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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops.

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead, “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that.

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift.

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ‘their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.”

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!”

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans.

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him.

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive.

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him.

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob.

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it.

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all, “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack.

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope.

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face.

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you.

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone.

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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littyhoney · 1 year

Text

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 3)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: One last heart break...will you ever get enough of it?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

ps: If yall have any request for one-shots and imagines message me im open up for requests! <3

You been avoiding Miles ever since the incident happened betweent the two of you… not that you are being petty but it just hurt your feelings to see someone you care looking at you thinking it be someone else instead even after you give your all to him. You still went on to the patrol with him at night but separately,only come to help him when the situation is overwhelms him but nothing more than that.

You are sitting in your dorm room at Vision Academy currently finishing up your essay, music blaring in the background. But your focus got disturb when a ring come from your phone on the bed, you use your web to pull it towards you to see the caller ID.

Coco Head calling…

You sigh contemplating you want to accept the call or not,your thumb hovering on the red button but your guts is screaming at you to accept. “Oh what the heck…” you mumble to yourself before accept the call and put the phone againts your ear hearing a panic screams from Miles reach your ear and a few groans here and there. You shot up from your seat.

“Miles? What is going on!?” You panic as you hear Miles struggle againts or with someone over the phone,in your head maybe he is fighting againts a criminal when he is supposed to be in the principa’s office “you heard Miles scream one more time before he manage to let out a loud “I NEED HELP HERE THIS GUY IS OUT OF CONTROL!” before another scream is heard.

“Where the hell are you Miles! Im coming to-” you start to walk towards the window before you see outside of the window makes you stop talking. Outside the window you see Miles is struggling to catch a guy…in a cow outfit? Or a dalmation,what a weird taste in costume for a criminal but you shake your head and tell him through the phone “be there in a minute!” you shed off your school uniform underneath it is your spider suit,believe me it gets itchy sometimes through out the day to wear this many layers of clothes to cover the suit man.

You put on your mask before jump out through the window and catch yourself using your web start swinging towards Miles and the weird criminal on top of the bus. You shot out a web towards the hand and foot making it fall on top of the bus as you land besides Miles,who is currently try his best to respond to his dad’s message.

“So uh what are you exactly?” you look down at the white with black spot guy as he struggle againts your web. He grunts around before answering “Im the spot! And no im not a cow OR a dalmation! I’am your nemesis!” clearly the guy is pissed off,but why? You tilt your head “Oookay?”

You turn towards Miles with your hands on your waist with a slight scowl shown on your mask “and you cant even handle a guy that looks like a cow?” Miles turn towards you slightly feel offended by you “That guy is a pain to catch! He can create portals and im late my mom is gonna kill me!” you shake your head slightly “That is a you problem with mama Rio” you turn your head back to the guy to shot a web at him so that you can give him to the police and finish the job easy,but instead of the web get on his body it goes through one of the holes and a black portal open up besides you as the web shot to your side “what the!-” you pull your web resulting to you catapul yourself into the portal resulting to you slam againts the street vendor “No way im getting my ass kick by a cow” you mumble to yourself before catching up on two of them.

Somehow you and Miles finally get a hold of this guy as he is now In a tangle mess mixture of you and Miles web to his limbs in his own portal that he made. You let out a big sigh before turning to Miles “You gotta go now man,don’t want mama Rio to go T-rex on ya” Miles let out a small shoot and look at you “Thanks for helping me with this uh criminal of the week” you nod your head “anytime man…anytime”

Miles look guilty as he contemplating wanting to reach his hand out to you “look, you been avoiding me for few days and I-I understand but-” you stop Miles sentence with your own “Look man,how about you go back to the academy first then we talk about this…after the party” Miles let out a defeat sigh before nodding his head and start to swing his way to the academy “I owe you one!” he shouted. You turn your attention back to the cow looking guy “You stay put right there alright? The police gonna come by any minute” you start to walk backwards as you talk to the edge of the building

“Wait where are you going!? im not done yet!”the ‘cow’ guy screams as he struggle agaits the webs. “I have a class to catch up man, see ya never!” you fall backwards from the edge of the building and make your way back to the window that leads to your dorm room,but you’re still late for the class anyways.

(small times skip as miles got to face with his angry momma bear and stopping the spot with his dad)

It is later in the evening after a long day of classes youre making your way to Miles apartment to attend the party that mama Rio invited you to come,instead of swinging your way from place to place like Miles you love the simplicity to just walk down the sidewalk, looking at the people around you minding their own bussiness completely oblivious as the person that is walking among them is a spiderman/spiderwoman. Youre walking through the alleyway for shortcut before suddenly your spider sense goes off, huh that’s weird. Your hearing sense did’nt hear anything other than the busy street down the alley so you continue on walking.

You went up the stair leading to the party opening the door and see a lot of people are there enjoying themselves with foods and drinks and the music played by the DJ,wow the Morales really know how to throw a party. You make your way to Mrs Morales wanting to greet her first before doing anything else tap her shoulder “Hey mama Rio!”

The woman turn around and smile widely as she lay her eyes on you “(Y/N)! you finally made it welcome dear,we have lots of food and drinks help yourself out” you smile back at her “Thanks mama Rio” you were about to ask where Miles is before a voice came from beside you “Hey (Y/N)!” you turn to look at Mr Morales before held out your palm for a handshake “Congrats on the promotion captain Davis”you smile up at the man happy for him. The man chuckle shaking your hand “Thank you (Y/N),glad you could make it to the party It be a shame for you to miss some of Rio’s cooking”. You laugh lightly before asking where their son is,mama Rio nudge her head looking towards the water tank “Hes’s right there,with his friend”she put one of her hand on her waist looking at her son hanging out with the girl she never seen before.

Mama Rio voice drown away as you stand there,stunned to see who is standing beside Miles and chatting away happily together…It’s Gwen. Your heart starts to beat fast as you clench your hand to a fist on your sides,pursing your lips not believing that she’s there in person. Your heart seems to squeeze itself and you fight the urge to just storm away from the party,not only that Gwen didn’t come to see you but Miles didn’t even call or message to tell you that Gwen is here! Your brows start to turn upside down as your eyes are pierce to where they stand.

(Mama Rio’s POV.)

“She looks old enough to vote does’nt she?” Rio told her husband and the her son’s bestfriend before looking at the child who is beside her,who is clearly in distress. Rio is not blind or a fool,clearly she can see how much the child likes her son,deep down she is hoping Miles would see it but over the years it does’nt seem to grow past that point. Rio put her hand gently on the child’s shoulder giving it a light squeeze before speaking softly “I know you like him my dear,he needs some time to see that”

The child look down before speaking in a such soft tone it almost a whisper “I did give him time mama Rio…but…im giving up on it,maybe it’s better to be there for him and be happy for him you know…”

Rio sigh move herself to where her son is at not before giving her last words to the child “You are a good kid (Y/N), Im sure,one day you will find someone just as selfless and have so much love to give to you” she give the kid one last smile before make her way to where her son is.

Back to you POV.

Mama rio’s word ring through your head…your eyes trail back to where Miles and Gwen are before mumbling to the air “Maybe…in another universe…he would” little that you know…that universe exist,and it's called Earth 42.

To be continued....

(ALMOST THERE TO MEET EARTH 42 MILES BARE WITH ME LOVELY SPIDERS <;3)

tag list:

@dazecrea @i-love-milfs2 @usernamepassowrd-blog @frissy @musicownsme @randomhoex @dystop4in14nd @coldlamaspersonspy @repostingmyfavs @lovefks @wingedghostpepper @bath1lda @baku-boneless @biggestmacsstuff @milesquaritcheswife @mmst4rz @jasontoddsfavoritechair @jadyn-is-kinda-gay-ngl @manduse @angelbunnyboo @bbootyyyshaker9000 @thymom696969 @camilo-uwu @duckwithsunglasses @arlipooh

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n

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twice-inamillion · 5 months

Text

Smut

Sister Talk

Chapter 232 1,826 Words

(Jeongyeon and her sister, Seungyeon, have gotten together at Jeongyeon's request. Seungyeon finds out her little sister's secret and has fun teasing her.)

The environment in the house has been much better after the release of Feel Special. The members are busy with their schedules, such as fan meetings, fan signs, and broadcast shows. All of this resulted in the members being tired at the end of each day. Some of them lazed around the house while others took a different approach, such as Nayeon. Jeongyeon, after a long day, walks through the hallway and tries to use the restroom. She passes some of the member's rooms until she comes close to yours and hears people giggling and some moaning. Interested, she tiptoes, puts her ear to the door, and tries to listen. She listens to the voice and tries to figure out who it is. Out of nowhere, she hears Nayeon’s moaning voice, “You're reaching so deep inside me, I'm going to cum.” Jeongyeon feels a tingling sensation in her private area, knowing what is going on the other side of the door. “He's always fucking, that nasty pig,” as she keeps listening to you both. “What are you doing?” Jeongyeon turns around and sees Chaeyoung coming out of her room, “Nothing.” “Doesn't seem like nothing. Are you peeping up on him?” “No, I just heard something, so I came to check.” Chaeyoung smirked and walked up to Jeongyeon, “Let's see what is going on,” as she placed her ear on the door. “Ahh, you came so much inside me.” Chaeyoung turns around and smirks, “Nayeon unnie is getting filled with so much cum. Maybe I'll tell him to give me some too.” She stands up and gives Jeongyeon a nudge, “You should let him fill you too.” Jeongyeon turns red and chases Chaeyoung off to her room. She can only imagine what's going on as she heads down the stairs and to the living room. Jeongyeon tries to keep herself busy throughout the day but can't seem to get it out of her mind, so she decides to make other plans. She takes out her phone and messages the person she can talk to about her problems, “Unnie, can I come over?” “Sure, come by at any time.”

It's been a while since Jeongyeon visited her older sister. She carries a small gift as she stands in front of the door and rings the doorbell. “Why do you ring the door? You already know my passcode.” “Hey, unnie. Just habit of mine.” “Well, come in, or are you going to stand there?” Jeongyeon walks inside and places the cake she brought into the fridge. “When's the last time you went shopping for groceries?” “Umm. About a week ago. I've been busy, so I've ordered some takeout.” “You need to eat homemade meals. Let's go grocery shopping right now. I'll pay.” “Haha. You seem more like the unnie than me.”

The two of them go shopping and get back with large bags of groceries and other things they found along the way. Seungyeon and Jeongyeon end up making a full-course meal, with Jeongyeon making the most of it. They try to catch up and talk about their lives, both professional and personal. “How's promotions going?” “Good but can tiring. What about you?”” “Just finished a small project, so now I'm resting.” “That sounds like fun.” “I can stay in and catch up on my shows. What about you?” “What do you mean?” “Well… there's a reason why you came, right? Something troubling you?” “I don't want to talk about it.” “Alright, let's change the subject.” “Thanks.” “Oh, I got my jacuzzi installed.” “Oh really?” “Yeah. It got here two weeks ago, but I haven't had a chance to try it out. Want to give it a go?” “Sure.” The two of them take a quick shower before getting inside the jacuzzi. Jeongyeon walks out of the patio and sees her sister already inside. “Come Jeongyeon, how long are you going to keep me waiting? Come inside.” Jeongyeon goes up the steps and undoes her bathrobe. “Why are you in a swimsuit? It's a jacuzzi, not a pool; take it off,” as her sister stands up and reveals her nude body. “Unnie, why are you nude?” Jeongyeon tries to cover her face. “It's my house, my rules. So go back, take off that swimsuit, and returns in “proper” attire.” Jeongyeon steps down and puts on her bathrobe before heading back to the house. It only takes her a few minutes for her to come back. As she goes up the steps, Seungyeon says, “Take it off, take it off,” teasing her. She drops her bathrobe and covers her nether regions and breasts as she gets into the water. “Haha, why are you covering? It's not like I haven't seen you nude better.” Jeongyeon rolls her eyes and takes her hands off her chest, “there, happy?” Seungyeon gets behind her and, cups her sister's breast from behind, and gives them a nice feel, “You grew a little bit.” She whines and says, “Unnie, stop, I don't like it.” “You're boring. Have some fun, Jeongyeon. Would you say that same if it was the guy you liked?” Jeongyeon stops and imagines herself being handled by you. Seungyeon grins and grabs a bit more, teasing her areolas, “So you do have someone you like, who is it? As your older sister, I should know who my little Jeongyeon likes.” “I don't like anyone,” resisting her sister's advancements. “Lies, I know you like the palm of my hand. You like someone, huh? I can tell.” “Un… unnie, please.” Seungyeon moves her hands towards Jeongyeon's nipples and gives them a slow but steady squeeze, causing Jeongyeon to moan out, “Okay, I'll tell you.” “Go on, who is it? Tell your big sister who you like.” “My oppa. I like him.” Seungyeon tries to figure out who it is until it finally clicks. “Wait, you don't mean Jihyo's husband, right?” Jeongyeon turns around and hesitantly nods her head, “Yeah, him.” Seungyeon grins and squeezes her sister, causing her to scream, “Wait, you’re pinching too hard!” “I didn't know my little sister craved for a married man, especially one that has children. You're naughty, Jeongyeon. Haha.” “Don't say it like that. You're making it sound bad.” “Haha I'm just teasing. Anyways, have you too?” slipping her index finger into her other hand in a circular shape. “Eww…that's the first thing you want to know?” “Yeah, it's a normal question to ask.” “No, we haven't done it.” “Why?” “Don't worry about it.” “Oh. Don't tell me, he doesn't even know.” Jeongyeon turns her face from embarrassment, causing her sister to tease her once more, “Oh, it's a one-sided crush, haha.” Jeongyeon, upset at her constant teasing, says, “You're making me look bad.” “Haha, okay, I'll stop.” “Thanks.” Seungyeon changes the conversation into her own love life and how she's been single for these past two years, only dating here and there but nothing serious. Jeongyeon, surprised by her casual dating, asks, “Unnie. How was your first time?”

