#i blast them with the domestication beam!!!!

[raepliica]

i think they should take turns cuddling for healing purposes

#trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #mashwood #merylvash #vashwood #merylwood #polygun if i dare say #trigun fanart #raepliica_art #i blast them with the domestication beam!!!! #they need to stick two beds together bc fluff bird vash takes up too much space #meryl so small she gets lost in the feathers #they would fight for their turn at cuddling the feathered otherworldly creature #and they'd just sit around waiting for milly to come back from her work trip like dogs waiting at the door #excuse the lack of plot; i didnt plan anything beyond page 2🧍 #got possessed with wanting to draw mashwood again #and then merylwood specifically

[bambheez]

tonight is for the two of us (l.hs)

SUMMARY: two lonely people who find comfort in each other’s presence for one night. PAIRING: heeseung x reader GENRE: angst, smut WARNINGS: mentions of character death, grief, depression, insomnia, child and domestic abuse, alcoholism, profanity, light smut WORD COUNT: 5.8k A/N: the way this entire thing screams verbosity but that’s just my style so pls forgive me lol… obviously this is different from what I’ve posted so far in that there’s actual plot and it’s somewhat dark (so please read the long ass list of warnings before you proceed). you can also listen to the PLAYLIST for this story (I am in love with all of these songs)! as always, reblogs/comments/feedback are especially appreciated! :)

Your clammy hands were gripping the steering wheel to the point where your dashboard lights illuminated the whites of your knuckles. As you made your way up the windy roads to the lookout point, void of any streetlamps and relying on your high beams on blast, you were silently thankful for the lack of cars trailing behind you or driving toward you in the opposite direction.

Had you done your research beforehand instead of simply plugging the address into your phone, perhaps you wouldn’t have embarked on this hour-long journey to go stargazing with your colleagues. You suggested carpooling to no avail, having to face your absurd fear of driving not only at night but also on sketchy, unfamiliar roads. 

A slight crane of your neck to the right brought you a view of the city’s skyline in the distance, a hazy glow amidst a sea of black, and you wished you could teleport back to the comfort of the bright, bustling city. The mere thought of having to drive back down this same path later had you letting out a deep groan. 

A sudden interjection of your phone’s navigation app announcing that you were arriving at your destination in 100 feet caused you to whip your head back in focus, scanning the parking lot as you approached the top of the mountain. 

Your car was the only one in the vicinity, save for a camper van with none of its lights on, looking particularly worn-down and deserted. You parked in a random empty spot, unplugging your phone from its charging port before stepping out into the brisk air. Spotting a bench near the lookout point, you took long strides up across the parking lot and up the hill, plopping down to sit and fishing your phone out of your pocket to check your notifications.

You were surprised to find an empty home screen, expecting a “sorry, we’ll be a few minutes late” in your group chat seeing as it was over ten minutes past the time you were meant to arrive. You dialed the number of the coworker who invited you and you heard her voice come onto the line after three long rings.

“Hey! What’s up?” she was nearly screaming over sounds of at least a dozen other people talking.

“What’s your ETA?” you were muttering, already having a bad feeling of what she was about to say.

“H-huh? Oh, it’s supposed to rain tonight, so we canceled! Sorry, I thought we told y–” you were tearing the phone away from the side of your face and hanging up before she could finish her sentence. 

A miserable chuckle escaped your mouth as you took note of the thick clouds hanging over the sky and brought your feet up on the bench, hugging your knees and resting your back against the wood. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else. 

You thought perhaps moving across the country to a big city would put an end to the dread of a thousand tomorrows, none of them promising any semblance of change, but the truth was you never felt more alone than when you were standing in the midst of a busy crowd surrounded by towering skyscrapers and blinding lights—a single drop in the ocean.

There was no way to describe it other than a vice on your heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant, dull ache. A black hole that threatened to swallow every part of you until all that was left was a human shaped shell, too numb to feel the pain anymore.

There were nights you unwillingly let it control you, and all you could do in those long hours was find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subsided. The vast, open darkness in front of you made you wonder just how many people were out there feeling the same way you did. 

Some old acquaintances had promised to stay in touch, yet what you heard from them was comparable to radio silence, their smiles and efforts merely pixelated and small yellow faces that stopped coming whenever your world fell apart—which was often.

Trudging to get past each day made you realize just how much of your world had revolved around one person—one last connection with a life that used to be. You couldn’t tell her when your local tea shop came out with her favorite lychee drink, when you listened to a song that reminded you of her, how you saw someone on the subway reading a book she had recommended you, or how you overheard a couple arguing over the proper way to load a dishwasher, the very thing you had repeatedly bickered about as college roommates. 

And now that she was no longer in this life, you were constantly questioning your purpose, even occasionally wondering if you were meant to be alone. Was this what the universe had planned for you? You weren’t sure you believed in multiple soulmates, so what happened when yours left you?

If you miss me, just look at the stars. She would always sign the text with a ‘;)’ at the end and you would mock her with a scoff, replying with or I could just call you, dumbass. 

Without realizing, you were already bringing up your history of text messages with her, scrolling through the endless one-sided green texts, each decorated with a delivery error message. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard while the pulsing blue line stared back at you.

“Where are you?” you were wailing out, wincing subsequently at the unexpected echo and crack in your voice. The thundering in the distance seemed to answer you, but you wished the stars were out so that you’d at least know she was watching over you. You couldn’t help but feel that the cloudy skies meant she couldn’t see you, or worse, look out for you. A droplet landed on your cheek and your eyelids fluttered shut at the feeling. You weren’t sure if they were your tears or hers.

It was the end of the week and you somehow found yourself making your way up the mountainous roads again, remembering coming home last time with extraordinary peace of mind despite the frazzled state you arrived in. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was pushing you to get out of the city once again. 

The air was noticeably cooler than it had been last week, and you were scanning your backseat for any signs of a sweater, sighing inwardly when you found none. It was warm when you left your office earlier in the evening and you mentally cursed at yourself for not checking the weather yet again. 

You contemplated staying in the car with the heat on, but a glimpse of your glowing fuel light had you rolling your eyes in disappointment for being so forgetful and inattentive on top of the countless other flaws you felt you carried. 

You were making your way toward the empty bench again, spotting the camper van in the same parking spot. You assumed it hadn’t moved since the last time you were here, most likely having been abandoned. There were considerably fewer clouds in the sky today and you beamed at the view of the small specks of white splattered against the darkness.

“Give me a sign that it’ll all be okay, please,” you spoke while eyeing the stars above you, some brighter than others. Your hair flew in the wind, draping across your face as goosebumps formed on your arms as you prepared to let the rest of your thoughts out. You didn’t remember closing your eyes, but the sound of footsteps approaching had you instinctively opening them and straightening your back and you suddenly felt a weight on your shoulders, gasping to find someone draping their flannel jacket over you.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he spoke against the wind. “You seemed cold.” A boy, now in a plain black shirt, was making his way around the other side of the bench to sit down next to you. He left considerable space between the two of you, which you were silently thankful for. 

You spun around to see where he had parked, not having noticed another car arrive and when you saw nothing but your own car and the camper van, you felt a chill run down your spine. Alarm bells should’ve been going off in your head, but you were seemingly more concerned with the fact that he had most likely seen you in your most vulnerable state, crying out into the open void like a lunatic, not only once, but twice now.

When he felt you staring, he turned his head only to briefly make eye contact with you before glancing back down at his lap. His skin was a pretty shade of olive, the tip of his nose illuminated by the hazy moonlight. You took in the rest of his appearance—worn sneakers with one of the laces untied, ripped jeans, and shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and you found yourself resisting the urge to run your fingers through his locks.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he was asking, picking his head up once more to look at you.

You weren’t so sure yourself. Maybe it was the fact that this was the only place where you didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to her, to yourself, or to the universe in general; you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry or sit in complete silence. All you knew was that after a particularly bad day at work, you were taking the exit off the highway without thinking, almost as if you had taken this same exit a hundred times before.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckled. There was an awkward pause, and you were realizing that he wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m here to u-uh, stargaze.” You were telling the truth, at least partially. 

“Stargazing’s not the best here, with the light pollution and all,” he replied. You hummed, unsure how to respond. He noticed your hesitation and was rubbing his palms against the black denim of his jeans before clearing his throat. 

“‘m Heeseung, by the way.” At first, Heeseung found himself slightly annoyed at the fact that you had disrupted his peace and not-so-secret hideout spot, observing you from his van while you mumbled to yourself on the bench. 

“I travel in my van, but ‘m running low on money.” He was rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed to admit the fact. “The parking here’s free, so…” he trailed off, regretting it immediately after stating the obvious. 

As he got a better look at your face up close, he saw that a small frown seemed semi-permanently etched on your face, which he could tell you were hopelessly attempting to correct as he studied you. A wave of guilt washed over him upon registration of his untimely intrusion, realizing that you would probably prefer to be alone right now due to the blatant evidence that you were pretending to look less dejected in front of him. 

You were briefly introducing yourself as someone new to the city, not knowing what else was interesting about you and accidentally slipping in the fact that you ‘didn’t really have any friends’, teeth chattering slightly even with his jacket resting over your frame. 

“Did you want to sit in my van instead?” Your frown was faltering when your lips parted in surprise at his request. He contemplated adding a lighthearted comment about not being a serial killer to reassure you, but you were already trailing behind him as he stood up. You could tell he was tall when his legs were stretched out next to yours while sat next on the bench, but he was even taller than you’d imagined when he was standing up, even with a slight hunch in his posture. 

Heeseung peered over his shoulder to catch you struggling to keep up with his longer strides, still clutching onto the collar of his jacket over your right shoulder and he let a soft smile adorn his face as he slowed his pace to match yours. He was rounding the front of his van to open the passenger side door for you but you were already cutting in front of him, hopping up on the door sill clumsily.

You let yourself into the passenger side, holding the jacket out to Heeseung who was still staring at you through the driver side window. He opened the door and pulled himself into the seat, reluctantly taking the jacket from you and tossing it on some unknown surface of the van behind him. 

He turned on the ceiling light of his van and began blasting the heat after noticing that you were sitting on the backs of your hands. His fingers were fiddling with the knobs on the CD player to turn on soft, lullaby-like piano music and you made a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. For some reason, you expected him to be into rock music and found the unexpected contrast endearing. 

Heeseung shot you a confused look at the sound and you simply shook your head and waved it off, a small smile still playing on your lips. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the first time that night, you were taking a closer look at his features. Underneath his bangs were eyes that carried both fervor and innocence and lips that were held in a constant, soft pout. He was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darting around the space in front of him at the feeling of you staring at him so intently. He shook his head so that his bangs were falling over his eyes again in one swift movement before thinking of something to say to take your attention off his face.

“I dropped out of college when I was 18,” he was muttering, trying to gauge your reaction from his peripheral view before continuing. “And then I ran away from home to travel.” He was leaving out key details like the fact that he didn’t necessarily run away from home with the goal of traveling but instead began traveling because he simply had nowhere else to go. 

When he came home after his first semester with an official diagnosis from his university’s health center, his family refused to let him seek therapy or any other form of help. With a father who was never home and a mother who went as far as threatening to disown him if he didn’t return to school the following semester, Heeseung wasn’t left with much of a choice. 

You were surprised that he was even sharing this much with you. Your heart tightened at the thought of him being alone in the world at such a young age and his lack of a support system, seemingly more alone than you were. He was considerably better than you at concealing his loneliness and you hated that fact, not because you wanted to be better at it but because you knew just how much effort it took. 

Heeseung could barely remember what it was like to have his father around, the only seemingly harmonious moments spent with him before he started grade school fleeting and long forgotten. The bulk of his adolescence was spent resenting his father for the way he treated his mother, where his father would appear through the front door every few months or so in one of his drunken episodes, an empty bottle of liquor already in hand.

He almost always knew when it was happening, the rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for alcohol reverberating through the house and to his room. He couldn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t stop restocking the house with it or why she wouldn’t change the locks or take his father’s keys or even file for a divorce, and he couldn’t help but despise her weakness and inability to stop pitying her husband.

“Look who decided to finally show up for his mother,” the older man seethed, breath reeking from the drunken stench.

A particularly loud argument had Heeseung flying down the stairs, the sound of a glass bottle breaking causing his mother to let a scream out of her mouth. He took in his father’s appearance, unshaven and eyes bloodshot with a lazy smirk playing on his lips. A look off to the side at his mother with tears streaming down her cheeks was suddenly leading to punches being thrown and knuckles growing bloodied. A harsh shove from his father caused him to lose his balance and tumble onto the wooden floor.

“Maybe ask yourself why you’re defending a fucking cheater instead,” his voice boomed through the living room. A puzzled expression took over Heeseung’s face as he turned toward his mother who winced both at the sound of her husband slamming the door as he left and the way her son ran his tongue over his busted lip, eyes beginning to gloss over.

After finally grasping the fact that his mother was not the person she made herself out to be and what pushed his father over the edge over ten years ago, Heeseung, who had always stuck close to her growing up, attempting to make up for the lack of his father’s presence, began growing increasingly distant from her as he finished his final years of high school. The very thing he swore he wouldn’t touch in his life was the only thing he took with him and stashed in his van the night he left.

He was wrapping his hand around the nearly empty beer can in his cup holder from the thought of his childhood memories and shooting a pained expression your way at the paled look on your face, eyes pooling with concern and he tried to perceive it as anything but pity.

“I honestly don’t mind it much,” he was saying, but an unfamiliar look was flashing across his eyes and even though you barely knew him, you felt like you could see right through him.

He was redirecting his gaze out the windshield. He had used the North Star almost as a source of direction in his travels for the past few years, as cliche as it sounded. Tonight was the first night it was visible in the two weeks he had been parked here, deciding to camp out in the deserted park until it reappeared and he had saved enough money from his part-time job in the city. 

The North Star appeared noticeably brighter tonight, a beacon in the middle of the night shrouded in shadows and Heeseung was suddenly wondering whether it was a coincidence that you were here with him at this very moment, whether you were the very person who hung the North Star for him in the night sky, guiding him toward a purposeful destination, or whether you were the destination itself. He was shaking his head at the intrusive thought as you followed his line of sight.

The heat blowing throughout the van was fogging up the windows and blocking up your view of what he seemed to be focusing his gaze on. Heeseung watched as you turned in your seat, moving your body to face the passenger window with one leg folded up on the cushion. You were bringing your fingers up to touch the glass, slowly drawing a heart with your index finger and peering through the clear traces at the sky.

Heeseung, nowhere near intoxicated from his built up tolerance over the years, took one last sip of his drink, still not taking his eyes away from your side profile and subtle movements as you immersed yourself in your own world for the second time that night. He was turning to his own window to mirror your actions, outlining a much sloppier heart on the glass. By the time he finished and spun around to face you, you were already watching him with a beam, the apples of your cheeks rosy. 

You were suddenly bursting into laughter, your brain on autopilot as you leaned over the center console to fix his drawing. You were practically pushed up against him with your hand resting on his thigh as you drew over his sketch on the window, adding a dozen more hearts around the first and filling up the rest of the fogged glass with your doodles. Heeseung was noticeably stiffening under you, attempting to distract himself from his quickening heart rate by picking at the fraying of his jeans on the leg you weren’t perched on.

You leaned back to admire your silly artwork for a few seconds before glancing over at him and noticing Heeseung’s eyelashes fluttering delicately, still reeling from the sudden physical contact. Upon noticing the close proximity, you were removing your hand from his lap and bringing it back into your own, leaning into the seat again and you could feel the heat evident on your face, knowing it must’ve been even more apparent to him. He was no better at concealing his own expressions as his sheepish smile faltered, feeling abnormally disappointed in the sudden loss of contact.

Still in a daze, Heeseung was reaching behind him to grab a can of beer, holding it out in front of you while his eyes were trained on the single heart drawn on the passenger side window. He held back a grimace as he realized that he’d done so without thinking, hoping you hadn’t caught on to his dependency. You accepted his offer without hesitation, wiping the rim of the opening with the bottom of your shirt and popping open the tab, taking gulps at a much faster speed than you were normally used to.

Your head was still spinning with the thought and feeling of the burn of your fingertips against his thigh. You both drifted into a comfortable silence, the music no longer playing since the CD player in his rundown van didn’t have the ability to auto loop tracks or albums and the hammering of his heart against his chest seemed almost too loud for you not to notice. Heeseung thought about taking out the disk and replacing it but decided against it, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the air around you. 

Your lips formed a small frown as you saw clouds beginning to shape. You thought it was the alcohol deceiving you, but you blinked a few times and the clouds were still there. 

“I hate the rain because it means I can’t see her. It makes me think that she’s crying,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence. You could feel his gaze fall to you as he fell out of his trance, but he didn’t ask who, just simply nodded. 

His reaction made you freeze in your spot, realizing you had most definitely overshared beyond an imaginary boundary. You almost wanted to apologize for it before you were saying the next thing that came to your mind. 

“Have you ever fallen in love?” you were abruptly blurting out.

He was quirking his brow in amusement. “Come on, I can barely fall asleep,” he laughed softly but not without a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. You had assumed it was a joke, but the sincerity in the way he observed you told you it wasn’t. Your eyes widened before you were nodding softly and returning a weak smile, taken aback by his confession.

“Don’t worry about it,” he was brushing it off. “You?”

You were staring out the windshield again for a few moments, lost in your thoughts before responding, “A lot of unrequited love, if that counts.”

You began to explain how you had never been in a relationship, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was seemingly out of your control. You presumed that the time you spent on this earth loving romantically without any reciprocation had somehow altered your brain chemistry to truly believe that you were meant to be alone from the very beginning, and you were often wondering which would hurt more, to have had true love and lost it or to never have had it at all. Dwelling over the fact that you had already experienced some form of both made your situation seem all the more ridiculous.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you were flighty in your thoughts, jumping to one without finishing the other. As a result of the accumulation of thoughts you created when you were alone, all the things you would talk to yourself about came spilling out. 

Your mind went on talking even when you were alone. And when you ran out of storage, the thoughts needed to come out somehow. Partly due to your insecurities you hoped that by talking more, you’d be accepted and loved by someone—it hadn’t proved itself to be a successful method in the past and you weren’t sure it ever would be.

