#The simpsons angst

[kainekillinggod]

"No Child Left Behind"

Simpsons angst I suppose,,,,,

[dvcky-duck]

hi guys :3

ghudjk

[smibberz]

I don't know if you've watched it yet, but.. in S25, there's an episode called "Luca$", where Snake tells Bart how much he loves his son Jeremy and just wants a better life for him < 3 an art suggestion if you wanted, it would be based on this cute photo of the two of them on his cell phone *_* =^ ^=

[saltsicklover]

Prompt Request: Sneak Peak

Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Read the Complete Story HERE

I got sent this amazing ask and I got started working on it before life decided to become ridiculous and get in the way off all of my writing time. So, I wanted to post a little sneak peak of it, as it is still in progress.

I hope you like it, @inkandarsenic !

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand. 

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on. 

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards," 

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap. 

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud. 

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

[whohasthecards]

What if the dagger squad were stationed as a permanent squadron at Top Gun. All of them teach, some more than others, they train together, and still go on missions and all that. They start to get closer because of work and they live close to one another. One day in class, the students decide to prank the instructors by messing with the paperwork, they didn't get caught, but unfortunately they did the prank when the dagger squad were in a bad mood. Jake comes in the office and notices the bad mood and makes a joke to lighten things up, but it ends up with the squad snapping at him and even blaming him for what happened (probably Rooster and Phoenix starts it). Jake tries to defend himself saying something along the lines of 'I don't even know what happened, and my paperwork got messed with too', but no one believes him. Even Coyote and Mav were disappointed in him, hell even Hondo pulls him aside and tells him he should stop messing with the squad. He feels hurt and decides to stop arguing because 'it's not worth it.' The next couple of days the students notice how tense the dagger squad is and managed to piece together what happens based on tactical information gathering (eavesdropping). They start feeling bad, but thinks Hangman deserves it for being a dick sometimes. Cyclone finds out what happened and thinks, 'that doesn't sound like Hangman' because Hangman is very precise with his paperwork, he was also in charge of making most of the lesson plan that week, so the prank would have harmed him the most. He manages to talk to Hangman, who says he doesn't know who did it, but nobody believes him, and he waves off Cyclone's concern saying, 'it doesn't matter, anyways'. However, Cyclone sees how withdrawn the younger man is, and how the dagger squad was getting more pissy with him. Cyclone gets even more concerned and pulls up the CCTV footage and finds out what happens, and pulls the dagger squad and the students to rip them a new one. How disappointed he is in top naval officers not investigating properly and acting like children, and how the students just let it fester. He turns to Hangman and asks how he would like to proceed with punishing the students, and Hangman shrugs and tells him to let the rest of the dagger squad decide because 'you guys were the most inconvenienced by what happened, so you guys chose.' To the students he says, 'I get it, I messed with my COs too, I would say not to let it go on for this long next time, but we all know that ain't happenin' ', he gives them a smile and leaves. The dagger squad bends over backwards trying to get Jake to forgive him, but he tries to stay strictly professional. Cyclone becomes more involved in Hangman's life, and even acts as a mentor. Invites him for dinner or drinks and all that. Hangman is confused, but happy Cyclone gives him the time of day. Eventually Hangman starts becoming more open with Cyclone, and hangs out in his office much more, and Cyclone enjoys the kid's company. One day after a successful mission, Beau pulls Jake close for a side hug and a hair ruffle instead of shaking his hand, and after Jake gives him a small smile, eyes filled with wonder, Beau knew that he wasn't gonna let him go.

I want this as a happy ending of course, and probably change it a bit to make it more "realistic" and all that. Will I actually write it? Who knows, it's just thoughts dump. I just like giving Hangman angst and a chance to have even more found family. (He and the dagger squad will be cool eventually, they spoil him more later on.)

[sillystringsimpsons]

What's your headcannon for Frankie? Can he be killed, or is he immoral?

THE VERDICT IS IN....... I've decided not to make these two doomed yaoi. The au already has enough hurt and suffering . I think I need some cute men in their thirties to balance it out

[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 6!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F + A: jake seresin and the unfortunate hat situation by @sehnsuchts-trunken it's your first time in texas and you don't understand what the big fuss about hats is about.

F: never grow up by @andorskenobi you've fallen ill and the seresin boys play doctor.

F + A: signed away by @seresinhangmanjake at 19 years old, the last thing you want is to marry someone you don't love. however, a contract is a contract and you must see it through.

F: 7 years by @flaming-tgmcu jake's known you since he was 7 and he's loved you ever since.

F + S: birds away by @wombtotombx 𖥻 everyone who knew you and jake growing up were convinced that you'd end up together. you were perfect for one another. yet life and the navy had other plans.

F: tiktok troubles by @ultralightpoe jake misses date night and to get back at him, you pull tiktok pranks when he least suspects it.

F: sweet as candy by @halsteadsbradshaw with a callsign like haribo, it's no wonder you have a sweet tooth. jake knows this and this is the 4 times he brings you candy.

F + A: you again by @ereardon you're back in jake's life and he's determined not to let you go again.

F + A: bad habit by @seasonsbloom 𖥻 hangman was cocky. a complete asshole. you hated him, that was for sure.

F + A: glue song + part 2 + part 3 by @waklman the coffee you make isn't why jake is friends with you, though it is a good plus.

A: move on by @starlightstories jake left you hurt years ago and you've long moved on. it was time that he did too.

F + A: rule number one + rule number two by @ultralightpoe when you first met jake, he made the rule to not fall in love with him. you break it and he breaks you heart in the process.

F + A: nothing else matters by @sunnysidevans despite not being her biological father, jake had helped you raise evelyn ever since you found out you were pregnant with her.

F: dad jake blurb by @stargazing15

F + A: left at the alter by @tip-top-cloud-surfer 𖥻 you get left at the alter by your jerk of a fiance. luckily, jake is there for you, just like when you were younger.

F: the beanery by @callsign-peach when jake keeps coming into work with fancy thermos coffee every morning, his colleagues get jealous and want in on the nice roast too.

F + A: tell them by @sarahsmi13s 𖥻 jake's nearly loses his eldest son to a car accident and decides it is finally time to share his family with his work one.

F + A: i had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself by @gennyanydots 𖥻 jake thought that leaving everything behind would make it easier. instead he feels alone, his life consisting of nothing but his job that consumes him.

F: a little bit easier by @sunlitsunflowers jake is there to comfort you when you start to feel overwhelmed at the hard deck

F: marry that girl by @books-are-escapes jake always knew that you were the one he would marry and he finally made it happen

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F: baby, i'm yours by @almightyellie you're completely blind to bradley's very obious affections for you.

F: to the moon and back by @katsu28 a very special valentine's day for you and bradley

F + A: i will always love you by @amysteryspot with his parents gone and the closest thing he knew to love away, bradley wasn't expecting anyone to tap him out.

F + A: fawn by @sappy-seresin you've garnered rooster's interest working at the hard deck. your skittish behaviour leaves him worried and curious.

F: wedding day by @tip-top-cloud-surfer it's bradley's wedding day and he's brought to tears from seeing his bride

S: (christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse if bradley broke your agreement of only one gift each, surely he wouldn't mind if you broke it too.

F + S: the keeper + part 2 by @tulipsbymybed rooster is infatuated with the owner of the local bookshop.

F + A: homemade dynamite by @mothdruid you and rooster hadn't ended on good terms, now, you're both back at top gun.

F + A: endings and beginnings + part 2 by @tip-top-cloud-surfer rooster finally gets his chance at a family

F: just roommates by @risriswrites you and bradley were roommates, that's all.

F + A: terms of endearment by @ohtobeleah 𖥻 jake seresin was an instigator. as your brother-figure in life, he just wants you to be happy. this includes pushing you and rooster together.

F + A: something special by @helloheyhihowdyheya rooster cares for you more than he lets on, he just has a terrible way of showing it

F + A: what a look on you by @thewulf you secretly harbour feelings for bradley. when a friend from college comes visit and rooster seems far more enamored by her than you, you're hurt.

F: 5 times the Bronco was a third wheel by @thesewordsareallihavetogive there isn't many things bradley loves more than his bronco. you, maybe, but that's about it.

F + S: what's in a name? by @sometimesanalice bradley's favourite thing about you was the way you said his name

F + A: superstar + part 2 by @maggiedanikka bradley bradshaw was the poster boy for the americna navy. he was everything you weren't. why would he ever fall for the likes of someone like you?

F: daddy's little princess by @startrekfangirl2233-writes you come home to bradley playing dinosaurs and barbies with your two children

F: milk and toast and honey by @amysteryspot despite your bad experience with naval aviators, you have an affinity for one bradley bradshaw

F: romeo, romeo by @welcome-to-my-multiverse rooster is completely enamored by you and the dagger squad definitely shouldn't have left a drunk him alone with you.

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them by @callsignsaturn

F: afternoon bedrest by @jungle-angel bob returns home with an upset stomach. lucky for him, you're there to comfort him

F: he's all that by @withahappyrefrain bob's too nervous to approach the cute girl at the hard deck. his team mates decide that a makeover is just the confidence boost he needs

F: rodeo by @sarahsmi13s though you could perfectly hold your own, bob would always stand up for you.

F: surprise by @topgun-imagines bob proposed to his girl and no one the dagger squad had known

F: blind date gone...wrong? by @intricatechaosofyou you get stood up on a blind date. thankfully, bob is there to save you the embarrassment.

F: wanna buy you a drink by @anonymooseforever007 you surprise bob at the hard deck, but not without a little teasing first.

S: untouchable + part 2 by @idkwhylou as the only daughter of the captain, you were placed on a pedestal, deemed untouchable. bob was the only exception.

TOM 'ICEMAN' KAZANSKY

F: little reward by @dragon-kazansky to entice tom away from his computer, you promise him hugs and strawberries

BEAU 'CYCLONE' SIMPSON

F: super trouper + part 2 by @callsignmayhem you're sick and beau is ready to help you feel better, with the help of soup and mamma mia.

[sillystringpony]

Memphis' first and only love thus far; Jonathan Ringler. Jono was quite obviously a queer man in denial, so their whole doomed romance was very much a right people, wrong time sort of thing.

I'm not crying, you are, actually.

interactions hugely appreciated

[sarahsmi13s]

This Is How It Feels

whumptober day 5: hostage / kidnapping / held at gunpoint

pairing: beau 'cyclone' simpson x daughter!reader

characters: beau simpson, y/n simpson, reagan simpson, ncis: new orleans team, the squad breifly, hayden and frankie, everett north (oc villian), cameron north (deceased)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, kidnapping, torture, guns, blood, waterboarding, loss of will to live, oc character death, revenge killing, if i missed any please tell me!

word count: ~3.2k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: a parent's grief is strong and powerful and it can make you crazy, if the opportunity presents itself to get revenge... you take it

“Simpson!”

You turned at the call of your name, spotting your friends waving to you from the front of a bar. “C’mon! We’re starving!”

Shaking your head, you jogged over. “You two, my goodness,” you laughed before you all walked in. “Are you sure we can even eat here? It’s a bar.” “We’ve eaten at the Hard Deck before,” your friend, Hayden, said as she walked over to a table.

“Okay okay, you have a point there. Just don’t try anything stupid, we’re all repping the school, but I��m also repping the Navy and my dad. So if any of you try to pull-”

“Relax, Simpson, I left my fake ID in California,” Frankie, your best friend said as she nudged you playfully.

“Simpson?” 

You looked up to see an older gentleman standing there with an apron around his waist. 

“As in Beau Simpson?” He asked, looking over your face quizzically.

You nodded, “Yes sir, he’s my dad.” The man chuckled, “Yeah, I know your dad, grew up down the street from my mama. I’m sure he hasn’t talked about me much, I’m Dwayne Pride – folks around here call me King.”

“Oh! Yeah, Dad did tell me about you,” you said with a smile and stood up to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Dwayne chuckled, “You can call me Dwayne…” He trailed off, brow arched as he silently prompted you to fill in the blank. “Y/N, I’m Y/N.” He smiled and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You sat back down, but looked up at him. “Now, is your mama Reagan Autry?” You nodded, “Sure is!” He chuckles, “I knew they’d last. Anyhow, what can I get y’all to drink?”

Back in North Island, the squad was at Cyclone’s house for a little get together.

“Where’s Y/N?” Mav asked, sipping his drink as Beau sat down. “Oh her culture club is visiting New Orleans for Mardi Gras week,” Reagan said as she sat down on the arm on Beau’s chair.