Seungyeon turns around and asks, “Oh, you're interested?” Jeongyeon starts getting a bit red but tries to play it off, saying, “I was just wondering that's all.” Seungyeon tries to remember and says, “It wasn't too bad. He was a friend from school, so it just hurt a bit. He was average, so it wasn't a big deal.” “Oh, how much average?” “Hmm, maybe 3-5 inches.” “What about 8 inches?” Seungyeon wasn't listening too much until he heard her say eight, “Eight inches? That’s huge.” “Really?” “Yes, that would literally split you in half.” Jeongyeon looks surprised, not knowing that your cock was above average. “Oh, I thought that was normal.” “No, it's not. He’s huge.” “Oh,” debating if she should be happy or upset about your size. “Have you seen it before or have a picture of it?” asks Seungyeon. “Umm…” “You do, huh? Let me see it,” she said, rubbing her hands together. She was excited to see someone hung for the first time. Jeongyeon makes her way to the other side of the jacuzzi, grabs her phone, and goes to her hidden phone gallery. She gives her phone to her sister, making her gasp in awe as she sees a photograph of your cock as you sleep. “Jeongyeon, he’s huge. I can’t believe Jihyo’s husband is that hung. Too bad he’s taken” as Seungyeon slips her hand under the water. Jeongyeon sees her sister bite her lip and is surprised at how cock hungry she is, “Unnie, give me the phone back!” “Just give me a bit,” she said, trying to swipe to see if she found other photos. She swipes it, sees a video, and clicks on it. “Ahh, ahhh… fuck me harder” Seungyeon watches as one of her sister’s members is getting fucked in a mating press position. She moves her fingers towards her cunt and traces her folds, “fuck me from the back, please.” Jeongyeon makes her way to her sister, and they watch you flip around the member and get a view of her back. “You want this cock?” ”Yes, fuck me hard, please.” They both watch as you slap your cock against her ass, making ripples on her cheeks, “Wow, that cock is huge!” Both sisters are glued to the screen as you align your cock to her entrance. The person in the video groans as her cunt is split wide open. They each trace their folds and finger themselves to the movement of your thrusting. They look at each other but don’t do a thing and turn back to watch the last scene as you cum and eventually pull out, showing the cum oozing out of the member’s cunt. ”Jeongyeon, I’m jealous of Jihyo. She has a good husband. If I was her, I would be riding that cock every day.” ”Unnie!” “It’s true,” scrolling to another view, but Jeongyeon snatches the phone out of her hand. “Aww, I wanted to watch another one.” ”No.” ”Alight, maybe I’ll ask Jihyo if she can let me borrow him for a weekend.” ”No, he’s mine!” ”Doesn’t look like it. If that was the case, then it would be you riding that cock instead of whoever was in that video.” It’s true; all of the members except her have had an actual taste. She’s the only one out of nine; maybe she should have a real taste. “I’ll do it when it thinks it's time.” ”Let me know; maybe I’ll stop and join, haha.” ”You’re the worst.” ”I’m kidding.”

The two of them continue the night and watch a few movies before calling it for the day. They get ready and sleep in the same bed as Jeongyeon tries to organize her thoughts about the matter, “maybe a taste wouldn’t be so bad.”

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice jeongyeon #jeongyeon smut #yoo jeongyeon #jeongyeon #seungyeon #TM smut #girl idol smut

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jevilowo · 24 days

Text

MY OPINIONS ON VARIOUS TF2 SHIPS

For funsies

SCIENCE PARTY:

fun ship, but they're GodComplex4GodComplex and I fear that would only end in disaster

TOASTED SANDVICH:

if there is one heavypyro fan on this stupid baka planet it is me. shout out to menacing quiet individuals who like violence but have a soft side fr.

BLOODY SUIT:

literally The Original toxic yaoi rivals to lovers red blue combo ship. speeding bullet and napoleon complex fans WISH they had our shared update and corresponding voice lines

BATTING HELMET: (scout n solly)

i just think it's really funny trust me on this one guys. have you seen them in the fourth comic it's a constant "yes, and" bit between the two of them. soldier's love language is choking people out.

HIT AND A MISS: (scout n pauling)

like most ms pauling ships, i'm only into it if scout's a cool lesbian. which he is not most of the time.

RED OKTOBERFEST:

AAAAAAAAAAAAA literally the ship of all time save me heavymedic save me. if they don't smooch in the next comic i will become jay pinkerton's personal sleep paralysis demon.

SPEEDING BULLET:

my feelings on it are Complicated. twas my first love (otp) in this fandom, but the overabundance of twinky uwu scout and daddy dom snoipah has built up some resentment on my part. call me back when people stop making up imaginary life problems for sniper to comfort scout over.

NAPOLEON COMPLEX: (Spy n Engie)

literally just rarjack if they were boys and not horses to me and i'm not even an mlp fan. it's alright, just doesn't really stick out to me.

SPYMA:

LITERALLY THE POWERCOUPLE EVER TRULY A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES or at least the version that exists in my head is. i have so much made up spyma lore it's crazyyy. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with sniper it's quickly becoming my favourite genre of fanart (i have seen at maximum three)

SUPPORT SANDWICH: (spy n sniper n medic)

in my opinion, it is healthy for everyone to have at least one ship they just like bc they think it's hot. for me, that is support sandwich. not much else to say on that the fics are all banging go look them up.

SNIDOS: (sniper n GLaDOS)

hell yeah.

ADMINPAULING:

i used to like it a lot, but timelining implies ms pauling's been working for helen since her mid teens at the latest so i no longer like it. 4chan leaks my beloathed pleaseee don't make them kiss i think it would kill me in a bad way

URINE SAMPLE: (medic n sniper)

there's a lot of werewolf and vampire stuff for these two on ao3 which is pretty fun. and i'm way more likely to find sniper angst under the medicsniper tag than sb and bs which is always a plus.

FRENCH TOAST: (spyro)

have you seen that one animation where pyro gives birth to spy's child and gordon freeman is there at one point. yeahhhh. the ship's pretty cute tho spy would be sooo soft for pyro they'd light his cigarettes for him.

BOOTS AND BOMBS:

THE FORBIDDEN RED/BLU ROMANCE GOES CRAZY I ADORE IT. same team bnb is pretty banging too. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with zhanna.

SPYPAULING:

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE. imagine. spy x pauling. yuri. that will be all.

SWORDVAN:

SWORDVAN MY LOVE!!! idk what it is about demo and sniper together but HELL YEAH TOP 5 SHIPS FR FR. shout out to the guy still writing monsterous intent, they're like single handedly carrying the swordvandom.

TEXAS TOAST:

I used to think "this is cute" but then my friend got really really into it and that hyped me up into "THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHIPS OF ALL TIME" territory. bonus points if they're yuri! shout out to Technicolor California, my current favourite fanfic of all time (it overtook running blind in the interal rankings). oh yeah insert mandatory "no hate to engie and pyro father son dynamic preferers" message here lol.

Ok that's enough I will cover more at some point maybe.

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rabbitsrants · 6 months

Note

What do you think of D.C.'s M26, do you think it was just a fire of pairs for us Shinran?

SPOILERS FOR MOVIE 26

i think, in total there are two significant shinran moments worth talking about

i enjoy certain elements of the first scene:

ran impulsively goes after a member of the black organization and puts herself in danger because he poses a threat to haibara. their fight is AMAZING, i love how ran dominates pinga despite him attacking her with a knife

something similar happens in the manga as well (chapter 434), so the writing for ran absolutely tracks here

chianti sees the fight and interferes by attempting to shoot ran - shinichi barely manages to save her in time

here's the thing: i absolutely hate the writers for often reducing ran to a damsel in distress in these movies, that's an issue i'll further analyze in a bit

with that being said, i don't mind shinichi saving ran in this scene. it's an impactful shinran moment, cause so far the writing is similar to the manga

the only difference between chapter 434 and this movie is the fact that shinichi actually sees what's happening and is able to actively protect ran. i don't have a problem with that, because that's what shinichi and ran do - they protect each other.

what i love even more is how shinichi decidedly urges ran to stay put, i think that's also very in character for him:

he wants ran nowhere near the black organization, for very specific reasons that i'll get into another post

so far, this is a well executed scene, right? it's a very realistic, high-stakes moment that we'd expect from the manga. so far, so good, right? RIGHT?!

no. cause this is where the movie writers fuck up:

W H A T

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! SHE ACTUALLY STAYS?! AND WHEN SHIN TELLS HER TO RUN, SHE RUNS?! WHAT?!

this is is supposed be ran??? no fucking way.

my girl is the definition of reckless and stubborn. she's not just the type of person who'll enter a burning house to save a girl she barely knows (chapter 174), she's also the type of person who refuses to waste a single second when human lives are at stake. no matter how much shinichi begs her to stay away.

chapter 640

and she does this in chapter 822 on the mystery train as well: shinichi yells at the detective boys, sonoko and ran, he tells them not to leave their room, no matter what. and ran repeatedly attempts to go against his instructions because she's worried about haibara, despite receiving a text message that she's okay, btw. ran's intuition tells her that something is wrong with haibara, so she's gonna fucking look for haibara!!!

i need the movie writers to understand that my girl is absolutely unhinged. she cares about other people very deeply, to the point where she's incapable of watching from the sidelines as they potentially get hurt

so how would i have written this moment? what would've been a more realistic version of this scene?

shinichi and ran get into an intense fight: shin desperately urges ran to stay put, she refuses to listen. and then there'd be two possible outcomes:

a) ran continues to go after pinga and dies in the process (remember, ran was fully prepared to die for haibara in chapter 434)

b) shinichi realizes that he can't stop ran and offers her a safer way to help. ran accepts and they work together as a team to get haibara back

why didn't the movie writers go for this approach? my theory: they don't want ran to take a bigger role in these movies, so option b) was a no-go for them. obviously it'd make even less sense for them to kill off ran, but like i already explained, there's no way ran would just give up on haibara in that moment

so why include this moment at all? what's the point of starting such a strong scene if you're not gonna progress the plot?

the point is ran being a damsel in distress.

which brings me to the second shinran moment in this movie:

ran goes after pinga again and he kicks her off the balcony, she's about to fall and get hurt

kuroda ends up saving her and shinichi feels inadequate

..............

AGAIN, THERE'S NO PLOT PROGRESSION, THE ONLY POINT OF THIS SCENE IS TO MAKE HER LOOK WEAK

idk who this woman is but this ain't ran

HERE'S RAN FUCKING MOURI FOR Y'ALL

a woman who's consistently depicted as strong, fierce and very capable of protecting herself:

chapter 43

chapter 169

and that's not to say that shinichi doesn't worry about her sometimes, ofc he does:

chapter 493

but that doesn't take away from the fact that she's a fucking badass who can defend herself

and it's not just that she's capable of protecting herself, she protects shinichi too.

chapter 5

..........

it's like the movie writers read the manga, took note of moments where shinichi comes through for ran but completely forgot that it's mutual, they come through for each other:

chapter 389

chapter 1050

the movie staff doesn't get ran, they seem to have no idea how strong or caring she is and i hate how much it's hurting the fandom's perception of her

in conclusion:

visit the shinran library for more

#thankfully the movies are only semi canon #if even that #it's arguable lol #shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #dcmk #detective conan #case closed #ship analysis #m26

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pastel-peach-writes · 1 year

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Caitvi x reader who just goes along with things and doesn't state their opinion or how they feel,but they do get quiet or tense when they're uncomfortable or pick their nails. But if your alright with angst maybe they get overwhelmed or hurt or both,but still refuse,so they force it out of them,and they're hurt like "why didn't you tell us?.." or something,it's comfort.if it's a little to dark I'll ask something else😭 sorry if it is

Hi! It's not too dark at all. To let it be known, I'm fine with writing angst! If you're curious about how much is too much, you can simply message me! I hope y'all enjoy the fic.

