#its the survey that never ends

[collecting--stardust]

Can't fucking believe that I just spend hours researching about palliative care and lung cancer for a fic when I don't even do it when I'm learning about it last semester 💀

[thedragonagelesbian]

Wow im so glad the cr fandom is so normal and not interpreting a very generous and kind cast member getting in on a bit about wizards as (looks at notes) a celebrity unduly influencing a fandom poll

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ LOVE AND MERCY !

summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)

pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader

contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+

You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.

Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.

The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.

That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind. 

“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”

“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?

“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

But he knows what you really mean.

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit off a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[reasonsforhope]

Double dose of articles about how crime is actually plummeting

From the UK:

"Seventy-eight per cent of people in England and Wales think that crime has gone up in the last few years, according to the latest survey. But the data on actual crime shows the exact opposite.

As of 2024, violence, burglary and car crime have been declining for 30 years and by close to 90%, according to the Crime Survey for England and Wales (CSEW) – our best indicator of true crime levels. Unlike police data, the CSEW is not subject to variations in reporting and recording.

The drop in violence includes domestic violence and other violence against women. Anti-social behaviour has similarly declined. While increased fraud and computer misuse now make up half of crime, this mainly reflects how far the rates of other crimes have fallen.

All high-income countries have experienced similar trends, and there is scientific consensus that the decline in crime is a real phenomenon.

The perception gap

So why is there such a gulf between public perception and the reality of crime trends? A regular YouGov poll asks respondents for their top three concerns from a broad set of issues. Concern about crime went from a low in 2016 (when people were more concerned with Brexit), quadrupled by 2019 and plummeted during the pandemic when people had other worries. But in the last year, the public’s concern about crime has risen again.

There are many possible explanations for this, of which the first is poor information. A study published in 1998 found that “people who watch a lot of television or who read a lot of newspapers will be exposed to a steady diet of crime stories” that does not reflect official statistics.

The old news media adage “if it bleeds, it leads” reflects how violent news stories, including crime increases and serious crimes, capture public attention. Knife crime grabs headlines in the UK, but our shock at individual incidents is testament to their rarity and our relative success in controlling violence – many gun crimes do not make the news in the US.

Most recent terrorist attacks in the UK have featured knives (plus a thwarted Liverpool bomber), but there is little discussion of how this indicates that measures to restrict guns and bomb-making resources are effective."

-via The Conversation, May 13, 2024

And the United States:

"[The United States experienced a spike in crime rates in 2020, during the pandemic.] But in 2023, crime in America looked very different.

"At some point in 2022 — at the end of 2022 or through 2023 — there was just a tipping point where violence started to fall and it just continued to fall," said Jeff Asher, a crime analyst and co-founder of AH Datalytics.

In cities big and small, from both coasts, violence has dropped.

"The national picture shows that murder is falling. We have data from over 200 cities showing a 12.2% decline ... in 2023 relative to 2022," Asher said, citing his own analysis of public data. He found instances of rape, robbery and aggravated assault were all down too.

Yet when you ask people about crime in the country, the perception is it's getting a lot worse.

A Gallup poll released in November found 77% of Americans believed there was more crime in the country than the year before. And 63% felt there was either a "very" or "extremely" serious crime problem — the highest in the poll's history going back to 2000.

So what's going on?

What the cities are seeing

What you see depends a lot on what you're looking at, according to Asher.

"There's never been a news story that said, 'There were no robberies yesterday, nobody really shoplifted at Walgreens,'" he said.

"Especially with murder, there's no doubt that it is falling at [a] really fast pace right now. And the only way that I find to discuss it with people is to talk about what the data says." ...

For cities like San Francisco, Baltimore and Minneapolis, there may be different factors at play [in crime declining]. And in some instances, it comes as the number of police officers declines too.

Baltimore police are chronically short of their recruitment goal, and as of last September had more than 750 vacant positions, according to a state audit report...

In Minneapolis, police staffing has plummeted. According to the Star Tribune, there are about 560 active officers — down from nearly 900 in 2019. Mannix said the 2020 police killing of George Floyd resulted in an unprecedented exodus from the department...

In Minneapolis, the city is putting more financial resources into nontraditional policing initiatives. The Department of Neighborhood Safety, which addresses violence through a public health lens, received $22 million in the 2024 budget."

-via NPR, February 12, 2024

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be? 

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic. 

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy. 

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley. 

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals. 

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one. 

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this? 

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins. 

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone. 

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color. 

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling. 

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded. 

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns? 

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day. 

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.  

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front. 

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud. 

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom. 

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position. 

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected.  Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy. 

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you. 

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process. 

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort. 

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell. 

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there. 

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did. 

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming. 

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.” 

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered. 

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side. 

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby. 

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom. 

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your  pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?” 

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath. 

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm. 

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids. 

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt. 

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice. 

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him. 

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.” 

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall. 

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you. 

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not. 

No. Obviously not.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

[ataliagold]

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

“Uh….hi?” Eddie says, moving his leg away a bit because he doesn’t really do cats, has never interacted with them much before to be fair, other than the feral ones that hung around the trash in the trailer park and those weren’t exactly…friendly.

This guy is far cuter and cleaner than those cats ever were, though.

He’s got a maroon collar with a tag attached, and a red harness with a loose lead trailing behind him.

The cat steps closer to Eddie. Insistent now, shoving his face into his ankle again, then lets out an imploring meow.

“Where’s your owner?” Eddie asks to no one in particular, swiveling his head and surveying his surroundings. He sees fruit stands with enormous oranges, a honey stall, someone selling flowers off to his right, a small crowd browsing the wares but no one that looks like they’ve lost a black and white cat.

The cat meows again.

Eddie stoops down, gingerly reaches for its collar, reads the tiny writing on the tag in hope of some owners’ details.

Frodo - service cat

And Eddie had heard of service dogs, sure, but a cat?

A great name though, he admits.

He squints at the phone number etched below the name. Pulls out his phone, dials it. All the while Frodo meows at him, slams his head more forcefully into Eddie’s shin.

The call rings out to a voicemail, a guy called Steve in the message.

Eddie hangs up. Sighs, carefully pats the cat with a single finger on his head.

“You’re kinda cute, huh?” Eddie murmurs. “Someone’s missing you, for sure.”

He stands up again. Frodo moves several steps away, stops, stares back at him.

A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head.

He takes a step towards the cat. Frodo squeaks out a noise that seems happy to Eddie, and he steps even closer.

Frodo turns tail and trots off away from the market, and Eddie follows, Frodo glancing back every now and then to check Eddie’s still with him.

And so, the cat leads him towards a little copse of trees on the far side of the park. It’s pretty deserted out here, with most people busy browsing the market instead of taking their morning walks.

But as they get closer to the clearing in the middle of the trees, Eddie hears it.

Light gasps, panicked breathing, someone trying to suck in oxygen that just won’t come.

He quickens his step towards it. Frodo speeds up too, breaking away from Eddie now and bounding into the trees.

There’s a young man sitting in the dirt.

His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and he’s rocking back and forth a little. His cheeks are wet, eyes clenched shut behind crooked glasses.

Eddie drops to his knees beside the man, hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure whether or not to touch because he knew a thing or two about panic attacks, knew this was what he was seeing, didn’t want to frighten the man and make it worse…

Frodo presses himself up against the man’s side, trills quietly. The man shifts, blindly reaches for the cat, unfolds himself a bit and hauls the animal into his lap, burying his face in warm fur.

“…hi,” Eddie says quietly, barely audible, clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. I’m…I’m Eddie.”

The man goes still. Freezes, noticing Eddie for the first time. He peeks out from behind Frodo’s head, blinking up at Eddie, eyes red and sore-looking but also honey-brown and soft. He’s got moles dotted across his cheeks, hair long and mussed and falling across his face.

He’s fucking gorgeous, Eddie’s brain supplies.

He forces that thought away – it’s not exactly helpful right now.

“Are you Steve?” Eddie guesses.

A small, singular nod.

“I found your cat,” Eddie supplies. “Or…he found me, I guess. Led me here. He’s pretty clever.”

“He’s the b-best,” Steve croaks, his voice raspy and rough and broken. “He’s a service cat. But you can…you can go, s’fine.”

Eddie frowns, shakes his head. “I’m thinking he came and got me for a reason, huh?”

Steve looks away, shrugs.

Eddie waits, gives him time to answer, but Steve doesn’t speak again. He hugs his cat to his chest, still lightly trembling all over.

“How about…I sit here for a few minutes, and you take some deep breaths, huh? I’m thinking you’ve had a panic attack, and those suck – trust me, I know – but you need to get your breath back, ok?” Eddie reaches for Steve, hand ghosting over his shoulder now.

Steve flinches lightly, but doesn’t pull away.

Frodo purrs away calmly in Steve’s lap, letting his owner squeeze him close.

And Eddie sits, and waits.

He remembers his own panic attacks as a kid, after he’d wake up from a nightmare about his dad – where he swore the stench of alcohol was in his room, when his dad was surely just outside his bedroom door, all tension wound tight and clenched fists and ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at him. His uncle Wayne would step quietly into his room, would gather him up and hold him tight, would talk to him quietly about everything and nothing all at once until Eddie drifted peacefully back to sleep.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie starts to talk.

“I don’t know much about cats, but yours is pretty clever,” he murmurs, rubbing circles across Steve’s broad back, over the soft yellow sweater he was wearing. “He came right up to me, no idea why he picked me out of a crowd of nice old ladies at the market, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, he insisted on getting me to you. I guess that’s his job, right? Just like how some service dogs are trained to go and get someone if their owner is in trouble? I used to have this neighbour, this girl called Max, she had some disabilities after a car accident, and she had a dog who was trained to do that sort of stuff. But you’ve got Frodo.”

Steve’s breathing is evening out, his shoulders untensing slightly as Eddie speaks.

“Badass name, by the way,” Eddie continues, chuckling a little. “I’m guessing you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, then. So am I. In fact, it’s probably my favourite -”

“Not a fan,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie pauses mid-sentence. “…oh,” he finishes lamely.

Steve shifts a little, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips.

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of it.

“This kid I used to babysit, his name’s Dustin, he picked the name,” Steve clarifies, his voice a little clearer now, a little less forced. “It just kinda stuck.”

“It suits him,” Eddie assures him, reaching a hand out to the cat. He quickly snatches it back, remembers Max telling him over and over that you weren’t supposed to pat a service animal when they’re working. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…well. He’s working.”

Steve smiles, wider now.

Eddie blinks slowly at him, feeling stupid and warm and weak for this man.

“You can pat him,” Steve says quietly, just above a whisper. He unfolds his legs, loosens his grip on Frodo just a little, giving Eddie room to reach across to the cat.

Eddie grins as his fingers find soft fur. He traces over Frodo’s head and the cat purrs louder, pressing back into his hand.

Steve watches, tears drying on his cheeks. He lifts his glasses, rubs at his eyes, then straightens them again.

“It was the sirens,” he says, a little choked up still.

Eddie nods slowly, continues to pat Frodo.

“Over on Main Street, I think, I was walking past and they were really loud, and then more and more started and then there was that fire engine too and all the flashing lights and…”

Eddie heard it earlier, too. Some crash near the park, the ladies at the market had gossiped amongst themselves.

“…and I tried to move away, but they were everywhere so I went into the trees and that was a little better but I could still hear them, and I know it’s fucking stupid but some stuff happened to me a few years back and now every time I hear them…” Steve trails off, snaps his mouth shut. Runs his hand rhythmically down Frodo’s back, almost meditatively now. “Sorry. S’dumb. But…I’m ok now, I think.”

Eddie splays his free hand across Steve’s back. Thinks about how much he’d like to pull Steve to his side, bundle him close, wrap himself around him…but they’ve only just fucking met.

He needs to calm down.

“It isn’t dumb,” Eddie insists gently, “I used to get them too. Panic attacks. I get it, ok? I’m just glad you’re ok now.”

Steve smiles at him, wobbly and weak but there.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for following Frodo. And for…staying.”

Eddie returns his smile. Reaches for the man’s hand, clasps it, helps him to shaky feet.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand.

They linger there, under the shade of the red maple trees, neither saying anything for a long moment.

Frodo sits at their feet. Blinks up at them, meows eventually.

Steve picks up Frodo’s lead, one hand still in Eddie’s, fiddles with the red canvas cord.

Eddie’s heart beats faster.

“Do you…wanna come and look around the stalls?” he asks quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not held securely in Steve’s, thinks he’d be happy if he could never use that hand again, so long as Steve kept a hold of it.

Steve smiles again, bright as the sun, and nods.

Slowly, he follows Eddie out of the clearing and back into the light of the day.

___

[izels-writing]

r. lupin — i’m gonna be your wife

Pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

Summary: despite what happens, you’re going to marry remus.

Warnings: FLUFFFF, honestly no warnings it’s just cute, written in two hours so if it’s rushed or bad don’t judge me yall 😔

you weren't sure of a lot of things. if anything, your indecisiveness was an integral part of your personality. anyone who knew you, even if it was acquaintances, knew that making decisions or being sure of something was hard for you.

but there was one thing you were sure of.

you were going to marry remus lupin.

no matter what life threw your way, no matter how many hardships or bad people that entered your lives—you knew that he'd end up being your husband.

you understood each other in ways no one else would. you were there for each other. you gave each other support when the other needed it. it was a beautiful, once in a lifetime thing you’d never find again.

you had told lily this once, but she gave you an unsure look—likely thinking you were crazy. it wasn't like you'd do something to ensure that you and him ended up together, you just knew it would happen. your interference wasn't needed.

now, the one person you'd never bring it up to is remus. he was unsure of dating you as it was, due to his furry little problem. you didn't want to mention the idea of possibly spending the rest of your lives together, because you knew how squirrelly he could be about love.

you had days where you doubted your assurance of knowing you'd marry him—you knew that was normal for anyone. but it always came to the same conclusion.

it'd happen anyway.

——

madam pomfrey let you inside as you stepped forward carefully with remus' tea and biscuits. being a student assistant for your school nurse certainly had its perks—getting to ensure your boyfriend actually ate was one of them.

you ambled over carefully to his bedside, placing the tray down as you sat on the chair next to him. he smiled weakly at you.

“how’re you feeling?” you asked softly.

“same as always,” he chuckled. you knew the humor was just a front.

“well, want some tea and biscuits?” you smiled.

he smiled. “sure,” he replied as he sat up and adjusted himself into a sitting position.

you placed the tray on his lap and sat back down, smiling as he ate slowly. he picked up his tea and went to take a sip before looking at you for a second.

“two sugars, a dash of milk, just how you like it,” you sighed, playfully rolling your eyes. he nodded in satisfaction and took a sip, savoring the taste of his tea.

“have you done your DADA homework?” he asked. your eyes widened.

“that would be a no,” he chuckled. “do you want help with it?”

you sighed. “yes, please. i don’t understand why i need it to graduate,” you groaned.

remus just laughed at you as you stood to get your school bag from one of the empty cupboards, bringing it back over to him. you enjoyed when he helped you with your homework—he never made you feel stupid or lesser. he knew how smart you were, no matter how much convincing it took for you to think the same.

it was a sweet thing you two did together after full moons. you’d care for him, he’d help you with homework or whatever advice you needed. funnily enough, this was also what brought you two close together in the first place to the point of being together for two years now.

you sat beside him on the bed, facing him—showing him the work you’d done so far, allowing him to survey it before he begun his mini-tutoring session.

he loved that about you. the fact that you didn’t see him as weak or unable after full moons like his friends. he didn’t blame them, frankly he knew he didn’t look his best, but he hated feeling weaker than them. you played to his strengths.