“Now y’all are from NOLA, right?” Jake asked, relaxing back on the couch. They nodded, “Sure are. High school sweethearts at that.” He nodded, “That’s impressive.” “It is, because of all the hours and missed dates over the years because he’s such a hard worker,” she said, kissing the side of Beau’s head.

“I made up for it though,” he chuckled and squeezed her hip. “Yeah, you d-”

Reagan’s statement was cut off by Beau’s phone ringing.

He furrowed his brow and picked it up, checking the caller ID to see that it was Frankie.

“I better take this, excuse me,” he sat his drink down and stood before going out on the back patio.

He closed the door as he answered, “Frankie? What’s-” 

“Y/N’s been taken!” 

Beau froze, the breath being pulled from his lungs. “W-what?” Frankie was hyperventilating on the other end, “W-we were get-getting something fr-from the vending machine and-and-and some guy c-came up and t-took her. I tried to he-help b-but she-she told me to run.” 

Frankie sobbed, even though he couldn’t see her he knew she was pacing the hotel room 

“I-I’m sorry…” 

He had to remain calm, knowing that she would freak out if he did. “Frankie, Frankie, you need to breathe sweetheart. I know you’re scared, but I need you to listen to me. There’s a bar, it’s called the Tri-Tone, you need to go there and find Dwayne Pride.”

She sniffed, “W-Why Dwayne Pride?” “He’s an NCIS Agent, he’s the team leader down there and he can help.” She coughed a little, “O-okay…” He took a breath and glanced back inside, seeing his wife leaning on the wall and watching him carefully. “Frankie, I’ll try to be down there soon. Stay safe and be on alert.” “Y-yes sir.” 

He hung up and ran a hand over his face before turning to go back inside.

His eyes stayed on the floor as he closed the door behind him and leaned on it. “Beau… Honey, is everything okay? Is Y/N okay?” 

The concern in Reagan’s voice grabbed the squad’s attention and they looked over concerned.

“Uh.. She.. She was taken… Y/N and Frankie were getting something from the vending machine.. and–and some guy took her…” Beau looked up and met her eyes, tears filling his, “Someone took her…”

Reagan collapsed, Beau catching her just before she could hit the floor. “No! No! Not her, not our baby girl! Please,” she sobbed, her manicured nails biting at his shoulder as she clung to his shirt.

Beau couldn’t say anything as he held up his wife, trying to be strong for her and not break down in front of the squad.

But it was hard. 

I mean of course it was. 

You, his baby girl, in the hands of some stranger. It was his worst nightmare come to life.

Cold. Damp. Dark. 

Those were the words you would have used to describe the room you were in. The only light on in the room was a yellow bulb swinging in its cage above your head. The chill nipped at your exposed skin, having been stripped of the clothes you were in when you were taken. The room smelled of mildew, and you knew that any water ride you ever went on would remind you of this room.

Your arms were tied above your head, spread in a ‘Y’ to keep you from attempting to free yourself despite being in chains. Your bare feet scraped the rough concrete, your toenail polish being scraped off and leaving red, pink, and white streaks on the floor.

If you had to guess, you’d been there about 12 hours, if not a whole day.

The man that took you had only been in the room one other time and it was to tighten the gag in your mouth. It was a relief that was all, but you had a sinking gut feeling that he had something in store for you.

Your view of the room was awful, you could only see the staircase in front of you, the small window at the top of the wall letting in the moonlight and illuminating the assortment of instruments on the workbench underneath it. If there were worse things behind you, you couldn’t see it. But if what you could see was any indication, there was a reason you were here.

All you could do was pray that Frankie got help and that someone was on their way to save you.

“What do we know?” Dwayne asked as he came in, Beau and Reagan following behind him. “Any updates?” 

Chris and Tammy turned, heads tilted in confusion as to why they were there. But they continued when Pride nodded.

“We were just sent this photo anonymously, Patton’s tracing it now.” Sebastian put the photo on the plasma.

The photo was a newspaper being held by cracked manicured nails but the face in the background was too covered to be enhanced effectively. 

“However, there’s no way to determine-”

“That’s her,” Reagan spoke up, tears gathering in her eyes. “That’s my baby girl…” 

Dwayne looked from her and up to Beau, “Are you sure?” She nodded and held up her own hand, “We got a matching manicure before she left…” Reagan turned and sobbed into Beau’s shoulder.

“She was playing with her brothers when she was young and scraped her left hand on the brick wall, the scar never went away,” Beau added for more confirmation that the hand in the photo did belong to you.

Dwayne nodded, “Then there’s hope, it’s a proof of life photo.” 

All the Admiral could do was nod before holding his wife close and silently cry with her.

It had been 5 days since you had been abducted. 

5 agonizing days.

Beau was a wreck, he was falling apart with worry. With fear. Anything awful that came to Beau’s mind, it’s what they were doing to you. And it wasn’t getting better.

Because they hadn’t heard anything else from your abductor. Patton’s trace led them to a library computer, where they were able to obtain security footage but no one in the film looked suspicious. All the team could do was tell the library staff to keep a lookout for anything or anyone sketchy.

But other than that, they had nothing.

And they were running out of time.

“Please, stop!” You sobbed as the hot knife ran across your skin. 

The past four days have been non-stop pain. Even when you were given a break so your capture could do whatever, you were in pain. 

You felt like you had zero hope of getting out, of ever seeing your family again. You could only think of your dad, how he must feel. That he may never see you again, his only daughter, taken from him.

“No! He has to know the pain! The suffering I went through because of him!” 

Him.

That was all he ever referred to this mystery man as. Never said a name or anything other than ‘him’ or ‘he’.

“Who?! Who are you talking about?” You screamed before a fist collided with your stomach, the slick slap of his fist on your wet, bloody skin making you sick to your stomach. 

Your skin was littered with cuts, all ranging in depths and lengths but none deep enough to be immediately fatal. 

No.

It had to be slow.

Whomever this ‘he’ was had to experience the same pain your capture felt.

The man hit you again, smearing your own blood across your face and bruising your swollen skin. 

You cried out, begging for him to stop and to let you go as he walked away. Your voice was raw and broken, cracking as you desperately pleaded. 

“Let me go! Please! I just wanna go home…”

“My daughter never came home, why should I let his?” 

You blinked, not sure what he meant by that. 

“I’m sorry about your daughter… I am… but why inflict this on someone else? Why take someone else’s daughter away?”

He didn’t answer you and released the tension on your chains, sending you to your knees harshly and reopening the wounds on your knees. 

Grunting, he took long strides back over to you. 

You knew what he was after and you tried to crawl away, scraping your palms on the concrete. But you could only crawl so far and so fast. 

Your entire body throbbed and your blood made the floor slick. Your capture was faster than you were in your weak state. He grabbed your hair, yanked you back and grabbed you by the throat. Your yelp was cut short as he applied pressure, cutting off your air flow.

Weakly, you tried to claw at him, get him to let go, but he wouldn’t. He squeezed until your eyes rolled back and you passed out.

Beau paced the living room of his childhood home, waiting on Pride to arrive.

Dwayne had called, telling him they needed his help identifying a man and that they had a lead, a promising one.

He wasn’t given any other details, but even that was enough to give him some hope. It had been over a week, so this was gold to them.

The normally calm and collected admiral nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock at the door. He raced over and pulled it open, revealing the two agents behind it.

“King, Agent Gregorio,” he greeted, stepping to the side to let them both in. They nodded their thanks to him before they went to the kitchen.

“We’re gonna get right into this, Admiral, you and your wife have waited over a week for something like this,” Tammy said, with sympathy in her voice as she held the evidence bag and a printed photo up. 

Dwayne took the evidence bag, “This was in a book returned to the library early this morning.” He turned it to show the folded up notebook paper, the words, “FROM ONE FATHER TO ANOTHER THIS IS HOW IT FEELS” scrawled sloppily across the page in red ink and what looked to be blood droplets and a bloody fingerprint on the paper. 

“The blood is fresh, as old as this mornin’...” Beau didn’t have to ask, there was no other person whose blood it could be. But he needed the confirmation, no matter how sick it made him feel. “Is-Is it…” Both agents nodded, Tammy speaking, “Sebastian ran the print… it’s Y/N’s. The blood is her’s as well…”

Beau gripped the back of the chair to keep him from falling, Dwayne coming to his side to help him sit down.

“Do-do you know who sent it?” 

Tammy sat the photo down, “We were hoping you might.” He picked up the print and looked at it, recognizing the face instantly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s Everett North… His daughter, Cameron, was under my command a few years ago. She died on a mission.”

They nodded looking at each other, Tammy stepping out to call Chris and tell him to look up Cameron’s name. 

Beau runs a hand down his face, “He blames me for Forest’s death and is taking it out on my daughter…”

Everett sat in a chair, fiddling with a hose waiting for you to wake up. 

You were laying on the freezing floor, the only warmth being the pool of blood you were laying in. You weren’t sleeping so much as laying unconscious, passing out from the previous day's torment. You knew what today held, the same as yesterday. 

That’s what it was, a routine. Torture of all kinds day in and day out. Pain and suffering, that’s all it ever was.

You didn’t want to open your eyes, wake up to another day of this. You were sick, coughing and shivering as the cold basement plus your wet skin plagued you. Your wounds were infected. Your throat was raw from screaming, but Everett managed to pull them from you still. 

And you knew what was in store for you today… but keeping your eyes closed would only delay the inevitable.

You cracked your swollen eyes open, weakly trying to push yourself up. 

“They’re she is,” he gruffed out before getting up and turning the hose on. He puts his thumb over the opening on the hose, spraying you in the face with the freezing water. 

You could only weakly yelp before he was coming over and pulling you to your feet and dragging you to the table on the back wall.

“No, no, no, please, please don’t…” You protest weakly, still trying to fight him. 

“Stop fightin’, you know it's no use,” he said coldly before putting you on the table and strapping you down before running the cold water over your cuts and burns.

You whimpered, squirming to get away despite it being futile. 

He just laughed before covering your face with a towel and soaking it with the hose.

“Everett North, his daughter was Cameron North. Cameron was killed after her plane crashed and she was taken by the enemy. She was held and tortured for two weeks before her body was dumped back at the wreckage for search and rescue to find,” Gregorio started.

Chris was next, “After seeing her at the Tri-Tone and following her to her hotel, North abducted Y/N. She has been with him for a little over a week. But she isn’t trained like military personnel is, she’s only 18 and what Lieutenant North went through was intense and extensive. We don’t know if Y/N can handle it.”

“Okay, do we know where he lives?”

“Sebastian is–”

“I found it! I’ve got his address!” Sebastian shouted as he stood up.

With that the team jumped up and got their gear.

The moment the towel was yanked off your face you started coughing up the water you inhaled, lifting your head so you don’t choke on it again.

Everett started and ended with the same method. That's how you knew your day was over.

He unstrapped you from the table and watched you weakly roll until you fell onto the ground limply.

“Please… just kill me…” 

Your plea was weak as you continued to cough up water. You hated that you had gotten to that point so soon. That you could pull through for just a little longer. But you were in agony, body broken and bloody. You didn’t want your parents to see you like this.

“Oh no no no, your dad has to feel the same pain I felt.”

You look over your shoulder, “M-My dad? What did my dad do to you?” Everett reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling you up to your knees.

“He killed my daughter, I’m only returning the favor,” he hissed, yanking down to put you on your back.

You yelped, your head making contact with the ground. “My dad would never do that!” He kicked you across the face, “Shut up! You don’t know!”

You went to retort but you could hear movement upstairs.

And that’s when you felt your will to live enter your body again. 

“Help! I’m down here, help me!”

You could hear the flurry of footsteps to the basement door and Everett pulled you to your feet.

He held most of your weight and pointed a gun at your neck as the door flew open and agents ran down the stairs.

“Everett North! NCIS put your weapon down!”

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot her!”

Everything suddenly became blurry, the voices around you muddling together. You didn’t know exactly what was happening but you could only assume it was shock or your body finally letting go and relaxing because you had a chance of living.

But before you learned the answer, everything went black as a gunshot rang out.

The first thing you noticed as you woke up was the incessant beeping of a heart monitor. Next was the fact that the lights were off. Then it was the weight of a large, calloused hand in yours.

“D-Daddy?” You rasped out, attempting to squeeze his hand. 

Beau’s head whipped up, “Oh, baby…” “Daddy, I-I’m so sorry,” you nearly sobbed out. “Shhh shh baby girl, no, it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.”

All you could do was nod before you started coughing. 

He was quick to react, getting you a cup of water and offering it for you to take, afraid that if he tried to help he’d send you into a panic.