“I give, and give, and give. That’s all I do,” you continued, your voice now uneven and trembling slightly. “I give until I have nothing left. I’m terrified of the love I have because I know it will ruin me—it already has, and I know I will continue to let it.”

You were heaving out a sigh of relief at the massive weight being lifted off your chest, still feeling a sort of emptiness but a strangely pleasant lightness associated with it. Even then, you were perplexed by your own eagerness to share your entire life story to someone you met just hours ago, partially blaming the alcohol for how unfiltered you became and you couldn’t tell what Heeseung was thinking from the stoic look on his face and his big doe eyes blinking back at you.

It most definitely wasn’t a feeling of pity, that he knew. It felt almost like a weakness in the heart—like his heart wasn’t working properly—a fleeting lightness that passed through him, being simultaneously lulled to sleep by a single gesture and set on fire by your every touch. 

Your eyes were glossed over, from your lengthy outpour or intoxicated state Heeseung wasn’t certain, but he held not a single ounce of doubt of the amount of love you held. Unsure of what came over him, he was resisting the urge to lean over and cup the sides of your face and tell you that even in his broken, wretched state, he was willing to accept anything you had to give and return everything and more.

“It’s really late. I can drive you home,” he was offering. He convinced you he was sobering up with a lazy smile plastered on his face, yet you couldn’t help raising your brows at the slight flush of his cheeks and numerous empty beer cans in the cup holder.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” you were speaking nonchalantly before turning to look at him with what Heeseung thought he saw were literal stars in your otherwise cloudy eyes. At the implication of your words, he could feel and hear his heart beating at a pace so fast it rang through his ears. As much of an open book as you were, he didn’t expect that from you and you even stunned yourself as the words left you, mouth now agape as you stared back at him. 

You wanted to blame your lack of sobriety yet again but you knew that the flood of emotions had put your mind in a remarkable state of clarity. His calmness—how he listened and watched attentively without any questions, just simply looking at you with a fondness in his eyes—fastened you with a sense of immense trust in him.

Thankfully, he was quickly nodding and turning around to turn on the lights that lit up the rest of his van. In contrast to his somewhat rugged appearance, his space was neat and cozy and it amazed you how few belongings he had; everything fit in his van and there was almost no clutter. The only hint of personality and life you could find was the guitar hanging over the bed, and you were smiling to yourself knowing he at least had music to accompany him. 

Heeseung had suggested cooking some ramen for you, but you simply shook your head with a sleepy smile and told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t say anything as he clambered on top of his sheets and patted the spot next to him. There wasn’t much space in the van for anything other than a bed and a small stovetop and you were skeptical there would be enough room for you to both lay comfortably. 

You fit yourself on the mattress between him and the back door while he crawled under the covers, pushing his pillow toward you behind your back and grabbing an extra one from beneath the bed for himself. You were still sat leaning against the side of the van as you contemplated your next move, wondering whether you should prioritize comfort or decency and you squirmed at the thought of your dirty jeans on someone else’s sheets.

A brief glance at Heeseung, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed and hands resting over his stomach, had you quickly tucking yourself under the blankets and unzipping your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them over your ankles. You were shuffling downward and placing the now folded jeans beside your pillow, facing away from Heeseung as you pulled the covers up to your chest.

You couldn’t tell but Heeseung had visibly stiffened, eyebrows now slightly furrowed in concentration as he attempted to fall asleep, willing himself to think about anything other than you and your presence inches away from him. He was staring at the ceiling, breath uneven at how you were so similar in the way you craved connection yet different in the sources of your troubles and the way you coped—one capable of giving anything and one who didn’t know how to give at all. 

You felt the bed dip and you could hear Heeseung shuffling around behind you, his heavy breathing against your neck telling you he was now facing you, and still lying on your side when you felt his fingers graze across your hip bone. 

The heat radiating off his body behind you was seeping into your own skin, slowly building into a burn before you were flipping yourself over to face him and immediately thrown off by just how close he was. A slight lean forward from either of you would close the gap, and your eyes were unconsciously flickering down to his lips at the thought.

You were pulling yourself flush against him, savoring the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together, resting your head in the crook of his neck and he let out a sharp gasp from above you. You could feel his heart beating underneath your palms as you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest. A slight crane of your neck and you were tentatively placing your lips against his jaw, a shaky breath of Heeseung’s fanning your face from the action.

As your kisses moved from his jaw down to his neck, his mouth was parting softly, lifting his head into the pillow to provide you with more access. One particularly harsh suck against his collarbone had him surging forward for more, latching onto the hem of your shirt and fingers hesitantly grazing the waistband of your underwear. 

Heeseung was then leaning forward onto his elbows, the hand that was previously slotted between your bodies wrapping around your shoulder to pull you up and level to him, bringing you into a gentle kiss that caused the hairs on your arms to raise.

It overwhelmed you how thrilling yet calming it felt to be kissing him. You were completely drinking him in, the touch of his skin against yours heating up the pits of your stomach and causing shivers to wrack through you and simultaneously taking your mind off of everything else.

He was gentle with his touch, but his lips were rough and chapped and he was kissing you with so much longing and desperation that for a second, you contemplated whether this was his first time kissing someone, craving any and every bit of physical contact. You quickly dismissed the thought as he took advantage of your inattentiveness with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth skillfully.

Your stomach churned and you were writhing under his touch from the way your tongues intertwined, a pit of heat rising in your lower stomach. Heeseung was letting out a choked whimper at the feeling of your hands reaching underneath his shirt, smoothing over the skin of his stomach. 

“You okay?” you were whispering as you pulled back, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He held your gaze for a few seconds, both delicacy and sharpness etched in his features, before his lashes fluttered and he was shaking his head, burying it in your neck. Your hands were sliding along his scalp to soothingly stroke his hair, heart aching at the vulnerability and rawness with which he looked at you. 

It wasn’t clear whether the cause of his feverish state was from the simple presence of you in his arms, but something told you that you should’ve seen it coming when the way he looked at you gradually began changing as the hours progressed.

You were pulling back and placing one last, soft kiss against his lips, lingering for a few moments too long before wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight embrace and rubbing his back gingerly. 

Heeseung was redirecting his attention out at the sky through the back window, foolishly looking for you and him in the stars. Some stars gradually dim and lose their luster, and on a rainy night, you might never see them again. 

You weren’t thinking about what would happen when the stars faded and the sun rose, or when you would see him again—you didn’t need to see him or be physically near him to feel him. Your subconscious was finding comfort simply from the feeling of his chest pressed against yours, your thumb rubbing circles over his shirt while you listened to Heeseung's soft breathing and the sound of the rain beginning to fall against the windows.

A/N: the bolded quote is based on something I saw on twitter: “I’m scared of the love I have for you. Because I know it will ruin me. And I also know that I will let it. I love hard.” but I couldn’t find the source, so credits to the original owner.

#enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagine #heeseung scenario #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenario #enhypen heeseung #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung imagine

[theendless22]

Domestic Bliss

Summary: You’re overcome with emotions as you spend a normal Saturday with the Schmidt’s.

Pairings: GN!Reader x Mike Schmidt.

Warnings: Pure fluff, Abby being a stroppy child, slight swearing (literally 1 word), and implications of sex.

My Masterlist

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

You wake up to cold sheets, your hand trailing across the deserted space beside you as you groan. You glance over to the alarm clock situated on his nightstand. It’s 10:32am on a Saturday, and you’ve overslept. Fuck.

You scramble out of bed, hissing as the sun-blasted sky beams through Mike’s curtains, stunning you momentarily. Mike’s room isn’t necessarily messy, you’re thankful for that, but you can’t say you’ll grow to appreciate the piles of clean and dirty clothes on his floor. It makes his room feel cramped, like you’re constantly playing the floor is lava just to get to your side of the bed. You remind yourself to tell him to clean it up later. But for now, you throw on one of his t-shirts, identifying it as one of your favourites, sage green with a discoloured band title on the back. You make your way to the bedroom door, yawning loudly as you open it, embracing another day with the Schmidt’s.

Your feet patter on the hardwood floor as you make your way down the hallway, soft chattering echoing through the walls until you enter the living room. You weren’t expecting the sight you were graced with but you’re not complaining.

Abby is laid on the couch, head in mikes lap as she tiredly watches Scooby Doo, her eyes fluttering softly as she seemingly fights to stay awake. Mike’s wide brown eyes flicker between the tv and Abby as they speak quietly to each other, you struggle to make out any words. His left hand is tangled in Abby’s hair, delicately combating small knots with his fingers, the other hand caressing her cheek. You smile softly, walking over to join them on the couch.

“Morning Y/N…” Abby whispers, shifting to sit up, she crawls next to you, her soft hands clinging to your shirt as she pulls you in for a hug.

“Hey Abby.” You whisper, kissing the top of her head as you return the hug, rubbing her small back and stroking her hair. You giggle quietly as she manoeuvres to lay on your lap, head face down on your stomach as she consumes herself in your touch. You wonder how she can even breathe with how buried she is in your shirt. “Someone’s tired this morning, huh?” You coo, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears.

“She’s not the only one.” Mike teases, the raspiness of his morning voice sending shivers down your spine as he leans closer to you, chapped lips planting on your cheek. “It’s not my fault I overslept. Someone kept me up all night.” You whisper in his ear, winking at him knowingly. His red cheeks evidence enough that he’s flustered, but he averts his gaze from you too.

There’s a comforting silence between you three, the only sound is the soft hum of the tv.

“Your hair’s really knotty this morning Abs.” You say, patting her back gently. She sits up, nods at you, then jumps off the couch, running down the hallway. Where is she going? Probably to draw like usual, right? Your eyebrows furrow in bewilderedness, how can a 9 year old run that fast when they’re so tired? You’re so immersed in your own thoughts and questions that you’re taken aback when Mike gently grips your chin, thumb caressing your jaw as he tilts your head to the side, pressing his lips against yours. You whimper pathetically into the kiss, hand in his unruly hair, the other on his chest, pushing him downwards, you crawl up to sit between his thighs.

Just as Mike incorporates his tongue, you hear a loud gag. Both of your heads whip to see Abby, holding a sparkly pink hairbrush and some bobbles. “Gross.” She shakes her head disappointingly at you two, sitting on the floor with her back facing you. You and Mike glance at each other, an amused smile on his lips, contrasting to the embarrassed pout on yours. He wraps his hands around your waist, using it as leverage to prop you up in his arms. He slowly rubs your waist on top of your shirt, tracing gentle patterns with his thumb, eliciting a small sigh from you.

Abby turns around to face you, dropping the hair brush and bobbles into your lap as she looks at you expectingly. Mike raises a brow at her and then chuckles.

“Not even a please?”

She glares at him.

With a huff she mumbles a quick “please” and turns back around. It’s your turn to chuckle this time, grabbing the hairbrush and starting to comb her hair. You’re careful not to hurt her as the brush glides down her scalp, untangling the never ending knots.

You stay like this for a while, combing her hair long after the knots have been removed, Abby doesn’t seem to mind. Nor does Mike. His large hand continuing to caress your skin, squeezing your bare thigh as he watches the tv with disinterest.

You can’t help the smile on your lips, you think you can get used to this. You’re content with the happy little bubble you and the Schmidt’s have created, the Saturday mornings you spend with them slowly warping into your favourite part of the week. It reminds you to be even more thankful for your relationship with Mike, because his comfort and trust in you allowed you to give the same feeling to her. A stray tear rolls down your cheek when you think about it, the rest of the morning you spend thinking about it, how lucky you are, how grateful you are.

And after, when you’re laid in bed with him at night, bare legs intertwined as you listen to the soft thud of his heartbeat. You can’t help but indulge in the idea of it all lasting forever. You fall asleep with a small smile painted on your swollen lips.

You pray for the long live of your shared domestic bliss.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

#josh hutcherson #mike fnaf #mike schmidt #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf mike #micheal afton #michael schmidt #micheal schmidt #abby schmidt #abby fnaf #fnaf abby #fnaf movie

[cloudninetonine]

Could I make a soft request of simple domestic moments with the chain? 👀

It could honestly be anything honest to god. This was all triggered by me finding a POV Video of your comfort character taking the last slice of bread from you bc they had the butter HAHAHA

I think the boys need some major TLC and what better way to give it to them other than domestic moments, right?

I hope you liked this <3 I wasn't entirely sure what to do but I was listening to some oldies but goldies and it came to me

You liked Lon Lon Ranch, a break from the hiking life and a time to relax without a care in the world.

Well, you got the luxury of relaxing. The others weren’t so lucky, not that you weren’t willing to help around the ranch or barn, but Malon had decided it was the best chance to get to know you, know of your world and just learn about you as the other heroes worked their arses off outside.

Some much discussed, such little time, you made sure to tell your favourite farmer everything as simple as you could when the topic changed to your phone, glinting in your pocket and catching her attention.

“It’s a phone! It’s kind of like Wild’s Sheikah slate? I can use it to communicate, play games, take photos, listen to music-”

“Music?” Her tone sounded interested and she leaned in. “Please, do tell me more.”

And that’s what lead to the scene the boys walked into. Your phone blasting music, the red head and you, hand and hand, dancing happily around the kitchen as you sung your lungs out. Malon didn’t know the words sticking to giggles and laughter as you span her and dipped her.

The two of you only noticed the nine when she made an attempt to spin you, your eyes looking upon them in a shock and the words on your lips dying in the second as you fell quiet. Malon looked confused at first before she turned, blinking then smiling towards the boys in greeting.

“Join the party!” The men hesitated, sharing unsure stares amongst themselves. “Hm! Aren’t you a boring lot! Don’t stop now, (Name), we can’t let them ruin our fun!” 

Malon spun you away, your voice a squeak in surprise when you landed in the arms of Sky, looking down at you curiously while you flushed.

What an embarrassing thing to be caught in. It wasn’t too bad with an audience of one, Malon’s extroverted personality taking over your natural bashful nature until you were a barrel of laughs all over the place. You’d do this back home, with your mama, with your friends- this felt like normalcy after so long of oddity.

But these men were highly respect heroes. You couldn’t just goof about and sing in front of them, what if they made fun of you? You already lacked enough in the fighting department, Hyrule’s tiny dagger the only thing to your name that you couldn’t even yield. You didn’t deserve to goof off, to have fun, you were supposed to be quiet and stay in line, stay out of their way, to-

Then your song came on.

And everything was thrown out the window.

Tugging Sky towards you, ignoring his surprised yelp you sang, not a care in the world, not holding back. The dirty blonde looked shocked at first, letting you tug him about like a ragdoll and take control before a similar goofy smile crossed his face and then you were both dancing together.

Malon clapped happily, yanking at Time’s shirt to tug him into a dance while the others stood about unsure.

You couldn’t have that, could you?

Spinning you, Sky let you twirl away before you grabbed the hands of Hyrule whose ears flapped happily at your attention. Your smile was beaming, his was almost blinding as you began to dance with him too, Wild joining quickly after and soon enough your little trio was a mess of limbs and giggling away.

They sung too, something you realised after a moment but it only brought more joy. “You guys know the song!?”

“Of course we do!” Wild started, dipping you then letting Hyrule pick you up to twirl you, your squeal heavenly to their ears.

“You would sing it all the time!” Hyrule finished, finally placing you down and you tugged them into a hug.

You managed to move to each of the boys. Wind was happy; Four was bashful; Warriors held your enthusiasm; Twilight looked flustered with his fanged smile and Legend someone managed not to curse your entire bloodline as you twirled him around the dinner table. Time was your final partner, your head against his shoulder while he gently swayed you opposite to the toe tapping beat, the others in their own world around you.

A happy night, a deserving one as you partied. The laughter and mirth shared amongst the kitchen a lovely sight amongst these heroes forged from tragedy. You hoped it would bring good memories, this night, you hoped that in moments of darkness they would think back to the time you shared laughter and dance moves.

You hoped you did good.

Your phone finally died and a shared groan ehcoed around the room before finally you moved to eat.

#cloud answers #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid #Anon asks

[ohtobeleah]

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Six: Addicts

Summary: All hell breaks loose when the uranium mission doesn’t go according to plan. Rooster follows you down into enemy territory. It’s a race against time to find a way home safely.

Warning: Bradley Bradshaw x reader. Ex girlfriend ex boyfriend. Angst! Whump!

Word Count: 14.1k

Author Note: Oh my god. I don’t even know what to say. If you’re still here—thank you so much. We’re officially finished the main six chapters of Chaos. It’s been fun!

“So how's that addiction going?” Bob's voice drew you from deep thought as you looked out over the water, flight helmet in hand, hung by your side. Both geared up ready to go for what could very well be your last mission. “He looks strung out–” Gesturing to where Rooster stood talking to Maverick, it wasn't hard to miss the noticeable layer of sweat that had come over him. Looking over your shoulder you could only imagine what Pete must have been saying to Rooster, talking him down from whatever purch he’d plopped himself on.

“Yeah, well, I think I'd be the last person on earth he’d wanna be flying with right now–” singing softly as you turned to face Bob fully. “And as for the addiction, I'm a full blown addict.”

“You’re addicted—“ Robert Floyd was a different breed. He saw the world differently to most, almost like a textbook. With facts and evidence to back up his hypothesis and firm beliefs. He wasn’t a believer in the paranormal and he most certainly wasn’t a fan of politics. “Like full blown addicted—“ He was a man of science, numbers, statistics.

“He’s my ex Bob, not heroin!” The Lemoore sun was almost too much to bear as you and Bob hiked up the steep incline of Grants Creek. Bob’s idea for a team bonding exercise or his version of some sort of sick joke. “And besides, don’t you think it’s important to say no to drugs?” Jerk it out by the Caesars blasting through the speaker that hooked through Bob’s backpack, the carabiner doing God’s work.