“okay, well half of this is right and the other half is…not…” he chuckled. you groaned, throwing your forehead down to his chest.

“can you just do it for me?” you pleaded, looking at him pitifully.

“unfortunately, i can’t, love,” he grinned. “you have to know this stuff to be a healer,”

“bloody hell,” you groaned.

——

after two hours of what you presumed to be torture, though remus would disagree, you talked and played board games with the physically exhausted boy. you both enjoyed spending the day together, even if you confined to one room throughout the entirety of it.

you placed down your piece after drawing the card, glancing up to find remus smiling at you—almost admiringly. you chuckled, “what?”

“nothing…” he chuckled back.

“come on,” you laughed, swatting his arm. “what is it?”

“you just…i hope you know how much i appreciate you and how much easier you make the hard days,” remus mumbled shyly.

you smiled. “of course, that’s what girlfriends do,”

he grinned, wincing as he started pulling himself up to cup your face. “i love you, y/n,” he whispered.

“i love you too,” you smiled, closing the gap between you both.

——

“and so, dorcas and emmeline are currently fighting because of that…” you concluded. because if there was one thing you and remus loved to do together—it was gossip.

“because of a hair product?” he questioned in annoyance.

“i know! i suppose it’s the principal or whatever, i dunno,” you shrugged.

“that reminds me of that one time james and peter didn’t speak to each other for a week over a quill,” remus snickered. “merlin, you should’ve seen the look on their faces when they realized sirius had it,”

you laughed. “i can only imagine,”

a few pairs of footsteps rushed inside and you both furrowed your eyebrows humorously at each other, craning your necks to catch sight of whoever was walking in.

suddenly, three boys appeared at your boyfriends bedside.

“hello, mister and misses lupin,” james grinned, greeting you both.

“hello, james,” you chuckled, sliding off of remus’ bed so the three of them could talk to him. “you guys want tea?”

“no, they’re fine,” remus said, glaring at them to dare to say anything more. they didn’t.

“great, ‘cause i ran out of tea earlier anyway,” you chuckled. “i’ll be back,”

it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with remus and his friends, because frankly you really did. they were a fun group and they were kind to you. but you also didn’t want to be that overbearing girlfriend who constantly hung around—so you immediately went to finish up restocking madam pomfrey’s stuff.

after an hour or two, the sun had gone down and the boys had returned back to their dorm without remus. obviously due to the fact that he was there for 48 hour care. though he didn’t show it, the full moon took a lot out of him.

you quickly returned to his bedside, smiling at his droopy state.

“tired?” you asked.

“very,” he chuckled. “you?”

“oh yeah,” you replied sarcastically, “stocking really takes the energy out of me,”

remus laughed. “alright, i was just asking, you twat, no need to be so sarcastic about it,”

you chuckled and sat down on the chair beside his bed. “no, truthfully though, i am a bit tired. i’ll wait until you’re asleep to go lay down though,” you smiled, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

“why wait?” he smirked.

you raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

he scooted slightly, turning slightly to the side, before patting the spot next to him. luckily for you, you had changed into pajama pants and a tank top earlier—once the clock struck 8:30.

you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, before crawling into his bed. you curled up next to him, laying face to face with the boy.

“careful, i could fall asleep here,” you joked.

“go ahead,” he grinned, kissing your forehead.

bonus;

remus sighed, bringing a hand to his face as he looked over the bills and debts owed. he felt terrible, having to constantly budget and decide whether to have a full fridge or a new stove. economically, it hadn’t been easy for you two.

and you didn’t deserve this, he knew that deep down. you deserved those pretty necklaces you eyed in the store but never commented on.

you knocked on the room of your shared office space in your house, smiling at your husband kindly. “what’s the damage, mr. lupin?” you chuckled.

“the same as always,” he sighed. you frowned slightly at his worry lines and his stressed out look. you hated seeing him like this.

you ambled over to him, sitting on his lap. you kissed his lips softly, massaging his head gently. he closed his eyes slowly, leaning into your hands. you kissed his face softly—in efforts to comfort him.

you never cared that you struggled with money, as long as you had him, things didn’t seem so bad. he tried his hardest and that was all that mattered.

“how about me and you watch a movie and eat some popcorn? the kids just went to sleep, so i figured we could have some adult time,” you chuckled, kissing his jaw slightly.

he chuckled. “i’d enjoy that a lot,”

he looked up at you, starry-eyed and lovingly and for a second, all of your worries slipped away. you smiled sheepishly, “what?”

“thank you for making the hard days easier,” he said, kissing your neck softly.

“of course,” you grinned. “it’s what wives do,”

[doodlebugg16-blog]

|| Come Back, Come Back To Me

Azriel x Rhys!Sister

|| summary: after hundreds of years in hiding, you decide it’s finally time to come back home

|| warnings: angst with happy ending, crying, fainting, reunions,you’re Rhys’s sister, lemme know if I forgot anything

|| a/n: hii… literally wrote this on a whim. Idk if imma continue it or not but I hope you enjoy it at least a little bit even though it’s blah and super rushed lolol

It was pouring. Your hand failing to shield the rain from blurring your vision. Your shoulders had slumped at the view. After hundreds of years, you had finally made it. The Illyrian Mountains. Almost home. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, pushing you to keep going.

Once you had made it to the west end of the Night Court, your body was giving up— begging for rest. Before you could take that last step towards Velaris, the world blurred to black.

Hushed voices stirred you out of your sleep. Blinking your eyes open, adjusting to the light, you noticed the room had gone silent. Once your eyes adjusted, you notice a female with long brown locks and freckles. She was beautiful. You had turned your head to survey the room only to be met with very familiar violet eyes. Gasping, you sat up lunged for the man before you, tackling him in a hug.

“Rhys! Gods, I thought I’d never see you again!”

He pulled me away and held my face. His face filled with grief and confusion.

“This can’t be real. Tell me this is real.”

Tears spilled from my eyes.

“It’s real. I’m home now.”

That all it took for his eyes to water and slide down his face. He pulled me into another hug, tighter than the last.

“I’ve missed you dear sister….I- I thought I had lost you.”

“He almost had me…I barely escaped. He—they’re gone, Rhys…They’re gone!”

I couldn’t control the sobs breaking through my words.

The past week you refused to leave the library and your room. Your excuse was that you wanted to enjoy the peace of not having to hide anymore, but Rhys was too smart for that. He knew you were worried about revealing yourself to Cassian and Azriel. Especially now that the things that made you who you are—now gone. Your wings.

You couldn’t bare the thought of them looking at you differently. You felt helpless. You felt that you were nothing without your wings.

You huff as you pushed a book back into its rightful place, loosing interest in reading at the moment. Gasping, suddenly feeling a chill up your leg. Your eyes darted down, catching a shadow speeding away. Following the shadow with your eyes, you saw the shadow reach its holder. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Azriel.”

You choked out.

He shook his head in disbelief and rushed you into an embrace. Taking in his scent, you held him tighter. A slight tug in your chest had you pulling away and peering into his eyes in fear and confusion.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you….mate.”

A smile reached your eyes as tears spilled down your cheeks.

[pomefioredove]

HIII I SAW THE FLIRTY PROMPTS EVENTS AND RAN HAHA

Can I please get "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?" with Rook please???? 🙏🙏🫠🫠🤍

anon this one is PERFECT omg screaming...

summary: "you're a shy little thing, aren't you?" type of post: short fic characters: rook additional info: romantic(?), reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, Rook being a little freak, shamelessly flirty, not proofread a part of this event

There's that feeling again.

Your heart rate picking up, muscles tensing, adrenaline urging you to find somewhere to run, a quiet corner to lurk until those eyes you feel on the back of your neck have turned away...

You're surrounded by people, but even the crowd isn't enough to hide you.

For so many years, you hadn't been noticed at all. An unsaved seat, a forgotten name, a dull, drooping wallflower with nowhere to root. Ignored and undesired, nothing more than a piece of furniture in everyone else's lives.

You had long come to accept that it's just how things are, even here.

And, so, the feeling of being watched is wholly unfamiliar.

You slip out of the midday crowd and into a quiet corridor. Your worst fear, really, is that whoever's keeping their eye on you is picking you apart at the seams, analyzing your every flaw...

As if being quiet didn't make you enough of a target...

"Ah, there you are! I thought I lost you,"

You nearly jump. For a moment, you're tempted to look around the vacant corridor for someone hiding in the shadows, because, surely, that voice isn't addressing you.

The boy at the other end of the hall tilts his head. "Ah, do not be frightened! I was only worried you had been swallowed by the crowd,"

You blink.

"...Me?"

"Oui," he responds, putting his hands on his hips. "You are such a tiny thing, I could not let any harm befall you under my watch."

There's something rather unsettling about his gaze. Familiar, even.

"Tiny?" you scoff at the description. "...Who are you, anyway?"

His smile is just as uneasy. Too eager, you think. "Je suis désolée, how rude, I have not introduced myself yet. Where are my manners?" he scolds himself, taking a step forward.

"Rook Hunt."

No, not familiar at all. You've never seen this man in your life, even if there's something about his gaze that strikes a chord with you.

You give your name in return, to which he hums.

"You are quite the interesting creature, you know."

Creature? You give him a sour look, and he chuckles.

"I mean it in the loveliest way. Like a flower which takes a century to bloom, or a comet one might see but once in their lifetime,"

He speaks enthusiastically, and thus fast, leaving you dizzy with metaphors and imagery.

"...Is that a compliment?"

A small smile graces his lips, and he leans forward. "Would you like it to be?"

Full of surprises. You instinctively lean back, further away from those piercing eyes.

He hums again, eyes shining with amusement. "Ah, ah, have I embarrassed you? My apologies,"

"I'm fine," you lie, and leave it at that. You can't seem to come up with a good excuse, and your face feels warm.

Rook tuts, circling around you like a predator surveying its prey.

"...There is no shame in being flattered, chérie. Though I would gladly embarrass you all day just to see that lovely look on your face again,"

You watch him carefully, though avoid eye contact as he stops, eventually, standing in front of you again with a little smile.

"It is a shame you hide yourself, even now. Your beauty should be appreciated," he says. "...Though, I admit, I find the idea of keeping it all to myself rather tempting."

He's going to give you a heart attack, you think. You can feel the embarrassment swelling in your chest, making your heart beat a little faster and averting your gaze to the ground.

He chuckles. "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?"

"I..." you cough awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. "...Don't get complimented often."

Rook places a hand over his heart, as if offended by the very thought. "Non? What a cruel world we live in, where such beauty goes unnoticed! The very notion wounds me!"

"Well, then..." he says, getting down on one knee and taking your hand in his, kissing each of your knuckles.

"...Let me make up for it, chérie."

[eilidh-eternal]

You make a promise

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW mentions of SA, stalking, general PTSD warning for reader and Johnny |

It happened again.

You knew it would. Know that part of being a woman in this world means living in near constant hyper-vigilance; with an acute awareness of your surroundings.

Should have known better. Should have been more aware. Should have kicked and screamed. Should have fought back.

It’s disappointment that curls around your mind like a serpent and sinks its fangs in deep, floods you with venomous, paralyzing thoughts.

Paralyzed. That’s a good word for it. Pinned against that bookshelf and presently burrowed beneath the blankets in the dark, body curled in on itself with trembling hands tucked tight to your chest. Small. Meek. Trapped in a body that betrays everything you taught it to do. Disappointed that the months of training you endured in the aftermath proved useless when tested outside of a controlled environment and theoretical scenarios.

It happened again–and you let it.

“Bubby?” Isobel is strapped in her car seat, kicking impatient little feet while Johnny works to unfasten the belt across her lap.

“Yes leannan?”

“Why’re the polis here?”

His hands go still, hovering above the buckle, and he turns his head over his shoulder just enough to glimpse the two lids standing on your front stoop. The air in his lungs rushes out of him, chin falling to his breastbone as the panic winding tight in his chest slowly unfurls.

This is home. Isobel is safe. Everyone is safe. This isn’t that day, he reminds himself, but seeing them on your doorstep strikes flint against steeled nerves. The carefully compartmentalized part of his brain that he reserves for work wrestles itself free from its confines and floods his body with adrenaline. Makes the hair on his nape stand on end and the muscles in his jaw tighten until it aches from the tension.

With Isobel extracted from the car, perched on his hip and her book bag slung over the opposite shoulder, he turns to nudge the car door closed, just in time to see your door crack open. Watches the two men present their badges and a folded bundle of paperwork. Gnashes his teeth when he sees, even from the street, wide and fearful eyes that scan everything behind them. Eyes that note his presence and dart away to catalog the next detail. Trodden snow and parked cars. The woman across the street, walking her dog. Surveying your front yard with the same scrutiny he does an engagement zone. 

Isobel squirming in his arms tears his focus away from you, forces him to register the burning sensation at the tip of his nose, the tops of his ears, cold winter air surely biting into her skin just as mercilessly as it does his own.

“I dunno. Let’s get ye inside, aye? Dinnae want to find any missing fingers or toes tonight.” 

To anyone else it would look like he’s taking his time with the ice, treading carefully with the little girl in his arms so as not to send them both crashing down into the snow. Anyone else would see lids next door and mind their own damn business.

Johnny’s never been particularly good at that.

Their presence alone is enough to raise his hackles, to pull the pin from his nerves and toy with letting the hammer fall. Just enough to see if they’re as trained up as the SNP says they are. But all that’s likely to do is scare you more, and he can’t have that. He just found you, just started to get to know you. He’ll be damned if he lets another rash decision chase a pretty thing like you away. 

The thought of it twists and knots in his stomach, plucks at the out-of-tune strings wound through his heart in a weeping facsimile of something he doesn’t dare put a name to. Can’t name because it gives it too much power. Makes it too real.

It’s slow going, pretending to fumble with the keys in the cold. Feigning indifference as he grapples with “—in custody, for now—” and “—press charges?” 

The snow and ice outside is a brilliant, blinding white. Inside, all Johnny can see is red. 

Charges? What on earth happened that she needs to press charges for?

“Bubby, too tight,” Isobel grouses, and he loosens his arm around her with a sigh, lowering her to the ground to help with her jacket and boots. 

“‘M sorry, Bell. Didnae mean to squeeze ye so tight.” Curls bounce around her face as she teeters on one foot, hands on his shoulders to keep her balance.

“It’s okay.” She shifts to her other foot, pulling free of the fleece-lined boots. “Ye’re makin’ a twisty face again,” she observes, and her brows mirror the pinch of his own.

Too damn observant.

“Ah know,” he admits, and his chest heaves with another sigh, reaching up to smooth the crinkles in her forehead with his thumb. “Dinna worry about me and muh twisty face. How ‘bout some hot cocoa? We’ll warm up and then see about supper, hm?” Her face splits into a toothy grin and he softens at the sight. Lets her latch onto his hand and drag him into the kitchen.

“May we come in?”

No.

“Of course.” You take a step back, pulling the door open just wide enough to let the two officers through. Melting snow pools on polished hardwood under their boots, and you quickly herd them towards the carpeted sitting room before the water can warp your floors. You sit opposite of where they do on your sofa, big fluffy robe pulled tight over flannel pants and a pullover.

“He’ll be released on Thursday morning, unless ye’d like to go ahead with the charges for—”

“—No.” Your fingers curl into your palms. “Just the restraining order. I—” Can’t see his face again. Don’t want to be in the same room with him again. “—just the restraining order. Please.”

