with a gentle smile as you floated back down the hallway.

“Gods, she is such an airhead.”

Remus suddenly understood James a little bit better.

“Amelia,” he started as he turned to stare daggers at the girl, “don’t make fun of my friends.”

And he stalked off down the hall, opposite the way you’d just went.

It was Thursday evening, and there were only two more nights until the full. Remus sat at the table with his head in his hands as he tried to swallow against his gag reflex.

Amelia Bones was staring daggers at him from the Hufflepuff table, but it was you, speaking so sweetly to James across from him, that had his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

Mine, pack! Pack! Pack! Mine, pack.

Remus mentally grabbed The Wolf by the scruff, causing a pitiful whine and quiet whimpering to follow. He was too tired and too close to the full for this.

James was speaking animatedly to you about the niffler’s from class today, but Remus Moony could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“One moment, Jamie.” You said quietly to your friend as you began to walk away. Suddenly, you were standing behind Moony Remus.

“Excuse me, Peter. Would you mind terribly if I sat here?” You asked sweetly, pointing to the sliver of bench between the two of them. Sirius’ eyes flew to meet Remus’ from his spot across from him.

“Oh! Uhm, no, Y/N, not at all.” Peter agreed as he moved to create a space for you beside Remus.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you were suddenly sat between Remus and Peter, directly across from James who was placed beside Sirius.

Remus felt his shoulders sag in immediate relief to have you so close to him. Horrifyingly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. He tucked his chin into his chest, knowing Sirius’ gaze hadn’t left him.

You pushed your ankle up against Remus’ as you continued discussing the pilfering little creatures from your class with James as the first tear fell.

He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He wanted to resent you. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

Because you were kind and sweet and understanding and patient. And he was the monster.

And somehow, you knew all of that. And yet, you sat here, beside him, and offered him what little comfort you could.

Remus was fucked.

You were at the quidditch game Friday evening. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, so you appeared to be present only to cheer on James.

It was sweet.

Remus was fucked.

Amelia came too, which pissed Remus off seeing as Hufflepuff wasn’t playing either, but it gave him the chance to not sit there staring at the space beside you wishing he was selfish enough to take it.

Her company wasn’t as nice as yours, but Remus supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The weather kind of sucked – it wasn’t raining but the air was thick with fog and mist, and visibility was low. Remus wasn’t sure how the players managed between the mist, the wind on their brooms, and their sweat, but the game raged on.

“Wait, so the little braids that you find on horses randomly...” Peter asked you from a few bleachers below Remus.

Remus kept his eyes on the players he could make out through the fog and pretended he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“Yes, those are nargles. They appear at night and twist the hairs of horses or unicorns to create stirrups and leads so that they can ride them. It’s important you don’t undo them, though, as nargles may become frustrated that they have to redo their work. They are also more likely to return to ride your horse again instead of outright taking them for their own if you respect their work. Tricky little thieves, they are.”

“Huh.” Pete offered brightly. Remus smiled widely to himself. “Well, I suppose they also look pretty in the horse’s hair. Might as well leave ‘em.”

Remus felt a warmth radiating in his chest. He couldn’t see either of you as he kept his gaze on the game, but he could clearly picture your kind and airy smile, and how Peter had his body turned to you to ensure you had his full intention.

Moony loved it too.

Pack. Good. Good. Good. PaCk GooD.

Remus began to think maybe he could handle this. Maybe he could keep you here, sort of at arm’s length but still within his reach. Maybe he could accept you as a friend and...pack member if that’s what Moony insisted on calling you.

Maybe this didn’t need to be all or nothing, maybe this could just be...

But Remus’ train of thought stopped as Moony began raging within his mind. Remus started to panic, thinking maybe he miscalculated the next full moon; he’s not been wrong about a moon once in his entire life, but fuck, stranger things have happened.

He looked to the sky, and even through the fog, Remus could tell the moon was nowhere near risen. He was also very sure the full moon was tomorrow night.

“Look out!” A player shouted from the pitch as Remus spotted a very large ball careening its way over...straight for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine MINE MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.

Remus’ mind went blank as he stood from his place. Suddenly, he was standing in front of you as the ball hit him in the middle of his back. He grunted in mild discomfort, but it was far less damage than what could have been had it made contact with your face.

Your face, which was looking up at Remus with your mouth parted in gentle surprise, and your eyes searching his person.

“Remus! Are you alright, mate?” Peter cried in shock.

The whistle sounded on the pitch as players flew their way over to the Gryffindor benches to retrieve the ball.

“Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” He offered, though his eyes never left yours.

“Moony, what the fuck was that?!” Sirius called from his broom.

“What was what? Aren’t you players supposed to aim the ball at each other?” He snarked back.

“Mate,” Pete whispered to him, “you apparated.”

He...he apparated!?

Hogwarts had ancient magical wards lining the school grounds and castles. One such ancient ward was an anti-apparition ward. No one should be able to apparate in or out.

Ignoring all of that, however...7th years still hadn’t been taught how to apparate yet.

Well...Remus didn’t know what to say about that. So instead, he asked “are you alright?”

You looked between him and his right shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Remus. Thank you. I’m very sorry about all of this.”

But before he could say - oh, that’s okay, or that’s not necessary, or even what the hell are you apologizing for? - you were out of your seat and leaving the stands.

“What did you say to her?” James barked at Remus from his broom beside Sirius, glare turning stormy.

“Nothing mate,” Sirius answered for him, “he just asked if she was alright.”

“Was she?” James asked, eyes softening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s okay.” Remus answered.

James seemed to analyze Remus’ face before offering him a curt nod and flying back to the centre of the pitch.

“McGonagall’s going to be so pissed if you broke those wards, mate.” Peter muttered as the game resumed.

Sure, Remus thought, let’s focus on that.

McGonagall was kind of pissed about the wards, but she told Remus it was but a minor tear within the grid and may be repairable.

Seeing as the burst of accidental magic was...well...accidental (and lunar in nature, though he figured it was best they all ignored that little fact for the time being), he was off the hook for the damage.

He was the victim of relentless torment, however.

“Lord Rem, are you reading ahead to make the rest of us look bad?” Lily smirked from her place in the Gryffindor common room.

Remus groaned into his book as he pulled it to the face.

“It was an accident.” He muttered miserably.

“Sure. Just watch your back, Lupin; I’m still top of the class.” She fired at him with a smirk.

The common room continued thinning out until it was only Lily and James playing wizards chess, Sirius and Peter playing exploding snap, and Remus trying to read his book as his muscles and joints swelled and groaned under the pull of the moon. Tomorrow night, and then he’d be free for the rest of the cycle.

Well, not free, seeing as now he was also plagued by you.

Suddenly, the group of five could hear the portrait of the Fat Lady screeching at someone in the hall.

“I will do no such thing; I am not a secretary” the muffled voice spat.

Sirius and Remus shared a confused look before the former stood and made his way to the portrait hole.

“Reggie?” Sirius asked quietly as the portrait swung open to reveal the form of his younger brother.

“Uhm, hi, Sirius. I... I was wondering if Potter was here?”

Sirius’ head reared back slightly as he blinked over at James.

“Uhm...yes? He is.”

Regulus sighed. “May I speak to him?”

Sirius slowly moved aside and gestured for Regulus to come in.

“Hello Regulus.” James said politely, looking bemusedly at Sirius for a brief moment before standing.

“Potter. My apologies for the...intrusion. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Y/N.”

Remus’ book fell into his lap as he sat straight in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests. Remus had heard from Sirius (who heard from James) that you and Regulus were quite close. This at least explained why Remus’ friends and yours had never intertwined before.

“No, no. Not since the game, why?”

Regulus sighed again as he grimaced. “She’s not in her dorms. One of her dormmates asked me where she went – apparently, she told them it was important for her to be ‘away from the castle’ for the weekend. I was hoping you knew where she went.”

Remus ran up to the Marauder’s dorm room and accio’d the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the parchment and, sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. He double, triple and quadruple checked to no avail.

You were nowhere to be found on castle grounds.

Continue to chapter five here.

Taglist: @hanniejji, @y0urm0m12, @c0nsc10usworld, @aphrcdites, @starsval, @thepunisherfrankcastle, @anuncalledbridge, @unstablereader, @rai-strangebr, @klazina-couch-potato, @cancelledkaley, @fandom-crashlanding, @ttulipwritezz, @boo8008, @daisiesformylove, @frostooo, @myriadmoons, @aremuslupinsimp, @simars3, @stargurl99, @dreamingofts18, @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface, @agent-tempest, @xxrougefangxx, @serenadingtigers, @adhxmoony, @spokenfolk, @hufflepufffangirlqueen, @thebiggestnaturaldisaster, @urmomw4ntsme, @b4tm4nn, @jamieolivia27, @stqrgirlies-blog, @loving-and-dreaming, @cultish-corner

If you asked to be tagged in this work and do not see your name - I've been informed that if you've never made a post to your own blog before, you are unable to be tagged...sorry!

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black-lake · 4 months

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astro observations 10

Hey -- I miss doing these astro notes, it’s been- years? where have I been? forced into a rat race. I’ve lately been watching a lot of stand up comedies, timeless comedy movies, rush hour, the hangover, you name it, they don’t make shit like this anymore. I’ve also been dealing with saturn transit my 10th house and conjunct my sun fucking up my life. so I got stuff to share.

——

⛄︎ Happy capricorn season! I find it ironic that capricorns are hard workers but people don’t work hard in capricorn season, it’s when everybody slows down, enjoys the holidays, reflects and attempts to make new year’s plans.

Aspects that indicate humor

☃︎ I said it before and I will say it again, strong mercury-jupiter aspects are the most common in comedians charts, every existing comedian seems to have them conjunct, oppose or square. e.g. Jim Carrey, Kate McKinnon, Kevin Hart (mercury conj jupiter). Chris Tucker, Amy Schumer (mercury square jupiter). Rowan Atkinson, Steve Carell (mercury opp Jupiter).