“Well, it’s just not that simple.” Somewhere along the way—Bob had removed his T-shirt. It wasn’t that it was out of character for him to do so, it was simply that he trusted you not to comment. A little on the insecure side. But his faith in you to just accept him outweighed his own insecurities. Over the past six months, you had been his closest friend, his front seater, his best friend, his…. Well, Bob would never admit it but, crush? Maybe? He wasn't sure, all he knew for sure was that he thought you deserved the world. This ex you kept talking about? Kept confiding to him about? Just didn't seem to cut it in Bob’s eyes.

“Isn’t it the most simple thing in the world?” You questioned as you dramatically gasped for air, taking in the humidity of the atmosphere around you. Bob couldn't help but to chuckle as he handed you his water bottle. “Thanks—“ Taking it, you paused in your tracks for a breather. “Everyone knows drugs are bad, right? So why even start? I mean they cause crime and death—“

“And they also prop up the US economy.” Passing Bob back his water you frowned in concern.

“What are you talking about?” Bob loved a challenge, he always had. He loved talking to you about anything and everyone. He loved it because you wouldn't shrug him off, you would listen to what he had to say with interest and intent.

“Are you familiar with gross domestic product?” It wasn’t that Bob thought you were stupid, he just wanted to explain his standpoint. Watching as you nodded in response as the sun beamed down and the layer of sweat that had formed across the expanse of your body made it look like you were glowing. A sweaty, disgusting beautiful mess. “Well it’d be great if people didn’t get addicted to drugs, but—people are addicted to drugs.” Turning to face you as you both kept walking, making sure you were still following where he was going. “In order to get the drugs they have to buy them right? And that drug dealer needs to feed his family, they need a house and clothes and the family needs a car right? And there was even this theory that said drug money was the only thing that prevented the collapse of the global economy in two though and eight.”

“Why’s that?” Panting, following Bob up the steam incline, he reached out to lend you a hand, pulling you up the hill as he continued to walk beside you, just in front of you. His hands helping to guide you up as you played damsel. Bob knew you were fine, you just didn't want to be hiking right now, on your one day off the rest and recover.

“Because drug money was the only available cash to prop up big banks—without drugs, without addiction, shit would probably go tits up.”

“So what you’re trying to say is, I’m a closeted drug addict and my drug of choice is my toxic ex?” Bob knew he’d gone a little in depth with the facts, but he wouldn’t deny he was a numbers person. Facts and statistics was his way of life. “How’d you manage to make such a black and white argument grey?”

“I just don’t think it’s inherently something that’s good or bad—just, promise you won’t let whoever this guy is, when you ultimately go back to him—“

“I won’t.” You tried to defend yourself, Bob didn’t let you finish as he jogged ahead of you, turning to face you with a stirn finger pointed your way. The sun in his eyes— he’d forgotten his favourite hat.

“Ah but see! All addicts say the same damn thing, you know he’s bad for you, you recognise the damage he does, but the euphoria that you get with him just outweighs the consequences.” Bob had you trapped in your own defence. “Next thing you know you’re on the street—“

“Could be worse right?” Bob looked at you with concern, evident in his eyes. “Well I mean I could end up dead right? But you can’t overdose on a person can you?” Shrugging your shoulders, following Bob up the incline. Feet crunching the gravel dirt with every step you took. Bob had never seen a clearer addict before in his life—how did he know? Because he was one himself. Only his drug came in the form of adrenaline.

“Just, when it inevitably does happen—don’t forget you aren’t some B-grade constellation prize.” It made you blush, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you hid your smile for a brief moment. There was just something about Bob that made you feel at home. “C’mon—we’re running sprint to the top.”

“What!?” You groaned, letting your shoulders slump dramatically as you threw your head back. Bob was the kinda guy who liked to do that In manorial 9/11 stair master workout just for fun. You should have picked up he was psychotic from the get go. “This isn’t funny anymore—“

“Hey, I thought you were great at running away from your problems? It must be exhausting rooting for the anti-hero though, I get it.” Challenging you, Bob took off. His bag clinging to his bare back as you sighed, chasing after him with a huff.

“I've always found that admitting a problem is always the first step to recovery.”

“But I don't think I wanna recover, that's the problem Bob.” You knew you didnt wanna recover, all you’d ever wanted was Bradley bradshaw. But somewhere deep inside you there was a terrible feeling that you'd cut whatever thin thread there was keeping you together. Lying never solved any problem you’d ever had. Perhaps Jake had been right, you should have just told Rooster the truth instead of lying, trying to protect him. But look where that got you?cNowhere and alone. Shaking off the despair, you rubbed your face, pushing the stray hairs away from your face as the wind raced around you and Bob. “Hows’ Hangman?”

“He’s easy to make insecure—I'm sure he’ll get over it.”

“It has been an honour flying with you all. Each one of you represents the very best of the best, this is a very specific mission–my choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.” Maverick stood before the class with his shoulders squared.

“Choose your two foxtrot teams.” Admiral Beau stated firmly as he stood off to the side with his arms behind his back. Watching as Maverick nodded in the opposite direction to where you stood near the back of the room. Hiding amongst the class.

“Payback and Fanboy–” Okay good, you could deal with that. “Phoenix and Bob–” You felt the wind get knocked out of you for a brief moment. Not Bob. Anyone but Bob. in the most sincere, heartfelt way– you couldn't stand the idea of him not coming back from this.

“Choose your wingman–” you had begged, pleaded Pete to choose someone, anyone, besides Rooster to be your wingman. You had even told him that flying with Hangman, although it may cost you your life, would be better than flying with Rooster.

There were a total of two men in your life you never wanted to fly with on a serious mission. Those men being Bradley Bradshaw and Robert Floyd. The only real reason you had to be so reluctant was because to see them burn out would mean the death of you too. You weren't strong enough to come back from seeing that, you knew that much for sure. There was a split second, a brief pause, a glimpse in Mavericks eyes that had you for the briefest of seconds thinking he had listened. But fuck where you wrong.

“Rooster–” Fuck.

“And team lead?” There had never been a worst position to be in. You knew some of the class knew, others maybe not. Standing to the back of the room would mean the quickest escape to grab your gear, get the fuck out and get this voer with.

“Chaos.”

“Chaos!” Jake shouted as he came jogging over. Bob took it as his sign to leave. Deciding a hug was more fitting than a handshake. Embracing you with open and inviting arms, Bob consumed you entirely.

“I'll see you on the other side yeah?” pulling away, he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “And dont do anything stupid, we get in, we get out.”

“Absolutely I wouldn't even dream of it.” Tapping your shoulder Bob let you go, turning on his heels to make his way over to his F-18, Phoenix waiting for him as Hangman approached you. “Hangman–”

“You give 'em hell–” Jake stuck his hand out for you to shake, graciously you took it. Looking him square in the eyes as you did so. “There is no better pilot for the job than you.”

“Do me a favour? When this is all over? You and me, we’re gonna settle our differences, you and me– the Hard Deck ,six o’clock.” Jake chuckled as he let his hand drop. Standing before you as you smiled his way. He knew you were deflecting from your own self doubt. But for now he’d let you–because it seemed to be working rough to hold you together.

“Deal–I'll book it in with Penny.”

There wasn't much time left, by the time you had finished taking your tags off– Hondo was coming at you telling you it was time. You couldn't put it off any longer even if you wanted to. Doing one final lap of your F-18, Rooster was walking your way.

“Lieutenant Kazansky!” Rooster shouted over the roaring sounds of F-18 engines. “Ma’am!” of fuck the actual fuck off, was he really resorting to ma’am? “Lieutenant–”

“Rooster, it's Chaos or Y/n, stop with the ma’am bullshit before I decide to knock it out of you.”

“I just wanted to say–” Obnoxiously loud radio chatter cut Rooster off before he could finish. Which was probably a good thing, he was probably about to say something stupid—something he’d regret or most likely wish he never said. Fear riddling his central nervous system to the point he wasn’t thinking straight, that much was clear.

“We’ll talk, when we get back–” You stepped a little closer, fingers reaching for Roosters. Softly playing with his fingertips as you kept your gaze on the ground. Not daring to look up. “We’ll talk about everything–” Nodding in response, Rooster swallowed the lump in his throat he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Stepping back and away. Sweating balls. A nervous mess.

“Hey– Brad! Bradley! Hey!” Shouting you caught his attention. Watching as he turned to face you from across the deck. “You got this– don't think, just do.”

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

Terrifying. That’s what it felt like to be in your F-18, ready for take off. “Dagger one, up and ready on catapult one.”

“Dagger spare, standing by.” Hangman was the first to confirm his position after you.

“Dagger four up and ready–” Then Payback.

“Dagger three, up and ready” Then Phoenix.

“Dagger two, up and ready. “ And last my certainly not least– Bradley Bradshaw. Something you would never get used to was the force of being propelled from a carrier. The way the cord snapped back and let you go at a million miles an hour–take off from a short runway, moreso a taxiway was one of your greatest fears. That and being used as a personal plaything by Bradley. There was something so dehumanising in the way you would so easily allow him to come back and forth into your life, but when things were good? They were great. But when things were bad? It made the depths of hell seem like a summer vacation. A holiday destination you'd rather visit instead of having to deal with the heartbreak he left every time he’d walk away.

But Bradley bradshaw was a changed man, right?

“Comanche, dagger one standby check in.” Flying steady as you looked at your radio. Trying to push any and all thoughts of Rooster to the side. An achievement you were unlikely to achieve.

“Comanche, one one set, picture clean recommend dagger continue.”

“Copy Daggers descending below radar.” It wasn't very professional of you to be clouded with thoughts of Rooster as you flew closer and closer into enemy territory. If anything, having a clouded mind could easily get you killed. Letting emotion get the better of you was the last thing you wanted to be a victim of while flying a mission like this.

“Daggers now below radar, switching to E-2 picture.” Lilian, Camanche, addressed the carrier as she switched signals. It was unsettling to know you weren't on radar anymore. To begin to think things could go wrong now would be sentencing you and your team to an unlikely death. But you couldn't help but wonder without a radar signal, who would come find you if things went south? Would you have to claw your way back–would Adrial beau care? Would he send a rescue? Would he send his spare in?

“Here we go, enemy territory up ahead in sixty seconds, Comanche dagger one picture.”

“Comanche picture clean, decision is yours.”

“Copy–dagger attack.” Not even a few short seconds went by before you heard and saw the tomahawks fly over the top of you. There was no turning back now. “Daggers, assume attack formation.” Phoenix and Bob settled in on your tail. Rooster behind them, Payback and Fanboy at the tail end of the group. Picture perfect.

With a deep inhale and a slow burn exhale, you closed your eyes for a brief moment and prayed to whatever god was listening. To whatever guardian angel—your or not, who would watch over everyone. Bring them home safe to their families. “Daggers set, proceeding to target, two minutes and 30 seconds in three, two, one, mark.”

“Two mark.” Rooster checked directly after you.

“Three mark.” Payback reported, his timer set and counting.

“Four mark.” Phenix stated, still right on your tail.

“Going in–” The terrain itself was stunning. Snow covered mountains that were decorated with pines. It seemed as if it had been plucked right from a scene in those tacky Christmas holiday love story movies. As you throttled forward, all four of the F-18’s engines began shrieking. Reminding you that this was anything but a Christmas movie. This was real and this was serious and this could be deadly if you didn’t put your entire being into this. “First SAM site overhead.”

“Looks like we're clear on radar Chaos.” Phoenix was quick to interject.

“Let's not take that for granted.” Smirking softly as you turned left and right—sharp corners at every turn.

“More SAM’s, three o’clock high!” Fanboy spotted, you were grateful for the backseats because honestly you hadn’t even seen the SAM’s he was talking about. Your head in the clouds.

”We got two minutes to target.” Bob’s voice rattled through your radio. An underlying nervousness in his tone. Scared–but not enough to not know what an honour it was to fly this mission, with this group of highly skilled, highly trained pilots.

“Copy–” Payback was the first to respond. “We’re a few seconds behind, Rooster, we gotta move.”

“Dagger one, Comanche, we’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”

“Comanche, what's their heading?” Phoenix was quick to ask. 

“Bulls-eye 090, 50, tacked southwest.”

“They’re heading away from us, they don't know we’re here.” Rooster was sweating head to toe. Nervous as all hell. He didn't think he was ready for this, the way you had so confidently said you didn't believe he was ready either had stunted him. Although Jake had pulled him aside later that same night to say you were full of it–that you’d only said it so he’d stay behind, safe. It was still enough to curve him. Rattle him enough to have his nerves at an all time high.

“The second those Tomahawks hit the air base, those bandits are gonna move to defend the target–we have to get there before they do.Increase speed.” It really wasn't long after you had mentioned the tomahawks that they had hit the runways. Blowing them to smithereens as you got confirmation from the carrier it had been a successful hit.

“We got you Chaos, don't wait for me!” Phoenix’s voice came through strong on your radio.

“Bandits are switching course to defend the target.” The enemy well and truly knew you were coming as Lilian radioed in from her radio station.

“Rooster, where are you?” It wasn’t a question you wanted any response to other than right behind you. But that wasn’t what you were gonna get. His lack of motivation to go any faster then a snail had you generally concerened for his wellbeing, as a pilot of a fucking incredibly high staks mission and as a legitimate friend.

“C’mon Rooster, bandits inbound, we gotta make up time now– let's turn and burn.” Payback was the first to respond, trying to shake Rooster out of whatever state of mind he was in.

“Heads up Phoenix–” Flipping to your side with a sharp pull on your throttle—you sped through the arches of a bridge that hadn’t been simulated on the course you’d all been running the last few weeks. Phoenix still hot on your tail followed suit. Flawlessly.

“Guys, we’re falling behind, we really gotta move.” You heard everything going on behind you, not being able to turn back was killing you because it didn't just feel like you were leaving lieutenant Bradshaw behind. It felt like you were leaving your best friend behind, the love of your life. It probably felt that way because he was, you were leaving him behind–and after your last wingman? That wasn't something you could bring yourself to do. Never again. Fanboy was doing everything he could from his seat in the back of Paybacks F-18.

“If we don't increase our speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target.” Listening to Payback trying to coerce Rooster into getting his head in the game was starting to take its toll on you. Throwing caution to the wind with everyone around–including but not limited to the entire dager squad, the Admirals and an entire team of operations specialists listening in on over correspondence spoken.

“C’mon Rooster you can do it, don't think–just do.” Something in the way you said it really had Rooster listening, his chest warm as his heart grew. You really didn't understand just how much your words could affect him. The simplest of sentences could send him into overdrive or bring him to his knees. And this—sent him into hyperactive hyperdrive. “Don't think B’rad, just do.”

Channelling his dad's energy, Rooster shoved his throttle forward as he felt the G force around him change. Climbing rapidly as he raced against the clock to catch up.

“Jesus Rooster not that fast” Payback shouted as he suddenly felt like the one who was left behind. Watching in disbelief as Rooster hightailed it through the valley at high speed.

“That's it Bradshaw, that's it.” Smirking to yourself you knew Rooster would catch up. He’d make up for lost time now that he had his thumb out of his ass.

“Damn Rooster take it easy!” Fanboy teased—knowing Rooster was probably going a little faster then he honestly would have liked to have been. Purely to get back to you.

“Thirty seconds to target, Bob check your laser.!” It was becoming a race against the clock more so than ever before as you approached the target.

“Air to ground check complete, laser cose verified one six, eight eight. Laser is a go.” Bob confirmed, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He was so nervous.

“Phoenix, stand by for pop-up strike.” This was it, everything came down to this.

“Dagger three in position.” Phoenix confirmed flying hot on your tail.

“Popping in three, two, one.” inverting was always one of your favourite manoeuvres to pull, it made you feel invincible. Immortal for a split second. Coming back to a neutral position as you tried your best to steady your eyes on the target. The pressure on. “Get me eyes on that target, Bob–”

“Dagger three, stand by Chaos–” you could hear the panic lacing Bob's voice as he worked as fast as he could to get control over his weapons systems.

“C’mon Bob, C’mon!” You couldn't hold off for much longer, running out of time as you approached the target. It was now or never and never wasn't an option.

“Stand by!--” It felt like the longest few seconds of your entire life as you waited for the tone to sound. “I've got it, captured.” The sweet sweet sound of Bob's voice filled your cockpit as the radio blared with the confirmation you needed.

“Target acquired bombs away.” There was not another second to spare as your dropped your bombs. “Popping in three, two, one!” Pulling up the nose of your F-18, you fought against everything that told you to pass the fuck out. The force against your body nothing like you’d ever imagined as you felt the black ring around your eyes consuming you.

“We’ve got impact! Check! Direct hit direct hit!” Bob’s voice pulled you back from the brink as he confirmed you’d managed to actually hit the target. The taste of sweet sweet success had never tasted so sweet. But as sweet as success tasted there was a bitter aftertaste– where the hell was Rooster?

“Dagger two status!” It came out more pained than it should have, but fighting against the urge to pass out and the force of a thousand elephants crushing your chest will do that to you.

“Almost there Chaos almost there– Fanboy where my laser.” Rooster replied as he inverted over the lip of the mountain. Not far away at all. But after Roosters initial reply everything seemed to blur together as radio white noise.

“Rooster, there's something wrong with this laser! Shit deadeye deadeye deadeye!”

“C'mon guys we’re running out of him. Get it online”

“Come on Fanboy, get it online.”

“There's no time, im dropping blind–”

“Rooster i got this–”

“No time Pull up!”

Rooster–!”

“Bombs away, Bombs away!!”

“We’re not out of this yet.” Warning signals blared the moment you flew up above the SAM’s. Instantly on you the millisecond you were in their airspace.“Here it comes!” Your radar wasn't that far off. Signalling that you were in shit, deep. “Radar warning! Smoke in the air! Phoenix, break right!”

“Emergency jettison, Dagger three defending!” Phoenix's voice came through strongly on your radio as she followed your instructions.

“Here comes another one!” Bob reported as he tossed and turned in his seat–looking every which way he could to see where the next SAM was coming from. Your second pair of eyes in the sky.

“Dagger one defending!” You coudlnt have smacked your first against your emergency flare trap if you wanted to. Deploying your flares, looking around to see the SAM’s explode behind you. “Rooster status?” it wasn't a question, but an order. Rooster heard it in your voice as he came over coffin corner.