"You Can Tell Us." | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: In the household where you grew up, expressing your opinion wasn't tolerated. Hell, expressing your emotions wasn't tolerated either. To keep the peace, you learned to not say anything in stressful situations, even if that means sacrificing your well-being.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Yelling, Co-Workers Being Assholes, Name Calling, Hurt/Comfort(?), Pet Names, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

A/N: I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR. THIS KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME LMAO

Your whole life you were the person who kept the peace. You were someone who bit their tongue to avoid getting yelled at or offered solutions to problems that had nothing to do with you. If there was a solution to a problem or a way to avoid conflict, you were the person who chose those options.

So, why did this have to happen to you?

At your place of work, you were minding your business. You finished some paperwork earlier than planned and decided to take an early break. Then, four of your team members rushed into the break room.

"Do you think you can sit here and have us do all the work?" "You have some nerve making us look like the bad guys." "You're a lazy piece of shit. I don't know how you even made it this far."

The words pierced your skin and heart like darts to a board. You didn't dare to say anything back. Stunned in the moment, you took a sip of your water. Your eyes focused on the plain wall behind your teammates.

"And look, now they're spacing out like we're not even here," a co-worker buzzed. He scoffed. He leaned down in front of you and waved his hand in your face. "Hello? Anyone home?"

When he didn't get a response, he knocked on your skull.

You gave them nothing. Tears stung in your eyes.

"Wow, shocker! No one's home," he laughed. The rest of the team followed. Fulfilled, the man hummed. "Guess that's what happens when you hire an airhead who's probably having relations with the boss." the man put his hand on the table, cornering you in.

Your eyes remained on the wall. You weren't having an affair with the boss, but you didn't feel the need to say anything.

He shifted himself into your eyesight. A sinister smirk tugged on the corner of his lips. He took the tip of his finger and tipped the bottom of your cup. The cup fell over, the clear liquid soaking through your shirt and lap.

The laughter roared.

"Oops!" he feigned a gasp. He pulled away from you, his hand on his chest. "Guess you should've been more careful. It's okay," the man gave a fake smile, "holding cups is hard."

A cackle ripped through him as he leaned his head back. He shoved his hands in his pockets then turned around and left. The others flocked after him like ducklings to a parent.

Hot tears ran down your cheeks when they were out of sight. You forced yourself out of your chair and dragged your feet towards the paper towels.

Sobs scratched your throat at your pathetic attempt to dry your shirt. You were drenched through and it was cold out. Only six more hours left.

Home and on the couch, you stared at the wall to calm yourself down. With your nervous system still on the rocks, chews on your lips and nails, and an unfocused gaze, the attempt was a failure.

"Vi, that was completely inappropriate and not needed!" Caitlyn scolded as the two of them walked into the house. In the right mindset, you would greet them and ask how their day was, but because of today's earlier events, you didn't hear them come in.

"Oh, come on, Cupcake," Vi spoke. A chuckle followed her sentence. "All I did was curse him out a little and threaten him." the pinkette threw off her boots. Caitlyn carefully slipped her feet out of her own. "Don't act like you didn't like it," her tone was sing-songy.

The bluenette's cheeks were dusted pink. She put her hands on her hips, watching Vi's smirk grow as they kept eye contact. "I-It... It was fine, but it wasn't needed."

"Come on!" Vi threw her hands up. She hopped and spun on the balls of her feet as she entered the living room. "Muffin," Vi gave you a playful pout. She sat beside you on the couch, her arm resting on your shoulder. She gave you her signature puppy eyes. "Am I the bad guy for telling one of Caitlyn's employees to get their shit together or else their job is on the line?"

"That is not what you said," Caitlyn rebutted. She found her place on your other side.

Vi hummed, shrugging. "So, maybe I paraphrased a lil'. What's the harm?"

"The harm is you're trying to sweeten up your side of the story to be more appealing," Caitlyn narrowed her eyes toward Vi. Vi only grinned in response.

Vi put her gaze back on you. "Is it workin', Muffin?"

You're far gone. You haven't moved and the chewing on your nails got worse. You haven't blinked in so long, your eyes were producing tears to regain moisture.

"Muffin?" Vi leaned closer to your face. The tears now slid down your cheeks and your chest heaved up and down. Vi glanced to Caitlyn who was already scanning you to see if there was something physically wrong.

When she couldn't find anything, Caitlyn shook her head to reassure Vi of your physical safety.

Nothing was wrong physically which meant something emotionally or mentally was bothering you. Vi frowned. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Muffin. Hey." Her voice was clear and firm. She was sure her voice had no hint of sadness to not push you over the edge. However, if you looked into her eyes, you would find them glassy with dilated pupils.

Caitlyn's eyes were similar. Her blue irises darkened in concern, fear, and anxiety; all the words she could use to describe how disheveled she was feeling.

Not seeing you move, Vi shook your shoulder. "Muffin. Snap out of it. What's going on?"

Caitlyn brought a hand to your thigh. She gave your thigh a gentle squeeze.

With another squeeze to your thigh from Caitlyn and a squeeze on your shoulder from Vi, you finally blinked. The moisture in your eyes made a reappearance. You looked between the two of them, pulling your nail out of your mouth. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at the wall. Cait and I came home a while ago and you haven't said a word," Vi whispered. Her grip on your shoulder turned into comforting rubs.

"Oh, I'm fine," you force a smile. Caitlyn deadpanned. She pulled her gaze to Vi who wore the same unphased face.

"You're not fine. It's okay to not be fine, dear," Caitlyn stroked your thigh. Her eyes were filled with sadness, the same with Vi's grey eyes.

"I promise, I'm fine."

"Bullshit!" scoffed Vi.

"Violet."

"No, they're not fine. That's obvious!" Vi removed her hand from your shoulder. Instead, she got up from the couch to resume her sentence. "I should've known you weren't okay. You didn't do that cute greeting of yours when your face lights up and you squeeze us like you haven't seen us in years."

You shifted in your seat, a frog in your throat. Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time, these tears are from sadness. You scratched your palm with your nails.

Caitlyn sighed. "I, too, should've noticed the change in your behavior. I guess we were too wrapped up in our own drama to notice," Caitlyn took a glimpse of Vi's expression.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, the skin between them creased. She'd squeeze her hands into fists and then let go repeatedly as a fidget.

Caitlyn took Vi's anger as a sign she should resume speaking. "We're not trying to force you into telling us, but if you're not okay, you can. We're here to comfort you, be your rock when you can't be your own." Caitlyn shuffled to squat in front of you. She doesn't force you to look at her, but you can see her worried eyes in your peripheral vision.

"Being with the two of you taught me it's okay to depend on others," Caitlyn admitted. "I want to be the person who can have anything under control and can come off as collected, but keeping all my frustrations inside or innermost thoughts can be challenging."

Vi calmed herself down enough to sit on the floor. She rested her head on your knee and put a hand on Caitlyn's leg.

Gaining comfortability, you slid down the couch. You sat between them with your back resting on the couch's edge. Vi's head repositioned itself to your shoulder and Caitlyn's moved to your other knee.

With her sitting adjustment, Caitlyn continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be the strong one. I don't want you to feel like you can't be vulnerable with us or even disagree with us."

"Yeah, Muffin," Vi's voice broke as she spoke. "Disagree or angry, we're going to love you the same. Confrontation comes with life." Vi dragged her hand down her face. "It's shit sometimes, but you gotta work your way through it, yanno?"

A heavy sigh escaped your body. You threw your head back onto the cushions and covered your face. You sobbed behind your hands. Your heart sank; your chest tightened. That frog in your throat grew into a toad. You babbled about this morning's events and how helpless you felt.

Anyone who wasn't familiar with you wouldn't be able to decipher what you muttered behind your hands. Luckily for you, your girlfriends know you inside and out. Even if it takes them a bit to notice when something's off.

The two of them pulled you in a tight embrace. They didn't speak or make efforts to shush you as you spilled your guts to them. Vi made a conscious decision not to let her anger get the best of her.

Although, those guys had no clue what was in store for them tomorrow morning.

Caitlyn also thought about making a visit to the office, but to complain to HR about the events. Not to find the culprits and make them pay. She was sure Vi had that handled. (Caitlyn would also have to handle her later.)

When your sobs calmed and your breathing evened, Vi spoke first. "They're a couple of dicks."

Caitlyn didn't feel the need to scold her.

"They should know how to treat a human being. Guess you can't do that when you're a shitty human, huh?" Vi chuckled to lighten the mood, but there was no joy behind her laugh. Only pure rage. "I'll fuck them up for you, don't worry." Vi placed a tender kiss on the side of your head. "I'll run you a bath, mkay? You should wash the day off of you."

"What about you and Cait's argument or whatever?" You peeled your head off the cushion to look at them. Everything was blurry behind your tears, but you could make out their frames and silhouettes. "Don't you need help?"

"Taking care of you is much more important than some silly fight," Caitlyn whispered. She smoothed the area on top of your head. Her delicate fingers brushed against your ear lobe as she brought them down. Her polished fingernails carefully traced the outside of your lobe. "Vi and I are big girls. I'm sure we can figure it out."

Vi grinned. "Hey, what fight?" she winked at the both of you.

A sad chuckle left your body. For a moment, relief washed over you. Once your chuckle finished though, the heaviness came back.

"Hey," Caitlyn's hand ran down your cheek. She wiped your tears with her thumb, Vi copied. "How about we get food from your favorite restaurant? I can go pick it up while Vi prepares your bath."

"I think that's a great idea," Vi used the back of her hand to soothe the skin on your cheek. "What do you think? Does that sound good, Muffin?"

You gave them a meek shrug.

"That looks like a maybe." Caitlyn giggled. "What if I add in dessert? would it be a yes then?"

"Oh, Muffin, say yes! Say yes! She's offering dessert!" Vi grabbed onto your arm. She shook you like a kid begging their parent for ice cream.

A genuine laugh came from your throat. Finally, all the pain is released from you. You don't know what made it leave. Maybe the sound of dessert or Vi's childlike begging. Or maybe it was the fact that Caitlyn and Vi cared for you enough to sit down and work through whatever problem you were facing.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Truly safe. You felt as if you could freely speak your mind without the underlying fear of rejection. You could say what you want.

"Okay," you gave the both of them a slight smile. "I think that sounds nice."

"Oh, yes! I love you, I love you, I love you!" Vi wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you on top of her. She gave you a bone-crushing squeeze.

"Vi!" you laughed.

Caitlyn laughed as well. She stood up and went to put her shoes and coat on. "Don't hurt them, Vi."

"Could never, Cupcake," Vi said from under you. "Now, hurry on and fetch us our dinner, woman! Mama's hungry."

Caitlyn scoffed, smiling. "Mama? Woman? Who are you talking to right now?"

"Oop," you muttered, grinning at Vi. "You're in trouble," you taunted in a whisper.

Vi playfully narrowed her eyes at you. She glanced at Caitlyn with an innocent and playful grin. "The tallest, cutest Cupcake in the world?"

"Right," Caitlyn dragged out the word. She opened the door. "I'll be back soon. You two stay out of trouble." and with another laugh, Caitlyn left the house.

Vi hummed. "I think she secretly liked being called 'Mama'."

You perked a brow. "Sure, she did, babe... Can we go draw my bath now?"

"Can I join you?"

WC: 2,285

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skyloftian-nutcase · 20 days

Text

Outbreak Pt 2 (LU in Healthcare)

Legend slurped on his energy drink, anxious to get to work. He and the entire night shift had been called in early to attend some training for this new virus that was potentially a problem. Administration mandated everyone attend to see how to don and doff personal protective equipment.

It was mildly exasperating, as it had cut into his sleep and he'd run out of time to really grab an actual breakfast. But whatever. He paid attention as best he could, leg starting to bounce with nervous energy. When his phone buzzed, he glance down, distracted.

The name Zelda was on the screen, and he immediately tuned out everything around him.

They hardly messaged each other, really. Birthday wishes, the occasional "are you alive" text, that was about it. It was hard to maintain much of a good relationship sometimes, given... well, everything.

Hey. So. I have this patient. Heart attack, CABG, pathway, blah. But he's got family who knows you?? I just want to make sure??? Like he seemed legit but still. Says he goes by Wild.

He... the heart attack patient from yesterday...

Shit.

Legend texted quickly, gaze flicking between his phone and the person wearing a gown in the front. Yeah, I know a few people named Link, so we go by nicknames.

His sister's reply was practically instantaneous. Still not over the fact that you call yourself Legend LOL you're so lame

Legend huffed, feeling his cheeks flush. THERE'S A REASON OK

Uh huh. Sure. So this Wild dude is legit then? I didn't let some random stranger into my pt's room yest right?

Sighing, Legend replied, Nah he's legit. Good guy. Wish he could've told me his dad was here.

Because it had to be his father, right? The more Legend thought about it, the more it made sense. The man looked just like Wild, except for being older and more worn out. He'd been reaching out to Wild, calling out his name, in a frenzy. Wild had been acting strange. The long drawn out gaze with Time. All of it.

"Legend."

Glancing up, the travel nurse saw Warriors standing over him, looking grim. "Uh... Wars, you good?"