The shorter of the two nods and produces a pen from his coat, scribbling something in the margins of the papers he holds before sliding them across the coffee table towards you.

“Tha’s the station an’ phone number,” he says, tapping on the notes he made. “We’ll ring ye when he’s released. An’ we’ll ‘ave the protective order in place by tomorrow. He shouldnae be botherin’ ye anymore.”

All you can manage is a nod and a whispered, “Thank you.” They’re kind enough. Most people are.

Until they’re not.

——

It’s dark outside when you hear a knock at your front door, and your hand immediately reaches for your phone, breath forced out of your lungs by the panic squeezing them inside your chest.

There’s a muffled voice. A giggle, followed by shushing and shuffling feet. “Dinnae want to spoil the surprise,” you hear in a familiar lilt.

Johnny?

You draw a relieved breath and wince when your nails press into the marks on your palms, angry crescent moons, and pull yourself up off the couch to peer through the edge of the curtains.

Johnny and Isobel stand, the former holding the latter, on your stoop, small pan of… something, in Isobels gloveless hands.

Bewildered as you are, you shed the blanket from your shoulders, smoothing a hand over your rumpled jumper, and hurry to the door, fretful over Isobels fingers in the frigid air.

The door cracks open, and with it, so do their smiles. 

“Hi, bonnie—”

“—Surprise!” they say at the same time. 

You stand dumbfounded in your doorway, hand braced on the wooden frame, and Isobel holds out what might be something of a cake beneath a mountain of whipped cream towards you.

“It’s a trifle,” she proudly announces. You turn a questioning eye to Johnny.

“Didnae have the fixin’s for a proper cake,” he supplies. “Figured it would be a sort of… olive branch.”

Olive branch? Why would he need—?

Clipped memories from several days ago replay in your head. Coming home. Sitting in the car. Johnny calling after you. Practically running away and slamming the door on him. Shutting him out.

And here he stands, thinking he’s done something worth apologizing over.

“You don’t need- you didn’t… oh, come in out of the cold, will you? No sense in freezing out there.” You push the door open wider, beckoning them in.

“Thought ye’d never ask,” he teases with a wink and shuffles inside, following you to the kitchen with Isobel in tow behind him.

“Here, let’s put that on the table.” Isobel gladly relinquishes the pan and you’re relieved when you feel its warmth seeping into your fingers, a little less worried about both of their lack of proper winter attire. “I’ve never served trifle… would bowls be best?” 

“Aye, ye’ll probably need spoons too. More of a pudding than a cake,” he says as he settles himself in a chair, Isobel quick to clamber up onto his lap.

You’re surprised by your own lack of nerves. The dishes don’t clatter together when you pull them from the cabinet as they have in recent days, and you don’t feel so uneasy with your back to them. Don’t feel the need to look over your shoulder when Isobel thrums her little fingers on the wooden table, or the deep rumble of Johnny’s voice, speaking to her in hushed tones.

You’re safe here. Safe with them.

Johnny’s right about the dessert too. It’s warm, freshly made, and it’s made for a bit of a runny affair, melted whipped cream seeping into custard and some sort of cake on the bottom.

“It’s good. Thank you for, um… Thank you for sharing.” You spoon another bite into your mouth before you can shove your foot in it. Isobel seems to be in another plane of existence entirely, too absorbed with the confection smeared at the corners of her mouth. The same can’t be said about Johnny. He’s focused wholly on you, dessert in front of him a secondary matter. Tertiary, even, with Isobel perched on his knee and his arm looped around her midsection.

The warmth in his eyes has shifted, burns brighter, in a seeking sort of way. Searching for tinder to catch on. More air to billow and blaze. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”

You settle your silverware in your bowl and fold your hands in your lap, pulling the inside of your cheek between your teeth when your nails slice into your palms again. “Sure.”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable so much as it is heavy, laden with the weight of his unspoken question as he continues his assessment of you. For a moment, you wonder if maybe it’s you who owes him an apology.

“Havnae seen ye for a few days. Yer car’s nae moved and yer curtain’s been closed. And last week, when ye–” He pauses abruptly, mulling over his next words carefully. “Ye looked like a green recruit, fresh off the field.”

Terrified.

Shell shocked.

“That have anythin’ to do with the fellows who dropped by today?”

Your eyes flick between his, the bowl on the table in front of you, and Isobel–still lost in her own little microcosm. Untainted by the dark things lurking just beyond her understanding. You knew he’d seen them. Knew he might ask about them at some point. What you hadn’t expected was a trojan horse in the form of a trifle. Thought you would have more time to think of something to explain the situation away.

This isn’t something he should be burdened with. Not over you. Not when he has Isobel to look out for.

When you finally meet his eyes again they’re no less dim. Still searching for words buried beneath ash on your tongue.

“I… Yes. It did.” You swallow, shove down the knot working it’s way up from your chest. “I was followed, out at the shops,” you lie. “The man, he wouldn’t leave me alone, so… the shopkeeper called for the polis. He left me alone after that, but they still took a statement.” You glance towards Isobel again. To give yourself reprieve from the intensity of his gaze and to ensure she’s not listening too closely to the conversation being had. “Guess it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. They came by today to… to let me know he’s in custody. Wanted to know if I wanted to press charges.”

He’s quiet, unearthly still on the wooden chair, staring hard at the expression you’re doing your best to keep calm.

“This happen before?” he questions, hand curling into a fist on the table. 

“No,” you lie–again. 

He nods, a near imperceptible tilt of his chin. “Are ye filing?”

You nod in return. No need to go into the specifics. 

His shoulders relax a fraction when he looses a long breath. “No wonder ye wouldnae come near me that day,” he muses aloud. “‘M sure my givin’ ye a fright in yer car didnae help much, either.”

“It’s not your fault,” you interject.

“Maybe so, but…” His eyes drift with his words, searching the patterns of the wood grain for something. “Can I ask ye another question?” When he looks up at you again, you nod. “Promise ye’ll tell me, if anythin’ like that happens again? Dinna like the thought of ye dealin’ with it on yer own, lass.”

“Tell ye what?” Isobel queries, bowl of trifle empty in front of her, but his gaze remains firmly on you, and you don’t think he’s willing to take no for an answer.

“Okay. I promise.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[distantdarlings]

PLAY IN YOUR MIND // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* A couple of your friends describe a popular challenge spreading rapidly throughout Hogwarts, "No-Nut-November." You think it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard, until your boyfriend, Theo, bets you couldn't beat him at it.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight degradation, manipulation (?), one use of 'daddy' (sorry), dirty talk, language, dom!Theo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Heavy Metal Lover - Lady Gaga

---

The golden light poured through the window almost as if it was made of the pure material itself. Hot and smooth and liquid, sliding past the panes in the glass, illuminating all in its wake. The motes of dust swirled peacefully just beside your head. Your eyes, still swollen from sleep, squinted in a small smile at the lovely sight. A hand came up to gently weave your fingers in and out of the little creatures.

It was Saturday, which meant, of course, no classes and no Quidditch practice until around noon. It was only eight o’clock now, which meant you had plenty of time to have a nice breakfast, catch up on some homework, and check in on your friends. A shock of dopamine filled your stomach. You loved Saturdays. 

The motivation born of the excitement to get started with your day had you ripping the comforters back and sitting up on the edge of the bed. You slid your toes between the shagged carpet, shuddering at the small tickle the material coaxed out of you.

You didn’t quite feel like getting ready to go down to the Great Hall so you settled for a robe over your pajamas and your fuzzy slippers, relying on the universe’s grace for the state of your breath and hair. Hopefully, your boyfriend wasn’t in a huge kissing mood.

For the most part, everyone in your dormitory had already left for the morning. You reckoned they were all downstairs grabbing some breakfast or headed to Hogsmeade for the day. You grabbed your wand, slid it into your robe pocket, and made your way toward the door. A small grumble came from your stomach at the thought of what might be waiting for you at breakfast.

You only ran into a few people on the way to the Great Hall, all of whom you didn’t know well enough to care about what they thought of your outfit. You yawned and rubbed a bit of sleep out of your eyes as you rounded the corner to the vast hall. The doors were already propped open, granting you a straight line of sight to the beautifully-lit room.

You crossed the threshold and found your entire group of friends gathered around the end of the table farthest to the left. You smiled as a couple of them caught your eye and waved you over. 

It looked like you weren’t the only one who had the same idea with the majority of them being decked out in the finest pajamas and robes. Enzo’s hair was still heavily ruffled from sleep, yet he didn’t care. 

“Good morning,” you suppressed another yawn. They returned the sentiment, some voices joyous and others grumbled from being up earlier. You smiled. 

“What’s for breakfast this morning, love?” A very familiar voice popped up from behind you as a pair of hands slid around your shoulders. You bit your bottom lip as butterflies erupted in your stomach. It didn’t matter how long the two of you were together, Theo never failed to make you giddy.

You turned and faced his beautifully well-rested face and examined it closely. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands crossed against your lower back.

“I was thinking you,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss and moved his lips along with yours. Fuck morning breath, you’d kiss him any time. A chorus of groans and fake gagging erupted behind the two of you. You both pulled away, chuckling childishly.

“Sounds alright to me,” he joked, guiding you to a seat between him and Enzo. You began surveying the options before you, the grumbles in your stomach building with every second. You eventually settled on a croissant with butter, a few selections of fruit, and some pumpkin juice to go with it. 

“Sleep well?” Mattheo asked, crossing his arms on the table just in front of his cleaned plate. Sleep weighed heavy beneath his eyes, rimming dark circles on the soft flesh there. You clicked your tongue in disappointment.

“Well, I’d say yes, but it looks like you didn’t,” you say. “Feeling alright?”

“Oh, he’s feeling more than alright,” Enzo chuckled, ignoring the elbow Pansy placed into his ribs. “Er, well, he was last night anyway…maybe not so much now.”

“Stay out late, did you, mate?” Theo asked, digging into the breakfast himself.

“Something like that,” the dark boy smirked in response. The conversation suddenly turned away from Mattheo’s late-night activities and on to some planning for the day’s Quidditch practice but you couldn’t help but notice the dark purpling that spread from the base of Mattheo’s throat down to beneath his white tee shirt. He caught you staring and sent a wink your way. Cheeky bastard.

“Alright, I’m going to head down to the pitch early and try to get some practice in,” Enzo announced.

“I’m sure,” Mattheo laughed, “probably just going to see how fast he can beat no-nut-November.” 

Theo and he broke out into uncontrollable laughter as a fiery red blush appeared across En’s cheeks and nose. Pansy stifled a laugh at the two’s response to the boy. It honestly kind of frustrated you.

“Hey, don’t tease him,” you scolded, giving a swift smack to Theo’s arm. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

It took a moment for the laughter to die down but eventually, the two of them had wiped the tears from their eyes and turned to face you.

“What, you mean you really don’t know what I’m talking about?” Mattheo smiled in obvious disbelief. You stared back blankly at him.

“Wait, are you serious, babe?” Theo turned more towards you. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, tapping your index finger against your skin in annoyance.

“We’ve already established this,” you spoke.

“Ah, shit, man. Maybe you should discuss this with her,” Mattheo shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable explaining that to your partner.” Theo threw him a dirty look. 

“Uh, well,” Theo turned to you, “It’s like when a guy—or girl, I guess—tries their hardest not to….you know…” He motioned with his hands, indicating he wanted you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh, uh… ‘nut’?” you asked. He nodded.

“You try to go all through November without,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “cumming.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” you joked. Mattheo laughed. 

“Yeah, well, it’s part of the challenge,” Theo said.

“I’ve already lost, unfortunately,” Mattheo spoke. He pulled his shirt sleeve up and glanced at the watch placed around his wrist. “Twice since the first of November, actually.”

“But it’s November first today?” Pansy said, questioningly. Mattheo did not speak. Everybody suddenly made knowing glances as realization peaked between the five of you. 

“Then I’m going to beat you!” Enzo said, looking around the group. 

“Yeah, man,” Theo shouted, clapping a hand into his. “Me too!”

“Uh, you too?” you asked. “I’m sorry, where was my discussion about this?”

Theo turned to look at you, a slight look of disappointment printed on his face. He shrugged and avoided eye contact with you. You could tell you had embarrassed him slightly.

“I don’t know, it was kind of a sudden decision,” he said, “I didn’t really think it through, I just thought I’d help En out.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t need your help but someone else at this table occasionally does,” you spoke, crossing your arms. Mattheo choked on his pumpkin juice.

“Well,” Theo’s voice was lower and his head was bowed towards yours. “Baby, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. I just wanna show I’m, like, disciplined enough to do it, you know?”

“Theo, this is not a fucking Quidditch tournament. You don’t need to be ‘disciplined’ not to cum—just don’t do it,” you said.

“Easy for you to say,” mumbled Enzo. You glanced over at him to which he responded by dropping his eyes down to his feet. 

“If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you do it, then?” Theo asked, his jaw tightening and his eyes becoming challenging. You crossed your arms once again. If he seriously thought he was going to challenge you to something—a battle of will, at best—and win, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Okay, I will,” you said. “I’ll win, no problem. And not only will I win, you will lose so badly, it’ll be laughable.”

“Uh-huh, sure, whatever you say, little girl,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. Now he was just being a dick.

“We’ll see about that, little boy,” you mocked him. You got to your feet and began to head back towards the Great Hall’s entrance. Just before you got past the edge of the table, you turned back towards him.

“Oh, and Theo?”

“Yes, darling?” he replied sarcastically.

“When I win,” you smirked, “you’re going to do whatever I say in the bedroom until the end of November…you know, if you’re ‘discipline’ is so great.”

Mattheo choked on his drink once more and Pansy stifled another laugh. Enzo’s cheeks were reddened again. You all really needed to get him laid. Or maybe he already had been and was just really nervous about sexual talks. You weren’t sure.

Theo rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends. You suppressed a laugh and made your way out of the Great Hall, planning things for him to do for you all month long. 

xxx

After breakfast, you spent the majority of the rest of your morning finishing up some assignments and laying your Quidditch gear out. You figured you were going to rush out of here, per usual. Your punctuality wasn’t exactly hailed as the greatest known to Wizardkind. 

Your back was propped against a few of your pillows as you scanned through the assigned readings for Astrology, breezing through each chapter. You really did love that class and didn’t mind its assignments at all. It felt more like a hobby than required schoolwork. 

No matter how enjoyable the material was, however, your neck started to cramp after two hours or so. You tilted it from side to side, attempting to coax a pop out of each side. Just as you were beginning to work the pops down your spine, the door to your dorm swung open. From the angle you were at, you couldn’t quite see who was at the entrance but you assumed it was one of your roommates. You mumbled a polite “hey” and continued trying to stretch yourself out. When no reply came, you leaned around the bed’s footpost and tried to locate the intruder.

To your surprise, you found Theo standing before you, rather than a roommate.

“Oh,” you smiled, “hey, baby, I was just thinking of you.” You were excited to see him but after a few seconds of watching his face and getting no response, you realize he was not smiling nor did he seem happy.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You embarrassed me at breakfast,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Oh…,” you trailed off, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t really see how I embarrassed you, though, it was just a joke.”

“After you left, everyone was talking about how I cum quickly, and have no control in the bedroom, and probably don’t please you.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Aw, well that’s not true,” you spoke, placing a hand on his crossed arms in an attempt to be comforting. “I’m sorry they said those things about you, but I’m sure they were just teasing you. You have a ton of ‘discipline’ in the bedroom.” You tried your very best not to speak the word mockingly. You were trying to make him feel better, after all. 