☃︎ Moon in scorpio or capricorn, top notch dark humor. Chris Tucker, Pete Davidson, Louis C.K. (capricorn moon). Ricky Gervais, Ryan Reynolds, Matthew Perry (scorpio moon).

☃︎ Moon in gemini or sagittarius, making you laugh at random things, making the small details in life events remarkable and ironic. Sag got that joyful light hearted spirit no matter how sarcastic they get. Bill Burr, John Mulaney (sag moon). Gemini got that chaotic animated twisted humor, can go on endless tangents but you’ll never get bored. Aubrey Plaza, Jim Carrey, and Rowan Atkinson (gemini moon).

☃︎ North node in gemini or sagittarius being a naturally funny storyteller their whole life. I also notice north node in virgo, leo and capricorn in those that pursue public speaking or stand up.

☃︎ Many comedians or just straight up funny people got MC in gemini, virgo, sagittarius, or leo.

☃︎ Mercury in aries, leo, gemini, sagittarius, scorpio, capricorn the type of people that tell a basic story but the tone of their voice, choice of words, and the underlying emotion mixed with their perspective and delivery makes it hilarious.

☃︎ Mercury in a fire sign, can be loud, the underlying anger and passion in their voice tone is what makes them funny. Chris Tucker, Kevin Hart and Dave Chappelle all got a leo mercury. Joe List got an aries mercury.

☃︎ Mercury in an air sign, they keep you engaged, animated expressions, great at impressions and mimicking when they tell stories. Trevor Noah is a good example and Jim Carrey (aquarius mercury).

☃︎ Mercury in earth and water, the way they so calmly tell an intense life event story with a straight face and calm demeanor, almost seeming high, a lot of irony and nonchalance. Pete Davidson (scorpio mercury), Ricky Gervais (cancer mercury) and Kate McKinnon (capricorn mercury).

☃︎ I have mercury conj jupiter in aries and I’m ruled by mercury (gemini rising). I’m super sarcastic and cutthroat when angry, it makes people upset, shocked, amused, wanting to laugh but also butt heads with me. My mind can find irony in literally anything. I also can change my voice and facial expressions easily when I’m mimicking someone.

☃︎ Those with strong mercury-pluto aspects, the type that could actually give you contractions from laughter. They think intensely, experience life intensely, are cutthroat and skeptical, are super intellectual and deep which is enough to make them ironic in the way they communicate. Their communication style comes across as bold, raw and shocking, saying it how it is, not afraid of joking about taboo or embarrassing stuff. It feels like my life is fucked up my mind is fucked up and I don't give a fuck typa attitude. Matthew Perry, Pete Davidson, Louis C.K, Adam Sandler, Ryan Reynolds, Steve Carell (mercury conj pluto).

☃︎ Heavy pluto and saturn placements can make someone insanely funny especially if they’ve got aspects indicating public speaking. The absolute best at self deprecating humor. They aren’t afraid to share their traumatic experiences, because not only they make people laugh but they give hope to those who can relate. They got where they are by accumulating that much knowledge and wisdom and it came through many wounds usually relating to rejection, abandonment and feeling inadequate. They use humor to heal themselves and others.

☃︎ Pete Davidson, Ryan Reynolds and Ricky Gervais got heavy scorpio and pluto conjunctions, examples of plutonian humor. Dave Chappelle and Chris Tucker got heavy saturn aspects, examples of saturnian humor.

☃︎ Now Chris Tucker got all the basic comedian placements. He’s easily one of the best and most successful comedians to ever exist. The type to open his mouth and everyone starts laughing. It’s the attitude not even the context. He was the popular kid too, friends with Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan, Muhammad Ali, Jackie Chan, Prince and literally every iconic celebrity in the US.

☃︎ Chris has a mercury square Jupiter at 0°, leo mercury 28°, capricorn moon, scorpio jupiter, saturn in gemini, jupiter conj neptune (can expand the imagination in storytelling), north node in aquarius (he was a trailblazer in rush hour and many comedians mimic him).

----

☃︎ I noticed so many times that people with saturn in gemini can be socially responsible, meaning that they refuse to cuss in some occasions and refuse to talk shit or go against their morals. Partially due to the lessons they learned on gossip and the consequences of misinformation or twisted narratives. Chris Tucker rejected an offer because he refused to cuss and smoke weed on camera, he also avoids vulgarity and profanity in his stand ups.

☃︎ Those with gemini north node are either so good at communicating clearly, storytelling and entertaining or will learn that in this lifetime. Same goes for gemini risings. One of their missions is to accumulate knowledge from everywhere they go without the need for distant travel and sharing it with others rather than keeping it confined for abstract contemplations (sag south node). They develop a communication style that is so personal to them that allows them to be a messenger, a bridge between people and a powerful speaker.

☃︎ I have a leo north node and the more I grow older the more I realize I'm never meant to act so old. This inner child in me screams to come out after every tough cycle esp when I'm mentally trapped in societal conformity. Those with a leo nn exude childlike innocence and purity, at their best spreading love and joy wherever they go. Though to get there they go through challenging experiences alone to build so much strength and confidence so they can pursue what they love and share love so freely since they are so used to being cold and detached (aqua south node).

☃︎ Those with a cancer north node are naturally so good at business matters like building a company or climbing the success ladder (capricorn south node). They learn quickly that material success alone does not bring them fulfillment. Every time they reach somewhere that feeling of achievement is fleeting and they just want to share those moments with others. They have this urge to connect emotionally to their loved ones and create memories. They might desire having a family of their own, a secure home, and a sense of safety and stability.

I somehow always unintentionally post in december and my posts be considered old next month, so I quit my toxic draining job last week, kinda feels like a life crisis, but I’m feeling so safe and cozy in my bed having my hot mocha eating all the christmas sweets and watching funny shit. so share your fav stand ups, funny movies or documentaries, anything you watch during the holidays. stay warm and cozy 🧣🎅🏼

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.

Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.

“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.”

“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to.

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.

You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense.

Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up.

You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.

Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own.

“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend.

Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out.

“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body.

“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”

“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“

Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.

“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range.

“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.”

“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–”

“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed.

“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.

“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.”

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

In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable.

The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona.

“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it.

“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.”

“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob.

“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”

“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state.

“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached.

That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate.

“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer.

“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.”

Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.

“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around listening in to what you had to say.

“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?”

“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come.

“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle.

“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.”

“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.”

“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “

“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?”

“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?”

“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter.

“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.”

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

Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie.

“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?”

“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this.

“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.”

“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!”

“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.”

“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.”

“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.”

“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up.

“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.”

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

By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return.

“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.”

Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’

“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.”

“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.”

“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?”

“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!”

“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!”

“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.”

“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step.

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

“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.”

“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.”

“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback.

“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling.

“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.”

“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.”

You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.

“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you.

“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.”

“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.”

“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family.

“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting.

“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?”

“Uh, yeah–” Bob started.

“We’re good.” Payback stammered.

“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added.

“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out.

“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look.

“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up.

“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.”

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

“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth.

“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.”

“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.”

“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.”

“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room.

“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled.

“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.”

“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now.

“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed.

“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA.

“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.”

“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you.

“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.”

“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so.

“You feelings alright?” He asked softly.

“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming.

“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?”

“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.”

“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support.

“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.”

“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?”

“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.”

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

By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news.

“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong.

“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps.

“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—

“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?”

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

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #top gun rooster

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of-many-aus · 1 year

Text

Why Jake calls you ‘Angel’

Summary: there’s always an origin story to a nickname, this one is yours

Warnings: none

A/N: let me know what you think of this series so far :)

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

This was stupid. You had no idea why you had even let Natasha talk you into this, she knew this wasn’t your thing.

The noise was deafening with everyone screaming at the top of their lungs. Cheers and boos for this team or that.

Bodies rammed into one another as they jumped up and down, supporting their respective teams that were made up of either a sky blue, or a crimson red.

“You have to get to know him,” Nat chatted your ear off above all the yells, keeping your arms linked tightly as you wove back and forth in the crowd, “He’s your roommate, and you hardly know a thing about him.”

“Yeah,” You snapped back, shooting her a small glare, “Maybe he’s a serial killer. How does that feel, Nat? You could very well be the person who pressured me into accepting a living situation with a murderer.”

She rolled her eyes, long since used to your dramatic antics, “A cute murderer.” Your best friend flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes sarcastically, “Well, what he lacks in personality, I suppose he makes up for in looks.”

“Exactly!” She cheered, finally pushing through a clearing and towards seemingly the only two empty seats in the whole stadium, not giving you the chance to open your mouth and snap back about being sarcastic. She knew very well that you were.

It had been about two weeks since you and the star of your college's baseball team, Jake Seresin, had made a temporary arrangement of moving into an apartment together. And the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, which Natasha Trace never failed to throw in your face.

Honestly, you were more than fine keeping it that way. The less you were forced to talk to the cocky, ego driven athlete, the better.

Your best friend, on the other hand, seemed to think that it was fate that the two of you were thrown into the same living establishment. And apparently, it was an opportunity not to be passed up. Now, you had been dragged to his team's second game of the season. Evidently, missing his first one was some sort of crime in Natasha’s eyes and you now had to make up for it.

What did it matter anyway? He didn’t even know that you were here, and honestly, you hoped that it stayed that way. You didn’t need him thinking something other than the simple fact that you were dragged here, fighting tooth and nail to get away. But it was useless, Nat was impossible to stop when she put her mind to something.

Of course, the only seats available had to be in the very front row, just to the right of home plate.

The game had already started by the time you two sat down, and Jake's team was getting absolutely demolished.

No wonder all the other spectators were getting rowdy so quickly. Your school was trying to urge the team into coming back, and the other school was trying to keep their team up. The score was 1-6 and it was only the second inning.

Jakes team was up at bat, more specifically, a man you recognized to be Reuben Fitch, who was in your science class, at the plate, bat up and at the ready. According to the scoreboard, there was already one out, two pitches thrown, and nobody on the bases.