"Hope you paid attention to the training," Warriors said. "That patient who got diagnosed with Arfy at the urgent care is here. You're taking him."

Legend blinked. "He's--he's here? Did he get worse?"

"Yeah. They're intubating him now."

Great. As if his stomach wasn't in knots already. Warriors gave Legend the room and said that would be his only patient to try and decrease cross contamination with other rooms. Legend ran the training demonstration in his head, now mildly panicked that he'd ignored some of it in lieu of talking to his sister, but it was fairly straightforward. Everyone was already masking as a precaution, he just needed to start wearing gowns and goggles and face shields too.

Time to get to work.

XXX

Wild paced in his bedroom, simultaneously annoyed and thankful that he had tonight off. Everyone had texted him by this point asking if he was alright, and while he appreciated the sentiment, he really had no way of conveying that he desperately wanted and needed to keep his past separate from his present.

He hardly knew his life before Castle Town. But what he did remember was enough. He couldn't--he couldn't go back to that life. He'd lost everyone, and it had been his fault. As his memories had come back, he'd doubled down on avoiding his past, including his family.

How could he possibly reconcile the old him with who he was now, after all? He just wanted to close that chapter of his life. He just wanted closure, period. He was terrified of seeing his family again. What would they think of him? How could he have left them like he had? How could he ever return to them?

He... he wanted to check on his father. But he knew by now the rest of his family was likely at the hospital, and he did not need to see them. Guilt twisted his gut as he stared out the window, watching the cows graze in the pasture.

Sighing, he went downstairs, catching sight of Malon watching the news. He distracted himself with asking her what was up, and she said, "There's ten more cases of Arfy in town."

Wild blinked. Ten? Hadn't there just been one yesterday?

That... didn't bode well.

Before Wild could comment, Wind skipped in, having mentioned he was dropping by for dinner. "Yo, you guys should see the picture Legend just sent me of this guy's chest x-ray!"

Wild and Malon both crowded around Wind's phone to look at th eimage, and Wild asked, "So what am I looking at?"

Malon hissed, staring at the image. "Those lungs look awful."

"Right?" Wind glanced up at the OR nurse. "I'm surprised they have any compliance."

Wild stared at the pair dully. "I take it it's bad."

"His lungs are shot," Wind emphasized. "Like... they look like they're rocks. Legend said they can barely get the guy to oxygenate."

Wild felt a new twinge of anxiety in his chest. This new illness had been tearing through some cities in the Gerudo Desert, and now that it was in Castle Town...

As if he didn't have enough to worry about. He sighed. Hopefully his father would get better quickly and his family would leave before anything truly terrible happened.

Hopefully nothing terrible would happen at all.

#writing #lu in healthcare #lu legend #lu wild #lu warriors #lu malon #lu wind #Wild's just a ~little~ stressed #Fable is demonstrating peak sibling energy in teasing Legend #honestly I would too if my brother nicknamed himself “Legend” LOL #lu fable

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fortuna-et-cataclysmos · 1 year

Text

In defense of s5 finale

I hear and see a lot of people expressing dislike of the season finale, some also in the tags and comments of my analysis/speculation posts. So I wanted to further expand on this.

Gabriel's victory -being remembered a hero despite everything wrong he did, especially abuse to Adrien- has left a sour taste in many people's mouth; many blaming the scenarists and not shying away from calling it "bad writing."

But I think that that was exactly what the scenarists wanted to do? The perfect world Gabriel leaves behind is unsettling, unfair, and I think that the creators have done their best to show that implicitly but clearly. I think that we are supposed to be irked by the finale.

Why do I think that? Because there were a lot of small things that gave the message that, as @emsylcatac iconically put it, "this is the bad place." I touched upon some of those in my previous post on how this was a victory for Gabriel and Lila, and a defeat for Ladybug. I'll try to list them more clearly here.

Gabriel a hero

This is the one thing everyone has the most problem with. At the end, Gabriel was declared the hero who gave his life to defeat the Monarch, who was none other than himself. Some artistic choices here are so over the top that I believe they were specifically made to irk us.

If the silver statue itself wasn't enough, the exact quote of Caline Bustier is:

All the rings that have been highjacked by the Monarch have been recycled into a statue in honour of the great Gabriel Agreste.

Then Tsurugi Tomoe goes on to say:

Beyond the visionary entrepreneur and genius creator that he was, we are celebrating a hero today.

See, everything bad about Gabriel has been flipped. If you count literally exploiting people visionary entrepreneurship, sure, he was that. And genius? He couldn't get the miraculouses of two teenagers for an entire year despite having all the resources, and he ended up succeeding only with the help of another extremely powerful person (Tsurugi Tomoe) and even then he ended up dying himself.

As of creator, he was literally a destructor. He destroyed Paris more times than anyone can count, and everything was fixed every time only thanks to Ladybug. Let's not also forget how he destroyed the Miraculouses to exploit their power.

Adrien's comment about his father

This is another thing many people have had problem with. It is so outrageous that I won't believe the creators would expect us to take at face value.

At the end, Adrien acknowledges that his father died to take down the Monarch, and says:

I don't know if one day I'll manage to become like him.

Lo and behold, the man who had emotionally neglected and abused his son to no end has turned into the said son's hero and role model. Adrien not only looks up to him, but also wants to make an active effort to become like him. Hell, he even doubts if he can be as good as him.

No way this line can taken at face value. There are many children's shows with abusive parental figures nowadays (like She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the Owl House) that have all handled the conclusion to that abuse generally well. The watchers' expectations are high in this respect; the scenarists would know that such conclusion, if not ironic, would not satiate the expectations of the spectators.

Lack of accountability: Gabriel and Tomoe

As many many people have pointed out, the general lack of accountability in this season finale is infuriating. So Gabriel mentally tortured THE ENTIRE WORLD POPULATION and not only never faced consequences in life, but also is remembered as a hero in death?

What about Tomoe?

Not only she has not faced any repercussion for being basically a supervillain, but also she is still a respected public figure who can go and make a speech backed by the mayor, in front of the freaking French flag. If that doesn't irk you, I don't know what will.

Worse is that, she goes as far as saying in her speech that:

I'll make sure to continue his legacy.

So she'll continue to be evil. Great hint that she'll continue being an antagonist in season 6.

As you can see, the new world that has been created is extremely unfair and problematic. No way this can be "the good place," an actual "happy ending."

Everything is fixed! No problems anymore!

Also, you'd realise that the world is perfect, a little too perfect. It is like a green utopian dream.

Caline Bustier has been the mayor "only for a few weeks" (direct quote from the episode), and she has already fixed all the problems possible in Paris. Not only that, she has also solved inequality and class struggle (again, mentioned by herself). Let's make Caline the President of the World already.

Funny that LITERALLY ALL THE PROBLEMS of a city could be solved, while the exact same episode showed Majestia, the freaking Supergirl of the ML universe, acknowledged in her nightmare that:

Even with all my superpowers, I'll never manage to solve all the problems of the world.

Well, Bustier says that she has no superpower, that people working together can accomplish that. Kudos to her and her democratic spirit. But like, perfect city in a few weeks? Even Mayor Bourgeois who wanted to send all the trash of Paris to space would realise that that's impossible.

There is no perfect solution, yet the world is perfect

Ladybug acknowledges that there is no perfect solution to Gabriel's situation. Trying to bring back his wife, he has caused irreparable damage to himself and to Nathalie, effectively leaving Adrien an orphan. He still hopes that Ladybug can fix it all. But she can't because of the nature of the wish: for one thing gained, another thing should be lost. In Ladybug's words:

There is no perfect wish. Every time a power is used for personal gain, it causes catastrophes. (...) We'll find a solution, but it will never be as perfect as one would wish.

Interesting, given that the world ends up being completely perfect?

All the problems are solved, literally everyone is happy, Marinette and Adrien are finally together. But the wish was made for personal gain, no? So where are the consequences? Where is equivalent exchange? The catastrophe, the price of the perfect, green, just world? I think we'll see that in season 6.

The dream world

The new world is seriously giving me weird vibes. Like it is a movie set. For those who have watched The Good Place, you'd know how in the town everything feels a bit too bright, artificial, perfect. I get the same vibes from the post-wish world.

The Agreste mansion is covered by green vines?? Way to hide the atrocities that were planned and happened here.

Here is a screengrab I found on the internet from The Good Place (the ladybug is a funny coincidence lol)

I am getting the exact same vibes!

Also, I have expanded on that in my post on "running out of time" theme, but basically in the ML universe usually the "real" stuff are associated with the night and the rain while things that happen in the sun turn out to be fake or erased/forgotten. So the feeling that I get from this finale is that, this new "perfect" world is not genuine; that the seeming happiness it brings will be soon destroyed (I doubt erased), just as it happened in other fake reality episodes like Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, Oblivio, or Jubilation. As I argued before, this is not a permanent victory. Hell, it isn't even a real victory, not with the secret Marinette is left to keep from Adrien.

Not a real victory

Another thing that makes me think that this ending is not genuine is the lack of Chat Noir in the finale. Yes, I am a fervent Ladynoir stan who was hoping for some Ladynoir action (if not reveal) and was hugely disappointed by the lack of Chat's engagement in the final fight, but now that I think of it, this may have been on purpose.

Notice how in Conformation, Ladybug says:

Our only way to win against him is to fight him together.

And yet, soon thereafter, she is catapulted into a fight with the Monarch.

Notice also it wasn't her choice to unify the miraculouses and face the Monarch alone. She had to, because Chat Noir wasn't there.

Let's remember that this show spent the entire season 4 explaining how Ladybug assuming all the responsibility alone leads to disaster, how she needs Chat Noir to share the burden with him.

Let's also remember how in season 5, especially at the beginning of it, we see Ladybug change her behaviour towards Chat Noir: she gives him more responsibilities (the Bunny Miraculous, the identity of certain holders if I am not mistaken), and how at one point she confesses that Chat Noir has been very serious and responsible lately (and then promptly develops a crush on him).

So taking on the Monarch herself is really against everything they have built up in season 4 and the beginning of season 5. That's why I think that this "victory" is so wrong: it was "won" only by Ladybug. Maybe if Chat Noir were there, he would have prevented the Monarch from making the wish (hypothetically, then we would have an entirely different timeline). If his identity were revealed the way Marinette's was, Gabriel could have controlled him through his amok. In any case, their defeat or victory would have looked very different from this.

In the end, we must remember that this world is far from being a victory for Ladybug: she has, after all, LOST. She couldn't stop Gabriel from making the wish. And while this world looks perfect, and we got what seems like a forever happy after ending for Adrinette, their happiness is set in a non-genuine victory and world.

So I think we shouldn't be angry with the show-runners: there is a reason why this ending feels and is wrong. If it were all wonderful, it wouldn't be the season finale. It would be the finale, period. And I believe that everything that has been disturbing us in this season finale will be addressed, if not consist of the core conflict of season 6. Let's all take a deep breath and turn to fan fiction or fan art till we get the new season now :) (at least that's what I'll do lol)

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #from fortuna #ml conformation #ml recreation #ml analysis #ml meta #ladynoir #adrinette #ml speculation

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batboyblog · 11 days

Note

Less than 60 days out from the election, how do you think we’re doing, considering the recent debate and Taylor Swift unleashing the Swifties?

I'll start this by saying we're with-in the margin of effort, if either side really puts their backs into it, and pushes and shows up, volunteers in big numbers and turns out voters it could go either way.

So having said that, I feel good, right now the national polls are close, but all show Harris ahead. The swing state polls likewise are close but mostly show tied or leaning to Harris. On top of which Senate Democrats (and the candidate for Governor in NC) are running far ahead of her in polling, I hope thats a sign that late undecideds will break Democrat, they often do break toward the incumbent.

On the debate, I'm often skeptical that debates shift things. That said I think anyone watching would say that debate is pretty unique in the history of Presidential debates. The media has been working very hard to uh "sane wash" Trump and what he says. That debate was an unfiltered view of Trump. I'm frankly shocked he brought up the pet eating, the right has been meming about it but I thought he'd only say some dogwhistle to it not just straight up say some of the most racist shit imaginable on live TV. The bar for Trump was very low and he still failed totally to meet it. Likewise Harris had a high bar and met it, she was claim, she was professional, she came across as ready and smart while also serving as the audience surrogate to let us all know "yeah this is as crazy as you think it is"

just briefly here the attack on Haitian Americans is crazy, and racist, and the whole "the immigrants are eating dogs" goes back 100+ years, I've read people accusing NYC Jews in the early 1900s of kidnapping and eating neighborhood cats and dogs. But also its politically crazy too since Florida where Trump and Republican Senator Rick Scott have both been slipping in the polls as America's largest ethnic Haitian community, just over 500,000 or roughly 2% of the state, so great plan to call them pet stealing and eating monsters just before an election.