“Oh my god–” You heard him, that was enough confirmation you needed to know he was still in the game. Still alive. “Smoke in the air!! smoke in the air!!” But knowing SAM’s were hot on his tail the second he breached coffin corner was something that made your heart stop. This was a fucking mess. But if you got out of this alive? There was only one thing you wanted to do more than anything else in the entire world. Just make things right.

“Break right Payback!”

“Breaking right!”

“Oh my god, here they come!” Fanboy.

“SAM on your six Rooster!”

“Deploying countermeasures!” “Negative contact.”

“Dagger one defending–”

“Talk to me Bob.”

“Break right phoenix break right! Nine o’clock nine o’clock!”

“Rooster two more on your six!”

“Dagger two defending!” emergency flares.

“Payback, SAM on your nose!”

“Dagger four defending!”

“Rooster tally, seven o’clock–” 

It was all becoming too much to hear, too much to focus on, everything seemed to mash into one big mess inside your head.

“Talk to me Bob!”

“Dagger two defending”

“Phoenix break right!”

“I see it!” A mess of overlapping radio chatter until. Well, until it wasn't– until Rooster drew you out of the flurry you were in. deep in it.

“Dagger two defending–” Rooster groaned as he hit his flare cap. “Shit! I'm out of flares!” Your heart sunk, panic rose as you watched Rooster try and shake the SAM’s that kept coming his way.

“Rooster evade evade!” You shouted, tears welling in your eyes as you turned around. Splitting your throttles quicker than you could say I got you. This was Bradley Bradshaw you were protecting, you'd do anything for him– anything. Bob had said it months ago, you were an addict. You’d always go back for more no matter how bad he was for you. How bad you were for him.

“I can't shake em, they're on me! They’re on me!!” Shouting, Rooster panicked as you flew towards him. Not a thought behind your eyes besides protecting the one man who drove you fucking crazy with blind rage. The one man who knew all your secrets, all the flaws. The one man who loved you as fiercely and as passionately as he hated himself for loving you. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't just some pilot on some suicide mission you were leading. He was your best friend, the love of your life. To not save him would be to live a life alone, always regretting that you let him go.

“I can't do this again–” You whispered to yourself as you said a silent prayer to whatever god was watching over you. Whichever one that would listen you didn't really care. All you wanted was for Rooster to be alright. Be safe. Be able to go home. Even if to him his home was you. Wherever Rooster was? Home was wherever you were.

Without thinking, without hesitation, you pulled back on your throttle, sending your F-18 up, climbing in altitude as you swung up and above Rooster, hitting your flares to protect him. You felt the heat rising as you took out one of the SAM’s that were coming at Rooster, but it only grew as another blew out the back of your F-18.

“Fuck!!” Sending you spiralling into the valley below. Your skin burned under your flight suit, shrapnel embedded itself into your shoulder as you pulled your ejection cords. Punching out of the jet as it fell from the sky. Falling to the ground uncontrollably as you struggled with your shoot. “C’mon– c’mon!!” Ripping the cord just in enough time to slow you down before the tree line.

“Chaos!! No!!” Rooster shouted as pure panic consumed him. “Y/n!!” Watching the fireball that had been your F-18 crash into the valley below uncontrollably.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit! Chaos is down!” Phoenix reported back to the carrier. Bob couldn’t breathe, he’d told you not to do anything stupid. Why did you not listen? Addicts never listened.

“Dagger one status?” Rooster pleaded through the radio as he watched your F-18 go down in what would only be described as a fireball. Thick black clouds of smoke following. “Status?-- shit does anyone see her?” Rooster's voice became more panicked the longer he went without a definitive response. Flying around he couldn't see you. “Dagger one come in!”

“I didn't see a parachute–” Payback confirmed as he followed Rooster right on his tail.

“We have to circle back!” Rooster wasn't putting it to the group for questioning. He was going back, that wasn't an negotiable option. But that didn't stop them from trying.

“Comanche, bandits inbound, single group hot. Recommend dagger flow south– one minute to intercept.”

“All dagger flow to ecp–”

“What about chaos!?” Rooster hissed. Tears welling in his eyes– enough to the point where they steamed down his cheeks.

“Dagger spare requesting permission to launch and fly air cover!” Back on the carrier, Jake Seresin sat idly by at the hands of the Admirals who shook their heads despite his plea.

“Negative spare–” At the sound of the order he’d received Hangman threw his mask down with a frustrated grown. You weren't a quitter, if anything you were a fighter. But this? Was enough to break even the strongest of people. You had told him you wouldn't get to come back from this one, Jake just didn't know you meant like this.

“Dagger two you are not to engage, repeat you are not to engage.” It was a nightmare Rooster had never really thought about. Losing you on a mission, having you there one minute then being gone the next. Sacrificing yourself for him was also something Rooster was not about to let you do. “Dagger two return to carrier– acknowledge.” He’s been lucky this far in his career to not have flown a mission with you. And of course the first was the last.

“Rooster, those bandits are closing, we can't go back.” It killed him to say it but Bob knew he had to, in order to not lose anyone else today. He’d told you not to do anything stupid, so he wasnt going to do that either. Holding back his only emotions, because this wasnt over yet– Bob was the first to make the conclusion everyone was afraid to make. “Rooster, she's gone–Chaos is gone.”

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

The chill of snow captivated you entirely. It stung, like when you’d hold something cold for far too long. Everything hurt. From the blood that had seeped into your flight suit from the wound you had on your shoulder—to the pressure forcing itself down onto your lungs. Your ribs were on fire, your nose bloodied. Pushing yourself up onto your knees felt like a task only the fittest of people could do. But you pushed through, taking in your surroundings. Snow, trees, more snow and more trees.

With a heavy sigh, you sat back on your feet, legs bent as you focused on breathing– chuckling softly at the disbelief you were alive.

Your head spun at the sound of what you could only assume was an approaching helicopter. Almost definitely not one of yours. Scrambling as fast as you could against the clock to unclip your parachute. Watching in a flurry as it came around the corner—tracking you down.

“Fuck—“ You mermered to yourself as you worked a little faster. “Fuck fuck fuck—“ Struggling to breath, struggling to run, struggling to do just about anything as you ran for your god damn life through the snow– you decided that jumping over a nearby job that looked as if it could hide you would be your best option. You couldn't outrun a helicopter.

“Fuck!” Screaming at the top of your lungs, you curled yourself up into a ball as the enemy helicopter fired rounds your way. Missing every time but only by mere centimetres. So close you could feel the residual heat coming from them. “Oh my god–fuck!” Holding your shoulder you watched as the helicopter came around to face you, staring down the barrel of a gun, accepting your fate– you gave in. Shutting your eyes tight, you heard the sound of explosions, being met with sight of the helicopter blown to pieces when you opened them curiously. Watching as Roosters F-18 came racing by. Enemy SAM’s making contact with the tail of his F-18, forcing him down.

“Oh God No–” With pure panic bubbling to the surface as you stood, you watched as Rooster was struck, his F-18 spiralling down towards earth on fire. “Rooster! Fuck! No no no no no!” It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, you were bleeding from God only knows where with injuries unknown and countless–but you had to get to him. That wasn't negotiable.

Racing through the snow, trees lining the way, you ran as fast as your body would allow you to and then some. Pushing through everything you felt to get to Rooster. Seeing him casually folding up his parachute.

“You alright!?” You didn't let your legs slow down until you got to where Rooster was crouching over. Standing, he replied.

“Yeah, I'm good! What about you?” With a heavy shove to his chest you had Rooster on his back in the snow. Watching as he ripped his helmet from his face as you did the same. “What the hell!?” Rooster stood to his feet in a fluffy, his eyes beaming at you. Anger laced his tone as he got in your face.

“Fucking idiot! What are you doing here!?” You couldn’t hold in your anger. You thought he’d been stupid enough to sacrifice himself for you.

“What am I doing here?” Rooster repeated as you huffed, clearing injured and out of breath. Your good arm, working to cradle your clearly not okay arm. Holding your forearm close to your chest as you held the weight of your arm—taking pressure off your shoulder. Your collarbone throbbing. Ribs collapsing into your lungs.

“You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me!? You should be back on the carrier by now!?”

“I SAVED YOUR LIFE!” Leaning into it, Rooster gritted his teeth. Defending his actions as you puffed your chest. Still cradling your arm.

“No! I saved YOUR life! That’s the whole point! What the fuck where you even thinking!!”

“You told me not to think!” You had nothing to come back at him with. You had told him that, on many occasions. You just never expected he’d use your own logic against you. Stunned into silence– you watched as Rooster held his arms up and slammed them back down into his sides in a what the hell kinda way.

Out of breath and knowing that Rooster was alive, you let out a sigh of relief. Rooster stopped to look around for a brief moment– taking in the terrain.

“Well, it's good to see you.” You cooed, standing tall as blood dripped from your shoulder, seeping into your flight suit. Staining it a dark crimson colour.

“It's good to see you too–” Pausing briefly as his eyes wandered down to where the colour of your suit had changed, Rooster's heart sank. “Your bleeding?” Coming closer, you leaned into his touch. Feeling a little light headed as Rooster worked to unbutton a few of your flight suit buttons to get a closer look. Grimacing at the sight. “Well it certainly looks worse than it probably feels.”

“Feels like I've been shot by a flare.” The taste of iron covered your taste buds as blood dripped from your nose. Working to wipe it away with the sleeve of your suit.

“Little dramatic but I'd say some form of shrapnel.” Rooster mumbled as he worked to do up the buttons he had undone. “Other than that? You alright?” Silence fell between you as you looked up into Rooster's eyes. Noticing the blood on his neck.

Nodding you pressed your lips together—knowing if you spoke you’d be lying through your teeth. You didn't want to say anything else about any other injuries because you didn't know what was wrong. All your knew was that everything fucking hurt.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” It hurt to speak but you pushed it aside. Reaching out with your good arm to wipe the dirt off Roosters cheek. “I just didn’t want you flying this stupid mission.” You did it all for love.

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Rooster smirked as he reached out to cup your cheeks, standing so close although you were standing in the snow? You felt nothing but warmth. His warmth. “Hangman told me—“

“That fucker—I told him in—“ Rooster didn’t let you finish. His lips were warm against yours for what felt like a lifetime. Time stood still as he deepened it, desperately needed to just be with you. “When we get outta this mess, that's it okay—no more games, I wanna make this, us–work.” It hurt to hold your breath or whatever breath your lungs could hold as you kissed Rooster back. His hands still cupping your cheeks, holding you close to him as snow fell around you. “I thought for a moment there that I’d lost you for good and I’ll never shake that feeling.”

“Rooster—“

“Marry me?” Okay yeah now you couldn’t breathe.

“Did you hit your head?” Reaching out to inspect Rooster’s head, you frowned in response to his out there question. Listening to him chuckle as he shook his head. “What the hell—you hit your head didn't you?”

“I’m serious. Marry me Y/n.” Rooster was as serious as a heart attack.

“Bradley, we’re standing in enemy territory, I don’t know how to get us out of here and you already know whatever we are just isn’t—“

“Don’t think, just do.” Rooster smirked as he kissed you again. His hands squishing your cheeks together as you chuckled into his touch. Pulling away because you genuinely couldn’t breathe, your ribs crushing your lungs.

“Okay okay—I’ll think about it.” Silence fell as your eyes met Roosters. “When we get outta this mess, ask me again.” Roosters hands lingering on your hips—keeping you close as snow fell around you. “We need a plan.” Kissing the top of your head as he pulled you in, Rooster was unaware of the pain you were in.

“Well—what's the plan?” But despite the pain, you still had to figure a way out of here.

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

Alarm bells rang throughout the valley as you and Rooster laid parched at the lookout point you'd decided was the best vantage point. Holding your binoculars up, you handed them over to Rooster who was looking at you as if you were crazy. You’d have to have hit your head, this was crazy even for you.

“You're not serious?” looking at you with disbelief evident is his eyes Rooster asked if you were bat shit crazy. “You've gotta be shitting me, an F-14?” Rooster held the binoculars up to his eyes one more time to confirm what he was seeing, what he was hearing. There was no way this was your plan. Stupic, idiotic and absolutely chaotic at best.

“Mav’s shot down two MiG’s in one of those things–” You never took your eyes off the prize. This was the only way to get you and Rooster home. The only way you could come up with. “We need a way out—the only way out is to go out the same way we got in, fly.”

“Are you mentally deficient Chaos? This is a suicide mission—“ Rooster argued as he laid beside you on his stomach.

“What, and you thought blowing up all that Uranium wasn’t?” Rooster had to admit he got you there. “Rooster I learnt a long ago that if the Navy was only going to see a girl that’s dangerous, a force to be reckoned with and way too stubborn, then there’s no point in trying to be anything else—they aren’t coming back for me, for you, this is the only way we’re getting out of this alive.”

“We don't even know if that bag of ass can fly! Also, you've never flown one before!” Hissing through gritted teeth Rooster watched as you sat back on your knees, groaning softly as you cupped your side. Your bad arm still resting against your torso. Trying to keep it still without a sling was proving to be a little difficult.

“Let's find out–” You waisted no time as you pushed yourself up onto your feet—marching out into enemy territory.

“Chaos!” Rooster whisper shouted as he reached out for you, slipping through his fingertips as always. “Okay–” Deciding he didn't want to be left behind, Rooster ran after you, catching up quickly as you continued scouting the area. Feeling the brick wall that was Rooster crashing into the back of you as he lost his footing for a second.

“There's guys up there Chaos–”

“Yep–” You acknowledged Rooster as his hands guided your hips.

“There's more over there–” Looking around frantically, Rooster shoved you softly, forcing you to pick up the pace as you saw people running around you. Most likely heading to their stations.

“Okay–let's start running.”

“Yeah, run, run!” It really didn’t take the two of you long to reach the hangar where the old F-14 sat tucked away. Panting as you struggled to breathe—Rooster's stomach dropped at the feeling something might not be okay. “Hey you good?” His hand on the small of your back as you looked over the generator. A million things you had no idea what did or didn’t do. But a few things stood out.

“I’m fine.” It was a blatant lie, but to mention you felt like you were dying would be to worry Rooster for no good reason. “Okay so when I give you the signal for air, you're gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to one twenty.” Rooster listened as you explained what you needed him to do. “When the engine starts, you gotta pull out the pins and disconnect everything– do you understand?”

“How do you know all this?” There really wasn’t time to go into depth about how you’d taken an old aviation course a while back. Nothing serious, but it gave you enough basic knowledge to guess your way through this.

“No time for that now, do you understand?” Shaking off Roosters curiosity.

“Yeah– yeah I'm good.”

“Good.” Turning to try and get power going, you couldn't hold in your excitement when the generator kicked off. “Yes!--’ Racing off as you held your shoulder firmly, losing blood a little quicker than you would have liked to have been.

“Once I'm up, stow the ladder.” Placing your helmet on as Rooster watched on almost starstruck. He couldn't believe this was happening. He always thought you would be the death of him, but this wasn't what he had on his bingo card. Watching as you climbed up the ladder, stowing it away shortly after you sat down in the cockpit.

“Okay wow–talk to me Mav, what am I looking at here?” You mumbled to yourself as electronic wiring filled the cockpit as you gave Rooster the signal. Firing up the engines, Rooster raced around untagging and pulling pins. Jumping up onto the wing of the F-14 before settling in behind you.

“Oh my god this thing is so old–” Rooster had never flown with you before. Sure, he’d flown with you in terms of training—but he’d never been your back seater. He’d never been in the same cockpit as you.

“Canopy?” Rooster knew what type of pilot you were, reckless and crazy.

“Clear–!” But that was exactly what you both needed to get you out of here alive. Try or die. Pulling out of the hanger slowly, the creaking of aluminium filled your eardrums as you hit the breaks. Fuck— there way nothing left.

“Both runways are cratered, how are we gonna get this museum piece in the air?” Rooster asked as he sat behind you. Watching as you flipped the safety up—extending the wings out as if you were preparing for takeoff.

“Why are the wings coming out, Chaos?” You couldn’t help but to chuckle at how ridiculous it sounded coming out of Roosters mouth. He knew exactly why the wings were coming out—he just didn’t want to believe you were inherently this fucking crazy. This desperate. “Chaos this is a taxiway, not a runway, this is a very short taxiway Chaos!”

“Rooster just hang on–” You didn't see another way out. Committing as you fired up everything the old nF-14 had to give as full speed. Sending you both back against your chairs.

“Holy Shit!” If Rooster lived to see the day, he swore to himself that if he ever had the chance to have children, he’d be sure to tell them about the time their mother used a taxiway as a runway. Hopefully that would be enough to convince them of just how crazy you were. Perhaps maybe they'd be too scared to be reckless themselves.

“C’mon c’mon c’mon needles alive, c’mon– You grinned as you watched the needle climb, pulling up on your throttle as your landing gear left the taxiway.

“Chaos!!” Rooster shouted as he felt you lifting off.

“That's it, c'mon! C’mon! Here we go!”

“Holy shit!” Rooster felt like he was going to be sick, this was crazy even for you. The craziest thing he’d ever seen anyone do, and he knew Maverick. This took the cake. He felt the landing gear rip off the bottom of the F-14 as you just barely missed the top of the lookout. Exhaling in relief, Rooster turned his ESAT on. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“Hey if you have any ideas air them now Bradshaw–” Laughing together, you thought you were home free.”Can you work on getting us in touch with the boat?”

“Yeah, working on it, but the radio’s out, we have no radar, everything is dead back here. What should I do? talk me through it.”

“Okay, um–first the radio, throw the uh–UHF-2 breaker, try that?” There was something incredibly attractive about the way you told him what to do. Rooster knew it was probably really bad timing, but he couldn't help the way he felt. It was empowering, you were strong and fierce and everything his mother told him to find in a woman.

“There are three hundred breakers back there, anything more specific?” Rooster looked around at all the breakers trying to find the one you'd told him to try, completely overwhelmed.

“I’ve only taken a short course on old aviation and navigation, dad and Mav never really talked all that much about anything like that– I think it was more of your dad's department.”