“You’re trying not to laugh!” he shouted. You definitely were.

“No, I’m not!” you scoffed. A hand slapped his crossed arms playfully. “But, honestly, Theo, what does it matter if you are or not? I like it when you’re a little helpless.” You giggled at your words. He rolled his eyes.

“What is it?” you asked in a babied voice. “Are you still embarrassed, baby?”  

“I’m so annoyed with you,” he grumbled, turning away from you and facing the window. You rolled your eyes and got to your feet, standing just behind him.

“Baby, are you mad at me?” you whispered, sliding your hands around his sides and pulling him into a hug. He didn’t uncross his arms and, though you couldn’t really see his face, you were almost sure he still had that little pout plastered on. 

“Yes, I thought I made that clear,” he pulled away from your hug. You scoffed at his action. 

“Theo, please, it’s a dumb challenge some teenage boys came up with, and your friends teased you about cumming quickly,” you argued. “I’m pretty sure every other Hogwarts student that’s ever come through here has dealt with the same crap. It’s just stupid jokes.”

“Well, I’m still mad.” You rolled your eyes once more, suppressing a groan. 

“Oh, Merlin, help me,” you sighed, falling back down onto your bed. “Are you twelve years old?”

He scoffed and glanced back at you with an annoyed glint in his eyes. You knew it probably wasn’t smart to poke the bear but you thought he was acting very stupidly. Then, with just perfect timing, a thought popped into your head.

“Theo, baby,” you cooed, leaning back on your hands, feeling your soft comforter beneath your fingers. “If you don’t want them teasing you, how about you prove how much discipline you have in the bedroom.” You bit your bottom lip and slowly spread your legs, allowing the side-eye glances he was throwing you to catch the opening against your pajama shorts. His eyes snapped back to the wall.

“Away with you, devil! I’m winning this challenge!” he joked, though the frown remained fixed against his mouth.

“Are you sure you don’t want a little something?” you teased. “I won’t tell anyone you did it—we can still say you won…”

He grunted in response. You knew you’d wear him down, eventually. This ploy was never a particularly hard one to break. He’d start claiming he didn’t want to do anything because he was mad at you or something, then you would simply sit back and let his mind convince him to redirect all thinking ability to his dick. You smirked.

“Baby, don’t you wanna come down here and fuck me?” you whispered. You leaned back up and started to slip your tank top over your head. Your chest perked up as the chill in the air fanned over you. You saw his eyes sneaking glances at you.

Your fingers pulled at the tie cinching your shorts together. It came undone swiftly, loosening the fabric that lay loosely on your hips. You hooked your thumbs in the material and slid the clothing down slowly, revealing your bare lower half to him. 

“I guess I forgot to put something on under them,” you teased, spreading your legs to give him a full view of everything he was missing out on. At this point, he’d uncrossed his arms and turned more towards you. His fingers were clenching and unclenching into a fist, painting his knuckles white. 

“Theo, I’m so wet,” you moaned, sliding a finger down between your legs. You cringed internally at your words, knowing that they would harass you for months to come, but you were locked in now. You said you were going to win, and you were going to fucking win.

His lips parted at the sight, his eyes fluttering just a bit. The tips of your fingers ghosted over your core, pushing little shocks of pleasure up to your chest. You gasped softly at each touch. Your eyes found his once more. You plastered on the heaviest pleading look you could manage and bit your lip. This felt stupid, but he was eating it up. Your eyes never separated as you slid a single finger into your entrance. The sound it made caused a soft groan to spill from Theo’s lips. Your lips parted in a silent moan. Your head fell back, displaying your neck and collarbones. One of Theo’s favorite things about you. 

You heard an audible swallow from where he stood but refused to stop your movements. To be totally honest, you rarely pleasured yourself like this, as it didn’t do too much for you. But you figured this was just like pornography to him. Something he played in his mind when he stuck his hands beneath his trousers. 

“Touch your chest…and your neck, baby,” he whispered. You followed directions so fluidly, never losing the pace you had established with your other hand. You dragged your fingers over your chest and gently gripped your throat, sneaking a peek at him every so often. His trousers were becoming painfully swollen and every once in a while his hand would come down to readjust the fabric over himself. This was working a million times better than you thought it would. 

“What else, baby?” you moaned, making your voice breathless. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth, please,” he groaned out. You did just that, smirking as shudders ran down his arms. His eyes fluttered closed as he began to gently palm himself every once and a while. Never enough to do any true damage, just enough to give him a little bit of a jolt. 

You moved your lips and tongue over your fingers just as you would him. You even peppered in a few moans as the hand lined up with your entrance never ceased movement. You were not going to cum like this. You could do this all day…though you’d rather not. You had a few secrets shoved up your sleeve, but were saving those for last. However, considering how long the two of you had been here and how quickly Quidditch practice was approaching, you figured now was the time to pull out all of the stops. 

“Please come fuck me, baby,” you whined. “Need you so bad, please, Teddy.”

Number one, he loved that nickname, and, number two, he loved when you begged for him. You figured it was part of the boy mentality, they loved being needed. 

He groaned audibly, the pressure he was applying to himself intensified. He wanted to grab you and prove all of his stupid friends wrong. Half of them were probably virgins anyway, but he….he had the girl of his dreams spread out for him, needy and breathless and begging for him. Maybe this was just a stupid challenge….

That didn’t work. He barely even took a step forward. Damn it. Your fingers intensified and your mouth parted in a soft moan. You needed to use the one thing that always worked, even when he was the maddest he’d ever been. You knew what he craved to hear, though you didn’t use it often. To be honest, it sort of made you cringe, but you knew that it made him feel powerful.

“Please, I need you,” you whined. “Come fuck me, daddy…”

The hand palming himself halted and you watched, in live-action, as his eyes darkened considerably. He raised his hands to his belt buckle and made quick work of it. You giggled and leaned forward, removing your fingers from yourself. You helped him split the top of his jeans and slide them down. He shoved you back onto the bed and began to crawl over you. 

“You want me this bad, baby?” he placed a rough kiss on your lips. 

Your hands traced down his abdomen, feeling every taut ridge and valley. Your fingertips touched over his hipbones, across the waistband of his briefs, before slipping just beneath the material. His breath halted against your lips. Your cooled hands suddenly and beautifully wrapped around him, contrasting his intense heat with your wintery fingers. You slid your hand against him once, twice. Said his favorite name. And then he finished. With a desperate moan of your name and a clenched fist in your hair.

“Oh baby, good boy…,” you cooed and checked the time on his watch. “Really put those other guys in their place. You made it twelve hours.”

[ma1dita]

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real. 

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble. 

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?” 

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him. 

Idiot. 

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!” 

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!” 

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it���s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part. 

But that’s kind of the problem. 

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke. 

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!” 

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back. 

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound. 

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window. 

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?” 

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?” 

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy. 

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more? 

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling. 

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability. 

And who would want to love someone so difficult? 

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know? 

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape. 

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other). 

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on. 

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father. 

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….” 

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent. 

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…” 

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder. 

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

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[mbsneur]

Last Room Pt. 2

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: you hate alexia but your best friend Salma wants you to get along well with alexia

Warnings: Smut Ahead 18+

please read this text before going to the story (i‘m going to make a small series out of „last room“ so if you all want more parts let me know)

please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

Alexia turns you onto your back and looks into your gasping face. She places small kisses on your breasts, which makes your insides ache again. After a few kisses and light sucking, her head comes to the level of your head. "Bésame" she whispers to you before you take her face in your hands and your lips turn into a deep kiss you pull on Alexia's shirt to give her the signal to take it off she pushes your hands away from her and holds them tightly above your head you want more you want her feel again

Alexia lets go of your lips, breathing heavily, and her other hand finds its way to your hard nipples to pinch them. You let out a whimper right into her mouth, which makes her smile slightly. She takes your whole breast in her hand and kneads it lightly you moan and start to fidget with your legs to somehow create friction

you grab her shoulders making her look at you "ale fuck me"

"Do you want me to fuck the hate out of you mh?" She says and grabs your hands again so that you don't have a chance to touch her any way. "Please fuck me until I'm a good girl" with an eager nod. Alexia pushes your thighs apart with her knee

Alexia sits up and look down to you She looked at your whole body with a sparkle in her eyes like you were a goddess or something. She pulls her shirt over her head and her toned stomach appears. You knew that Alexia's body was magical But you've never seen him in this state before. Her upper body glistens slightly with her sweat. She slides her hands under your bottom to put you in the right position. She leans down and starts nibbling on the inside of your thigs

You gasp and Alexia's tongue slides over your thighs. Each touch of hers makes you twitch and whimper. Her big hands reach into your ass and lift you slightly. She knows exactly how to tease you perfectly so that you become a moaning mess. You thought this teasing never happened An end until finally her tongue shoots out and licks a long strip from your hole to your clitoris. You wince slightly and close your eyes to feel everything from Alexia

Alexia licked small circles around your clitoris and your whimpers begin to turn into moans Alexia smacks your pussy and lets a small moan from her lips the vibrations send waves from your clitoris into your head she finally starts to lick your clitoris precisely and Finally, taking it between her teeth and sucking on it with a little pressure, she allows you to put your hands in her hair to move it to where you need it most

your hips start rocking into her face she starts sucking on your clit harder you moan loudly "Alexia your tongue feels so good- f-fuck" you moan and she dips her tongue into your hole and circles your walls poking her nose against your clitoris which triggers the perfect pressure your breathing becomes more irregular and your hips start to twitch more "Alexia-please I'm so close it feels so good don't stop" Alexia doesn't let go of you she notices how tight your walls are around her tongue "come on my tongue" she says between licks and thrusts, your legs start to tremble and your back arches up so much that Alexia has to push you down a little so that she doesn't lose you, all the heat rises to your head and you scream loudly "ale I'm cumming fuck I-" you cum with a loud moan from her name all over her tongue she doesn't stop moving

You want to pull her away from your pussy by her hair, but her head presses harder into you and she takes in all your juices. Your overstimulated whimper turns into moans of pleasure. You know that she wants to make you come again. Her tongue still works precisely in your hole she makes your eyes roll and your hips rock again. you didn't know when the last orgasm ended but you notice how the new one increased your noises become pornographic "ale - I'm close" you warn and she looks in from below your glassy eyes she sees how you squirm and how close you are again "can I cum" you moan and look at her hurtfully "mh" she simply answers without teasing you any further your head hits back on the mattress and your legs twitch hard around her head your whole body moves from overstimulation, your vision goes black and you only notice the trembling that you have all over your body

Alexia moved away from you and you immediately felt the emptiness. You tried to feel for her. She placed herself next to you and brushed the strands of hair out of your face and gently kissed the way from your cheek to your ear. "Let's see what your cheeky mouth can still do other than being cheeky?"

It's very short I'm not in the mood to write but let me know if you all want a part 3 <3

[heavenbarnes]

under no circumstances did your simon want anyone from work knowing you existed.

far as the 141 (or anyone vaguely military) were concerned, simon was single.

when johnny tried to play matchmaker, he just assumed simon was guarded. when gaz harped on about this girl from his gym, he just assumed she wasn’t his type.

the boys lived with illusions of simon returning to an empty, sterile, sad excuse for a home. hardly a home, probably a shoebox of an apartment with the bare basics of furniture.

maybe a rhythmic drip of a faucet to keep him company.

never even an inkling of an idea that he might be coming home to you.

you who kept the home clean, but lived in- warm and loved in. soft things at every corner, soft bed you both slept in, soft couch for him to hold you on. doesn’t smell sterile, smells nice, smells like-

well, you.

it wasn’t shame, embarrassment- if he could, he’d tell any poor sod who’d listen just how much he adored you.

simon thought himself the luckiest fucker alive for even knowing you, let alone loving you. he’d die a thousand lonely times if he did anything to lose you.

safety.

“this job doesn’t lend itself to lovers” price’s voice had rung loud in his head.

he knew his captain was right, he trusted his word more than he trusted his own mind. but his captain hadn’t met you yet.

he hadn’t seen that look you could give him, fluttering lashes and a hazy smile. he hadn’t felt the way you held him, when the days were long and his actions were unforgivable.

he didn’t know that you’d forgive every terrible thing simon had ever done, without a second thought.

you weren’t just a lover, you were the start and end of it all. his big bang.

nobody was ever supposed to know you existed.

simon had been so careful, so fucking careful- he’d suffered days and nights keeping your existence secret. it still wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t johnny’s fault, he didn’t blame johnny but that was one person who knew you in the greater context of “ghost.”

one too many.

“d’ya know L.T’s got a pretty thing at home?”

gaz had laughed, laying another card on the table as he did it.

“and who’d that be? her majesty the queen?”

price even snorted a chuckle out his nose, surveying the hand he was sure to play.

“wouldn’t give me a name, all he’d give me w’sweetheart”

“simon’s got a sweetheart named sweetheart? yeah, and i’ve got a chance at beating the captain”

sweetheart.

security measure two, when the first fails. no names, an alias that was easy to remember. no slip ups.

thankfully, everyone thought johnny had been chatting shit (as he often did) and didn’t care to push further.

but rumours only grow.

simon felt like he was living his life checking around corners. he was used to it at work, but when he was home he was meant to be free.

he couldn’t breathe knowing you could be compromised- that there was a chance he could lose you when he feels like he only just found you.

and when you were finally compromised? hell hath no fury.

there was only one option, they wouldn’t stop hunting you. they knew you were the only thing simon was scared to lose. to him, there was no other way.

price’s hands might’ve shook as he placed the folded flag in your hands, royal blue and silken. returning his mask to its rightful home, skull plate staring back at you.

where his eyes should be.

“if there is anything we can do”

all you could do was a blank stare right through him- show no emotion, show no fear. simon’s words were banging around your head.

that unmistakable feeling of eyes on your back as you retreated, carrying what was left of “ghost” back to your home. to your bed, military corners still tucked perfectly.

gently laying the flag to rest, running the mask through your fingers. what could a ghost really feel like?

bringing it to your lips, pressing a sweet kiss to its centre- where you usually might, before you’d send him off to fight for his country, always assuming he’d come home.

he’d been so careful, it wasn’t enough, everything had changed.

he had to change.

he let you pull the mask over his face, tracing the shape of the skull under a gentle finger tip. standing on your toes to press a kiss-

right between the eyes.

“something isn’t right, he kept this secret damn near the whole time we knew him- he dies and suddenly it all falls in our laps?”

gaz and johnny tailing price as he tore through the base, your file tucked under his arm. thin wee thing that it was, barely enough to piece together an idea.

might as well be chasing ghosts.

“simon sacrificed his life to keep that one safe, why the fuck would he let the details out? when he’s not alive to protect-“

the door was nearly off its hinges with the three men bursting through, putting the fear right through the wee thing at the desk.

“where are simon riley’s ashes?”

“oh, i’m sorry- they’ve already been claimed”

“who? by who?”

whilst the poor girl was gingerly sliding the record towards price, johnny was letting himself into the back room. a space that’d once contained simon’s urn, empty spare the twisted plastic full of fine grey dust.

“cap’n, you’re gonna’ want t’see this”

gaz was nearly vaulting the counter, snatching the ashes out of johnny’s trembling hand.

men with precision aim reduced to a murmur.