The other factor is the Laura Loomer. If anyone doesn't know who she is click that link and enjoy, but basically she's a white nationalist and Islamophobe (that's according to her) and the person extreme far right Republicans point to as proof that they're not "that bad" any ways, Loomer seems to have been with Trump, on his plane the day of the debate and every day since, and Republicans are wigging out

MTG, and any number of Trump super supporters are sounding off about how much they don't like this, and the internet is "joking" that Trump and Loomer are sleeping together. Together with his unhinged debate being connected with one of the worst people in American politics might cause serious problems. In any case a campaign of just alt-right memes is not gonna win most Americans.

On TSwift, I mean the data I've seen showed a really big jump in people exploring registering to vote after her message which is good. I'm again skeptical about how much of an impact she'll have? celebrities in general don't have that big of an impact, basically 90% of famous people are Democrats/liberal, but their fans don't always go along, don't get me wrong I'm happy she endorsed I just am unsure how big an impact it'll end up having.

So to repeat what I said at the top, we're in the margin of effort, if everyone who doesn't want Trump volunteers and puts in the work Harris will win, so

VOLUNTEER

#politics #us politics #american politics #kamala harris #Trump #taylor swift

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 1 year

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hi there! love your work! i recently had a prof say that all zoos (USA) are bad (so we shouldn't support them) and sanctuaries are better because using animals for entertainment is morally wrong, most zoo profits dont go to conservation, and conservation efforts are bandaid solutions to capitalism destroying animal habitats, so the real solution is to return the land to indigenous stewards to manage/rewild. i didn't disagree with the last bit, but the argument as a whole felt a little off to me for a reason i couldnt put my finger on. am i off base here? just feeling really unsure about the whole thing.

You're not wrong! There's a mix of reality and personal opinions in those statements, and it's definitely something worth critically examining. A quick fact-check of what they said for you:

All US zoos are bad

There's a massive range of quality of zoological facilities within the US (and around the world). Some are stellar and some are not, and it's really just not accurate to lump them all under the same umbrella for almost any purpose. Unless, of course, your issue isn't with animal welfare, and it's philosophical, which is what it sound like in #2...

2. Using animals for entertainment is morally wrong.

This is one of my favorite things to talk about w/r/t how we exhibit animals. Entertainment has become equated with exploitation and implicit low welfare in the last couple decades, and so you get a lot of people saying using animals for entertainment is wrong. But those same folk will say that they enjoy seeing animals in other contexts, and they think that's okay. Where's the line between enjoying something and being entertained by it? What makes something one and not the other? Also, we know that people learn better from from situations which are enjoyable/entertaining - even just a fun teacher who jokes around vs a dry lecture - so how can that only be a problem when it's used to make viewing animals more impactful? I wrote a whole piece on this a while back (linked here) if you want to dig into this more. Some zoos (and accrediting groups) are shying away from "entertainment" type branding - shows are demos now, for instance - and others are leaning into "edutainment" that's done with good welfare and communicates actual education messaging. In short, this is a personal philosophical belief, and you're right to question if you agree. (Even if you decide you do think that too! It's always good to question why someone is arguing what they believe about animal use, and how they came to believe it).

3. Sanctuaries are better than zoos.

There's two reasons I think he's misinformed here. First, almost all exotic animal sanctuaries in the US are licensed exhibitors - just like zoos! I only know of a couple that don't exhibit to the public at all. It's an important part of their revenue stream, because gate take helps support paying for animal care. Also anything you see from a sanctuary on Youtube, Facebook, or TikTok? Also exhibition! They just message about it differently, and often have a different ethos about how they exhibit (e.g. tours to reduce stress instead of letting people wander, doing conservation or rescue messaging instead of just display). Second... look, most people assume that the word "sanctuary" means a facility is intrinsically more ethical than a zoo, and therefore they must be a good place. In reality, many sanctuaries get much less public and regulatory scrutiny (at the state level) than most zoos. There are good sanctuaries out there, but there are also sanctuaries where stuff goes on that would absolutely be unacceptable at zoos, and it slides because of the assumption that sanctuaries are inherently more moral and ethical and care for their animals better.

4. Most zoo profits don't go to conservation

This is correct! Direct conservation funding is often a small part of the money a zoo makes. However, that's because money goes to things like facility maintenance, new construction, paying salaries, etc. If zoos put all the money they made back into conservation programs, practically, they wouldn't have the funding to continue to operate. The question that I'd suggest asking instead is "where are they putting money into conservation" and "are they doing conservation work or just throwing money at something to display the logo of the program." Also, it's worth keeping in mind that a lot of what zoos do to support conservation isn't necessarily financial. Many facilities contribute "in-kind", by doing things like sending staff to assist with programs or teach specific skills, or by donating things like vehicles and equipment. Research zoos do also seriously contributes to in-situ programs, and breeding programs for re-introduction like the scimitar-horned oryx and the black-footed ferret are also conservation. Could many of the big urban facilities with huge budgets do more? Yes. But looking just at dollars spent on conservation programs is disingenuous and inaccurate.

5. Conservation efforts are band-aid solutions to capitalism destroying habitats / Returning the land to indigenous peoples to manage/rewild is the real solution to conservation issues

This is a little outside my scope so I'm going to only address the part that I know. First off, like, there's no One True Answer to conservation issues. That's reductionist and inaccurate. Conservation really is a human issue, though, and it often has to involve solving human problems that lead to negative results for animals. There's definitely an issue with what some people call "parachute conservation" where Westerners swoop in and try to tell people living in range countries how to best manage their animals and natural resources without recognizing their perspectives, needs, or what drives their behavior towards those animals. That's not just a zoo issue - that's an issue with a ton of traditional Western conservation work. And there is progress towards fixing it! In the zoo world, I've been very impressed with the work out of The Living Desert, where their conservation people spend a lot of time overseas teaching people in range countries to evaluate and improve their own conservation programs, so they can assess efficacy and also have data to apply for grants, etc. They provide support when asked, rather than trying to tell people who live with these animals regularly what to do. One of my favorite programs that TLD collaborates with (they don't try to run it!) is a group called the Black Mambas that reduces poaching by supporting entire communities to reduce the desperation for food/income, educating kids about animals, and running all-female patrols staffed by community members.

Overall, it sounds like your professor's view of zoos is really informed by their personal moral perspective, and possibly reinforced by a lot of the misinformation / misleading messaging that exists about the industry and about conservation work. They do have some specifics right, but not necessarily the context to inform why things are like that. It was a good catch to question the mix of information and approach it critically.

#zoo industry #zoo information #philosophy around zoos and what they do #conservation #zoo questions

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Catch Me If You Can 2/3

Mob!Bucky x single mom police officer

I am so happy you all loved these two so here is more from this AU. I had the story half in mind but wasn’t sure if people would feel it, once again, LMK if you want more!

Warnings: fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning

Part 1

Part 3

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee, sun pouring in the giant room, your body still aching from the night before but the peaceful rest proved to be helpful. You smiled at the steaming cup that sat by your bedside table, picking up the hand drawn card that was placed beside it; giant heart coloured red was in the middle with the words Get Well Soon decorated in bold letters. You grinned, opening the card to read your sons hand writing.

Dear mommy,

Get well soon. Uncle Bucky says he took good care of you and that you’ll arrest him once you’re all better. He bought me a kinder egg. He seems nice. Maybe give him a running head start.

Love and kisses and cuddles,

Jordan

PS: Can we stay a little longer? Peter is still trying to beat me in Mario Kart

On the side of the card were a bunch of other messages, each signed by Bucky’s men. You shook your head at the signatures, your son having asked every one of Bucky’s men to sign the card, well wishes from them all scattered across the paper. A knock at the door broke you away from the card as Bucky peeked in, happy to see you were awake.

“Where did he get art supplies” You snorted, while Bucky walked in, carrying a tray of eggs and toast. You whispered a quiet thank you as he set it down for you, taking a seat by the edge of the bed.

“Had Steve pick some up” Bucky couldn't help but chuckle, remembering the way your son had asked him to sign the card before proceeding to go around the house with a glittery pen.

“He loves to draw” you hummed, tracing over the bright, colourful letters on the smooth paper, the materials clearly from a higher quality art store. As nice as everything was at the moment, tension lingered in the air; the question of how you ended up in this position in the first place still left unanswered.

“What happened” Bucky spoke softly while you turned away not meeting his gaze. Your jaw clenched as your hand skimmed over the bandage that covered your gash, a dull ache still radiating through your side.

“It was-nothing” You lied poorly, unsure of to explain the situation to Bucky of all people, “Just some people trying to scare me”

He didn’t believe it for a second.

“This was personal doll” Bucky tilted your chin to meet his eyes, knowing damn well even some of the more unruly gang members in the area wouldn’t dare attack a police officer in their home, especially when they had a child. “Who hurt you”

“It doesn’t matter” You shook your head feeling helpless, knowing the problem wasn’t something you’d ever be able to easily get rid of. Bucky chewed his lip, deciding not to press the matter further but he couldn’t help the curiosity that still picked his brain.

“Jordan came to me...didn’t call 911″ He cocked his head, wondering why your son would chose to come to his club over easily calling 911 to help you, something you would have surely taught him. (Especially after he had kidnapped him...)

“He goes to people he can trust” You stated, nibbling on the toast, groaning at the grin that spread across Bucky’s face, “Don’t get it twisted, that doesn't mean I trust you”

“Of course, officer”

God, he was such a little shit. You hated the way his charming laugh made your insides giddy along with the way he was taking care of both you and your son. As if he could read your thoughts on que, he spoke before you could mentioning leaving. “Stay a little longer”

“Bucky-”

He shook his head, not letting you speak further, urging you to finish breakfast instead.

“Your home was compromised, the locks were broken off. Let Sam and Steve clear some stuff up a bit and reinstall some new locks. They’re on it right now”

You wanted to protest but you also knew there was no arguing with him, if all past encounters with his illegal antics proved anything. When he set his mind to something, he did it. This was one of the few times you were secretly happy he was so hard headed.

“Alright” You smiled softly, cocking your brow at the smirk that danced on his lips immediately after.

“Can’t promise I won’t give myself a spare, doll” Bucky winked leaving you to finish eating and rest up while he quietly made his way out to make sure your house was taken care of.

As promised, Sam and Steve had gone above and beyond, cleaning and patching up all the damages, including replacing the broken photo frames that were smashed to bits. The locks they added were far stronger than the ones you had from the Home Depot, clearly purchased from somewhere you had no idea existed. Bucky had dropped you home along with a very excited Jordan who felt like he had Christmas twice this year, hauling bags of art supplies behind him.

“Y’know this changes nothing” You reminded him, your cheeks warming up at the way he bit his lip, giving you a cocky smirk.

Little shit.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, doll”

*****

As expected, gang activity was back up and you were back to your job of investigating the latest nonsense Bucky was up to. You seemed to still be the only one concerned about stopping what he was doing while the rest of the department pretended not to see a damn thing. Most of the day would alternate between you trying to do your job and being told to lay off the mob boss.

The worst was the little traitor that lived under your own roof.

“Uncle Bucky is kinda like Batman” Jordan stated while you gave him a pointed look, continuing to make him breakfast which now consisted of scrambled eggs and toast, just like how uncle Bucky makes them.

“Explain” You knew you were going to regret asking as soon as it came out of your mouth.

“Well, he’s rich. Very rich. He likes to help people. He wears a suit. He stops the bad guys”

“He is a bad guy Jordan” You had your hands on your hip, challenging Bucky’s latest swimfan.

“But the badder guys! That has to count for something” He peeked at you with hopeful eyes before turning back to his toast, nervously poking at it. “Can I play with Peter?”

“Peter” You frowned, not remembering any of Jordan’s friends with that name. “Peter who?”

“Paarkerr” He drawled out, blinking up at you while you connected the pieces together, your eyes growing wide.

“Absolutely not”

“But moooom” Jordan gave you his best puppy pout, “None of the kids in my class are as good, you told me I should challenge myself”

“That doesn’t mean you find competition in the house of the Mafia, Jordan!” You scoffed while he slumped his shoulders, hopping off his chair to get ready for school. You knew he was guilting you, acting as if you had refused to feed him for the rest of his life, staring out the car window like a sad puppy on his way to the pound. You kissed him goodbye, promising him you’d “think about it” before driving over to the prescient, most of the day filled with paperwork, a part of your actually thinking about letting Jordan play video games with Peter before you shook some sense back into your head.

Just because he saved you once didn’t mean you had to let your son play with his junior henchmen.

*****

You sipped on some tea as evening rolled around after helping Jordan with homework, the rest of his night spent using the newest fancy art supplies he’d gotten. You no longer paid attention to the show on TV, frowning at the unmarked truck that had circled the block twice. Then three times. You carefully reached for a gun tucked under the sofa and stood by the side of the window just out of sight. The SUV came to a stop near your driveway; uncalled for butterflies erupting in your tummy when you realized who it was.

Bucky stepped out of the truck while you opened the door, your son much quicker than you, slipping past your arm and darting straight outside.

“Uncle Bucky!!” Jordan grinned, bounding towards the all black SUV, ignoring your calls for him to slow down, maybe not run with so much passion and admiration for a man who had once kidnapped him and taken care of you and nursed you back to health and changed your locks and why the hell were you feeling hot and fuzzy right now.

