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tkaulitzlvr · 5 months

Note

can you make a tom!sub? also i am INLOVE with all your writings💓💓

i was thinking if you could write tom being submissive and the (female) reader not letting him finish untill she says so?also if the story could contain some stuff like handcuffs and you know you know... ( only if your comfortable! )

thank you again and no rush! take your time💓

PLEASE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after tom loses a bet that the two of you had made, as promised he has to face his consequence - which involves the roles you usually have in bed completely reversing for the first time.

content: smut

a/n: sub tom has been requested soooo much on my account and honestly i’ve avoided it cause in my eyes he’s like the most obvious dom and that’s all i see him as…but him as a sub is just as hot so i finally decided to write it - i hope it lives up to ur expectations🙏

my eyes light up when i watch tom look down with a cheesy grin plastered on his face, no longer able to hold eye contact after i had blown him a kiss and winked from behind the barrier. i can just about distinguish his features from the dull flashing lights of the venue, and most importantly, the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. i made him blush. the bet which, in any other circumstance would be completely ridiculous, had never meant so much until now. the whole idea is somewhat stupid, tom deciding that it would be fun to see who could make the other blush first - clearly under the impression that he would win. the reward, though not explicitly discussed, is the thing that excites me the most, the endless possibilities from the vague prize of ‘getting whatever you want from the other person’ too good to pass up.

and by the way tom shoots me a quick glance, a defeated smile tugging on his lips, he knows that he has lost too. he shakes his head and mutters something under his breath - not that i can hear it, the speakers blasting out the band’s music paired with psychotic fans’ screams stop me from hearing even what the person next to me is saying. his fingers resume their fast-paced strumming on the guitar splayed across his lap, eyes occasionally darting in my direction until he stands on the stage above me, in line with the rest of his band.

“thank you so much for coming tonight paris. we love you all and hope to see you again soon, goodbye!” bill’s voice is followed by thousands of high-pitched screams, the irritating sound only seeming to get louder when tom snatches the microphone from his brother, shouting ‘thankyou’ to the crowd in his thick german accent.

i make my way to the backstage area whilst tom and the rest of the band say goodbye to the fans, throwing drum sticks and guitar picks into the crowd as they would after every show. i flop down onto one of the couches, the loud screaming still not slowing down as i wait for tom to exit the stage, knowing that he won’t be thrilled after losing the bet he was so eager to initiate.

“you did so good baby, i’m so proud of you!” i smile widely when tom walks through the door, standing up from the sofa and engulfing him in a tight hug, burying my head into his shoulder. he smiles weakly, planting a soft kiss into my hair and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you schatz.” he mumbles, his voice somewhat sad despite the wide smiles that remain etched on the rest of his band members faces - the show they have just performed being one of their best so far, practically flawless. tom pulls away and moves to sit on the couch behind me, sighing frustratedly and spreading his body across it. i don’t need to ask why he is so upset - not only because the reason is totally obvious, but he decides to express his annoyance himself.

“i can’t believe you won.” he groans, tilting his head back and letting it rest against the back of the couch. he gives me a small smile, not intending to seem mad with me, instead he seems annoyed with himself. he opens his arms out, gesturing for me to join him on the couch. i move over, sitting beside him as he wraps an arm around me.

“have you thought of anything yet? for your reward, i mean.” the pads of his fingertips run along my arm, his chin resting on my head as i smile slowly, knowing the answer to his question the second he had asked it - hell, i had known exactly what i would do if i won the second he proposed the bet.

“i think i have something in mind.”

“you want to be in control?” his face displays a mix of confusion and interest, his eyebrows raised, slight smirk on his lips. i nod my head, moving closer forward as i already straddle his lap with my hair disheveled and lips swollen - tom having initiated something the second we had entered the hotel room. things didn’t turn out the way he had expected though, my hand resting firmly on his chest when he had attempted to climb on top, as he did every other time.

he tilts his head to the side, seeing that i am completely serious about this. his hands find my waist, fingers threading through the loops in my jeans as he grinds my hips over his already prominent erection. i shake my head when he tries to manoeuvre my hips again, placing my hands over his and stopping his movements entirely. his eyes widen, body stuck in place as he seems startled by my sudden change in attitude, knowing that usually i would be underneath him in this moment. he shifts around a little, squirming beneath me and sitting up slightly, his back now resting against the headboard as my legs are wrapped around his waist.

“stay still.” i rest my hands flat against his chest, watching as his mouth falls open a little, lips parted as he looks up at me, his gaze bordering desperate as i can tell that he wants me to do something, though he doesn’t know how to say it.

i shift my hips to get closer to him, a low groan leaving his lips in the process, soon cut off when i press my lips to his own, his noises muffled into my mouth. and when i begin to grind against him at a more consistent pace, his ability to kiss back seems to diminish by the second, his breath hitching in his throat. i pull away, watching as his face falls in disappointment, clearly wanting more than just a kiss. and i plan on giving him that, as long as he uses his words, just as he tells me to.

though words can wait for now, my actions taking control as i reach forward, my hands finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift the material upward and off of his frame, revealing his toned upper half. i throw it to the floor somewhere, returning my attention to tom as his hands reach out, attempting to pull my own small crop top off. he doesn’t get far though, his hands roughly returned to his side as i shake my head.

“no touching. not unless i say so.” he seems to understand that he has next to no control right now, that he can do nothing but wait on me, and i can tell that it irritates him, a low groan sounding from his lips. my eyes never tear away from his own, watching the way he stares intently at my cleavage, eyes drinking it all in as i lift my top over my head, revealing the small lace bra holding my breasts in place. his tongue comes out to flick the small metal piercing that rests on his bottom lip, eyes quickly darkening.

“fuck baby…let me touch you- please.” his voice is barely above a whisper, bordering between frustrated and desperate, both causing him to go next to insane as i deprive him of the one thing he relies on to show affection - touch. he begins to squirm beneath me, attempting to create some sort of friction between us, his hips moving up and down along my clothed heat.

“sit still or you won’t get to touch me at all. you have to be patient.” i scold, watching as he nods his head, his movements soon slowing, cut off by his breath hitching in his throat when my hands make contact with the small metal button of his jeans, undoing it slowly. his eyes stay locked on my fingers, watching as i tug the zipper down, showing no resistance and instead bucking his hips upward and allowing me to slide the denim off of his body when i tug it downward, the material pooling at his feet. i quickly slip out of my mini-skirt, our underwear now the only thing separating us, and i can tell that it drives him crazy.

his chest rises up and down, a thin coat of sweat lining his forehead as his entire body jolts with even the slightest of movements, desperate whines leaving his lips when my hands finally palm him through his boxers, the first bit of attention i give towards the place where he craves it most.

“fuck…oh god, oh my god.” his head falls backward, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when i run the palm of my hand up and down his length, still separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. his erection seems to get more and more painful with each second, every gentle touch i press to his clothed dick generating more sounds from his parted lips - small whines soon turning to loud groans, to the point where he can’t handle it any longer.

“please schatz…do something…need it so bad-shit!” his eyes squeeze shut, wincing slightly when i touch his tip through his boxers, this area more sensitive than the rest of him. despite his pleas, i decide to go that little bit further, knowing how crazy it will drive him.

“what do you want me to do tom?” my voice is low, crossing the line between innocent and seductive, creating a sickly mix of the two that seems to drive him crazy. my head moves downward, lips directly against his ear as i take his lobe in my mouth, biting it lightly before releasing it, feeling the way his whole body shivers below me. my lips make contact with his neck, placing slow kisses, just enough to tease him a little more. “you have to tell me what you want baby.”

“you want my hands?” i whisper into his ear, my hand trailing to palm him once again, yet another groan falling from his lips. “or my mouth, maybe?” i take the skin of his neck between my teeth, sucking slowly before letting it go, my tongue running over it momentarily. he stays quiet, his breathing heavy and body becoming more restless.

“or…” i add, pausing for a few seconds, buying time to leave him guessing, pulling back to study his face, the sight enough to resemble heaven on earth - or at least something pretty damn close to it. his eyes are half-lidded, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue poking out of his mouth. he watches me intently, eyes fixed on my hand as it moves to grab his own, trailing downward to my clothed heat, placing it flat against my panties. “do you want this?”

he nods his head rapidly, fingers trying to pull the lace from my lower half, not getting far as i pull them back, leaving him even more desperate than he was seconds ago.

“need to be inside you.” he whines, sighing under his breath and adjusting himself once again, thrusting his hips ever so slightly in the hopes that he will feel any contact, even if it is only for a second. but when i smile weakly above him, sitting up a little and reaching for my panties, his eyes visibly light up, thrilled by the possibility of finally getting what he wants. i step out of my underwear, fingers finding the clasp of my bra and removing it from my frame. tom’s eyes scan my body hungrily, starting at my now exposed breasts, moving down to my lower half. his hands reach outward, making contact with my waist as he pulls me closer to him. i let him this time, watching the way relief takes over his expression from being granted the simple permission of touching my body.

the pads of his fingertips trail upward, moving along my stomach, just about to touch my breasts before i stop him, much to his frustration.

“please baby…can’t take it- need you so bad, need to touch you…” he is practically begging at this point, his body tired and sweaty beneath me, desperate for any sort of relief.

“wait.” i state simply, showing him no sympathy, though my actions seem to act as some consolation as my hands make contact with the waistband of his boxers, fingers dipping underneath them teasingly. his breath catches in his throat, breathing becoming even more erratic as i get closer and closer to giving him what he wants, before tearing away his hope and moving my fingers almost completely away. i tug on the waistband, slipping my fingers in once again, inching closer to his dick, the presence of his boxers frustrating to him as i can only do so much with them there. my hand finds his length as i run a single finger down it, a loud moan pouring from tom’s lips as his head falls backward. i struggle to fit another finger into his boxers, the fabric restricting my movements too much - and it drives him insane.

“fuck schatz…take ‘em off, please…just take them off.” he whines loudly, groaning when i slip my hand out of his boxers, only to tug them down ever so slowly, almost too slowly for tom as he bucks his hips slightly. his dick springs free, hitting his lower abdomen and god, the sight is enough to make me cum on the spot. it is almost painfully hard, the veins within it more prominent than ever, the tip red as pre-cum spills out of it. i almost pity him, watching how he grunts at the slight touch of my fingers wrapping their way around the base.

he hisses when i pump him a few times, my thumb moving to swirl around his tip, his mouth falling open whenever i apply pressure. i don’t give him too much, though, nothing that brings him anywhere close to his release, just enough to show him what he can receive, and he craves for more.

“please just sit on it, please schatz…i can’t, want you so bad- fuck!” he attempts to bring one hand to his hard dick, stroking it once before i pull him away roughly, swatting his hand and placing it by his side.

“what did i say, hm? you have to listen to me to get what you want.” all he can do is nod his head, far too focused on my actions as i speak his eyes glued to my heat as i begin to move forward, lifting my hips upward so that his tip is aligned directly with my entrance. my hands place themselves on his shoulders, maintaining a firm hold before slowly sliding downward, taking just the tip inside of me. he whines loudly, hands flying to rest on my waist, his fingers already digging into the skin, bound to leave marks.

i lift my hips upward after a few seconds, his tip sliding out of me as he whines in frustration, desperate for something, anything, besides from being teased like this. he knows that there is no point in trying to do anything himself - realising that i will just stop him. instead, he watches impatiently as i shift my hips downward again, taking a little more inside me than i did last time. i moan quietly at the sensation, his dick slowly stretching me out as i stop when he is around halfway.

his eyes are now completely closed, squeezing shut as his mouth is now wide open, chest rising and falling at a fast pace, clearly far too lost in pleasure from my minimal acts to think about anything else.

“tell me what you want baby.” my voice is more forgiving this time, lacking the harsh tone it had when i scolded him all those times. now he knows better than to initiate anything, his eyes slowly opening when he registers what i say.

“keep going.” he pleads, his hands trailing to my hips, squeezing the flesh roughly. he clears his throat, though his ability to sound even a little bit composed is long gone, and he knows it too, soon realising when he opens his mouth to speak again, his voice low and whiny. “take all of me, please baby…”

i lean my face closer to his own, lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. “open your eyes…watch me.” i smile when his eyes flutter open, dark and tired, their gaze flickering to watch where we are connected, struggling to stay open when his dick begins to slowly disappear inside of me, inch my inch.

“oh god-fuck…feels so good…” i haven’t even moved yet, staying sat completely on top of him, not circling my hips and instead adjusting to his size, my walls stretched out as i wait for the pain to turn to pleasure. it doesn’t matter that i haven’t done anything yet, not to tom, anyway. the evident euphoria on his face tells me enough, the continuous teasing i had put him through meaning that literally anything is enough to leave him a moaning mess.

and when i begin to circle my hips, grinding them over his pelvis, the noises that sound from his parted lips become louder and more inaudible, once clear attempts to say my name now barely understandable, lost in the whines that take over any speech. his body shines with a thick layer of sweat, highlighting each defined muscle from beneath me as they contract with each harsh squeeze of my hips. i lift them up, almost all the way off of tom’s dick, before slamming back onto it, soft curses spilling from his lips when i repeat my motions, soon finding a fast rhythm. somehow his hands don’t leave my waist, taking advantage of how i allow them to rest there, afraid that i will tear them away if he decides to move them anywhere else. but i see the way his eyes are fixated on my breasts, fighting the urge to close them purely so he can watch the way they bounce up and down with each movement of my hips. there are times when he jerks his hand upward, seeming to hesitate and return it to its position on my waist, though it doesn’t take long for the urge to become too strong.

“let me touch them liebe…please- just wanna touch them.” a string of pleas follow his request, his voice returning to a low whisper as he awaits my response, his head falling backward when i angle my hips a certain way, his tip brushing directly against my g-spot. i moan loudly at the feeling, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i repeat my movement, his tip drilling against it repeatedly. i am far too lost in pleasure to refuse his ask, nodding my head and mumbling a quick and almost inaudible “go ahead baby”.

and he wastes no time, his hands rushing to cup my breasts, his thumbs running over the hardened nipples as he lets out a satisfied groan. he squeezes the flesh harshly, mesmerised by the feeling as the movements of his hands become more feverish, his need seeming to increase as he moves his head forward, allowing his lips to make contact with them. he places rough and open-mouthed kisses onto the flesh, kneading what isn’t in his mouth, sucking on my breast for a few seconds before running his tongue over the skin, his lips leaving a trail of purple marks scattered across my chest.

“i’m so close…please don’t stop baby- fuck, don’t stop- please!” his voice vibrates against my breast as he continues to kiss the skin, often cut off momentarily by a loud groan whenever i clench around him. and i can tell that he means it, his dick twitching inside of me every few seconds, the frequency of his moans increasing with each movement of my hips.

“you’re not cumming yet.” i state through breathy moans, circling my hips and digging my hails into his shoulders. he whines in response, pulling his head away from my breast to look upward at me. “hold it, you have to wait for me, mhm?”

“can’t baby- i can’t…fuck- it hurts so bad…” if i weren’t to desperate to chase my own release, i would probably pity him and let him cum out of sympathy, though now all i can focus on is finding my own climax, my bounces becoming more sloppy and feverish, craving nothing more than to release the knot in my stomach that begins to build.

“yes you can.” i breathe out, taking my hands and pressing them to the back of his head, bringing his lips closer to my breasts and moaning when his tongue swipes across my nipple. “you can cum when i say so.”

the knot in my stomach becomes more noticeable, my free hand moving downward to rub soft circles on my clit, my head falling backward at the overwhelming pleasure, knowing that it won’t be long until i get to my release. i don’t tell tom that, though, watching intently as he can no longer plant firm kisses to my breasts, instead he falls backward to rest his upper half against the headboard, soft and frequent curses pouring from his lips as he holds back his release, the task becoming harder and harder for him as each second passes.

my own head falls backward, eyes rolling back as i finally let go, feeling my release wash over me. i clutch onto tom’s back for support, rocking my hips back and forth slowly as i ride out my high, still aware that tom hasn’t come yet. and i can tell that he can’t hold on much longer.

“please baby…please let me cum- it hurts so bad schatz, shit!” tears begin to roll down his cheeks, soft whines spilling from his lips far more often than before. the slow roll of my hips on his dick doesn’t help - the angle allowing him to hit the deepest spots inside of me, my walls unconsciously clenching around him when the pleasure gets too much. “need it so bad baby, just wanna cum, please…”

my lips collide with his softly as he still tries to kiss back, the taste of tears on his mouth as i move against him slowly. “c’mon, cum baby…” he sighs loudly once he registers that he has my permission, no longer able to kiss back as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut and eyebrows furrowing, loud and elongated groans elicited from his lips as i feel his hot cum shoot into me, coating my walls as i ride out his high.

“shitshitshit…oh my fucking god!” he begins to lazily thrust upward into me, anything to increase the pleasure he already feels, his movements somehow matching mine as he moans into my mouth, his hands glued to my hips. his nails dig into the skin, leaving harsh marks there. eventually, both our movements slow down, tom’s body trembling as it lays against the headboard, his breathing fast and heavy. i collapse on top of him, his dick still inside of me as i rest my head on his chest. he rubs my back up and down, fingers tracing random patterns there.

“fuck me.” he mumbles into the now silent room, my head whipping upward to look at him, his fucked out expression enough to leave me mesmerised, taking in every feature on his face - the way his eyes struggle to stay open, slight wrinkles on his forehead from his furrowed brows, his lips remaining slightly parted, he somehow looks perfect. “you need to be on top more baby, that’s the best sex we’ve had.”

his hand tiredly reaches to cup my cheek, drawing my face nearer to his as he connects our lips. the kiss is lazy and sloppy, still filled with passion as i press my lips firmly onto his own. he pecks them a few more times before pulling away, standing up and pulling me toward the bathroom to clean up.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tomkaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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letosmauddib · 1 month

Text

Difficult Arrangements

FEYD RAUTHA x Y/N reader - arranged marriage (she/ her pronouns)

18+ - please do not read/ interact if you are underage / uncomfortable

Warnings - Implied Smut, (It's on in part 2 <3 -), pregnancy mentions, arranged marriage factors, medical talk, speaking of breeding?

please interact! I love to see the feedback:)

PT.2 HERE-

“The best course of action might be a stimulant, something to engage her desire for more frequent intercourse?” She felt like the examination table was growing colder against her. She stared down at her socked feet, trying to keep herself away from the conversation the three men in the room were having regarding her desire to fucking her husband. Feyd stood next to her slumped form, growing increasingly annoyed with what he was deeming to be a ridiculous conversation. “What have the endless tests you’ve been performing resulted in? Seemingly a waste of time..” He responded, annoyed at their uncertain responses and experimental solutions. “Na-Baron, Sir… the sake of the lineage needs to make sure the compatibility is there..it’s unfortunately not very simple to resolve with just practical medicine.” She glanced at his blank expression, his jaw clenched; “So what are you two doing to assist the issue?” “We have been researching natural ways to accelerate or increase the probability of pregnancy and we believe the stimulants in specific foods can help. Another practice has been proven to help as well..” The medic adjusted his stance, not seemingly wanting to speak on it further. Feyd was losing patience fast, “And it is?” “Making sure there is a willingness from the female to er- engage, and for her to accomplish climax during the ovulation period…” Her brain felt like it could slip out of her head, three men discussing the logistics of her lack of orgasm and lack of pregnancy being connected. Her willingness to become impregnated with Feyd-Rautha’s child was being questioned. She sits across from dozens of scans and files on her body. Y/N blanked out the rest of the conversation, tired from her lack of sleep and her lack of breakfast. She had grown used to the schedule set by her husband and felt the effects of falling out of schedule. As the discussion toned down, she felt herself unable to daze off. “No, she won’t be touched or examined by a man. I’ve stated this before and I am growing quite a disdain for these stupid statements..” He wasn’t being difficult due to interest in her lack of comfort, it was more his. Feyd was territorial with what he deemed to be ‘his’. Every male around understood they could lose a limb, or their lives if they attempted to touch her. Guards were extraordinarily careful, whilst noblemen and relatives acted as though she simply did not exist. “Na-Baron, her the Na-Baroness’ nurse and doctor are off-planet and won’t be back for at least a week.” “Then, the examination will happen in a week. I would strongly advise both of you to step out and get back to finding more helpful solutions.” Both medics excused themselves as they stepped out. Leaving them alone in the examination room. Feyd glanced over her form, his hand slipped to the back of her neck, fingers against her soft hair. “Even more quiet than usual mouse…”

She could feel the tears building but she couldn’t do it, “I-I’ve grown quite tired of these appointments.” She whispered. “I just wish I would just be pregnant..” Feyd wasn’t one to show much empathy or emotion since their courtship. He was quite a lunatic and had complete disregard for anyone and everything around him. But he noticed her defeat, 6 months of marriage attempts since their wedding, and no heir. She was raised to strive for motherhood and couldn’t seem to accomplish the part of becoming a mother. “I have to get back to training, let’s get you to the dining room for breakfast.”

He walked next to her, keeping her at a close distance through their stride of the endless hallway. Her mind drifted off to how loving her parents were, how they held hands through walks and constantly embraced. She wasn’t sure how he would react to an attempt at affection. Although she craved the sweetness of a hug or a cuddle, she didn’t think to attempt anything. She slowed down to glance out the giant windows. She longed for soft grass fields and flowers to step through and lay in from her home world. Feyd could see her longing stare, he knew well that she wasn’t present in those silent moments.

They didn’t say a word to each other until they reached the dining room. The servants were setting up a big portioned breakfast. “I will be back after training, I want all of your portions eaten. I will be reported back to.” She nodded, not up for arguing with her husband today. Before she could step in, his strong arms pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were rough against hers, her hands instinctively reaching for his waist. Before it could deepen, he pulled away, allowing her to step back. “I’ll be devouring you for a nice late breakfast after training. Be good for me pet.” She nodded sheepishly, aware of his statement, and she approached her predetermined feast.

PT. 2 coming sooon

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune pt 2 #feyd oneshot #austin butler #dune part two #dune #dune movie #smut imagine #imagine #one shot #drabble #fanfiction #fanfic

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gojos-thot-patrol · 9 months

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Ok, LISTEN. I'm about half way through seven minuets in heaven pt.2, but because I'm working on it while watching season 2, I got SatoSugu on my mind. so...

Now Presenting...

A little SatoSugu themed supplementary material.

Ok, so let's start standard

Suguru is a psychology major with a minor in musical performance

Satoru is a theoretical physics major with no minor because "ew, minors."

Suguru joined the ABO frat because fraternity housing is wayyy fucking cheaper than living in the dorms. Plus, easy access to booze.

Gojo did it for the memes and cause his best friend was joining.

Suguru is for sure an alcoholic and in denial about it

Gojo smoked weed once and won't shut up about it. He does take a weak ass edible every once in awhile to sleep though.

Gojos tolerance is absolutely shit. Two shots and three puffs in and he is gone!

Suguru on the other hand could drink an entire bottle of tequila and smoke 12 joints and only really be kinda buzzed.

Suguru is definitely in denial about his bisexuality. Everything that he does with Gojo is just for female attention, ya know?

Especially when they're making out alone in their shared room. That's definitely for attention. Source:just trust me bro

Gojo is very comfortable in his pansexuality, and has been known to use "are you a frying pan? Cause you're so fucking hot" as a pickup line.

Ok, now for their background!

Suguru and Gojo actually grew up together, and are the closest anyone can get to childhood friends,

Which morphed into the well documented phenomenon of an all too intense friendship that blurs the line of friends and dating, where if one of them were the opposite gender they would totally be together, but because they’re both boys there using that as a shield to avoid confronting their identities beyond the default settings

They were each other's first kiss 💋

Gojo actually had really kind and loving parents who were very supportive.

Sugurus' mom died when he was young though, leaving him and his dad to struggle. His dad wasn't necessarily bad, but he did have to work constantly and therefore wasn't home often.

Gojo was naturally smart and school came very easy to him. Meanwhile, Suguru struggled a lot, specifically with anything math related.

This led to Gojo, with his great grades and generational wealth, being able to go to basically any college he wanted to.

He still decided to go to the local community College in the end, at least to get his gen-eds and the first few years of his major out of the way at a heavily discounted price.

Yea, Suguru had no such opportunity, his options were community College or to start working with his dad as a mechanic immediately.

And while he's not opposed to the idea of working with his father, and will even work with him for some extra spending money in the summers, he really wanted to give the whole higher education thing a shot.

He's very proud to be in his community College, as he's the first person in his family to even attempt to get a degree

Now, here's how they are in a relationship because you can't have just one.

These boys have historically shared everything: their hot wheels, their Xbox, their bed, and their women. You are no exception. Lucky you 💜💙

When it comes to the three of you together, you find the boys actually work extremely well as a unit.

Where one struggles, the other thrives. Gojo isn't great when it comes to emotional venting and stuff, always looking to "fix" it.

Suguru is better at actually listening and only offering advice when you ask. He’s always willing to just cuddle and listen.

Suguru is terrible to try and watch movies with, he gets bored so fast. Meanwhile Gojo is obsessed with movies.

Gojos fixer attitude also comes in clutch whenever you need to get something done, but just do not have it in you to do it. Need to call a doctor but have phone anxiety? Gojos your man.

Suguru craves to be the primary partner for both you and Gojo. Yes he's aware this is irrational, no he's not sure what to do about it. All he knows is that he gets jealous when he sees you with Gojo, and has to find ways to cope.