The pitcher from the other team glared against the sun as he wound his arm back, ready to release the ball. And when he so, it hooked in such a way that poor Reuben didn’t stand a chance of hitting it.

You felt a pang of pity in your heart for him, he had always been friendly to you, and watching his lips move in the shape of a curse and shaking his head in disappointment at himself made you sad to see. He made his way back to the dug out with a head hung low, not even reacting when Pete Mitchell, the coach, clapped him on the back in reassurance when he shuffled past him.

A frown pulled at your lips, “This is just sad,” You commented, “You picked the absolute worst day to force me to come and see a game.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, only to snap it shut when her eyes locked onto something behind you. A smirk slowly made its way onto her face, “Or maybe not.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you turned in your seat to see what she was looking at, only to lock eyes on a jersey you had grown accustomed to seeing thrown lazily around your apartment- along with other pieces of gear he never bothered to pick up- making it’s way towards you.

Jake was up at bat.

There was a determined aura about him, you could tell from the way his eyes stayed trained on the pitchers mound and from the way his jaw was set and shoulders were in a ridged square.

High pitched squeals erupted from behind you in a way that made you cringe at the sudden noise.

“It’s Jake!”

“He looks so hot.”

“He was totally checking me out earlier.”

You rolled your eyes at the group of girls behind you, babbling like a bunch of teenagers at the mall, and crossed your arms over your chest.

Natasha was looking over at you with a smirk that had morphed into a knowing one.

“What?” You snapped.

Her grin only widened, “Nothing, nothing.” She murmured, turning her attention back to the game.

After allowing your eyes to linger suspiciously on her for another moment, you tore them away from her and too looked to where Jake was now winding up to bat.

The pitcher threw the next one faster than he had moments ago, and it headed straight for the blond man.

Your heart jumped to your throat and your arms unconsciously loosened, falling to your sides as you leaned forward.

Jake jumped backwards out of the way just in time, the ball narrowly missing his stomach in the process.

Shouts of protest came from all over the stadium, cursing out the pitcher for trying to take out the star player.

A breath slipped through your lips and you felt the muscles in your shoulders loosen. Why they were even tense in the first place, you didn’t know.

Seresin let out a huff, taking a step back from the plate to give himself a moment to collect himself, and his gaze unconsciously swept over the crowd.

Bright green eyes locked onto yours before you could even think about looking away and trying to hide yourself.

Jake stilled.

All of the sounds seemed to drown out around you. Neither of you let up your stares, no matter how much as you knew you should.

Then, the corner of his lips quirked up the tiniest bit, and he threw a wink in your direction before turning back to the plate and stepping up once more.

One of the girls squealed from behind you, “Did you see that? Did you? Did you? He winked at me!”

You barely even heard her, eyes still yet to leave Jakes tall form.

“What was that all about?” You could hear the grin in her voice as Natasha whispered to you.

Not an answer came out of you though. You were too transfixed in the game.

When the ball came at him again, he was ready, and he hit it out of the park. Literally.

Again, it seemed like almost every person in the stadium began screaming at the top of their lungs. Whether it was from anger or pure joy at the home run the man had just hit.

Somehow, you had joined in with them, clapping as loudly as you could and cheering.

Jake threw one glance to you over his shoulder before taking a jog around the bases, a grin of victory playing on his lips.

It only went uphill from there.

Somehow, when put in the outfield, every single ball went Jake's way, and he caught each and every one of them. Then each time he came up to bat, he would get at least one other person home.

There was a reason he was the star player.

By the end, the score was 12-6, and your throat was raw from all the screaming you had done, as well as most likely every other person in the audience.

“Well?” You finally tore your eyes away from the field at your best friend's voice, “Worth coming?”

You hid a grin and tried to shrug nonchalantly, “I suppose.”

She laughed loudly, linking your arms together and beginning to lead you into the slowly dispersing crowd.

The two of you chatted all the way back to the row of cars, when a voice calling out your name made you both stop and turn.

Jake jogged after the two of you, baseball gear bag slung over one shoulder.

The group of girls that had been obnoxious behind you for the entire game now stood a few yards away with dropped jaws that soon turned into sneers.

Your roommate paid them no mind though, as he came to a stop in front of you, slightly breathless as if he had run all the way from the dugout to catch up with you.

“Hi,” You breathed out in surprise, eyebrows raised.

He grinned that blinding, award winning smile of his, “You came to my game.”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha piped up, nodding excitedly from beside you, “She practically dragged me here.”

Your head snapped into her direction and your eyes widened for a brief second before you began glaring daggers at her, “I did not-“

“I’m glad you came.”

The gentleness of his tone made your mouth snap shut and your attention turn to him once more.

“We were losing, bad, but then you showed up, and we suddenly won again.” He was yet to drop his grin.

You shook your head, “That wasn’t me-“

“Sure it was,” He laughed lightly, “You’re like my own guardian angel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

If it was even possible, his grin seemed to widen, “Why not? I think it’s fitting.”

A scoff left your lips, and whatever weird haze you had been in during the game finally shook off, “Don’t you dare.” You warned.

“Hangman!” Bradley Bradshaw called from a couple paces away, waving the man down, “Come on! The boys are going out to celebrate!”

“Be right there!” The blond called back before winking at you once more, “See you at home, Angel.”

With that, he jogged off, leaving you in a speechless state that was so unlike you.

Nat moved to stand in front of you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You hesitated before softly shoving her, “Shut up.” You mumbled, turning to make your way to the car.

Taglist: none yet

#take me out to the ball game series #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin au #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman au #top gun x you #top gun x reader #top gun x y/n #top gun au #baseball au #college au

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forever-rogue · 6 months

Note

OMG TASM INSPO OKAY OKAY!

I saw this prompt a while ago that said: one small kiss before fully devouring the other person and I thought it would be perfect for pining idiots Peter and r. Maybe they dare them to kiss at a party or they get tipsy enough to be very affectionate which leads to the kiss. But then one of them is like shit I ruined our friendship and ghosts the other until they talk and get back together and kiss again 🥰

AN | If there is one thing I love it’s blind fools in love! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 4.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was so pretty like this.

Wild, unruly hair, plush lips, pink cheeks and eyes like rich honey.

“What’re you lookin’ at, huh?” he reached over and brushed a lock of your behind your ear, so close that you could smell the sweet alcohol that lingered on his lips. Your heart skipped a few beats at the tender touch; it was nothing new but every one of his touches felt like the first time. He rested his palm against your cheek as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “you’re being weird.”

“Nuh uh,” you narrowed your eyes at him but your weak attempt at being serious did nothing for him. Instead he laughed, a sugary sweet sound you wanted to bottle up and keep as yours and yours only forever, “you’re being weird, Pete.”

“Whatever you say,” his long, lithe fingers ghosted along your jaw before he retracted his touch. You missed the warmth of his skin on yours almost immediately, “I think you’re drunk.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and finished the last bit of the hard cider in your bottle. You were so far from drunk, having nursed the same bottle over the last hour and a half just as he had with his beer. Neither of you were even tipsy, just enough to feel a slight buzz in your bones, let alone drunk, “‘m not. Just tired of you.”

“That’s a lie,” he whispered as you nodded meekly. You could never lie to him, or even fool him in the slightest. He’d been your best friend for almost a decade; he knew you better than anyone ever had.

“It’s a lie,” you confirmed, shifting your gaze away from him. You looked around the room, trying to focus on literally anyone else at the party. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to capture your attention - at least not as much as Peter Parker did. You could feel his gaze trained on you, and part of you was worried for a moment that he was almost able to hear every single thought you had running through your mind. You turned back and immediately felt your warm up, “Pete?”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, voice so soft that your ears were playing tricks on you. When you saw the quiet and determined expression on his face you could tell that you had actually heard what you thought you’d heard.

“What?” you’d leaned in closer, inadvertently, but found yourself inches away from the pretty boy. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a very Peter-esque smile - that your smile. You wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe in your heart forever. You huffed when he just stared at you like you were magic, “Peter. What did you say?”

“C’mon Bee,” you could hear the subtle groan in his voice, “you heard me. I want to kiss you.”

“Why?” your brows knitted together in confusion; you were so ridiculously cute especially with the way your nose scrunched, “me? Pete, you’re just drunk.”

“Yeah you,” an incredulous huff escaped his lips. How? How did you not know that he was in love with you? Especially since he’d fallen for you days into your friendship so many years ago, “I like you, you know. And I’m not drunk. Not in the slightest.”

“Of course you do,” he was drunk. He had to be despite his insistence that he wasn’t. Right? You swallowed thickly, “you’re my best friend.”

“No, you don’t…” he put a hand on your neck, his thumb brushing along the soft skin under your ear, “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” your voice was so small it was basically a squeak, but it was enough to set him at ease to actually do what he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Peter closed the small gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours - softly at first, questioning and learning. When you didn’t panic or pull away. He deepened the kiss, earning a small moan from you. That sound made electricity shoot throughout his entire body; he wanted more, he wanted it all. All your sounds just for him.

Before you let it get too far, you pulled back, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and taking his hand away. Peter stopped immediately and looked at your in surprise and… hurt? on his face. You held up your hands, both of them shaking, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you searched for the right words.

“Bee?”

“I-I can’t do this,” you scooted your chair back and stood up, shaking your head, “this was a mistake. I’m sorry, Peter. I gotta go.”

You grabbed your bag and started to push your way through the throng of crowds to leave. Peter had jumped up to his feet and attempted to follow you, “wait - Bee!”

But you didn’t wait. By the time he got to the door, you were already long gone. He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall as he tried to figure out what he did wrong. But, he figured, he’d give you space tonight and then check on you tomorrow. Surely this was all just…a misunderstanding.

Surely you felt the same things he did. He’d been wishing for nothing else for so long.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter’s hopes that he would be able to talk to you and get to the bottom of what was going on were quickly dashed the next.

He didn’t hear a peep from you - but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. He texted and called and even showed up at your apartment to no avail. In reality you’d received and read every text, sent every call to voicemail, and ignored his knocking. You just couldn’t face Peter, not today…make not ever.