“who the fuck did we cremate?”

both men looking to their captain for- for what? help? a fucking clue as to what they’ve really got themselves into?

no use.

price was running a finger down the log book, settling on the name “simon ‘ghost’ riley.” signed out within the hour, only thing left being some poor fucker’s ashes and a set of initials.

signed out by S.H

S.H

sweetheart.

[justabigassnerd]

Worth The Risk

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 14.5k

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, Mav is a wee bit overprotective, mentions of Goose and Carole, allusion to smut at the end

Summary - in visiting your dad in Miramar you rekindle your friendship with Bradley Bradshaw, which yields unexpected results

A/N - sooo... it's a bit of a big one here lads. I wish I could tell y'all how I achieved such a feat but believe me I have no clue how I did this. this was a request sent in by @talesofreading so I hope I did the idea justice (and I'm so so so sorry it took me so long to write it in the first place). I won't ramble so as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

“Yes dad, I’m at the gate now and we’re due to board in ten minutes or so.” You say with a breathy laugh after your dad finishes asking you what feels like a hundred questions about your flight. You were visiting your dad, Pete Mitchell, in San Diego while you had some time off work. After completing your studies at college, you had landed a good gig working as a nurse in a hospital in Chicago. You had grown up sure you weren’t going to follow in your father’s footsteps and so found yourself studying medicine and making a career out of it. It was hard when your dad was constantly deployed after pissing off Admiral after Admiral, but he did make the effort to visit you when he could and now that he was settled in San Diego, you decided you’d give him a visit.

“I’ll be at the airport when you land. I’ll see you soon sweetheart.” Maverick says a smile on his face as he thinks about how in a few hours you’ll be here in person.

“I’ll see you soon, dad. I love you.” You say, smiling as you hear your dad bid you one last goodbye before you hang up. After hanging up, you look out the window, seeing the plane you’d soon be boarding. You wait patiently at the gate, passport and boarding pass in hand as you survey the people surrounding you, little groups of people, family or friends, excitedly chatting about their trip and what they’re going to get up to, couples discussing similar topics, and businesspeople, making last minute calls or typing hurriedly on their laptops.

Before long, the call for boarding to begin comes over the loudspeaker and one by one a group is called up to have their passes checked and board the plane. Eventually, you are able to board and find your seat, settling down in it and tucking your bag away while patiently waiting for the journey to begin.

Soon enough, the boarding process is completed, and the plane begins to crawl towards the runway, patiently waiting for its turn to go. Within a couple of minutes, the plane gets onto the runway, and speeds along until it’s able to take off. You watch the ground get smaller and the clouds appear. You knew you inherited a love of flying from your dad, but your love for it never pushed you to make a career out of it. You watched the clouds pass you by while you listened to your music.

After just over four hours, the plane touched down in San Diego and you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you saw the beautifully sunny weather. You disembarked the plane and made your way to baggage claim and waited with the rest of the people from the flight until your bag comes around on the conveyor belt. You grab your bag and follow the signs to where you know you’ll be able to find your dad.  You enter the spacious area, eyes searching the sea of gathered people, quickly locating your dad’s familiar jacket and you swear your smile couldn’t get any wider. You lock eyes with Maverick, and he waves before making his way over to you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Was the flight okay?” He asks, sweeping you up in a hug, holding you close as you reciprocate the embrace.

“Hey, dad. The flight was fine.” You reply, squeezing him that little bit tighter before releasing him from the hug, taking the handle of your luggage and following your dad to the car park and letting him lead you to his car.

“New car?” You ask, an amused tone to your voice as you take in the sight of the car.

“I wouldn’t say new. Figured the bike would pose a problem so I had to take the car.” Maverick says with a chuckle, unlocking the car and loading your bags into the back of the car before you get into the passenger seat, and he gets into the driver’s seat.

The drive back to Maverick’s house wasn’t long and the scenery was beautiful. You had spent a little bit of time in Miramar when you were younger, but you don’t remember much of it since you only spent a few short months there before moving away again. You were silently glad your dad had found a place to settle down and that you could finally visit him after the countless times he had come to visit you.

“You probably don’t remember much about Miramar, huh?” Maverick muses softly, glancing at you quickly, noticing your enamoured expression before returning his focus to the road.

“I don’t. But it’s so gorgeous.” You say with a grin, taking in the views, your smile widening as you take in the sight of the beach.

“I’ll make sure we go to all the best places.” Maverick says, a smile on his face as he begins to turn up the road he lived on and then soon parks in his driveway. You get out of the car and by the time you get to the back of the car, Maverick has already unloaded your bags and leads you into his house.

The house was small yet perfect for Maverick, he’d decorated it with pictures from his time at Top Gun and pictures of you growing up. He shows you upstairs and to the room you’ll be staying in.

“I’ll let you settle in. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Maverick says softly before excusing himself and heading downstairs while you stay put in the middle of the room. After a brief minute, you cross to the window, taking in the view and opening the window slightly so you can hear the breeze and birds singing while you got settled in. You unpacked some of your essentials before deciding you wanted to go and hang out with your dad while you had the time with him. You head downstairs and find Maverick sat on the sofa in the living room, smiling over at you.

“I’m still feeling pretty cramped from the flight. Are you okay if I go for a walk?” You ask, smiling as Maverick nods.

“Of course, do you want me to go with you?” He offers, already bracing his hands on either side of him ready to push himself up off the sofa.

“It’s okay, you can relax.” You say, watching as Maverick stays put, thinking to himself before speaking up.

“Don’t get lost, okay?” He says with a chuckle.

“I’m not as old as you so I can rely on my phone to keep me from getting lost.” You say with a cheeky grin, pulling your phone out of your pocket and waving it to emphasise your point, laughing at your dad’s expression of mock shock.

“You cheeky shit.” He says, breaking into a laugh and rolling his eyes as you pocket your phone.

“You know I love you.” You say with a grin, starting to head towards the front door.

“I love you too. Text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll start on dinner.” Maverick says, waving you off and you grab a spare key before exiting the house and letting your feet dictate where you go.

You find yourself wandering until you reach the beach, and you find yourself smiling as you see the families on the beach, lying on towels or playing in the sand and sea. You wished you could remember the times you had spent on that same beach but all you had was photos and stories your dad had told you. As you walk alongside the beach, take in the gorgeous sights as the golden sun starts to lower in the sky.

Eventually, you find yourself near a bar, it looks like a Navy bar to you just judging by the amount of people in khaki uniforms going in and out of the bar. You stood still for a moment, watching the people going in and out, wondering if your dad or anyone on his new squadron visited that bar. As you watch the bar, you catch sight of someone in a Hawaiian shirt standing on the decking just outside the bar. You didn’t mean to stare at the stranger, but you hadn’t seen anyone since Goose wearing a Hawaiian shirt so clearly this man had good taste and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the sight.

Before too long, the stranger caught sight of you, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you realised, he was looking in your direction. Truthfully, you had no idea if he was actually looking at you or at something behind you because of his aviators hiding his eyes but the idea of this guy catching you looking at him was enough of a scare to get you to turn tail and begin your journey back to your dad’s house, shooting him a text to let him know you were on your way home.

In about twenty minutes, you enter Maverick’s house and are immediately greeted with the smell of cooking food, and you immediately know he is making you your favourite meal.

“Smells good.” You say with a wide smile, finding the kitchen and standing in the doorway, watching as your dad diligently works on the food.

“I had to make you your favourite.” Maverick replies, glancing over at you with a smile before returning his attention back to the food. You decide to help your dad out a bit and set the table and get drinks out. By the time you’ve set the table with cutlery and drinks, Maverick has finished the food and begins plating up the meals, handing you a plate with a smile. The two of you sit down at the table and eat your meals, chatting throughout and enjoying each other’s company. When you finish your meals, you help clean up, putting the dishes in the dishwasher despite Maverick’s insistence that you don’t have to. As he tells you what felt like the thousandth time to let him do it, the doorbell rang.

“Let me clean up, you answer the door.” You say, pointing towards the front door with a chuckle before turning back to the dishwasher, loading it carefully and wiping down the surfaces while you hear the muffled voices coming through from the hall.

“y/n, look who it is!” You turn and look through the doorway to see your dad entering the living room and behind him is a man sporting a shirt that looks incredibly familiar.

“I thought it was you I saw by the beach!” You couldn’t believe it. You were standing face-to-face with Bradley Bradshaw. Someone you thought you were never going to see again after that night he had screamed in your dad’s face about never wanting to see him again and leaving your house with the door slamming behind him. But here he was, standing in front of you with a huge smile and bright eyes. He’d changed a lot in the time that’s passed, he was definitely more muscular, and he had some new scars decorating his face, but above everything, he looked much more attractive than you remember him being.

“Bradley, I didn’t even recognise you!” You exclaim happily, accepting the offered hug instantly, clinging to Bradley and relishing in how gently he wrapped his arms around you, his chest rumbling with a gentle laugh.

“I almost didn’t recognise you. If I hadn’t of caught you staring, I probably wouldn’t have known you were here at all.” Bradley replies, both of you pulling apart when you hear Maverick’s amused scoff.

“Staring?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t staring. I just noticed the Hawaiian shirt and it made me think of Goose.” You explain, rolling your eyes at your dad as both men laugh softly.

“Well, I’m happy to report that my dad’s impeccable fashion sense did in fact get passed down to me.” Bradley says, shrugging with a chuckle.

“So, what brings you by? Or was it just the fact you thought you saw me, so you came here to test your theory.” You ask, folding your arms across your chest as you raise an eyebrow with an amused smile.

“Maybe I was testing a theory, but I wasn’t exactly wrong.” Bradley admits, grinning as Maverick rolls his eyes jokingly.

“You could’ve called or texted if you wanted to know if she was here.” Maverick says, looking up at Bradley.

“I know but I haven’t seen her in a while, so I wanted to swing by.” Bradley says unapologetically.

“I’ll give you that one.” Maverick admits, nodding his head in approval as he turns to head into the kitchen to grab himself a beer.

“Hey, tomorrow would you like to grab a drink with me at the Hard Deck?” Bradley offers, a soft smile on his face as he awaits your response.

“Sure, it would be great to catch up after so long.” You say with a smile, more than happy to spend some time with Bradley now that you know he’s in the area.

“Great! I’ll swing by tomorrow and we’ll head down together. Is six, okay?” Bradley asks, offering a time.

“Six is perfect.” You say, your smile widening by the second, excited at the thought of spending the evening with Bradley.

“I’ll see you then.” Bradley says, giving you another hug before he leaves you and Maverick, closing the door behind him and signalling that he has gone. Once he’s gone you turn to face your dad, shocked to see his raised eyebrow.

“Don’t date an aviator.” Maverick says simply, making your jaw drop in shock.

“Dad, what?” You stammer, feeling your cheeks quickly heating up at the simple statement your dad said.

“You heard me. Don’t date an aviator. It won’t go well.” Maverick repeats himself, making you even more flustered.

“Okay, firstly, me and Bradley are going out for a friendly catch-up, we haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen. Secondly, I’m not a child so I can date whoever I want, aviator or not.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest as you stare down your dad.

“I’m just trying to protect you, sweetheart. I am an aviator, so I know what they’re like. It’s better if you steer clear of dating them. I saw how you were looking at Bradley and it’s best you don’t even try.” Maverick says, sticking to his guns and trying to explain himself.

“I appreciate that, dad. But I am an adult now, let me make mistakes and figure things out for myself.” You argue, raising an eyebrow as you continue to argue your point with your dad. Instead of responding, your dad just smiled softly before walking past you and heading upstairs. As his footsteps grow quieter as he disappears upstairs, you let out a soft sigh. You weren’t even going on a proper date with Bradley. It was just a friendly catch-up between two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. Right?

Six pm the next day couldn’t have come sooner for you. You had spent the day visiting some of your dad’s favourite spots with him. You had lunch together and he even managed to coerce you into taking a quick tour of his hangar. When you had got home you had spent way too long deciding on what you wanted to wear, trying to find something that was cute but didn’t make you look like you were trying to impress Bradley. Eventually, you find an outfit that fits what you’re going for and you put it on, smiling as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You knew it wasn’t a date but the mere thought of getting to spend time with Bradley after so long was making you giddy. Just as you finish freshening up, you hear the doorbell ring and just by checking the time you knew it was Bradley and you immediately began to make your way downstairs. As you were heading downstairs you could hear a muffled conversation between Bradley and Maverick, but they stopped talking as soon as Bradley caught sight of you.

“y/n… you look… wow.” Bradley stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say.

“I’m hoping that’s a good wow.” You say with a soft laugh, smiling up at Bradley.

“It’s definitely a good wow, you look beautiful.” Bradley says, a sheepish smile covering his face as he looks at you and you feel your cheeks heating up at his shy compliment. The moment was then disturbed by Maverick clearing his throat.

“So, I’ll see you when you get back. Keep her safe, Bradley.” Maverick says, softly smiling at you before turning to look at Bradley who straightens up ever so slightly at Maverick’s gaze.

“Of course, I will, Mav.” Bradley says as you both move towards the door, bidding your dad one last goodbye before you exit the house, stepping into the warm evening air and beginning the walk to the Hard Deck, making small talk on your way to the bar.

The walk that had been twenty minutes the day before felt like it was five minutes when you were walking with Bradley. You were having so much fun spending time with him again after so long. Eventually, you reach the Hard Deck and Bradley guides you to a table, finding the quietest corner in the bar and pulling the chair out for you to sit down at, making you smile shyly.

“Thank you.” You say softly, sitting down on the chair.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. Do you want some fries as well or something?” Bradley says, still standing as he looks down at you.

“I’ll take a beer if that’s okay and fries sound nice.” You say with a smile as Bradley nods, turning and making his way to the bar.

“Hey Penny, could I get two beers and put in an order for fries?” Bradley asks, leaning up against the bar and smiling at Penny as she approaches.

“Of course, am I starting a tab?” Penny asks, handing Bradley two beers and taking his card in return, watching as he nods in response.

“Yes please.” Bradley confirms as Penny nods, tucking his card away someplace safe for the duration of his time at the bar.

“And what table am I taking the fries to when they’re done?” Penny asks as she hands the order to one of her employees before turning back to Bradley.

“Just that one over there.” Bradley says, pointing out the table and Penny leans over the bar slightly, following where Bradley was pointing before her eyes widen in shock slightly.

“Is that y/n?” Penny asks, remembering how she’d seen you a few times when you were younger.

“It is. She’s visiting Mav for a bit, and I haven’t seen her in years, so I figured we’d catch up over drinks.” Bradley explains, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he briefly glances over at you seeing you entertaining yourself on your phone before turning his attention back to Penny.

“A catch-up, huh?” Penny asks, an amused smile on her face as Bradley blushes slightly his gaze flicking down to the bar counter before looking back up at Penny as he licks his lips nervously.

“Don’t you start. I’ve already had Mav warn me away from her.” Bradley says with a joking roll of the eyes as he takes the beer bottles and heads back over to the table placing a beer in front of you and then sitting down in the chair opposite you.

“I was beginning to think you’d run away or something.” You say with a laugh, putting your phone away and holding the beer bottle in between your hands loosely.

“Never. I was just catching up with Penny.” Bradley says, lifting his beer bottle and tipping it lightly in Penny’s direction.

“Penny’s here?” You ask, turning in your seat and looking over at where Bradley had been pointing, smiling as you catch sight of Penny working at the bar seeing her catch sight of a patron and smiling as they approach.

“She was pretty excited when she realised you were here, so I’d imagine she’ll come over soon enough.” Bradley says, taking a sip from his beer bottle as you turn back around to face him.