“Hey kid” Bucky smiled while you huffed, making your way over, poorly masking the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Did you get lost Barnes, or were you here to kidnap me today instead?” You teased while Jordan slipped back into the truck to talk to his second favorite “Uncle” Steve.

“You wound me doll, y’know, I’m not just a heartless gang leader” his facial expression almost the exact same as what Jordan had given you earlier. “Just came to see how you were” He said sincerely, not realizing his heart rate had calmed as soon as he saw you and your little one safe in your home.

“We’re safe” You nodded, your heart fluttering at the way his gaze softened, scanning the area just to be sure there wasn’t anyone he didn’t recognize lingering near by.

“Good to know” Bucky murmured, giving you a once over before getting back in the truck and leaving for the night. He didn’t like that he was still in the dark over what your story was. He didn’t like not knowing who hurt you; they were still out there and it made him sick. You didn’t deserve that. Jordan didn’t deserve that. You didn’t need to know that he had done some digging, learning a bit more about you but not enough to get answers.

You also didn’t need to know that his unannounced visits were more frequent that you realized, sometimes a car circling around Jordan’s school, sometimes a quick roll around the block at midnight.

Steve and Sam were only able to contain themselves for so long, making their own betting pool over how this would all end.

They hoped it’d end with them getting a nephew.

Maybe one day.

*****

6 missed calls

4 voicemails

100+ text messages

Your jaw clenched watching your phone ring again, the No Caller ID screen shining bright as you ignored the call. Of course you still had the other issue to deal with. One that you had kept hidden ever since you moved to the city. One that had followed and found you over and over again, even after you managed to change your number and address.

The nightmare never stopped.

“You gonna get that? Someone’s been trynna to reach you all day” Your boss piqued as he walked by, curiously eyeing your phone that had been ringing the entire morning and afternoon, eventually muffled when you stuffed it in your bag.

“It’s fine” You gave him a tight lipped smile, waiting for him to pass by before calling your son’s school and making sure he was still there, informing them to not let anyone else pick him up but you.

As you drove home with him, you were on edge, your nerves ready to snap, heart rate spiking erratically. Jordan chatted your ear off about how he was still the reigning champion of his video game but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of uneasiness, the same feeling you got the day Bucky rescued you. The same day you were attacked.

You just knew.

The front door was still locked as you inserted the key.

The lights were all still turned off.

But you knew.

The hairs on your neck stood up as soon as you entered your home, the smell of alcohol enough for you to know who was already inside.

“Babycheeekss”

Your stomach flipped, the blood in your veins turning into ice as he stepped out from the shadows, his feet crunching over the glass from the window he had broken into.

Not again.

“Baby, go upstairs” you whispered to your son, who was reluctant to leave your side, refusing to look at the man that was supposedly his father. You nudged him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze urging him to leave; the last thing you needed was for him to be further traumatized. Jordan shakily made his way up, stopping at the top of the stairs so he’d still be able to see you, reaching for the baseball bat he had kept by his room.

Uncle Bucky would be proud of me, he thought, his small hands tightening around the handle, fiercely protective over his mama.

“Why are you here” You hissed, flashbacks clouding your mind over the way he had broken into your house and didn’t take no for an answer.

He’d rather have you dead than live peacefully single.

“To see my son” Your ex shrugged, taking another casual step towards you while you backed up, slowly reaching for your gun. “I mean, he is my son, isn’t he? Unless you think there’s reason to believe he isn’t” Andrew sneered, while you scoffed, your hands trembling, hoping Jordan was safe in his room before you drew your weapon. The last thing you needed was for him to get hurt while protecting the both of you.

Before you could do anything, the front door swung open with a bang, your ex’s eyes growing wide, frozen in place, focused on the man that was now behind you.

You turned around, gasping at the soft baby blue eyes that were peering down at you, his pink lips this time with a deep frown instead of his typical boyish smirk. Bucky gently tugged your arm, pulling you behind him, keeping you far away from your ex who was staring daggers at the both of you.

“What the fu-”

“Stay away from her” Bucky growled while you ex scoffed, taking a step forward instead.

“And who the hell are you? Her latest fuck? A new boytoy to play with?” Your ex challenged, unable to hide the quiver in his voice. If not for the seriousness of the situation, Bucky would have laughed. It was a valid question. Who was he to you anyway?

“Mommy?” Jordan padded down the stairs, instantly rushing to your side, his worries washing away when he saw who had come to the rescue.

“Stay upstairs Jordan” You tried to urge him back upstairs but he stayed rooted in place, not willing to leave if there was someone trying to hurt you.

“Let me see my son-” Andrew tired to take a step forward but Bucky wasn't having any of it, keeping the both of you behind him, and pushing your ex away.

“Don’t” Bucky growled, keeping his itching hands away from his gun. It would have taken him all but 1 second to put a bullet between Andrews eyebrows and have the body disposed of within the half hour but he didn’t want to either of you to have to witness that.

“Hey bud” Your ex tried to reach out for Jordan again, hoping he’d get some leverage if he got him in his hands. “C’mon, you missed me, didn’t ya?”

Jordan trembled, his small hand clutching onto the back of Bucky’s suit jacket, the other still holding his bat. He shook his head, tightening his grip when he saw the anger flash across his fathers eyes. Bucky reached behind, taking your hand in his, holding it firmly in his grip hoping to ground you.

“Leave” Bucky stared at your ex, nodding towards the door, giving him a final warning to leave with his life. Andrew glared at him before narrowing his eyes at you and Jordan while he silently left, the look he gave you telling you this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see you. Or so he thought.

As soon as he was out the door, Bucky immediately turned to you, his hand cupping your face, scanning you up and down for any signs of injury, his features softening when he didn’t see anything.

“You’re coming with me” Bucky stated, taking your hand in his again, ignoring the way his heart was still beating out of his chest. You wanted to argue against it but you didn’t feel safe in your own home and a hotel didn’t exactly seem like a safer option.

Perhaps sleeping with the enemy wasn’t so bad...

At least sleeping at his house.

You cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the door that was perfectly in tact, no signs of a forced entry from when Bucky entered the house. How the hell did he get in.

“How did you-”

“Told you I’d make myself a spare” Bucky grinned, twirling a small gold key between his fingers, itching to wrap his arms around you. He squeezed his hand to his side instead, letting you go up to pack some things to take to his place while he waited for you outside.

You had agreed to stay at his place until the window as fixed and a security system was installed throughout your house.

Then you agreed to stay for an additional week just to be safe.

Then that turned into two weeks to make sure Jordan was extra safe.

Then that turned into three weeks while Bucky took care of business. He didn’t tell you what that meant but he promised you’d never have to worry about Andrew again.

The nature of your relationship was confusing.

You spent time with Bucky, sometimes with Jordan and sometimes all by yourself while both boys ditched you to do something that would probably leave you reeling. There had even been a number of times where Bucky himself had gone to pick up Jordan from school, your little one more than happy to ride in the huge dark truck, any chance he got.

You had no idea what to do with yourself, screaming internally on a daily basis, wondering why someone who did 101 illegal things a day made you feel giddy, feel safe, feel butterflies, all while quietly tossing a body off into the lake.

It didn’t matter what you felt.

It didn’t matter than his charming smile made you melt.

It didn’t matter than he took care of you in every way possible, not once looking at you in a way that was disrespectful.

Nothing mattered.

You were both still too different for anything to happen.

Sweet as Bucky was, nothing would happen between the both of you.

That's just how things had to be.

You reminded yourself that every night, whenever Jordan rambled on for hours over how much fun he had with uncle Bucky, how he taught him self defense, bought him more art supplies, beat Peter at video games again, got used as a human volley ball between uncle Steve and Sam.

That's just how things had to be.

Then why were you still in his house.

“I don’t think I like the name Uncle Bucky anymore”

“You don’t, huh?” Bucky smirked at his little side kick, your son no longer paying attention to his homework which he now often did in Bucky’s office. He took a sip from his apple house, swirling the ice around the glass cup just as Bucky did with his whiskey, taking another long drag before setting it down.

“We look alike” Jordan stated, looking up at the mob boss while they both sat on the office couch, neither of them focused on their work anymore. Jordan reached over for the kinder egg that sat on the table, a treat Bucky had bought him for doing well on his math test.

“We do” Bucky nodded, while Jordan smiled in satisfaction, munching on the chocolate, scooting over a little closer to Bucky.

“Some people say you look like my dad” He spoke a little more quietly this time, inching closer until he was pressed against Bucky’s side.

“Uh-huh” Bucky watched Jordan curiously while he assembled the toy, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Sooo...”

“Soo?” Bucky waited for him to continue while Jordan fidgeted with his kinder egg toy, his eyes now trained on his lap, worried about what the answer would be.

“Can I call you dad instead?” His voice was small, wavering slightly, unsure how Bucky would react. He held his breath, not daring to look anywhere else, hoping his request wouldn’t upset the mob boss. He didn’t need to know that he’d already been calling Bucky dad in his head for a while.

What would da-uncle Bucky say?

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent

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aspoonofsugar · 6 months

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RWBY Volume 9 Epilogue: The Five Stages of Grief Again

As @greenteaandtattoos's friend noticed, volume 9 epilogue has its five narrators embody the five stages of grief:

Negation - refusal to aknowledge the truth, while clinging to a preferable reality.

Anger - lashing out on others in an attempt to channel one's pain and frustration.

Bargaining - being ready to negotiate, to give something in order to avoid loss. When death already happened, it is about exploring what ifs scenarios.

Depression - sadness, desperation and refusal to engage with others. It often comes with low energy.

Acceptance - coming to terms with one's loss and finding a new stability.

This isn't surprising, as volume 9 as a whole uses this motif. In particular, Ruby herself goes through the 5 stages twice. First to grieve over Penny and then to face her emotions towards Summer. Finally, RWBYJN reach acceptance (the main theme). Acceptance of death, loss, pain, change and of themselves. All in all, RWBYJ's journey in the Ever after is a metaphor for the process of grieving. Well, the epilogue shows us how the other characters have been dealing with this emotion.

So, here comes NORWQ as the 5 stages of grief:

Nora = anger: tbf she is the most difficult to pintpoint, as she fits the pattern less than others. Still, her section focuses on how Vacuans and Atlesians are both reacting with anger at the new status quo. Vacuans are frustrated that Atlas brought its own problems into their Kingdom. Atlesians are furious nobody came to help them. Nora herself enters into a short confrontation with two angry Vacuans and clearly projects her own past into the conflict. What's wrong with orphans? What's wrong with her?

Oscar = negation: our Little Prince is the only one that believes Ruby and the others might be alive. He even looks for an answers into books (mirroring how RWBYJ is grieving through a fairy tale). On a personal level, he and Ozpin are both fighting the merge, so they are negating a transformation, which is bound to happen.

Ren = bargaining: Lotus boy is trying to replace Jaune as the glue who keeps the team together. He is conscious of everyone's feelings and problems, but is not sure on how to handle them. Moreover, his section deals with how Salem's faction goes through a bargain. Sure, it lost some people in Atlas, but Tyrian and Mercury free the Crown, so that new forces are ready to fight for the Evil Witch of the West.

Winter = depression: our Winter Maiden is dealing very very badly with Penny and Weiss's lost. She blames herself for everything and is far away from accepting Penny's final teaching: "I won't be gone, I will be a part of you". Winter is struggling to honor both Penny and Weiss's legacy. If anything, she feels she isn't the right person to do so. Her section is also the most somber on a macrochosm level. As a matter of fact through her we discover Vale was destroyed by Salem and we see how the refugees are not handling their new situation well.

Qrow = acceptance: Qrow is Winter's opposite, as he is the closest to find acceptance. On a personal level, he shows he has integrated with Clover. He has embraced his friend's optimism and has learnt to love himself through him. This is why his semblance evolved and he is now able to bring both good and bad luck. This new found balance lets him find hope even in the bad situation the world is in. He sees how people are showing kindness and realizes Ruby's message is the first step into uniting Remnant.

Of course, our five narrators all foil each other in different ways. I have discussed Qrow and Winter here, so let's see what to say about Nora, Ren and Oscar.

RENORA = LONELY TOGETHER

Nora and Ren are going through an inversion of their dynamic. Nora is now repressing her feelings and avoiding Ren's attentions and offers of support. Ren instead is grieving openly and is trying to be open with his feelings.

Nora isn't even able to speak directly with the person she lost, but narrates talking to no-one in particular. She mostly speaks about the macrochosm and uses plural forms. "We buried our friends", "I think everyone lost someone that day", "For us it was a relief, but for the Vacuans", ""What if we can't go on, what if we are too scarred?". She is in a sense the embodyment of everyone's grief. At the same time, she is so disconnected from her own trauma, that she can only read it while projecting it on the world:

Ren: Nora, she is putting the world on her shoulders.