You take it and sip it carefully before giving it back to him. He grabbed your hand, “I’m so glad you’re okay, sweetheart. I’m so sorry this happened.” You shake your head, “Not your fault… he-he blamed you… but it’s not your fault.”

He smiled gently at you before pushing hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead and you sent him an identical smile. “What matters is that I’m okay… well that I will be okay.” He nodded and kissed your hand, “Yeah, you’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

taglist: @valmare @fanboyswhore9 @bradleybeachbabe @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233 @horseshoegirl @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @kmc1989 @mayhemmanaged

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[fallingforel]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do numbers 5, 23, 62, 63, and 69 from your prompt list with like the reader being part of one direction and Harry dating her, and she falls for brad from the vamps. Like could it be angst between Harry and the reader where they’re together but then he cheats on her with someone (idk any celebrity or something like he dated Taylor at one point I think) and she goes to Brad and they’re friends but he’s been in love with her since forever and he comforts her and they get together. Also just make Harry completely regret everything if you can (I live for the cheating with no second chance trope, it’s amazing ❤️) thank you so much!! Have a great day!

A/N hi my lovely here it is for you, hope you enjoy and I hope you like it. dont forget those that want to request one the prompt list is here

1,548 words

PROMPTS 5, 23, 62, 63 AND 69: "you made your choice" "they didn't deserve you" "you think that this is easy for me" "I hate seeing you like this" "I don't like you...I love you"

⋆｡°✩

It was a well known fact that I was the 6th member and only girl in one direction, I was also dating harry from my band, on the outside things looked squeaky clean and it looked like we had a perfect relationship but we didn't we fought all the time, Harry was always jealous because I was best mates with Brad from the vamps, Brad and I have been lifelong friends as we both resided from the same part of Birmingham and we also went to school together. It wasn't my fault that I've always gotten along better with boys than I have with girls they were just easier to talk to and the fact that they weren't snakes behind my back.

So you could imagine Harry's reaction when I told him brad was coming tonight, even if he tried to hide it in the best way possible. I still noticed. It was hard not to, however we hadn't had a fight in three weeks and I wasn't about to start one now, I had just finally hoped that we were in an all right place.

"Brads coming tonight. He's in town got a show tomorrow, thought he'd pop by then celebrate with us as the end of this leg is today, was thinking we could go to his show tomorrow"

"mmh, yeah, be nice I 'spose"

"Yeah it would, come on we've got to get ready, we've got a show to perform"

⋆｡°✩

And the show went spectacularly well, I was at my happiest when I was on the stage with my band, with my fans screaming my name it was the most supportive feeling in the world, and I loved every second of it.

Now we were back in our dressing rooms ready to go out, It wasn't often we went out while on tour we'd only ever do it for special things like birthdays, end of legs or if someone new joined our team halfway through. Tonight though, we were celebrating the end of the leg of the tour we were currently on, zayn left a couple of months ago. And with Harry and I on rocky ground we all secretly knew that the band was coming to an end, we were all scared to admit it though, too afraid to say it out loud because then it would all become real.

I'm broken out of my thoughts by a knock on the door, which makes me wipe away the tears I didn't even realise were there, before I'm saying "COME IN" and I'm met with Harry peeping round the door

"Hey, hey. why are you crying my love? What's the matter?" "The bands breaking up isn't it?" "no? what makes you think that sweetheart?" "I mean, with Zayn leaving, you and I on rocky terms, we're all not the same people we were 5 years ago Harry, the bands dynamic doesn't fit anymore"

"Yes okay, zayn may have left, You and I may be on bad terms some of the time and yes maybe we have all changed, but nobody stays the same, it's pretty hard to do that darling, otherwise you wouldn't grow up. The dynamic still works all the same though. So for now, dry your tears, get a fit dress on and lets take our minds off this band breaking up nonsense"

And I do as he tells me joining them shortly in the addison lee taking us into the main part of london, so we could go to a night club. I was sat inbetween Harry and Brad and could feel the tension rising, more so from Harry than brad, Harry was being weirdly possesive with me and it didnt feel in a good way, like it usually does.

Soon arriving at the nightclub we all head inside and Louis takes Harry to the bar to get some drinks for all of us, even he could sense the tension meaning it was bad.

⋆｡°✩

"you did great tonight, y/n/n. Smashed it, if only you could've heard the chanting for your name. It was unreal honestly." Brad says from beside me perking me out of my daydream of nothing in particular.

"awwh, Braddy. You're sweet you" I say placing a kiss on his cheek as a thank you. I've always called Brad, braddy ever since we were in nappies because I was never able to pronounce my L's I soon learned, the name stuck around though.

⋆｡°✩

Having not seen Harry since he went to the bar, and hasn't come back since, It's been well over half an hour now, so I was getting pretty worried. So I decided to ask around if anybody has seen him.

"LOU! You haven't seen Harry have you? Haven't seen him since we got here." "No I haven't. Last I saw him was at the bar, said he was going back to you, that was about fifteen minutes ago" "thanks lou."

⋆｡°✩

10 minutes later Niall comes up to me interuptting the conversation I was having with Brad I had given up trying to find him he clearly didn't want to be found, "I heard you were looking for Harry, I found him, but you're not going to like it" "what Niall, where is he" "mens bathroom, that way" he says turning to point me in the direction of where the mens bathroom is.

Walking into the mens bathroom, I found a sight I didn't want to see, Harry going down on a girl, the girl that wasn't me. "OH WOW!" I shout earning both his and the girls attention. "y/n/n, baby-" "don't you baby me Harry, it is so clear what you think about me." "who the fuck are you?" the girl quips back at me. "his girlfriend honey, actually no his ex-girlfriend. Keep him he's yours he was a slag anyway" "oh thats rich coming from you y/n, I saw you getting close with Brad, a little kiss on the cheek" "we've always been that way and you fucking know it" "oh but it's so easy for you breaking up with me though isn't it, now you can run away with the btec version of me cause it's clear you have a type don't you" "YOU THINK THAT THIS IS EASY FOR ME? YOU THINK THAT I WANT TO BREAK UP WITH YOU? WELL I DON'T HARRY OKAY?, BUT ITS CLEAR WHAT YOU'VE CHOSEN, goodbye Harry, I'll see you soon for the american leg." is the last thing I say before I walk out of the men's bathroom and back to where Brad was sat.

"Y/n? are you okay?" is all he says before I break down crying and he wraps an arm around me. And an executive decision is made between the two of us that he's going to take me back to his for the night.

⋆｡°✩

In the taxi on the way back, I'm still crying and he still has an arm around me. "

what even happened? why are you crying?"

"Harry cheated on me" is all I can muster out before I'm a blubbering mess again

"I hate seeing you like this Y/n all I know right now is that he didn't deserve you, he never has but I've always been supportive of your relationship always been the shoulder to cry on because I'm your best friend and always will be here, and you know that"

And soon enough I'm on Brads sofa, with Brad laying down giving me a hug.

"you want to say something dont you?" I speak up breaking the silence between me and him. "yeah I do, and I don't care if it's the incorrect time, or what but I have to say it now, otherwise I never will, I dont like you y/n I love you, and I have for the longest time, and if you need time to heal I'm okay with that I can wait a little while longer for you darling" he says shocking me to my core, I will admit I always loved Brad, and I don't think I ever stopped not liking him I just think Harry was a distraction while I was away from him.

"oh brad, I love you too" Is the last thing I say before I'm pulled into a kiss from him and we make our way upstairs to his bed where we both reside for the night wrapped up in eachother and if we were to get stuck into each other as well, then that's nobody's business but our own

⋆｡°✩

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

we're both awoken to a pounding on Brads door, so we both rush down and he answers it, revealing a disheveled Harry who looks like he hadn't slept. He tries to enter but brad pushes him back with the door "she doesn't want to speak to you Harry, You really fucked it this time" "please just hear me out y/n. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cheat, I love you so so so so much"

"You made your choice Harry, please just go. I don't want you here, just please leave, be better on yourself" which I was met back with silence and then the turn of footsteps up brads gravel drive was all that could be heard.

⋆｡°✩

end.

[just-my-type-x]

Tell Me How You Really Feel

Based on Would You by The Vamps

@bronwiebear-brad got u ♥️

"Can you, please, tell me what's wrong with you?", Brad asks me and i take a gulp of my cocktail, trying to ignore his question. "We can't spend the rest of our holiday like this", he sighs and picks up his towel, heading back to the hotel, leaving me on the beach. I sigh and try to take in the beauty of my view, but it angers me more than it relaxes me. I finish my drink, pick up the rest of the stuff and get inside too.

"Bradley", i close the door behind me and he turns around when he hears me, coming back from the balcony. "Why are we on holiday?", i walk past him towards the balcony to put my towel up to dry in the wind. I know he's standing behind me with his arms crossed at his chest, frowned, almost tapping his foot nervously on the floor.

"Trying to save what's left of us?", he answers with an angry tone, which i do not blame him for. "Tell me how you really feel about us, y/n. Because I'm really curious how much you actually want us together anymore.", he sits on the end of the bed, watching me carefully, his teary eyes analysing my face features. I stand in front of him, looking down in his direction, but ditching eye contact.

"How can you be curious of something like that, Bradley?", i scoff and turn my back to him, only to face him again when he starts to speak.

"You don't even call me love, babe, at least tell me to fuck off and i would!", he gets up and comes closer to me, but not as close as a boyfriend. We feel like strangers, act like them and soon, we will be strangers. "If i walked out that fucking door right now, would you even follow me? Would you even miss me or realise that we're done, we're over?", a tear almost falls off his cheek, but he's quick to run his hands over his face. I stay silent for a few seconds, too many, in fact. Brad scoffs and walks to the closet to take his clothes out.

"What are you doing?", i ask, uneasy

"I'm leaving. The trip is paid, you can take the rest of the days to make up your mind. I'll br in Birmingham waiting for your decision", he angrily tosses the clothes on the bed and i catch his arm, turning him to face me.

"Hey, stop. This is not who we are", i raise my voice and he raises his eyebrows.

"You decided this is us, y/n! I seem to not interest you anymore and let's be honest here, you haven't showed one gram of affection towards me ever since i came back from tour. I thought this vacation will be good for us, to get romantic again, but you're colder and colder by the day. Don't go wasting my time when you don't want yours to be wasted either", he takes off his beach shorts and gets dressed quickly in denim shorts and a loose shirt, closing up his suitcase. We fight, i pull him by the arm to stay with me, but i let him go soon after ny first try.

"Have a nice flight, Brad"

"Oh, so it's Brad now. I'll have the best one away from you.", he pushes the suitcase out of the room. "Take care", his voice breaks when closing the door behind him.

🥀🥀🥀

A month later I'm invited to James' birthday party, which i go to feeling like an imposter. I greet everyone and hug my closest friends, making small talk and earning a few apologetical statements from some of them about Brad and i's break up. I look down, trying to dodge eye contact, because lately i realised that the break up was not needed and i was just in a bad place, not being able to provide the relationship what was needed.

I see James and walk over to him, handing him his gift and tightly hugging him, ending up in a long conversation, that felt like hours, not briefly 10 minutes. Kirstie joins us soon after we finish talking about their wedding anniversary vacation.

"I think someone here wants to have some alone time with you", James takes a sip of scotch and points somewhere behind me and i see Brad ignoring a conversation, while he's looking straight in my eyes when i turn around. I excuse myself from James and Kirstie and walk towards him.

He takes me by my hand and walks me out of the big living room and we go right outside the house, in the small garden. I feel my whole body tense, wishing his hand was still in mine.

"I'm sorry", i burst out and Brad laughs

"I've played gamed enough to see through a lie", he takes a sip of gin and looks away from me

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you really sorry? You didn't bother to let me know you're still alive when you got home. I had to call your parents"

"I know", i whisper and look away from him

"You kno-, you know. Wow", he scoffs again and empties his glass, throwing it away from us, breaking somewhere on the pavement. "Did you talk to them about us?"

"i did, yeah. And i really meant it that I'm sorry", i lean on the wall on my back, looking straight ahead

"And what did you tell them? That we're holiday-ing in different parts of the world?", Brad lets out a small laugh and i know the joke was meant to break the tension. "Did your face light up the way it used to?", i look at him and a sad smile is on his face, watching me closely. He comes next to me and lays on the wall like me.

"No, i told them I fucked up. I couldn't lie to them, i was a wreck. I'm an asshole for not talking to you anymore, but i didn't deserve you or your answers. I'm sorry i wasn't able to bring what you needed into our relationship, the last months have been so hard for me. I guess i let distance break us apart and i didn’t even try to get you back ", my voice breaks and Brad is quick to hug me tight at his chest, the way he always used to when i was sad.