To his credit, he's never made this a problem for anyone other than himself, and he is actively working on it.

Gojo on the other hand fucking loves to see you and Suguru spending time together. Those are his two favorite people in the god damn world, aren't they cute?!

Sugurus love language is music. He'll make you playlists, old fashioned mix tapes, and has forced you to listen to vinyl with him. He's written songs about you too, though he's too shy to show them off.

Will play his guitar for you only when asked because he knows the optics of 'frat guy with a guitar' are not ideal.

Gojo shows his love by sharing his candy. Splitting a Kit Kat, giving you a handful of skittles, sharing a sleeve of oreos. If Gojo shares his sweets with you he wants to marry you.

They two of you bond by baking together. You buy new cute molds and cookware together and set up entire spreads based on one theme.

Suguru was probably the first one to be in your life: I.E. the one that you agreed to date before realizing (and agreeing to) the package deal.

But Gojo said I love you first. He feels everything at 100% and hides none of it.

He said it loudly and in front of the rest of the frat, showing you off to everyone.

When Suguru said it for the first time though, it was quiet; whispered to you late at night while you were curled up in his arms.

Both of the boys are massive cuddle bugs!

You call them Sugubear and Satotoro. Gojo loves it and Suguru does too, but he pretends he doesn't.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satosugu #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #satosugu x reader

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johnkahner · 7 months

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Can you write something where Female Reader stands up for Smoke when Bihan insults him?

Everytime I watch the scene where Bihan belittle Tomas that his blood will never be Lin Kuei, it makes my blood boil and feel protective of Smoke.

AN: I got the beginning dialogue straight from MK 1 chapter 8. As much as I love Bi-Han, that part made me sad. Tomas doesn't to be treated like that. Not proof read.

Notes: Female Reader

The four of you are awaiting orders from Lord Liu Kang. Bi-Han is pacing around while Tomas is on a bench and Kuai Liang sitting on top of it, but his feet are resting on the cushion part. You are sitting on the floor in front of the bench.

“How long are we expected to linger?”

“Patience, Bi-Han. There are many demands on Liu Kang’s attention.”

“Were he here, Father would advise us to wait without protest.”

You silently nod in agreement with Tomas’ words about the previous Grandmaster.

“But now he is gone and I am Grandmaster.”

“His teachings did not pass with him. They should still guide us.”

You decided for right now it would be best to stay silent. At the moment you didn’t really have anything to say that would contribute to the brother’s conversation. You and Tomas share a small look of an exchange with a little smile to share as well. After the brief moment you two share, you focus your attention back to your Grandmaster.

“Guide us, Yes. Shackle us, no”

“We can’t abandon tradition.”

“MInd your place, Tomas. Father may have taken you in, made you one of us…”

“...but your blood will never be Lin Kuei.”

When those words left Bi-Han’s mouth you practically flew up from your spot you were sitting.

“What in the actual hell, Bi-Han?? Tomas may not have the blood of Lin Kuei, but he is still Lin Kuei nonetheless!!” You get up in the man’s face vaguely remembering an off comment Johnny told you about how bad his breath is, and man you wish you had a breath mint to give the cryomancer at this moment.

Your little outburst towards your Grandmaster was shocking to the three. Bi-Han growls at you. “Watch what you say. I am your Grandmaster. Do not disappoint your ancestors with your foolish actions.”

“Brother! Leave her out of this! We can also discuss this at another time. When it is more… appropriate timing…” Kuai Liang is trying to defuse the commotion that is now occurring with his older brother’s comments.

“He started it, Kuai! He always belittles Tomas! It’s not fair! Tomas works just as hard as us, and all Bi-Han does is say shit like ‘Grrrr! I’m the Grandmaster, and I’m also grumpy! And I hate my BROTHER Tomas SO MUCH!!” You start yelling and attempt an impression of how you hear Bi-Han.

Kuai Liang just face palms at your little performance. He thinks to himself you just got yourself added to Bi-Han’s shitlist. Bi-Han is fuming at your words; he is beyond pissed now. Tomas is shocked at your outburst. Eyes wide open, and mouth slightly gaped. He’s not used to people defending him like this. The more he thinks about this a light pink appears to blossom upon his cheeks.

An awkward “Ahem” is heard. The four turn their heads to see two of Earthrealm’s champions, Raiden and Kung Lao. Raiden just stands there, “Lord Liu Kang can see you now.” Kung Lao is attempting to hide his laughter. Your guess is they heard the argument that was just happening. Maybe this was their way to help de-escalate things.

Bi-Han glares, it starts with looking at you, and then it moves to land on Raiden. “It is about time.” You are definitely on his shitlist now, but it was worth it. To defend Tomas from the toxic behavior of his oldest brother. You and Tomas share a glance, and you know this is something that you both will discuss after this mission. As you all walk to meet Lord Liu Kang you wonder how much of a living cold hell your life will become now.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagine #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #smoke x reader #mk smoke

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snitchcrimsonwrites · 19 days

Text

Maybe pt. 3

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Just some fluff before we jump into some more story.

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here

Part 6 Here

The atmosphere in Vault 33 was buzzing. It’s not every day the Vault gets to throw a wedding celebration, let alone one for the Overseerer’s daughter. The wedding date was still a few days away, but there were still so many preparations to complete, and everyone had their part to play. Food was to be catered, decorations were to be made, and wedding gifts for the newlyweds were to be collected. The wedding committee had their hands full, organizing a successful event to unite two lives and the communities of two vaults. Even with the added workload and stress of pulling an event like this together, you couldn’t deny the positive impact the upcoming nuptials had on everyone in Vault 33. Weddings do that. All types of love are in the air whenever there’s a wedding. Not just the romantic love of the bride and the groom but also the outpouring of love from the friends, family, and community surrounding those getting married. And it’s contagious. Even Norm was wearing a rare smile these days, and while, yes, part of the reason for that smile related to his sister’s wedding day, he had another reason to be happy.

His second chance performance review was canceled; thank you, Lucy!

Well, that and the fact that he and (Y/N) were back on speaking terms. Over the last week, the two met up for the occasional lunch break or an evening walk through the corridors of Vault 33, attempting to catch up on the elements of friendship during their years apart.

Conversations started with informing the other of what they’d been up to over their time apart, though they were unsurprisingly short since they still lived quarantined together in the same four walls. She was already aware of his series of demotions, and he was already poking fun at her decision to join the Vault 33 book club. Norm was surprised at how quickly any lingering awkwardness dissipated, and they fell into a routine. It was as though no time had passed when it came to their friendship; they picked up right where they left off.

---------------------

Norm was running late. He hurried down the systems corridor toward the main atrium. The light reflecting down the corridor walls from the Vault’s telesonic projector indicated he was close. Soon, he’d be greeted with the simulated sights and sounds of the Nebraskan countryside along the Vault walls. Entering the atrium, he squinted, adjusting to the artificial sunlight, and panned the room, looking for a familiar face. He didn’t see you in the main square, but he had a good idea of another place to look.

He followed the main square, then hung a left along the rows of corn stalks and towards one of the back walls of the Vault atrium. There you were, sitting on the ground cross-legged among the corn stalks, book in hand. Norm approached slowly, trying not to startle you, and joined you on the ground, avoiding the dirt piles as best he could.

“You know there are perfectly good tables back there, right?”

“Well aware,” you state, not fully acknowledging his presence yet. You pull yourself from the book, close your eyes, and raise your head towards the fake sun, basking it in. “But there’s something about finding a spot on the ground—almost enough to make you think you’re outside.”

Norm copies your movement, closing his eyes and trying to feel any sensation on his skin. He vaguely remembers feeling the warmth from the simulated sun on his skin—a moment from childhood. The memory itself is fuzzy, lacking details, but the sensation—it felt so real. It’s incredible how well your brain can manipulate your senses, tricking you into believing you experienced the real deal. He’s sure that’s what he’s recalling. His brain’s simulated response to what the sun should feel like. He opens his eyes, slightly disappointed.

Not wanting to dwell on his disappointment, he changes the subject, “What are you reading?”

You open your eyes and pass him the novel; it’s your favorite classic. “I’m circling back through the classics' currently.”

Norm takes the book as you hand it to him and raises an eyebrow at you. “What do you mean circling back through?”

You blush, the wave of embarrassment rising, coloring your cheeks. “Well…I’ve kind of, sort of read through all the books available in the Vault’s library.”

“You're sick,” he chuckles. “How on Earth is that even possible? There's no way you’re human.”

You snatch the copy of your favorite novel back from him, trying to hide how red you’ve gotten. “It’s not like we’ve got much else going on down here. Plenty of time on our hands.”

Now it’s your turn to change the subject. “Lucy, getting excited for the big day?”

“That’s an understatement. It’s almost exclusively been the only topic of conversation in the MacLean household for weeks. Dad’s been discussing remodeling her room once she moves out to make space for his pre-war Western movie memorabilia.”

“What is it about dads and those Western movies? Mine had that obsession, too. He couldn’t get enough of that one cowboy actor. What was his name?”

“Howard.”

“Yes, him and power armor models. I swear it's a collective special interest that bonds to their DNA when you have a kid.”

“Yeah, I think mine was like that pre Lucy and I. I’m just excited to move on to something, ANYTHING else.” As he finishes, his smile gives him away. You can see he’s genuinely happy for his older sister.

“I’m impressed with anyone willing to marry someone they’ve never met; I’d be too afraid to risk it. That’s too much commitment sight-unseen.”

“We’re probably not the best subjects for that type of experiment. You barely like anyone.”

“I don’t mind you.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm on your Pip-Boy sounds.

“Shit, I’m going to be late to book club.”

“I seriously can’t believe you joined a book club. A bunch of pretentious assholes in a room trying to come up with hot takes on hundred-year-old books to one-up each other. Just skip it. No one will notice if you miss one night.”

“I can’t really skip when I’m hosting.”

“Hosting book club? Now I seriously don’t know who you are.” Norm jokes. “How does Ms. Anti-Social get roped into hosting a social gathering?”

You shrug, beginning to stand. “When you host, you get to pick the book, and what could be more fun than picking the most ambiguous novel I could think of for a group that needs the correct interpretation?”

Norm mouths “Evil” back at you as you head off to your meeting.

You couldn't wait to give him the play-by-play tomorrow.

#norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #norm maclean x oc #fallout tv series

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Homecoming - DBF!Joel x Female Reader

It's been years since you moved away from home but you never stopped wishing your dad's best friend Joel Miller saw you as something more. Request from @reds-ramblings!

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, legal age gap (Joel is 40 you are 26), SMUTTTTTTT oral (f receiving), p in v sex, one shot. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only!

Length: 4.4k (sorry guys, I got carried away)

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom. It was still that popcorn shit. Your mom had redone most of the house since you’d moved out but your room was still intact. Still had the movie posters, the caricatures of you with your best friends from trips to Six Flags in the summer, the mountain of stuffed animals that were covered in a fine layer of dust in a hammock that hung from the ceiling.

It was a little like being in a museum, relics of who you’d been a decade ago when you’d first moved into this house in the Austin suburbs with your parents. You hadn’t known how to drive yet when you moved in here. You were a different person now. A different person who lived in Chicago and had a job you loved and still came running home to your childhood bedroom when shit got hard.

You sighed, bouncing a tennis ball off the popcorn ceiling.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, getting up and rifling through your suitcase.

Your parents weren’t home. They wouldn’t be for a few more days - too busy lying on a beach in Maui - so you had the place to yourself. At least there was the pool.

You found the sluttiest bikini you had since you’d be too embarrassed to wear it around your parents anyway but dammit you’d bought the stupid thing so you were going to wear it. You slid into it, admiring yourself in the mirror for a second. This would have looked way better on a beach in the Caribbean. This was a swim suit meant to make a man fuck you in the ocean. It was not a swim suit meant to be worn in your parents’ pool. But you needed something to feel good about.

You put your earbuds in and pulled up your favorite playlist, dancing a little as you put on the gauzy white coverup, straw hat and flip flops before heading downstairs.

It was almost like the shuffle mode on your playlist was reading your mind. Lizzo came on just as you made it to the kitchen and you turned it up as loud as you couldn’t without fully deafening yourself.

“Why men great ’til they gotta be great?” You more yelled it than sang it, grabbing the tortilla chips and salsa you’d picked up on your way to the house the day before. You went into the freezer next, grabbing the frozen margarita pouch.

“You coulda had a bad bitch, noncommittal,” you nudged the drawer closed with your leg. “Help you…HOLY SHIT.”

You almost leapt out of your skin, dropping the plastic container of salsa and the bag of margarita to the tile floor. You clutched your heart that felt like it was threatening to burst out of your chest with one hand and tore your earbuds out with the other.

Joel Miller was leaning against the counter, watching you and smiling, arms crossed over his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” You panted, dropping the earbuds to the counter before leaning against it to keep from falling over. “What the fuck, man?”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he smiled a little wider. “You were puttin’ on a great show…”

“Ha ha,” you glared at him.

“No, really, stadium quality performance there, Princess,” he said. “I’d buy tickets…”

You rolled your eyes before bending over and picking up the mercifully still intact containers of salsa and frozen margarita, trying to not think about the fact that you were in the sluttiest bikini you’d ever owned in front of Joel fucking Miller. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend. Joel Miller, guy who lived across the street. Joel Miller, man you’d basically been in love with since you were 16 years old.

How was it that he’d gotten better looking? There should be limits on this shit, men who were as gorgeous as Joel Miller shouldn’t be allowed to get hotter as they aged. His graying hair made him look experienced, wiser somehow. The wrinkles around his eyes made his already gorgeous chocolate brown gaze look softer and sweeter. It was a dangerous combination.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, heart rate returning to normal. Or, normal for when Joel was in your immediate vicinity, anyway.

“Your dad told me I could borrow a ladder,” he shrugged. “Said it was in the shed out back. Told me to let myself in. DIdn’t mention you’d be here. Promise I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“What kind of contractor doesn’t have a ladder?” You frowned. “Sounds like you’re falling down on the job, Miller.”

“I don’t have it at my house because I left it on a job, Princess,” he stepped closer, smile shifting to more of a cocky smirk. “But needed one at home and didn’t really feel like drivin’ clear across Austin to pick it up.

“But that’s beside the point, what are you doing here?” He asked. “Ain’t you some big time city girl now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just decided to come home for a visit,” you replied.

“While your parents are on vacation,” he said, skeptical. You narrowed your eyes at him. “C’mon, what’s goin’ on.”

You sighed and groaned a little.

“I was supposed to be in The Bahamas this week,” you said. “Booked it a few months back.”

“So why aren’t you in The Bahamas this week?” He asked after you were silent for a minute. You rapped your fingers on the counter, nails clacking on the granite.

“I got dumped, alright?” You groaned. “It was supposed to be a trip with my now ex for our one year anniversary but we broke up a month ago and now he’s in The Bahamas with Laurel from accounting.”

“Shit,” Joel’s face fell a little. “I’m sorry that…”

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “I wasn’t really that into him, honestly. I was surprised we lasted as long as we did. But I wasn’t about to sit in Chicago in April when I’d already bought enough bikinis to last a week on the beach. And hey at least there’s a fucking pool and it’s above freezing here.”

When you mentioned the bikinis, his eyes finally left your face, quickly trailing up and down your body before looking back at your face.

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot, Princess,” he said. “Promise there are better ones out there than that and lord knows you deserve better.”

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Anyway, you’re here for a ladder, not to keep me company.”

“Depends,” he nodded at the margarita pouch. “Got another one of those?”

You scoffed.

“C’mon,” you went into the freezer and grabbed another pouch. “The hell do you take me for?”

You poured the drinks into the plastic margarita glasses your mom had bought for a party when you were a teenager and handed one to Joel before you both went outside. Joel sat on a lounge chair but you set your glass down on the edge of the pool, stepped out of your flip flops and draped your coverup on a chair next to him.

“You’re getting in?” He asked. “Thought that was more of a… layin’ around swim suit thing you girls like to wear.”

“Didn’t fly across the country to not get the suit wet,” you glanced over your shoulder at him. His eyes immediately rose from your ass to your face as you did. “You’re welcome to join me.”

You jumped in the water, sinking down to the bottom, water so cold that it made your nipples harden and press against the thin fabric of the suit. You swam back to the surface and to the edge of the pool, grabbing your margarita. Joel was watching you.

“You coming in or not?” You teased.

“Don’t think I feel like goin’ and getting changed,” he said.

“Never said you had to,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Come on. You saw me dancing around my parents kitchen and heard my sob story. I think I can see you in your underwear.”

He looked away from you for a moment, a twitch in his jaw, before he shook his head for a moment.

“Alright, Princess,” he stood up and pulled off his shirt in one fluid movement. You were trying not to stare. It’s not like you’d never seen him without a shirt before. He’d been swimming at your house with your parents before. He took his shirt off when mowing the lawn and you’d peer through your window and watch him when you were a teenager. But this was the first time he’d taken his shirt off because you wanted him to and that fact almost made his biceps seem more sculpted, his chest more beautiful. His hands went to his jeans as he stepped out of his boots. He unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, starting to pull the denim down. “Your wish, my command.”

“That is how I like it,” you took another drink.

He stripped out of his jeans and down to his black boxer briefs. You resisted the urge to lick your lips at the sight of him, just a thin layer of fabric covering his thick, long cock.

You shook yourself mentally. Yes, you’d had a crush on Joel for 10 years. Yes, you wanted him to fuck you six ways from Sunday. Yes, it looked like his cock would be far and away the largest you’d ever had. But he was your dad’s best friend and 14 years older than you. His daughter was closer to your age than he was. Nothing was going to happen.

He jumped in the water, purposely landing close enough to you to splash you with it and you laughed, wiping the chlorinated water from your eyes.

“Fuck that’s cold,” he said when he came up. “Feelin’ like you got me in here under false pretenses…”

You swam for a bit, catching up on life, drinking your margaritas. Joel told you about Sarah, how she was doing at A&M and about one client he’d been stuck with who kept changing shit half way through the project.

“Swear to God the next time this woman changes her tile, I’m driving off a fuckin’ bridge,” he said.

You told him about your life in Chicago. The promotion you’d just gotten at work, the fact that you’d become enough of a regular at the bar down the street from your apartment that the bartenders knew you now.

You’d been in the water long enough that your drinks were long empty and your fingertips were starting to prune, leaning against the edge of the pool with your arms propped on the ledge, close enough that your elbows touched.

Joel’s eyes ran over you, from your hairline to your face to your throat to your chest. Your nipples were still peaked against your suit and your wet hair clung to your neck.

“What?” You asked, smiling a little.

“Any plans later?” He asked. “Can’t have you sittin’ at home all by your lonesome when you were supposed to be havin’ a good time this week.”

“Offering to show me a good time?” You teased.

“Don’t tell your dad that,” he teased back. “But I’m going out with some of Tommy’s friends later. Think you’d have fun if you wanted to come along. Just some drinking, music, dancing. Usual shit. Assuming you don’t have plans with any old friends from school or somethin’.”

“Ah yes, my vibrant social life in high school,” you said, smirking a little.

You’d been a wallflower before you went to college. You hadn’t fit in well with your classmates, you hadn’t really grown into your body yet - all awkward limbs and unruly hair. College had been your chance to reinvent yourself and you’d leaned into it. You still remembered the first time you came home on break from school your freshman year.

You and your roommate, Carolyn, had become fast friends and she was easily the most fashionable person you’d ever met. She’d helped you come into your own in your first semester away and you’d basically replaced every item of clothing in your closet with finds from every thrift store within a 20 mile radius of Northwestern. You’d changed your hair, figured out that blue eyeshadow was NOT your thing and just started feeling more confident.

That Christmas break, you had just grabbed a package off the porch for your mom and were carrying it around to the garage to stash where your dad wouldn’t find it when Joel stopped you.

“Hey,” he said, sounding a bit defensive as he jogged over to you. “That yours?”

You stopped, frowning, before turning to face him. His eyes went wide.

“I mean, it’s my mom’s…”

“Shit, I’m sorry Princess,” he said, looking you up and down. “Didn’t even recognize you! Must be liking Chicago…”

You definitely liked your new sense of style even more after that.

“I’d be down to go out,” you said. “Better than playing catch against my ceiling all night.”

“Pick you up in two hours?” He said. “We’ll hit the town.”

Once Joel left with the ladder, you focused on calming yourself down while getting ready to go.

Yes, it was Joel. Yes, he might have checked you out a bit in the pool. Yes, you’d do more than you were really comfortable admitting to get him into bed. But he was still Joel, your neighbor and your dad’s best friend. That made him pretty much off limits.

Right?

You’d brought a few of the dresses you’d bought for The Bahamas and you slipped into the one that hugged your curves in just the right way. Just in case.

“Shit, Princess,” Joel said when you answered the door. “Think you might be a bit overdressed for this crowd.”

“I can change,” you frowned.

“No!” He said quickly. Then cleared his throat. “No, don’t… Don’t worry about it.”

Joel drove you to a bar with live music and a table full of people he seemed to know about half of. Tommy, his brother, clapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear that made Joel glare at him.

He’d been right, though, it was fun. You stuck close to Joel at first, bodies near enough that your arm would brush his chest if you picked up your beer. But then one of Tommy’s friends asked you to dance and pulled you onto the dance floor. His name was Jim and you were pretty sure he was closer to Joel’s age than Tommy’s. His hands slid down your body, pulling your hips against his as you moved with him. Joel’s eyes were on you the whole time.

You only danced with Jim for a song and a half before Joel appeared over his shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” He asked, giving Jim a look that made it seem like he didn’t have a lot of other options. Jim stepped back just as the music started to shift to something a bit slower. Joel took one of your hands in his and slipped the other around to your back, his fingers splayed wide against you, pulling you against him.

“DIdn’t take you for the dancing type,” you smiled a little as you started to sway.

“M’not,” he said. “Not usually, anyway.”

“Really?” You teased. “So I’m a special case, hm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “Can’t let my best friend’s little girl go runnin’ around with some old man.”

“But what if I like old men?” You asked.

“Should pick a better one than Jim then,” he replied.

“Never said I liked Jim,” you said. “Not my type.”

“What is your type?” He asked, his eyes drifting over your face to your neck to your breasts.

You swallowed, hard.

“Contractors.”

He ground his teeth for a moment before stepping back from you and leaving the bar.

“Shit,” you muttered, trailing behind him to the parking lot.

“Joel!” You called out to him. “Wait!”

He stopped and turned to face you.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’ in there,” he said. “So just give me some space, OK?”

“I know perfectly well what I was saying,” you said.

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t. You shouldn’t go around sayin’ shit like that…”

“Oh, so you wanted me to lie then?” You asked.

“Princess,” there was a warning in his voice. “You don’t want to go here.”

“Yes, I do,” you said. “It’s not like I’m some little kid, Joel, I’m 26 years old…”

“That’s too damn young,” he snapped.

“It’s not like I don’t know what I want,” you replied.

“You’re my best friend’s daughter,” he said.

“So?”

“Get in the truck,” he growled. You frowned. “Want to talk about this like adults? Get in the damn truck.”

You hesitated for a moment before you obeyed.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’,” he said again after he’d been driving for a few minutes.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” You asked, offended now. “That I just say shit I don’t mean with no understanding of the consequences?”

“No, I think you’re young,” he snapped. “Too young to be even joking about getting involved with someone closer to your dad’s age than yours.”

“Wasn’t joking,” you said defiantly. He glanced over at you before looking back to the road.

“Princess,” he said, the warning tone back in his voice.

“Joel.”

He glared at you.

“We’re not doin’ anything,” he said. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

You stared out the window, the ache between your thighs warring with the hurt in your chest.

He dropped you at your door and you practically jumped out of the truck, not saying a word. He sighed and followed you, catching you as you were trying to unlock the door without crying. It was hard not feeling stung by it. Yes, he was your dad’s best friend. Yes, he probably had better options. Yes, there were plenty of reasons why you shouldn’t fuck or anything more. But this rejection hurt somehow more than your ex dumping you for fucking Laurel in accounting.

“Princess,” he said quietly.

“Look it’s fine if you’re not interested,” you said, sniffing a little. “But don’t act like you’re doing it for my benefit. It’s shitty.”

“Not…” he touched your shoulder, making you turn around. “You really think I’m not fuckin’ interested?”

You shrugged.

“How the fuck would I not be interested?” He asked. “Jesus Christ, spent half the goddamn afternoon thinkin’ about baseball stats so I wouldn’t get a hard on in your fuckin’ pool. All I am is interested.”

“Interested in what?”

“Interested in fucking you until you can’t see straight,” he said. “Interested in makin’ you cum so much the only thing you remember is my goddamn name. Interested in eating your pussy til I drown in ya. Interested in your dad punching me in the fuckin’ face over you because I’m too old for you but I don’t give a shit, bein’ with you is worth it. I’m interested.”

He stepped closer to you, your back against the door.

“You should come inside then,” you breathed.

He kissed you then, pressing his body against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You could feel him through his jeans, thicker and longer than what you saw in the pool before. You fumbled with the door until it opened, both of you spilling into your parents’ entryway.

You didn’t make it past the living room.

Joel slid the straps of your dress down your arms and you pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor. You backed up until you were against the arm of the couch, his hands ranging over your skin. He pushed the dress lower until it was over your hips and it fell to the floor. You were just in your panties and your shoes when he nudged you down onto the arm of the couch.