You were still trying to put all the pieces of what had happened together. He’d told you that he liked you and that he wanted to kiss you.

And then he did exactly that.

But it didn’t make sense. Peter Parker was your best friend, and best friends definitely didn’t kiss like that. He said he wasn’t drunk but there couldn't be any other reason, right? Why else would he suddenly want to kiss you? Part of you was afraid that you’d taken advantage of Peter to get what you wanted. Of course you wanted to kiss him; you’d been in love with him for years. Instead of risking anything, you’d kept yourself thoroughly in the best friend zone. You’d rather pine for him and suppress those feelings and keep him in your life, than potentially risk losing him completely.

Life without Peter Park wasn’t anything you wanted to experience.

And in a few moments of inhibition, you might have ruined everything after all. You couldn’t face him ever again. The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to curl up and cry.

You were being dramatic…you knew you were. You needed something - someone - logical to keep you from spiraling. Grabbing your phone, you quickly found her contact and called her, pacing around as you waited for her to answer.

“MJ,” you let out a sigh of relief when she picked up after a few rings, “I did something bad. Can you come over?”

You heard her sweet laugh on the other side, “of course. I’ll be there in twenty? Shall I bring a bottle of wine?”

“Yes please,” you rubbed at your forehead, “two bottles if you have it.”

“On my way!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Little did you know, MJ was already way ahead of you. She was already well aware of what had happened; Peter had called her, close to tears, about an hour beforehand. He was quick to spill his guts out to her, trying to make sense of everything…and definitely panicking that he’d never see you again.

MJ, meanwhile, was terribly amused at the panic both of you were displaying. She was well aware that the two of you were in love with each other, even if you the two of you weren’t aware. To be fair…everyone was aware but the two of you. It was so obvious to anyone that spent even a moment around you that you were in love. Somehow that just didn’t get through to you - not yet but Mary Jane Watson was determined to finally get you both to realization and clarity.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hi honey,” MJ let herself into your apartment with the key you’d given her long ago. You raised your hand and gave her a small wave from where you were curled up on the couch, buried under a heap of blankets. She set the bottles of wine down on the coffee table before raising an eyebrow at you, “and just what do we call this?”

“It’s calling wallowing,” you huffed, sitting up and looking at her with an upset expression on your face, “I fucked up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she insisted softly before going into the kitchen and grabbing a couple of wine glasses and a bottle opener. You made room for her on the couch, and sat down next to you, carefully opening a bottle and pouring a couple of glasses. You picked yours up and clinked it against hers, “cheers. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Peter,” you took a huge drink before allowing yourself to look at the giant grin on MJ’s face, “it’s Peter.”

“And…what about Peter?” she was prying, gently doing so, but curious to know. If there was someone that knew Peter almost as well as you it was her. She’d dated him for a few years in high school after all, “what did he do? And/or what did you do?”

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly just as you’d learned in yoga class. You pinched the bridge of your nose before setting your glass down and angling your body closer to her, “hekissedme.”

“Pardon?” oh, she’d heard you loud and clear and you both knew it.

“Peter kissed me,” you said more slowly, letting the words wash over you as the memories of last night popped, “and I…kissed him back.”

MJ was practically giddy with excitement, barely holding back her smile. She was definitely the president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer of the ‘you and Peter fanclub.’ She took another sip of her drink before setting the glass down and reached for one of your hands, “and what’s the problem with that? The two of you are clearly in love! It’s about time one of you made a move!”

“What?” you tilted your head to the side and looked at her in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Oh my god,” she threw her head back with a loud groan, “how are you so smart and dumb at the same time?!”

“MJ-”

“I know how you feel about Peter,” you’d confessed your love and adoration for your best friend many times - tipsy, drunk, and sober. And it wasn’t like either of you did anything to hide it. You huffed and looked at her like a lost little puppy, “and I know how he feels about you. I’m not sure what the problem is…”

“Peter doesn’t….he was drunk.”

“Peter doesn’t get drunk,” she raised her eyebrows in a sort of tell me I’m wrong expression, “but what exactly led to him finally making a move?”

“We were at that party at Beth’s and we were just hanging out and talking. I’d had a few drinks and he did too,” ugh. The way he’d looked at you was like something else, “and later on he told me he wanted to kiss me. I asked him why and he just sort of…made it seem like it was obvious. I asked if he was drunk but he said no and I don’t…fuck, I don’t know.”

“It is obvious, all things aside,” she waved her hand, “but if he says he wasn’t drunk, what’s wrong? Was it bad?”

“No. No,” it was anything but bad. In fact, you were ready to admit that it was easily the best kiss of your life. That made you both nervous and excited, “it was good.”

“But you didn’t want it?”

“I did, I do,” you drained the rest of your glass before pulling your legs up and hugging your knees to your chest, “I liked it and I want to do it again. You know I do. It’s just…what if he thinks its a mistake? What if he hated it and it’s ruined everything. I don’t want to lose him, MJ. He’s too important to me.”

“Honey,” she mirrored your position and her face turned serious, “I mean in the most loving way possible, but you are so incredibly obtuse. Peter is in love with you. You’re in love with Peter. What else could you possibly need to know?”

“I know I love him,” you agreed, “so much. But how can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s told me!” she threw up her hands as your eyes widened in surprise. She put her hands on yours and gave you a little shake, “he’s told me that he’s in love with you. More than once. I’ve just been…the two of you are so damn stupid. You’re so clearly in love with each other but neither of you can just admit and move forward. You’re not going to lose Peter, I swear on that. But sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and move forward. Otherwise nothing is ever to change.”

“MJ-”

“It’s not even that big of a leap,” she whispered gently, “it’s Peter. He’s always going to be there to catch you.”

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears stinging at the back of your eyes, “I’m scared, MJ.”

“I know,” she gently brushed her knuckles against your cheek, “and it’s okay to be scared. But this is a sure thing. But, for now, let’s have some more wine and watch a bad movie and order pizza?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed sniffling slightly, “thanks MJ.”

You hoped she was right. You hoped that this leap of faith would be worth it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As it turned, your great leap of faith…was a little delayed. As in one thing led to another and your nerves and anxiety got the better of you and you hadn't seen or talked to Peter in two weeks.

It was the longest you'd gone in the decade you'd known him without talking or seeing each other. It sucked. You knew Peter was a huge part of your life but you hadn't realized just how much…until he was gone.

And it was definitely your own fault. Peter kept trying and trying to get through to you. That part warmed your heart and made things worse at the same time. You almost wished he could let it go but you knew that wasn't his style at all. His persistence and big heart were some of the many things you loved about him. You were going to talk to him at some point…you just needed to work up the courage. Soon hopefully. Soon.

Soon, as it turned out, came on a chilly fall day as you saw at your favorite cafe. You were halfheartedly sipping on a coffee as you worked on your laptop. You had hoped that getting out of the house and the office to work in a different space, one you normally loved, would help to cheer you up but it didn’t work. Not that you had anyone to blame but yourself.

With an unwittingly heavy sigh, you looked up and stared out the window, watching the rain drizzle down. The city was beautiful this time of year; only this time it didn’t feel as lovely.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to find Peter Parker stopping mid-walk and looking straight back at you. A tentative little smiled up the corners of his mouth as held up his hand in a small wave; a white flag gesture. You let out a nervous huff of laughter before smiling back at him and holding up your hand in response.

He stood there for a moment before mouthing something at you, motioning with his to see if you’d come out. This time you didn’t hesitate as you shoved your laptop into your bag and almost ran outside to meet him. You didn’t know where you stood with Peter, but even just seeing him already made your heart feel so much better.

“Hi,” he sounded almost nervous as you stopped in front of him, neither of you caring that you were getting wet.

“Hi,” you whispered back, unsure of what to say or do. But this time you couldn’t run away or hide; you had to face up to what was going on, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” he took your bag from you and hooked it over his shoulder, starting to walk in the direction of his apartment. You fell into step with him, neither of you saying anything, but walking close enough so that the backs of your hands continued to gently brush against each other. The tension hanging in the air between the two of you was palpable but you were afraid to say anything to break the silence.

Peter didn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings as he continued to open the doors for you. By the time you were inside the apartment, he closed the door and leaned against, watching you closely. You stood there nervously, trying to think of what to say, all the while hoping that Peter would say something instead.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for what seemed like a small eternity. The next thing you knew, Peter came over to you and took your face gently in his hands, warm doe eyes searching yours. You offered him the tiniest of nods before he leaned in and kissed you. This time, instead of over thinking anything, you allowed yourself to live in the moment. At first Peter was afraid that you didn’t want this and he’d somehow read the signs wrong, but then he felt you loop your arms around his waist and kiss him back.

And it felt like pure magic. It was everything you could have ever dreamed of and then some more. Kissing Peter felt so…right. Judging by the way he refused to pull away from you until you were both breathless, you were sure that he felt the same. He pressed his forehead against yours and let a small, wistful sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, unable to get your emotions in check from what had just happened. The only thing you knew was that you loved Peter; that was all that mattered, “Pete.”

“Don’t apologize,” he traced his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, causing goosebumps to explode all over your skin, “just talk to me please.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to look into his eyes. There was no malice in them, only…well, you weren’t absolutely sure what it was, but it was…something. There was a hopeful expression on his eyes as you nervously played with your hands.

“Pete,” he loved the way you said his name; it always made him weak in the knees, “when you kissed me last time, were you drunk? Tipsy? Anything?”

He made a small sound, but shook his head, giving you the answer that you had already known was true, “no.”

“Why did…want to kiss me?” you were adorably; adorably blind. Peter looked at you softly, tilting his head to the side as he tutted.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked as you bit your lip. He moved towards his bedroom and motioned for you to follow him. When he stepped inside, he went to his dresser and dug around for a few moments before pulling out a big cardboard box. You watched with rapt attention as he took off the lid and poured the contents out on the bed. It was a large pile of photo strips, receipts, notes, and other silly little trinkets, “I have kept every silly note, every set of photobooth pictures, every receipt from anything important or special that we’ve done in the last decade.”