"We don't deserve each other from many points of view, but I'm down to try and change that. If you want that too", he kisses the top of my head and the last part is whispered, like he was too scared to find out my choice.

"I want that. I'm not ready to give you up, i swear", we hug one more time and we get inside the house, hand in hand, offering each other quick, cheeky smiles every now and then.

[dvcky-duck]

Pim in the hospital

they being gay ashell ^_^ sorry for the monstrously bad image quality ><

for more context (tw blood)

EEK

[deadlyroyalty]

Pancake Conversations | 16+ |

Relationship(s): Lisa Simpson/Nelson Muntz; Homer Simpson/Marge Simpson

Character(s): Lisa Simpson; Nelson Muntz; Homer Simpson; Marge Simpson; Bart Simpson; Milhouse Van Houten (Mentioned)

Word Count: 2809

Summary: “Take a breath, Lis.” Nelson whispers. “I know you’re feeling a lot of things right now but take a deep breath.” He was right and maybe when she wasn’t so hormonal, she would acknowledge and be grateful that he didn’t explicitly note that she was hormonal.

CW: Fluff; Fluff & Angst; Sexual Innuendos; Mild Sexual Content; Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Lovey-Dovey; Awkward Conversations; Mild Nudity; Drug Use; Recreational Drug Use

A/N: Sequel to previous one-shot (Period Sex) but can be read as standalone. This is more cheesy and written more like an episode of the Simpsons, not like my previous writing. I wanted to experiment.

Read on AO3 here.

—————

Lisa awoke to the soft snores coming from her boyfriend and his breath blowing against the hair behind her ear. She let out a small groan and rolled over in his arms, attempting to untangle their legs. She buries herself into Nelson’s warm, nude chest, humming happily. His hands only hold her tighter, ensuring that she won’t be leaving his arms anytime soon, something she knows she must if she is going to have any chance at bracing her parents for the shock that is her boyfriend coming downstairs.

She wiggles out of his grip, whining at the loss of warmth as she rolls off her bed, landing on her knees. Standing, she looks over to see Nelson reaching for her in the spot she’d vacated. “Lis.” His morning voice made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling this early in the morning. “Come back to me.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she starts stroking his cheek. “I have to tell my parents that you're here, they aren’t…” She clicks her tongue. “They aren’t exactly aware that you came over.” He groans again and murmurs out something about how they won’t care. She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

She quickly takes the pills that were set out on her nightstand, including the Plan-B Nelson had set out for her the night prior. “I’ll be quick.” He’s already snoring once more.

As she exits her room, she attempts to open and close her door so as not to wake the sleeping giant in her bed. She groggily made her way downstairs and the second she entered the kitchen she was met with a tense smile from her mother, who was flipping pancakes over the stove. “Hi sweetie. How you doing?”

Lisa yets out a yawn and runs a hand through her tangled hair. “Good.” She pulls out a chair at the table. “How was the murder mystery party?”

Marge sighed as she flipped a pancake onto the growing stack next to her. “Y’know the usual, it started off well but by the end of it, your father was drunk off his rocker and embarrassed me beyond belief.”

Lisa frowned. “I’m sorry mom.”

The smile her mom put on next was clearly fake. “Well, it’s alright. I’m sure I can live without couple friends. But enough about that, how was your evening?”

Lisa let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, the thing about that is-” Screaming started to be heard from upstairs causing both women to jump up in alarm.

Marge was the first out of the kitchen, with Lisa immediately behind her. They’re both starting to panic, wondering what in the world could’ve caused their respective partners to start screaming. Neither even beginning to think it might have been each other.

When they both reached the top of the stairs they saw the reason for the commotion. Nelson and Homer were standing in the hallway, both in only their undergarments. Lisa’s boyfriend looked down right embarrassed while her dad looked like he wanted to strangle him. “Lisa!” He shouted at her. “Do you want to tell me why I found him leaving your room?”

“Homie…” Marge started but was quickly cut off by Homer raising a hand.

“No, no, no, Marge. Don’t defend her.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his daughter. “I expected this behavior from the boy but not from you.” He started to sob dramatically. “You were supposed to be our family's saving grace.”

“Dad.” Lisa breathed. “It’s just Nelson.” She hooked her arm through Nelson’s and leaned into him. “You know I’m responsible.” She rolled her eyes. “More responsible than Bart at the very least.”

“But what about-” Homer started shouting only to be quickly cut off.

“Before you start, you never had any rules that he couldn’t be here.” Her voice was clipped and straight to the point.

He sputters and makes several attempts to defend himself or come up with some cause of his anguish, only to find he was lacking one. “Fine.” He crossed his arms and turned his head snootily. “But you better be using protection.” Nelson started choking on air.

“Dad!”

“Homie!”

Marge and Lisa yell in tandem, both completely mortified by his statement.

Lisa is rubbing circles on her boyfriend's back as he catches his breath. “I promise we are, sir.” Nelson wheezes out, his hands on his knees. He rarely ever called Homer ‘sir’ and whenever he did, everyone knew that he was being sincere.

“Good. Now Marge, I believe that there is bacon in the kitchen with my name on it.” Homer shoves past both his wife and daughter to go downstairs.

“Homer, put on a pair of pants!” Marge’s voice was very flat as she called after him.

“No.” Homer’s tone sounded more like a defiant teenager as he entered the kitchen. She sighed and pinched her nose, murmuring family-friendly obscenities before following him to finish prepping that morning's breakfast.

As Nelson pushes himself upright, Lisa wraps her arms around his waist and collapses into his chest, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. “I’m sorry about that.”

His arms reciprocate her actions, hands gripping her hips tightly to get her attention. “It’s alright Lis, we both know I’ve had weirder conversations with your dad.” She gives a weak laugh.

She brings her arms up and pushes off his chest. “I know, I know. I just thought I’d have more time to explain.” Nelson just shrugs and rolls his eyes. “I think I have some of your pajama pants in one of my drawers, put those on before you come down.” She pleads as she, albeit reluctantly, pulls herself from his arms for the second time that morning.

“What?” His grin is cocky. “Don’t want me to be like your dad and come down in only these.” He gestured to his gray boxers and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I thought you enjoyed seeing me like this, Lis.”

She groans. “Nelson!” Her tone is exacerbated.

He laughs but nods in acknowledgement. “You know I’m kidding, Lis.” He leans down and kisses her forehead, his stubble rough on her skin.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” She shoots him a weak smile as she starts down the stairway once again and he walks back into her room, presumably to turn all her drawers upside down to find his pants.

Once Lisa is back in the kitchen, she is met with the anguished face of her father and the annoyed look of her mother. “Homie, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, Marge!” He clutches his chest in shock. “How can you say that!?”

Marge has her hands on her hips. “We did that exact same thing when we were their age.” Both have failed to notice the reappearance of Lisa. “You should’ve seen them last night. For once she didn’t look like an anxiety riddled, stressed out mess!” She takes a breath. “She looked happy, Homer. Genuinely happy.”

Lisa clears her throat, drawing the attention of both adults back to her. “As nice as it is to hear you coming to my defense, I don’t know if I should be more freaked out over the fact that you were watching us sleep last night.”

Her mom dawns a sheepish look. “Sorry sweetie, but you two were just so adorable.”

Lisa flushes in self-consciousness. “Mom!” Her tone is high pitched, almost a squeal.

“I know, I know.” Marge holds her hands up in self defense. “I won’t do it again, now sit, sit. I’ll get out the coffee.” She leans down, placing the bowl of sugar cubes and Lisa’s oatmilk on the table before turning back around to grab the coffee pot.

As Lisa takes a seat, the backdoor opens and Bart waltzes in, back from his night out with Milhouse, and looking worse for wear. “There’s my special little guy. How was your night?”

Bart collapses in the chair closest to where he entered. “Fine.” He crossed his arms and yawned.

“Look who's decided to make an appearance.” Lisa snarked.

Bart rolled his eyes and grabbed a piece of bacon, ripping into it with his teeth. He ignores his sister and instead decides to make a backhanded comment towards their father. “How hungover are you, fatso?”

Homer looks up at his son from the paper and glares. “Bart, don’t call me that.” He says through gritted teeth.

Bart cackles, spewing pieces of bacon from his mouth. “Bart, wait till you're done chewing.” Marge chastises as she wipes a crumb of bacon off her arm in disgust. Lisa eyed him with a look of repugnance as she sipped her coffee but her ears perked up when she heard the heavy steps of her partner on the stairs.

Nelson walks in wearing his red and black, plaid, pajama pants and a wife beater. The second he and Bart make eye contact the room tenses. “What is he doing here?” Bart’s tone is laced with as much venom as he can muster.

Nelson has a smug smirk on his face as he plops into the chair next to Lisa and pulls her into his lap with ease. “I’m her boyfriend, dingus. I’m allowed to be here, ain’t that right, Lis?” He coos and her cheeks start to heat up.

Lisa struggles to start her sentence. “Yeah, Bart. He can be here.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, his warm hands resting right where her cramps are, where she needed them to be. “He helped me out a lot last night.”

Bart gags. “Don’t ever talk to me about your sex life, ever!” He exclaims.

“Not like that you jerk!” Lisa shouts at him. “Since you ate all the ice cream, Nelson got me some chocolate.” She says matter of factly. “And he wouldn’t have needed to, had you just listened to me and not eaten it!” Her heart was beating quickly and she felt her face heat up in anguish.

“Take a breath, Lis.” Nelson whispers. “I know you’re feeling a lot of things right now but take a deep breath.” He was right and maybe when she wasn’t so hormonal, she would acknowledge and be grateful that he didn’t explicitly note that she was hormonal. She took his advice, taking a deep inhale, letting him feel her abdomen expand underneath his hands with every inhale.

She mutters a ‘thank you’, and in response he kisses behind her ear. She’s all flustered and when she finally does speak to the room she’s calm and collected, unlike the her from thirty seconds ago. “Bart, if you hadn’t eaten all the ice cream and taken all the snacks out of the cupboard for your smoking session with Milhouse, then he wouldn’t be here right now.” Her tone is pointed and direct.

Bart rolls his eyes once more and makes a noise of annoyance, leaning back with one arm resting on the back of his chair. He waves his hand towards Homer. “Homer, how are you cool with this?”

Homer mutters angrily, flipping the newspaper up to cover his face. “Ask your mother.”

Bart looks towards Marge who places the stack of pancakes on the table. “Mom?”

“Lisa’s responsible, we trust her.” She shrugged.

Bart makes a noise of disbelief. “What!? But-but-” He’s stuck in a never ending loop of ‘but’, getting a giggle out of Lisa at her brother's loss for words. “But you never trusted me with having someone in the house!”

“And it’s a good thing we didn’t.” Marge points an accusatory finger. “You’ve had three pregnancy scares this year alone, young man.” Bart huffs and walks out of the room, talking about how unfair it was under his breath.

Lisa feels Nelson pat her hips before he lifts her to standing with ease. “I gotta get to the shop, baby. Gotta make some calls as your brother is clearly not coming in today.” Just because they worked together, doesn’t mean Bart liked Nelson.

She whimpers. “Do you have to?”

“I’m the owner, Lis. If I’m not there, then it doesn’t function.” He walks into the dining room with her following close behind.

“Yeah but that should mean you can take days off whenever you want.” Her tone is that of a disgruntled child as she goes up the stairs behind him.

“Lis, baby, I can’t take a day off every time you want me to.” When he says that her lip starts to quiver. It doesn’t matter if she knows deep down he’s right, in her heightened emotional state she's much more sensitive and knowing that he couldn’t be there for her made her want to sob. He didn’t notice the tears welling up in her eyes until he sat on her bed to pull on his shoes. He looks up at her and immediately regrets what he said. “No, no, no, Lis. That’s not what I meant.” He reaches out for her. “Come here, baby.”

She moves to sit on his lap and he holds her hips. “Lisa, if you really needed me to, I’d take the day off. I can promise you that.”

She smiles. “I know, I know. I’ll just miss you.” She wipes the tears starting to spill from her eyes. Lisa tries to focus on his calloused thumb currently rubbing circles on her hip bone.

He had a pensive look on his face for a moment before speaking. “I’ll take a day off in two weeks, okay? I’ll spend the whole day with you, fuck you senseless so you’ll be able to feel me in you for days after. You won't be missing me for a really long time.” His toothy grin is contagious and the laugh she lets out warms his heart through and through.