He kissed down your body, over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach until he reached the top of your panties. He guided your hips off the arm of the couch for a moment and slid your underwear down and cast them aside before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs.

“Fucking hell you’ve got a pretty pussy,” he reached out and ran his thumb over your slit, pressing down a little when he reached your clit, making your back arch as you moaned. “Can’t wait to taste you, Princess.”

He ran his tongue over you, delicately pressing the tip into your folds. One of his hands slid up your body to your chest, gently pushing you back until you were lying on the couch as his mouth worked your slit.

“Fuckin’ perfect view,” he said before thrusting his tongue into you. You groaned, rocking your hips against his face, his nose pressing into your clit as you did. You could see his eyes devouring the rest of you the way his mouth was devouring your pussy, like there was no part of him that could get enough of you.

His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you open wider so his tongue could get deeper, your core tightening around him. Just as you were getting close, he slid his tongue from you, making you whimper as he kissed up your slit to your clit. He took the delicate nub into his mouth, licking and sucking as he thrust two fingers into your dripping pussy, making you gasp and your hips stutter.

“Good girl,” he pulled his mouth away from you just enough to praise you. His fingers pressed deep, hooking into you and finding the spot inside you that made you gasp. “Want you to cum for me baby, don’t be shy now.”

He went back to sucking, his tongue unrelenting, his eyes drinking you in. Your hand flew to the cushions of the couch and you gasped as you came, moaning his name.

His mouth stayed on you until your body stopped pulsing, his fingers gently working you through your orgasm. He almost reluctantly pulled himself from you and licked his lips as he stood, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, stripping off the last of his clothes as you came down from your orgasm. He reached out and took your hand, pulling you back upright on the arm of the couch.

Joel kissed you again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. He guided your legs around his waist and slid his hands below your thighs, picking you up and making you gasp.

He didn’t take you far, only to the couch. He sat down, making you kneel on his lap as he reached between your legs and started stroking himself, close enough to you that his knuckles brushed your overwrought slit as he did. You looked down between you, the first chance you really had to see his cock.

Your eyes went a little wide at the sight of it. He was so thick and long with a slight curve, you were almost afraid he wouldn’t fit.

“Take it at your own pace, Baby,” he said, all but reading your mind. “M’not in a rush.”

He adjusted his cock a bit, making it so the edge of him rubbed your clit as he worked himself. The contact made you needy, a sharp ache growing in you, a feeling deep inside that you knew you couldn’t reach but he could.

You rose up on your knees, your hands on his shoulders, and he rubbed his thick head against your slit, your wetness spilling over him as he worked it lower down his shaft, coating himself in you.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned, lining his head up with your entrance.

“All for you,” you breathed, lowering yourself onto him.

You moaned at the intrusion as you pressed him into you, a spark of pain with the pleasure as he stretched you.

“Fuck Baby,” he groaned, his hands going to your hips, guiding you down over him as you sank lower onto him. “Fuck, so tight, so goddamn…”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, watching him start to lose himself in your body, his head falling back, eyes closing, fingertips sinking into your flesh. Your body opened for him, his cock parting your inner walls and stretching you. You groaned when you finally took all of him, his head pressed flush against your back wall as his hips ground against your own.

“Good girl,” he gasped it out, his hands traveling up from your hips to your waist. “Knew you could take it all…”

You started working over him, rising and falling on his cock, working your hips down against your own. His hands slipped up your back as he looked up at you, kissing your neck, your chest, trailing his tongue along the swell of your breasts.

Joel pressed you close to him before he thrust deep into you and shifted, laying you down below him on the couch and sinking somehow deeper into you, making you moan.

He started fucking into you harder and faster then, angling your hips so your clit was pressed against him with every stroke.

“Fuck, Joel,” you groaned, pressing yourself against him, wanting to feel him everywhere you could. “Harder… need more…”

He groaned.

“Fucking perfect,” he buried his face in your neck as he started working you harder, faster. “You’re goddamn perfect…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming around him, your pussy gripping him so tight it almost hurt to hold him that way. He fucked you through your orgasm, his breathing faster, his kiss sloppy.

The second your walls stopped fluttering around him, he pulled out of you. He sat back and fisted his cock.

“Where?” He said quickly.

“My clit,” you panted.

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, jerking his cock just twice before pressing the tip against your swollen nub and spilling his warmth over you, making your ultra sensitive pussy shudder again. He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both caught your breath.

“Please say you’ll visit more,” he said, not moving from on top of you.

“Think I’ll be visiting a lot more.”

A/N: So this was my first request and my first one shot! I am NOT good at keeping things brief lol so I appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you for reading! Love ya!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #oneshot

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wavypotatochips · 1 year

Note

and for the mbappe recognition, can I request kylian's brother ethan feeling upset bc of how media pressures him to be like his older brother but he doesn't want to worry his family so he keeps it a secret, for some reason he feels like he can open up to kylian's gf and she gives him a pep talk saying he's gonna make his own legacy and accidentally kylian overhears it and feels so happy his little brother trusts her and how nice she is to him that he falls in love with her even more. u can give it ur own spin, this is just an idea, thank u in advance 💓

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

Word Count : 1.5k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: SLAAAAAY MORE MBAPPE RECOGNITION!!! Of course I don't mind writing about anyone, but more Neymar and Mbappe please c; teehee Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

Kylian asked you earlier in the day if you would mind picking up his younger brother from futebal practice because he wouldn't be able to, and of course you didn't mind. When it was time to pick him up from futebal practice, you did so and brought him home. Considering how much Ethan loved to stay to himself, you did not give his abnormally quiet conduct much attention, but you could still sense something was off. Ethan is currently in the living room scrolling through his phone as you are currently preparing dinner.

Ethan fiddles with his hair as he lets out another sigh seeing a sports channel talk about his performances and comparing him to his brother once more. Ethan is proud of his brother and will always be his number 1 supporter, but he hates how he always gets compared to Kylian. He especially hates when grown men on the sports channel talk about how he isn't good and he would never be like his brother. He tries his hardest to ignore the harsh criticism, but when you constantly hear about it- it tends to build up until you cannot take it anymore. This has been going on for a while now, and the one time he tried to talk to one of his teammates who he considered a best friend, he told him to just ‘try and brush it off’ as the media will always be negative. Well, he tried to listen to his best friend but as a 16 year old, it's not surprising that it can not simply be ignored when it feels as if the public only likes you because they think they have the potential to see your brother. He felt as if when people look at him, all they think about is Kylian Mbappe, not Ethan Mbappe. He begins to contemplate if he should talk to you or not because he does not want to worry you, but he knew you were someone he could rely on. You and his brother have been dating for 3 years now, and anytime there was a minor convince- you always helped him no matter what. He shuts off his phone, deciding it is best to talk to you and begins to make his way into the kitchen.

You were preparing dinner as he was debating what to do. You put on some music and begin to prep your ingredients, carefully chopping and measuring everything. The kitchen smells amazing as you sauté garlic and onions in olive oil, adding in diced tomatoes and a sprinkle of spices.

Next, you start on the main course. You're making grilled chicken marinated in a savory mixture of soy sauce, honey, and ginger. You pat the chicken dry and place it on the grill, watching as it sizzles and cooks to perfection. While the chicken is cooking, you start on the side dish. You're making roasted sweet potatoes with a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar. You slice the sweet potatoes into thin rounds, toss them in a mixture of spices and oil, and place them in the oven to bake.

You can hear Ethan's footsteps when he enters the kitchen, indicating that the music was not played at an excessive volume. "It smells nice," he says as he takes a seat on the bar stool. You smile hearing his compliment, "I'm making chicken and roasted potatoes with asparagus for us! Although your brother is supposed to arrive home later than expected, I don't think we should go hungry until then, am I right?," you chuckle. He scratches the side of his head and nods in agreement before saying, "Hey ummm... Can we talk for a moment, Y/N.... ," he murmurs the final phrase, "There's been something that just has been bothering me."

"Of course," you say, sensing that he wants to open up to you about something personal.

"It's just that...I feel like I'm always being compared to Kylian, you know? Everyone's always asking me if I'm going to be as good as him or just the media constantly nagging my every move. If I mess up just once I just get so much hate, and it's like...I don't know if I can live up to that."

You nod sympathetically. "I can imagine that's a lot of pressure. But you don't have to be Kylian, you know? You can be your own player."

"But that's the thing," Ethan says, looking frustrated. "I want to be my own player, but it feels like everyone's always talking about how I compare to him. Even I do it to myself sometimes."

"Well, you're not alone," you say, trying to reassure him. "Lots of people compare themselves to others, but it's not always a helpful way to think. You're talented in your own right, and you don't have to measure up to anyone else's standards.”

Ethan seems to relax a little, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it's hard not to think about it when it's all people ever talk about."

"I get that," you say as you walk over to grab two plates from the counter. "But you should focus on your own progress and improvement, not what other people think or say. And even though you're young, you have such a huge opportunity to keep on learning and growing as a player. You have so much potential and you're constantly improving."

"But I keep making mistakes," he says with a sigh as he watches you beginning to prep the plates.

"Mistakes are a part of learning.You're going to make mistakes, but that doesn't mean you're not good enough. It means you're growing and learning. You have so much potential, and I believe in you. Just keep practicing, keep pushing yourself, and don't worry about what anyone else thinks or says. You're doing great." You speak while you put food on both plates, along with a fork and a knife, on each plate.

He stays quiet for a moment as he takes in the words that you tell him. A small smile appears on his face, seeming to feel a little better. "Thanks. I guess I just need to work harder."

You take both plates and set them both on the kitchen island, moving one over to Ethan as you explain, "You don't need to work harder, you just need to believe in yourself."

"And if you're really upset about it, you can always talk to Kylian about it," you say as you start chopping the roasted chicken into smaller pieces. " We both know how unfavorable the media can be toward him, and I am not a futebol star like you, so my advice may not be the greatest."

Ethan looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess I could talk to him about it. Thanks for listening, though. I feel like I can trust you.” He takes a bite of the asparagus.

"Of course I'm always here if you need to talk! And even though I'm not the best futebol player, if you ever need someone to talk to or to practice with, I'm here for you. I mean who knows, maybe I'll just cross you up." You both laugh, knowing that you could definitely not do that.

When you two were eating the delicious supper you had prepared, neither of you realized that Kylian had arrived home earlier than intended and had heard all you said.

Kylian quietly opens the front door of his house and makes his way to the kitchen. As he approaches, he can hear the sound of your voice, and his younger brother's voice responding. Curiosity piqued, he peeks around the corner and sees you sitting with his brother, giving him some advice and offering some kind words. He doesn't want to interrupt, so he decides to listen in. As he hears you speak, he can't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for you. You have always been a kind and caring person, but to see you taking the time to give his brother such motivational words is truly inspiring. Kylian takes a step back and leans against the wall, listening in to the conversation. He hears you tell his brother that he's capable of anything he sets his mind to, that he has so much potential, and that he doesn't need to compare himself to anyone else. Kylian can see the look of appreciation on his brother's face, and he can feel his own love for you grow even stronger. He thinks about how lucky he is to have you in his life, and how grateful he is for all the times you have encouraged him and supported him. He thinks about how you have always been there for him, through thick and thin, and how you always believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself.

In that moment, Kylian knows that he's found someone truly special, someone who brings out the best in him and in those around her. He knows that he'll always be grateful for your love and support, and he can't wait to see where your journey together will take you two.

717 notes · View notes

itsprashimusic · 1 year

Text

Don't Let Me Down

Summary - You loved him, really. But in the end loving him was more like your poison than your antidote.

Pairings - ex!Harry Styles x singer!Reader

Warnings - suicidal thoughts, mentions of wanting to die, ANGST, failed relationship, cuss words, using a real-life singer's songs for this fic, death of parents, absent partner, Harry is an asshole at the end (he threw things at reader), not entirely proofread Happy reading<3

Word Count - 4.5k

A/N - reader is female but can also be read as gender neutral. suicidal part will be labeled with (💔) for those who want to skip it.

flashbacks are in italics

also please reblog this, i spent a lot of time on it and reblogging it with tags would really mean a lot to me. love you❤️

You were getting ready for you first live concert in months. The familiar rush of adrenaline was coursing through your body. The type that only comes when you are performing. This was probably one of the best parts of your job as a singer. The better parts are probably the free items people give you just because you are a celebrity. The bad worse parts are definitely the paparazzi and publicity of everything in and about your life.

Your fans were wanting more music, and so that is what you gave them. A few months earlier you released an album. A lot of fans were expecting maybe some love songs surrounding your rumored relationship with famed singer and actor, Harry Styles.

You kept your personal life hidden from public view. But still they always were trying to guess who the current 'man in your claws' was. This time it was Harry Styles, but it was true. You and Harry had been dating for nearly 3 years.

Key word: had

You both had broken up. You weren't sure who broke up with who, but one thing was clear, it was not mutual. It was messy, very messy. Your house looked like a tornado went through it twice and again. Things were thrown, hurtful false accusations were thrown around, when you called him out on his bullshit, he just gave you another lame excuse as to how it was your fault for that specific flaw of his, you get the idea it was just a bad break up.

Fans around the world mourned your break-up, even though no official statement was given by either of you for almost 3 months post the breakup.

It has been nearly a year since your breakup, and you are still not over it. You admit it, you really did love Harry. He was the world for you. In the back of your closet sat a little box with a simple gold band resting in it, waiting to be worn by your life partner. You had a date planned out on which you would propose to him, two days after your break-up.

The part which hurt the most was knowing that he would've said yes, if things were fine in your relationship.

You stood in your dressing room. Being finished with your warmups, you stood, simply doing nothing. You just stared at yourself in the mirror. It was your supposed to be your largest tour. So of course, your nerves were on edge. You were standing in your dressing room, clutching the table with a grip so hard even you were surprised by it. You knew you were not doing well. A lot of the people around you even pointed out you looked unwell. You started feeling nauseous.

You were aware it was coming, the panic attack. Breathing became a bit difficult. You knew there was only one thing that would calm you down. A person to be more specific. Little did you know that this very person who could calm you down was rushing through the corridors, pushing people aside, just to find you. He knew that you would be having a panic attack.

Just as you were about to fall down, the door to your dressing room broke open revealing your boyfriend. He ran in enveloping you into a hug, hiding both your view of the others in your dressing room and their view of you, a gesture you were grateful for. One arm around your back, the other around the back of your head.

"It's ok darling, I'm here now." he said, his voice making things better, his deep soothing voice. He gestured for the others to leave the room so that the two of you would be alone. They left and shut the door giving the two of your privacy. You and Harry just stood there, him hugging you. You knew eventually you'd have to go out and perform, but for now just standing there felt right.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you could see the tears forming in your eyes. This would be your first concert in a long time, and you wanted it to be one of your best. You remember that one concert, it was the best. The type that everyone remembers, has countless edits of, even years later, that kind.

You looked at the clock. 10 minutes. You stared yourself down in the mirror. 9 minutes. You paced up and down doing your warmups. 8 minutes. You nervously sipped water from a bottle. 7 minutes. You were called outside to get your earpiece put in. 6 minutes. Your hands were getting sweaty, so you rubbed them against yourself. 5 minutes. The earpiece is in and working. 4 minutes. You could hear the crowd waiting for you to make your entrance. 3 minutes. You and your backup dancers huddled up together. 2 minutes. You made your way to where you were supposed to come out from. 1 minute. You clutched the tissue paper that you took from the dressing room. You clutched it hard, knowing that the last time you were up on stage it was someone's hand instead of a piece of somewhat soft paper. 10 seconds. You got your cue and could hear the intro music playing and the smoke machines going off. And from then on everything felt like a dream but even through the performances, your mind was somewhere else. Harry.

It was oddly quiet in his house. Normally there was some type of noise, whether it was the heater, AC or just some new air purifier he found and thought you might like. Your keys jingled while you were unlocking the front door to Harry's house. He said he would be meeting you here and so you didn't expect anyone to be at home.

But little did you know Harry was standing behind the door waiting for you to come. He saw your car pull up below the building. He had a surprise that he wanted to share with you first. Just as the door swinged open the lights turned on and a bunch of confetti flew out from somewhere. It startled you and you yelled. It took you a few seconds but then you saw Harry standing behind the door with a sheepish smile on his face. "Honey, what is all of this?" you asked him, coming closer to him. He pulled you in by your waist and said, "My new album's coming out on December 13th. I want you to be the first one to know."

"Wait, you have another album coming out? I didn't even know you were working on one!" you said. "Love, I never stop working. And to answer your question, yes, I have another album coming out. It is going to be called Fine Line."

That was all years ago. You remember that day clearly. It was the day you thought he was the one. So much followed after that. You walked him backwards onto the couch, hands tangled in his soft curly hair, lips on his. Just as he fell onto it his head made contact with some leftover food that was lying around. It was messy and cut your make out session short. But it was sweet. After getting him cleaned up you both sat cuddled on the couch and continued watching Modern Family.

"How are we doing Manchester!" you could hear the crowd cheering through your earpiece. You finished the intro and now you were starting to get more comfortable. "You know, it has been a long time since I have performed here. I just got the warmest welcome of all time, and it's time to return the favor," you say just as a short whistle tune is played over the speakers making the crowd go wild. "Usually, people love dancing around to my songs, but for this one we have to sit still," you say, teasing the crowd when another whistle tune is played.

The song got over and slowly transitioned into your other single.

Crashing, hit a wall Right now I need a miracle Hurry up now, I need a miracle

It was a really low time in your life. You had just lost your father to covid, and your mother wasn't doing so well. Add to that, your boyfriend was stuck in England and you in America. And the cherry on top, your name was plastered all over the news. People were bored and decided to pull and poke fun at you and some of your songs to keep them busy.

But it sucked for you. You were dangerously close to swallowing a bunch of tablets and it sucked. You were on your own, got calls daily from the nearby hospital about your mother's health, which was declining and going through grief over losing your father 1 month ago. All you needed right now was a miracle. Only a miracle could save you.

Stranded, reaching out I call your name, but you're not around I say your name, but you're not around

You had just received news from the hospital saying that your mother had not made it. Being in the hospital for so long had benefitted her but in the end, she contracted covid. You did not take the call well. The second the doctor said the words 'I'm sorry' you felt your heart split into tiny shards of glass which embedded themselves into every part of your body. You did cry, you didn't sob, not even a voice crack by the time you finished the conversation.

You were numb. The only person you wanted was him, but it was impossible to reach him when he was on an entirely different continent. You called him. You texted him. You messaged him. You emailed him, but there was no response. You even tried Instagram but that resulted in nothing. You attempted to write him a physical letter, but there was no response.

You had no idea why he was ignoring you. And it wasn't like you called him 3-4 times a day. You called him 15-20 times a day, you were surprised no one was responding.

Right when you needed him the most in your life he decided to shut you out. It hurt more than any break-up ever did. It was like you were stranded on an island with no way to escape. And the person you were trying to contact to come and save you was not there, almost as if they didn't exist.

I need you, I need you, I need you right now Yeah, I need you right now So don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down I think I'm losing my mind now

That was when things started going south in your and Harry's relationship. When he finally responded back, he was nothing like the man you fell in love with. Though you were so desperate and elated that he finally responded, you didn't even notice the shift in his attitude. By the time you realized how out-of-love he was with you, you were ready to propose to him.

It's in my head, darling, I hope That you'll be here, when I need you the most So don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down

For the longest time you kept hoping that at some point Harry would respond. That he would come and save you from the hell you were in. That he would be there to put an end to your turmoil. But no. He didn't show up (not like he even could), he didn't call, didn't text, nothing. You were left to pick up your own broken pieces.

Don't let me down

'Harry please pick up, please'

A sob racked through your body, making you tremble.

don't let me down

'Leave on seen, even that will do, just please say something, please'

You were getting hysterical, one sob after another, pleas falling from your lips like a prayer, repeating it to yourself again and again and again.

down

'Letter number 12 and I will keep writing more, just please respond'

Ink was dripping down the paper like the tears on your face it was mixed with. Your vision was a blur.

down

'Maybe today he will respond, it's been 6 months, things are starting to open up, maybe I can go see him'

With each passing day your delusional hope kept getting stronger. You never knew you had this much motivation in yourself.

'Please don't let me down…'

You whispered to yourself every day, almost as if he could hear you begging him to save you, to heal you, to do some thing.

(💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔)

Running out of time I really thought you were on my side But now there's nobody by my side

You sat on the kitchen floor, three different items sitting next to you, each one waiting to be used. You thought of the knife and how if you used that it would be painful, but then when you were found people would talk about how much pain you would have had to endure to die.

You looked at the rope and the ceiling fan and how that would also be painful but at the same time a bit faster. It would certainly be the most dramatic way to go, overrated but dramatic. When you would be found, someone would see you hanging off of the ceiling suspended in air in the middle of the room. Headlines would be something about you not dying of the virus but of ill mental health. Maybe it would raise awareness.

You looked at the bottle of meds. Certainly, the most painless way to go but when you would be found and it would be announced that you died of an overdose, people would think you were desperate to die. Well, they wouldn't be wrong, just that you don't want people to every think you stooped to that level.

Look at you, thinking about if people thought you stooped to the lowest level of suicide when suicide itself is low. But what other option is there really? You father died around 8 months ago, your mother followed him about 6 weeks after, your sibling was in the military with absolutely no way to contact them and your boyfriend was blatantly ignoring you while the media has been having fun with ruining your name and songs because they are bored at home.

It felt like a clock was ticking, like time was running out fast, but for what? Your death maybe, that would be satisfactory for you but this clock felt like it was ticking down to something else. 'Well, if there is something worse, let it happen'

(💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔)

"Don't let me down." you reached your high note with practiced ease. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as the crowd yelled loud enough that you could feel the sound waves. You kept going on for another 2 hours until the show ended, Harry not crossing your mind for the remainder of the show.

"Thank you once again for this lovely evening. Goodnight Manchester!"

You were in your hotel room, thinking back on your opening show. A smile played on your face when you thought back to fans' yell when the whistle tune played through the stadium speakers. But that smile left your face when you remembered who was on your mind as you sang the song which followed your opening track. Looking around you realized that the hotel room looked very similar to the room in which you felt your heart probably actually break.

You both had just returned from your best friend's movie premiere. It was late at night, which in your case meant getting a bit clingy and touchy. Nothing much, just hand holding, hugging, some neck kisses. You thought the night would be perfect, given that you were in the city of love itself. But little did you know that Cupid had a cruel joke in store for you.

You and Harry reached the hotel just fine. The night went better than imagined, it started in the bathroom and continued on in the bed until neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer. But then things changed in the morning. And it all started with, obviously, an article. This time the headlines were about the premiere last night.

When it comes to talking or interacting with people, you act the same with everyone and this included your best friend's co-star. He was a tall, brunette-dyed-blonde with 'sparkling silver eyes' (as the article put it). You were freaking out before the event and since you were meeting Harry at the location, you had no one to calm you down, so you decided to have a drink or two. By the time you reached the premiere, you were a bit tipsy. Harry knew this, of course, you tell him about almost everything that happens to you.

As you made your way around after walking the red carpet you were talking with people, socializing, networking. Oof, but the people who wrote this article only had pictures of you interacting with your friend's blonde co-star. You touched his arm at one point, were smiling widely when he cracked a joke and gave him a side hug when he wanted a picture with you. But this was enough evidence for people to think you were cheating on your boyfriend, someone who you almost worship.

Morning came, you and Harry were still acting touchy from the night before, you sitting in his lap while eating breakfast. You were having a shower when the room service came to pick up the dishes. Harry was mindlessly scrolling through his phone when he got a text from someone, an old friend who he started talking with and hanging out with recently. It was the article.

Now if Harry had seen this article 6 months ago, he would have probably just brushed it off as the media trying to stir up drama where there isn't. But sadly no. For the past 6 months you and Harry's relationship has been more than strained. There are constant fights, accusations about if the chicken got burned because of you or him and many cold shoulders. The second Harry read the article (and a few more covering the topic), he was hammering on the bathroom door demanding you come out immediately.

You had just finished your shower and had dried yourself when he was banging on the bathroom door. You opened the door to Harry angrier than he had ever been. He questioned you about the article. You told him you knew nothing of it.

"Baby, I swear I have no clue of what you are talking about."

"Then take the damn phone and read the bloody article!" he yelled, making you jump. You started realising that he wasn't just angry, he was furious.

As soon as you saw the pictures you realized what it was about. "Harry, you know me. I was not flirting with him, let alone cheating on you with him. The media just likes drumming up things that have nothing attached to it!" you saw, trying to get your clothes on.

He rolls his eyes, an unamused smile plastered on his face, "Do I know you, y/n? Hm, do I? Because over the past months it seems as if you are nothing like the person I met in 2018." "What do you mean 'nothing like the person I met'?! You are nothing like the person I FELL IN LOVE WITH!"

"Its just like you, always playing the victim. Instead of accepting that you're at fault you just find a way to blame it on me."

"Oh? Since when do you know so much about me? Didn't you just say I am nothing like the person I was before. And for your information, it's YOU who is at fault here. I have been the same person this whole time."

"So I'm the one at fault here? Huh, then tell me one thing that I have done wrong." By the time the argument reached here, you had all your clothes on, and Harry had grabbed a lamp out of frustration.