“I'll figure it out.” Flying steady, it was almost too good to be true. Too easy, pulled off without a hitch. There was a small part of you that felt like something else was about to go wrong. The engine would die or the wings would fall off. “Chaos tally two five o’clock low.” Well it wasn't what you were imagining but it was still serious. “what do we do?”

“Okay listen, just be cool, if they knew who we were, we’d be dead already.” That much was ture. Scrambling your brain trying to come up with a plan, but there was nothing–you were running on empty.

“Well, here they come– what's your plan?” You wanted to be honest and say you didn't have one, because you really didn't. But you couldn't go down without a fight–not when you had Roosters life on the line as well. You were getting yourself out of this. Getting Rooster out of this.

“Just put your mask on, remember, we’re on the same team.” Flying up beside you the bandits gestured a few things you weren't sure of, signalling back you tried to say you could hear. That must have told them something was off. Watching as he filled back. “Oh shit his wingman is moving into weapons envelope.” Alright, listen up– when I tell you, you grab those rings above your head.” Rooster looked up to where the yellow and black striped rope was above his head. “That's the ejection handle.”

“Chaos can we outrun these guys?”

“Not their missiles and guns.”

“Then it's a dog fight–” You let Rooster's words linger in the air for a moment. He knew you had it in you, but something was stopping you from being reckless.

“An F-14, against fifth generation fighters?” Arguing the point, you really didn't want to have to admit you didn't think you could do it. Your lungs felt like they were full of water, your heart burned, your shoulder throbbed and your nose felt like it was ten times bigger than it should have been. You’d done a bang up job on yourself that was for sure.

“It's not the plane, it's the pilot.” Rooster's voice was soft, a starck contrast to the situation you were both facing right now. “I know you’d go after then if I wasn't here.”

“But you are here–” The way you said it, such softness in your tone, such a love, with such a desire to protect him. Rooster had to snap you out of it because he knew you better than anyone and there was no one else who could get the two of you out of this. It was do or die trying, there wasn't any room to hold back.

“C’mon Chaos, don't think, just do.” As if something possessed you in the blink of an eye—you were pulling back on the throttle violently. Forcing your jet behind the firs bandit before hammering in with your guns. Peppering the aluminium. “Tell me when you see smoke in the air!” Rooster did his best to stay in his seat as you broke left, then right. Doing your best to evade the second bandit. Turning around to look at the missile coming directly at you—tone ringing throughout the cockpit.

“Smoke in the air!! smoke in the air!”

“Hang on!” Turning left as sharp as you could, you swung low–racing past the bandit that was already on its way down. The missile that had been heading directly at you making contact with the bandit as you cut in front of him.

“Yeah Chaos! Splash one splash one!” Rooster cheered behind you, turning to see the bandit on your tail had fired yet another missile. “Here comes another one.”

“Rooster flares, now, now, now!” Rooster did as he was told, working quickly to deploy countermeasures, flares popping as he held his finst against the button. “Splitting the throttles, coming around.” You knew you were talking to yourself at this point but you didn't really care. It seemed to help as you pulled back and fell behind the bandit. Now positioned behind him once again. Chasing him down as you tried your best to get your targeting system on him. “Give me tone give me tone” The target lock beeped rapidly–notifying you that you had him locked. Or her– you weren't really sure and you didn't really care, it was them or you.

“You got him Chaos you got him!” Rooster kept doing his best to keep you focused, keep you fighting. He couldn't really do anything else. All his systems were down, he wasn't a backseater.

“I'm taking the shot!” As you took the shot with one of only two missiles that you had– you hoped it was a straight shooter. Unfortunately it wasn't, and you couldn't really explain what actually happened even if you tried. Watching as the bandit stalled his engines and flew straight past you, flat in a spin that seemed near impossible to control.

“Holy shit what the fuck was that?” Rooster had never seen a manoeuvre like that, neither had you.

“Hang on, we gotta get low, the terrain will confuse his targeting system.” swinging low, the nose of your F-14 took a steep dive towards the valley, only mere metres above the ground as you took sharp lefts and rights.

“Here he comes!” Rooster announced as he had his head turned. Feeling the not so good sensation of rounds embedding into the aluminium of your F-14.

“We took a hit, we took a hit!” Rooster watched as the bandit gained turf on your tail.

“Talk to me Rooster, where is he?”

“He's still on us!”

“Damit–”

“C’mon Chaos to some of the Vigilante shit!” This felt personal now. You were fucking pissed. You were hurt, bleeding. They say looks could kill and the way you were looking at this bandit right now—How was he not already dead?

“Brace yourself!” You were flying for revenge. Not a single aviation rule applied at this point. Pulling up as you climbed for altitude only to swing back around and cut the engine for a brief second to fall behind again.

“Holy shit!” Rooster usually had a pretty good constitution, but the way you were flying? It had him on the brink of spewing chunks down your back.

“I got tone, taking the shot!” You watched with revenge in your eyes as the Missile went flying towards the bandit. Smoke in the air as he deployed his flares—making contact. “Dammit—I’m out of missiles, switching to guns.”

“You got him Chaos!”

“It's not over yet, once last chance!”

“You can do this!” It felt like you were peering through a window, a deep portal, time travelling

All the love you unravelled and the life you almost gave away as Rooster encouraged you to keep fighting. Memories flashing back as you chased the bandit down.

“I'm trying to break up with you Y/n”

“I can't make you wait for me, I'm not going to do that.”

“I think I'm ready to let go now–”

“Thank you for breaking me to the point where I learned to finally value myself, It took a lot.”

“I'm not doing this anymore, this back and forth bullshit!”

“Well figure out a way to stop because you will be the last person I allow back into my life!”

“Go to hell Kazansky.”

As your mind whipped through a rolodex of memories, you hadnt even noticed you’d pulled the trigger for the final time. Peppering the banit with everything you had left. Roosters cheers, pulling you back from your subconscious.

“Yes! Splash two splash two!!” Bradley couldn't control his excitement if he tried, reacting over to tap your shoulder– not releasing it was your bad one.”

“AH, Fuck!” Hissing through gritted teeth you closed your eyes tight. Flying smooth over the water towards the carrier's last known positioning.

“What, what's wrong?” Rooster asked, not knowing how bad things really were. “Are you alright?”

“Im fine its just–” Pausing briefly, you let out a prolonged exhale as you adjusted yourself. “Just my shoulder Bradshaw, nothing I can't handle, just work on getting us in touch with the carrier.” It didn't take Rooster too long to figure out where that breaker was hiding that you told him about before the bandits had showed up.

Chaos, I got the radio on, gonna get us in touch now–”

“Copy That–” All of a sudden, your alarm systems began blaring. All you could think was not again, had you not been through enough all ready? “Oh my god–” Looking around you began to panic, eyes wide with fear.

“Where the hell is this guy?” Rooster questioned as he did the same, leaving fingerprints on the glass of the cockpit as he twirled in his chair. Looking every which way possible to try and spot the bandit.

“Rooster–he’s on our nose.” There wasn’t a moment more than now where you wished you could wake up screaming from dreaming, quickly acting to fire another round of ammunition—nothing “Dammit it, we’re out of ammo.” With fearful eyes and a heart racing at a million miles an hour—you saw the unimaginable. A missile coming straight for you. “SMOKE IN THE AIR–ROOSTER FLARES!” There was barely any time to react, you’d only just managed to pull up on the throttle. Sending the nose of your F-14 sky high.

“That was close!” Rooster turned in his seat as his eyes followed the bandit, watching with a tight chest and shallow breathing as he came back around. Coming right after you. Pressing his thumb against the flare ignition—nothing. “We’re out of flares Chaos!”

“Shit he's already on us!” Stuck in a tin can, bleeding to death—there wasn’t much else you had up your sleeves. In all accounts you’d put up a pretty good fight, one hell of a fight even. The sound of artillery fire rained down on your F-14, jolting you around as warning bells blared and systems flashed.

“We took another hit.”

“no , no, no, no, no, no–”

“We can't take much more of this!”

“We can't out run this guy, we gotta eject!”

“What?” Rooster would follow you to the end of the earth if you asked him to. But there had to be another way. One more spectacular surprise up your sleeve. You’d gotten him this far, the carrier was in sight.

“We need altitude, pull the ejection handles the second I tell you.”

“Chaos wait–” How could you give up now?

“Rooster there's no other way, eject eject eject!” It felt like the weight of the world was crushing you in on yourself—your lungs burned like smouldering piles of tar. “Rooster–pull the goddamn handle!”

“It's, not, working!” Those three simple words held so much weight. Enough to break you. Rooster tried his best to break the canopy free but it was no use. You’d done even in your power to save him, save yourself. But all your efforts would go unnoticed.

Underneath all your bad blood, you and Rooster still had your sanctum. Despite everything? Bradley Bradshaw was still home.

Although you’d said it a million times over, but it was never too late to build it back everything you had—everything you wanted to have and more. A one-in-a-million chance is still a chance at the end of the day—and for Rooster you would take those odds.

“I’m so sorry—“ There was no time left to unbreak the broken, unsay spoken words, find hope in the hopeless. There was no time to beg for someone to pull you out of the train wreck. There was no time to unbury the ashes or unchain the reactions.

“I'm so sorry Bradley—“ You simply were not ready to die, not yet. As you closed your eyes, knowing soon after you’d be consumed entirely by fire—Rooster voice pulled you back out of the void that had its strong grip around your throat. Numb to almost everything as you held onto whatever life you had in you. Cold, your fingers and toes seemed to be numb. The left side of your body, just nothing. Ghostly.

An air to air kill. That’s what it was. The explosion so big, so powerful—it left clouds of dark black smoke lingering like demons. The gates of hell itself had opened up as a familiar F-18 came soaring through the plumes.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your saviour speaking—“ With a sigh of utter relief and a thankful smirk. You had never been so happy to see Jake Seresin. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing.” Smacking your first twince against the glass of the cockpit, you laughed aloud. So beyond thankful. You were fucking alive—alive long enough to see Rooster back on stable ground. Safe with the people who cared about him the most.

“Hey Hangman–You look good.” Rooster commented from his seat in the back. You couldn’t help but to chuckle as Jake nodded in response before radioing back, the same cocky response he’d given Rooster at the Hard Deck.

“I am good Rooster, I'm very good. I'll see you back on deck.”

“Impeccable timing—“ Rooster sighed as he felt his entire body relax as you followed Hangman back to the carrier. “And exceptional dog fighting, lieutenant Kazansky.”

“I had someone pretty important to protect, I wasn’t going down without a fight.” You had nothing left to give. Fighting with everything you had to stay awake, stay alert and land this F-14. Switching channels as you radios back to the carrier. “Chaos is downwind. No front landing gear, no tailhook, pull the cable and raise the barricade.”

There was something important you had to do. Racing past the bridge of the carrier where both Admiral Beau and Admiral Bates stood. You flew low and close as you held your finger up to the glass. Giving them the bird before your right engine cut out.

“Please don't tell me we lost an engine.” Rooster sighed, what else could possibly go wrong.

“Alright I won't tell you that.” Chuckling you braced for impact. With no landing gear you hit the deck with a thud—scrapping for what felt like miles as the barricade helped to slow you to a complete stop. “You good?”

“Yeah, i'm good–” Nodding as he spoke, Rooster was quick to remove his helmet as the canopy opened. Standing to greet the crowd of overly excited crew who thought for sure you were both goners. “Here, I got you.” It was a simple gesture but a much needed one. Rooster stood on the ladder as he helped you down. Noticing how much blood had soaked your flight suit. “Fucking hell you’re not okay.”

“M’fine.” It came out more of a mumble than a definitive statement but before you could try again Rooster was being hauled away into the crowd of excited cheering men and women. Jake Seresin appeared as the crowd dissipated from around him as they drew their atom Rooster. “Chalked yourself another kill?” You teased as he stood before you. Handing you a handkerchief to wipe the blood off your face that had dripped from your nose. Swollen and surely broken.

“That makes two–”

“Chaos has Five, makes her an ace.” Phoenix was quick to interject as her and Bob joined the conversation. Bob carefully and ever so gently wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in for a hug that he never thought he’d get to give you. 

“Lieutenant Kazanksy!” Although even for less then a few minutes,there wasn’t a part of Rooster that didn’t want to be by your side. “Lieutenant Kazansky!” God you couldn't let him speak another word, pulling Rooster in by his flight suit as he neared you. Your lips on his as he leaned into you.

“Thank you for saving my life.” Mumbling against Rooster mouth you felt your heart skipping beats. You tried to tell yourself it was because of Rooster—but deep down? You knew it had something to do with the way everything felt numb. How everything seemed to still, all the noise and colour in the world began to fade.

“You did the same for me–” Rooster cooed just as he noticed how disoriented you’d become. Suddenly dropping forward into him as your legs gave out. “Chaos?” The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since that helicopter came after you. “Hey—Y/n?” Tapping your check softly, Rooster dropped to his knees with you limp in his arms. Your eyes on his as you struggled to breathe. “Woah—hey, what’s wrong? Chaos, can you hear me?” You couldn’t hear Rooster, not at all. But you could see his lips moving as Bob worked to clear a space around you—calling for medical staff to intervene.

“Shit—no, no, no, no—hey Y/n you stay with me yeah?” Rooster felt the blood on his hands as it seeped through your flight suit. “Don’t do this, we’re good? Yeah? Your alright—“

“I’ll marry you.” Choking it out as blood leaked from your mouth. “Don’t think, just do.” Eyes rolling as you lost it completely, following whatever force was pulling you away.

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

Jake Seresin had become used to the steady melody that was the bells and whistles that let him know you were still fighting. Unlike Rooster, who hadn’t left the hospital let alone Miramar—Hangman would do the usual rounds every few days.

First on his ever growing list of tasks would be to always stop by the nurses station. With his tan service uniform dawned and a smile that could break hearts, he’d lean on the counter and chat to whoever would give him the time of day.

After getting his kicks with the front desk nurses—Jake would make his way to your room. He’d taken it as a good thing when they moved you out of intensive care to general pop. But he didn’t account for the roommates you would acquire. Rooster and Bob had yet to leave, they would tag team watching over you.

Jake would linger at the threshold of the room for a moment, he’d take in the sight of you. Intubated, comatosed, arm in a sling to help your shoulder heel, collarbone broken. With a sigh, he’d put on a brave face. Stalking over to read your chart that hung from the bottom on your bed. By all accounts you seemed to be getting better, so why after three weeks had you shown no sign of waking up.

The next item on the agenda would be to check on Bradley and Bob. The Miramar hospital's latest residences. Jake would pick up the rubbish from takeout, he’d pick dead followers out of the bunches Rooster continued to buy you. He’d place blankets over Bob and Rooster as they laid knocked out old on those uncomfortable as all hell hospital chairs. He’d even go as far as to make sure the window would be cracked open slightly, hoping the fresh air would do good to help you recover.

Today was different though. Because as Jake Seresin stood at the threshold of your hospital room, a bunch of flowers in his hand to replace the decaying ones he’d seen diminishing rapidly on Wednesday—he saw you looking back at him. Eyes tired with a soft smirk evident on your face.

“Well I’ll be damned—“ You didn’t respond, you simply placed your finger over your mouth. Jake understood instantly as he crept into the room. Taking in the fact Rooster and Bob both sat slouched in the corner of the room. One drooling, both slightly snoring with mouths a jar. “How long have you been awake?” Hangman was as quiet as he could be as he placed the bunch of flowers at the foot of your bed.

“About an hour—give or take.” Watching as he pulled up a spare chair, coming close to your bedside as your eyes followed him. “I didn’t wanna wake them.” Gesturing to where Rooster and Bob sat sleeping, leading on one another for support as they caught up on the one thing that seemed to evade them—sleep. Jake followed your gaze for a brief moment before turning back to you. “They look like hell.”

“I dunno if you’ve had a chance to look in the mirror Chaos, but I think it’s safe to say you look the most hellish.”

“And you pick up? With that attitude? Pfft—way to make a girl swoon Seresin.” Laughing hurt, but you pushed throughout the pain. “How long have they been here for?”

“Well Robert decided to join the sleepover after you got out of the intensive care ward—Rooster? I don’t think he’s left your side since the carrier, man had to be detained for a minute there while on board.”

“What why!”

“Because he wouldn’t let you go, people were trying to do their jobs you know, help you—but Rooster just would not let them take you.”You had nearly given your life for him, how could he ever let you go? It probably wasn't the most rational decision, but it was the only one his brain at the time would commit to. In his arms you would be the safest. “Have you spoken to the doctors yet?”

“I told them I’d buzz when I was ready to be poked and prodded—just wanted to kinda lay here and just breathe.” Hangman smirked as he pushed himself out of the chair he sat on, reaching out for the clipboard hanging at the foot of your bed before nestling back into the chair. Leaning back as he flipped through the reports, looking at you grimacing.

“Shrapnel from SAM’s embedded in soft tissue of left shoulder, a broken clavicle—full fitness tear of your subscapularis, seven broken ribs, a punctured lung, broken nose—and to top it all off? Chaos, you had a bloody stroke.” It came as a massive shock to you, Hangman could tell by the way you just shared into his soul. Speechless, stunned. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you managed to fly an F-14 back to the carrier with a busted collarbone—that would’ve been enough to take me out of the fight.”

“I don’t really remember much.” That part was no surprise as Jake flipped the papers back onto the clipboard, setting it aside. “I remember the mission, being hit—everything after that’s pretty blurry.”

Rustling from the corner of the room at you and Jake turned your heads almost completely synchronised to see what all the commotion was about. Bob had stirred himself awake from the sheer lack of comfort. Rubbing his eyes as he yawned—Bob’s eyes met yours and instantly thought he was still dreaming.

“Hi—“ Only when you said something did he stumble over to your bedside, his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose.

“What? You’re awake!” Too scared to touch you, Bob's hands shook as they hovered over your arm. He’s always known you to be strong, fearless, independent. This was a whole new ball game though. You looked fragile, like paper thin glass that could shatter into a million pieces instantly if he wasn't careful. Bruises still purple, green and yellow. Bandages and stitches covered cuts and deep lacerations. Your nose looked better though, he'd give you that much.