Ren instead is the one more focused on the feelings of the people around him. Through his point of view, we discover how the other main characters are doing. We realize Nora is too focused on the macrochosm, while Oscar has trouble with the microchosm (he just isn't himself). Ren is trying to balance out the two dimensions. He is grieving for Jaune and is inheriting his legacy. At the same time, he understands that just like his friends are fighting to overcome anger and pain, so is the world. By doing this, he once again draws a parallel between Nora and the World:

I think the epilogue of volume 9 (or the prologue of volume 10?) sets up Nora as a strong symbolic character in Vacuo. She is Vacuo itself, struggling with pain, grief and anger. She is Atlesian orphans, nameless children too scarred to go on. Ren's role will probably be to step in and remind her how beautiful she is.

OSCAR = STAGNATION

Oscar's conflict permeates both the microchom and the macrochosm. It is synthesized by this phrase:

Oscar: "You always believed in the best. You saw people for who they really were. Some of us don't know anymore."

Here, Oscar is speaking both:

Of himself, who is slowly and painfully merging with Ozpin

Of the world, which finds itself in "uncharted territory"

Oscar is uncertain. Of who he is. Of what to do. So, he looks up to Ruby, who was always certain and could "see the world through better eyes".

At the same time, Oscar's situation strongly suggests he is stagnating. He refuses to accept RWBYJ's death (he is right, but it isn't a healthy reaction). He fights the merge unsuccessfully. He can neither go back to the person he was before nor can he progress towards a better version of himself. Basically, just as Ruby is finding the path back to herself in the Ever After, Oscar is losing himself in Vacuo. This is (just like in Renora's case) an inversion to their previous dynamic. Back in Atlas, Oscar was the one progressing, whereas Ruby was stagnating. Right now, they start their stories in Vacuo in an inversed situation.

OTHER POSSIBLE FOILINGS

Of course, the epilogue/prologue offers several possible foilings that could be explored in volume 10. Here are some (but they aren't all).

Ren and Winter are both talking to the "sibling" they entered a conflict with in volume 8. Both grew distant from Jaune and Weiss, only to reconcile later on. Now, they realize how much Jaune and Weiss did to keep their respective families together. They celebrate their legacies and wonder if they might be able to live up to it. This might also foreshadow some foiling of Jaune and Weiss themselves, once they come back.

Qrow and Oscar are both talking to Ruby (to be fair, Qrow speaks to everyone, but thematically Ruby is her interlocutor). However, Qrow has managed to integrate (with Clover), while Oscar fights integration (with Ozpin (understandably so)). At the same time, Qrow focuses on how Ruby has changed the world, whereas Oscar focuses on how Ruby has changed him.

Nora and Qrow open and end the epilogue. Nora is the one who struggles to grieve the most (she is the only one who never visits the memorial, after the cerimony). She insists she must move on, but also wonders if she will ever be able to. Qrow instead is the one who deals the best with the situation. He finds serenity while at the memorial and grieves in a hopeful way thanks to the murales realized by the community. Both are very involved with helping people and the refugees. Nora is shown helping children and states she wants to help Velvet before eating herself. Qrow keeps going into meetings with Theodore, he spends time with Robyn and the kids and helps the Schnees giving out free food. Still, Nora is clearly wearing herself out, whereas Qrow genuinelly finds hope and energy. Nora is symbolically one of the orphans trying to carry the world. Qrow is instead a mentor, who has learnt he doesn't have to face the world alone.

OTHER THOUGHTS

Happy to see the Crown. I think Jill and Jax have the potential to foil Emercury to an extent, so I am happy to see them (it's them, right?) with Merc. It is also something I had always thought that Tyrian and Mercury's mission to Vacuo might have been to find some new allies there. The Crown were the obvious choice.

I feel neutral about team CFVY appearing so much in the epilogue. My guess is that they are set up to be minor foils to RWBY, kind of like the Happy Huntresses and the Ace Ops were in Atlas. I think the books give them enough set-up to solve their arc in a quick way, while commenting on those of the main characters.

I was surprised about the revelation of Salem attacking Vale. I wonder if she found the crown. I doubt it, so far and I think Glynda missing is clearly set-up as a future plot-point. In any case, we'll see. I am open to everything.

#rwby #rwby volume 9 #greenlight volume 10 #rwby volume 10 #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #lie ren #winter schnee #qrow branwen #rwby meta #my meta

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formulapookie · 3 months

Text

I FINISHED IT

under the cut to read on tumblr, here for Ao3

Giving all of myself to you rosquez, 4.8k words

he couldn’t fucking believe his eyes.

out of every goddamn person at that party Marc had to go and talk to Dovizioso?

the one guy who had managed to be in Marc’s bed while they were on no speaking terms?

he had even thought it was an uncalculated event, they just bumped into each other and talked like normal people.

but as soon as he met Marc’s eyes he knew it wasn’t the case.

Marc had done that intentionally, he just had to be fucking bratty every change he got.

His eyes were filled with lust, he wanted to see how far he could get before Vale came to him and snatched him from Dovi’s side to bring him back home and fuck him stupid.

Vale tried to warn him, to behave until the party was over, it was just three hours more couldn’t Marc be calm for once?

no.

He had to be a trouble and get Vale riled up and jealous in the midst of a party held by Ducati of all fucking things.

The breaking point for Vale was seeing Marc put a hand on Dovi’s bicep and squeeze it. Fucking. Squeeze it.

Vale sent a message to Marc telling him to get in the car while he headed out, giving the excuse of being tired because he was old when his boys asked him where he was fleeing to.

He hoped they buyed it because he couldn’t exactly tell them “I’m going back home because Marc cannot behave like a normal person and I have to fuck him into next sunday”

Once Vale was finally outside he could already spot Marc leaning on his car, waiting for him with a knowing smirk.

the little shit.

Vale unlocked the car and got in without uttering a word, Marc following him and still smiling during the whole drive, neither of them saying a single thing, it wasn’t a necessity, they both knew what this night promised to them.

Vale focused his gaze on the street in front of his eyes, hands so tight around the steering wheel his knuckles were turning white, the outline of the veins on his arms clearly visible even in the dark night in Borgo Panigale.

It awakened something almost animalistic in Marc, he imagines those hands being around his throat, stopping the flow of oxygen and getting him lightheaded, just to release their grip and move down to his dick, teasing him until he couldn’t anymore.

He kept staring at Vale’s hand, biting his bottom lip and lightly brushing one of his own hands on his bulge, who was now everything but invisible.

Obviously Vale noticed, but he didn’t give in to the younger’s temptations to have him stop the car and rail him into the backseat.

Those were the longest 15 minutes of his life, having Marc make pretty eyes at him and even soft whimpers a few times, but he was set on punishing him for how he acted during the party and if meant he had to restrain himself for 15 minutes then so be it.

Vale doesn’t speak to him, not even once they arrive at the Hotel they were staying in, and Marc begins to get worried.

Did he push too much? Was it not part of their game to Vale?

At that point they are in front of Vale’s hotel room, he looks at the older man swiping the card and the light from the door turning green, and before he can begin to apologize for his behavior because he really thinks he went overboard with it he is pushed against the wall by Vale, who goes directly for his throat, biting and licking it like a starved man.

And Marc is just deliciously easy for Vale when he acts like that, his whimpers becoming more and louder with each scratch of the man’s teeth on his throat.

He is so relieved he didn’t go overboard with the teasing tonight because the last thing he wants is for Vale to think he has other men in mind except for him, when actually Vale was the only thing with a permanent residency in his brain.

“Why do you always have to behave like a slut when we’re in public? Am I not fucking you enough? Because if that’s the problem we can solve it tonight, I think this will be enough for a while, I don’t think you’re getting out of bed tomorrow with your own legs”

Jesus. He doesn’t have time to answer because Vale tilts him and presses himself against him. He can feel Vale’s cock against the curve of his ass, making him lose his mind a little.

“Vale please” a dark chuckle comes from behind, as Vale licks a strip up his neck, making him shiver and whimper once again.

“You are still demanding? After what you pulled earlier? I don’t think it’s really your place to demand things right now is it?”

Oh God Marc likes so much where this is heading.

It is going to be one of those nights where Vale takes complete control of the situation, reducing Marc to nothing more than a begging whore.

He just lets out a high pitched moan and presses himself more on Vale, feeling his own dick twitching from excitement.

He feels one of Vale’s hands tugging on his hair and pulling his head back, with just enough force to still be arousing.

He feels hungry lips attacking his throat once more, this time leaving deep blue hickeys all over it.

Once he is satisfied with how he practically painted Marc’s throat with his marks Vale lets go of him, separating their bodies and turning around, beginning to take off his clothes.

“Get on the bed. I am gonna grab a few things and I want you to be naked and on your knees when I come back”

It’s almost pathetic the way Marc is so quickly obeying to those commands, stripping off every piece of clothing he has and sitting on the bed on his knees like he’d been told.

He’s not even embarrassed anymore of how fast Vale gets to him, how much of a hold his words have on his brain and body.

He stays there for maybe a minute when Vale finally comes back to the bedroom, carrying a bag full of things he immediately recognises.

Fuck.

He didn’t think he brought their toys along, afterall it was just a two day trip, but it gets him even more excited than he was before, his bulge starting to get painful.

Vale gets on the bed, still fully clothed, and looks at Marc, looking for any sign of discomfort or doubt, but the only things he finds are lust and need for whatever Vale decides to go for.

“Get your hands behind your back, you’re not gonna be able to touch yourself or me, got it? And since you can’t seem to act good when needed I’m gonna tie them up ok?”

Marc nods, his dick twitching again

“Tell me if it’s ok Marc, I’m not doing anything unless you talk”

“Yes yes Vale please it’s ok”

and Vale smirks, he loves how easily he can get Marc to act all obedient in a bunch of seconds, it gives him confidence, even more than the one he already has.

Vale grabs a set of blue ropes from the bag, they’re not a lot, just enough to secure Marc’s hands together so that they don't move, and positions himself next to Marc, tying his hands together and making sure he’s not going to free himself at any point.

“Remember, it’s red to stop and yellow to slow down, green to go on. If-”

“If I can’t talk it's one tap for ok, two for slowing down and three to stop, I know Vale”

The older man can’t help but smile, he likes this side of their relationship, especially the fact they’ve clear boundaries about it and would never actually hurt each other.

“You’re really pretty like that Marc. It’s only a shame you always have to act like a whore and then I have to make you face consequences isn’t it?”

Marc lets out a soft sound, the mix of praise and degradation successfully getting at him, while Vale moves to be in front of him, unbuttoning his jeans.

“Unzip them for me, yes?” Marc shifts to be eye-level with Vale’s bulge, taking the zip in between his teeth and pulling it down, he can see the lineout of the man’s dick pressing against his boxers, and being the bastard he is he starts to mouth at it through the clothing, gettin Vale even harder.

It doesn’t last long, Vale grabs a handful of hair and pulls so that Marc is looking up at him, his eyes painted a dark blue, an aura of lust surrounding everything.

“Behave” and he lets go, Marc hurriedly taking off his boxers using his teeth again, and taking Vale’s cock an inch at a time.

He’s agonizingly slow at doing it and Vale’s patience has now reached its limit.

He tentatively thrusts his hips up, fucking Marc’s mouth a little.

Marc looks up at him, letting go of his cock to answer the provocation.

“Green” and levels himself once more, opening his mouth.

Vale then grabs Marc’s head and starts fucking his mouth at a regular pace, feeling him gag from time to time and his saliva coating his dick, moaning around it to let the vibrations get to Vale.

He picks up the pace, Marc letting out obscene noises everytime it hits the back of his throat, his hands gripping onto nothing.

His eyes start to water and when he looks up Vale can see tears forming in the corners of his eyes, looking at him with a deep desire written in them.

“You can swallow for me, yes? Put that pretty mouth on silent for once and get it to do what it was made to do”

Marc moans, shivering because the position he’s in lets his cock rub between his thighs and the sheets, and Vale talking to him like that just gets him so excited it’s almost embarrassing.

Vale thrusts a few more times, sloppier than before, breathing harder, and finally comes down Marc’s throat, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Marc is pouting now, looking at Vale with demand, a drop of cum still on the corner of his mouth, shiny and inviting.

He still hasn’t kissed Vale, he wants to, longs for those lips to be pressed against his, but Vale’s mischievous smirk suggests to him that’s not going to happen.

It’s basically psychological torture to him, the impossibility of feeling Vale that way, and Vale fucking knows, knows that for how much he can punish him by edging him to death or overstimulate him until he can’t even remember his name the thing he’s going to miss more is that.

He’s manhandled on his back, a pillow under his hips to make access for Vale easier, who before taking his shirt off goes up to Marc’s ear, biting on his lobe so lightly it’s almost imperceptible “Maybe next time you don’t act like a whore and I’ll let you kiss me, but until then I don’t think you deserve that at all”

Marc whines, but he can’t even get an answer out of himself as he feels his legs being pushed apart and onto Vale’s shoulders, who begins to lick at his thighs and bite down on the muscled flesh, leaving light marks every time he lets go.