"With pleasure. Over the past 10 months whenever there was an article about me and someone else you would get jealous and think that I was cheating on you. You say that as if I don't worship the bloody ground you walk on, the water in which you bathe, the mirror in which you look at yourself. When you talk about something you like I give you my undivided attention. Even when I am exhausted, I still listen to you and respond with my 100% enthusiasm. Yet when I am excited about something you are either too busy, too tired or just plain uninterested. Oh and did I mention that for 8 months you did not answer one of my calls, any of my texts or emails?! That you were not there for me at a time when I needed you the most. That I nearly killed myself when you were not responding to me or the 15 letters I had sent to you. I called your mum, I called Gemma, I even resorted to Mitch and Sarah yet none of them could get me through to you because YOU TOLD THEM TO TELL ME YOU WERE UNAVAILABLE, WHY?! "

When you started talking about him ignoring you he rolled his eyes at you, folding his hands, gripping the lamp even harder. Ignoring everything you said before that he said, "Every single time I ask you to elaborate on what I did wrong, you bring that up. I have told you so many times that I told no one to tell you anything and for the last fucking time I did not receive any call/text/email or letter from you!"

When he screamed the last sentence he threw the lamp he was holding at you. It narrowly missed your head. The expression of shock was all over your face. You were no longer angry at him, you were scared of him.

"Harry what is wrong with you?! You threw a lamp at me." your chest was heaving, you looked at the lamp and back up at Harry. He took a step forward but you took a step back. "You keep saying that there is something wrong with me, that I am the one who changed, but please look at yourself first. Throwing things at people and not being bothered by it."

"You have no life outside of your work. You 'hangout with' Sarah and Mitch more often than you eat your food. Oh, and not to mention Leigha. You spend more time with her than with me, but do you see me complaining? There are more articles about you and her specifically. Yet you throw a fit about 1 article with me and a guy whose name I don't even remember."

"Don't you fucking dare say one more thing about her!" Harry moved closer towards you, picking up a vase at the same time. But you were more focused on calling him out to notice it. "And what about you and Louis? This actor might be a one time thing, but what about him huh? My old bandmate, you practically act like him with how much time you two spend together."

"Why? Do you care too much for her? Your 'old school friend'. And leave Louis out of this, I stopped hanging out with him long ago because you didn't like it. He was one of the only people who were there for me at my lowest, so shut your mouth about him. Plus, for your information, Leigha is nothing more than a self-obsessed man whore who was a nobody when you were in school." you were starting to get extremely riled up, your voice raising with each sentence. By the end of your sentence, you had pick up multiple items and left them all over the room, it was an anxious habit you formed. But you didn't stop there, you continued, "She failed senior year 3 times and got around the football team more often than other students studied. The only reason she attached herself to you was becau-" You were stopped by a vase hitting your head.

The anger on Harry's face could not be described. But the pain you felt could. Both the physical and emotional. The 3 inch cut on your forehead hurt really bad. You found it bleeding when you attempted to touch it. Emotionally, you felt betrayed. It didn't matter what Harry said next. You knew that this was the last straw, that it was the end.

Maybe if you kept your mouth shut there would have been a better chance he would have stayed with you. Maybe if you went ahead with your fatal plans those many months ago, you wouldn't have had to endure all this. But who are you kidding? The only reason you are alive right now is because of your sibling whose deployment ended. They flew from England and surprised you on a random Friday. After coming back they reminded you about how much you still have left to achieve, with your music, your future plans on a family, they reminded you of your fans and how they would feel, how your friends would feel, how they (your sibling) would feel, how Harry would feel. Though right now, you knew Harry would've felt nothing.

You only zoned back in when Harry was physically shaking you "Are you even listening to a fucking word I am saying?!"

"No, I am not. You just threw a vase at my head and are not even bothered about the bleeding cut on my forehead. You know what, I am done. I should killed myself a long time ago when I had the chance, because you don't love me anymore."

"Well, you got one thing correct; I don't love you anymore."

As soon as Harry said that you packed up your suitcase. Within three minutes you were out of the hotel on your way to the airport, taking the first flight back to Heathrow.

And during the flight, you kept rotating the box in your hands. The only which contained a simple gold band in it. As a tear streaked down your face you wiped it with the back of your hand. 'Why did I let him gaslight me for so many months?' you kept thinking this and many other questions relating to your relationship. 'It was so toxic, it was so unhealthy and moreover he was a dick.'

You sent a text to you sibling stating that you were on your way home. You even sent one to Louis. He was always there for you. Being your childhood friend and all. You both auditioned for the Xfactor at the same time. He got put in a boyband while you signed a contract with Simon separately. When your careers started, you both started hanging out less, but you remained good friends. The only One Direction member you met was Zayn and Niall, and that too on accident. The plane landed, and because no one was expecting you to be at the airport, there was no paparazzi for once. You quickly got a taxi and headed to his house after calling him.

You spent the entire night venting about your entire relationship.

a/n - this is probably one of the longest things i have ever written. let me know what you think. i hope i'll be able to write a part 2 to this, unless you feel i should leave it at this?

also i sincerely apologize to any Leighas out there.

Hope you enjoyed reading<3

#don't let me down fic #harry styles x reader #ex!harry styles x reader #harry styles x singer!reader #ex!harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles fanfiction #itsprashimusic #harry styles angst #not a one direction fic #louis tomlinson x reader

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andreafmn · 1 year

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12 Days of Ficmas ✵BONUS✵

Request by @lillybearblog: I hope this is ok to ask for! Basically it's your first time with Carlisle! (Can be human or new vampire I don't mind!) It is your first time with everything even kissing, hickeys, org*sm etc. You are super nervous and Carlisle is the consent king. Hes super gentle and walks you through everything. Can add things like pinning against the wall 😉

Word Count: 3.5K

Story Description: (Y/N) has always worked tirelessly for the Heaven’s Care Foundation to provide orphaned children and at-risk youth with a safe place to be. But working in a nonprofit is hard, and trying to give hundreds of children a Christmas to remember even more. Unless an anonymous donor changes everything.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI) read the request for everything else that's on here

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Female!Reader

A/N: i decided to use this request as a way to tie in the second part for the 12DoF one-shot for Carlisle. I really hope I did the request justice. I'm still very new to smut and it can be a bit hard for me to write it. Hope y'all like it!

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Christmas Miracle Come in Attractive Packages | Part 2

When the gala was finally over, and everyone was gone, (Y/N) looked for Carlisle Cullen once more. They had spent the time she had free talking and getting to know one another. As tension built between them, all she could think was how the night would end if he did wait for her,

She was sure he would have gone home by now, bored after hours of a lot of bureaucratic performances she had to do for the people that helped fund the organization.

But as she finally exited the doors into the freezing winter of New York, there he stood in all his splendor. In the midst of the white snow, his body and clothes blended into the scenery. He was as picturesque as the city.

“You waited,” she smiled catching up to him. “Thought you’d be home by now. It’s freezing out here.”

“Some things are worth the wait,” Carlisle responded, a grin stretching on his face. “Now, I don’t mean to sound too forward, but would you like to come over to my place? It’s very cold and my apartment is close by.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” (Y/N) tried her best to sound confident. But the reality was, she couldn’t help but let her fears get the best of her.

She was inexperienced in all matters of personal relations. When everyone around her was experimenting from high school all the way to college, she’d never done anything. Instead, she spent her time trying to finish her studies so she could get started on her dream – the foundation. Then when she started on it, she had no time for socializing outside of work.

So, her love life had been on the back burner her whole life. And now that a man had seemingly taken interest in her, she was not sure how to proceed. Thankfully, she was a quick study.

Before she could notice, Carlisle was parking the car in the car park of a luxury apartment complex. He guided them inside, hitting the last level in the elevator. Just who was this man? Doctors made money, but this amount of riches definitely did not come from the hospital.

“Welcome to my home,” Carlisle said as he opened the door to a beautiful apartment.

It was a modern build, with sleek line architecture, tall ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave him one of the best views in New York. It was a glaring juxtaposition to where she lived and could not believe this was how some people lived.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed out, taking in the scenery. “Can’t believe this place is real.”

Carlisle turned on music, which startled (Y/N) around, her dress whooshing with her movement. Her clothing stood out amongst the white and black styling of the place, making her seem out of place and the perfect focal point in the space.

“I believe we never got a chance to dance,” he smiled, taking her arm and twirling her toward his body.

She collided against his chest, having to look up to meet his eyes. Carlisle led the dance, having them sway to a song that (Y/N) could barely register, too entranced by the man before him. She had never felt this drawn to anyone. Taking her time to know people was normally how she went about things, but something about Carlisle told her to jump headfirst into it.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes, they started to lean in, closing the small gap that was still between them.

“Wait,” (Y/N) stopped abruptly.

“Is everything alright?” Carlisle worried. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“Yes.. no… maybe,” she stammered nervously. “It’s just this is my first, uh, time…”

“What?” he chuckled. “First time going home with someone on the first date.”

“First time for everything actually,” she grimaced slightly. “I never had time nor interest in having a love life and before I knew it so much time had passed that I never had the chance to do… well, anything.”

“Well, that’s no problem.” He gave her a smile that instantly made her weak in the knees. “We won’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

“That’s the thing,” she grinned. “Something about you makes me want to do… everything. I’m done putting my life on the back burner and I would love nothing more than to push forward with you.”

As they shared another smile, Carlisle place both of his hands gingerly on the side of her face and finally bent down, pressing a kiss on her lips.

That’s when she saw fireworks.

She could feel herself growing warm already, the knot in her stomach tightening promptly. (Y/N) knew the feeling perfectly. Just because she hadn’t done anything with another person didn’t mean she hadn’t explored that side on her own.

The kiss grew hungrier, with Carlisle taking the lead. He was gentle as his hands roamed down her body and settled onto her waist pulling her warm body flush to his ice-cold one. It had been a few years since he had engaged in any type of physical relations, and though he wasn’t inexperienced, he was ravenous.

He hadn’t planned to meet anyone in his time in Ithaca, much less a human. But (Y/N) had barreled into his life by pure chance. Had she not bumped into him whilst his brain was focused elsewhere, there was a big chance they would never have crossed paths.

Oh, but how glad he was that they did.

“Are you sure you want this?” Carlisle breathed, breaking the kiss first. “I want to make sure you are absolutely certain this is what you want.”

“It is, Carlisle,” she responded. “I’ve never been this sure of anything before.”

“Then, if at any moment you want to stop, just say the word and we’ll stop.”

“Take me, Carlisle,” she mewled in his ear. “I’m all yours.”

The words surprised (Y/N) as they came out, but they ignited something inside Carlisle. He brought his mouth to hers once more, taking his time to devour her mouth. She was bringing the animal in him that lay dormant. And though he normally hungered for blood, this night he was going to feast in something more primal. He was going to show (Y/N) what she had been missing.

Their movements were fluid, almost choreographed. Their hands ran across their clothed bodies, learning every corner with their hands.

When Carlisle felt satisfied with her mouth, his lips traveled down. He kissed her cheek, down her jaw, and started work on her neck. He kissed and kissed until he found a spot that made her moan loudly. With a grin growing on his lips, he nipped at the spot siphoning new sounds from (Y/N)’s mouth.

She could feel herself growing warmer, wetter. Her hands gripped onto his hair, pulling on the blond locks of his hair. This let out a growl from Carlisle’s throat, making him bite softly on the areas he was enjoying — never enough to draw blood, just hard enough that it was a temptation.

“That’s gonna leave a mark in the morning,” she chuckled, slightly out of breath.

“That’s the idea,” he grinned mischievously. “I want everyone to know what will happen here tonight.”

“Then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

Carlisle’s eyes darkened, lust glazing them over. They fumbled backward together, connected through their lips and their hands not working fast enough to get their clothes off their bodies. They stumbled through every step, (Y/N)’s dress getting tangled between their feet and they walked the long hallways trying to not spend even a second apart.

“This isn’t working,” Carlisle chuckled. “Come here.”

Swiftly, he snaked one hand under her legs and the other on the small of her back. A gleeful shriek escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wanted nothing more than to speed them over to the bedroom and get her on his bed so he could ravish her body as if it was his last meal. But he would scare her before he could do so. That meant he had to walk as fast as he could, and that’s what he did.

Carlisle pushed opened his bedroom door with his foot, crossing them through the threshold. He set her down gently as (Y/N) pushed the door closed after. He pressed her front softly against the door, his lips connecting to her skin, and he slid the zipper of her dress down.

As his hand pulled the zipper agonizingly slowly, he kissed from her neck to her shoulders, to her exposed shoulder blades. Every piece of skin he could find he would kiss or nip, smiling as he noted some start their process of bruising. Every mark was a testament to what he had done, of what she had allowed him to do.

The red fabric pooled at her feet, exposing her bare back and the black lace underwear she had chosen to wear. Instinctively, she covered her breasts. A red hue fell over her entire body in embarrassment. But Carlisle took her arms in his, turning her around and placing another kiss on her lips.

“Don’t hide yourself, (Y/N),” he whispered into her ear. “I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”

He looked at her with admiration and hunger, so much hunger. His eyes studied the curve of her breasts, the dip of her hips, the length of her legs — she was a sight to behold. Every single part of her body was perfect to him. From the freckles to the blemishes to the scars.

He had seen perfection in vampires, marble-like skin that could hold no flaw. Still, there was something about human beauty that he found precious. Immortal beauty would never compare to the transitional beauty of human beings. It was transcendental.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said as he looked her over. “Perfect.”

“Well,” she grinned. “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out, so how about we start with you?”

(Y/N) went for his tie first, pulling it until it joined her dress on the floor. Then she unbuttoned his shirt, ever so slowly, teasing him slightly. But it was backfiring. As she worked to build his desire, hers grew as well, along with desperation. His clothes could not be off him fast enough for her. She wanted him, and she wanted him now.

Once she reached the last button, she pushed the shirt and the blazer off his shoulders to reveal his bare chest. (Y/N) ran her hands through his pecs and down his arms, feeling the smooth valley of his skin. Not only did he look like a perfect marble statue, he felt like one. Carlisle was as smooth, cold, and as hard as stone — enchanting and beautiful. It took everything in her to not continue to gawk at his body. His mouth on hers helped.

Carlisle guided them to the bed, laying her gently onto the massive piece of furniture. The duvet felt cold against (Y/N)’s skin – nowhere as cold as Carlisle – and her body erupted in goosebumps. But the coldness was quickly replaced by the warm knot forming in the pit of her stomach as the man slid her panties off her body.

Never breaking eye contact, Carlisle pulled the piece of fabric down her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles, and finally her feet. In the shining light of the full moon that seeped through the windows, he could see her wetness glistening. She was drenched and he could smell her arousal since they had gotten to the apartment. Now that he had her right in front of him, he needed to devour her.

“Let me know if this gets too much, (Y/N),” Carlisle said, sucking in a breath. “Remember, if at any point...”

“I promise I’ll let you know,” (Y/N) somehow managed to breathe out through her panting. “Just touch me please.”

Without a second thought, Carlisle’s tongue lapped her slit, running from her entrance and ending on the sensitive bud that lived at the top. This took (Y/N)’s breath out of her lungs. An overwhelming feeling of pleasure ransacked through her body, arching in tandem.

But that simple touch could not compare to when Carlisle started his ministrations on her clit. His tongue circled, his mouth sucked, and his throat vibrated. That was enough to have her nearing that so-awaited for peak that would have her clutching at the sheets. Yet, Carlisle introduced a finger into her wet entrance and that sent her onto another plane.

“Whatever you’re doing,” she moaned. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

He responded pressed against her, his voice sending shock waves through her body. He was feasting, and like a good boy, he would devour his whole meal. It helped that it was so beautifully presented.

With a masterful tongue, Carlisle continued his attack on the needy mound as his fingers – two more already added for preparation – pistoned into her at an inhuman speed. But what had her moaning and writhing, was how he curled those fingers to press on her most sensitive spot from the inside.

She could feel the crescendo of her climax reaching its peak. Her walls clenched around Carlisle’s fingers, her body feeling fuller than it had ever been. There was only so much she could do with her own fingers. But this man somehow knew just how to coax out her orgasm better than she ever could. His mouth and his digits worked in perfect symphony until they had her yelling out his name.

(Y/N) was sure she was seeing stars. As her cunt wept in pleasure, her brain could barely process what had happened. Se believed she had been able to orgasm when she divulged in alone time, but it had never felt like this. Nothing (Y/N) had done to herself had her legs shaking or had her lungs devoid of oxygen. This experience was simply unparalleled.

As she recuperated from the assault, (Y/N) watched with newly growing warmth as Carlisle licked her arousal from his fingers, savoring it as if it was his last meal. It was just the thing to have her ready for the next round.

Carlisle towered above her, kissing her deeply. As his tongue explored her mouth, she explored her own taste on his tongue, making her wetness start pooling once more. Her hands traveled down his body, one of them landing on the button of his pants as the other palmed at his stone-hard bulge.

(Y/N) gawked as she finally freed his hard-on from his pants, astonished by the mere size of it. She was sure it would never fit – then again, how would she have ever known? But in her astonishment, (Y/N) found herself lowering her head, ready to at least make it fit in one entrance at a time.

Carlisle stopped her.

“Tonight is all about you,” he whispered. “We can delve into other things at a letter time. But right now, I need to be inside you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” (Y/N) purred with newfound confidence. “My cunt is begging to be filled.”

The words surprised the woman as they rolled off her tongue. She had no idea where they were coming from or how she had the gall to say them. But it was how she was feeling and it was what her body was yearning for.

Carlisle’s smile contorted into a devilish grin as he lined himself with her entrance. He used the pool of her core to slather his shaft and pumped himself three times to get himself ready for her.

First, his head breached her, starting the stretch. It felt nothing like when he entered her with his fingers. And though it was just a tad painful, she was quickly growing to love the feeling. As his cock continued to slide into he, (Y/N) felt her breath leave her lungs. Once his hips hit hers, she felt completely full and stretched.

“Are you okay?” Carlisle asked seemingly out of breath as well. “Let me know when you feel comfortable for me to move.”

“Just give me a sec,” she exhaled deeply. Growing used to the feeling did not take long. The stinging pain shifted quickly into yearning pleasure. At first, it was too much, but now it was not enough. “You can move now, please. I need you to move.”

He was slow at first, moving his hips softly into her. But he knew he could not last long. From her scent to her tightness, Carlisle felt himself nearing his end. Though restraint was something he excelled at, something about (Y/N) made his inhibitions fall. It made him feel like a newborn once more – the lowest level of self-control.

As his pace turned faster, (Y/N)’s voice could only make out moans, groans, and pants. It was a feeling like no other, and it was a great one. The knot that had formed at the pit of her stomach tightened as he continued his calculated attack.

“I-I’m close,” she mumbled out.

“So am I, darling.”

He pummeled into her even faster now. His tip hit her g-spot with every single stroke. As he did, (Y/N)’s grip on Carlisle’s hips tightened, pushing him into her deeper and deeper. She was chasing her second orgasm of the night in what she found was her favorite way.

Until he used his thumb to stimulate her clit. (Y/N) yelled out at the attack. Her eyes closed and her back arched off the bed. He rolled the small bud over and over, his fingers somehow matching the speed of his hips.

It was only a couple of thrusts more before they were both screaming out each other’s names. (Y/N) felt Carlisle’s release mixed with hers, coating her walls with his seed. It was reckless, but it felt right at that moment.

Carlisle slipped out of her and climbed beside her on the bed, cradling her body close to his as she panted. He could tell she was exhausted. (Y/N) slumped against him, too tired to do anything else.

Her mind was hazy from everything they did, and although she wanted more, her body was overcome with exhaustion. (Y/N) thought she would have built up stamina, that she would be able to go all night and enjoy this man for as much as she could. But she had not anticipated how much energy she would drain by getting two leg-shaking orgasms one right after the other.

“So,” Carlisle said into her hair. (Y/N)’s head was laid on his chest, his hand drawing shapes on her bare back. “How was your first time?”

(Y/N) stared at him through her lashes, transfixed at how the moonlight hit his perfect features. “It was more than I could have ever imagined,” she said. “You’re more than I had ever imagined.”

“What do you mean?” he chuckled. “Do not tell me you had not planned to have your first time with a man you barely know.”

“Obviously I didn’t,” she laughed. “But I wouldn’t trade this for the world. I, uh, I hope this wasn’t a one-off. I would like to see you again… and many times after that.”

“I could never let you go now. Not after all that,” Carlisle smiled down at her. “I would certainly enjoy continuing this wonderful adventure. In fact, if you’re up for it, why don’t we go out for breakfast in the morning?”

“I would love nothing more.”

Carlisle met her in another soft kiss. This one wasn’t hungry or ravenously passionate. It was full of promise, full of future expectations. It was a kiss that told her he wanted to know everything about her, to someday bring her into his life – although explaining his supernatural situation could prove rather tricky.

For her, it was a kiss that solidified her Christmas miracle. She was meant to meet this man. She was meant to go home with him. She was meant to be here, on his bed, in his arms. Carlisle was the miracle she had always waited for.

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drabblesandimagines · 9 months

Text

Breathless

Clive Rosfield x female reader Angsty, one swear word, description of panic attack, minor game spoilers?

Inspired by this request.

It has been a trying, upsetting week. Not once, but twice had your unit of Cursebreakers arrived too late in order to free some overworked Bearers. Masters have been working them harder since the crystal magicks have started to falter, depending on their source. You knew you were spread too thin – it was always going to be by a couerl’s whisker if you made it there in time. It still hurts, though, to find the petrified bodies, gathering up their remains to perform another solemn casting in the hope that at last they will have found peace.

You’re exhausted, overworked – by your own hand, you know – and to come back without anything to show for it is so discouraging.

You know you should think of all the successful missions, the ones where the boat had come back filled with Bearers who would be safe for the first time in their lives at the Hideaway, but the failure weighs heavily on your mind. Reporting back to Dorys that, no, you weren’t fast enough, you weren’t good enough…

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the negative thoughts from your mind. You need a hot meal and a decent sleep – one that wasn’t a short nap on the ground, never allowing yourself to sleep too deeply as you needed to be ready to move at a moment – and to be embraced in a certain Fire Dominant’s arms.

As the Cid of the new Hideaway, Clive is a very busy man. He’s often being pulled in multiple directions with various requests. You both had your own missions too and rarely did the two coincide in nature, but that’s the way your relationship had always been. There’s always been something between the two of you, the spark kindled into a steady flame throughout the past few years, culminating in a passionate liaison under a moonlit sky. The time apart always made the moments you had together all the more special, like no time had passed at all as he held you tight in his arms in his bed at night, when you kissed him as if you needed him to breathe, nipping your teeth lightly on his neck to coax a moan from Lord Rosfield’s lips.

Or other nights when you’d sobbed in his arms – for those you’d lost, the injustices you’d witnessed and he’d whisper soft reassurances in your ear, promising the dawn would come.

The world is wearing you down and he is like a tincture for your soul.

Dorys must’ve been keeping an eye out for the skiff because she is waiting for you as the lift opens up on the boarding deck. She casts a questioning eye over the group who stands behind you, obviously looking for Bearers.

You shake your head, sadly, before she can question aloud.

“You did your best, all of you. Any injuries?” A couple in the group nod and are promptly sent off to the infirmary. Dorys gives you a hard stare as you stay put.

“I’m fine, honestly. Nothing to trouble Tarja with.”

“Then get some food and sleep – we’ll debrief in the morning.”

“Thanks, Dorys.” You cast a glance up at the balcony outside Clive’s chambers but your captain easily catches it.

“You’ll be pleased to know he’s home, I’m sure,” Dorys teases.

The ale hall is deserted due to the late hour but as you climb the stairs up to Clive’s chambers, there are noises from within. A light feminine laugh, accompanied by Clive’s deep chuckle and it makes you stop right outside the door. It seems impossible for anything to be funny at the moment, but another intrusive thought comes to mind - when was the last time you’d even heard Clive laugh in your presence?

There’s a bit of warped wood that needs tending to, but no-where near on the list of priorities. If you angle yourself just so, you can see through the crack. Jill and Clive are sat on the bench he keeps in his chambers, wine goblets in front of them, candles flickering throughout the room. It looks romantic. He has his body turned to the door, but you can see Jill is leaning towards him, her hand on his thigh.

You can’t hear what they’re saying – their voices too low for that – but Jill leans forward then and you step back, not wanting to see what happens next. Your heart pounds – you’re tired, you know you’re so tired and upset and a failure and your mind spirals.

Clive is a lord and Jill is a lady – a proper lady – raised in the courts and beautiful and charming and sweet. You don’t dress as fine as she, your hair never sits as pretty, you’re incapable of holding yourself with the same grace she does. You’re coarse, you only learned your letters in the last few years of Hideaway living, struggling somewhat as you don’t practice as much as you should. There had been a handful of nights where Clive would lie besides you patiently as you tried to read aloud a couples of passages from a children’s storybook, for Founder’s sake. Jill could write and read fluently, a dab hand at needlework too…

Of course they belong with each other. They will always have a connection that you won’t, of a shared childhood. They’re Dominants and they spend so much time together, they’re a perfect couple and you’ve been deluding yourself that you could’ve ever had kept hold of his heart in the way you did.

Your chest feels tight. You need to get out of here.