Her mood instantly brightens and he slides her off his lap and onto her bed. He leans down and starts to tie his laces as she watches him intently. Lisa’s eyes were moving over every feature on his face, the little sun spots and his notched nose, and his eyes; his deep, chocolatey, brown eyes.

Lisa lays back as he, unbeknownst to himself, gives her a show. Nelson gets dressed in front of her, using the clothes he kept there to get ready for work. As he was buttoning up his green flannel shirt, he turned and saw her staring. “You gonna take a picture?” He raises a brow.

“I would but I already have enough of you changing.” Her tone was light hearted but they both knew what lay in her nightstand drawer.

She follows her boyfriend downstairs, wanting to say one last good-bye before he is on his way. She helps him slip on his vest, in a way that parallels the way her mother does it for her father. “Thank you, baby.” She smiles up at him.

His black pick-up is parked outfront, the car covered in a light layer of condensation. The morning air is cold around her and she wishes she was wearing more than her boyfriend’s shirt, which was ten times too big for her, and panties. She trailed behind him to the curb. “Lis, go inside, you’ll catch a cold.”

She scoffs. “No I won’t.”

“Well I don’t want anyone to see you like that.” He pulls her close by her waist.

She smiles up at him. “They’ve dealt with my dad sleeping naked on the roof for years, they can deal with a little PDA.” She shrugs.

“Lis-” She presses her lips to his, promptly cutting him off. He makes a small noise of shock before leaning into it. She leans against his chest and deepens the kiss, one hand on his pectorals and the other cupping his jaw, loving the rough feel of his scruff on her skin. When she pulls away they rest their forehead against one anothers. “I’ll be back after work, Lis.” He whispers against her lips.

“Promise?” She looks up at him with big, pretty eyes.

“Of course, sweetheart. I love you.” He kisses her palm and pulls away with one last peck on her lips. “Now I gotta get to work.”

“I love you, too.” He gives her a large grin as he walks around the front of his truck to get in. Lisa doesn’t want him to leave, especially since she can feel the intense stare of her family from the window behind her. He gives her one last wave as he pulls away from the curb. Lisa waves back, blowing him a kiss. She can watch Nelson’s smile through his right side mirror. She watches as he turns the corner at the end of Evergreen Terrace. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, trying to hug herself how he does but it will never be the same. She yearned to be in his arms.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Two

Read Part One

Part Three Coming Soon!

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 4000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Lots of Crying, Parent Trouble and Reconciliation, Insecurity,

We don't get to meet Bobby yet, I'm sorry!

My father's office looks the same. Honesty it has looked the same for as long as I can remember, and it's not just this office either. Every single one of my father's offices has looked just this way. Tan walls, that sort of sad, off beige color that every military installation, from this side of the world to the next, think outfit them so well. There's always a strong oak desk, sometimes it's pine, but either way it's always a sturdy piece of furniture that has no business around the thrown together particle board of the neighboring pieces.

My father has always brought in his own chair. It's faded leather is always well conditioned and it's warn in. Warn in just the way that when you sit in it, you can almost feel the ever lasting presence of the many years my father has sat in that very seat. He has hauled it with him all around the country, always in unaccompanied baggage so it would be sitting in his office and ready for him upon his arrival. He used to joke that if he made it there before his beloved chair, his time stationed there would be hell in a handbasket.

The day he got stationed at Top Gun as the Air Boss, that chair took it's rightful place behind the new desk. The same desk with empty drawers and too many files preemptively stacked atop it. But that's just how it is, right? After all, it's been that way since my father made Commander and things don't look to be changing anytime soon.

The decanter on his book shelf has been wiped clean of dust and fingerprints. No doubt filled with any run of the mill whiskey that may find it's way into my father's hands. It's an office staple, that decanter's about as old as myself, but the crystal still shines after 25 years, especially after a good cleaning. There's a bottle of good whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk, sat beside a bottle of the best vodka he could find. Always ready for the COMPACFLT to drop by on a moment's notice, though the Admiral has never made himself known long enough to break it out.

I sit and stare out the windows, the ones that make up the back wall of his office. There's always windows, but strangely the size seems to correlate with rank. One might think it would depend on the building, on the base, on the climate or area of the world, but what I've come to find out is the higher the number on your Pay Code, the bigger your fucking office widows.

That, and the less time you have for your family. It seems the higher that Pay Code number, the more time I've managed to spend with clerks and assistants. More visitation with office windows and the low reflection that stares back at me as I try to focus on the air field. Aircraft take off and land, the service men and women knocking out their required flight hours as the sun moves its way throughout the sky. But still, there are times I catch my own eyes in that low light reflection, but there are less tears now. Or there had been, until that fucking incident at the airport.

Truth be told, I haven't stopped shaking. In that damn reflection of my father's office window I can see both my tear stained cheeks and the confused looks on Rhett and Jake's faces. The images twist together. It's all hurt, every last piece.

I'm sure the three of us would be a sight if we were all standing in the same place, the boys with those same lost looks, hurt flashing through there eyes, and me, red rimmed irises and damp skin. Skin that is already threatening to chap over from the way it stings. I should have savored the way they so fiercely defended me. The way they folded me into themselves and kept me safe. Isn't that what home is, if only so briefly? A lifted wing to a chick in the same way their kind eyes were to me. It's a shame, the way it all came crashing down with those four little words.

There's not even a part of me that doesn't ache when the memory of only hours ago runs through my head. Their touch still ghosts over my shoulders. Phantom fingerprints left upon my upper arms, still smoldering, smoking as they cool.

Friendship has to be written into the strands of the universe, it just must be. Hidden deep within the stitching, taking a back seat to the drips of ink that are marred into skin, so easy to see. Because if it isn't, my soul shouldn't feel this heavy. It couldn't feel this heavy. So it must be. It must be.

There's mumbling coming from just beyond the fire door of the office, voices that I can't make out by ear but I know those tell tale footsteps that can't help but get closer. My heart pounds in the same way his footsteps all but reverberate through the floor. The voices get closer, and closer, but I can't seem to focus on anything but the air field- the vision of my own red rimmed irises in the glass of the O-9 sized window.

"Sir, I'm trying to tell you that-" The words come through muffled then clear as the door nearly squeaks open. A call to DPW and those hinges wouldn't grind, but I know door hinges aren't exactly on the high priority list for a Vice Admiral.

"Birdie?" That damn nickname's spoken by my father, in that surprised tone that is just a little too irregular completely flattens all my resolve. The floodgates open, or moreover, they break, just as I turn to meet his eye.

"Hi Dad," The words come out too wet and too close to a sob, but we both just stand there looking at one another. In the time we stare at each other, the Earth has rotated almost two hundred eighty miles around it's access. Four hundred fifty kilometers in roughly fifteen seconds. His hand is still curled around the doorknob, the brass of the handle turned down just so. A Lieutenant stands next to my father, an apologetic look hung upon her features. The tightness of her bun pulls her eyebrows up, barely noticeable, but it makes her look a little more surprised, a little bit more of herself that's usually hidden under the mask, just barely breaking through.

It's another two hundred eighty miles before my father makes a move. He enters further into the office while the Lieutenant slips the door shut. I can almost feel how the handle must be warm beneath her slender fingers. The same warmth is rolling off of my hands; all of the nervous energy having nowhere to go but cycle out to my fingertips only to crawl back up my arms once more.

"Hey, kid," My father speaks after another moment passes, another few miles, "I- uh,"

There is so much hanging between us. After spending so many years arguing, instead of words left unsaid between us they all seem to be hanging in the air. Stiff and starched like a uniform collar, textured underneath my fingertips. The way they brush against my skin makes me itch as I inch closer. I wish to choke on them; on the words, longing for a moment that I had something else to say. Some sort of words found stuck somewhere between the tightness of my throat and the stickiness of my gums, lips dry and cracking under the pressure. Instead, they all still hang between us, a rickety old rope bridge while the few feet between us is a canyon's expanse.

The average argument lasts ten minutes, and families tend to have around a hundred arguments a year. That's a thousands hours of disagreements that stand between us over the last year alone. A hundred and twenty five words per minute. That's one hundred twenty five thousand words and I can feel each and every letter that hangs between us in this moment, thick between us like a fog. I can't seem to breathe.

The only thing that seems real is the hot tears falling down my cheeks and the sight of my father's downturned smile. There is so much pity there, or maybe it's remorse in the way one is remorseful for not appreciating a song the first time it's played through. It's the missing of the baseline and the way the bridge carries through to the end of the score. His eyes are gentle, in the way roses are- pricking, piercing from just the right angle.

"It's been a long time, Dad, I've missed you," The words have been hidden in the spaces between my molars, stuck there so long I barely recognized their honesty as they fell from my tongue. My lips catch on their sharp edges and I swallow down the acrid taste of bile and copper. Wiping at the new found streaks of tears, smearing them across the heat of my cheeks, my fingers come back tinged with watery mascara smudges.

"It's been too long, Birdie, sweet pea, too long," There's a slight hesitation in his tone, but it's all too genuine, in a way that makes my stomach turn. The nausea isn't new, not today. "How was-" I know he's going to ask about the last year, about the travel and the time spent in-between our arguments but I can't keep the words from slipping off of my tongue.

"I need to know about your Aviators," He stops, the words hitting him straight in the face leaving mouth hanging open mid sentence. His eyebrows scrunch with the narrowing of his gaze, the confusion evident in the way his head cocks gently to one side before he straightens it right back again. Parts of my father are slipping past the Admiral, like sand through fingertips, but he does everything he can to hold onto his hardened exterior.

"My Aviators?" There is so much hidden in the way the syllables crackle from his throat. He looks as though he has words still stuck to the roof of his mouth, words he keeps tonguing at to keep them hidden behind his teeth.

"I- yes," My brain is spiraling just a little to fast for my mouth to keep up. I can almost feel the way my nervous system is spiking, my neurons firing as my tongue tries to say the words in the forefront of my mind. The deep breath I force into my lungs does nothing to slow my thoughts, but my father's shoulders relax at the sight of my own shoulders dropping slightly. It's a shallow effort but it helps, if only a little.

"I met one of your Aviators today, at the airport," He nods in understanding, "Blond, tall, from Texas. Super nice. Said his name was Jake,"

"Jake?" My father huffs out, scrubbing a hand over his face. "A Texan with one of those shit eating grins?"

"He had a nice smile, if that's what you mean," I reason. The feeling of an impending argument is like static in the air, the hair on my arms standing on end as gooseflesh breaks out over my bare skin. That feeling is acknowledged with a quick glance between us, a look that has him moving closer to his desk. He picks up a framed photograph from it's corner before holding it out to me. I finally move closer, separating some of the distance between us. It's strange, being so close together after spending so long apart. I often wonder if that's how all children's relationships with their parents are after they grow up, or if my father and I are stuck in a unique form of perpetual misunderstanding. I take the photograph from his hand.

"This him?" He points at a man in the back row of the photograph, big smile and kind eyes. It's definitely him, that much I am certain of. There is just something so recognizable about that smile of his, the way the lines on either side of his mouth bend with a dash of mirth, bracketing perfect teeth. It's sick, really, how nice his teeth are.

There are a handful of other people shoved into the photograph together. Jake has his arm thrown around another man who sports a mustache and messy hair. That man looks at Jake like he emits pure light. Eyes squinted slightly with a smile too big to be contained with a closed jaw. That's Rooster. That's Jake's soulmate. There's no other explanation as to why the blond would be holding the other man so incredibly close, with his hands gripping into the material of Rooster's flight suit.

To Jake's other side is a woman. Her smile is smaller, almost practiced, but true joy emits from her eyes. With slicked back hair and sharp brows, she looks all business, like a woman not to be fucked with. But a friend, maybe? Her nametape is too small to read, but as one of the only women in the squad, she won't be too hard to pick out of the crowd. It's the man standing next to her that throws me. Another familiar face stands to her side, Rhett, only with shorter hair and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. My eyebrows scrunch, mimicking my father's expression.

"Yeah, that's him," I confirm, my eyes still tracking over the faces in the photograph.

"Why do you ask, sweet pea?"

"I met a man on accident, really, his name is Rhett, and his friend was with him, this man here, Jake. We actually ended up on the same flight" I watch my father nod in understanding, one of his hands coming up to brush at his nonexistent five o'clock shadow. I huff, averting my eyes for the next part. "I might have had my soulmate sentence encounter earlier this afternoon," The confession is sheepish at best. I don't meet his eyes. There's no point. I know the expression he wears now and I know I can't handle it in this moment. There's already been enough crying.

"Was it with him? With Hangman?" I watch from the corner of my eye as my father's eyebrows knit together impossibly tighter. His voice is pinched at the callsign, lips tight around it.