“I don’t doubt it.” You say with a chuckle, taking a sip of your own beer as the two of you fall into a brief silence.

“So, how have you been? What have you been up to in these last few years?” Bradley asks, head tilted slightly in his curiosity.

“Well, the Navy wasn’t really my thing, so I just went to college and ended up pursuing medicine and now I’m a nurse over in Chicago. What about you?” You say, explaining what you’ve been up to since you last saw him.

“You’ve probably figured out I’m an aviator now, but I did go off to college after the whole thing with Mav. But I’m finally where I want to be and now, I’ve got a permanent squad and a place to call home.” Bradley explains, smiling softly to himself as he thinks of how far he’s come.

“That’s incredible. I know Goose and Carole are so proud of you.” You say, reaching over and gently resting a hand on Bradley’s arm, fighting the growing heat under your cheeks at the contact yet completely missing Bradley’s slight blush too.

“Thank you. You’ve done well for yourself getting a job in Chicago. I’m proud of you.” Bradley says, getting the bravery to rest a hand on top of yours, encapsulating your hand with the warmth emitting from his.

“Thank you, Bradley.” You reply softly, unable to contain your smile.

“So… have you got anyone back home? Any partners or anything?” Bradley asks, flushing a bit redder at the boldness of the question and fights to hide his relief when you shake your head with a slight chuckle.

“No. I’ve been single since college. What about you Mr. Aviator? You’ve surely got girls throwing themselves at your feet.” You say, retracting your hand from underneath Bradley’s both of you trying not to show any upset at the lack of contact.

“Throwing themselves at my feet? Well, you’re not entirely wrong with that. But I’m just waiting for the right girl to come along.” Bradley says with a soft shrug, making your heart pound just that little bit faster at the revelation that he is single.

“Here’s your fries.” You look up at the familiar voice and can’t stop your smile from widening when you see Penny placing the small basket of fries on the table and you instantly get out of your seat to give her a hug.

“Penny it’s been so long!” You exclaim happily, grinning as she wraps her arms around you, reciprocating the hug.

“It really has, hasn’t it?” Penny says with a laugh, pulling away to hold you at arm’s length.

“If I had known you were here, I would’ve swung by sooner. Somehow dad neglected to tell me that you worked here. He had mentioned you were in the area though.” You explain as Penny shakes her head with a laugh.

“I know what your father is like so don’t worry. I won’t interrupt your time with Bradley, sweetie. Enjoy your night and if you need anything, let me know.” Penny says, giving you one last hug before making her way back over to the bar to continue serving customers. You and Bradley then dig into the fries, continuing to chat as you eat.

You had no idea how long you were at the bar with Bradley, but it felt like mere seconds when you were with him. You knew you had a slight crush on Bradley way back when you were teenagers, but it had been pushed to the back of your mind in the last few years with how life had been. But just seeing Bradley and spending time with him had brought all those feelings back and they were stronger than ever.

What you didn’t know was that Bradley felt the exact same way. Only he was struggling with the warning Maverick had issued him when he turned up to pick you up. Maverick had warned him away from you, saying he didn’t want you dating an aviator. But for you, Bradley was more than willing to go against Maverick’s warnings and risk angering him.

“I’m going to close up my tab and I’ll take you home, okay?” Bradley says after clearing his throat and you nod, waiting patiently as he crosses to the bar and closes out his tab with Penny before he crosses back over to you. When you noticed Bradley coming over you got up, following him through the bar, bidding Penny goodbye as you passed.

Exiting into the cool night are you were suddenly aware of how long you had spent at the bar with Bradley now that the moon had replaced the sun. However, you didn’t even mind. With the evening now much quieter than the previous environment of the bustling bar, you and Bradley were able to walk and talk quietly, feeling like your conversations were much more private now.

Much earlier than you would’ve liked to, you wound up at the end of the driveway to your dad’s house and you felt your heart sinking at the finality of the end of the night.

“I had a great night tonight.” You say, turning to look up at Bradley with a smile, grateful for the evening you had with him.

“So did I. It was great to catch up.” Bradley replies with a soft smile of his own.

“It was. I just wish it never had to end.” You admit softly, eyes flicking to the ground before looking back at Bradley.

“Me too. But what if we did this again sometime before you go back to Chicago? Maybe like a date?” Bradley says, biting the bullet and deciding to just go for it instead of losing his chance. But when Bradley saw the hesitation on your face, he began to second guess himself. Had he completely misinterpreted how the night had gone?

“I’d really like that, Bradley. But…” You begin, glancing over at the front door before looking back over at Bradley who softens.

“Mav told you not to date aviators.” Bradley says, nodding in understanding.

“I’m not fussed about that rule, he can’t control me. I just don’t want this to ruin your relationship with him. You just made up after everything that happened, and I’m scared I’ll ruin it.” You admit, wanting to do what you can to protect Bradley from your dad’s protectiveness.

“You won’t ruin anything. I’ve never really been one for listening to Mav’s rules anyway. I think it’s worth the risk.” Bradley says quietly, as if your dad was nearby and listening in to your conversation, while he also reached out and interlocked your hands gently smiling so softly at you that you were sure you’d melt into a puddle right there and then.

“I think it’s worth the risk too.” You admit with a smile, blushing slightly as Bradley squeezes your hand softly at your agreement.

“How about in a couple of days’ time, we have our date? I’ll find us a nice spot and I’ll text you the details.” Bradley says, growing quieter near the end of his sentence.

“You don’t have my number.” You say with a giggle, digging in your jacket pocket for your phone, unlocking it and finding your number before holding it out towards Bradley who hurriedly digs in his pocket for his phone, almost dropping it at the speed at which he pulled the phone out before typing your number into his phone and creating a contact for you.

“Done.” Bradley says with a large smile as you turn your phone off and put it back in your pocket while Bradley mirrors your actions.

“I’ll see you around.” You say softly, knowing you should head into the house and let Bradley get home himself.

“I’ll text you. Goodnight, y/n.” Bradley says softly, extending his arms for a hug which you accept almost instantly, silently loving the way Bradley’s arms wrap around you and make you feel safe.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You whisper before pulling away from the hug and heading up the path to the front door and unlocking the door, glancing over your shoulder and smiling at Bradley for one last time that night as he smiles back and offers you one last wave before you disappear inside. Maverick had clearly left the hall lights on for you so you could navigate the house and you made your way upstairs to your room, making sure you turned off the lights as you went. Once you reach your room, you change into your pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed. Then you return back to your room and climb into your bed, pulling the covers over you and grab your phone, smiling at the text that displayed as an unknown number, but you knew it was Bradley.

‘Thank you again for a great night. I’ve not had this much fun in a long time.’

‘It’s Bradley by the way.’

You couldn’t help but giggle at the second text, imagining the brief panic on Bradley’s face after he hit send on the first message without clarifying it was him.

‘Me neither, it was nice to catch up :).’

‘Let me know when you’re home safe.’

You found yourself double texting Bradley in return, wanting to make sure you know when Bradley gets home safe. While you waited for Bradley to text you back, you texted one of your closest friends from Chicago and told her about how your evening had gone and as you expected, she was very eager to hear everything and demanded to know what Bradley was like and whether you liked him. While you were explaining how the evening went, a text from Bradley came through.

‘I’m happy to say I made it home.’

You couldn’t stop your thumbs from typing a speedy response to Bradley’s text.

‘I’m glad you made it home safe. Although I’m sure being a big strong Navy man means you’re safer than most when walking home.’

You knew calling Bradley a ‘big strong Navy man’ was probably a bit of a step too far but your thumbs were typing quicker than your brain could comprehend and you only realised what you had typed when you had hit send on the message. Just as you were beginning to type an apology, a text came through from Bradley.

‘Oh, I’m a big strong Navy man, am I?’

He knew what he was doing, and you did very little to fight back the heat growing under your cheeks.

‘You know what I meant.’

You had no idea how long you had been texting Bradley that night. You had woken up the next morning with your phone under your hand as you woke up to Maverick knocking on your door, asking if you wanted any breakfast. After responding to your dad, you flipped your phone over, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face when you saw the good morning text from Bradley. You replied to the message as you kicked your covers back, stretching before throwing a hoodie on over your pyjamas and heading downstairs to where your dad was preparing breakfast for you.

“Morning, dad.” You say with a smile, sitting at the table as Maverick places a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” Maverick asks, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before returning his attention to his own food.

“I slept well thanks, how about you?” You reply, beginning to dig into your breakfast as Maverick finishes plating up his food, crossing to the table to sit opposite you.

“I slept well. How was your evening with Bradley? Penny mentioned she saw you.” Maverick asks, glancing across at you as you smile.

“It was nice to catch up with him. And yes, I did see Penny. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she worked there.” You say with a chuckle, hoping your dad doesn’t read between the lines too much and instead focuses on Penny.

“Well, I didn’t anticipate you going to the Hard Deck so soon. I was going to invite Penny and Amelia over at some point.” Maverick admits with a light shrug and a grin as you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I’d love to see them and have a proper catch up.” You say in agreement before eating another mouthful of food. You continue to chat with your dad until you both finish your food, and you tidy everything away before you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out, smiling when you see the text from Bradley.

“What’s got you all smiley?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Oh, just a friendly text from Bradley.” You lie, acting as if you hadn’t just read the text from Bradley confirming the time and place of your date tomorrow.

“Just friendly? Good.” Maverick says turning away and missing you rolling your eyes at his statement.

“Yeah, we know your rule.” You say, wishing your dad wasn’t as stubborn as he was, but you were also a Mitchell and held that same stubbornness, hence why you were so adamantly going against his rule. You typed out a hurried reply to Bradley’s text, telling him that the time and place he had picked sounded great and that you couldn’t wait to have your date.

You spent your day on the beach with Maverick, getting in some tanning time as you read. Penny ended up coming out to meet you with Amelia in tow. You spent time catching up with the mother-and-daughter duo, unable to believe how much Amelia had grown since you last saw her, and you loved getting to hear what she had been up to in recent years. Amelia even managed to convince you into going in the sea with her and you couldn’t help but smile and laugh with her as she attempted to splash you.

When you tired of the sea you returned to your towel, drying yourself off and sitting back down to join in with your dad and Penny’s conversations. And you didn’t miss how both your dad and Penny were acting around each other. You could tell they liked each other, they just needed to act on it.

Eventually, you and Maverick headed home after bidding Penny and Amelia goodbye, promising to keep in touch even after you head back to Chicago. And when you get home you open your phone to see messages from Bradley and you reply to them as quickly as possible, apologising for how long it had taken you to respond and picking up the conversation right up from where it had been left off. You loved texting Bradley; he could make you smile and blush like he was right there in front of you having a proper face-to-face conversation. You didn’t like that you had to lie to your dad about what you were talking about with Bradley, but he had chosen to come up with this stupid rule that had you and Bradley sneaking around like a pair of teenagers. But Bradley was worth the risk.

The next day you were in serious planning mode, you had to figure out a way to get out of the house without your dad asking too many questions or catching on to what you were going out to do. You knew the restaurant Bradley had picked wasn’t super fancy so you could get away with a nice, cute outfit that wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from your dad and maybe you could get away with saying it was another friendly hang out. Maybe you could talk Penny into hanging out with Maverick to distract him and also potentially give them the opportunity to confess their own feelings after seeing the way they skirted around each other. You had conversed with Bradley about this dilemma, and he had offered to meet you at the end of your road instead of coming to the door and you knew that was more than likely the best option you had. If this date went well and there was another, you knew your dad would get suspicious about Bradley constantly turning up at the door. After some careful planning, you and Bradley had come up with the most effective plan to ensure that Maverick did not catch on to your evening plans.

By the time the evening came around, you had already planted seeds with your dad, telling him you wanted to go on an evening walk because you promised your friend a video tour of the sights of Miramar. With that in place, you had changed into the outfit you had picked for the date and texted Bradley that you were on your way out.

“You’re heading out then?” Maverick asks, smiling at you from where he was sat on the sofa and you smile over at him, grabbing the spare keys.

“Yep! Don’t worry about waiting up for me. Katie and I can chat for hours once we get going. Maybe you could invite Penny over or something?” You suggest, fighting the urge to smirk when you see your dad blush slightly at your question.

“You figured that out quickly, huh?” Maverick asks with a soft chuckle.

“You think I’d miss something as obvious as that? Nice try.” You say with a laugh, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out to find a message from Bradley, letting you know he was at the end of the road waiting for you.

“Look, I have to go. Call Penny.” You say, pointing at your dad with a joking warning finger before leaving the house, looking up and down the road until you spot a figure waiting at one end of the road and head towards them, knowing instantly that it was Bradley. You make your way towards him, your smile widening when he notices you, revealing a bunch of flowers he had behind his back.

“Hey.” Bradley says softly, smiling as you take the flowers.

“Hey.” You reply, admiring the beautiful flowers Bradley had picked out, he had assembled a bouquet of red carnations, it was simple but so beautiful and you couldn’t help but love Bradley just that little bit more because of it.

“I hope those flowers are okay.” Bradley says sheepishly, offering an arm out for you to take which you do so happily, letting him lead you to where he had parked his beloved Bronco nearby and opening the passenger side door for you, letting you get in the car before closing the door, rounding the car and getting in the driver's seat, starting up the engine and beginning the drive to the little restaurant Bradley had picked. The drive wasn’t too long, and you chatted the whole way. When you reached the restaurant, Bradley insisted you stayed put while he went and opened your door for you, telling you that you could leave the flowers on the seat for now before closing the door behind you and leading you into the restaurant.

“Hi, I have a reservation, should be under Bradshaw.” Bradley greets the host with a smile who consults the list in front of him before instructing you to both follow him. You follow him through the restaurant with Bradley by your side. You were shocked to find that Bradley had managed to reserve a table by a large window so you could overlook the beach and ocean, able to see the sun beginning its descent over the horizon.

“Bradley, this is amazing!” You say, unable to keep the excitement from your tone as Bradley yet again pulls your chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before tucking the chair a little closer to the table before going to his own seat.

“I wanted to make sure we had a good first date.” Bradley admits with a light shrug as he eases himself down into his seat, both of you picking up your menus in tandem, letting out a soft chuckle as you do so. You both scan the menus, talking about which meals sounded good before you both eventually came to a decision on meals and a drink. When the waiter comes around asking if you’re ready to order, both you and Bradley nod and ever the gentleman, Bradley lets you order first before ordering his own food and drink. The waiter writes down your orders before dismissing himself with the promise to return with your drinks, so you and Bradley pick up your conversation, both of you overwhelmingly happy with how the evening is going even if the date had only just started. Soon enough, the waiter returns with the drinks, placing them in front of you before dismissing himself again to serve other customers while your food is being prepared. By the time the food had arrived, you were sure that had you been on a date with anyone else, you would’ve run out of things to say but since it was Bradley, the conversation flowed naturally, and you never seemed to have a lull in the conversation even once and before too long your food arrived, and you both began to dig in.

“I never asked the other day. But how are you finding Chicago?” Bradley asks after a mouthful of food.

“It’s good. Obviously, I’ve been out there a while but I’m enjoying myself. I have some great friends out there, but I do feel quite far away from dad sometimes.” You admit, eyes flicking down to your plate before looking back up at Bradley who smiles in understanding.