There’s movement from behind the door then and you hurry down the stairs, pressing yourself into the corner, being obscured by the shadows. The door to the chambers open and Jill departs.

“Thank you, Jill, for everything.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and bids him goodnight, walking down the stairs and heading out via the boarding deck to head down to her room. The door to the chambers closes and you sink down against the wall, cuddling your knees.

Why does your chest hurt so?

You don’t know how long you sit there, eventually clambering back up to your own feet, leaning heavily on the wall, and taking the long way back to your bunk through the forge and up via the atrium and across the bridge, thankfully not meeting anyone on your journey as you crawl into bed.

You don’t sleep well, if at all. Your mind whirling with thoughts of Clive and Jill – what had he meant when he had thanked her? Clive is the sweetest man. He’d never want to hurt you, even at the cost of his own heart, but loving someone is letting them go, isn’t it?

You give up on sleep just before dawn, heading up to the mess where you find Dorys, mulling over reports at one of the tables. She smiles, sadly, at the sorry sight of you.

“I did not mean for you to be up with the sun to hand in your report.”

“I just want it over with. There’s not much to report. We failed, we were hours too late to both groups of Bearers. I need,” you swallow, before correcting yourself, “We need to get back out there today to try and get a head start on the next. I’m sure there’s a pattern, or we can stage something or-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Dorys.”

“No. You look awful. Did you even sleep?”

“I’m fine.” You reply, tersely.

“I disagree. I’m not letting you take out a group like this, let alone go out yourself. You will report to the infirmary and you will rest.”

“Really?” You can’t mask the incredulous tone of your voice.

“I’m surprised Clive didn’t say this to you already.”

Your heart skips at the sound of his name, but then Dorys frowns in realization.

“Wait, you came down from the bunks. Did you not see him last night?”

“It doesn’t matter where I slept!” You hiss, remembering to watch your volume at this early hour.

She gives you a hard stare. “If you won’t listen to me, I know you will listen to him. Go and see Clive before I drag you to him.”

You clench your fists in frustration, trying to steady your breath.

“Yes, Captain. I apologise. It was late, I did not wish to disturb him. I will go and report in now.” You spin on your heel and jog down the stairs to the boarding deck and towards the ale hall. The problem is, your frustration drives you until you reach the top of the stairs once more, the handle in your grip but then all you can remember is the scene of last night – how perfect the two had looked together…

It suddenly feels hard to breathe, a tightness constricting your chest, as if you can’t get your lungs to expand fully enough.

You need to get out of here, back into the fresh air.

You turn and stumble on the stairs, catching yourself on the banister.

“Hey, you all right there?” Gav’s concerned voice comes from below – he’d emerged through Blackthorne’s forge. He must be setting out on a scouting mission to be awake this early.

You look at him, trying to get a hold of yourself, force a smile and a word of reassurance, but you can’t.

Your legs give out under you and you sit down heavily on the stairs, still clutching on the banister. Your grip is weakening, the edges of your vision tinged with black. Why can’t you breathe? Are you so useless now you can’t even do that?

“Shit.” Gav races up the stairs, crouching down in front of you, eyes scanning to see where the injury is, because there must be one for you to be in such a state. “Clive.” He bellows in the direction of the chambers. “Clive!”

Heavy footsteps come from the chambers behind and you hear the door open behind you, that familiar gravelly, albeit sleep-tinged voice calling your name out with affection at first, but then again with alarm when he sees Gav’s face.

Gav stands up and back to allow Clive to take his place, before darting down the stairs, yelling something about how he’ll go fetch Tarja.

Clive cradles your face, asking you what’s wrong. He looks frightened, but that can’t be right. Why can’t you breathe?

He says something again to you, but the words don’t go in. All you can hear is how shallow your breathing has become. Tears line those stormy blue eyes you adore so much, the ones you could’ve spent staring into for hours. His mouth continues to move but it’s almost as if you were underwater, a ringing sound in your head, the black continuing to creep over your vision until the world disappears entirely.

The next conscious thought is that someone is holding your hand, rubbing their thumb back and forth over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm. Your chest still feels tight, but not as much as it did. You open your eyes and blink at the somewhat familiar ceiling of the infirmary.

“Thank the Founder you’re awake.” Clive says quietly, squeezing your hand.

You try to bolt up at his voice, but he places his hands on your shoulders and keeps you still.

“Easy, darling. You need to rest - please.” You’ve always found it hard to refuse him.

You nod and he smiles, letting go of your shoulders and readjusting the pillows to allow you to rest against a little more upright. “Here, drink.” He passes you a goblet of water from the bedside. “I will fetch Tarja.”

You nod, taking it in trembling hands and sip the lukewarm water as he gets to his feet and heads around the curtain, soon returning with the red-headed physicker as you place the goblet back down.

“Good afternoon. You gave everyone quite a fright this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tarja gives you a kind smile and takes a seat on the vacant bed. “Can you tell me what happened? Gav, Clive and Dorys have given me their side of the story.”

“I don’t know what it was. I just… I suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was like something was constricting my chest and I couldn’t get the air in.”

Tarja nods. “How had you been feeling before this occurred?”

“Fine.”

Clive and Tarja give you a disparaging look.

“A little tired, then.”

“Dorys told us you’ve been working exceptionally hard, and it has been a trying week.”

“Please, can we not speak of my failures?” Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart begins to pound again. “I’ll do better, I will…”

“Easy.” Tarja chides, leaning forward. “Take a deep breath, hold it, then release. Copy me.”

You do so for a couple of moments, feeling silly, but your chest loosens, your heart settling into a more comfortable rhythm.

“Better?”

“Mm. What’s the matter with me?”

“You’re exhausted, for one. You need to rest and properly look after yourself. You’re taking too much on your shoulders and this is your body’s way of repaying you. Your mind is overwhelmed." She paused for a moment, and nods to herself. "You’re relieved from the Cursebreakers.”

“But-"

“Listen to Tarja.” Clive pleads. “They will cope without you and when you are better, I promise you can resume your duties.”

You know you can’t get out of this, not with Tarja, Clive and Dorys all laying down the law.

You nod.

“Good.” Tarja smiles. “I’m going to brew you some tea and get you a hot meal. I will discharge you later on, all being well.”

“Thank you, Tarja.” Clive nods as the physicker gets to her feet.

“Thank you.” You repeat, softly.

Tarja retreats back around the other side of the screen and Clive takes hold of your hand once more, his brow still furrowed in concern.

“Dorys said you returned last night. Why didn’t you come to my chambers? I’ve missed you so.”

You look down at your lap. It would better to get this nightmare over with.

“I heard you and Jill.”

“Heard what?” He sounds truly puzzled.

“I came up to the chambers and the two of you were laughing. You sounded happy. And all I could think was when was the last time I’d heard you laugh like that? We hardly see each other. I’m always out with the Cursebreakers, and you’re always away with Jill.” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand. “Please, Clive, it’s okay. I understand. Don’t… Don’t let me stand in the way anymore.”

“Stand in the way - what do you mean?”

“You and Jill are perfect for one another. I understand that you want to end whatever we’ve been calling this…“ You continue talking into your lap, afraid that if you look up you'll see relief in his eyes.

“Now, I admit I’ve been somewhat neglectful of you-”

“No, that’s not what-“

“Please, allow me to finish. I have, and that’s not fair. I desire nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you, but I have allowed myself to be consumed with the Mothercrystals and the nature of that does mean that Jill has been in my company as late. I can’t take you into an aetherflood, I won’t risk it.”

“Destroying the Mothercrystals is important.”

“It is, and though we are fighting so Bearers and Dominants and everyone can live on their own terms, we still must remember to live in the moments we have.” Clive presses his hand to the side of your face, placing his thumb under your chin and tilts your gaze gently towards him.

“I love you.”

“Clive…” Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“You, and only you, are the flame that burns within my heart. Earlier, when you spoke of your failures – what failures? You strive to be the best you can every day, darling. I see it, Dorys sees it, Jill, Gav, Otto, Charon – the whole Hideaway. You are passionate, hardworking, kind, considerate… You will have to forgive me as I am no scribe, but I could continue to wax on somewhat lyrically of everything I adore about you.” His face flushes red as he continues to hold your gaze.

“I love you – I do not tell you enough, I know I don’t – and I vow, from this moment onwards, I will make sure you know this every day.”

Your breath catches again, but not in the same way it had previously. You lean forward, allowing yourself to be fully enveloped in his arms and you sob into his neck – releasing the tension that has been building up within you for days.

He holds you close, rubbing his large palm on your back in comforting circles, allowing your anxieties to retreat under the surface. You know they will re-emerge at some point – it would be foolish to think they would not – but for now they settle.

“I love you too,” you mumble, gaining some composure after a period and pull back, wiping the tears from your face before kissing him, delicately. It is a gentle, reassuring kiss – perfect for the moment. Soft pecks against each other’s lips, before you nip his with your teeth ever so slightly.

He pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours. “Careful, my love, or you’ll make me lose my breath.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #reader requests #ff16 requests #ff16 x reader #clive rosfield x female reader #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield angst

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yunggoblin · 10 months

Text

Always Working - Simon 'Ghost' Riley (18+)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Stripper!Female!Reader

Summary: Simon works as a bouncer at a strip club you perform at and a customer gets a bit handsy.

Warnings: 18+ Blog, Oral (Female Receiving), Cussing, Smut, Riding, Slight Breeding King, PTSD Episode, MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 4,202

If someone were to ask Ghost what he’d do after being in the military he’d most likely just laugh and expect to be dead during battle. Ghost never saw himself in the retirement stage, he lived for the battlefield and he saw himself dying there. But that all changed when Price forced retirement early on Ghost.

Ghost wasn’t the only one, Soap also was forced to retire and a bunch of other men. Price stated there was a younger, fresher batch of men coming into the military and taking over Task Force 141. Ghost didn’t care that he was being replaced, he cared about not working anymore, especially for his country or maybe it was the fact he was scared shitless going back into the community. He didn’t know how he’d act upon regular civilians. The real world wasn’t like his missions he’s been on.

He’s been prepared on how to take an ambush from the enemy but wasn’t ready to speak to an elderly woman who needed help crossing the street or a small child staring at him with his mask over his face. That’s when Ghost realized he was a night person, less innocent people out and about staring at him whereas it seems like barely anyone during the darkness even paid attention to him.

So, what was Ghost doing after being released?

“Ghost.” Someone called out to Ghost who was leaning against the brick wall outside the building, looking towards the indoor bouncer who had a worried look on his face he informed what was going on. “We have a problem with that same guy towards Y/N.”

Ghost nodded, flicking the lit cigarette he was smoking and pushed himself off the wall and switched places with the indoor bouncer so he could check ID’s before anyone enters the strip club. That’s right, Ghost was an overnight bouncer for a strip club. The military retirement settlement checks were pretty damn good, a few hundred thousand a month to cover his bills, food and whatever the hell he wanted to buy, but Ghost was a working man. He couldn’t sit around at home doing nothing all day.

The very first night Ghost was a retired man he walked into this strip club for a drink only to toss out a man who was getting too handsy with a dancer. The owner was slightly intimidated towards Ghost at first only to smile and say; “How would you like a job?” Ever since then Ghost has been working here, that was nearly four months ago.

Ghost knew who the bouncer was talking about, there was an older man named Gary who liked to hit the club right when it opens and toss singles to the girls. Usually he’s on his best behavior for the first few hours but after a few drinks he starts to get handsy and loud towards the women, that’s when Ghosts steps in.

Since the club has been open for a few hours, Ghost knew exactly where Gary was. Ghost past booths full of rowdy men who soon fell quiet towards his presents. The knew not to fuck with Ghost and respect the women if they still wanted to enjoy the entertainment. As the booths were now behind him he could hear the men speak up and cheer once more towards the talent.

Making his way towards the back of the building, Ghost passed by private rooms that were being occupied by private dances. He made his way toward room five only to stop the bartender that was about to walk in there and serve Gary more drinks. “Hold on Daisy, I think Gary here has had enough for the night.”

The small brunette woman nodded and parted ways from Ghost, heading back to the bar to make more drinks for other customers. Ghost pushed past the long black curtains, the room was slightly dimmed with red lights from the corner of the room, music was coming from the speaker while Gary was leaning against the black cushioned leather chair enjoying the view in front of him.

Ghost also was enjoying the show. There you stood in the middle of the room, spinning and twirling around on the silver pole connected front the ceiling to the floor board. The way your half naked body moved swiftly with the music, your hair perfectly falling over your shoulders and the look in your eyes that made Ghost smirk knowing you were in the moment of the dance. Ghost glanced down at Gary, surprisingly shocked that he was well behaving for you, so what Ghost didn’t understand was why did the other bouncer say Gary was being handsy?

The loud echo of the harsh slap rang through Ghost’s ears as his eyes widened with anger. A large red hand print was forming on your bare ass cheek as Gary spanked you hard. You yelped loudly, grabbing the pole and straightening yourself up after bending over to give him a slight view of what your lacy thong was hiding. “Well don’t stop now darling! I have a full chub here!” Gary yelled.

You looked at Ghost, behind Gary who didn’t seem to notice the large bouncer. Ghost’s hand came down, clamping Gary by the back of his neck and lifted him up from the chair. “Shows over.” Ghost snarled.

“H- Hey!” Gary squirmed against Ghost’s strength. “I paid for two hours with her Ghost, you can’t just rob me like that!” Gary tried to fight against Ghost, even digging his heels into the carpet of the floor. Ghost kept moving towards the exit, basically dragging the smaller man. Approaching the door that had the red exit sign Ghost slammed the smaller male against the wall next to the door.

“If I ever see you in here again I’ll fucking gut you myself, do you understand?” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he stared down at the man.

Gary’s frightened features showed Ghost that he wasn’t going to be coming around here anymore. Nodding, Gary swore he wouldn’t come back here. “Good. Now go.” Ghost pushed him towards the exit door and shut it behind him, automatically locking the ex-customer so he wouldn’t come back in. Ghost exhaled through his nostrils, making his black balaclava damp, his tense shoulders slumped as he tried to calm his beating heart.

He felt stares and glances towards him. Slowly turning around to face the people and dancers, everyone was staring at Ghost. “Go back to having a good time. Men, reminder do NOT touch the talent or you will be kicked out!”

All the men murmured and nodded their heads, agreeing with Ghost’s rules and went back to watching the women as they started to dance again. Ghost fixed his mask over his face, clearing his throat as he made sure his appearance was decent once more before seeing you.

Walking down the long hallway towards the back rooms, Ghost stopped at room number five and knocked on the side of the wall before entering. “Come in, Ghost.”

Ghost pulled back the black curtains and entered, watching you pick up the scattered money laid all over the floor, his eyes traced the curve of your ass as you moved around. The small attire you wore gave him very little imagination needed when he could see how hard your nipples were in the bra. “You alright?” His English accent was thicker as he was still slightly angry at the customer for touching you.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You sighed out, combing your fingers through your messy locks. “You know, it feels like we’re robbing the guy.” You chuckled as Ghost squinted at you, confused.

“How so?” Ghost crossed his tattooed covered arms over his large muscular chest.

“Man comes here on a daily basis, always pays well and gets a two hour private lap dance only to not finish it because he can’t keep his hands to himself.” You counted the money in your hands.

“Seems to me someone should follow the rules and he could finish for what he paid for.” Ghost gruffed out.

“Easy big dog, I’m not complaining.” You pulled five twenties out of the pile you had.

“You’re not complaining that he spanked you?” Ghost narrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at you while you walked up to him.

You smiled at how protective Ghost was towards you, even if he didn’t mean to be, but the man was just doing his job. “No, not that. I’m not complaining that he pays nearly three hundred dollars for a two hour private dance only to be kicked out halfway through it and not refunded.” You pushed the one-hundred dollars into Ghost’s black gloved hand. “Besides, I’d rather have someone else’s hand print on my ass than his.” You looked up at Ghost as he stared down at you.

You couldn’t help but to smirk as you love to flirt with the large security bouncer. “Thanks for protecting me, you do more than what Tyler does.” You rolled your eyes knowing the other security guard just ran to Ghost after hearing about the problem.

“Yeah, anything for my favorite girl.” Ghost’s chuckled, he could feel his face heating up underneath his balaclava as he got the hint that you wished it was his hand on your ass. “You know, you really should keep this money. It was you who got assaulted.” Ghost tried to give you back the money but you shoved his hand right back into his chest.

“I know Dale doesn’t pay you shit, keep it.” You encouraged him, patting his hand.

You weren’t wrong, the pay was shit and the hours were long, but Ghost didn’t give a shit about the money or the long shifts as long as he knew you were safe. “Fine, but I’ll be thinking of you when I spend it.”

“I know you think of me a lot, I bet.” You teased him.

Ghost swallowed thickly, shifting his weight on each foot as you laughed at him. “I knew it. I’ll even give you an extra job, walk me to my car after we close so you know I’ll get to it safely?” You pouted up at him, your hand still cupping his that held onto the money.

“I suppose I can put in the overtime.” The outline of his lips twitched upwards as he smirked at you.

“You know what time I get off.” As you slipped past Ghost you gave his ass a light tap in his black tactical pants.

Ghost jumped slightly, watching you leave the small private room. His eyes were on your bare ass as you swayed your hips with each step you took, teasing him. “Little minx.” Ghost grunted, grabbing the inner thigh of his pants and adjusting them so no one could see the lining of his hard cock.

The teasing between you and Ghost started the first week he was employed. At first it was just talking at the bar taking a few shots. Alcohol for him to ease his nerves about being around people, alcohol for you to loosen up and dance in front of strangers. Ghost thought he’d be an alcoholic, it seemed that alcohol helped him and his nerves but he was wrong, it was you who helped him through his anxiety and PTSD moments.

“Ghost, Ghost I need you to breathe.” You said as you pulled Ghost into a closet, shutting and locking the door to have more privacy.

His lungs, it felt like they were collapsing as his throat tightened up and his brain throbbed. Memories, awful memories of his teammates going into battle flashed behind his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” Ghost roared, his hand collided against the wall making a loud ‘thud’ sound. Ghost nearly killed someone.

The man demanded more alcohol and tossed a shot glass towards the bartender Daisy, making it shatter against the wall. The loud sound of glass shattering got Ghost on edge making him flinch from the hectic sound. Grabbing the man by the throat, Ghost pulled out his knife from his hidden tactical pants pocket and held it to his throat. Everyone was scared and shocked by Ghost’s actions but not you.

Your soft hands were on his shoulders and your small voice in his ear telling him to drop the knife and let the man go. He wasn’t going to at first until he felt your soft hands apply pressure to his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. This was a strip club, not the battlefield. Not an abandoned building that he and his squad was clearing out. Ghost stepped away from the man who ran out of the club crying that he was going to call the police.

“If the cops come, Ghost isn’t here. No one of that name works here.” You tol Daisy as you grabbed Ghost’s arm and pulled him towards the closet.

“Talk to me big man.” Your voice was soothing Ghost as he was finally breathing normally.

“Fuck.” Ghost sighed out as the episode he had was out of his system. “I- I guess I just had a PTSD moment.” Ghost scratched the back of his head, the mask he wore was damp with sweat. Ghost looked at your confused expression. “I was in the military, high up.” Ghost explained. “Seen some shit people will kill themselves to not live within their head.”

You nodded, cupping his jaw as you stared up at him. The circles of his eyes smeared in black paint. “If you ever have these episodes, you come to me. I’ll be here for you.” You leaned up towards him and pressed your lips against his skull cheek. “Let's hope we see more of those, you with a knife is pretty hot.”

“Behave yourself, Y/N.” Ghost chuckled as you laughed with him.

“Never heard the word before.” You teased, pulling out an old chair. “Here, chill in here for a bit. If anyone asks about you, not a word about you. If we really need you, we’ll come get you. You just relax.” You patted the top of his head and walked back out to do your job.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Ghost said after you closed the door, not to be used to hospitality.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked Ghost who was waiting by the front door. You tossed on your sweatshirt. After clocking out you changed into your regular street clothes and stuffed your entertainment clothing into your gym bag.

Ghost nodded, opening the door for you. “Bye Y/N, bye Ghost.” Daisy waved from the bar she was cleaning up and refilling bottles after serving customers throughout the night.

“Night Daisy!” You and Ghost said at the same time. The cool late night wind hit you in the face making you shiver, it was a nice night for summer, almost too nice. “It feels like fall time.” You crossed your arms around your body, walking next to Ghost towards your car.

“Hey, I love fall time.”

“Of course you do Ghost boy.” You laughed at him, hinting at his balaclava. “Thanks for walking me to my- what the fuck!” You yelled, noticing your driver side tires were flat. Rushing towards the other side the passenger side tires were also flat, a deep slash visible showing that the tires were no longer compatible to hold air. “Fucking Gary.” You huffed, grazing your tongue over your teeth before you gritted them.

Ghost looked around at the building, seeing a surveillance camera pointing towards the parking lot. “I’ll have Tyler look over the tape and see if it was Gary, we’ll call the cops first thing tomorrow's shift. Luckily we have the bastards file throughout membership. But first,” Ghost pulled out his keys to his car. “Let's get you home.”

You walked with Ghost towards his car. “Oh look at you, protecting me during my shift and driving me home. How will I ever repay you, Ghost?” Jumping into the lifted jeep you shut the door after you sat down in the passenger side.

“I can think of a few ways you can repay me but let’s just get you home first.” Ghost placed his keys into the ignition and drove off to your place.

Arriving at your apartment, Ghost followed you up the stairs stopping at your door. “You want to come inside so I can repay you?” You wiggled the keys into the holder, pushing your door open.

“Yes please.” Ghost followed you inside the apartment, he didn’t really have time to soak in the photos you had hanging up or the books you had placed on the shelves. Ghost grunted lowly as you shoved him down onto the sofa. “You practice at home?” Ghost grinned, seeing the long stripper pole in front of him, standing tall in the middle of the living room.

“Maybe just a little, practice makes perfect.” You said clicking play on the remote having music play from the speakers. You grabbed onto the pole, twirling around on it. As you twisted on the silver cold pole, you stripped bits of clothing here and there all the way down to your bra and panties.

“Practice does indeed lead to perfection.” Ghost hummed, his dark eyes watching you grind against the post. His teeth sinked into his bottom lip as he spread his legs, trying to adjust in his now tight pants.

You couldn’t help but to smirk at Ghost, noticing the large bulge in his black pants. “Awe.” You coo, leaving the post you got on all fours and started to crawl towards Ghost, making sure to give him a perfect view of your breasts peeking out from your bra. Reaching his legs you placed your hands upon his knees, moving them inwards on his inner thighs. “Is my poor Ghost boy hard?”

Ghost’s breath hitched in his throat as your soft hands grazed against his hard cock underneath his pants. “Hmm, fuck.” He groaned, trying not to buck his hips against your touch but it was no use. “So fucking hard, Y/N. I’ve been hard since I saw you dancing tonight.” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he watched your fingers dance along the button of his pants.

“Well then, let me help you.” You purred, dipping your fingers into the hem of his pants and tugging them down. Your mouth watered at the outline of his cock through his boxers. His large dick making a big tent points up from the fabric. Grabbing the elastic waistband, you pulled his boxers over his veiny cock. Ghost let out a throaty moan as the cool air hit the tip of his cock making it twitch.

Swallowing the large pool of saliva in your mouth, moaning as your hand wrapped around his large thick heavy dick. “Oh fuck.” Ghost tossed his head back. “Please, please, fuck, Y/N.” Ghost’s voice was soft as he begged for whatever you had planned for him.

“Poor Ghost boy, so hard.” You leaned forward, placing soft kisses against the head of his pre-come oozing cock. Kissing down his long shaft your tongue darted out and gave his heavy sac some kitten licks. Placing your flat tongue at the bottom of his shaft you slowly licked upwards and engulfed the tip of his cock into your mouth, slowly swallowing him down.

“S- Shit! Y/N.” Ghost moaned, his hand grabbing your hair as he slowly rolled his hips into your mouth. “Good girl, fuck such a good girl.” Ghost moaned, his cock twitching in your mouth as you kept suckling him further down your throat.

The way his cock twitched deep in your throat had your cunt dripping, you could feel the juices slowly drip down your thigh. You moaned around his aching cock as your cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be full already.

Bobbing your head up and down fiercely on his cock, you moan once more around his cock sending vibrations down his shaft to his balls. The taste of him had you craving more and more each time you pushed yourself further. “Y/N- I’m- Fuck, I’m going to come.” Ghost choked out.

Swirling your tongue around his cock one last time you slowly pulled yourself away from his saliva covered dick. You moaned, licking your swollen red lips. “Oh you fucking brat.” Ghost snarled, his orgasm backing off. “I was going to shoot my fucking load down that tight throat.” Ghost grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap. “But I guess I’ll just fucking fill this pussy with my come.”

Straddling Ghost’s lap you gasped loudly as his two thick fingers plunged inside of your pussy. “G- Ghost!” You sobbed as you rolled your hips against his touch.

“Fuck, this sweet cunt is so creamy all over my fingers.” Ghost hummed, his fingers diving in and out of your sloppy pussy. “That’s it my sweet girl.” Ghost praised as he watched the pleasure wash over your face as you tried to ride his digits faster.

“Ghost, fuck yes. Please.” You begged, gripping onto his shoulders you kept slamming yourself down his thick fingers only to cry out loudly as he added another. “Christ!” You sobbed.