“Oh,” your eyes started to sting with tears as you looked at everything. You reached for a strip of photos - the first ones you’d taken together - and looked them over. It was the two of you, about nine years younger, making silly poses. Except in the last photo; you were making a silly face but Peter wasn’t. He was looking right at you with that same expression he’d always had just for you. Just for you. You looked at him and found him watching you intently, his cheeks tinged with a pretty shade of pink. It was like everything suddenly clicked in your mind, “oh. Peter…”

“It’s been a long time Bee,” his voice was so soft and low, “all this time, I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

“You never…” you sifted through the other photos and gathered them all up, looking through them. Fuck, you were an idiot. Every single time there was that look, “you never said anything.”

“No,” he admitted, “I was sure you’d get there eventually, and I’d always be here.”

“But at the party,” you felt even more stupid now; he had basically when telling the same thing then but you just didn’t want to believe that it could be true, “you said something.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re so beautiful,” he watched the smile on your face grow as you looked at some of the silly post-it notes the two of you had exchanged when you still worked at the same lab, “I never can. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Wait,” you sat at the edge of the bed, clutching one of the notes tightly in your hand, “can you just…spell it out for me? I-I don’t know if my brain is working properly right now.”

“Bee,” he crouched down in front of you, large hands settling on your thighs, “I love you. Not just as a best friend, but as everything. I want everything, but only if it’s with you.”

You put one of your hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he turned your hand over and traced a finger along the heart and life lines on your palm, “I’m in love with you.”

“Peter.”

“I was wondering when you were going to catch up,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to your palm, “MJ’s been trying to get me to tell you for a long time.”

“This whole time?” he nodded as you looked at him with a most ardent and loving expression, “when did you know?”

“It was at that first fair we went that summer after we met,” you remembered that day so clearly. From the sounds and the smells to what the two of you were wearing, to all the whispered conversations and longing looks, “you were wearing that pretty sundress - the yellow one with the little daisies on it - and I almost lost it. I think I knew that night. I really wanted to kiss you then.”

“I wanted you to kiss me then too,” you admitted sheepishly, feeling your entire face warm up, “it was that New Years Eve for me. You took me ice skating and I really wanted to hold your hand so I pretended to be super bad at skating. When it was midnight and kissed my cheek, I knew it was always going to be you for me.”

“I knew you were faking,” he laughed softly, eyes sparkling with happiness, “but I really liked holding your hand and didn’t want to let go. I’ve taken every and any excuse over the years to hold your hand or touch you.”

“I’m…I’m scared, Peter,” you couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was the biggest part of your heart, “what if something happens and we can’t be friends anymore? I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“I promise you that you are never going to lose me,” you hoped it was true; you desperately wanted it to be true, “not as Spider-Man and not as plain old Peter. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Pinky promise?” you held up your other hand and extended your pinky towards his. He hooked his finger around yours without hesitation.

“Pinky promise,” he repeated, “and you know the pink promise is law. No one can break them. It’s for life.”

“What if you start to hate me?” that would be your worst fear, “if we start dating or something.”

“I hate to break it to you, honey,” he plopped onto the floor and gently pulled and maneuvered you into his lap. Yeah…that might have become your new favorite spot, “we’ve basically already been dating. It’s really not going to change much. Just some…added benefits.”

And at that, you relaxed, allowing yourself to melt into his body, laughing softly as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, “I guess you’re right. But, Pete-”

“I’m sure,” he put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “I always have been sure. It’s always going to be you.”

“Me too,” you took advantage of the moment and leaned up to steal a quick kiss from him, “I am sorry though, for ignoring you for the past couple of weeks. I was scared and then I didn’t know how to approach you after that.”

“I knew you were doing okay…ish,” he immediately knew what he was going to say next, “MJ kept me updated.”

“She’s going to kill me,” you sighed, “she’s been so mad at me for how I’ve been acting - not that I blame her. She told me to tell you how I felt. She told me it was just a small leap of faith.”

“I’m right here to catch you,” of course he was. He had been since the day he’d met you, “how do you feel, Bee? Tell me.”

“I’m in love with you, Peter Parker,” the smile on his face was beaming. It was enough to warm your heart a million times over, “I want you.”

“You have me.”

“I know,” you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. You’d held hands before but it felt so different this time around, “you have me too, you know.”

“I know,” he mirrored the actions with your other hands, “I’ve always known.”

“Hmm,” you closed your eyes and hummed in content, “will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly, Bee,” he brushed his nose against yours, “always.”

MJ was going to flip when she heard the news.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield

542 notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 8 months

Text

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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946 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

congrats!!!! how about fade into you with tasm!peter and touch starved!reader, in an established relationship???

Thanks honey!!

join the party

tasm!Peter Parker x touch starved!reader ♡ 960 words

When Peter gets home, you’re in another long, hot shower. With no one to witness how pathetic it looks, you’ve taken to sitting on the floor, letting the scalding water wash over your back and drip from your lashes. Your skin will be pinkish and puffy when you get out, but it won’t matter; you’ve got nothing to do other than wrap yourself in blankets and sit on the bed for the rest of the night.

When Peter’s voice comes, it sounds muffled, faraway, but you snap to attention nonetheless.

“Sweetheart?” A faint knocking. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, scrambling up and shutting off the water.

“Shit, it’s steamy in here,” he says as the door opens. “Want me to pass you a towel?”

“That’s alright.” You grab the towel you’ve hung by the shower, hastily scrubbing yourself dry and wrapping it around you.

Peter’s hands are on either side of the face the second you turn around, pushing your wet hair out of the way so he can kiss you properly. It’s a sweet, brief thing, and your chest aches slightly when he pulls back.

“Ouch, babe.” His hands feel cool as they move down to your shoulders. You shiver pleasantly. “Your skin’s burning hot. How long were you in there?”

You really should get another towel to stop your hair from dripping all over the floor, but you can’t stand to move away from Peter’s touch. “I was bored,” you reply, “and the hot water is nice.”

“Seems like it was more than just hot,” he murmurs, grabbing the other towel as if he’s heard your thought and beginning to squeeze the moisture from your hair. “Sorry I was gone so long. I never know how these things are gonna go, you know?”

“I know.” Peter had been attending a weekend conference on some scientist’s new research at a university in Chicago. He was supposed to be back days ago, but apparently he saw some fishy things while he was there that Spiderman felt an obligation to investigate. “Did you find the mutants?”

Peter shrugs, taking you by the shoulders to walk you into the bedroom. The air feels shockingly cold outside of the bathroom, but the warmth of his touch is enough to keep you from minding. “Sorta. It was a group of guys pretending to be mutants. Projectors and stuff combined with actual explosives to make it look like superpowered attacks.” He sits you down and begins digging through drawers, tossing you a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts. “It was super sophisticated, had to take a ton of planning. Honestly, if they weren’t, like, bad guys, I would’ve been really impressed.”

You shrug the shirt on. “Sounds like you were impressed anyway, honey.”

“Well.” Peter makes a sheepish face. “Just because they’re assholes doesn’t mean they’re not smart assholes, right?”

“Right.” You say, standing to get the sweatpants on. You don’t know where to go from here, feeling oddly hollow but with no good reason. Peter’s here; your loneliness should be vanquished. You hold your elbows awkwardly. “So, how was the conference?”

“Baby.” Peter sounds almost disappointed, and hurt hooks its claws in your gut before you can even figure what you’ve done. “Why’re you all the way over there, huh? You haven’t even asked for a hug yet. Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, but it is a bit odd for you not to tackle him the second he comes through the door. “I don’t think so,” you say, and Peter’s brows twitch together at your uncertain tone. “I just really missed you, Pete.”

He makes a pained, sympathetic sound, opening his arms and stepping toward you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

And apparently that’s the permission your body was looking for. You meet him in the middle, his arms coming up slow and firm around your shoulder blades. Your chest aches again, but this time it’s almost pleasant, though you feel suddenly like you could cry. Peter seems to know, one arm tightening across both your shoulders while the other hand begins stroking up and down your back.

“Did you have a bad week?” he asks softly, breath tickling your ear.

“No,” you reply honestly. “I think…I think I just needed this.”

Peter gives you a squeeze in response, and you tighten your grip too.

“Let’s just do this forever,” you say, only half joking. “Think you could come to work with me tomorrow to hold my hand all day?”

Peter doesn’t seem willing to roll with your lightness. “Nobody else hugs you when I’m not around, do they?” he asks, and when you don’t respond, he pulls back slightly, taking your face in his hand. “Do they, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not sure why it feels like an admittance. You’re not touchy with your friends, and your coworkers aren’t close like that. When else would you have the opportunity for hugs?

“No wonder you get so lonely when I’m gone.” Peter’s voice is fraught with tenderness, and he pulls you close again, petting your damp hair. “I’ll hold you as long as you like, babe, but after that, we should look into getting you a cat or something.”

“A cat?” You twitch in his hold, perking up hopefully. “I thought your landlord didn’t let you have pets.”

“He doesn’t, but he also doesn’t have to know,” he says easily. “If it’ll keep you from getting sad like this while I’m away, a cat is a small price to pay. Gotta keep my girl happy, you know?”

“I think,” you counter, “that we should get a cat and you should never leave again.”

Peter chuckles, kissing the top of your head lightly. “Deal.”

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cosmicluvcore · 26 days

Text

To be human part 1

Rottmnt Leo x reader, gender-neutral, friends to lovers, jealous Leo

Summary: Leo has the biggest crush on you, but he's afraid that you'd never date a mutant, so with the help of a cloaking brooch, he plans to become your perfect human boyfriend!

Part 2 here

☆

Okay I have to be honest. I saw someone with this idea, but I have no clue where it came from originally. If you know who I should credit, please tell me!!

Anyways, this concept gave me way too many ideas hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leo wasn't great at dealing with his feelings.

He'd been crushing on Y/N for far too long, the terrapin couldn't even remember when the whole thing started.