"Yes, it was him, but that's not really the point, Dad," My eyes trail over him in the photograph again, but I'm pulled back to Rhett, confusion gnawing inside of my skull, just behind my eyes, "How old is this photograph, because this is Rhett right here, and he told me he wasn't military," I want to ask him if he really knows his aviators all that well, considering the lack of acknowledgement on his features.

"That photo was taken after their last mission, wasn't more than a few weeks ago, right after they all graduated their advanced training. It's recent, and there's nobody in that squad named Rhett,"

"There has to be! This is him, right here next to that woman. I swear it's him!" My fingernail, all chipped polish and sparkles, clinks against the glass, my father leaning closer to get a better look before plucking the frame from my gently shaking hands.

"Sweet pea, I think you're mistaken," His tone sounds like his words are treading a minefield somewhere deep in his throat. I can't help but cough at the thought. That tension bristles between us again, electric like a storm. My fingers knit through my hair to keep from chipping more of my nail polish from my already scraped up nails.

"That," My father taps the glass with his finger, "Is Lieutenant Floyd"

"Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Floyd," There's a faux confidence in his tone, the same one he used to use when he would call home to say he'd only be gone a little while longer.

"Dad," I raise my eyebrows as I finally swing my eyeline back up to meet his, "What is Lieutenant Floyd's first name?"

He sputters a bit, a hand rubbing at the lack of stubble on his chin. There's a sort of furrow to his brow, one I recognize, even if the rest of his features are laid out in a way I have never come to know. My father has always been a sure man, steadfast in his actions, information spread out in his brain easy to access. This grappling for an answer is unlike him, but it makes him seem impossibly more human. 

"Oh, Dad," The words are spoken with slight exasperation laced in the low chuckle that springs forth from deep within my chest. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'll just ask the very nice Lieutenant who let me in earlier, she seemed... knowledgeable," 

I am met with the deep roll of my father's eyes, his hands no longer scrubbing over his face, instead he rubs carefully at his temples. His reaction makes me grip a little harder at my hair. It's stupid, this battle between us. Something left over from the strife of my youth; what we clung to with white knuckles and bloody nail beds just to keep a semblance of a relationship. It's all adolescent animosity stripped to adulthood anonymity, achingly arduous. 

"Honestly, Birdie," The words travel on an exhale, "I don't know his first name. Hell, I don't know most of them, especially if they don't give me trouble. I've always called him Lieutenant, barely ever needed Floyd tacked on the end,"

My father shrugs his shoulders unceremoniously, plopping the photograph back down onto the corner of his desk. He leans back into the long line of his desk, his usually pristine tan uniform wrinkling with the way he almost folds in on himself. My tongue flicks over my teeth as I fight the grimace I can feel rising over my features. I try and school my face back into pleasant nonchalance, much like my father usually does, however I think it's a skill better mastered with each star pinned to his collar. 

"Can I say something?" There's too much honesty in the way the words crackle out. I nod; it's easier that way. My hands find home near my hips, my thumbs tucked into my belt loops in a shallow attempt to keep from continuing the pull on my roots. 

"For what feels like forever now, it's just been you, your brother and I against the world. Just the three of us, and I know not having your mother has been one of the most challenging things, for all of us. I know there has always been this bond that Arrow and I have had, and maybe it's because he is my son, or because he decided that the Navy was his calling too. Either way, I know that there's a foundation there, one that you and I just don't have," I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I do my best to blink them back. The more he speaks, the more the sight of him swims. 

"But, I want you to know that even though you and I have struggled," There's a little trace of humor there, but neither of us comment on it, "I love you so fucking much, kid. So much that my chest aches. And I knew this day was coming- your soulmate encounter. God, kid, I am so excited for you, but so fucking scared because you're my baby bird and I don't want anything bad to happen to you, I love you too much," 

There are tears steaking down his cheeks, a sight I haven't seen since my mother passed away. It makes my own chest ache in turn, seeing the strongest man I have ever known begin to crumble. With two quick steps, I am in my father's embrace. His arms are warm, cradling me into his chest, my face into the sandalwood scent of his collar. The stars pinned there less of an obstacle between us, now. He lets a land run over my spine, palm flat to my back, the warmth pooling through my top.

"I'll love you no matter what, kid, even if your soulmate is some military rat like me," He laughs,  low and rumbling, into my hair. 

"I love you, too, Dad, so much," I mumble into his collarbone, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I can feel my tears sinking into the cotton of his shirt, the tan darkening with moisture. He doesn't seem to mind, or if he does, he doesn't say a thing. We stand there like that for a while, embracing. It's my father who breaks the silence. 

"So, kid," He clears his throat in an attempt to hide the mangled bit to tears that still sits on the back of his tongue, "Tell me, how did it all happen? What did Hangman say?" The distaste in my father's tone is evident. I pull away from the embrace with a rueful laugh, one that stirs around that anxious feeling that's been ever present since the airport. 

"Well," The word is all sigh, "Jake, Hangman or whatever you call him, was on the phone listening to his voicemail and Rhett had asked him who the message was from, you know? It was a pretty long message," I babble out the last sentence, trying to get to the point, but the words are stuck somewhere under my tongue. 

My father just nods at me, allowing me the space to continue. Instead, I plop down into one of the chairs that sits in front of his desk, ones that are meant for official meetings rather than anxiety soaked realizations. I scrub a hand over my face before winding my fingers through my hair again, gentler this time. He stares at me, patient eyes and expression neutral. It's practiced, but genuine. I stare at he ground in front of my shoes when I can no longer meet his gaze. 

"Rhett asked who it was," I begin again, back tracking a bit, "And Jake looked at him and said Oh, it's just Bob and that was it. I've had these words on my skin for so long that I thought hearing them would be so easy, but Dad, I panicked," 

"Oh Birdie, it's okay," My father hums, giving me a small grin on the side of reassurance, "It's not always like the stories, the fairytales are just to give us hope, but that's not how life is supposed to play out. It's alright," 

"It gets worse," My words are wet, "I ran, Dad, I ran. I heard him say that and I ran out of the airport and into the first cab I could find. I came straight here, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't even stick around to figure out exactly who Bob is to Jake. God, this whole situation gives me as much anxiety as a baby on board a pond jumper, look at me, I'm shaking like a fucking leaf." 

"What did you just say?" 

"I said I'm shaking like a leaf, look at me!" I laugh, but it catches in my throat and comes out all gargled. I hold my hands out, watching the way they tremor at the thought of it all. 

"No, not that," My father shakes his head, "The thing about the pond jumper," 

"I dunno, Dad, it was an analogy," I reply, it's all furrowed brows and tired voice. as if it could be anything else at this point. I watch my father's expression turn quizzical, his eyes tracking though the air as if he's watching a hop. His nose twitches for a second before he schools his expression back. His hands tighten a bit around the edge of his desk, then he's clicking his tongue to punctuate a sort of silent eureka moment. 

"Come with me, kid, I think there's someone we need to go talk to," Then he's pushing himself form the desk and heading towards the door with the same conviction the Admiral meets everything with.  

"What?" I push myself from my seat but can't keep my shoulders from sagging. He's stopped at the door, turning back to offer just a hint more. 

"I think you and I need to go see Captain Mitchell," There's distain in his voice at the name. I bite at my lower lip, tucking my hands back through my belt loops. 

"Why do we need to see Captain Michell? Isn't he the man you can't stand?" I ask, following after him. The whole thing seems futile but a curiosity thrums between my ribs. We pass the nice Lieutenant's desk, her seat vacant, before turning down the hall. It's not long before we are out on the air field and heading towards one of the large carriers.

[missathlete31]

Left Behind Chapter 5

Masterlist for Previous Chapters

Link to my Ao3 page

Chapter Summary- information from an unlikely source gets the ball rolling for some unorthodox actions. The truth of what happened to Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is getting closer!

Every time Pete "Maverick" Mitchell walked through the halls of Top Gun, he was assaulted with the memories of ghosts. The first time around, when he was just a stupidly naive kid, it was the ghost of his father Duke that stalked him. It had him driven to be the best, to be the fastest, to amend what the Navy and the records said about Duke Mitchell. The uncertainty around his father's final actions in Vietnam, the ultimate reason Pete himself was denied entry into the Naval Academy, seemed like the worst sort of haunting that life could throw at someone like Maverick. But of course life was also so much crueler.

Losing Goose and having to return to Top Gun seemed insurmountable. To return to flying in general seemed even harder. Maverick was not the same person after losing his RIO. Nick Bradshaw was a good man, perhaps the best man that Pete had ever met in his life, and losing him, with Pete at the helm of the plane; well the Lieutenant didn't think he could ever fly again. Viper helped him though, got him back in the sky while also setting the ghost of his father free. Maverick was able to continue the career that he loved so much, letting Goose be a spirit that helped the young pilot become a better aviator, instead of hindering him.

It still wasn't easy; his short tenure as a Top Gun Instructor the first time around told him that, but Pete thought he was managing well all things considering. He left Miramar, left Top Gun and its memories behind, flying all over the world for missions and test piloting, and when his behavior warranted it, for punishments. The ghosts receded, or at least they quieted, allowing Pete to not exactly find peace, but to live, in the way only men like Pete Mitchell could live, with no real roots.

Everything turned on its head though for the suicide mission. Not only was Maverick brought back to the place he had spent so hard trying to avoid but now he had all three Bradshaws haunting him. There was Bradley; all grown up and known as Rooster now, a 35 year old man who still looked like the young eight year old that used to snuggle up close to Pete and watch baseball games or listen to stories of his latest deployment; except he had his father's mustache, and his father shirts, and his father's car- but not his father's temperament. No, Rooster was angry. Bradley had defied his setbacks, had become everything his mother had feared and Pete tried to stop. He was one of the best of the best. Perhaps the best, if he only got out of his own head, and seeing Maverick again for the first time in 16 years was not the remedy to that. If anything it made things all the more difficult.

Then there was the ghost of Carole, a woman that Maverick owed so much to and yet he always felt he was letting her down. She had lost her husband, her son lost his father and yet Carole made it her mission in life to also make sure that Pete survived the loss of his best friend. She kept him around, kept him as kin, knowing that while she and Bradley benefited from his presence, Mav was desperate for theirs. They became their own little family, unorthodox, but hell what in Pete's life wasn't. All she wanted in return, all she had ever asked in return, was for Maverick to not allow Bradley to follow in his father's footsteps. A mother's love begging him to ruin a young man's dream. It was an impossible situation but who was Pete to deny Carole anything after everything she did for him. So he did it, he pulled the papers, and for so long the cost seemed too much to take.

Seeing that Bradley had still done it, become a Navy Pilot, academy be damned, was both the most proud and the most frightened he had ever been for the boy. Seeing Rooster's photo on Admiral Simpson's screen, chosen for a suicide mission that all but ensured his name etched on a tombstone, had almost broken Maverick more than he could ever say. But still he knew he had to pick him. He couldn't be the reason the youngest Bradshaw was held back anymore, no matter how disappointed the ghost of Carole would be at him.

He wondered what Goose would think of everything. Was he somewhere up in heaven, consoling his wife and telling her that Bradley was meant for the sky the minute he was born? That having Pete pull his papers was never going to stop the inevitable and only wasted precious time that Mav would have given anything to have gotten back. Would Nicholas "Goose" Bradshaw, Pete's constant ghostly companion, see that all his best friend was trying to do was protect Nick's son, and not just his life but his heart? Maverick hoped he did, he hoped with everything he had.

Right before the mission Pete added another ghost to his circuit, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. A man he hated so viscerally in the beginning who ended up being the greatest wingman Maverick could ever ask for. Ice protected him: from ghosts, memories, pissed off admirals and from Pete himself; whatever threatened Mav had to go through the Iceman first. Pete was forever grateful for all the sacrifice and string-pulling the other man had done for him over the years. It was no secret that Mitchell would have been kicked out of the navy and most likely dead in a ditch somewhere if it weren't for Ice. Losing him made Pete feel exposed in a way he was never familiar with, as though his last line of defense was gone and an enemy's bogey finally got tone on him. It pushed Mav to be more reckless, similar to how he was the first time he went to Top Gun but for a different purpose. He didn't want to be the best anymore, he wanted to show the Daggers that they were. He stole the plane from the base and took it through the course to prove it could be done, all the while hearing Ice chastise him in his head but also encourage him, getting him through turns faster and cutting precious seconds. With no Admiral to protect him anymore, Mav assumed the move would finally give him the walking papers he always seemed to be able to elude, but then in some sort of divine (thanks Ice) intervention, Simpson actually kept him on, not letting him go on the mission, but allow him to continue to teach, getting the rest of the team ready to do the impossible.