Ghost chuckled lowly at how you plead for him. He could feel that you were getting close to your orgasm as your cunt fluttered tightly around his fingers. As you were about to push yourself down on his digits his fingers left your soaking pussy. “Ghost!” You sobbed out as your buzzing body was slowly coming down from your high.

“Not so fun when it happens to you, huh?”

“Please, just fuck me.” You begged, your head resting upon his forehead. You looked into his dark eyes, panting. You could feel the tip of his leaking cock press against your entrance but not pushing inside. Your hands danced along the black mask, slowly pushing it upwards.

“Mask stays on, love.” Ghost grunted out, his accent oozed thickly.

Stopping your movements, the black fabric rested upon the tip of his nose, showing his plump lips and slightly stubble beard. Leaning forward, you crashed your lips against his, moaning at the sweet taste of whatever alcohol he drank earlier from tonight. You squealed against his mouth as his cock entered you. “Oh god, Ghost.” You gasped against his lips. The feeling of his large cock impaling your tight cunt had you shivering for more.

“Simon.” Ghost grunted which made you pull away and look at him. “Names Simon, call me Simon.” Simon’s lips twisted into a smirk, showing somewhat of his white perfect teeth.

“Simon.” You let out a breathy moan. “Oh, Simon.” You moaned louder as you started to rock your hips faster on his cock. “Right there, Simon. Right there.” You sobbed out as the tip of his cock grazed in an area you’ve never reached.

Your nails dug into his dark shirt as you held on tight to him, holding yourself close to him. The sound of his thick cock pushing into your wet cunt was a sinful yet wonderful noise, it had your stomach twisting tightly along with hearing Simon moan lowly each time you raise yourself to the tip of his cock and slam down.

“Fuck, little girl.” Ghost snarled, his large glove hands gripped your waist as he guided you down his fat cock. You could feel the ridges of his cock each time he entered you. “I’m going to fucking come in this little pussy and fill you with my seed.” Simon’s voice was deeper as he fucked himself up into you. “Going to watch you grow round with my child and watch you perform.” Simon hissed.

The thought of performing with Simon’s child growing inside of you had your cunt clenching around his cock. Simon chuckled deeply as he noticed the sudden tightness. “That what you want lovie? You want me to fuck you sideways and get you pregnant with my kid?” Simon’s thrusts became more sloppier as his twitching cock pushed further inside of you. “Fuck, watch your tits get big and round full of milk.”

You were lost for words as you leaned against Simon’s shoulder, moaning as you were now a fuck doll for Simon, your movements stopped as you became paralyze from pleasure. Your clit grinds against Simon’s lower abs from each thrust. “Come with me little girl, I can feel your sweet puss squeezing me.” Simon’s large hands grabbed the flesh of your ass, marking it.

Your vision blurred as Simon’s cock kept drilling against your g-spot. “Oh- Oh yes! Simon!” You sobbed loudly, slamming back down on his cock as he pushed himself inside of you, pausing his movements as his come erupted inside of you. You both cried out loud as his long ropes of come spit inside of your spazzing cunt. “S- Simon, oh fuck Simon.” You shivered at the feeling of his warm liquid flowing inside of you.

“Shh, good girl.” Simon cooed as he rubbed your back, you both staying there for a while. “Well, it might not be my handprint on your ass but it will be my come dripping out of your cunt.” Simon noted.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley's Masterlist

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bird-inacage · 8 months

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CALL ME BY FIRE (SEASON 3): Participation of Jeff Satur

Now this has been the most uncanny crossover I never saw coming. A show I've been watching for years, and my introduction to thai BL which initially put Jeff's name on my radar. Here's some context for any fans who have heard of his participation and want to know more.

Call Me by Fire is a mainland Chinese TV competition show. They invite 33 established male celebrities with the goal to form an ultimate "boy band" by the show's conclusion. What tends to be the incredible pulling factor is they'll invite a combination of singers, musicians, actors, dancers, idols, presenters - incredibly well known faces in the industry - many of them hugely respected OGs in their field. (The demographic is usually late 20s+) so there's an intentional sense of maturity, experience and wisdom amongst the ensemble. The emphasis isn't really on forming this 'fictional' boy band, it acts as a mechanism for us to get more up close and personal with these artists. Allowing viewers to appreciate their creative genius, as well as who they are as people.

This show came as a spin off of another series 'Sisters Who Make Waves' which has the exact same premise but for female celebrities. Because it became such an instant hit, they made a male version shortly after.

As a Chinese speaker, I've been watching both shows since they started in 2020. Both are in their third season (with Call Me by Fire broadcasting right now). This year they've decided to include more participants (of mainly Chinese/Asian descent) from America, Korea, Japan, Vietnam and Thailand - along with the majority from China, Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Why I find this show both incredibly entertaining and compelling is because you get to watch spectacular collaborations between some of the most talented artists of this generation, and witness them embark on a journey of brotherhood through a shared love for performance (they live, work and perform together for the duration of the show). For me, theres also a massive nostalgia factor, because a large portion of these artists will be people I grew up watching.

There will be a lot of new attention on this show due to the Jeff's involvement (whose dubbed ‘Luo Jie Fu’ in Chinese). We’re only on Episode 2, and he's already making a huge impression, earning one of two MVPs spots after their first live performance - his group ranking 2nd out of 8, and his personal ranking being 7th overall (based on the live audience popularity vote).

The show is uploaded onto Youtube in full (post-broadcast on a Saturday). Just to warn you, the episodes are usually very, very long (sometimes between 2-3 hours in total), but I personally really enjoy that. There are English subtitles but the translations don’t always capture the nuances.

Jeff is doing a superb job so far and he's very brave for taking this on. He brings something distinctly unique in his showmanship and personal sense of style. It's a daunting prospect for someone who can't speak or understand Chinese, but the other brothers are doing their best to help him feel as welcome and settled in as possible.

If anyone has any questions about the show or clips featuring Jeff they'd like to know more about, I'm more than happy to translate.

#call me by fire #call me by fire s3 #jeff satur #chinese tv #how much charisma does jeff have?#YES #yes to everything basically #the boy was born to perform

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doodle-pops · 19 days

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Insufferable Beginnings

Turgon x reader

Request: Turgon x reader, enemy’s to lover in Valinor, angst?… (help I live the enemy’s to livers trope to much 😭😭) - Anon

A/N: I originally wanted to keep this short, like under 3k, however, dialogues became my weakness and I fell in love with the hating each other a little too much. However, I do hope that this was good enough to your liking. Apologies if it’s too long. Enjoy!

Warnings: female reader, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au, angst/comfort, arguments, insulting one another, a knife gets drawn (a butter knife), kissing, confessions, since it’s set in Valinor I used Quenya names

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: Arranged marriages when you and your millionth reason why were at each other’s throats was always the best way to introduce a new emotion on the battlefield and seek victory.

“Must you look so disparaging? It is our wedding, after all, cheer up and have a drink!” Turukáno sat beside you, or rather two feet away and towards the end of the table, leaving you to wallow in your bitterness. He managed to find your expressions throughout the entire day more entertaining than ever, it made the wedding interesting.

Casting a dreadful and bone-chilling side eye at your newlywed husband, your fingers twitched in your lap with unbridled rage to wrap them around his obnoxiously long neck and choke. However, he remained aloof under your threatening gaze and took another gulp for his sixth cup of wine for the night. Anything to avoid going home, sane, to a shared house.

“I’ll only smile if you disappear and leave me alone.”

He paused with the chalice against his lips, pondering before scoffing and taking a violent chug. Emptying the cup with an enthusiastic exhale and slamming it on the table, he reached for the vat of wine to refill. “So you can find yourself in the arms of one of your pathetic suitors or my cousins since you enjoy kissing their asses so much.”

“Anyone else would be a better company.”

“What’s stopping you then? I thought you loathed me with an unbridled passion to the point that you would do anything to make your life less miserable,” he half-heartedly muttered while gazing at the ruby liquid in his cup. “Or maybe you didn’t want to humiliate yourself knowing that no one else would accept you and your terrible personality.”

“What makes you think that one of your cousins would not accept me?”

“So it’s my cousins you’re interested in. Well, I think you and Tyelkormo or Atarinkë would suit each other well, especially with the similar personalities you all share.”

You growled through bared teeth, “Do not ill-speak of the House of Fëanáro. They are far nobler, skilled and of better status than you can ever be.”

“Ah, so you admit that your personality is dreadful then?” Awed by the revelation of your words, he flashed a blinding grin at you.

“You act as though your personality is perfect, and do not make this about me when it is not!”

“My personality isn’t perfect, but it’s better than yours,” he snickered and sat upright. “Besides, it is your wedding day, you are the centre of attention, so everything is about you.”

“You’re simply bitter and jealous that I would never choose you in a world of standards because you are as poor as your insults.” Flipping him off with a triumphant smirk, you crossed your arms and performed a mental victory dance at your comeback.

“Of course I am,” he muttered half-heartily as he slammed his chalice on the table once more and slumped deeply into his chair. As much as he wanted to leave the table, his grandfather and father were eyeing you down like hawks. “No power and no high status. Yet I was still chosen to be your future husband by the King.”

Not caring that he was being stared at, Turukáno exited the hall and rushed out of the palace to find a secluded spot for a bit of fresh air. He didn’t care about what became of you during the rest of the night. You could have returned to your parent’s house and left him alone in your supposed shared home or run off with his half-cousins, he would surely find something worthwhile to fill his time with.

Making his way through the half-empty streets of Tirion, he slid his body through a few alleyways before breaking into the hills and entering the outskirts of a small forest. A familiar path he took which led to a small pool—a place where he and Findekáno formerly commuted before his successful marriage—now became his fortress of refuge to his unbearable hater.

Being petty, bitter, and judgemental were common traits of the second son of Ñolofinwë, however, you brought the worst out in him. It was only the day you entered the picture with your desirous hatred towards him, his boring life became infuriating. There wasn’t a day you didn’t make his life a living hell.

Wanting nothing more than to refrain from continuing his thoughts on you before his head exploded, he undressed and took a midnight swim, spending the rest of his wedding with peace of mind. He would deal with you another day with the guarantee to make you regret hating him.

The first year of marriage was always described as challenging and for God’s sake how fucking true it was. You weren’t even past the first three months without wanting to launch objects at him, which you had already done numerous times before. But the point was that you wanted to launch the entire dining table at him for interrupting your peace of mind. Why did he have to show up at the same hour? Did he not have something more important to do like die?

“Can you not eat so loudly? It is breaking my concentration?” you retorted sharply.

“Then cover your ears. To eat I must; to hear, you can choose,” he lazily replied in a bored tone.

Your left eye twitched as did the cutlery in your hands as you pressed the knife and fork into the porcelain plate to evidently create a hairline fracture. Casting a look at the servants lined up on each side of the room with a monotonous expression, you felt a wave of embarrassment.

“What, no counter to my response? Finally realised how foolish you appear hating me unnecessarily?” he mocked.

Deeply inhaling, you managed, “I merely asked you to cease chewing so loudly. Is that not a possible task, something a Prince of your lowly status can adhere to?”

Countering without waiting for a second, he stated with plainness, “I must chew if I am to eat, don’t you know that or have you forgotten the fundamentals of eating?”

“Then don’t eat, starve and die.”

Turukáno’s lips twitched as he fought a sarcastic grin, instead, scoffing as his breathing fumbled before he lifted his head to gaze at you across the table. Your seated presence at the opposite end, surrounded by an array of candles left a glowing aura casting a glow on your figure to appear as some omnipotent being…a demon in sheep’s clothing.

“My dear, have you not paid attention to the tranquillity of the room? A pin drop can be heard; thus you will hear my chewing, same can be said for yours.”

“I do not chew loudly!” you snarled, visibly vibrating in your seat.

“Of course not, how rude of me. Where are my manners?” he satirically replied, casting a mocking smile at you; his turquoise eyes shining brightly under the glow of the candles. “Allow me to clarify, you yap like a goat.”

Springing from your chair, your palms came crashing down on the table, prompting the ornaments to tremble, even the servants shifted on their feet at the intemperate tension. “You should have care how you speak; it might be your last.”

“What are you planning on doing? Launching another poor object at my head and missing like you did in the last fifty attempts? Best of wishes, may your aim be true, or would you prefer I stand within three feet, so you don’t miss?” he snickered with a shake of his head.

Darkly whispered, you picked up your butter knife and stabbed it into the napkin. “I could end you right here and now,”

“How terrifying?!” he dully muttered and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Somebody save me!”

“Would you stop that!”

“Ah, so it would appear that I have struck a nerve?” Turukáno grinned delightedly and took a sip of his wine while appreciating the sight of you pointing your knife at him.

“You have been a pain in my ass since the day I met you!” you rumbled, jabbing the knife through the air towards his figure peacefully sitting unbothered.

Wanting nothing more than to bask in the glory this unnecessary argument brought, he rose from his chair and strolled around the table. Fingers gliding along the tabletop as he took his time to approach you, he appeared smug. “What you are telling me, is that I’ve always been on your mind? I’m touched. No one has ever thought of me so much as you did, my number one supporter and hater. Makes this union worthwhile because you can continue to think of me even more while allowing it to consume your every thought.”

At this point, Turukáno was standing before you as your body had turned to meet him head-on, the knife in your hand still focusing on him. Despite his towering figure, you were able to match his height with the passion in your eyes that made you grow. Those turquoise eyes of his darkened and narrowed into slits as the gazed down at you. No one dared to whisper a word, only the sound of heavy breathing which was still too soft for the other’s ears.

Suddenly, his left hand gingerly reached out to grab the wrist of your right, which held the knife and brought it to his throat. He knew you couldn’t cut him with a butter knife, yet he wanted you to realise your folly. The action urged the servants in the room to break their formation and panic as they looked on. He felt the trembling of your hand as he held onto it, steadfast, while the expression on your face spoke the reason for him. All bark and no bite.

“Do it,” he taunted with s whisper, gazing his playful eyes at your paralysed ones and pushing the knife harder against his skin.

You wanted to reply. Counter as equally as petty as his insults or even take actions, but the wheels in your body weren’t rotating. You didn’t know why, but the longer you stared into his slithered eyes; you noticed the ring of green around his iris, the small mole under his left eye and his neatly shaped wine-stained lips. His change in demeanour made him appear ridiculously attractive and you fought to deny it, but comparisons between him and the sons of Fëanáro’s beauty had already crossed your mind.

It outmatched a few of them.

You struggled to catch yourself the longer you focused on his face, grip on your knife slipping, yet the grip around your wrist tightened and tugged. Your lips parted and your head inched closer, grateful for your height, you were able to lean into his personal space, breathing in his air. Wine and spearmint. The alarms were blaring in your head that it was a precarious move you were making, but his standstill stature encouraged you to persist and bridge the gap.

Turukáno didn’t know who moved first, he or you; all he knew was that his hand gripping your wrist had tossed it over his shoulder, with the knife still intact, as his lips moulded against yours. It was full of anger, confusion and hidden truths as your bodies were entangled in an unceremonious form of solving the argument. Lips breaking apart to gasp for air, catching your breaths before returning to the task, his hands were busy cupping your cheeks to tilt your head to increase the vigour. He forgot—or rather, didn’t care—about the knife in your hands behind his neck as he pressed his body closer, wanting you to experience his heat, raging from the passion you sparked tonight.

Yet nothing was ever long-lived as you caught your biting his luscious lip and pulled away, gasping. Casting your eyes downwards, a questionable frown appeared. Unable to take the confusion and possible humiliation of the suddenness of the scene, you muttered a curt, “Excuse me,” and slipped out of his embrace, vacating the room while leaving him hoping.

You began to avoid him even more; more than what you normally would, yet failure was the start of something different. Your mornings were clashing, him showing up at the same time for breakfast, exiting and entering the house, and needing to share the same space. It was as if fate was playing a sick joke on you to remember your kiss. He appeared the same, refusing to bring it up and make any eye contact, however, his persistence to irritate and aggravate you never ended. The night of the dinner was just the beginning of him goading you to commit your desire.

Standing at the entrance of the drawing-room, you fixed your body behind the pillar that rested a vase and observed him. He appeared relaxed and a level of comfort you wished to achieve in the shared household. How was he able to be unbothered? Didn’t your presence usually provoke him? Was he not thinking about you the way you always thought about him?

“Cease your staring from behind the pillar, please. I know that I’m not the best-looking elf compared to your idolised house, so spare me your soft gaze as though you considered me,” he huffed and turned the page of his book without lifting his head to make contact.

Soft gaze?

“I was not gazing at you, I was glaring…” He was right, whether you were gazing at him or not, you were silently observing him. Clearing your throat to avoid making a fool of yourself, you stepped into the spotlight and clasped your hands together. “I was coming to call you, There’s an invitation addressed to you…and I.”

“My grandfather?”

“Hmm, a dinner party.”

The room fell into silence as you both took in the silent meaning behind the invitation. This was the first event after the wedding that would display the depth of your relationship with his family and others.

Turukáno’s eyes lifted off the pages to fall on your nervous figure standing in the doorway. No animosity or disdain was held in his eyes as they softened on your appearance; he almost felt sorry for the discomfort you were about to be placed in, similar to himself. Gatherings involving the entire family usually made him cautious and uninterested due to the typical outcomes.

“You can stay at home if you are uncomfortable attending. I’ll make up an excuse that you’re unwell and request tranquillity,” he suggested while shutting his book and placing it on the table.

Puzzled at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, you wrinkled your forehead. “What about your grandfather when he questions why you’re not at home looking after me?”

“I’ll make up some lie, whatever comes to mind,” he monotonously muttered, drifting his eyes to meet your astonished ones.

“Why?” Your question lingered heavily in the air like it weighed a ton. A sudden increase of pressure showered over you, leaving him wondering if he had made a mistake in his response to warrant your opposition.

“Why not? You’re not interested in meeting my family for known reasons, and if you want to stay at home, you are welcome to.”

“But don’t you hate me?” you delicately uttered. “You shouldn’t be concerned about how I feel or whether I desire to stay at home; you should ignore me like you have always been doing.”

Opening his mouth to counter, he closed it and dropped his gaze to your feet. The look of puzzlement decorated his face the longer he contemplated a response while reasoning with himself for the corner he was backed into. There was never a discussion he wasn’t able to counteract, but here you were causing him to fumble. A sharp look at your face, the squinting of his eyes and a nervous chuckle he conjured a response rattled off the tip of his tongue. “I don’t hate you; I don’t particularly like you, but ignoring you is incredibly difficult when you have an unmistakable aura that causes me to consider you in whatever way I can.”

His eyes widened at the acknowledgement of his words. Unable to feign his mistake, he rose immediately off the sofa and marched to the opposite exit of the drawing room.

“You…You don’t hate—”

“Forget what I said. Simply do whatever you want for the dinner, it doesn’t matter to me.” With that, he departed the room and rushed to his chamber, slamming the door.

In the following days, Turukáno had done his best to avoid you after his slip-up while you became fixated on decoding his grand speech and his nonchalance towards his actions. It wasn’t like him to use words which didn’t coordinate with his enmity-like personality. All the screaming, shouting, slamming the doors and throwing objects at each other died down, and all you received were his typical smart-ass comments which started carrying a two-meaning message. You were positively sure that he was not aware of his choice of words; he never mixed his vocabulary.

For the prim and proper Prince he was, he was enunciated.

Hence why you were gawking at him all night from behind a pillar, avoiding interactions with his siblings and cousins to observe his mannerisms. His face seemed to be a lot more relaxed, visibly pleased, lips stretched into a grin, and laughing. You had never seen him like this around you, it was a side he withheld during your arrangement, and it stung that you would never be fortunate to experience it due to his hate towards you. No sweet moments exchanged, smiles and words reserved only for you, or another kiss like that night.

Licking your lips and biting it, your fingers touched your lower lip as you held eye contact with his figure. The events of that night were still unexplainable.

“Staring at my brother.” The teasing voice of Princess Irissë came from your left before you felt her arm linking with yours and pulling you closer to her. “Well, you should be, especially after how great your relationship with him is going. Look at how much my brother is smiling; he’s talking about you.”

“Y-Your Highness?!”

“Relax. You can drop the formalities for now. It’s a family dinner and we’re all family, so call me nésa,” she laughed which resembled crystal bells tinkering.

Feeling overwhelmed by the plethora of information you consumed, your chest felt tighter all of a sudden, as though the dress shrunk. “I uh, do not understand what you mean by your brother. He is talking about me?”

Surely not good things, no wonder why he was smiling. Prattling his cousins’ heads about how terrible you were to live with. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, not realising how much you hoped for good things to be spoken about you.

“Of course he is! You’re his wife!” she exclaimed and gave you a small shake before guiding you away from the pillar. “He was asked to produce grandfather with a report at the start of the dinner in private, we were all there, and we heard him speak about how things are looking brighter, and that he’s pleased. So that means you two no longer hate each other and grandfather’s idea worked.”

Holding eye contact with her before looking at the wine in your hands, you felt uneasy at the explanation. “I guess it did,” you uttered in disbelief.

It didn’t take long for interrupting footsteps to break your concentration. Knowing the echo and presence before the voice rippled into your ear, your head snapped up to gaze at him already looking upon you with softer eyes and a tender smile. Your lips quivered as you bit back the urge to cry the longer you held his gaze, unable to focus on the sound emitting from his lips.

He was cruel and unkind to make you feel such a way.

“Is everything alright? You haven’t responded to a word I said,” he inquired worriedly, inching his head closer to yours. At this time, Irissë had slipped free and sauntered away to annoy her cousins, leaving you two to embark on your hateful-love relationship.

“I um, I.” Why was speaking so trivial? Just spit out your words for they were at the tip of your tongue. “I must speak with you, immediately.”

You had no time to witness the painful frown on his face as you swivelled and marched out of the ballroom with him following a few metres behind, confused. Exiting the room and meandering through the corridors, an earful away from eavesdroppers, you fumed in your mind at how careless you were to allow things to escalate to immeasurable heights. You couldn’t undo what had been done, not even the sea could wash it away. Though Turukáno hoped he had not said anything during the day to disrupt your tranquillity, he was most mindful of his words and behaviour due to his joviality.

“Have I said or done something to displease you, Y/N?”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” you shouted and spun on your heels to stand in the middle of the corridor and face him. “You, You, ugh, you infuriate me on levels beyond comprehension! How can you say those things so openly without disgust?”

“What things?! What have I said about you?!” he cried and took steps closer, still maintaining his distance.

“You–…I hate you! I hate how you…how you were talking about us and the house and how things are getting better! Or how you were smiling and happy and laughing and making everything seem like it is perfect and great when it’s not because I hate you!” Your temper flared as millions of reasons raced across your mind, and yet you were able to stutter out jumbled words, making a smile stretch across his face. “I hate the way you look at me with those eyes and I hate the way you look at others because you’ll never genuinely look at me like that. I want your eyes on me, but you’ll never because of how I hate you!”

“You hate me?” he questioned in an affectionate teasing voice.

“Yes, I do! Because ever since this arrangement began, you made me feel crazy and I found myself unable to think of anything else! I am utterly consumed by you, and I hate it! I’m supposed to hate you!”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe and glared at him through the crystal droplets. You knew he was looking at you the same way you wanted and hated. Your emotions were truly a bitch who couldn’t make up its mind.

Turukáno grinned and took more steps to bridge the distance between you both. Standing three feet apart, he looked down at his boots as his voice rumbled in his chest. “I know and I accept this,” he softly whispered. “I’m not the best at emotions, but I also hated you till it was aggravating. You were constantly on my mind every second of the day, consuming and leaving me thinking about you more than I breathed. I thought of everything about you, even your insults. You were able to contest me, a feat no one else could muster and still stand facing me; I enjoyed the pleasure it brought, drinking and desiring more. Then I started seeing you as my equal and no longer my source of hate, but my reason to look forward to each day. I considered you and thought about you too much, I bent the knee before you…”

Standing there baffled, you wanted to know who this individual was.

“I know, I know,” he shrugged. “I’m not great with emotions so it was impossible for you to notice my changes. I thought I was subtle, and neither are you.”

“Excuse me?! You’re telling me about how I feel?” you sniffled.

“You claim to hate me, but you don’t,” he breathed as he finally bridged the gap, standing in the same proximity as the kiss. His fingers twitched with urgency to hold you again as they remembered the last time they held you closely. “You don’t tell someone you hate them; you show them, make them feel it. And how you feel for me is what I feel for you, it was only masked by hatred.”

Scoffing with a teary eye roll, allowing a few drops to roll down your cheek, you countered with a teaspoon of attitude, “What do you know about how I feel? You’re just a foolish Prince who thinks he knows people better than themselves.”

Lifting his hands, he was allowed to cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears. Smiling along with his thoughts, he felt relieved that your flame had not been diminished. “Of course I am, but you’re no different. Foolish for hating me till it makes you look ridiculously in love.”

“You should stop talking because you’re not making any sense like you always do.”

“Then silence me if you dare.”

The silence that followed rang sharply in your ears as your eyes locked and dropped to each other’s lips.