A few loving glances and a flirty joke or two had suddenly burst into the thought of Y/N keeping him up at night. He wasn't great at hiding it either, blushing like an idiot when they smiled his way.

Leo knew he needed to tell them sooner or later, but he hadn't worked up the courage yet. A part of him hoped they secretly felt the same way and would confess to him, but there'd been no sign of that happening anytime soon. Leo wanted to confess, he really did, but... what if they didn't feel the same way? What if it made their friendship weird? What if he looked like an idiot? What if they never wanted to speak to him again?!

There were just too many 'what ifs' for his liking.

So Leo had decided to take the easy way out, hoping that Y/N would just see how great he was, then he wouldn't have to deal with any uncomfortable conversations. He started going out of his way to impress them, saving them on missions, being overly nice, letting them win in video games, giving them his last pizza slice, (which is very valuable by the way!)

Not that he'd ever admit it, but Leo had spent an embarrassingly long time researching 'how to get your crush to like you back'.

He'd bought a cologne for Pete's sake! But no matter what he did, they never seemed to notice.

It was a ordinary evening. Leo and the others sat in the projector room watching a movie. Raph, Mikey and Y/N were sitting comfortably on the floor surrounded by blankets and pillows. Meanwhile, Donnie and Leo took the couch, popcorn in their hands. They were watching some random action movie. Leo wasn't really paying attention.

He was more focused on Y/N.

Y/N had started fawning over the male love interest and that began to spark a little- scratch that, a LOT of jealously in Leo's heart. Every scene that guy appeared in they were freaking out, gushing over him like he was the best thing since sliced bread.

The blue-masked turtle scoffed to himself as the character appeared again, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

What was so great about this guy anyway?

Leo was twice as charming as him, he was the one with good looks, great one-liners and clearly the best ninja skills. This guy barely spoke a word and Y/N was blushing like crazy. But as he kept watching the film, something clicked in his mind.

He was human.

That's something Leo could never beat. Sure, 'biologically' he was part human, but he didn't exactly look like it. The turtle shifted a little in his seat, the uncomfortable feeling of insecurity settling in.

"Leo? Are you good?" Donnie asked, snapping him out of his thoughts for a moment.

"Me? Yeah, I'm great," Leo replied quickly, glancing away from his brother's gaze,

"It's just that this movie sucks, never letting Raph choose again!" He lied, that playful smirk returning to his face as he saw his eldest brother's reaction.

"Hey!" Raph called out from afar.

As the movie continued, Leo sighed deeply and took another handful of popcorn, chewing the kernels absentmindedly and leaning back in his seat. Was that really why Y/N wasn't interested in him? Because he wasn't human? There wasn't much he could do about that, it's not like there was just some magic spell that could-

Leo's face lit up as an idea popped into his mind, cloaking brooches. Yokai used them, April's slime friend had one, so they must be easy to find. Leo's mind started spinning with possibilities. If he could get his hands on a cloaking brooch, he could be human and finally get Y/N's attention! But, where would he get one?

For once, Leo was distracted as Y/N entered his room. Usually he'd be all over them chatting up a storm, but he was sitting on his bed glancing away from them.

"Leo?" They asked softly, watching as the turtle was startled by the interruption.

"Hey, what's with the jump scares?" Leo joked with a playful chuckle,

"I thought we were friends." He said in mock offense, leaning onto his back and over-dramatically draping his hand over himself.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his shenanigans, "I just came to check on you drama queen, you're being weirdly quiet today."

Leo blinked at their observation. Jeeze, was he that obvious?

"Ohh well you know, I was just thinking about Raphs' riveting movie choice tonight." He replied casually, quick to make up an excuse.

I mean, technically, it wasn't a lie he had been thinking about the film.

Y/N rolled their eyes at that, "You're just salty it wasn't your choice tonight, besides that movie wasn't so bad." They replied, calmly leaning against the door frame.

"Ooh really? You're just saying that because you were all over the male lead," He retorted, grinning smugly as he watched their cheeks flush, "You, my friend, are biased."

"Well- Can you blame me? That guy was a total stud." Y/N blurted out defensively.

"He was alright, I guess. Just totally not as hot as the real stud in the room." He said with a cocky smirk as he gestured towards himself.

Y/N let out a laugh at that.

Normally, Leo wouldn't take such a tiny thing to heart, but his ego took a hit from the way Y/N laughed at him. He was the type to eagerly take any opporunity to see them smile, but this time it felt like they were laughing at him. Scoffing at just the thought of him being attractive to them, it was this newfound level of insecurity that he didn't know how to handle.

"Alright Leo, seems like you're biased too." They said with a chuckle.

"I simply speak the truth." He shrugged in reply, trying to ignore the painful realization.

Thankfully, Y/N didn't seem to notice, "Well, I'm heading home. I'll see you around."

"I'll see you." Leo smiled, waving as he watched them go.

After the coast was clear, Leo let out a long annoyed sign. He leaned onto his back, letting the soft cushion of his bed comfort him as insecurities began to plague his mind.

He needed a cloaking brooch.

#Spotify #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x you #rottmnt leo x y/n #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #gn reader #gender nuetral reader #gender nuetral #rottmnt tbh #To be human #Tbh #rottmnt to be human

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shayyprasad · 3 months

Text

maybe with a missed chance | peter parker

summary: there is no one you love more than peter parker. it's too bad that there are people he loves more then you.

warnings: angst, pining, breakdowns (?), bad self-thinking/image, unhealthy eating habits

pairing: peter parker x fem! reader

word count: 2.9+ words (not proof-read)

how long had it been since you found out peter was with liz? not long, most likely. well, long was subjective, like most things.

how long is too long?

what if it’s not long enough?

it doesn’t feel long enough, the time you had with peter.

or, you know, maybe that was subjective as well. you’d known him for ages. specifically, since the 3rd grade. so, what? ten years? almost eleven? not enough time. never enough time.

if you had more, then maybe you could have mustered up some courage to talk to him. to tell him. to convince him that you were the one for him, not her.

because you were sure, more than anything in the world, that she didn’t love him half as much as you did. not even a fraction. maybe part of the reason was because your love for peter wasn’t conditional, unlike hers. it was unlimited, and you were the only person who truly understood the depth of it.

7 months, a voice rang in the back of your head. that’s how many months it’d been since they were together. at first, you were sure it was a fling.

after all, it was liz. she was notorious for those, right?

but as the days had passed, you’d realized that it was not in fact a fling. it tugged your heartstrings to watch them holding hands in halls, watching the stolen kisses.

you hated it. you hated every moment of it, knowing you could do better than her. but maybe it didn’t matter. maybe it had nothing to do with that.

she might not have known his favorite color, his biggest secret, or even his favorite delmar’s order (he got the same one every time).

maybe it had to do with her looks.

how she could look flawless, without even trying. or how she managed to keep her hair in soft, perfect waves all the time. the way her skin was milky and soft, clear of any imperfections.

maybe it was just… her.

there was never a bland moment with her. liz always knew what to say, to keep a conversation going and keep the people laughing. her flirty personality was never distasteful, not to anyone. in fact, it was appealing. even to you, you admitted.

you hated her.

no, you wished you could hate her.

but she was too perfect. too pure and beautiful, and all the nice things in the world. that was why peter fell in love with her. and could you really blame him? in what right mind would he ever pick you over her?

it was funny. you had a terrible fight with him, not too long ago. really, it was only a couple of hours before.

you looked over at peter who was tapping away at his phone, smiling softly at it. you didn’t have to look at the contact’s name to see who it was.

but you looked anyways. you noticed that she made him happy in a way you never could, in a way you wished you could.

it was supposed to be a movie night. you hadn’t had one with him in some time. from saving the city to dating liz, it seemed like you weren’t a priority.

“pete?” you asked quietly, unsure of whether you should interrupt him.

he tilted his face away from the screen, but his eyes were still fixed there. “hmm?”

“are- are you not… do you not like the movie?”

“nah. it’s fine.”

“…right, yeah. but you aren’t watching it,” you added after a moment.

“oh, yeah, sorry. uno momento,” he chuckled, but you assumed it wasn’t at his own joke, but probably something his new girlfriend said. well, not so new anymore, you supposed.

yeah, no, you weren’t a priority. but best friends were supposed to communicate, right? maybe if you voiced your thoughts to him…

“peter?” well, that caught his attention. you rarely ever called him that. it was always a nickname of some sort. he clicked his phone off and set it to the side, sensing your… sadness? was it even that? it could be, to an extent. disappointment? pain?

“sorry, sorry. i’m here," he turned to the screen, "wait, what’s going on? why is he on the truck? why is the truck on fire? why is there fire?”

finally, you blurted out, “we’re best friends, right?”

“of course. why?” he was quick to respond, but it wasn’t enough.

“i- i just feel like… we don’t talk as much as we used to. or hang out, you know?”

“oh… well, we’ve kinda changed.”

“changed? i haven’t changed. have i?”

peter shrugged, “doesn’t everyone?”

“okay, i guess. but that’s not what i meant.”

he nodded at you, urging you to go on.

“you don’t hang out with me as much,” you repeated, unsure how to express yourself. “you’re always with liz now.”

“she’s my girlfriend,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“i’m your best friend,” you frowned.

“but… but that’s different!”

“how so?”

“because she’s my girlfriend!”

“i don’t get it. i’m your best friend. isn’t that more important? you’ve known me for, like, ten years. and suddenly, you get a girlfriend and you’re too cool to hang out with me?”

“i didn’t say that,” peter said lamely.

“okay, but isn’t that what you’re insinuating?”

“i’m not insinuating anything. and is it really a big deal? we don’t need to hang out 24/7!”

“we don’t even hang out 3/7!” you argued back, not addressing the fact that it made no sense.

“i don’t know what you want me to say. why can’t you be happy for me? you know i’ve liked liz… since, like, forever,” he picked up his phone once more, unlocking it.

“you’ve known her for less than a year!”

“so?” he defended, “that doesn’t mean it’s not meant to be!”

“what? don’t tell me you think she’s the one,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“what’s it to you?”

“a lot! you’re my best friend!”