And it was impossible wasn't it? Because now there was a new ghost on Maverick's tail.

This one was blonde like Ice, and cocky like Mav, but this man was young, painfully so, and his death while so different from Goose's, felt just as much Maverick's responsibility. Jake Seresin was shot down while Pete was stuck on the carrier listening on Comms. The kid's jet sent careening down to the ground after Hangman took the missile for Bradley, a move Mav himself would have made in less than a heartbeat. Bradley lived and Jake died. Maverick wished every day since that it was him up there instead.

Hearing Coyote's anger in the debrief after the others got back, his ire harsh and cold as he blamed everyone for leaving Jake behind, destroyed Mav in its validity. After all Pete's lectures of teamwork and never leaving wingmen, that was exactly what he and the rest of the pilots did, they left Lieutenant Seresin. Whether dead or alive was irrelevant, not one plane turned around. Not one person dared to look.

The ghost of the mission, of his decisions, of his team's, was the most bitter of the ones chasing Maverick. He didn't think it was livable, was almost sure it wasn't, if it weren't for Rooster. The loss of Jake made Bradley all but cling to Pete now. There wasn't a day that the two men weren't seeing each other, or if they couldn't see each other they were calling or texting. Bradley, just as haunted by the cocky blonde, punched his anger into Mav's hangar's walls, cried his guilt out on Pete's couch and debated his future with his godfather.

Maverick finally got Bradley back in his life and he knew he should be grateful. This was the second chance he had always dreamed of. It was just the culpability that he felt because of it, for feeling joy or indebted for the death of another, made him sick to his stomach. He could barely stand to look at himself most days.

Today though, he was called back to Top Gun for a meeting with Admiral Simpson. Pete wished he could decline, not wanting to leave Bradley after he came home from the Hard Deck looking especially fraught last night, but Maverick knew he couldn't blow this off. Simpson had been incredibly accommodating since everything had happened. He had lobbied for an extended leave for the Dagger Squad as they mourned. He kept therapists on base at all times for anyone that needed and he had already hinted to Pete that he was filing to keep the team together and a permanent residence of Miramar unless deployed on missions. Pete was forever grateful for the testy Admiral for that one.

"Rear Admiral" a voice called out in greeting and Pete looked up from his musing in the hallway to see Warlock watching him. It took Maverick a few seconds to remember that was his new title, still not believing that the promotion finally happened. It was in recognition for the success of the mission, but how the loss of a young man's life could ever be deemed a success was beyond the newly promoted man.

"Bates" Pete spoke back offering his hand once he got close enough. Solomon shook it promptly before eyeing the man in front of him with a critical eye. "How are you doing" the older man asked, obvious concern in his tone.

Maverick shrugged, "worried about the team," he admitted honestly, "the leave is almost up. I'm not sure how they will all do coming back here."

Bates nodded his head, "it's never easy but Simpson already organized for another psych eval before they are allowed up in the air again. Any one that needs extra time will get it, no questions asked."

"What if it's all of them?"

The darker skinned man merely shrugged, "then it's all of them. There's no timetable here Maverick, you know that. When they are ready, they are ready. And if it gets to a point that they never are, well we will find support staffing positions for them. The Navy is not abandoning these kids," he tilted his head to make sure he met Mitchell's green eyes, "we are not abandoning these kids" he added.

"Thanks Warlock," Mav spoke genuinely, "that means a lot."

"Come on" the older man urged, motioning for him to keep walking, "Beau's waiting."

Pete nodded, following Warlock the rest of the way through the building and into Simpson's office. There inside the higher Admiral was pacing by his window; similar to how he was the day Maverick stole the plane to prove the mission could be done. When Simpson was in a conundrum, he paced his way through his thoughts, a tick that Pete had picked on after their very first meeting years ago. Beau's face was guarded as he looked through the blinds, cloudy with thought but Pete couldn't be sure if it was to say good news or bad. The newly minted Rear Admiral stood at attention in front of Simpson's desk, Bates moving to take the spot he always took on the side.

"Rear Admiral Mitchell" Simpson turned around with a loud exhale, not even bothering with preamble. He stood tall against the backdrop of the tarmacs behind him, eyeing the shorter man who had just entered with a stern and stony expression, "What I'm about to tell you does not leave this room, do you understand me?"

Maverick snuck a glance to Warlock to see what this was all about but the older man had his normal poker face on. Turning back to Beau, Pete managed a nod, "Yes Sir."

But Cyclone wasn't convinced. He moved across the room, coming to a stop behind his desk but remaining standing. The seasoned Admiral planted his hands upon the wood of the surface top, leaning over to face his junior. His voice teetered with a shocking desperation, "I mean it Mitchell," he urged stoutly "this stays here. You can't tell Penny Benjamin, you can't tell Lieutenant Bradshaw, you can't even say it out loud to Admiral Kazansky's grave."

Now Pete was worried. Cyclone wasn't prone to get emotional and yet here he stood looking like someone kicked his puppy and then blamed him on it. "Beau?" Mav murmured, forgetting decorum for a moment, "What is it? What's happened?"

A shaky hand ran through Simpson's hair, but he dropped it halfway through to fiddle with some papers on his desk. He kept his eyes downcast as he spoke in a poorly attempted monotone, "The Defense Intelligence Agency sent in a Special Ops team to the area of the Uranium plant" he shared, finally looking back up. Beau wasn't surprised to see the concern on Maverick's face, the worry that everything that happened during their mission was for naught. Simpson cleared his throat, "They had heard whispers that it might not be completely inoperable after our bombings. That there might have been another area still functioning enough to be reassembled. The team the DIA sent in faced some resistance, two Americans lost their lives."

Maverick swallowed audibly, struggling to find his voice, "That's..." he frowned, "I'm sorry to hear that Sir, does that mean the plant is back up and running?"

"It was certainly looking that way" the Admiral explained, "but the team placed charges before they got out of there, destroying every last piece of it."

The relief coming from Mitchell was palpable, "That's good" he all but whispered, "I- I would hate for the mission to have been for nothing."

"As would we" Simpson shared. Pete assumed the conversation was over but Cyclone still looked like he had something on his mind. The CO looked over to Bates a few times, the two having a silent conversation that put Mav even more on edge. "Sir?" he incited, "was that all you needed or-"

"No" Beau shook his head, "there's more. I just-" he huffed out a breath, still looking at his second in command every so often, "you have to understand that this news is not to be taken lightly."

His curiosity was too peaked, Pete was practically ready to throttle Cyclone until he spilled, "What news?"

"Pete" It was Warlock's voice now, clearly having drawn the short straw from the two Admiral's silence standoff, "they took a prisoner during the raid."

"Okay?" Maverick was confused, not quite sure what the other men was getting at. "What does this have to do with us?" he questioned. "Something with the raid?"

Cyclone closed his eyes, looking double his age, "The man they captured is claiming to know the whereabouts of an American POW, but he wants clemency in exchange for his information."

"Clemency for killing those American soldiers?"

"Yes" Both Simpson and Bates answered in unison.

Pete furrowed his brow, "Jesus, well you said it was the DIA right so they will deal with that-"

"The man claims the POW is Navy" Warlock's voice shook just the most indecipherable bit.

Green eyes flashed over to the left, "What?"

Simpson cleared his throat, getting the attention back on himself. He met Mitchell's stare, his eyes sympathetic for the bomb he knew he was about to drop. "The prisoner they picked up is more specifically claiming it's a Naval Pilot they have. One shot down in the area."

Pete's body stuttered for a moment, the shock of his commander's words leaving him reeling, "You don't-" he inhaled sharply, "you can't be saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm not saying anything" Beau answered tentatively, "and we do nobody any favors making assumptions-"

"Assumptions?" Subordination was thrown out the window as Maverick all but leaned towards the Admiral's desk. He clutched at the wood's edge with a desperate hold, "What other Navy Pilot has been shot down and unaccounted for in that area-"

"But he is accounted for" Simpson immediately interrupted, trying to shut down Pete's hopes before they got too high although everyone in the room could see it was killing him to do it. "Seresin's body was found in his plane-"

Maverick shook his head, ignoring his commander's argument, "But you said it was burned! Maybe-"

But Admiral Simpson had continued speaking, undeterred by Maverick's interruption, only raising his voice louder to be heard, "-wearing his uniform, his dog tags-"

The shorter man kept speaking himself, "It doesn't mean for sure-"he all but yelled back.

"It doesn't," the Admiral finally conceded raising a hand to stop Pete from speaking over him once more, "but it's not as simple as you think Mitchell."

"What does that mean?"

"First" and Cyclone tried to keep his tone measured, "this is all under the assumption of reliability of the word of an enemy of the United States of America." He gave Pete a pointed stare, "An enemy that killed three soldiers. We have to give credence to the fact that this man is going to try anything to avoid spending the rest of his life as a prisoner."

"I get that" Pete admitted truthfully. "But he said a navy pilot- how could he have known-"

"If he was stationed in the area he would have seen the bombing" Warlock answered from his perch to the side. He too looked pained to argue with Maverick but there were a lot of variables to be considered. "He would have seen the planes" the older man continued, "Hell maybe he saw Seresin get shot down-"

"Yes Sir but-"

"Maverick," Beau sighed, "there is also the chance that Hangman was alive after his crash and was found by this man and his countrymen" his voice wavered. "They could have killed him themselves or left him to die. Either way he would know enough about Seresin to use information about his final moments to try to curry his own favor. He could very easily pretend Hangman is alive to try to get home himself."

Mav's face fell, knowing in his head that Cyclone had solid points no matter how much his heart was wishing this was all true. Suddenly something clicked, Pete lighting up like a light bulb above his head, "An Autopsy!" he exclaimed excitedly, a bit too loud for the somber emotions of the room.

Simpson startled, "excuse me?"

"Was an autopsy done on the body recovered?" Maverick all but begged. When Cyclone didn't react he turned to Warlock, "was it?"

"You read the reports Mitchell," Bates chimed in weakly, "you know the damage that body sustained."

"It was charred beyond recognition yes" Pete spoke faster, trying not to picture what the files said Jake Seresin had been reduced to. God how he hoped it wasn't really the blonde, "so tests should have been ran-"

Simpson shoulders hunched a bit in guilt, "It was found with the remains of an American flight suit, wearing Seresin's tags and in his plane. If Lieutenant Machado or even Hangman's parents would have asked for further testing, the Navy would have of course complied but to do it unprompted?" The man shook his head, "That was never going to happen."

"So can we do it now?"

"Do you understand what you're asking? We can't just dig up the grave on a whim-"

But Pete was not going to let this go so lightly. Yes the thought of digging up a body was not exactly the ideal but the thought that Hangman could be alive and they didn't do everything in their power to make sure seemed even worse, "What if Javy asked for it now" he asked seriously, "Or even Jake's parents, then you would have to!"

Simpson looked stricken, "I don't think it would be wise to inform Machado about this situation until we have more information" he all but ordered.

Maverick's face reddened in anger, "Don't you think he would want to know if his friend was alive? Don't you think he deserves to know?"

"I think it would be crueler to get his hopes up for nothing" the higher ranking man said rather simply, "there is too much here we still are unsure about. And to be frank the decision isn't even in our hands. I have to talk to my CO about how to proceed, and then of course talk to the DIA about their interrogations with the prisoner-"

"But-"

"We are taking this at my pace Mitchell" Simpson dictated sternly. "Let me get more information and we can go from there."

"Sit and wait while Hangman could be alive, tortured even as a prisoner of war-"

"Maverick" Bates cautioned as Pete's voice continued to rise.

"No, you owe it to Seresin, to Machado, to the whole team, to get this going. Give me the paperwork, I'll have Javy fill it out. Let's see if the prisoner's story holds merit on our own Beau, screw the DIA interrogations."

Cyclone stayed silent for a moment, clearly thinking over Mitchell's proposal. Finally he sighed, looking like his whole body deflated. "Take the files" he handed the papers over to the Rear Admiral, "but nothing to the others until I tell you. I mean it Maverick" he warned one last time when Pete met his eye, "you say nothing."

With a strength he didn't think he could muster, Maverick managed to nod his head in agreement. He clutched the paperwork tighter in his left hand and offered the two Admirals a salute. "Understood Sir" he managed before he was dismissed with a heavy heart and a heavier mind.

The minute he was out of the office Cyclone fell to his chair, his head collapsing into his palms, "he's going to tell them" the man spoke out roughly, not exactly angry over the prospect but feeling so utterly helpless about the entire situation.