This time, you were aware of who had made the first move when your lips moulding against one another. Grinning into the kiss, this time you were able to bite his lower lip without feeling disgusted as it only deepened the kiss, causing him to groan from your actions. Turukáno’s hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your head higher to allow him to take over the kiss while your arms contently encircled his slender waist. There were a few blissful sighs and breaks to take in air as you lazily kissed in the open corridor, unconcerned by the possibility of being trespassed upon. Regardless, Turukáno had the decency to break away first with his soft turquoise eyes roaming your face, landing on your lips one last time before exhaling.

“Tell me,” he muttered affectionately. “Do you still hate me?”

“Irrevocably.”

“And do you hate me for getting us into this arrangement?” he asked again.

“No,” you gently murmured. “I can live with it.”

“Then that is enough for me.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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Living Up To The Legacy ✈️ | Top Gun: Maverick P.1

Contains spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick

Series Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: LT. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Lt. Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell (past romance/eventual romance), Cpt. Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell (platonic), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin (platonic), Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace (platonic), pretty much every other character is a platonic pairing

Content Warnings: light angst, profanity, slight age-gap (Rooster was born in 1984, Barbara in 1989), mentions of death, spoilers for TGM | Female OC (she/her) | Wc: 10k

Premise: Nearly grounded once and for all after disobeying orders, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell is sent to North Island, California on a new assignment. The goal: teach a group of TOPGUN graduates how to work as a team and successfully destroy a uranium plant before it is fully operation. The problem, two of the candidates have a personal connection to Maverick and each other, but all are estranged. Maverick comes face to face with a new mission on his plate, one that looks nearly impossible compared to the difficult task he is to perform.

Note: So for this story, I looked it up and it says on the wiki that Rooster was born in 1984 and for this I’m making Barbara born in 1989 so they have roughly a five-ish year age-gap between them. Also considering this movie was supposed to be released in 2020, the plot I think take place in 2019 so that’s gonna be the year it is set in. Hope that makes sense and sorry for any confusion. If I made any inconsistencies, I’ll go back and fix them later on.

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“Maverick. Thirty plus years of service. Combat medals. Citations. Only man to shoot down three enemy plans in the last forty years. Distinguished. Distinguished. Distinguished,” Admiral Cain’s low voice reads off the paper. In front of him, Maverick stares ahead at attention. Once again the infamous naval pilot is faced with the consequences of his actions. This time it was going against orders to go through with testing the “Darkstar” scramjet at Mach 10.

An action which led to him pushing it, in Maverick fashion, and ultimately destroying it.

“Yet you can’t get a promotion. You won’t retire. And despite your best efforts you refuse to die. You should at least be a two star Admiral by now, if not a senator,” Cain points out. “Yet here you are. Captain. Why is that?”

There was no time to joke around, but Mav couldn’t help it. “It’s one of life’s mysteries, sir.”

“This isn’t a joke. I asked you a question,” Cain snaps with no humor in his tone.

“I’m where I belong, sir.”

“Well, the navy doesn’t see it that way,” Cain shakes his head. “Not anymore.” The sound of a jet passes by as Cain leans back in his chair. “These planes you’ve been testing, Captain, one day, sooner or later, they won’t need pilots at all. Pilots that need to sleep, eat, take a piss.” He looks back to Maverick, a slight glare in his expression. “Pilots that disobey orders. Which I hear has become a habit of yet another pilot who has taken it upon herself to live up to the Mitchell name.”

A silence passes as Maverick takes in his words. He doesn’t want to react at the mention of his daughter. The one he hadn’t seen in years. Part of him feels a sense of pride. That she is as rebellious as he was in his youth, pissing off superiors left and right. But on another note it worries him. The last thing he’d want for her is to lose her career over mistakes and disobeying.

Cain then points out the obvious, “All you did was buy some time for those men out there. The future is coming, and you’re not in it.” This has Mav looking away, not wanting to accept what the Admiral was telling him.

“Escort this man off the base,” Cain leans forward. “Take him to his quarters. Wait with him while he packs his gear. I want him on the road to North Island within the hour.”

“North Island, sir?” Mav asks with confusion. Of course he knew what lay in North Island. So why the hell was he going there?

“Call came in with impeccable timing—right as I was driving here to ground your ass once and for all,” the tone in Cain’s voice read that he was not at all happy to deliver the news—if it was up to him, Maverick would be out of the Navy for good. “It galls me to say it, but….for reasons known only to the Almighty and your guardian angel, you’ve been called back to TOPGUN.”

The look on Mavericks face was only that of shock—and probably fear. Back to Top Gun?? After thirty years?? It couldn’t be real. “Sir?”

Cain cuts him off, “You are dismissed, Captain.”

Picking his head up, blinking rapidly as he did, Maverick slowly turns on his heel. As he heads out, Cain calls to him one last time. “The end is inevitable, Maverick. Your kind is headed for extinction.”

Stopping shortly in front of the door, Mav glances to the floor before facing his now former superior. In his gaze is determination, as though it would not be the last Cain saw of him. “Maybe so sir. But not today.”

The ride to North Island was quick. Mostly because Mav was speeding if he was being honest. There was nothing like the sight of an F-18 taxiing down the runway before taking off into the horizon. It brought a smile to the pilots face, cruising down the road next to the airstrip and pumping the gas to try and beat the jet before it went airborne.

When he arrived at Fightertown located in San Diego, the first thing Maverick did was head to the building where he was to meet with his new superiors. Walking in, Mav’s eyes caught sight of a familiar picture hanging on the wall to his left. It was a black and white photograph of a young Maverick shaking hands with a man he once rivaled, after successfully shooting down enemy planes.

Where a forever friendship was formed. Where Maverick found his wingman.

Behind him, was another photo. This one showed the same man Maverick was shaking hands with, but much older with an array of ribbons signifying his accomplishments. Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, Commander of the U.S Pacific Fleet, Mav’s wingman and literal guardian angel for when he fucks up.

Smiling at the photo, Mav continues down the hallway to the meeting room he’s expected at.

“Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Your reputation precedes you,” were the words he was greeted with from the three-star admiral seated at the head of the table. Beside him was a two-star admiral.

“Thank you, sir.”

The admiral tilts his head, almost humored. “Wasn’t a compliment. I’m Admiral Beau Simpson. I’m the air boss. I believe you know Admiral Bates.”

Mav nods to the man in greeting, “Warlock, sir. Must admit, I wasn’t expecting an invitation back.”

“They’re called orders, Maverick,” Warlock corrects, albeit a small smirk on his lips. Mav sheepishly smiles, glancing to the ground. “You two have something in common,” Warlock gestures to the man beside him, “Cyclone here was first in his class back in ‘88.”

“Actually, sir, I finished second,” Mav points out. “Just want to manage expectations.” He ends with a full grin, as if he found the jab at himself funny.

Cyclone didn’t look impressed.

“The target….” Warlock leans in to redirect the subject before pressing something on the device in front of him. The screen behind Mav depicts blueprints, the Captain turning to see. “—is an unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant built in violation of a multilateral NATO treaty. The uranium produced there represents a direct threat to our allies in the region. The Pentagon has tasked us with assembling a strike team and taking it out before it becomes fully operational.”

The screen switches to a geographic model showcasing a mountain. “The plant sits in an underground bunker at the end of this valley. Said valley is GPS jammed and defended by an extensive surface-to-air missile array,” red dots light up around the mountain. They symbolize missiles protecting the bunker. “—serving a limited number of fifth generation fighters, which in turn are backed up by a plentiful reserve of surplus aircraft. Even a few old F-14s.”

“Seems like we’re not the only ones holding on to old relics,” Cyclone comments, noticing the look on Mav’s face at the sight of the old jets they used to fly back in the day.

“What’s your read, Captain?” Warlock asks, causing Mav to look intensely at the screen.

What he saw was something almost impossible. Looking at it from any angle indicated this to the esteemed pilot. It made Mav fear for the others who would be involved.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, sir, normally this would be a cakewalk for the F-35’s stealth, but the GPS-jamming negates that. And a surface-to-air threat necessitates a low-level laser-guided strike tailor made for the F-18. I figure,” he pauses to think. “Two precision bombs, minimum. Makes it four aircraft flying in pairs.” Cyclone and Warlock share a look, while Mav points a finger at the mountain. “That is one hell of a steep climb out of there, exposing you to all the surface-to-air missiles. You survive that, it’s a dogfight all the way home.”

“All requirements for which you have real-world experience,” Warlock says, causing Mav to glance at him.

“Not the same mission, sir.” He turns back to the screen, deep in thought. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the odds were not in their favor for this type of mission. “No, someone’s not coming back from this.”

“Can it be done or not?” Cyclone questions, wanting to hurry up and finish the meeting. Time was at the essence and they needed to get started.

“How soon before the plant becomes operational?”

“Three weeks,” Warlock answers. “Maybe less.”

Bidding one last look to the screen, Maverick turns to face the Admirals. Oblivious to what they really wanted him there for. In his mind, he was the man tasked with leading the mission. “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve flown an F-18, and…I’m not sure who I’d trust to fly the other three.” He continues talking, not noticing the look Cyclone gives Warlock which has the latter interrupting him. “But I'll find a way to make it work—.”

“I think you misunderstand, Captain.”

This has Mav confused, “Sir?”

“We don’t want you to fly it,” Cyclone tells him. “We want you to teach it.”

Now that was the last thing the man expected. “Teach, sir?” Teaching and Maverick were not something to be used in the same sentence. He learned that quickly in his two months as instructor….thirty years prior.

His superiors both give a sigh, before Cyclone switches the screen on the projector. “We’ve recalled twelve Top Gun graduates from their squadrons.” Two rows of photos appeared showing the selected graduates in their flight jumpsuits. Each had their name along with their call sign located at the bottom. “We want you to narrow that pool down to six.”

Maverick let his eyes scan the photos, reading over the names after getting a look at each face they belonged to. BOB, OMAHA, HALO, YALE, HARVARD, FANBOY, PAYBACK, COYOTE, HANGMAN, PHOENIX. And then his attention was brought to the last two on the far right, making his heart sink as he read ROOSTER and LEGACY.

It was like the universe was out to get him. Digging up bones that could never be buried no matter how much he tried to fix the past. The boy with the golden hair and mustache, making him look like a carbon copy of his dad, Goose. Mavericks lost wingman who he still blames himself for his death. And the girl he failed as a father, a spitting image of his own self with matching blue-green eyes and black hair.

He hadn’t seen either in years. And if what Ice told him was true about what happened to their relationship, then Mav was at a loss to even attempt to approach the subject with his daughter. She never called. Never sent a text. Or even an email. But Maverick couldn’t blame her.

“They’ll fly the mission.” Cyclone’s voice brought him out of his inner battle with his thoughts. The admiral notices the clench of his jaw, and distant look in his eye as he turns away from the screen. “Is there a problem, Captain?”

The condescending tone nearly had Maverick walking out of the room. “You know there is, sir.”

“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly, tapping the tablet with his finger. The screen pulls up the image of Rooster and all his information. “Bradley Bradshaw, aka ‘Rooster.’ I understand you used to fly with his old man. What was his call sign?” Of course the admiral knew, but he wanted Maverick to tell him anyway.

The pain in the Captain's heart was clear as he said aloud, “‘Goose’, sir.”

“Tragic what happened.”

“Captain Mitchell was cleared of any wrongdoing,” Warlock interjects, feeling sympathy for the pilot. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose one’s wingman. “Goose’s death was an accident.”

“Is that how you see it, Captain,” Cyclone asks before gesturing to the screen. It was clear he was getting under Mavericks skin. And it was working. “Is that how Goose’s son sees it?” Before the pilot could answer, Cyclone changed the screen to the next image.

The woman staring back at them had dark black hair cut in a sleek bob that fell just above her chin. She had strong cheekbones and jawline, dark brows framing what Maverick knew were bright blue-green eyes—which were grey in contrast to the colorless photo—and plump lips like her mother. She wasn’t smiling in her photo. When thinking about it, Mav couldn’t remember the last time he saw his daughter smile.

Once again Cyclone’s voice caught his attention. “Lieutenant Barbara Mitchell. Better known as ‘Legacy,’ which is something she certainly lives up to. Your daughter's reputation nearly rivals that of your own, Captain.”

Mavericks lips curl up, “so I’ve heard.”

Cyclone grimaces while Warlock smirks. It was already a handful having one Mitchell at Top Gun. Add a second and there surely would be chaos of some sort. But, they were the best of the best. Literally. Barbara Mitchell lived up to the legacy of her family in every aspect there was.

There was also another subject to note in regards to the three—Maverick, Rooster, and Legacy—being called back to Top Gun. “It’s my understanding Rooster and Legacy are—I’m sorry, were spouses. Or has the divorce not been finalized?”

Maverick grimaced, glancing away with his jaw clenched. So what Ice told him was true. It pained the aviator to know the two didn’t last. It was never easy being a couple where both were in the military, let alone fighter pilots and on top of that Maverick felt an underlying reason for their relationship ended was in regards to him.

It had been nearly two years since Ice told him Barb had filed for separation. Knowing his daughter, Mav knew she’d want to cut the ribbon loose instead of drawing it out and going to court so he expected the divorce was quick. Cyclone was just trying to piss him off. Mav wouldn’t put it past him to know they were in fact divorced.

Instead of answering the Admiral, he changed the topic to a more important matter. “With all due respect, sir, I’m not a teacher.” It didn’t work the last time, he doubted it would again.

“You were a Top Gun instructor before.”

“That was almost thirty years ago. I lasted two months,” He replied, trying to show it was a bad idea to give him the job. “It’s not where I belong.”

“Then let me be perfectly blunt,” Cyclone started, not showing really any sympathy. “You were not my first choice. In fact, you weren’t even on the list. You are here at the request of Admiral Kazansky.” Ah, Ice saves the day once again. “Now, Iceman happens to be a man I deeply admire, and he seems to think that you have something left to offer the Navy,” he pauses to shake his head.

“What that is, I can’t imagine. You don’t have to take this job. But let me be clear: this will be your last post, Captain. You fly for Top Gun, or you don’t fly for the Navy ever again.”

And just like that, Maverick was back at Top Gun. Whether he liked it or not.

Later that night Maverick ended up sitting at the bar at the local tavern ‘The Hard Deck.’ Two Lieutenants he recognized as the recruits Hangman and Coyote were tossing darts. Mav watched them for a while until he passed a few texts between him and Ice. Then to his surprise, the lady behind the bar was none other than his former flame, Penny.

He thought the conversation was going well….until she rang the bell. “Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cell phone on my bar,” Mav recited as he lifted his phone off the bar.

“And you buy a round,” Penny finished for him, a mischievous smile coating her lips.

With a hesitant look, Mav glanced around, “For everyone?” He questioned.

“I’m afraid rules are rules. You’re lucky it’s early.” Mav watched her walk away, smiling with a light blush to his cheeks. Every time he saw Penny, something in him stirred like he was a giddy teenager again.

“What do we have here?” The sound of Hangman’s voice called his attention. He followed the blonde’s gaze to a trio of officers entering the bar. A female lieutenant walked ahead of the two guys behind her. Mav recognized them as Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback.

“If it ain’t Phoenix!” Hangman lifted the cue up and walked beside the table to greet them. “And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone.”

Lt. Trace, aka Phoenix just smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fellas, this here’s Bagman.”

“Hangman,” he corrected.

“Whatever,” her tone indicated she didn’t care. “You’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

Hangman smiled, obviously feeling the inflation to his ego. “Stop.” He really didn’t want her to.

The tables then turned. “Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War,” Phoenix points out, playing down on his accomplishment.

“Cold War,” Coyote jumps in.

“Different wars, same century,” Lt. Fitch counters.

“Not this one,” says Lt. Garcia.

Coyote gestures to the two with a pool cue in his hand. “Who are your friends?”

“Payback,” Fitch tells him and Garcia follows with, “Fanboy.”

“Hey, Coyote,” Phoenix greets.

“Hey,” he replies with a smirk. The woman nudges her head to the right, “who’s he?”

“Who’s who?” All eyes draw to the Lieutenant brushing something off some peanut shells off his uniform seated by the pool table. When he notices them looking at him he freezes. Coyote is the first to speak, “When did you get in?”

The blonde man with glasses smiles sheepishly, “Oh, I've been here the whole time.” At no point did the group notice the man, who was munching on some peanuts and watching the interaction play out.

“The man’s a stealth pilot,” Hangman comments and Coyote agrees, “Literally.”

“Weapons systems officer, actually,” he politely corrects. It causes Hangman to nod his head, “With no sense of humor,” and hand off the pool cue to Phoenix.

“What do they call you,” She asks. There’s an immediate blush to his cheeks when he answers, “Bob.”

“No, your call sign,” Payback rephrases. Again, the blonde man appears embarrassed, “Uhh….Bob.”

The name rings a bell for the female aviator, “Bob Floyd. You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore.” Beside her, Fanboy was lightly laughing.

Bob smiles at her, “Looks like it. Yeah.” She looks him over, as if to read him and gives a nod before handing him the cue, “nine-ball, Bob. Rack ‘em.” He stared at the cue, not really expecting to be included in the game. “Okay,” he eventually says while getting up from the chair.

Over at the bar, Hangman goes to cash in on the round bought by Maverick. “Penny, my dear.”

“Yeah,” she says, going up to him.

“I’ll have four more on the old-timer,” his eyes meet Maverick as he orders. The older man shakes his head when Penny gives him a look while going to grab the beers. A few moments later his attention is again drawn to the entrance of the bar when Phoenix loudly calls out to a patron.

A patron Maverick had yet to reunite with.

“Bradshaw!” She yells, capturing the young Lieutenant’s eyes. “Is that you?” At the bar, Maverick turns his back away, preventing Rooster from seeing him when he walks to the group. The woman gives an offended look when he approaches, “This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

The aviator sunglasses are removed and tucked into his shirt. “Yeah, I just thought I’d surprise you.” He comes up behind Phoenix as she lines up the shot.

“Hmm.” Bending down, Phoenix draws the cue back and makes direct contact with Rooster’s gut. He grunts, the woman pushing the cue forward to hit the ball and letting it shoot across the table. Rooster bends, clutching his stomach with a pained expression. “I guess I surprised you back.”

Squinting, Rooster lifts his gaze to her and smiles as best as he can, “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” she replies, her smile then falling. “Do you know if—.” The shake of his head cuts Phoenix off from finishing the sentence.

“We’ll find out sooner or later,” he stands straight, glancing at the other pilots around them. “I wouldn’t be surprised with this many of us called back, she would be too.”

Back at the bar, Penny handed Hangman four beers, courtesy of Mav’s round. “Here you go,” she says as he takes the bottles. The Lieutenant thanks her before turning to Mav to say, “Much appreciated, Pops.” He ends with a wink and turns back to return to the group.

Mav nods briefly, letting his gaze go past the blonde to focus on the man in the Hawaiian shirt behind him. Rooster’s back was to him, and wanting to get out of there before the young man noticed, Mav pulled out his card for Penny. “How about ringing me up before the evening rush?”

With a smirk, Penny goes to the register, leaving the pilot to himself once again. A few times he checks the entrance to see if Barbara had arrived. So far half of the recruits had shown up, Mav was prepared to get a glimpse of his daughter before heading out.

Changing the song on the jukebox and handing the beers over to Coyote, Hangman lands his sight on Rooster. “Bradshaw,” he draws out, snatching the cue from Bob before the Lieutenant could take the shot. “As I live and breathe.”

“Hangman,” Rooster returns, looking him over. “You look…good.” Nudging Bob aside, Hangman lines up his cue with the ball, “Well, I am good, Rooster.” The two connect eyes just as he draws the cue back and hits the ball, “I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”

The arrogance from the man has Phoenix and Payback shaking their heads, both turning to Rooster. “So,” Payback starts to say, “Anybody know what this special detachment is all about?”

“No, mission’s a mission,” Hangman replies, not taking his gaze off the pool table. “They don’t confront me. What I want to know: who’s gonna be team leader?” The balls clatter when he takes another shot after successfully pocketing the last ball. “And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

The look Rooster gives is one that reads, ‘you can’t be serious right now.’ “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Though the music is playing it feels like one could hear a pin drop.

“Whoo!” Fanboy whistles, not even trying to hide the giggles falling from his lips. Phoenix was clutching the pool cue, staring at Rooster as if she could not believe he really said that. If Hangman was bothered, the man was doing a good job of not showing it. He simply grinned, walking up to Rooster and stopping so close they were practically toe to toe with one another.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment…” Hangman steps closer, putting the cue in between them before finishing, “That never comes.” The next words to come from his mouth were cold and calculated, but what was that to stop him. Jake looks down to see Rooster’s left hand, where it was now vacant of a gold ring. “It’s a shame about you and the Missus—or should I say, former missus.”

That same hand then clutched into a fist, but that’s all it did. Behind Jake, Phoenix was glaring daggers into his back, checking on Rooster for his reaction while the others looked confused. It took a moment to realize what the blonde was implying. Hangman ramped up the tension when he added, “Say, you know I always wondered why her call sign was ‘Legacy.’ Interesting name. She wouldn’t tell me but said it had to do with her maiden name,” Hangman bites his lip while grinning, “Now that she’s not lady Bradshaw anymore, I’m looking forward to finding out the reason.”

“Watch it, Seresin,” Phoenix warned, but he ignored her. Rooster was her friend, and so was Barbara despite knowing Rooster longer. She didn’t appreciate the man making snide comments about their failed relationship.

When it appeared Rooster was not going to say anything back, Hangman smirked in a slight victory. “I love this song.” ‘Slow ride. Take it easy.’ As he walked away, Phoenix approached Rooster, both of them watching him as he went.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” she says with no surprise.

“Nope,” he agrees, jaw still clenched from the last jab Hangman threw at him. “Sure hasn’t.” Getting an idea, Rooster walks away, leaving Phoenix by the table. She wanted to ask if he was alright, but decided against it.

Fanboy comes up to her, confusion coating his expression. “What the hell was that all about?” He gestures to Rooster and Hangman. Fanboy didn’t know either of them, but his curiosity peaked at the mention of someone called ‘Legacy’. “Who’s Legacy?”

Phoenix let out a sigh, setting the pool cue aside. “Rooster’s ex-wife, Barbara. She’s a naval pilot too—graduated from Top Gun three years ago right after their divorce.” Fanboy whistled lowly, not expecting that information.

“Damn. How long were they together?”

“Over seven years—married for five. They tied the knot after her commission, Rooster was already done with flight school by then. I think they dated for about two years before he proposed. Not really sure on the exact dates.”

Fanboy frowns, “What happened?” Phoenix glances over to Rooster who was walking in the direction of the jukebox. She gives a shrug and says, “He won’t say. Doesn’t really like to talk about it.” Fanboy nods, feeling sympathy for his fellow aviator.

“Why ‘Legacy’? That’s an usual call sign.” When he thought of the word, what came to mind was sorority girls or frat brothers who had parents in Greek life.

“Something about her family,” Phoenix answers. So he was right, it did have to deal with a parent. “She never talked much about her parents, but she told me once her mother was a civilian contractor for Top Gun and her dad was a pilot. Also her grandpa served, as did her Godfather. I guess in flight school that information spread, someone called her legacy and it stuck.”

Fanboy took in the information. He could understand how something like that would bestow that kind of call sign. It honestly intrigued him. Before he could ask another question, something else caught his eye. Gesturing to the entrance he said, “Check it out. More patches.”

Payback stands from the chair, coming up behind the two to see some fellow aviators, “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha.”

“What the hell kind of mission is this?” Fanboy questions, curious to know what he got himself into when he agreed to come back to North Island. Never had there been so many Top Gun graduates called back. The mission had to be a serious one.

“That’s not the question we should be asking,” Phoenix says to her fellow pilot. “Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?”

The card slaps down in front of Maverick, “It’s been declined,” Penny tells him. He gives a look of bewilderment, “You’re kidding.” There was no way it was empty. Had he not transferred over funds? Or did his last paycheck not go through?

Groans sounded around when the music was abruptly cut off. The culprit, none other than Rooster himself. Sunglasses on, despite being indoors, the aviator takes a seat in front of the piano, fingers go over the keys to play a light jazz. Phoenix hears the tone, smiling lightly as she calls out, “hey, guys. Come on.” Together they join Rooster, tossing the cue onto the table causing Hangman to throw his hands out as if to say, ‘Really?’

Meanwhile at the bar, Maverick is in a pickle. Not only was his card declined, but he was short on cash. Fishing out some 1s, and 5s, Penny just shakes her head at him, handing over the bill, “That won’t cover it.”

Taking the bill, his eyes go wide at the number listed at the bottom. Even before the evening rush there was a good amount of people in attendance. All who ordered a round on his tab. Trying to coax his way to a deal, Mav gives Penny a puppy-like look, “Uh, I’ll come by tomorrow and bring you the cash.”

A finger lifts to him, the woman moving over to the bell, “I’m afraid rules are rules, Pete.” Before he can plead with her, Penny swings the rope and lets the bell ring, resulting in the entire bar erupting in cheers. They begin to chant ‘overboard’ as Maverick lets his head drop in defeat, although he’s smiling throughout the entire exchange. “Really?”

Hangman, Payback, and Coyote pull up behind him, all three waiting for Penny’s signal. With a simple nod to the entrance, Maverick is hauled up with Payback and Hangman on each arm while Coyote takes his legs. All around are cheers and claps, “Overboard! Overboard!”