“then act like it! why are you so pissed we’re dating?”

you stared at him. what did he want you to say? didn’t he know she wasn’t good for him? that he deserved the world, that she wasn’t it for him?

“because she doesn’t even like you like that much! she’s popular and pretty, why on earth would she go for you? don’t you think there’s a reason to that?”

the look on his face told you that you’d gone too far. and you had. you were wrong, anyways. he was everything. compared to him, liz was nothing.

“what’s wrong with you? are you jealous that you don’t have a boyfriend or something? projecting your insecurities into me? gee, real good friend you are.”

you weren’t going to act like that hadn’t stung. peter knew you had problems with your insecurities, your body-image, self-love. but you deserved it, you hurt him first. you wiped away tears you didn’t even know you were crying.

sniffling, “i’m just trying to look out for you. you can do better than her. she doesn’t love you half… half as much as…”

“as who, y/n? as who?” he looked up to meet your eyes, a scoff leaving his face. the second he saw your face, he understood.

he didn’t say another word as he left, and you didn’t stop him.

you shouldn’t have told him. you ruined everything. again.

i don't wanna talk right now i just wanna watch tv

when he left, you flicked on the tv, pretending that nothing ever happened. peter parker who? you didn’t know him. and you definitely didn’t know anything about accidentally confessing your love to him.

you kind of wanted to die. this was the worst way it could have played out, and you hated yourself for it. you should have kept your mouth shut.

i'll stay in the pool and drownso i don't have to watch you leave

you had refused to make eye contact with him as he left, simply resuming the tv. when you heard him lock the door behind him, that’s when you let yourself cry. sob after sob, wracking your body. the sound of crying as survivors played in the background. an odd mix, you’d say.

i put on survivor just to watch somebody suffer maybe i should get some sleep sinking in the sofa while they all betray each other what's the point of anything?

it was nice to see people in pain, as terrible as that sounded. people that, for once, weren’t you. someone else would feel what you were feeling, but it was a different type of pain. this one was… it was more emotional.

like thousand upon thousands of tiny daggers stabbing your heart, where every breath you took felt like glass shards dragging down your throat.

what was the point of anything? you found yourself asking that question a lot since he’d left. nothing seemed right without him. but if you were being honest, it hadn’t felt right in a long time. not since liz.

without any effort at all, she’d managed to whisk him away.

away from you. the person who loved him the most.

did he know how much easier this would be, for you and him both, if peter just realized that you were the one? not her? you scoffed a hiccup at the thought.

maybe it wasn’t meant to be. maybe you weren’t enough for him.

maybe, maybe, maybe.

all these hypotheticals, and yet you didn’t know anything for sure.

all of my friends are missing again that's what happens when you fall in love you don't have the time, you leave them all behind you tell yourself it's fine, you're just in love

you went to school the next day. you did everything like you normally would. went to all your classes, stopped by your locker.

you did everything, just as usual.

except for seeing peter. wait, no, that wasn’t accurate. you did see peter. frequently, in fact. always with liz, but that was beside the point.

you didn’t talk to him.

at least before you spoke somewhat. you got to hear his voice more… but now? not a single word. you didn’t know what to do with yourself. you hated the fact that a boy was doing this to you.

a stupid boy you’ve known for ten years and loved for six.

you used to sit in front of peter and liz, along with her friends. sure, you didn’t talk to anyone, and you had to watch them stare at each other like lovesick fools, but at least you got to be near him.

at least you had the title of best friend, which was one thing she didn’t.

or she didn’t before. who knows now?

you stood in front of the lunchroom, unsure of where to sit. your only friend was peter, really. it hadn’t always been that way.

it used to be chloe, betty, and cassie. along with peter and ned, of course.

but when peter ditched you guys for liz, you found yourself trailing after him like a lost puppy. you needed to be faithful to him. he was your best friend… or he was at some point. before.

before stupid liz, and her stupid smile, and stupid hair, and stupid… stupid everything.

love was work; you’d told yourself. maybe if he saw how you’d always be there, he’d pick you instead. maybe.

but he didn’t.

he saw liz.

he only ever saw liz.

why couldn’t he see you?

why couldn’t anyone see you?

didn’t you deserve to be seen?

didn’t you deserve something?

were you really that unlovable?

maybe, you thought, maybe.

you decided you would eat in the library. so, you went all the way into the back, and sat there quietly. closing your eyes, you let your head fall back onto the wall.

you sat on the swing, hiccupping tears to yourself softly. peter was supposed to be at math bowl practice right now, leaving you all alone. not quite knowing what to do, you went to the park. it wasn’t too late, around 5 or 6, you assumed. the sun wasn’t due to set for another hour or so.

wrapping your arms around yourself, you sniffed. the park was one of new york’s treasures, because while it was a big city, not many people knew about it. considering that, you weren’t worried about anyone else hearing you.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

you recoiled in surprise, jumping off the swing, only to see peter. hastily, you wiped your tears.

“p-peter? what are you doing here?”

“i just asked you that. aw, are you crying?” he opened his arms for you, but you just shook your head aggressively.

“no. i’m not.”

“i can see your red eyes.”

in that moment, your eleven-year-old self hated him. how dare he do you like that? but considering that he could see right through you, there was no point. reluctantly, you gave in, falling into his open arms. slowly, he brought you to the ground, not letting go of you.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“no.”

“did flash bully you again? i swear-“

“no.”

“okay, are you super duper extra sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“…no.”

“alright. i’m here whenever you want me to listen.”

“they fought again,” you murmured softly.

“who? your parents?” he asked, ever though he knew the answer.

“uh-huh.”

“i’m sorry.”

“’s okay. not your fault.”

peter pressed his lips together, thinking, “well, what if you moved in with us? you could sleep in the top bunk! or in mine with me…” he said, wiggling his brows.

“seriously,” you deadpanned.

“yep. may wouldn’t mind. she loves you more than me, anyways.”

“makes sense. hey-“ you cut him off with a laugh.

you wiped your tears, “thanks. for, you know, making me feel better.”

“that’s what i’m here for.”

“gah, but now i have a headache!” you whined.

he frowned, pulling away to inspect you, “where?”

“my- what? a-are you serious right now?”

“what? ohhh. oops.” he smiled at you, blushing lightly.

but it was different this time.

not his smile, but how it made you feel.

i'll try not to starve myself just because you're mad at me and i'll be in denial for at least a little while what about the plans we made?

it was hard taking care of yourself now. peter had always been the thing that kept you going, but now that you didn’t have him…

the kitchen seemed so far away. really, it was only a room down, but you didn’t have the energy to do anything. you could only imagine how you looked, red eyes, sunken cheeks. everything hollow from the loss of love.

it hurt. everything hurt. why couldn’t he just love you back?

you’d do anything to be in liz’s place. she had the whole world in the palm of her hand.

she had peter in the palm of her hand.

liz probably didn’t even realize how lucky she was. and yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hate her.

at age fifteen, you made your favorite memory of peter.

“peter?” you asked, lying in the grass beside him.

“yeah?”

“spencer broke up with me,” you sighed, but you weren’t too upset about it. you were just sad that no there was no one who loved you loved you like that, or even liked you.

that you were unlovable to the point where no one could love you.

“really? doesn’t he know what he’s missing out on?”

you chuckled, “not much.”

“are you kidding? you’re the prettiest, most amazing girl ever!”

“you’re saying that because you’re my best friend. it’s literally biased.”

“no! okay, well a bit. but it’s still true.”

“how’s it going with liz?” you asked, even though it pained you.

“meh. she still doesn’t know my name. but, hey, she waved at me in the hall yesterday.”

you scrunched up your nose, “i think she was waving at betty,” and after a moment added, “who was right behind you.”

“seriously,” peter groaned. “i waved back! that’s so embarrassing.”

it was quiet again for a bit.

“angel?” your heart jumped, even though he didn’t mean it romantically.

“hmm?”

“let’s make a deal.”

“what?”

“if we aren’t in love by… 30… then- then we can marry each other,” you didn’t tell if he was joking, so you turned to look at him.

“are you being for real?”

“’m bein’ so for real.”

“you know what,” your heart fluttered again, “sure.”

he put out his hand, and grinning, you shook it.

you were stupid to think it was ever a possibility.

now all of my friends are missing again 'cause that's what happens when you fall in love you don't have the time, you leave them all behind and you tell yourself it's fine, you're just in love

what hurt the most was that no one ever checked up on you or thought to spare a second to say hi. not any of your past friends, not even peter. it’d been almost a month since you’d told him, but he’d cut all contact. well, except betty. she’d text you occasionally, just to say hi. you didn’t respond that often anymore.

it was fine, you told yourself.

maybe this is what you deserved.

you watched them kiss in the halls, so full of joy. the opposite of yourself.

you doubted you’d ever move on from him. maybe it was a first love, last love type of thing. maybe.

hearing a buzz, you just barely turned around to pick up your phone off the bed-side table.

betty

you’ll never believe what i just heard

betty

peter said he used to be in love with you

betty

since like 6th grade to idk

betty

isn’t that crazy?