“I get that. It’s hard to be away from family.” Bradley says, a soft understanding tone to his voice which makes you feel awful. You knew he had lost both his parents before he even reached the age of eighteen.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No don’t worry, honestly. It’s good. The more I talk about them the easier it gets.” Bradley says with a gentle smile, letting you know there were no hard feelings about it. With the topic settled, you were able to start a new conversation and the rest of the night ran smoothly. When it came to paying the bill, you went to get your card out, hand reaching to hand it to the waiter, but Bradley was quicker, gently taking your card from your hand and giving his card to the waiter instead.

“Bradley, come on I can pay.” You insist, your pleas in vain as the waiter begins to process the payment with Bradley’s card.

“I asked you on this date. It’s on me.” Bradley retorts with a grin, thanking the waiter as his card is handed back to him, finally giving your card back to you, chuckling as you huff lightly. Once everything is confirmed to have gone through, you’re given the freedom to leave and Bradley gets up first and you follow, letting him guide you through the bustling restaurant until you reach the cool night air of the outside world. You head back to the Bronco, of course letting Bradley open your door for you again. On the journey back, you both continue to talk with each other, even singing along lightly to one of the songs that come over the radio. By the time Bradley pulled up on the end of your road you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink at the realisation that the date was over. You had the best time with Bradley, and you wished you could spend more time with him. Once again, Bradley made you wait for him to open your door before you got out of the Bronco, this time you brought the flowers with you.

“I had the best night, Bradley.” You admit softly, smiling as Bradley smiles in response.

“So did I. Do you think we could have a second date?” Bradley asks, a slight sheepishness to his tone as he asks.

“I’d love to. This time, I’m picking the place and I’m paying.” You insist, pointing a joking finger at him as he laughs and shakes his head.

“Alright, you can pick. I’ll still come by and pick you up though.” Bradley replies, raising an eyebrow as you let out a soft sigh and nod.

“Deal.” You say, holding your free hand out for Bradley to shake which he does so.

“Deal.” Bradley agrees, squeezing your hand ever so softly before letting go.

“I’ll text you the details.” You say as Bradley nods.

“Got it. I can’t wait.” He replies, smiling as you nod in response.

“Good night, Bradley.” You say softly.

“Good night, y/n.” Bradley replies, his voice matching yours in softness. Just as you turn to head back to your dad’s house, you decide to turn to face Bradley and then kiss his cheek softly before whispering one last good night and heading back to Maverick’s house. As you head back to the house, you missed Bradley flushing a deep red with an awestruck smile on his face, watching as you walked down the road, unaware of the effect you had on him.

When you reached your dad’s house, you noticed that his bike was absent which made you tilt your head slightly in confusion before just deciding to shrug it off and enter the house. You were surprised to find none of the lights on, you flipped them on and found a note on the little shelf where the key bowl was. You opened the note and saw your dad’s scratchy handwriting, informing you that he’d gone to Penny’s house, making your eyebrows raise slightly in shock.

“Didn’t think he’d actually listen to me.” You mutter to yourself, heading through the house to try and find something in the kitchen that could act as a vase for the beautiful flowers Bradley had gotten for you. After searching for a few minutes, you were able to find something that would work and you filled it with water, putting the flowers in before heading upstairs to your room. You place the flowers on the bedside table before getting changed and then heading into the bathroom to clean your face and brush your teeth before getting into bed. You chose to stay up for a while to text Bradley before you both eventually decided to go to bed with the promise of talking in the morning.

The next morning, you woke up and were somewhat unsurprised to find that your dad was still out, so you looked around in the kitchen and found some food to make yourself some breakfast. As you prepared your breakfast, you texted Bradley a good morning message, smiling to yourself when he replied not long after you had sent your message. You continue to text him as you eat your food, unable to rid yourself of your smile as he continues to send you texts. In between messaging Bradley, you find yourself looking online for things to do that could potentially make an interesting date night for you and Bradley. You had decided that you weren’t going to actively look for a restaurant as you wanted to branch out a little and find something different for the two of you to do and as you searched you eventually found a nice-looking mini golf place along the beachfront and when you sent some pictures of the place to Bradley and proposed it as the location of your second date just for a little bit of fun he was more than onboard with the idea. The two of you decide on a time to meet later that day. You knew it was probably a bit soon to have a second date the day after the first, but you weren’t permanently in Miramar, and you were both aware of it and wanted to make the most of you being here.

Just as you finish cleaning up after yourself after finishing your food, you hear the front door open and Maverick call into the house, letting you know he has returned. You called back to Maverick, letting him know that you were just in the kitchen. It didn’t take him very long to head to the kitchen and you could tell from his face that he had a good night.

“So… how was Penny’s?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and smirk as your dad rolls his eyes at your words, heading to the coffee machine, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee.

“I’m pretty sure you can figure it out for yourself.” Maverick mutters, silently willing his mug to fill up with coffee quickly.

“I’m sure I can.” You say with a soft chuckle, focusing on cleaning up after yourself.

“Did you have a good time calling your friend last night?” Maverick asks, finally picking up his mug and taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, she loved seeing the beach. She couldn’t stop talking about how jealous she was of the beach sunsets.” The lie came quickly and easily and thankfully your dad didn’t think much of it, just nodding lightly and continuing to sip on his coffee. It didn’t look like your dad was awake enough to hold a functioning conversation, so you quietly dismissed yourself, heading upstairs to shower and get changed so you’re ready for the day.

After showering, you enter your room to get changed and you smiled when you caught sight of the flowers on your bedside table. You couldn’t wait to spend another evening with Bradley. You don’t know how you were going to keep lying to your dad, especially if your next date went as well as the last and you were going to come back to Miramar in the future. You wished your dad could be okay with the idea of you and Bradley being together. You valued your dad’s opinion so much and you thought he of all people would be okay with you potentially dating Bradley. Bradley was an aviator, but he wasn’t one of the aviators your dad was talking about when he enforced the rule. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you finish getting ready for the day and head back downstairs and find your dad fast asleep on the sofa.

“You are the only person I know who could drink coffee and fall asleep right after.” You mutter quietly to yourself, picking up the empty mug and taking it to the dishwasher as you reminisce on all the times your dad would doze off so soon after having a cup of coffee. After the brief tidy up you debate your next move. Part of you wanted to go and hang out with Bradley, but you didn’t know where he lived, nor did you want him to get sick of seeing you before your second date. So, you ended up deciding to just entertain yourself, you had a book, and the beach was nearby so you decided to take yourself down to the beach to read and soak up the sun while you could. You packed up a small bag with your book and a couple of other little things you figured you’d need while you were out before leaving a little note on the coffee table in front of your dad so he wouldn’t panic when he eventually woke up.

After you left the house, you slowly made your way towards the beach. It had so quickly become one of your favourite spots in Miramar and it made you happy that your dad had finally been able to settle down somewhere as beautiful as this. You sat yourself down on the towel you had brought with yourself and opened your book, eyes beginning to scan the pages, getting immersed in the world you were reading about. There were a few times when cocky Top Gun trainees would whistle to get your attention and then flex and show off in front of you, all of them unaware of you rolling your eyes beneath your sunglasses. Those were the type of aviators you had vowed to avoid. And they didn’t know that your heart had already been stolen by a much kinder and gentler aviator. One who was more than likely their superior. Once you stopped paying them any mind, they grew bored in trying to get your attention and instead found someone else who would give them the attention they wanted. You were able to get through a good chunk of your book with the sounds of the beach surrounding you. Just as you decided to pack up and head back home, figuring you had been out long enough, you caught sight of a family playing on the beach, the father scooping his son up and holding him close as the boy giggled and hugged his dad. The sight made your heart melt, and it made you wish all the more that you could remember the time you had spent in Miramar when you were little.

After tearing your eyes away from the sight, you started to make your way home, still finding yourself admiring your surroundings with every step you took. It didn’t take you long to make your way back to your dad’s house and just as you entered the house, you heard the tv playing in the living room, letting you know that your dad was now a bit more awake. You then head into the living room, greeting your dad as you enter the room, smiling at him as he greets you in return.

“Did you have a good time at the beach?” Maverick asks as you ease yourself down onto the armchair, nodding as you sit down.

“It was nice to just relax and read my book. I don’t get to do that much back in Chicago.” You say, glad you took the time you had to take care of yourself and relax at somewhere as beautiful as the beach.

“I’m glad you got a chance to relax. It must get pretty busy with your job, huh?” Maverick muses, realising he’s never truly sat down and thought about how busy your life can be.

“It’s a lot of long hours. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I pursued this career.” You admit. You had inherited a lot from your dad, one of which was your willingness to put in the hard work to get yourself where you wanted to be in life.

“I probably don’t say this enough but I’m so proud of you.” Maverick says softly, smiling over at you which makes you smile at his words.

“That means a lot, dad. Thank you.” You say softly, both of you standing from where you were sat and crossing to each other, hugging each other tightly. It wasn’t that your dad didn’t tell you he was proud of you, even if he thought he didn’t say it enough, in fact, he had said it to you a lot growing up. When you graduated college, you were sure he said it a hundred times just at the ceremony alone. Every time he told you that he was proud of you, it made your heart swell. All you ever wanted to do was make your dad proud.

You decide to spend the day spending time with your dad, talking about things and even coercing him into telling you a few stories from when you were little and lived in Miramar. It was nice to hear some stories from your childhood, especially when Goose, Carole, and Bradley were involved in the stories. You knew your dad missed his friends, and that was part of the reason you didn’t want your potential relationship with Bradley to drive a wedge between them. They were both the last thing left they had of Goose and Carole, and you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined their relationship after they had just mended it. When it grows close to the time you agreed to meet with Bradley, you begin to excuse yourself, getting up from the sofa.

“Where are you off to tonight?” Maverick asks, watching as you get up and begin to cross to the doorway so you can freshen up.

“I found a mini golf place down by the beach and Bradley kindly agreed to come with me for a friendly match.” You say with a grin, hoping your dad doesn’t think too much about Bradley being mentioned.

“You’ve seemed so much happier now you’ve reconnected with Bradley.” Maverick says, clearly not missing the effect Bradley had on you since you started talking with him again.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed him until we started talking again.” You admit with a light shrug, trying not to give too much away about your feelings for Bradley.

“Well, I’m glad you two have been able to be friends again.” Maverick says with a nod, silently dismissing you and you take the chance, heading upstairs to change and freshen up for meeting Bradley.

It takes practically no time for you to freshen up and get ready for your second date with Bradley. You were silently thankful that you had the sense to pack some cute outfits for your visit because now you didn’t feel like you had to panic and find clothes that might work. When you finish getting ready, you head back downstairs after checking your phone and seeing a text from Bradley saying that he’s on his way, grab your key, and bid your dad a quick goodbye as you make your way out the door.

Once more you make your way down the road, realising that you beat Bradley to where you agreed to meet. You waited patiently for but a couple of minutes before Bradley walked up alongside you.

“Funny seeing you here.” Bradley says jokingly, both of smiling as you turn to face him.

“I never could’ve expected to run into you here.” You say, a joking sarcastic tone to your voice as you let out a breathy laugh before giving Bradley the hug he offered. After greeting each other, you both begin the walk to the mini golf place. It wasn’t too far from your dad’s house, and you enjoyed getting to walk with Bradley, especially when you had no shortage of conversation topics. It didn’t take you long to reach the mini golf course and as you got closer; you began to take longer strides to get out in front of Bradley to ensure you could pay for it. Thankfully, Bradley stuck true to the deal and patiently waited for you to pay, only stepping closer when the employee at the booth handed you two golf clubs and two golf balls, taking one of each from you.

“Let’s play.”

As you make your way around the course, taking it in turns while making light conversation with each other each step of the way. As you get ready to take your first shot on the course you had moved on to, Bradley quickly steps forward.

“Hey, do you mind if I just do something that might help you really quick?” Bradley asks, making your focus shift from the golf ball to him.

“Yes, of course.” You say with a smile, waiting as Bradley takes a step closer to you.

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Bradley asks, his voice soft as he studies your expression, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Yes.” Your voice is just as soft as his. Bradley then gently rests his hands on your hips, missing how your breath hitches in your throat at the gentle contact.

“Is this okay?” His voice was soft against the shell of your ear, making your heart pound ten times faster.

“Of course.” You mumbled, fighting the feeling of your cheeks heating up as Bradley carefully adjusted your body, his hands remaining on your hips even after he had finished adjusting your body.

“There, try taking a swing now.” Bradley says, removing his hands from your hips and taking a small step back, making you hold back a frown at the sudden lack of contact. You try to focus yourself after Bradley had stepped away, focusing on where you needed to aim for, and not shifting your body from where Bradley had carefully placed it. You took a deep breath before swinging your club, hitting the golf ball with just enough power to bag yourself a hole-in-one.

“I did it!” You cry out triumphantly, holding your hands up in celebration.

“There you go!” Bradley praises, pulling you into a hug, and carefully avoiding your golf club.

“You’ve given away your best trick. Now I’m going to kick your ass.” You say smugly, laughing as Bradley shakes his head jokingly.

“You’re definitely a Mitchell with that competitive attitude.” Bradley jokes, making you roll your eyes before you and Bradley begin to move on to the next part of the course. It doesn’t take the two of you much longer to get through the remainder of the course and by the time you had finished, you had practically stopped keeping score, instead just focusing on having fun with each other. After returning the clubs to the employee at the booth, you took a little walk further down the beach, finding a wall to sit down at to watch the waves crashing gently against the shore. You and Bradley continue to converse quietly, taking in the beautiful sights the San Diego beach has to offer. At a lull in the conversation, Bradley turned to face you, making you mimic his actions.

“Are you okay, Bradley?” You ask softly, analysing his expression, trying to anticipate what he might say to you.

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley’s question took you off guard, yet you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding in excitement.

“Yes.” You replied breathlessly, and at your response, Bradley gently cupped your face in his hands, inching closer before his lips met yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. The kiss was perfect, it was like putting together two pieces of a puzzle. You didn’t want the moment to end at all but eventually, the need for air became too much and you both gently pulled away from each other, smiling as you locked eyes.

“That was… wow.” You say breathlessly.

“I’m hoping that was a good wow.” Bradley says with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“It definitely was.” You reply, leaning in for another kiss which Bradley is more than happy to reciprocate.

“Do you think we could make this official? Will you be my girlfriend?” Bradley asks, watching you with the gentlest gaze.

“I’d be a fool to say no to you.” You say happily, pulling Bradley into a hug, your grin widening further than you thought possible, especially when Bradley pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head as he squeezed you ever so slightly closer. You had never been happier than you were in this moment with Bradley. The two of you continue to chat, embracing each other as you watch the sunset across the horizon.

“We should probably get you home, huh?” Bradley muses softly when he feels you shiver against him, instantly shedding his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You get up wordlessly, waiting for Bradley to follow suit and then you begin to slowly walk back together, hands interlinked as you quietly converse, nothing able to wipe the smiles from your faces. When you eventually reach the end of the road leading to your dad’s house once more, you turn to face Bradley.

“Tonight was amazing.” You say, squeezing Bradley’s hand softly.

“It was.” Bradley agrees softly.

“Looks like we have an excuse to see each other more before I leave then?” You muse softly, looking at Bradley as he nods.

“Absolutely.” Bradley says, his smile gentle.

“We can meet at the Hard Deck tomorrow. My squad will be there, but I won’t make you introduce yourself if you don’t want to though. We can find a quieter part of the bar to hang out.” Bradley then continues, carefully picking his words in an attempt to not scare you off.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your team. I believe I owe one of them a thank you for saving you and dad on that mission you went on.” You say, more than happy to meet Bradley’s team.