“Great to see you, Pete!” Penny shouts, grinning from ear to ear as he disappears from her sights. His back meets the harsh sand, a grunt escaping him while everyone cheers. Hangman salutes him, unaware that in less than 24 hours the man he just threw out would be his superior. “Thanks for the beers! Come back anytime!” The door shuts behind them, muffling the cheers as they continue in the now crowded tavern. All Mav could do was chuckle, brushing the sand off him when he rises from the ground.

He starts walking in the direction of his bike, but comes to a sudden halt when a familiar song reaches his ears.

“You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain.

Too much love. Drives a man insane.

You Broke my will. But what a thrill.

Goodness gracious! Great balls of fire!”

Mav walks up to the window, peeking in to find Rooster seated at the piano while his fellow recruits dance and belt along the lyrics beside him. Goose’s favorite song. The one they sang together at the bar the time Carole and Bradley visited during their programme.

“I laughed at love. ‘Cause I thought it was funny.

But you came along. And you moved me, honey.

I changed my mind. This love is fine.

Goodness gracious! Great balls of fire!”

For a moment, it was no longer 2019. It was 1986 and a two year old Bradley Bradshaw was seated on top of the piano with a cowboy hat perched on his tiny head while his father, Nick, played the instrument below. In Nick’s lap was his beloved wife and Bradley’s mother, Carole, and beside them belting along the lyrics of ‘Great Balls Of Fire,’ was Pete and Charlie.

A happy memory, plagued with the tragic moment that occurred days later. Goose and Mav ejecting from the jet, but the canopy failing to open properly causing Goose to smash his head against the glass. The impact alone was enough to kill him. The man laid in Maverick’s arms as they floated in the water waiting to be rescued. He knew Goose was gone.

“God, he loved flying with you, Maverick,” he could still hear Carole’s pained voice as he watched her son. The happiness radiating from him was a spitting image of his father. The pilot had to look away, for there were tears welting in his eyes. Unbeknownst to him, Penny saw him from inside the bar, her gaze flicking from Maverick to Goose, realizing who the young man was to the aviator.

Feeling his knees start to buckle, Maverick pushed away from the window, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Reaching up, he wiped away any residue that leaked out before walking away. The sun was setting, casting a dark blue across the horizon as nightfall began to emerge. The Captain made his leave. As he approached the parking lot where his bike was, he stopped short when he noticed the bike parked next to him.

It was the Ducati he gifted Barbara when she got her motorcycle license at eighteen.

“I should’ve known it’d be you,” her voice came from the side, sending a wave of anxiety through Maverick as he stiffened. It had been so long since he heard it, and when he slowly turned to find her seated at the picnic table, Mav felt his shoulders drop.

Recently promoted Lieutenant Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell stared back at him with an unreadable expression. A cigarette in hand and aviators perched on her head, the black haired beauty adorned a leather jacket similar to Mav’s with several patches lining its sides. A patch with her call sign was nested on her left breast reading, ‘Legacy’.

“Barb,” he whispered, watching her take a puff of the cigarette and holding her breath before slowly letting the smoke out. He hated the fact she smoked, and part of him believed she did it to spite him.

The woman didn’t greet her father. Instead she pointed her gaze at the beach in front of her, “When Ice told me I was being called back here, and what all to expect, I should’ve known he’d have you as the instructor. What I didn’t expect,” more smoke left her mouth, eyes going back to the man, ''was you to actually agree.”

Unsure of what to say, seeing it was going on four years since he’d seen his daughter, Mav cleared his throat, “Didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“Let me guess,” she raised her brow, but there was not a flicker of surprise as she added, “You went against orders, pissed off an Admiral, was probably gonna get sacked once and for all, and being here is what lets you stay in the air. Am I on the right track?”

Mav bit back a smirk. Barb knew him too well—well, at least knew his routine. Instead he gave a curt nod, glancing at the ocean briefly, “Can’t really say you’re not. You know me too well.”

“I don’t know you at all,” she snaps, causing the smile to drop from his face. Barb extinguishes the bud on the table and flicks it into the trash beside the table. “I know Captain Mitchell. The Navy’s infamous pilot with a record that’s distinguished despite his tendencies to act unorthodox. That’s all I’ve ever known from you.”

As much as he hated to admit it, it was the truth. The relationship between Charlie and Maverick fell through shortly after Barabara’s birth in 1989. Due to his status as a fighter pilot and rarely being stateside, Barbara was raised in D.C with her mother, Charlie. It was rare for Maverick to get time off and visit his daughter. Mostly in the summertime or around the holidays did he manage to get a few days of leave, but on average it was twice a year that Barabar spent time with her father. And when she did, all Mav did was take Barbara flying and teach her all there was about the Navy and their family.

It was how she fell in love with aviation. It made her feel a connection to her father, something she longed for as a child. Her mother taught her a lot about astrophysics and engineering, but Barbara loved to take to the skies. From a young age she knew she wanted to follow her father’s footsteps and continue his legacy. She thought it was what he wanted. Why he spent so much time teaching her the basics on how to fly and expressing his love for the Navy.

But that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want her flying. The same way he didn’t want Bradly flying either.

And that started the first wave of strain between father and daughter. The second wave came when Barb joined the Naval ROTC program at Vanderbilt university. Had she applied for the Naval Academy her father would’ve known. So, she applied to schools with NROTC and kept it from him until the letter came from Vanderbilt with a full ride to their program. Barbara would’ve kept her entire college career a secret, but her father managed to find out from her mother. That put a second dent in their relationship.

Shortly after Barbara reconnected with Bradley when the Naval Academy played Vanderbilt in football. It had been years since they saw each other, the last being around the time he had graduated high school and first applied to the Naval Academy. She never heard what had happened, so it surprised her to see him there as an undergraduate when she had expected him to already be a commissioned officer. He was a senior already in his mid twenties while Barb was a sophomore having just turned twenty.

Their reunion was anything but a happy one which had Barb confused. Bradley was displeased to see her and pretty much ignored her when she tried to talk to him. Eventually he got his head out of his ass when she went off on him by saying, “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Bradshaw, but if has anything to do with my dad—which wouldn’t surprise me— then it’s unfair to treat me like this since I don’t know what the fuck he did to make you this angry.” Believing her words, Bradley invited her to lunch to explain what happened. It angered Barbara, for who was her father to have the right to do such a thing to Bradley.

Although they two didn’t see each other much after that weekend, the two kept in touch through email and phone calls. They would update each other on school and their programs, Bradley’s upcoming graduation, and their excitement to go to flight school and start their careers. Barbara wasn’t sure when her feelings for Bradley started. He was older, roughly by six or seven years and she only ever saw him once in a blue moon growing up whenever she’d fly to visit her dad when he’d try to spend time with both Bradley and her. As a young girl she found Bradley cute, but he of course paid no mind to her except when she’d join in on little adventures with him and Maverick. All she knew was she’d get butterflies in her stomach whenever he laughed at something she said or recounted a small detail she told him weeks prior. Then when he sent an invite to his graduation, Barbara swore her heart skipped a beat and she was doing the most in order to look her best the day of.

For Bradley, he realized his feelings for Barbara about eight months after their first meeting. He suddenly found himself looking forward to their phone calls, reading her emails, and felt a longing to see her again. It’s why he invited her to his graduation. And then again to his commissioning ceremony. Seeing her there, looking absolutely ethereal, sealed the deal for Bradley. At his commission he formally asked her out and thus started their relationship that lasted almost eight years.

Bradley went straight to flight school, and Barb followed two years later after her graduation and commissioned—which Bradley got time off to attend. At some point—probably when the two were drunk and in a festive mood, Bradley proposed. It was a spur of the moment decision, but he loved Barbara with his whole heart. And she loved him too. Once Barb said yes, the two went on a whim and drove up to the courthouse with Charlie and Natasha as their witnesses.

Maverick had no idea. It wasn’t until he popped in to visit Barbara out of the blue at her first duty station, hoping to make amends for the way he behaved four years earlier, and found Rooster there….and rings on their fingers. One photo of them at the courthouse combined with Barbara’s embarrassed expression was enough to put the pieces together. Rooster took it upon himself to leave saying he’d be back later that afternoon, but not before kissing her right there in front of Mav.

And so a third and permanent dent was put between the two. One that was not so easily forgiven. “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me? Did you not want me there?” “It’s not like you would have come, Pete.” “You don’t know that!” “Fine, here’s the truth: Rooster didn’t want you there and honestly neither did I. We’re happy, and I don’t need your seal of approval on what I do. You were rarely there for me and when you were all it was ‘planes this, planes that’ and ‘Navy this, Navy that.’ You didn’t bother actually being a father, Pete.” Yeah, it was true when they said words hurt.

It only brought more strain. Soon it would impact her own relationship. Barbara completed flight school and unfortunately like most military marriages where both parties are active duty, the two were separated on different assignments. They made it work for the most part. Everyday they texted or emailed and when they got time to call or Skype they would. By that time Barbara had garnered her own reputation in the Navy, not just because of who her father was, but because she herself tended to act unorthodox. It was no wonder why her fellow aviators in flight school dubbed her ‘Legacy’. She didn’t know how they found out about her parentage, at the time she went by Barbara Bradshaw, but it didn’t matter. They’d find out sooner or later.

But the topic of Maverick would come up and each time it never ended well. Rooster still held resentment for him pulling his application. For Barbara, as much as she was angry at her father for various reasons, she still loved him. There was still a longing to have that father-daughter relationship she desired as a kid. When talking to her mother about it, Charlie offered the advice of, ‘It won’t be fixed if you do nothing about it. Talk to him, hear him out, and also take responsibility for your actions.” That night Barbara called Maverick, without telling her husband, and had a two hour conversation with her apologizing for not telling him about Rooster and Mav for his reaction to her career plans.

Barbara eventually told Rooster about her conversation with her father that weekend over Skype. She was hesitant, and judging by the look on his face when she told him she was correct to assume he would not be happy. All he said was, “You know how I feel about him. I’m not gonna stop you from talking to your dad, Barb, that’s on you. But I just ask that you don’t expect me to forgive him anytime soon.”

Years passed and things had slowly become complicated. Rooster went off to Top Gun, Barb was promoted to LTJG, and their jobs became more demanding. Although they finally got a duty station together, they hardly spent time together. At one point the topic of kids came up after a colleague had mentioned it at a dinner party. It resulted in it never being brought up again. If they wanted kids, well, one person would have to either leave the Navy or change their job because having both parents as fighter pilots while raising kids was impossible. And neither of them were ready to give that up just yet. In the last year of their marriage, they would go days without talking to each other, even if they were both home.

The year 2016 proved to be the one that would ultimately end the relationship once and for all. And it was because Barb had finally had enough with the deal between Maverick and Rooster and took it upon herself to confront her father. A decision she would regret.

“Tell me,” she demanded as they sat in a booth at a bar close to the base. Maverick had gotten leave and decided to drop by, so Barb used what little time she had as the opportunity to get the truth. “Tell me why you pulled his application, dad. Why would you stop him from flying when you knew that’s all he ever wanted to do?”

She watched him bring a hand up to rub his face. “You don’t want to know, Barb.” His words only angered her more, the woman scoffing as she narrowed her eyes.

“The hell I don’t! Bradley trusted you—he looked at you like a father, and you betrayed him like that?” She refused to accept that Maverick would hurt the man he saw as a son without good reason. If there was a good reason for it.

“He wasn’t ready,” Mav gave the excuse, though it had some truth to it.

“That wasn’t for you to decide,” she snapped, leaning forward against the table slightly. “And even if it was, that still isn’t a good excuse to pull his papers. You’re hiding something else.” Barb could see it in the way he kept turning from her, clenching his jaw, and attempting to change the subject. There was another reason behind why he did it.

“Look,” Mav sighed, giving his daughter a stern warning. “If you knew the real reason why I did what I did, you wouldn’t want him knowing either. So by telling you, you’re putting yourself in a position where you can either break his heart with the truth,” he paused, hating how there was now an ultimatum on the table. “Or, you spare him the pain by taking it to the grave.”

Barbara should have let it go after Mav dropped that on her. But, like the stubborn pilot, the young Mitchell was relentless and believed it was up to her then to decide for herself. Initially, she was going to tell Rooster the truth because she believed he deserved to know. But then the words came out, and Barb felt her heart and stomach sink as it went down the drain. There was no way she could tell Rooster now, and judging by Mavericks' expression the older man immediately regretted confessing. And she didn’t blame him because now she felt the burden of the secret.

For months Barbara kept it hidden. Rooster was overseas on an assignment and would not be back for some time. When they would call, Barb played it off like normal. Although they ended up doing voice calls rather than Skype, her excuse being the internet service was acting up. Barb felt it in herself that she’d break if she looked into those hazel eyes of his. She proved herself correct when he returned at the end of the summer and immediately Rooster could tell something was up. Her body language was off, the tone in her voice sounded unsure.

“What is it?” He asked a few days later, catching her off guard. In the five years they’d been married and almost seven as a couple, Bradley was pretty much a pro at picking up on signals from his wife. Barbara was stubborn and good at masking her emotions, but the man could see past it. “You’ve been acting weird since I got here.”

“It’s nothing, Bradley,” Barb assured, but her voice betrayed her. Quickly she gave the excuse, “I’ve had a long week. The test run I mentioned last week didn’t go as planned. That’s it.” She felt his eyes in the back of her head as she washed the dishes in the sink.

“Whenever something is bothering you and you don’t want to tell me, you always turn your back to me so I can’t see your face.” The patter of feet against the wooden floors indicated he was walking up to her. “You can’t fool me, Barbara.” What followed involved a screaming match, accusations, and finally, Bradley packing a bag before slamming the front door behind him.

There was no formal separation between the two. Hell it wasn’t even a verbal agreement of divorce. For weeks Bradley ignored her calls, her emails, he had his friends give excuses when Barb reached out to them to get him to talk to her. Then one day she decided to go to his work, fed up with him ignoring her and witnessed him getting a little close with a female colleague. All Barb could see was Bradley leaning against the wall while a pretty blonde stood next to him, laughing at something he said before lightly tapping him against the chest. The gesture looked anything but friendly. And judging by the smirk on her husband's face, he enjoyed it.

It sent daggers into Barbara’s heart, turning on her heel to escape before he saw her. She cried the entire drive home, but took a break to put on a serious face when she stopped at the legal office before making a call to her Godfather, Iceman. The next day, to Bradley’s surprise and the shock of his coworkers, he was served divorce papers. When he arrived at the house that afternoon to confront her, another shock came at the sight of boxes and suitcases where Barbara informed him she was being transferred to the Pacific Fleet.

That was the last night Barbara and Bradley saw each other. Harsh words were thrown at each other—the woman literally threw a water bottle at Rooster during the heat of the argument when he insulted her. He easily avoided it, but the act itself increased his anger. Once again Bradley was the first to leave, but not before he signed the papers and spat, “Have a nice life, Mitchell.”

Talk about adding salt to the wound. It didn’t help that Barbara hadn’t spoken to her father in months. Months that would soon turn to years.

Now here the two were. Finally face to face after so long with little to no explanation why Barbara suddenly stopped talking to Maverick after the day she squeezed the truth out of him. The music from inside continued. Even outside, Barbara could make out the voice of her ex-husband. He always stood out when he sang that song.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” She says, reaching into her pocket to pull out another cigarette. Using her jacket to block out the wind, she ignites it before pocketing the lighter. “I saw you at the window.”

Mav felt a lump in his throat, looking down at his feet. Goose entered his mind and the wave of emotion hit him like a brick. He changed the subject, which probably was a bad idea but he had to take the chance while he had it. “What happened, Barbara?”

She doesn’t look at him when she answers, jaw tight and attention on the empty beer bottle in front of her. “Exactly what you said,” the chuckle she gave was anything but humorous. “I did it to myself. You were right—I should’ve never asked you why you did it.”

Maverick sighed, feeling his heart break at her confession. “I’m so sorry, honey. Does he—.”

“No,” she cut him off swiftly. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. That's why he walked out.” Biting her lip and looking away from her father, she adds, “And I let him. Because I knew deep down he would never forgive me—for not telling him after I went behind his back and confronted you. It brought on another dose of betrayal.” Barbara finishes her second cigarette with a long drag before extinguishing it.

“It wasn’t going to work anyway,” Barbara stands from the picnic table, moving to stand in front of Maverick. She was wearing heeled boots that made her taller than her natural five foot two and a half inch stature. She was small for the average pilot, but made the height requirements by half an inch. “You know how it is—husband and wife, both active duty in demanding fields with little to no time spent together. The topic of kids being a sore subject, plus a father-in-law that the husband can’t stand? I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.”

“Don’t think of it like that, Barbara,” Maverick scolded, upset with her view of the marriage. Frowning, he stepped closer to the woman, but she shook her head.

“How else am I supposed to think of it?” She questioned rhetorically. “It didn’t work for you and mom, it wasn’t going to work for me and him.”

“What happened between your mom and I was complicated,” Mav told her. “We tried our best that year after you were born, and most of it was on me as you know.” He really did try. He loved and cared for Charlie, but marriage was not in the cards for Mav at the time. It was still young in his career and although the birth of Barbara was a surprise, he still was over the moon and tried to make the relationship work for the sake of their daughter. In the end, he and Charlie wanted different things and had to go their separate ways. “But I never stopped caring for Charlie—and I’ll always have a part of me that loves her. And just because it didn’t work out for us, doesn’t mean it will always be like that for you, Barbara.”

She was silent for a moment. Maverick stood still, unsure of what she was thinking. He wanted to hug her. It was tempting to just pull her into his arms and hold her like he did when she was a child. It had been so long since they did that he feared how she’d react. Pushing the thought away, Mav heard her exhale and say, “It doesn’t matter anymore. There’s other things to worry about than my tragic love life. I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.”

It felt like a knife was thrown to his chest. It was always like that when Barbara referred to him as his rank or name instead of ‘dad’. It was like she no longer saw him as such. “Barbara!” He shouted as she mounted her bike and kicked the stand up. Glancing up to him, her face remained stoic. With a slight cough to clear his throat, Mav tried to smile but it didn’t work. Instead his face almost looked like he was pleading with her to not push him away again. “It’s good to see you.”

The light breeze swept through her hair, and Barbara gave a short nod. “It’s good to see you too.” The roar of the engine came to life and Mav watched her pull away from the lot before speeding down the road and disappearing around the corner. The sun had finally set, stars twinkling in the sky and the only light was from the moon shining down on the sea and the bar behind him.

With a heavy sigh, the pilot adjusted his jacket and mounted his own bike. He gave one last look to the bar before starting the engine and taking off on the same road Barbara had traveled.

What a day it had been for the veteran aviator. It started with him getting transfered, returning to Top Gun for the first time in 30 years, reuniting with his ex, and finally seeing Rooster and Barbara again. Now with one reunion down, he had one to go.

The next morning, Barbara Mitchell dressed in her flight suit to start her day by attending the first briefing and training. She didn’t know what to expect. After the previous night's conversation with her father and knowing he was to be the instructor for the next three weeks, Barbara realized she was going to have to push her limits like she’s never done before if she wanted to prove she was worthy of the mission.

Growing up, Maverick taught her the basics and how to perfect them so that by the time she went to flight school she was already more advanced than her classmates. The young Mitchell took it upon herself to learn aerial combat—when she was not supposed to—and managed to fly her way to the top of her class at Top Gun years later. With years of experience and having Iceman as her superior for the past few years, Barbara proved herself again and again to those who underestimated that she was the best there was.

It was Iceman who told her Rooster would be one of the candidates for the mission. He warned her the same time he informed that she was also selected. It sparked a sense of dread in the aviator. It was one thing to have to reunite with her ex-husband for the first time in three years, it was another to have to compete against him for a spot on the six-man team. With her father as the instructor, it was going to be an interesting three weeks.

Having opted out of going inside The Hard Deck last night, arriving at the hangar was the first time she became acquainted with her fellow candidates. “Well, well well,” Hangman’s voice was the first to reach her ears, “Just who I was hoping to see on this fine Wednesday morning.” While they waited for the instructors, the officers took seats at the tables provided in the middle of the hangar. Barbara was the last to arrive.

It brought a cheeky grin to Hangman’s face, giving a brief glance to Rooster, who had his head turned to the side. The lieutenant stood from his chair, meeting Barbara halfway up the aisle of tables. The first thing he did was look at her name patch, where the name ‘Mitchell’ was embroidered. Jake smirked, towering over the small brunette, “Lieutenant Barbara Mitchell.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, but greeted the man nonetheless, “Seresin.” Turning her head to the left, she makes eye contact with Natasha, “Hey, Phee.”

Nat gives a small smile with a nod, “Hey, C.” Barb tilts her head to the man with glasses behind the woman, “Who’s your friend.”

“That’s Bob, WSO.” The man in question lightly lifts a hand in a small wave, offering a smile to Barb. She smiles back, throwing a wink which has him blushing. “Those two hunks are Payback and Fanboy—I don’t think you’ve met them yet.”

“I have not,” she looks past Hangman to see the two men. They both give a gesture in greeting. “Nice to meet ya, fellas.”

“Same to you,” Payback replies and Fanboy nods in agreement. Barbara pays no mind to the man seated on her right, instead going to the open chair in the front next to Hangman’s. She ignores the looks they give Rooster, throwing down her wallet and keys on the table and plopping down on the chair.

Hangman sits beside her, leaning close and aware of the daggers being sent to his back from Rooster. “So, Mitchell—gosh that’s gonna take some getting used to,” It took everything in Barb to stop herself from throwing a punch to his jaw. They were in uniform and on the job. Now was not the time to get a demerit. “This is probably not the time to ask—.”

“Then don’t ask, Seresin,” she hissed in warning, assuming the question involved Rooster. He raised his hands in defense as he chuckled, “Hey, hey, now I’m not trying to dig up an old can of worms, but I’m just curious you know.” He gestured to her patch, “Can’t you let a fella in on what the secret is behind your call sign? I’ve only ever known you as Mrs. Bradshaw—but that couldn’t have been it.” He leans back to wink at an infuriated Rooster.

Barbara tsks, staring ahead at the large American flag draped in front of her. “Nice to see you haven’t changed at being a pain in the ass. You’re lucky we’re in uniform, Hangman, otherwise I would wipe that damn smirk off your face. Didn’t your momma ever tell you to mind your business once in a while?” she said in a low tone, but the whole company heard. In the back Coyote let out a whistle while Fanboy, Phoenix and Bob held back laughter. Rooster even had to stop himself from smirking.

Before Hangman could respond, the whole hangar was brought to attention at the shout of, “Attention on deck!!” The Admirals march in, Warlock taking to the podium while Cyclone comes to a halt beside Hondo.

“Morning,” Warlock greets the officers. “Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated.” Chairs squeak as the group falls back to a sitting position, posture straight and attention on the admiral. “I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all TOPGUN graduates. The elite. The best of the best,” many grin at his praises, but they soon frown when he then says, “That was yesterday. The enemy's new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box.” Still grinning, Hangman bids a look to Legacy before doing the same to Phoenix.

“Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a TOPGUN graduate with real world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master,” Barbara tenses, clutching the pen in her hand when she hears the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Warlock continues, “His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced.”

In the corner of her eye Barbara sees Hangman turn in his chair, at first excited to see the instructor. But then the second he realizes who the man walking up the aisle was, the blonde brings a hand to his face and turns away in embarrassment. Having witnessed him, Coyote, and Payback throw her father out of the bar the previous night, it took every inch of her soul to not react at their shame. They were about to find out who he was to her, and she knew it was going to have everyone looking at her differently.

“What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell,” the second the last name leaves Warlock's mouth, Handman’s head is snapping towards her. He’s not the only one. Phoenix’s expression is one of shock, as is Fanboy’s. Payback whistles under his breath, and Bob just looks confused—not really putting two and two together just yet. But Barbara remains stoic, unreactive. “Call sign: ‘Maverick’.”

Maverick replaces Warlock at the podium, “Good morning,” he smiles at the group, particularly at the three who threw him out of the hard deck the night before. They all smile back, embarrassment and awkwardness in the gesture. Hangman gives another glance to Barbara when he catches Maverick nodding to her. Then the man looks at Rooster, who turns away from his gaze with an unreadable expression.

With a thick book in his hand, Maverick draws everyone's attention to it as he lifts it level with his head, “The F-18 NATOPS.” He pats the top before placing it onto the podium. “It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out.”

“Damn right!” Payback shouts with pride. Others follow in suit with “Damn straight.” “You got it!”

Maverick nods, smiling before surprising them all—minus Barbara—by dropping the book into the trash can beside him. Barbara shakes her head, expecting it from her father. Cyclone and Warlock share a look. “So does your enemy.”

“And we’re off,” Hondo sighs from the side. Like the Captain’s daughter, Hondo had worked with Maverick long enough to know how he played.

“But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, push beyond.” Feeling the pressure rise, some candidates straighten their posture. Mav looks at each of them as he lists off the day's plans, but his eyes linger on both Rooster and Barbara, “Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of.”

When they are dismissed and Mav takes the chance to leave the podium, the sound of Hangman’s light laughter captures everyone’s attention. “Something funny, Lieutenant?”

Still seated, Hangman licks his lip before saying, “Oh nothing, Captain Mitchell. I think I just got my answer to why our Legacy here,” he turns his head to Barbara, whose jaw was tight and looking anywhere but him. “Got her name in the first place.”

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