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“How long? Why didn’t anyone wake me? Wake Rooster—?” Bob questioned as he turned back over his shoulder to see Rooster till sleeping soundly.

“An hour give or take, and you looked like you needed the rest.”

“They only took your interbations out like four days ago.” Bob was quick to pull up a chair as he sat down on the other side of you. Still rubbing his eyes, still waking up. Feeling groggy but god was it worth it to have you awake again.

“Miss Chaos here is still defying odds it seems.” Jake Seresin had developed a new apraction for you. He saw you as something higher than a god.

“How long have I been out for?” You weren't really sure how long it had been, but by the scruff that covered Roosters cheeks as he slept it must have been a hot minute or two.

“Three weeks give or take a few days, Doctors thought it could’ve been a lot longer, something about how your body had been put under a lot of stress.” Bob explained as he monitored your heartbeat, the numbers steady, giving him peace of mind. Always such a numbers guy.

“Admiral Beau is pressing for gross misconduct you know.” Hangman let it slip just as Rooster began to stir awake. “Says your injuries were a direct result of your own actions.”

“Doesn't surprise me.” Coughing slightly as Bob handed you one of those small plastic cups full of water. Helping you take a sip carefully. Holding the back of your head gently for support. “He’s not my biggest stan is he?”

“Nope, but he probably won't get very far, especially since he denied my request to fly aircover–” Jake's eyes were full of rage as he cracked his knuckles. Rooster finally came to as he sat up in his chair, the blanket that covered his legs falling absentmindedly to the ground as he groaned, not in pain–but from something that wasn't comfort. “Ah, this should be good.” Jake smirked as he let out a soft chuckle. Bob couldn't hold back his smile as he did the same, leaning back into his chair as Rooster rubbed his eyes. “Hey Bradshaw– look who’s back in the land of the living.” Jake caught Bradleys attention.

“Oh my god!” Bradley Brashaw had never moved so quickly in his life. Racing across the room like a mad man to get to your side. His eyes full of love and admiration as they welled with tears. The happiest of tears to see your smile again. To see your eyes, big and full of life. “You’re awake.”

“And you have a beard.” You couldn't help but to tease, reaching up to cup Roosters cheek as he leaned in to softly kiss your forehead. Something he had done every day for the last three weeks. “I like it.” Rooster smiled against your forehead before pulling away, gesturing for Hangman to move his ass out of the chair he sat in.

“Can you like, move man?”

“Because you asked so nicely.” Hangman winked as he stood. “C’mon Bobby let's go get a bite to eat, I'm starving.” Bob looked panicked as Hangman gestured to him to get up. You sent him the softest of looks knowing he just didn't wanna leave.

“Robert Floyd, I'll be here when you get back.” The way you said it with such certainly gave Bob peace of mind, you looked

“I know what you felt like when everyone said to leave Sam.” Bob's voice was soft as he looked down at his feet. “Promise you’ll be here.” It wasn't a question, Bob needed you to promise or else he wasn't leaving. Reaching out for his hand you held him as tight as you could, which wasn't all that hard.

“I promise.” It hurt to leave you but he knew he had to give you and Rooster some time alone. Standing to his feet Bob let your hand go as you turned your attention back to Bradley. A soft smile plastering itself across your face as you let your head fall back against the pillow. “Hi–”

“Hi yourself.” Bradley beamed as he kissed the back of your hand over and over again. “Shit I dont even know where to start.” Choking back his tears, Rooster just softened his gaze, taking you in for all your wew. The love of his life. “How are you feeling?”

“Um– yeah I've felt better, I won't lie.” You couldn't take your eyes off Rooster, he looked so damn good with that scruff, that almost beard that covered his cheeks and chin. “I don't remember much at all.”

“What do you remember?” Rooster cooed as he ever so lovingly moved as close to you as the chair would allow him to.

“Um–” You could still hear it, how panicked rooster was when he said he was out of flares. “I remember you saying you were out of flares.” Swallowing to stop yourself from choking up. “I remember the heat from the fire, and the weird way the snow burnt too. I can vaguely remember shoving you at one point but that's all I got.” Rooster nodded softly in response as he sat back in his chair.

“Well boy, do I have a story for you.” Rooster sat with you for what had to have been a good hour and a half explaining in depth what had happened. Everything you had done for him. Doctors and nurses worked around him as they did check ups and small assessments. He held your hand as they drew blood and never left your side.

Bradley Bradshaw told you everything that had happened, his hero. Only excluding one key detail. The fact he’d asked you in full confidence to marry him.

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

Four Months Later.

“Whatcha doin?” The sound of your walking stick had become a common noise Bradley Bradshaw had associated with your presence. He’d hear the gentle thud against the hardwood floor and know you were somewhere close by.

Your arm wrapping around Roosters torso from behind, he hadnt heard you coming. Turning in your arms Rooster faced you– looking slightly down and you tilted your chin up towards him. He’d kept the beard.

“Where is your walking cane?” You had been spending your time at Roosters childhood home. With Carole gone it sat empty most of the time while he was deployed. With recovery still months ahead, it only seemed out of necessity for you to move in with the man you swore to be by your side every step of the way. Even if it were only a temporary thing.

“In the bin where it belows.” Rooster had been doing some remodelling in his spare time. He’d ripped up the old carpet in the living room–knocked out the old splash-back in the kitchen, even changed the majority of the light fixtures throughout the house.

“Y/n–” Rooster smirked as he let his hands fall softly to your waist, playing with the strap that ran across the circumference of your waist–your arm still in a sling from your shoulder surgery months ago.

“Bradley–?” You questioned back with raised eyebrows.

“You had a stroke, we've talked about this.” Rooster sighed as you huffed at him, pulling away.

“I don't need it anymore! Look!” Spinning around in a small circle as you touched your nose. “See-perfectly fine.” It had only been four months since the Uranium Mission and by all accounts you had been recovering well from your injuries. But time was definitely something you were struggling to accept you needed to heal completely. You hated being grounded, hated being on sick leave, hated not being able to go to work.

“Shit someone call Mav, may as well get you back up in the pilot's seat.” Rooster teased as he crossed his arms. He knew better than anyone else that was killing you. But he had to be the voice of reason.

“You aren't funny–” Sending him a glare you turned on your heels, heading down the hallway.

“Just get your cane so we can go will you?” It was sad that your favourite day of the week had become grocery shopping day. You and Rooster would make a whole day of it.

“Fine– but not because you told me to.” You’d start with the list the night before, both going through the fridge freezer and pantry to see what you had left and what you needed.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Chaos!” Then before you’d even make it to the first of three grocery stores plus the specialty butcher—Rooster would stop by the local cafe, picking up the regular coffees and breakfast bagels you’d never get tired of eating.

Meeting Rooster outside by the passenger side door that he had opened and ready for you to jump on in—he’d pull you into him for a loving kiss. This was the domestic bliss he’d craved for so many years.

“Did you get a new air freshener?” Questioning the intense smell of pine that smacked you in the face. His side of the broken heart necklace still hanging from his rear view mirror. “Smells like—“ sniffing, you couldn’t put your finger on it until the memory came flooding back. “Pine—“

“Marry me?”

“Did you hit your head?” What the hell—you hit your head didn't you?”

“I’m serious. Marry me Y/n.”

“Bradley, we’re standing in enemy territory, I don’t know how to get us out of here and you already know whatever we are just isn’t—“

“Don’t think, just do.”

“Okay okay—I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll marry you.”

The smell of pine brought the missing pieces of the puzzle back as Rooster climbed into the driver's seat, fixing his seatbelt.

“Oh my god—“

“What? You good?”

“You’d asked me to marry you?” It came out softer than you thought it would have as you turned to look at Rooster confused. “You asked me to marry you after I found you in the snow—“

“Y/n, listen to me—“ Rooster could physically see the panic rising as your eyes widened in disbelief.

“And all this time you never thought to mention it!?” He’d admit it may have been the wrong thing to do. A judgement call he’d blundered. Rooster knew bits and pieces had started to come back. Not only would you tell him when something would be triggered, but he’d help to curve the nightmares that plagued you.

“Chaos—“ You didn’t want to listen, opening the door of Roosters bronco, stepping out as fast as you could without your cane as you hobbled your way back inside. Rooster hot on your tail. “Wait a second will you.”

“For what exactly! What am I waiting for? Huh? Is all this just some elaborate scheme of yours? I saved your life so I’ll scratch your back huh! Is that it!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t bother to jog my fucking memory! You told me everything else except the part where you literally asked me to marry you!!”

“I can explain why if you would just let me—“ Trying his best to come closer to you but every step Rooster took you’d take one step back. Holding your hand out as if to protect yourself.

“You’re just waiting for the right time to leave again aren’t you, that’s why you didn’t say anything because you took it back, right?” Within an instant your inherent anger turned to sadness at the thought of being left alone again. “Right, Bradshaw? Because who was I to think that you’d stick around—“

“No—“ Rooster had been in this position before where he’d been too much of a coward to speak. He wouldn’t let that happen again. And he wasn’t about to take it so personally this time when you were so quick to accuse him of leaving. Because he had done that, a million times over. “No, I'm not waiting for some miracle moment to come to leave you.”

“Bradley I—“ Finally getting close enough to pull you closer by your hips, the back of the legs against the couch.

“Hey, shut up.” Bradley pulled you down onto his lap as he sat on the couch. “I’m gonna tell you the truth and you're gonna listen and then we’re gonna go get these bagels before I starve to death alright?”

“Okay—“ Bradley was quick to wipe the tears away that fell from your cheeks as you straddled His waist. His hands cupping your cheeks as your forehand rest against his.

“The only reason, and I mean the only reason why I didn’t tell you I’d asked you to marry me was because I wanted to give you a chance to become yourself again before literally becoming someone else entirely.” It was the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Your heart grew so big as Bradley spoke. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you’d have me Y/n but I wasn’t gonna do that to you when you’d just been on death's door. I mean I watched you learn to walk again, I just wanted you to find your way back without thinking about me, thinking about a wedding and all the really stupid and stressful things that come along with that.”

“So, where do we go from here? I mean--”

“I have absolutely no intention to ever leave you again, you're it for me—I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that if I have to.” On that note Rooster was as gentle as he could have been as he helped you off of him, jumping up as he ran down the hall, the small velvet ring box hidden at the back of his sock drawer. Jogging down and hall back to you before he got down on his knees before you.

“Oh Bradley—“ You sobbed. Covering your mouth as you laughed together. “Now!?”

“Waited my entire life to get this right, so—Y/n Chaos Kazansky, will you marry me?”

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

Tags: @lyannaredbird​ @luckyladycreator2​ @skagelynn​ @teacupdreams​ @the-winter-marvel33reblogs​ @mrsjaderogers​​ @katieshook02​​ @thescarletknight2014​​ @justanothermagicalsara​​ @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever​​ @puriini​​ @luckylexie​​ @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2​​ @mizzzpink​​ @unforgettwble​​ @callmemana​​ @lemoonandlestars​​ @mulletmcghee​​ @redqueeen99​​ @bucky-barmes​​ @mak-32​​ @fivsecondsflat​​ @loveless-simp​ @bradleysgirl @mintellaine​ @hannabritta​ @nemtodd-barnes1923​ @bradleysgirl @xoxabs88xox @baju69 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @shanimallina87 @abaker74

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #chaos // bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw angst #top gun bob #top gun hangman #top gun bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n

[prosciuttulipa]

heya! can I request the Bucci gang with a reader who has a siren stand? their stand ability is to sing/screech very loudly making soundwaves that blow away enemies.

Bucci Gang with a Siren Stand

a/n: I've taken liberties to elaborate a bit more on how the Stand works. I think I ended up writing more on how the characters react to the Stand, rather than the user themselves.

Stand Profile: Siren

Close to Mid-range Stand.

Echolocation — the Stand uses its sound waves to detect its surroundings, including the presence of any active Stands.

Sing Mode — the Stand sings a calming song, which lures people in and causes them to drop their guard. It is defenseless and vulnerable to attacks unless it stops singing.

Screech Mode — the Stand uses sound waves to blow away enemies. The wider the range, the weaker its attack. This strength can be improved upon with training.

Bruno Buccellati finds the Siren Stand to be a useful addition to the team, both on the battlefield and in managing his unruly team of misfits. To his surprise, the Siren enjoys maintaining a sense of domesticity. It uses its Sing Mode to call the members back when dinner is ready, and often sings to help members relax for the evening. When Bruno stays up too late working, the Siren's song pulls him to bed, its way of telling him that work can wait till tomorrow.

Leone Abbacchio is visibly disgruntled every time the Siren Stand is used, especially when it's set to Sing Mode. He dislikes Stands that affect people's moods, finds them insidious and much more difficult to defend against. On the battlefield, he trusts the Siren to work alongside them, but he mostly avoids the Stand during down time. He is hostile to its attempts to help him relax. Heaven forbid he let someone else have control over his mental state.

Narancia Ghirga adores the Siren Stand, and finds in it a surrogate mother figure. It is the Siren that takes to Narancia first, immediately deeming the boy as a child it needs to protect. On missions, the Siren takes over Aerosmith's reconnaisance. It is also particularly distressed when Narancia gets hurt, to the point that it will reject direct orders to ensure he is safe. During downtime, it's common to see the Siren singing to Narancia, the boy napping as the Stand pets his hair.

Pannacotta Fugo looks at the Siren, and sees in it things he wishes Purple Haze could be. The Siren has a wide range, but it can focus its attacks into a single beam without any collateral damage. It has the ability to lure people in with its Sing Mode: a trap to enemies, but a homing signal to friends. There is beauty in the Siren's violence, while Purple Haze is destruction incarnate. He is standoffish when the Siren tries to befriend him—it cares for him the same way it does Narancia—hearing it wail softly as he walks away.

Guido Mista tries to flirt with the Siren. It's a pretty humanoid woman, with a lovely voice to match, so why not shoot his shot? He learns his lesson when the Siren blasts him away, nearly rupturing his eardrums. On the battlefield, the Siren's echolocation helps his Sex Pistols find its opponents. However, its Screech Mode occasionally gets in the way, blowing away the Sex Pistols unintentionally. Off the battlefield, the Sex Pistols seem to enjoy playing with the Siren, riding its soundwaves for fun.

Giorno Giovanna uses Golden Experience to fix the member's eardrums, if any of them accidentally get in the Siren's crossfire. He is particularly sensitive to sound, which makes the Siren's Screech Mode difficult for him to deal with. If he's paired with the Siren for any work, he keeps a few pairs of ear plugs on him, just in case. Despite being the youngest one in the gang, the Siren treats him more like the adult members, sensing that the boy can hold his own. The Siren also seems to appreciate when Golden Experience makes flowers, shrieking in delight.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #guido mista #giorno giovanna #jjba bruno #jjba abbacchio #mista jjba #jjba giorno #jjba narancia #jjba fugo #jjba headcanons #my content #—prosciuttulipa content.

[randomfoggytiger]

Alpha In-Depth (Part I): Vibing and Internet Wive-ing

This was an anon request; and the idea intrigued me so much I immediately sat down and started hammering it out. So, here you go!

**Note**: I will ghost edit this later; but I'm working on Part II as I type so I'm in a bit of a hurry.

Surprisingly there is a lot of little details you can weave into an overall narrative in this episode. Alpha follows Arcadia and is followed up by Trevor, all three blending together to create the storm that is Milagro and the revelation that is The Unnatural. And, aside from that, there is still residual Diana-Fowley-under-every-rock suspicion and protection from Scully's side and some self-doubt (in denial) from Mulder's side. Both are half-right and half-wrong.

The Lead Up

I have a different read on S6 than most other meta; namely, that it was a ball compared to their previous seasons. What could have been in S4 (what was hinted in Home) was halted by Scully's cancer; and what couldn't be in S5 was aided by Mulder's "atheism" and Scully's loss and self-doubt (see here.)

But S6 is on the heels of FTF; and, while there was a huge setback in The Beginning with the files being taken from them and Mulder accidentally brushing aside Scully's big hallway confirmation, it's recovered in the name of grim survival: two agents, shoulder to shoulder, mucking through their toilet brush duties together, unbreakable. The shift in Drive is important, establishing Scully's skill at handling all the big mytharc pieces while Mulder is forced into a metal box hurtling down the highway; and Triangle affirms it by having Mulder stumble into another universe while both versions of Scully work overtime to save "Dorothy" and bring him home. By the end of Triangle all is normal: Scully is reaffirmed in her ability to add meaningfully to Mulder, not just his quest; and Mulder acknowledges this more openly, having to rediscover his FTF fears again on the Queen Anne (afraid of never seeing Scully again-- hence the kiss.)

The rest of the season is (mostly) a blast until the drama of Two Fathers/One Son-- which is important (and I wrote about it here) as a one-shot and 1 and 2 as a Typing Personality combo), because it establishes the central flaw of Mulder and Scully's ability to rip him out of it. By the next episode (Agua Mala) Scully is miffed, yes, but more at the storm than at Mulder-- because who would fly down to investigate a sea monster in a hurricane-- but whatever feelings that still lingered about One Son are demolished by the end when Dales forces Mulder to pause and acknowledge Scully's effect on the case. Not that he didn't want to; it's just that Mulder hadn't-- something a future Dales brother points out to him in The Unnatural. By Monday they're teasing and even beaming at each other, etc.

Suffice to say, there is normality restored with the X-Files back. On the heels of Monday there is Arcadia-- and while my posts on Arcadia were a bit dialed up to explore the psychological effects, the result is the same: Mulder and Scully enjoyed their time for different reasons. He enjoyed bullying the neighbors passive-aggressively and she enjoyed the domesticity of it all... but both of them were ready to leave by the end, Mulder having drawn firmer boundaries because of his discomfort with domesticity and Scully having retreated a little due to being teased to death (and almost literally dying.) This leads directly into the episode we're breaking down today:

Alpha

Ah-- Alpha, my Alpha... if only you weren't so badly written or were vastly more interesting.