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #angst #tom holland x you #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine

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douwatahima · 4 months

Text

thinking about episode one of our flag means death ending with "high on a rocky ledge"; a song about taking a leap of faith, dying and being reborn, in order to make a new life with the person you love

thinking about ed, crying in a blanket fort, clinging to a life that's been ripped away from him, thinking he'll die if he doesn't, being asked by a friend, "what if it's not a death? what if life just begins again?"

thinking about stede, spending all of season one stuck between the life society told him he should want and the new life he's created for himself, devising a plan to kill his old self completely so he can go find the man he now knows that he loves

thinking about ed drowning in the gravy basket, fighting against the rock he himself tied around his own waist, getting saved by the sound of stede's voice and the vision of stede that comes to meet him where he is, that stays with him until he's ready to open his eyes

thinking about anne and mary, stuck in a cycle of sadistic games, not communicating how they really feel, finally showing real love to each other when anne burns down the life that's suffocating them and sets them free

thinking about buttons, telling ed "to love the sea as she should be loved requires change", performing seemingly impossible acts of magic to achieve his goal and turning into a seagull before flying off towards the sea

thinking about lucius, stuck in a cycle of reliving his suffering, being told he never talks about how he lived, being told "not moving on is worse", choosing to change and marking that change by asking pete to spend the rest of his life with him

thinking about ed trying to constantly reject parts of himself, to cut out the pieces that keep him up at night, hearing the echoes of stede's screams in his own mind and choosing to embrace his darkness for love this time, rising from the depths of the sea (edward teach reborn on a beach) and immediately coming across a letter from stede echoing back that he is loved he is loved he is loved

thinking about ed and stede waving goodbye to a ship as it sails away and choosing again to change, to try for a life of their own making but this time together as one, starting from the bottom, unsure where to begin, but smiling anyway; "it's got good bones"

thinking about that constant cycle (death and rebirth, death and rebirth), about how it's never too late to become who you are, about how change can seem scary, near impossible at times, but knowing on the other side there is the potential for freedom, for happiness, for love

"dying to be with her wasn't any sacrifice" indeed

#tv: our flag means death #ofmd #wrote this at one in the morning and made myself cry #anyway the point i'm trying to make is ''high on a rocky ledge'' should play in the series finale thank you for coming to my ted talk

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apocalypse-shuffle · 11 months

Text

PETER PARKER | SPIDER-MAN (tasm)

────────────────────

“Break” (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader)

| You visit Pete to let off some stress and to get out of your own head. He’s more than happy for the distraction.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, cockwarming, oral (male receiving), spacing out, in a zoom meeting

| Picture source: Spider-Man: No Way Home (left) and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (right)

| 1k+ words

You close your laptop only a little harshly, finally done with your work for the day. Now, you could read or do something else to decompress and rest your eyes from the strain of your computer screen, but something is pushing you towards your boyfriend in specific.

You know that - in a shocking twist of events - he’s working on a group project for one of his classes before the deadline and whilst not under threat of death, so you haven’t seen him in a few hours. He’s never rejected your presence as long as you weren’t disruptive though, so? You shrug and walk off towards his room. No harm in testing it out. You feel the tiniest bit deprived of your Peter and you want to give your mind a break anyway.

When you poke your head around the bedroom door he turns to you languidly, no startling and no obvious irritation on his face. Considering he likely heard you traveling towards him you’d take all that as a good sign. You nod to yourself and walk in, carefully clicking the door shut.

He taps his pen absentmindedly against the scarcely filled notebook by his hands.

“What’s up?” his voice is soft and he gives you his usual bright utterly smitten smile that makes you want to die (in a good way). “Class go well?”

You smile just as sappily back at him and revel in the way it makes him soften even more.

“It was alright.” You incline your head as he chuckles. “I could use some of your company though. You know, if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Ooof - I don’t know? My schedule’s pretty packed. I’ll have to check with my assistant to see if there’s any way I can move some things around.” He takes a second to unmute to declare he’s still present, apparently on hold because of complications on somebody else’s end. He beckons you over right afterwards though, grinning. “Well lucky you, Pretty Girl, it seems like I can squeeze you in. You have something to do?”

You shrug, leaning against the door.

“I have four hours to waste, which means I have four hours to relax. If you wanna fuck around some?”

His eyes widen briefly before he starts hurriedly moving things around.

“Oh,” he breathes. He knows exactly how you like to fuck around when your stressed. “Like right now, you mean? Cause I uhh-”

The moment you slip off your shorts Peter’s tongue catches. All he can do after that is look at you wide eyed for the entire time it takes you to cross the room to his desk. He only snaps out of it when you’re kneeling in front of him and running your hands up his thighs.

He makes a choked noise, hand jerking up to cover his mike and pull it away from his mouth even with it already being off. He scrambles to click his camera off a second later too.

“Are you sure?”

He whispers it like a kid with an especially juicy secret about stuff that was only really drama to people below the age of twelve, and you laugh, shrugging.

“I mean if you’re sure then yeah. You’re the one who’s on call right now.” Your lips purse after that as a thought strikes you and you shake your head.

Honestly, that was pretty sound reasoning to not keep going so you switch gears, standing and starting to move for the living room again.

“Or maybe we shouldn’t. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve seen you sit down to work with those people since the semester started,” you throw over your shoulder.

Peter’s chair squeaks as he pushes it back.

“No no no, get your pretty self back here.”

The telltale thwip of his web-shooters sounds a moment before webbing hits your side and you’re being spun around. The yelp you let out turns quickly into laughter as Peter comes back into view while reeling you in.

“That’s not a very responsible use of your powers, Spider.”

Peter grins, arms circling your lower half, and you wrap your hands around his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Oh really? You know what I think is irresponsible?”

“What?” you mock softly.

Peter chuckles and the hands on your hips squeeze, pulling you even closer. Pressed flush together he places a short kiss to your lips and you can’t not let out a tiny sigh at that.

“You being a tease when you know I can’t get enough of you.” Peter leans in and kisses you a little longer this time. When he pulls back away his eyes are twinkling and his pupils are a little blown, “Please can you get back on your knees for me? I mean you’ve got your pants off and everything, it'd be a real shame to waste that.”

“A shame. Really?”

Peter nods fully serious at your dubious tone.

“Yeah, worth shedding a few tears over. You want me to cry in front of all these people, Pretty Girl? Cause I will.”

That, that overdramatic lilt to his voice, has you rolling your eyes and sucking your teeth. “Just hurry up and sit down - but know I'm not taking any crap for how low your group participation rating is gonna be.”

Peter’s smile is blinding, “Totally fair,” he nods. A second later he swoops in to kiss you some more, leading you back to his desk without coming up for air and then darting around to move all his stuff around to make room for you.

“Give me a second to finish this module then I’m all yours, K?”

His voice is rushed as he’s looking at you with obvious interest and you nod, you could wait a few extra minutes. Especially considering that you could act annoyed with him all you wanted, but at the end of the day this had been your idea first; he was accommodating you.

You kneel on the carpeted floor, hidden under the desk you’d gifted him after riding the subway with it balanced on your head.

When you’re settled down there you wait maybe five minutes for him to say a portion of his piece before deciding it’d be way more fun to fuck with him a little. You smile up at him, making sure to catch the panic that flashes across his face, before leaning in and ghosting the tip of your nose over where you know his cock is hiding in his shorts.

You make eye contact, “Can I?”

Peter’s leg jumps and the rest of his sentence comes out in a rushed choked up jumble.

That soft needy question you pose is apparently all the incentive he needed to let you start before he’s finished presenting though because in a second he’s reaching his hand back for one of his pillows and dropping it down for you to kneel on. You do so with a small chuckle and a “thank you.”

He’s trembling and giving you the most eager looks in between participating, voice mainly only keeping steady because you’ve stopped trying to distract him. Now you just want him in your mouth, no mischief needed. Though he is still fidgeting; partially because he knows if the inclination struck you you could easily embarrass the hell out of him. All that vigilante shit be damned Spider-man may be ingurigable but Peter’s greatest weakness was you.

You laugh and move to pull his pants down his thighs with his assistance. Once he’s free to your satisfaction you brush the lightest kiss to his happy trail. He sighs, meeting your gaze intermittently as he talks through his turns. In response you trail featherlight kisses down to his cock, which is steadily hardening for your consideration, kiss at his base and then travel down to lick over his balls.

His voice stutters harshly over his next sentence and you smile before pulling away. He gives you this aggrieved desperate look, making as if he’s about to start complaining you, but you wave him off.

“Easy baby,” you mouth right before making him gasp by kissing his tip and then wrapping your lips around his head.

You keep your pace easygoing as Peter stutters and stops over his words; as he trembles against you, dick twitching while you slowly engulf him.

You wring your first moan out of him when you’ve gotten him all the way down your throat, mind steadily blanking on anything other than the weight of him on your tongue and the slight twinge in your jaw, when the back of your throat swallows over his head and you hum happily.

His head drops down and his hand clumsily snaps out to mute his microphone.

“O-oh, oh my god. It’s like you’re trying to kill me -fuck,” he groans.

You barely hear him, have no clue that when he moaned that he nearly did it for everyone to hear. You're just losing yourself in the sensations. The way he pulses in your mouth, the occasional twitch as he struggles not to fuck into your throat, how your jaw feels, the stretch of your lips, and then the drool running clear like polished glass down your chin and dripping onto Peter’s balls.

You sigh, going limp against him when his hand moves to your head. He burrows his fingers into your thick curls to get a firm grip but doesn’t do anything else. You swallow around his cock again in thanks, only in tune with the way it makes him shift against you. In the strangled noise he makes. The fact he’s on call isn’t even a factor any more; just his pleasure and how he feels in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut happily as he scratches blunt nails against your scalp.

“God baby,” he gasps and you whine just the tiniest bit, pussy twinging between your legs. Your hands don’t move from their position in your lap though.

Peter’s got you. The thought echoes in your mind nicely as you hand over control. You don’t have to worry about anything else but him.

- - -

Peter curses above your head, completely unregistered by you, and then rushes to get himself excused. You’re making him feel very good and for that you deserve all his attention - and boy does he want to give it. Plus, you dropped so fast that he’s a bit worried about you; it typically took way more coaxing from him to get you so completely out of your own head like this.

He’s extra careful with his movements as he logs off and shuts down his setup, but eyes draw fully to you once he’s done and don’t leave. You were too pretty like this, face relaxed like it only ever was in sleep with your lips stretched to accommodate his girth.

He brushes his free hand over your face when he shifts too much for your liking and you let out an utterly disparaging whine.

“Shh, Pretty Girl, it’s alright. You’re doing so good for me, you know that? I’ve got you I promise,” he grinds forward the smallest bit, moaning when you squeeze down. “So so good.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I plan on posting spider-verse fics soon but since I’ve been working on this TASM!Spidey one I decided to go ahead and post it first.

Mind any inconsistencies/typos pls! I’ll get to them eventually.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

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