But once he’s closer to where Marc needs him most it’s like a switch has been turned on, bites become stronger and also does the grip on his hips, keeping them pressed down against the pillow.

Vale starts biting down and then sucking on the meat of the boy’s thighs, this time leaving more and deeper signs of his presence, causing Marc to whine again, he knows Vale knows he wants more, but he can’t risk demanding and fucking his situation up even more.

“Don’t be impatient, be glad I chose to let you have me at all tonight, I could’ve simply have you suck me off and then leave you there, stay still for once and let me work ok? Don’t worry you’re going to wish you never teased me like that, I’m going to make you cum so much this room will smell like you for days”

Marc barely has time to register the words that Vale has his mouth on him, tongue pushing inside his hole and humming as if he’s tasting a delicious meal.

Marc becomes a moaning mess in a matter of seconds, head thrown on the bed, legs tensing up and his dick leaking an obscene amount of pre cum.

His hands are pressed between his back and the mattress, tied and unable to be freed, it makes him loose his mind because all he wants right now is to touch touch touch every inch of Vale’s body but he fucking can’t.

Vale doesn’t stop, he can feel Marc gettin more and more wet around his tongue and is fucking loving it. He loves reducing the other to this, and knows Marc likes it too, the masquerade of “the one always in control” he presents to the public is completely reversed once he gets to Vale’s bedroom, he gives up control as if it’s a glass of water, and Vale is so thirsty for it.

Marc is only a man after all and if you’ve got Valentino Rossi between your legs working you open with his tongue you can only hope to last enough not to make it embarrassing.

And he really tries to last, but the constant humming coming from the older tips him over the edge, making him moan in his delicious high pitched way, eyes closed and legs closing around Vale’s head as he finds his release, reducing his abs to a mess of sweat and white cum.

But Vale is not a forgiving man, and much less a liar, and he promised Marc the room is going to smell like him after he’s done, and he will honor his words.

He opens Marc’s legs again, fingers grazing his dick, already getting hard again at the slight friction he’s been given.

“Vale” comes out a broken moan, Vale smiles cruelly and keeps on teasing his boy’s dick, not really doing anything to make him feel good.

He then proceeds to lick all around the area where Marc wants him, hands running up and down his legs, feeling the smooth and waxed skin contrasting with his.

It takes him a good few minutes and a string of pleas from Marc to get him to actually take him in his mouth, playing with his head before swallowing him whole, feeling the twitch of the boy’s dick at the stimulation.

He’s quick in his movements, wanting to get Marc to come in the shortest amount of time possible, he has so many ideas on how to treat him after his stunt at the Gala he would need an entire week spent in bed to realize them all.

“Vale Vale I’m close please” Marc doesn’t actually know what he’s asking for, if it’s forgiveness, if it’s more, less, or whatever else it’s out there.

He just knows the only thing currently running in his mind is Valentino’s name, in bright blue letters, and the ghost of his hands wrapped around his neck, getting him light headed and on the edge, the longing for that specific sensation eating him whole, he wants -no, needs- that right now.

His hips move up, choking Vale in the process, but he acts like he doesn’t care, and grabs the lube he tossed in the lustful black box he took the ropes from, coating his hand while still sucking Marc off, and slowly pressing a finger inside, causing him to whine.

It’s not long before a second finger is pressed inside and that’s the breaking point for Marc, his control over sensations tumbling down as he comes for the second time, this one down Vale’s throat, who doesn’t waste time to add a third finger, scissoring them so good Marc is on the verge of crying.

“Oh crying already piccolo? We’ve just begun you know? I told you I’m gonna make sure you get a proper compensation for your actions, maybe this way you won’t act out that much”

Marc feels the punishing pace stopping for a second, horror swallowing him as Vale’s fingers leave him, just to lift his head up and feel them grabbing his hips to turn him onto his stomach, then filling him up again, while the other hand goes to tug at the ropes secured around his hands, making him shift on the bed, his cock getting stimulated once again.

His voice is now a useless tool, soft whispers reaching Vale thanks to a blessing, words spoken so quietly and mixed with moans they are incomprehensible.

“Speak up or I’ll leave you here like this”

“Fuck me Vale please” it all comes in a single breath and vale smirks, he loves gettin his boy to the point of begging to be fucked, always has, but how could someone blame him after all?

He looks so helpless like this, bruises already making their appearance on his thighs and neck, ass practically pushed against him, all red and flustered, tears in his eyes.

“Mh since you’re begging I could think about that” the harshness in his voice feels cutting to Marc, who can’t help but cry a bit, Vale’s fingers now unmoving and not offering him a single bit of pleasure.

“Please please papi I promise you I won’t do it again pl-” he’s cut off by Vale tugging at the ropes around his hands and pulling him up against his chest, the borders of their own bodies dissolving.

“No no piccolo you shouldn’t lie you know that. We both know you’ll do it again because you just can’t help it can you? You need to be a brat and piss me off because you want me to rail you like this. you’ll probably be more of a slut next time, who are you gonna flirt with eh? Pecco? Bezz? You want me to take you apart like this right? you need it”

Vale’s words are met with a loud whine coming from Marc, who’s just so overwhelmed by the fact that Vale is right, he is going to act more like that just to gain this, he knows what buttons to push, he wants to know how far he can go.

“I swear you like calling me papi more than I like hearing you say it, you’re just made like this eh? Made for me”

If Marc could ascend to heaven right now he doesn’t think it would feel better than hearing those words because yes yes yes Vale is right again, he wants Vale to take control and loves to see how his expression changes when he calls him papi to tease him.

And on top of all Vale saying he’s made for him…oh God he could cum from that alone.

He feels some shuffling going on behind him and before he can make out what they are a soft but dark fabric is put on his eyes, impeding him from seeing anything.

“You look really good blindfolded you know? Should do that more often” and Marc would be extremely ok with it.

He’s hyper sensitive once he’s like that, all of his other senses stepping up and multiplying their sensitivity, reducing him to a pretty doll for Vale to play with.

“papi” he barely manages to say it he can already hear the cap of the lube bottle being flipped open and the liquid pouring from it.

Vale lets go of the restraints slowly, flipping Marc so that he’s facing him, even if he can’t see his eyes he knows they're full of lust for him.

He repeats the plea, more demanding this time, and Vale manhandles him onto his lap like he weighs nothing.

It always amazed Marc how Vale, despite being way thinner and lighter than him, could just move him around like that.

“You either shut up and use that mouth to let me hear how desperate I can make you or I’ll have to gag you mh? and we know you like to be loud, so I would stick to begging if I was you”

God if this was what he was getting for acting like that he’ll do it every moment of his life.

Marc tries to reply, but in that moment he feels Vale’s hands lifting him up and one of them guiding him on his dick, sinking him down on it so fucking slowly it should be labeled as torture.

Marc whimpers, and Vale can’t help but smile at it because how can he not when he has perfection between his hands?

He thrusts his hips up, gaining a muffled sound from Marc, who’s biting his lip trying to keep a bit of dignity.

Vale starts moving with a steady pace, holding MArc’s hips in his hands and running his fingers around them, just because he knows how sensitive Marc gets once he’s blindfolded, and wants to break him. He deserves it after all. And he knows Marc enjoys it, both the teasing and the punishment part.

“God please I want to kiss you, please just once, please Vale” he sounds desperate, and he is, he dreads for Vale’s lips on his, he feels like he can’t survive without them.

“If you cum again while riding me I’ll let you kiss me, what do you say mh?”

“Yes yes I’ll do it just promise me”

Even through the blindfold Vale knows tears are forming in Marc’s eyes, and if it wasn’t for the oversensitiveness he would’ve already removed it.

“Then come on Marc, give me a show”

And Marc is eager, he wants those lips on his at all costs, so he adjusts himself to be a little bit more comfortable and starts bouncing on Vale’s dick with a regular pace, but with no support other than his legs and Vale not helping it’s fucking difficult.

He tries so hard to do it on his own but after a little he feels his thighs giving out, soft pleas escaping his mouth.

“Want me to help you, bimbo? What is it you can’t cum on your own?”

Marc cries, he needs it so fucking bad and needs Vale to take him apart right now to feel their mouths against one another.

“Didn’t hear you tesoro, what did you say?” Vale is a dickhead and Marc knows it, he’s just as hungry for this as Marc, but he has control of it, he’s the one guiding this whole thing.

“Please help me I need you papi” he goes all in, tries to sum up begging and submission and Vale’s really fucking strong daddy kink to get him to do something and it works.

Vale grips on his hips and starts moving them up and down, meeting his thrusts, Marc just becoming a babbling mess, useless words coming out of his mouth without a string of coherent thought.

“You feel so good fuck, nobody can have you like this eh? Just me fuck” Vale is groaning and biting at Marc’s collarbone not to be too loud but he’s just as on edge as Marc, going crazy for how putty the boy now results in his hands, practically moldable to his will.

“You liked being a slut earlier? Do you think Dovizioso could make you feel like this? Or anyone else? Would you beg for their cock inside you like a pathetic whore?”

it’s so much, it’s so much teasing for poor Marc, he’s wetting the blindfold with tears, he can’t even answer without sobbing from overstimulation.

“No Vale only you -god- only you can fuck me this good no others, I only want you I swear I am good”

It’s so empowering for Vale, he feeds himself on it, it’s like oxygen to his brain.

Vale doesn’t want to lose the possibility of seeing Marc’s face when he cums, so he slowly moves one of his hands up to his head and unties the fabric, Marc blinks a few times to get adjusted and then directs his gaze towards Vale

Marc’s dick stands hard between their bodies, sliding up and down Vale’s abs, precum smeared all over them.

He has tears in his eyes, so beautiful and lost, glossy and big, begging Vale for something, anything.

“Come on Marc cum for me, I want to see you while you do, you look so good” Marc whines again, more tears rolling down his cheeks as he tries to match Vale’s thrusts, then he finally cums, a lot,, all over Vale and himself, a loud moan interrupted by Vale’s lips on his, fucking finally, Vale is hungry for the kiss too, he bites at the boy’s lips, grabs the back of his neck with one hand while the other goes for his dick, pumping out the last drops of cum he still has in him.

Then he orgasms too, buried so deep inside Marc he loses contact with reality, filling him up so good Marc whimpers again, lips not leaving Vale’s.

It’s a mess of tongue and teeth and it feels so good he doesn’t want to let go.

It's the older one who breaks the kiss first, Marc trying to chase him.

“Fuck wish I could breed you, that way no one would get close to you right? I’d brand you with myself inside you”

And Marc is almost fainting because what the fuck he didn’t even know Vale could talk like that, not that much, but he loves it, he thinks about Vale making him his forever, and there’s nothing he’d want more than that.

Vale slides out of Marc gently, a huge contraposition from what he had been doing up until now.

And this is the good part, knowing that even during these moments Vale loves him and cares for him, getting up to go grab a water bottle and a snack, alongside a washcloth from the bathroom.

He slowly unties the ropes holding Marc’s wrists together, which are red and have deep signs on them and Vale worries for a moment.

“i told you if it hurted to tell me, this signs shouldn’t be this deep amore” he sounds genuinely worried, massaging his lover’s wrists with fondness and making sure he is ok

“They didn’t hurt too much, they were just a bit too tight, but I promise I wasn’t hurting Vale”

Vale doesn’t believe him, first because even if he didn’t feel his wrists hurting they most certainly were, given the high pain tolerance Marc has and the general disregard for what happens to his body, and secondly because he knows Marc wants to please him, and telling him it hurted would’ve made Vale feel bad.

“Let me get some massage oil, you're not sleeping until I see those marks getting better ok?”

Marc wants to answer but Vale’s words are more of an affirmation rather than a question, so he stays on the bed, waiting for the other to come back with all he needs.

“Thank you” it’s a whisper, and Vale barely catches it, but it makes him smile, how Marc still trusts him even after all he did.

Maybe that’s why he’s so soft now, he knows he’s hurt Marc in the past, a lot, and he wants him to know he’s never going to do that again.

He massages the boy’s wrists for a good ten minutes, until he can see the other drifting to sleep, giving him a pair of clean boxers and making sure he at least drinks some water.

Marc’s eyes are heavy with sleep, and Vale is not doing any better, but he wants to make sure the other falls asleep first, just to indulge on his beautiful face a bit more.

“Buonanotte amore”

“Notte”

Marc finally falls asleep, nestled in Vale’s chest, his face in the crook of the man’s neck.

Vale has a soft smile painted on his face while he strokes Marc’s hair, his eyes tracing every feature of his boy, asking himself how he got so lucky to have a second chance at life shaped like him.

“Giuro che ti sposo” he whispers before falling asleep as well, his thoughts drifting to the velvet box stored in his bedside table in Tavullia, a bright diamond ring shining inside it.

The promise of a lifetime together.

#rosquez #mentioned! dovquez #valentino rossi #marc marquez #andrea dovizioso #motogp rpf #motogp fic #alice writes #my fic <3 #motogp smut

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