The first shot of Mulder is him adding photo evidence to his corkboard, intently focusing on the crime. Scully appears in the hallway, having doubled back at some point from leaving the building, checking back in with him-- "Aren't you going home?", a question she may not have asked since Paper Hearts (correct me if I'm wrong.) It establishes that she and Mulder are on completely comfortable terms; and she's curious about his movements and well-being outside of the office, which is opposite to the prevailing meta that they were tense or on bad terms at this time.

"I AM home," Mulder cheerfully responds, still intensely focused, "just feathering the nest."

A fitting follow-up to Arcadia, which was an emphasis on a "normal", suburban home life. Mulder is still firmly rooted in his basement, not yet ready to step out on a Saturday night with his girl and baseball.

"Watcha got?" Scully slings out, interest piqued.

Mulder spells out the case, with Scully zipping out her own "Mind if I ask the cause of death?" in a scene not dissimilar to their quippy exchange in Fight Club (if more low-key and not as RST-y.) He's delighted she's involving herself this eagerly, hiding little smirks and smiles between his rapid-fire sentences and throwing out a quirky inflection to his "multiple bite wounds" detail, adding some pizazz to his delivery.

Scully's skepticism peaks when Mulder mentions the suspect is a dog; and she walks (read: leans on one leg then the other, seesawing into the room reminiscent of a teasing little girl on a playground) into the room to see the evidence herself and disprove it.

Mulder brandishes the X-Files enticingly ("That alone is not what drew me to this case") just out of her reach while he trots out the juiciest part ("The two men were found inside the container.") Scully plays along, taking the casefile when he dramatically relinquishes it--

until Mulder tells a joke so bad (repeating "doggone" thrice with various inflections, each more emphasized than the last, so that Scully will know he told a joke and smirk at his genius) that it spoils the mood and kicks her into full-on skepticism mode. Her "Yeah, I got it" is hilarious and deadpan; but it's a gentle "yeah, you stink" rather than her full-powered sarcasm-- and she bites off a smile of her own for "getting" him by a quick question about the investigation.

"Did anybody, um, examine the victim, Mulder?"

Scully's little quip amuses herself and Mulder, who gives a little head tilt in a 'well, y'know...' kind of way. Her amusement continues despite her charmed exasperation.

Mulder has witnesses, experts, and an outside source; but Scully doesn't budge. "Mulder, I don't have to tell you how absolutely and completely wrong that seems." He gives her a two confirmational head bobs and a few "yeah"s and "mhm"s, unphased by the nonsensical nature of the case.

Their vibe is very S7: lots of "yeahs", Scully sauntering around confidently and familiarly butting into Mulder's business after hours... it's domestic, really. Arcadia was the new wedding and honeymoon, settling in and sifting their lives together; Alpha is an exploration of "the couple"'s first cross-purposes disagreement (in this case, over the woman Karin); and Trevor will explore the complicated familial dynamics of two messed up people having a child. After those three episodes back-to-back, and no change in Mulder, the desperation of Milagro makes clearer sense.

Mulder KNOWS how ridiculous this case is.

Scully: "You're not going to tell me that a dog did this?"

Mulder: *a pause to consider*: "Bad dog."

Scully: "...Yeah."

At the first crime scene, Mulder leads the charge while Scully scuffles off to do some footwork of her own.

When Mulder questions the man in charge of the crime scene team, we learn a bit of backstory--

Man: "Did you ever own a dog, sir?"

Mulder: "Yeah."--

confirming a lot of meta speculation about Mulder's childhood (well, that and there might be a picture of a dog in Tena's house somewhere... if I recall the lore correctly.)

Mulder does a goofy little "gotcha" and hand clap over the man's not-so-subtle dog poop answer to his questions; and Scully, though not particularly fond of poop jokes, does almost crack a smile of her own... if only because Mulder stepped into that one (heh heh, puns.)

Scully takes over the interrogation while Mulder retraces her steps and stares into the same emptied box. ...Until he hears that there's a cryptozoologist involved in this case and scurries over, eager to get into the more outlandish aspects of mythological animals.

Scully's facial reaction-- "oh no"-- is perfect as he winds up and starts to rattle off his myths and monsters spiel; but he's put on pause when she ruthlessly cutting his speech down in the prime of its life with a smirk on her face.

As the case rattles on-- a dog attack in BELLFLOWER??? really?-- and Mulder scopes out the oddities about the newest crime scene (while avoiding dog feces and making a "Watch your step" joke to Scully. She heeds his warnings because she is, after all, practical),

In their exchange of theories, Mulder congratulates Scully on figuring out where he's going with his newest leap: "You get a biscuit, Scully." Scully stores her comeback for later, content (for now) to simply laugh at his idea of a dog with human intelligence.

A sidenote: Scully always, always holds the umbrella (Irresistible, Small Potatoes, etc., and here. Nice continuity.)

This leads them to Berquist Kennels, where Scully springs out her comeback pun, having lain in wait for the first golden opportunity: when Mulder responds "Actually, it's more of a behavior problem" to a contractor's questions, Scully smirks, realizing this is her moment (even the stars aligned so that she is accidentally holding her hands in front of her, clutched, like a devious little mastermind), and cuts in with the speed of light: "Yeah, he doesn't listen and he chews on the furniture."

Mulder, as shown above, is tickled-- but he's more caught out than overjoyed, huffing out a "heh" noise before digging for his badge.

An Odd Moment That Portents More

An odd moment happens: Mulder is completely at ease in Karin's office until Scully makes a sarcastic remark ("You sure this woman's not an authority on bats?"), his mood shifting a little.

He jovially makes a "tsk" sound, and reaches out in a "c'mon, none of that" gesture that almost fully envelops an unsuspecting Scully in a hug. He gets as far as grasping both shoulders before his partner turtles up, tucking her chin in and going straight and stiff as a board.

Scully's expressions shift swiftly from shock to realization that Mulder never gets this grabby without a motive (having just gone through an entire touchy-feely case where Mulder sort of used her as a cuddly prop to forward his sneaky motives.) Cynicism creeps in, and she begins to suspect that he has something to hide, searching through the room in earnest and starting to nail him down about "this expert."

Mulder, meanwhile, is not reading the room-- ironic, yes-- coasting through life unbothered while keeping crucial information back form Scully to determine her either way (which ends up shooting himself in the foot, because Scully's first impression of Karin is not a positive one.)

When Scully finds out he knew more about Karin than he initially let on, she is even more suspicious and not at all pleased... and Mulder knows he's in the doghouse (heheheh.)

THIS explains his weird arm grab earlier: Mulder knows Scully is viciously jealous, personally and professionally; and had tried to detour Scully from getting snippy about his new friend-- wanting his partner to trust and get along with her, a social outcast and someone he is already protective of. We saw how his last "friendship" shook out with Diana Fowley (not to mention his former collaborations with very helpful women in the field, i.e. Detective White in Syzygy and Bambi Berenbaum in War of the Coprophages); and this seems to be a redemption attempt on his part. A "see? I can make good friends-- I'm a good judge of character" mea culpa.

Mulder had even read Karin's books before even meeting her (an interesting parallel to reading Scully's thesis in the Pilot); but Scully is pleased when Mulder answers her "Better than human??" sniff over Karin's book with "She's not a real people person", giving her hope that this lady will be a very disinterested professional. She saunters away, playfulness restored (for now.)

Mulder is fidgety, holding something back; but the full jig is up when Scully finds Karin's 'I Want To Believe' poster.

"Well, she seems to have made a connection to you."

Karin now enters, not noticing Mulder's handwave at first. Then Mulder does something here he usually never does willingly:

"Karin? I'm Fox."

He's says it gently, establishing this is how they'd forged a connection between them; and Scully, savvy as she is, recognizes this and doesn't draw any attention to it. But still. (Not only did she have to content with Dr. Bambi and Fox, but now she has to contend with canid enthusiast Karin and Fox.)

Mulder is genuinely enthusiastic-- "Nice to finally meet you"-- sticking out his hand again with sparkling eyes (ala meeting his hero in Space.) Scully is... less enthusiastic.

When Karin realizes Mulder had come to consult her she asks, "Is there any other reason you came here?" It's sad when you consider her advanced illness and desperate wish for a loving-- or any-- human connection before her death; but this is Mulder pre-The Unnatural: everything is buried in work with no time for socializing.

Scully catches all of this, of course, without any of the context. She knows there is more going on, firmly pressing Mulder on the "friend" claim when Berquist leaves the room.

He admits that he and Karin met online; and Scully pauses, making sure her subtext meaning is clear: "Online."

Mulder catches it and closes his eyes, frustrated he'd fallen right into this pitfall. He firmly insists, "Two professionals exchanging information." Scully knows he's being honest... so that only leaves Karin's motive unexplored. And from what she's already seen of her (antisocial, not a people person) it's very unlikely that this woman's motives would extend only to professional interest.

Another murder, another crime scene.

Another Karin Berquist sighting, another opportunity for jealousy and suspicion.

Scully sees her coming and excuses herself-- "I don't think wolf woman is here to see me, so I'll..."-- not above giving the two "friends" some alone time (which reminds me of Mulder's "Don't say I didn't do nothing fer yeh", though it's a bit of a stretch.) She still tags along with Mulder back to the dog ranch where the three do some research, keeping her grouchy feelings in check until she sees proof positive that Karin is, indeed, amorous for her partner.

Scully then begins to grill Karin on her shift in opinions on the case (Mulder watching their pin-pong match with interest in both ideas), rolling her eyes at Berquist's assertion she's "just going by the facts."

When Karin explains the Chinese myth pertinent to the case, ending with the statement "...capable of opening doors, stealing wives, and disappearing into thin air. Maybe there is some basis in reality for this trickster myth", Scully snidely follows up with a pointed "Oh, I'm... fairly certain there is" while looking from Karin to Mulder, which earns her a measured look from Mulder. Scully turns from her waspish mood and this discussion, mocking the idea internally and recovering some of her former mood as she steps to the car.

Mulder follows her out, not irritated so much as confused; and his question-- "Everything okay, Scully?"-- sets her off.

"How well do you know this woman, Mulder?"

"How well do you know anybody you meet on the internet? She likes to talk."

Scully is appeased by his rationality, stepping back a little from her emphatic (read: aggravated) interrogation: "Well, I question her motives."

Mulder divines her interpretation, flattered but dismissive when he asks: "Are you suggesting that this case was the way to get me out here to meet me?" Off of Scully's confirming-but-not-admitting expression, he responds, "I'm flattered but, uh--" and does a little, flattered head shake.

He insists that Karin didn't kill a bunch of people to draw him to her; but Scully insists that "She's enamored of you, Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too."

Mulder's not buying it.

Two interesting things:

#1. A rather dark line of thinking for Scully, who would tie even extreme acts of violence to the lengths a woman would go to win Mulder's love or even his attention. This will ring more and more true in Milagro as it exposes Scully's desperation to be the center of his attention, too.

#2. Scully is alluding to this moment, yes; but more broadly, Diana Fowley lies right behind them with her treachery and cunning. Scully knows that her partner is easily manipulated, but it wasn't until the Fowley arc that she realized how much Mulder will believe on hopeful faith and blind loyalty. Since then, she's become his aggressive guardian. This will be immensely important in Part II.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #x-files #xfiles #the x files #Vibing and Internet Wive-ing #Alpha In-Depth #Part I #analysis #Alpha #S6 #Mulder #Scully #relationship #Karin Berquist #meta #xf meta #In-Depth #Diana Fowley #mine

[nerdieforpedro]

Canta para mi (You sing for me)

Nuestras Canciones (Our Songs)

Santiago Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC)

Main Masterlist / Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Fic is teens and up. My entire blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 593

Summary: A night like many Amalia shares with her husband Santiago. They intertwine with each other. Her voice explains her love for him.

Warnings: None - just domestic fluff

Notes: I promised it would get sweeter, it is with a tinge of melancholy. ☺️

Though she couldn't play an instrument, Amalia used her voice. Daily. It changed depending on whoever she spoke to and what the subject matter was. 

Soft. Stern. Curious. Kind. Jovial, sullen, compassionate, alluring, indifferent.

“So many things you do with it all day. Forget all that! Come! Let’s sing!” Santiago had told her, wrapping his hands around his wife’s ample hips in the living room and leading her to dance to one of her favorites Stevie Wonder “As.” She laughed and called him ‘loco’ to which he replied “You love it querida!” And nuzzled his bushy beard into the nape of her neck, causing her to giggle. The pair floated around the room laughing and singing to a playlist Santi had set up for her on tough days. The speaker would blast the music throughout the house.

When their dances would end or they’d just get tired enough, they’d sit on the couch and cuddle into one another. Sometimes Santiago would remain the big spoon and other times Amalia’s legs would be spread so Pope could lay his back against his wife's soft belly and breasts. She’d mingle her fingers in his curls as another hand made small circles over his chest. They would remain connected like this for a few hours. If one of them drifted off to sleep, it was the other’s responsibility to wake them and get them to bed.

On one such night, Amalia’s hand was strumming her husband’s chest as she played with his salt and pepper curls. Their color had changed but not their silken texture. “I thought of something for you Santi. Escucha por favor (Listen please).” Pope remained silent as he heard his wife's voice ring out into the room.

My strong anchor when I feel adrift

Kind words when I arrive

Beaming laughter teasing me

Even when I was scared of myself

You held onto me

Never let me go

Forever etched in memory

The day you said you’d never leave

You’ve wiped so many of my tears

I hope I’ve been a balm to your aches

Brought clarity to your muddled waters

Mi esposo Mi corázon Mi vida (My husband, my heart, my everything)

Te amo Santiago (I love you Santiago)

He had closed his eyes while he listened to her voice. It was clear she had worked on it and it wasn’t a spur of the moment song. That made it all the more special. His wife had written a song for him, something only his like she was. Santiago hadn’t realized that his beard was a little wet from his tears. He only knew when he removed his glasses to rub his eyes. Amalia placed both her hands on her husband’s chest and kissed his forehead, his bountiful curls tickling her chin. “Let go Santiago. It’s just you and me. I’m here with you. You’re safe, you’re home.” Quiet sobs of Amalia’s husband now filled the room where there had been music. She let him continue until he fell asleep, remaining with him until the sun rose the next morning. 

“One night of uncomfortable sleep is plenty to give him for what he’s given me.” Amalia told herself when she woke in the morning. Pope’s eyes were puffy but had a subtle glow to them. He was already awake and handed her coffee prepared as she liked it.

“Even after all these years you still surprise me cariño. You’ll sing to me another night won’t you?” Amalia nodded and took her first sip of the day. Bold. Rich. Sweet. Creamy. Warm.

Previous: Verse One

Next: Verse Three

Santi's Peaches 🍑: @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @megamindsecretlair @pedritapascal @rhoorl @dameron-grant-spector @pamasaur @sin-djarin @i-own-loki @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @readingiskeepingmegoing @saturn-rings-writes @yorksgirl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose

#fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #Santiago gracia x plus size OFC #Neustras Canciónes #Our songs

[witch-hazels-musings]

(please, this event is so cute and all the headers are so aesthetic ㅠㅠ)

hi there hazel, i just had a nice cup of coffee and four particular symbols lingered in there: an anchor, a square, a boat and a ladder… ah, this scent really reminds me of home…

since doing a reading on my own is no fun, i wanted to ask my fellow witch to join me ♡

say, hazel, do you mind diving a reading for me?✧.*

aroma: coffee (domestic) | symbols: square (comfort), boat (unexpected visits), anchor (stable love life), ladder (travel) 

:: childe x gn reader | sfw - fluff | tasseography event | thank you, F, for your help on this (I needed your guidance more than you’ll know!) 

“Haha, that was incredible!” you shouted, fingers gripping on Childe’s clothes with excitement. 

“You know us, we make an incredible team,” he beamed, radiant eyes flashing across your face. 

“We do.” You grinned as you reached up to rub a bit of red off his cheek. The color smudged so you pressed harder until it was gone. “You’d think for someone as skilled as you are, you’d learn not to get so messy.” 

“Ah,” he began, the back of his hand running across his mouth and removing a few other droplets you missed, “but you’ve never seen how magnificent it looks on a snow-white backdrop.” 

“How poetic, but you do remember we have to go into town later? I don’t think they’ll appreciate all ... well, this.” 

“Maybe, but they’d think twice about messing with us,” he winked making you roll your eyes. 

“Mmhm,” you patted his chest before slipping away from him. The adrenaline in your veins still pulsing through you. Even though the enemies were long gone, you could still feel the power of your strikes, the strength of your legs as you dodged out of the way. It was such a rush that you had to bounce to get rid of the extra energy. “Man, that was a good fight.” 

"Haha, it was heart pounding. We worked up quiet a sweat!” 

“It was awesome - like when we bumped into each other but you rolled me over your back to get a better position. I turned and slashed that thing, like, ‘ah!’” you demonstrated by swiping your arm across the now empty field.  

“How about you? It’s been a long time since I saw someone slide between my legs like that just to knock their enemy on the ground.” 

“It was a split-second tactic,” playfully, you bit your lip as you looked at him, “did it startle you?” 

“HA!” He scoffed, hand on his stomach as he laughed at the ridiculousness of your comment, “a warrior must be ready for anything. Even a scrawny one like you couldn’t throw me off my game.” 

“Whatever. Rude.” You shoved him but he didn’t seem affected by your comment. Honestly, even though he was poking fun, you were having a blast remembering it. The more you thought the more excited you were as the highlights of the fight flashed in your mind. “Well what about that crazy backward shot you pulled off?!” 

“Oh yeah, that was a little something new I was trying out.” 

“It was so cool! I got a little worked up just watching you.” Childe’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, he rubbed the back of his head as if your attention was ruffling his ego a little to much, or maybe he had other thoughts fluttering around in his mind.

“Come on.” He finally said after grabbing your head and forcibly spinning you around. It made you stumble but he ensured you wouldn’t fall. “You know, with your capabilities, we might just find ourselves conquering the world in no time.” 

You burst into laughter, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. There are some powerful fighters out there.” 