“Don’t thank him, it’ll go straight to his head and then he won’t be able to shut up about it for ages.” Bradley says with a laugh, thinking about how Jake would react to being thanked.

“Well, I at the very least owe him a drink for what he did.” You say with a light shrug and a smile.

“I won’t stop you but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bradley says with a soft shake of the head, making you roll your eyes with a light scoff.

“I can handle egotistical aviators any day of the week.” You say, folding your arms across your chest and raising your eyebrow as if accepting a challenge.

“You know, I’d pay good money to see you put Hangman in his place.” Bradley admits, chuckling to himself at the mental image of you taking Jake down a peg or two.

“If I need to, I will.” You say with a soft laugh, both you and Bradley knowing that you can absolutely handle yourself. You then both fall silent for a brief moment before Bradley clears his throat softly.

“I should probably let you head back.” Bradley says, nodding in the direction of Maverick’s house, not wanting to keep too long.

“Thank you again. Tonight was amazing.” You say, taking Bradley’s jacket off and handing it to him.

“I should be thanking you.” Bradley says, slipping his jacket back on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bradley.” You whisper, stepping closer to Bradley and placing a quick, soft kiss on his lips, pulling away with a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Bradley whispers in response, smiling sweetly as you take a small step back offering him one last smile before turning around and making your way back to your dad’s house with a wide smile that you were sure could never fade.

When you entered the house, you were unsurprised to hear the tv on in the living room. After all, you and Bradley hadn’t been out too long, so it made sense that your dad was still up and about.

“Hey, dad.” You say, standing in the doorway to the living room, smiling as he looks over at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was the mini golf?” Maverick asks, his focus completely on you.

“It was great. We had a good time. I kicked Bradley’s ass of course.” You say, jokingly bragging even though you had no idea who had won or lost between you and Bradley.

“That’s my girl. Want to finish watching this movie with me?” Maverick offers, patting the sofa to encourage you over. You nod and cross the room to the sofa, easing yourself down on the sofa next to your dad, relaxing back against the cushions as you watch the movie. You loved watching movies with your dad, you had similar tastes in movies, and you made funny comments to each other during the movie, commenting on a character’s choice or how you would’ve handled a situation. Partway through the movie, your dad decided to order some food given that the two of you hadn’t had any dinner. The two of you perused a menu and picked some food before Maverick placed the order. You both continue to watch the movie until the doorbell rings, giving away that the food has arrived, and you go to pick it up from the delivery driver while Maverick grabs some plates and drinks. Once all the food is plated up, you focus back on the movie, still exchanging comments and enjoying each other’s company. It felt like forever since you had been able to spend time with your dad like this and you were so grateful that you took the time off to come and visit him.

By the time the movie had finished, the food had been eaten and you were feeling the excitement of the day catching up to you, so you stood up, stretching your arms above your head as you stood.

“I might go and start winding down. I’m exhausted.” You say, a yawn spilling past your lips as you talk, emphasising your point.

“I believe you. You go and get an early night, sweetheart.” Maverick says as you pick up your plate and cup, nodding lightly at his words, heading into the kitchen to put your things away before returning to the living room just as Maverick was standing up himself.

“Night, dad.” You mumble, reaching out to hug your dad which he happily reciprocates, holding you close.

“Night, y/n.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter before releasing you. When he lets you go, you head up to your room and quickly get ready for bed, clambering under the covers and texting Bradley. You had a back-and-forth chat with him, telling him about how excited you were to see him next and how you couldn’t wait to meet his team. You also confessed that you would like to tell your dad about your new relationship with Bradley before you went back to Chicago, but you wanted Bradley’s thoughts first and he let you know that whenever you were ready, he’d be there to help you tell Maverick.

Eventually, you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, you remembered that you’d be meeting with Bradley at the Hard Deck, and it kicked you into high gear. You knew you wouldn’t be meeting him until the late afternoon, but you wanted to ensure that you had sufficient time to prepare for the evening. You got up and once you were showered and dressed, you headed downstairs to make some breakfast for you and your dad. As you prepared the breakfast, you put the radio on quietly for some background noise and you hummed lightly to the song playing.

When Maverick came down for breakfast, you had just begun plating it up and you handed him a plate just as he began to sit down. You then poured him a mug of coffee, placing it down on the table with a smile before focusing on plating up your own food. You then sit down opposite your dad and the two of you have a chat over dinner. You decided you’d spend the day with your dad before heading to the Hard Deck, so you laid out a plan with your dad since you knew you didn’t have much longer left in Miramar. You were excited to do some more things with your dad, especially given the number of times you’d been disappearing in the evenings to hang out with Bradley. You go with your dad to various places around Miramar that you haven’t seen yet. He even took you to Top Gun, showing you around his workplace, and even able to show you some of the jets he flew. Stepping back into Top Gun felt familiar to you, you didn’t have any concrete memories of the building, but the familiarity was overwhelming, and you were so happy your dad found himself back at Top Gun, so he not only had the familiarity but because he also had the stability of working in one place without having to move constantly. By the time you had finished the tour of Top Gun, you became aware of the time and turned to your dad.

“Hey, dad. I promised Bradley I’d meet with him at the Hard Deck to meet his team in like an hour or so. Is it okay if I head home to get sorted?” You ask, turning to face your dad.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Bradley. Is there anything you should know about?” Maverick asks, eyebrow slightly raised as he watches you.

“Dad, it’s not like that. He just wanted me to meet his friends. Besides, I do owe one of them a drink at least for saving you and Bradley.” You reply, shrugging lightly as you explain yourself. You longed to tell your dad, but you knew it wasn’t the right time, not without Bradley to support you through it.

“Well, that’ll go straight to his head.” Maverick says with a chuckle gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so, trying to hide your smirk when you realise your dad has said practically the same thing that Bradley had when you mentioned buying a drink for the aviator who saved both your dad and Bradley. You followed your dad out to his car, finding it a little bit funny at the number of times he’s used the car in the duration of your stay when you know he’d much rather be riding around on his motorbike. You both get into the car and Maverick begins the drive back to his house.

Once he pulls up and parks the car, you both get out and you make your way into the house and up to your room so you can freshen up. After you’ve made yourself a little more presentable for the evening, you head back downstairs to spend a little bit more time with your dad before heading down to the Hard Deck. Just before you leave to head down to the bar, you bid your dad goodbye, promising to be back before it’s too late.

The walk to the Hard Deck was quiet without Bradley around to keep you company, but you knew you’d be seeing him soon enough. Besides, as you made your way down to the bar, you were able to appreciate the beauty around you before you had to go back to Chicago.

By the time you make it to the Hard Deck, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket making you stop in your tracks, pull your phone out of your pocket to read the message you had received from Bradley, letting you know that he was in the Hard Deck and that you could just head in whenever you were ready. Taking a deep breath, you head into the bustling bar, glancing around and quickly locating Bradley just by his Hawaiian shirt, seeing him standing with a group of people who you could only assume were his team. As you cross the room, Bradley turns around and catches sight of you, eyes lighting up as he smiles and crosses to meet you in the middle, instantly capturing your lips in his for a sweet kiss.

“Well, that’s one way to say hello.” You mumble with a smile as you both pull away slightly, smiling at each other.

“I’m just happy to see you.” Bradley confesses softly, pulling you into a gentle hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“That makes both of us.” You reply happily, eyes fluttering closed in the embrace for a brief moment before you pull away.

“Let’s get you acquainted with the team, shall we?” Bradley says, wrapping a gentle arm around your waist and guiding you over to the group of people he had just been standing with by the pool table. As you approach the group, Bradley is quick to introduce you to everyone, making sure he made it known that you were his girlfriend before he introduced everyone by name. Once you had been introduced to everyone, you turned to address the group.

“Alright, so which of you is the one I owe a drink for saving my dad and Bradley?” You ask, making the group exchange looks at the realisation that you’re not only Bradley’s girlfriend but Maverick’s daughter as well. Once they get over the initial shock of the revelation, a blond man steps forward, a cocky smirk on his face as he smiles at you.

“Well, sounds like you owe me a drink then.” He says with a smirk, leaning back against the pool table with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m a woman of my word.” You say simply, shrugging with a laugh before going over to the bar to order a drink for both you and Jake from Penny, greeting her happily as you do so. When you’ve grabbed the drinks, you return to the group, handing one of the beers to Jake which he takes happily, making sure everyone saw the special treatment he believed he was getting.

“You weren’t lying when you said it would go to his head.” You muse with a laugh as Bradley winds an arm around your middle, pulling your back to his chest as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“He’s just warming up.”

Unbeknownst to you and the others, Maverick entered the bar while you were all occupied with your conversations and sat himself at the bar, smiling at Penny as he did so. As he received his drink, he glanced over at you with the Daggers, and his eyebrows furrowed as he saw the embrace Bradley had you in, and he certainly didn’t miss Bradley pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you laughed, looking up at him with all the love in the world.

“Did you know about them?” Maverick asks the next time Penny stops in front of him, gesturing over in your direction with his head.

“No more than you did clearly. But it was obvious they liked each other the moment they had that little meet-up when y/n first came back. Bradley did mention you warning him away from her though.” Penny says, focusing her attention on a stain on the bar top and wiping a cloth along it.

“I just didn’t want her to get hurt. I know what aviators are like.” Maverick says, eyes fixed on the drop of condensation running down the beer bottle in his hand.

“Pete, she’s not a child and I’m sure she’s told you as much. Besides, Bradley looks at her like she holds the entire world in her hands. Bradley’s not like the others. Give him a chance.” Penny says softly, watching the man in front of her softly, seeing how he silently processes her words. Instead of responding, Maverick looked back over to where you and Bradley were, and he could see the look of love evident on both of your faces.

Suddenly, a patron at the bar who was clearly already much too drunk stumbled in your direction and Maverick was convinced he had never seen a quicker reaction from Bradley until right now. Bradley, with one of the arms he had wrapped around your middle, carefully manoeuvred you so that you were now behind him, and he took the brunt of the patron falling on him, immediately steadying him while shooting him a warning look. Once the guy had wandered back to his friends, Bradley turned around to face you, placing gentle hands on your hips and giving you a soft kiss, pulling away with a gentle smile before inaudibly chuckling at something you said.

“They look happy together.” Maverick says softly, thinking of how Goose used to look at Carole the same way Bradley was looking at you.

“They do. Give Bradley a chance.” Penny reiterates, looking down at Maverick who nods sheepishly.

“I’ll speak to them in a bit. I don’t want to disturb them yet.” Maverick says, turning his attention to Penny, smiling softly at her before striking up a new conversation with her.

Across the bar, you were talking to the Daggers, finding out some more stories from when Bradley had first come back to Top Gun.

“Should’ve seen him. He was a menace when he found out Maverick was teaching. Damn near got themselves killed during training with the stunts they pulled.” Jake explains, beer in hand as he leans up against a nearby table as you watch Bradley and Natasha play a game of pool against each other.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Bradley was pretty pissed at dad when everything went down, and dad’s stubborn as anything.” You say with a gentle roll of the eyes.

“I’m just glad they got past their issues by the time they went on the mission. I hate to admit it, but they’re our best solo aviators.” Javy admits with a chuckle, making you smile as Jake gawps in mock shock.

“I’m right here you know. I’m the one who saved their asses.” Jake shoots in retaliation, making you and Javy laugh to yourselves.

“What are you two laughing about?” Bradley asks with a smile, sidling up alongside you.

“Javy admitting that you and dad were among the best two pilots for the mission seemed to be a bit of a hit to Jake’s ego.” You explain, making Bradley chuckle as he reaches out to clap Jake on the shoulder then holding out the pool stick for him to take.

“Let’s step outside for a minute.” Bradley mumbles, his voice low as he dips his head near your ear so you can have a semi-private conversation with the bustling volume of the bar. You nod and let Bradley lead you towards the front door of the bar, both of you instantly stopping in your tracks when you see your dad standing near the door, a soft smile on his face.

“Can we talk?” He asks the two of you, eyes flicking between you and Bradley as you both nod lightly. Maverick then gestures for you to follow him outside which you do, stepping out onto the deck and watching the waves crash against the beach.

“Mav I-”

“Bradley, I think it’s best I do the talking here. Look I was wrong to tell the two of you to stay away from each other. Just seeing the two of you earlier was enough of a wake-up call for me to realise that I was being a dick and that you both clearly love each other. I won’t get in your way.” Maverick says, making you and Bradley exchange a look before looking back at your dad.

“Dad…” You mumble, heart softening at your dad’s gentle smile.

“Bradley looks at you the same way Goose looked at Carole.” Maverick then continues, making you look at Bradley who has a slight blush painted across his cheeks at the revelation.

“Thank you, Mav. I promise I’ll look after her.” Bradley promises, holding a hand out for Bradley to shake, instead being pulled into a hug by your dad.

“I know you will.” Maverick says reassuringly before pulling away from the embrace, patting Bradley on the shoulder, and taking a step back before you hug your dad gratefully.

“I love you dad, thank you for giving us a chance.” You whisper, only audible to you and Maverick.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter and planting a kiss on the top of your head before releasing you and heading back into the Hard Deck. After the door closes behind your dad, Bradley turns to face you with a grin and slightly raised eyebrow.

“Would you like to come to mine?”

It took practically no time for you and Bradley to get back to his small house, the two of you head into the living room and settle down on the sofa. As you sit down, Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side gently. At the shift of embrace, you look up at Bradley, a soft smile on your face that matches his. Before you knew it, you started to lean up to press your lips to his softly, pulling away for a brief moment to adjust yourself, turning yourself more towards Bradley and cupping his face in your hands before kissing him once more. Bradley was quick to reciprocate the kiss, bracing a gentle hand on the back of your head in an attempt to hold you closer while his other hand winds around your waist, pulling you closer in that way as well as your eyes and his flutter closed. When the need for air becomes too much for both of you, you pull away but only enough to press your foreheads against each other, eyes opening again as your hand drifts up to play with Bradley’s hair.

“I know your dad pointed it out earlier but… I love you.” Bradley murmurs, a shy smile on his face as you smile back.

“I love you too.” You reply quietly before Bradley reconnects your lips for another kiss. Pulling you impossibly closer until air is needed once more.

“I know I’ve already asked you to be my girl, but what if you stayed? Is there a way you could stay here, with me?” Bradley asks, knowing that it was probably a long shot to ask you such a question, especially when the two of you had not long got together but he couldn’t just sit by and let his chances slip by again. To his surprise, you smiled, and gently ran a hand through his hair.

“I was actually visiting for more than just seeing dad. I actually got an offer to transfer to a hospital here in San Diego. I wanted to see the area before I made a choice and… I think I have a reason to accept it now.” You say, barely able to finish your sentence before Bradley kisses you again, gently pushing you back until you are lying back on the sofa with him hovering over you.

“Well looks like we have some good news to celebrate then.” Bradley says after breaking the kiss, smiling down at you as you smile back.

“Sounds like we do.” You mumble before grabbing the lapels of Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt to pull him back down for another kiss.

“I think we should take this to my room.” Bradley mumbles against your lips, making you loosen your grip on his shirt slightly so he can pull away, pulling you up with him yet still unable to keep his hands and lips off you as you make your way upstairs to his room. Just as you reach the door to his room you begin tugging his Hawaiian shirt off, carelessly discarding it on the floor as Bradley braces himself against the door, pushing it open behind him as you stumble in after him.

You couldn’t wait to make the move to Miramar now you had Bradley. You knew he was worth the risk.