“Everyone has a weakness,” he explained as he threw his arm over your shoulder. The two of you started the walk back to the city and while you tried to remove a few blood stains from your clothes, he let his thoughts wander. "if you keep fighting you can easily find your opponents. And if you were to face them one-on-one, there’s not chance you’ll fail.” 

“Maybe for you. I still have a long way to go.” 

“Um, I admit that’s true -” 

“Hey!” 

“But, but!” he cut back in, chuckling softly at your serious face, “as long as you’ve got me, we can’t lose.” 

“What happens if I don’t got you, hmm? ” you asked, slipping out from under his arm and dashing forward on the path. You were playing, teasing, but the question was lingering in the air. 

“That’ll be an interesting day indeed,” he replied, picking up his pace so he could hoist you over his shoulder and give you a little shake. 

You yelped, your voice struggling to make it through glee-filled laughter, “I just cleaned my clothes!” 

“I’ll buy you new ones!” and you were sure he would. 

all works & ideas created by Hazel, recreations, reposts not allowed even with credit provided 

#witch hazels event #hazels event - tasseography #tasseography event #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe

[dragonofthenorth]

Can you tell me any care tips you have to help a Agressive Hydreigon get used to Domestic living. Hyde(named for his occasional flipping between docile and angry behavior) has been with me for 4 years, he was originally the pokemon of a particularly horrible hunter who drugged his pokemon to make them stronger as well as dull down their behavior, making them basically obedient puppets, he was raised to be aggressive to take down wild pokemon quickly and with out mercy.

The hunter tried hunting down a Rayquaza, which was mega evolution capable(recent studied show that only certain Rayquaza are capable of mega evolving at all, likely descendents of family groups that were exposed by the Kalosian Ultimate Weapon's blast when it entered the upper atmosphere. I was able to help the Rayquaza by using my dad Keystone to help it mega evolve. It left afterwards, and we apprehended the hunter, but Hyde's pokeball broke, and the rush of the battle had flushed the drugs out of his system, and he started rampaging, my Sylveon, Varian, and Audino, Varia, were able to apprehend him and I quickly caught him in a ultra ball, which I later swapped him into a Friend ball at the pokemon center.

Due to the species natural alignment with aggressive behavior because of human pressure in the past, as well as being under pressure in general(being the hunting pokemon of that hunter), its been a long process to be able to even pet his snout, much less show give him an affectionate pet under the jaw. The fact I have a few fairy types, doesn't help him because of his instincts basically screaming at him 'fight, danger, predators, fight, Danger, danger, run, fight'. I know that Hydreigon are receptive to music, especially emotionally inspiring music, so I've built his Den, yes, i built him a fully dedicated den in the backyard with concrete and rubar, with speakers inside to softly play a soundtrack of emotionally inspiring songs, primarily songs like Under Pressure, True Kinda Love, and even the Trainer Anthem. I know he likes them cause when hes in his more docile moods I can hear him humming and purring the melody of the songs.

The doctors at the pokemon center think he might have some condition, I forget the name, but its basically, blind and irrational anger that'll set him into a tantrum, anger even he won't understand, one of the more cynical ones immediately said he should be taken from me and put down, some thing I near immediately attacked him for even saying. His colleagues were not happy with him. I also have a Slowking that I've placed into a Therapy pokemon teaching Program, Hyde had a Slowking Therapist before, but he's recently been getting less and less receptive at times, his aggression rising randomly out of nowhere and nearly attacking Her(the slowking therapist). So I figured having a familiar face also help would work, plus my Slowking, Orion, is an experienced battler unlike the original therapist, and can stop Hyde from going on a rampage when he loses control with Hypnosis and Psychic, and Baton Passing Calm Mind boosts.

Hyde isn't one of my battlers. He's been placed on some meds for the sake of the Dissociative anger condition he has. And he's been starting to just try to avoid people and other pokemon in general, something I see as some form of process, cause he clearly doesn't want anyone near him if he goes into another Irrational Blind rage.

There have been only one instance I've battled with him, when that Hunter came back for revenge. I was nearly wiped off the face of the earth by not one, not two, but THREE HYPER BEAMS, all with the Delivery Factor(i have a post under my (#sean's expanded pokefacts) tag) turned off, then Hyde comes flying in, and takes the hit, not only saving my life, but putting him on the literal line between life and death, he had so much of his scales and skin burned off, I could see HIS RIBS, its a miracle he didn't get completely incinerated, much less didn't keel over then and there. But he just stood up, looked back at me, and turned towards the Hunter and his pokemon, and roared. It felt like the very world was roaring out in defiance, to protect. I cried so much through out the battle, Hyde wouldn't back down no matter how much I begged him, he just kept fighting, he listened to every battle order I had except to return, he even Used the move Return, and OHKO the Mega Tyranitar(i have no clue how this fucker got a Mega Wave bracelet, that knockoff Keystone that basically mind controls pokemon it mega evolves) with it.

He won the entire battle, and when we got him to the pokemon center, he was taken into Intensive care for two weeks, and somehow, despite everyone thinking he'd be dead on night one, he survived for two weeks and made a miraculous recovery. This was three months ago, and I've only just recently been able to pet him on the snout.

Anything you can recommend I do? I've been thinking of trying to do music myself, like that Ryuki guy in Alola.

(-note, the Cynical guy that said Hyde should be killed, tried to kill him while he was in Intensive care, full on tried to Murder Hyde with fucking poison, while he was practically half dead, after saving my God damn life. When he was caught, thankfully before he could do anything, I may have attacked him, utterly shattered his jaw and shoulder. He was also Fired and completely humiliated, he'll never be a doctor again. I also didn't get in trouble for attacking him, I did get a Warning from Officer Jenny, but even she was smiling at what I did to that ass)

Wow that's, a lot.

Well first off is try to keep the fairy types away, good job in getting him his own space and giving him something he really enjoys, that being music. It seems as if he's bonded to you rather well if he was willing to take that massive of a hit for you.

Now I hate to say it but you might not ever get on the same level of, well affection as me and my hydreigons, you said yourself they're wired to more aggressive tendencies, all dragons are tbf, hydreigons just get a worse rep because dark type. And especially with Hyde it sounds like with his past he might never want affection like you're used to. The closest you might ever get is touching his snout. He's a dragon, and dragons, especially dragons that have been hurt like he has, might never trust again.

Now, personally I'd take him to a dragon specialist, if you can find a hydreigon specialist I'd take him there @ask-professor-dracaena is a good resource and very good at handling very aggressive mons. I'm good with the normal day to day stuff but if there's hormone issues or the fact that there is some residual damage from the drugs he was on for victini knows how long. They'd be able to help.

#dragon of the north #pokemon #trainersona #ask away #hydreigon #trainer-sean

[unironicallyresurrected]

Do you have any Royai HCs? :0

oh gosh… hold on, i gotta pull into twelve-year-old-me’s brain (gotta give credit where credits is due)

i don’t think that their relationship is wholly romantic—i love reading into it as a queerplatonic, funky toxic codependency thing yknow? they are in love <3

they are soo transgender coded i am blasting them with my transgender beam and it is working (they are transmasc to me but I love all transgenderisms all the time)

neither of them is super into pda but they tend to be very physically comfortable if that makes sense? riza especially likes to just sort of lie on top of roy for hours on end.

feel like black hayate deserves a bullet point of his own. he is their son

being so long in the military means that they take any chance at domesticity that they get—roy is chief cook whenever he comes over. he is a big fan of those cheesy holiday dishtowels with the puns. team mustang has gifted him at least one kiss the cook aprons in his lifetime

anyway that was way longer than I anticipated but this was fun to think about—thank you anon!!

#sparrowsquawks #fma

[hezeishere]

Birthdays

Villain: Is talking all you do!?

BM: Of course not! I do magic, superheroics, travel blogging, domestic blogging, anti-logging blogging, and…hm, I think I’m forgetting one.

Villain: DIE!!

(The villain blasts a powerful beam of energy at Bamboozle-Man, causing a massive explosion in the process. As the little pieces of debris fall from the sky, the villain lowers their still smoking hand in satisfaction.)

Villain: Hmph. I knew there was a way to shut him up.

(The villain turns to walk away but stops dead in their tracks when they hear a family voice begin to speak from behind them.)

BM: Oh, I remember now! Birthdays! I do birthdays!

(The villain pivots to face the now clearing smoke of their last attack only to see tBamboozle-Man totally unscathed.)

BM: And based on the last few seconds, something tells me you won’t be requiring my services this year.

#bamboozledagain #bamboozled #oc tag #oc stuff #oc dialogue #birthday #superhero #blogging #travel blog #logging

[torireactstohdgstories]

Lost & Found by Darkfalli - Chapter 2 : Domestication?

Click here to see the story

"... Until the door to my room opened." Hey, no, don't the Affini know how to knock? Come on Abies, I thought you were better than that! I can excuse domesticating terrans but I draw the line at not knocking x)

Aw, he brought her breakfast and everything! Okay, so, he is moving her around like a little doll, but he's being so gentle, and giving her time to react and refuse, and that's nice! To be fair, she is not resisting at all, and the Affini like that, I think.

Omg that poor girl... "They cared!" Yes, they care, hun! I really wanna know more about Evie's past, though, I can kinda guess what happened...

Oh! OH SHIT ! I don't think Abies meant to do that!!!

Phew! He fixed it! Aw man, poor Evie, that's some bad dysphoria! :/

Aaaand, she's blaming herself now...

Hah, he did a Kaa! Hypnosis eyes are such a cool thing, I'm glad he helped her calm down ^^

"You're rather obviously a seed." I kinda like the parallel with transidentity and the notion of "egg", considering how many transgender characters are in those stories. The two situations are very different though...

"The xeno was spending so much time with me rather than like invasion stuff." What, are you expecting him to fly around in a little saucer, beaming people up and lazer-blasting landmarks?

"I needed to find a way to stop being a burden to them." Girl, you say that and then insist you're not a seed? If that's the only reason you don't want to be a floret, then you might want to do some introspection.

"I-If you're doing it to people I need to like know in case it's bad and I need to like help stop it…" That was adorably honest, and also a very naïve thing to say x)

"They flowed out like a sea of green and reformed..." I like the feel of that sentence. Abies's form feels so fluid and interesting...

~

Evie is definitely into the idea of becoming a floret. Litterally her only argument is that it might be a burden to her master. I think that if your reaction to the idea of being a pet is not "I wouldn't like that", then you might be more into it than you think.

Also, I love how honest and straightforward Abies is. He explained everything and doesn't hide anything as far as I can tell. He might want to ease up juuuust a bit on the teasing, but I must admit Evie is adorable, getting all flustered.

#human domestication guide #hdg #lost & found #darkfalli #story blogging

[asteroshearts]

Midnight Snacking

Dad!Levi x Reader

Domestic AU, Modern AU, pure fluff, unnamed young daughter, based off this reddit post

Kitchen lights flip on and two pairs of eyes stare at him in horror.

"You criminals." Your husband stands like a pillar at the doorframe, bedhead still intact, and eyes still squinting from grogginess, yet the glare he sends you could freeze the water you're boiling.

An embarrassed squeak escapes your lips while your daughter, not even tall enough to look over the counter, gasps dramatically. "The prison warden is here!" you whisper. Shooing your baby away from the stove, you smile and go, "Hurry! Hide!"

The sound of giggles wake Levi up, and he wastes no time snatching the running brat from beside him. He easily snatches her up like a sack of flour and holds her underneath a single arm.

"Papa! Nooo!" More giggles fill the night as she thrashes underneath his arm. Tiny hands attempt to tickle his stomach, but Levi doesn't even flinch.

Marching over to you like a war captain, you let out an "Eep!" and quickly move.

The blocks of noodles splash into the boiling water and your beam is absolutely mischievous. A criminal, Levi thinks again, an absolute criminal.

One charge for breaking the rules and midnight snacking, and another for leaving the bed so cold when Levi woke and you were nowhere to be found.

"Aha! It's too late now! The noodles are already in the water!" Your finger points at him and your smile grows wider. Because as much as Levi hates your midnight snacking habits, he absolutely hates wasting food even more. You're absolutely unabashed at going behind your beloved Levi's back to make unhealthy late-night snacks for you and your mini-me.

Although your husband wasn't a health nut by any means, nor did he police what you ate, he wanted to live as long of life with you as possible, and that meant telling you to cut it out with the instant ramen at night.

Not that you ever listened to him, clearly.

Your little girl wiggles her legs faster, and scared that she was too close to the stove, Levi lets her down. Skipping over to your slide, her smile matches yours and you two share a high-five to cries of triumph.

"Good job, Mama!" your baby cheers.

"It's all thanks to you, baby!" you congratulate. "You'd distract your papa again for me next time too, right?"

"Yea! Yea!"

"Oh?" Levi calls, arms crossed. Bumping your hip aside with his, he shoos you away from the stove and takes over without a word. "I'm sure the judge would like to hear that when your mom is locked away for 1,000 years for eating ramen at midnight. Against the rules." He says this pointedly, sending you an extra glare for that fact. Although his baby looked exactly like how he did when he was younger, according to Kuchel, her personality was all you, and you two had a blast constantly breaking his "laws" as you called them.

"What?" you play along, giggling. "How come I'm the only one getting jail time?" You trail after your husband as he heads to your silver fridge for some bok choy and green onions because heaven knows that you'd just crack a couple eggs in your ramen and call it a day. He'd force you to have some vegetables with it, at least. "Our baby is clearly in on it too!"

"That brat was probably forced to commit the crime." You stare down as Levi's face is merely inches away from yours. "You're the main instigator. Brat, please set the table."

"Okay, Papa!" The sound of opening drawers and rattling cutlery fills his ears.

Holding back the heat on your face, even after all these years of marriage, you continue with the charade. "Not true! I was going out cause I wanted a snack and found our baby awake too because she was hungry." Wrapping arms around his waist as he waits for the five minutes to be up, you place your chin on his shoulder. "You wouldn't let an innocent little girl starve, would you?"

"All I see are two brats." Your arms remain comfortably around him as he begins to cut the vegetables, dropping them in, and stirring the pot gently so that the noodles would break up.

Of course, you two would wake up at the same time, he thinks. Your daughter is you, down to your exhausting eating habits.

Levi knows not to say this out loud, however, because you are sure to argue with him.

She's you, you'd say back. Down to every eyelash.

"Brat, do you want any meat?" Levi asks, opening up the fridge again.

"Fishcake, Papa!" He sighs and nods once, reaching into your freezer for the pack that you always have stocked.

"What do we say, baby?" you ask back.

"Uh...Please, Papa!" Wide grey eyes stare back at you two for confirmation. With a nod, she beams again and waves her arms.

"You're welcome," Levi's soft voice answers back.

When the time is up, Levi serves up the ramen that you left his embrace for and carefully hands the two bowls to you.

Your daughter ended up setting down chopsticks and spoons at the living room coffee table instead of the dining table, probably because she wanted to get some TV in before you put her down to sleep again.

Another rule broken, it looks like. Before you had your daughter, Levi would sooner stop drinking tea than have you eat in his precious living room, but it looks like now you weren't the only person spoiled rotten by him. Oh well, he'd just force you to clean his pristine carpet thrice afterward.

By the time you and your daughter sit down, Levi has already cleaned all pots, bowls, and scrubs the countertop just in time to plop down right in the middle of you two. Huffing, your eyes soften at the sight of your tired husband, but he remains with you two regardless. With your free hand, you carefully brush away some of his bedhead. Closing his eyes contently, he leans into your touch.

"Say 'Thank you for the food, Papa!'" you tell your daughter.

"Thank you for the yummy food, Papa!" your baby calls.

"Thank you, 'Vi," you say from the other side of him.

Leaning forward, you two press two kisses on either side of his cheeks in sync, complete with your cheesy, "Muah!" And although your daughter's kiss is wet from the ramen broth, Levi doesn't cringe or immediately move to wipe it away. Laughing quietly, you take your napkin and you carefully wipe it away for him.

"Do you want some, Papa?" your baby asks carefully. Looking down at the large grey eyes blinking up at him, Levi sighs and shakes his head.

Carefully patting her head, he adds, "I already brushed my teeth, thank you though. Make sure you brush your teeth extra well after this, okay?"

Shrugging, she smiles and continues to eat. She doesn't seem bothered at all that she didn't get to share with her precious Papa. You two share the same love for instant ramen, it seems.

You turn on the new Disney movie about that red panda, and you promise that whatever you don't finish tonight, you two can finish tomorrow. It's the weekend, and your daughter has been doing well in school, so there was no harm in letting her have these small wins.

And although you and your baby take your sweet time eating (but before the noodles get bloated, of course), Levi stays by your side. After complaining all about how you forced him to get out of your warm and comfortable bed, Levi seems to make no move to head back even after his work is done.

Eventually, amidst your small comments about the story's plotline, and your daughter's gasps of awe at the animation, Levi's head slowly falls on your shoulder.

Looking down, you notice his crossed arms and his closed eyes. Small, controlled breaths escape his parted lips.

When it is time for bed, you wash your bowls, check up on your daughter when she brushed her teeth, and tuck her into bed. Pressing ten quick kisses on her forehead, you make sure her head is propped up so that she doesn't get indigestion in the morning.

Turning off her bedroom lights, you walk past your bedroom. On the couch is your handsome husband, curled up in a little ball with the blanket strewn around him.

Your bed is large, warming, and comfortable for sure, you think, but it doesn't have the love of your life with you.

Carefully crawling in the empty space Levi has left, you wedge yourself into any curve of his body possible before your arms wrap around his waist, comfortable and snug.

And before you lose consciousness, you were sure, above all else, that you felt strong arms tighten around you too.

"This is all your fault."

Face puffy in the morning due to the ramen, you can only pout in silence as long scolding monologues fill the air. Sitting on your sinks' countertop, you let your husband say anything he wishes as he carefully rolls the jade roller around your face and face mask to help you de-puff.

#levi x reader #aot x reader #levi #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #snk #snk x reader #dadvi #dad levi #levi fluff #hes an acts of service man through and through #so i have a final tmr #and i wrote this because i made noodles at midnight #if anyone wants pics of my precious noodles just ask me legit

[muffindaddystyles]

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

.

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

..

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

..

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

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