"Yeah" Bates conceded with a nod. "He probably is."

And so not two days later the door to Admiral Simpson’s office was barged open by an irate Javy Machado, accompanied by an even angrier Bradley Bradshaw, a protective Natasha Trace and a timid Bob Floyd. Maverick, coming in behind them but offering a few words of apology to Beau’s shocked secretary first, had the good grace to look sheepish upon his own entrance.

“I’d like to ask for an autopsy for Lieutenant Jake Seresin” Javy began, all but throwing the paperwork on his CO’s desk. “Everything is signed, and I even wrote a formal letter to go with it.”

“Damn it Mitchell” Simpson looked around the Lieutenants, catching the eye of his Rear Admiral, “I told you not to say anything yet."

“With all due respect Sir” and Rooster’s tone was hovering over the line of insubordination, “Rear Admiral Mitchell didn’t tell anyone anything, we happen to catch a glimpse of the paperwork-“

“Catch a glimpse?” Simpson interrupted, crossing his arms tersely, “does that mean you snooped or he purposely left it out?” It took everything in his power for the man not to roll his eyes at the numerous looks of indignation from the squad.

“I don’t know how they were left out Sir” Maverick tried to explain, his green eyes wide at the sense that the others would get in trouble, “but it wasn’t the kids' faults. Once they saw it they demanded to know what this was all about-“

“They can demand all they want-”

"Please Sir-" Coyote cut in, "if there's a chance Jake is alive out there..." he trailed off, emotions caught in his throat, "please" he begged, stepping back and allowing Phoenix to wrap a comforting arm around him.

"This is all based on conjecture by a prisoner, you must all understand-"

"We know Sir" Rooster nodded, still angry but visibly trying to tone it down, "but don't we owe it to Hangman to see for sure?"

"What you are asking for is not something I can just okay. Even with Lieutenant Machado's formal request, I spoke to the brass. They need Seresin's parents to sign off on it-"

"What!" Javy looked close to murder, "those pieces of shit couldn't care less about Jake and yet it's in their hands-"

"Machado calm your tone" Cyclone warned icily but now Rooster looked ready to cut in. "I mean it" the Admiral snapped, "remember who you are talking to."

"We're sorry Sir" Bob cut in, trying to play peacekeeper before half the group was written up for misconduct violations for yelling at their commander, "but we don't understand. Coyote was Jake's emergency contact and his beneficiary. Doesn't his say count?"

"Unfortunately not" Simpson shared sadly, and he really did look mortified to share this new information, "the brass made it very clear. That was why I didn't want to inform you all of this development right away."

"When were you going to tell us," Rooster asked, frustration dripping from his tone, "Sir" he added at the end when Bob gave him a hard nudge.

"When I had something more to say Lieutenant" Beau didn't even cower under the angry glares. "I've been trying to get in contact with the Seresin's in Texas. When I do and I explain the situation, hopefully we can get their okay and move forward but until that time-"

"They aren't going to answer the phone Sir" Javy informed him in desperation, "You don't understand them, they hated Jake, hated the Navy, they aren't going to call you back."

"Lieutenant-"

"We should go to them" Maverick offered up, earning a devastatingly irate look from his CO, "just a suggestion Sir" he murmured under the glare.

"I agree" Rooster concurred, "let's go see them in person.

"I understand your frustrations, really I do" Cyclone implored. "But planning a trip to ambush the Seresins is not the answer. Let me reach out more and maybe-"

"No" Javy shook his head, "Jake's dad is a grade A asshole. You want to get his attention you need to get in his face. We show up in Texas and he won't be able to ignore us."

"Lieutenant Machado I-"

"Please Sir" Phoenix stepped up, her eyes suspiciously red, "please let us try. For Jake." The others nodded around her, all looking in various stages of grief and despair, "Please."

Admiral Simpson felt his resolve falter, "if you were to go- hey" he called when he saw the group of pilots start to get excited, "you are still representing the Navy. You will act with decorum and decently, am I understood?"

"Yes Sir" they chorused.

Beau frowned, "I'll set up the transport" he told them, before pointing a finger at Maverick, "but you Mitchell need to accompany them, as the CO in this situation I expect you to act most appropriate of all."

"Of course Sir" Pete nodded, though a grin was appearing on his face, "I'll be the picture of professionalism."

"That means no threats, no acts of violence and so help me God if I find out that these papers were signed under duress."

None of the team would look Cyclone in the eye as they gave almost mockingly sense of reassurances. It did nothing to built Beau's confidence but he was just as desperate as the rest of them to get the Seresins help in all this. Choosing to be optimistic he motioned to the door, "I'll get my secretary to get the fight information to you all but imagine you'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon the latest."

"Thank you Sir" and Javy actually moved forward to shake Cyclone's hand, "thank you. I- I really appreciate your help with this."

"I miss him too Lieutenant" he murmured frankly, surprised to see the shocked looks on the team's faces. Did he really come off as that much of a hard-ass? He chose not to answer that himself, instead Beau gave Coyote's hand a tight squeeze, "we will figure this out, alright? I promise."

"Thank you Sir" and if Javy sounded like he was crying, the whole group opted not to remark on it.

Simpson nodded to Maverick, "Dismissed" he waved them all out of his office. The minute they were out, Beau looked down at his desk, noticing Seresin's file that seemed to be a permanent fixture lately. The Admiral didn't know what he was hoping for anymore, the thought that they could have buried the wrong man and that Hangman had been held prisoner and tortured for the past month making his stomach churn. But alive had to be better than not right? Especially if they could save him. The only question was though, would there be anything left to be saved.

“Beau”

Simpson looked up to see Warlock enter the room, “did you hearing all that?” he asked helplessly. “Mitchell left the papers out-“

“He didn’t actually” Bates offered a rueful look, “because I did.”

“You what!” Cyclone squawked.

“I left them out for Machado and the others to see" Warlock explained not even fazed by the other man's shock. "I knew Coyote would apply for the autopsy."

"Solomon" Beau's tone was scandalized as he looked at his wingman, "why would you..." his voice caught, "you knew we couldn't take Machado's request, it has to be from the Seresin family."

"Who haven't taken any of your six phone calls yet" the older man levied knowingly, "someone needs to go down there and convince them. Our hands are tied Beau but theirs aren't. Let them get the Seresins attention. Let them do what we can't."

"And if it's all for nothing? If it's really Seresin in that grave?"

"Then at least we all know the truth now, we owe it to Hangman to find it out."

"I know" Beau admitted softly, his voice cracking just the tiniest bit, "I think I'm just afraid to hear the truth myself."

Bates fixed him with a pitying look of solidarity, "me too Beau, me too."

The two seasoned Admirals fell into silence, both imagining the absolute worst but praying somehow, someway, for the absolute best. Maybe Jake Seresin was alive, maybe he wasn't but either way they were going to find out the truth, no matter what it cost.

[imaginesxthevamps]

OI OIII

can you do a smut about Brad getting a blowjob and him moaning and gasping???

Adventures on a boring party | Brad Simpson

Word count: +/- 2.1k

Date: 26/03/2023

Proofread: yes (language and grammar mistakes can still be present)

Warnings: smut (oral sex, m receiving), swearing

Tags: Brad Simpson, The Vamps, imagine, x reader, fanfiction, one shot, smut

A/N: Hello hello, I hope you like it :)) Thanks for your requests!!❤

______________________________

Brad gets out of his car, locking it up while walking away. The gravel rustles under his shoes as he is walking towards the building. In front of him there is an old but beautiful castle. A red carpet is rolled down the stairs which lead to the front door. He walks up the stairs which are also lit up by torches. A security man asks his identity to which Brad replies with his name. As he enters the building he can hear classical music echoing through the halls of the castle. With a sigh, he enters the ballroom where the event is taking place. He got an invitation from Jaguar, the car company, to this fancy party. Tomorrow there is a race not so far from the castle and they wanted to unite all the biggest car sports fans the evening before. It’s an exclusive party for sponsors, influencers, shareholders and the important people who work in the racing world. It has everything that an exclusive and fancy party should have: fancy food, classical music, and people in suits and fancy dresses. Despite all of it Brad is really not in the mood for such a fancy party although he has no choice. 

Brad takes a glass of champagne from a tray and takes a sip. His eyes are scanning the room to see if he recognises anyone. With another sigh, he tries to mingle with the other people. This is really not his scene so he doesn’t know what to do. Should he talk to people or not? 

‘You’re Brad Simpson right?’, someone taps him on the shoulder.

‘Yes, that’s me’

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Jason, one of the racers’, he introduces himself.

‘Nice to meet you Jason, so are you ready for tomorrow?’

‘Oh yeah I am, I’m also not staying long, I need a good night's sleep’

‘Wish I could say the same’

‘You don’t like these parties?’

‘No, it’s not really my thing but I don’t really have a choice since I’m sponsored’

‘Yeah I get that, just try to enjoy it a little bit, at least try the food, it’s the best part’, Jason laughs. 

‘Maybe I should do that then’

‘I have to go, good luck mate, it was great meeting you’

‘Yeah, you too’

As Jason leaves Brad takes another sip of his glass. Following the guy's advice he makes his way to the table where the food is stalled out. He takes a few things to eat and he needs to admit that the food is not bad. He drinks from his champagne before trying some other things. When his glass is empty he takes another one from a tray. 

Brad turns around and decides to leave the ballroom. He walks down one of the castle halls where it is quiet. A few people smile at him when they walk by. In the distance, he sees a girl who is staring at a painting that’s hanging on a wall. Her silhouette and her long hair look familiar. He steps closer and more of her features become visual. 

‘Y/N?’, he asks surprised.

You turn around and you can’t believe your eyes. You can’t believe that he is standing here in front of you. It’s been years since you’ve seen him. If you remember correctly it’s 5 years ago since you’ve seen each other. Both of you were 22 at the time. You had a fling with Brad, not something really serious. Your relationship back then was more focused on sex and pleasure but you were young. Neither of you had ended things back then, you just grew apart. Brad went on a world tour and you went to study on the other side of the world. The contact was lost. 

‘Brad? What are you doing here’, you ask surprised.

‘I got an invitation for this party, what are you doing here?’

‘My dad works in racing’

‘Yeah that’s right’

You can see that Brad is taking all of you in. His eyes are scanning over your body. He is looking at how your tight black dress is embracing your curves. He bites his lip slightly. You can’t also keep yourself from looking at him. You can see how his shoulders got broader just like his arms and chest. It’s only now that you realise how you’ve missed those chocolate brown curls. You swallow which Brad notices.

‘Maybe we should go back to the party’, you say. 

Brad follows you back to the ballroom. When you enter it you see your dad. He is smiling and coming your way. 

‘Hi Brad! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you!’, He says and gives Brad a brotherly hug. 

Your father and Brad always got along well. When he was at your house they would laugh and joke the whole evening. If they didn’t talk about cars they would talk about golf as your dad is also a golf fan. Luckily someone starts talking to your dad which gives you the opportunity to pull Brad away from your dad. You’re not really in the mood to listen to a conversation all night that only involves cars and golf. 

‘What are we going to do now?’, Brad asks.

‘Dance?’

‘We’re surely not going to slow dance on this music’, Brad sighs.

‘Oh we are, you've got a better idea?’, you smile and you pull him to the place where a few other couples are slow dancing. 

Brad takes you by the waist to dance. It feels weird to be here with him but it’s more fun than staring at a few paintings. 

‘So, how have you been?’, Brad asks.

‘Good, I finished uni in California and now I’m working for a company in London. How have you been doing?’

‘We’re celebrating the band’s 10-year anniversary this year, it’s been going well

You smile at him not really knowing what to say. He is looking extremely hot and all you can think of his how much fun you two had back then. To be honest it was the best time of your life. Sometimes the two of you would do reckless things like driving around in the middle of the night or exploring places you weren’t really allowed to do that. 

‘I’m bored’, you say.

‘You were the one who wanted to dance’, Brad laughs.

‘What if we go discover this castle?’

‘Are we allowed to?’

‘I don’t know but do we care?’

Brad smiles and both of you leave the ballroom again through the same door. You’re wandering through the halls of the castle. The details of the interior are impressive. You open a door that makes a lot of noise. Brad looks at you with a scared face.

‘Y/N, do you really want people to hear us?’

‘Oh come on Brad, you weren’t so scared when we did this years ago’

Brad sighs as you walk into a big room. You guess it’s a big dining room as there is a long table with chairs. Brad follows you as you inspect the room. You touch a statue and you hear Brad sigh again behind you.

‘Please, you’re going to break something’

To provoke him you sit down on the table and Brad rolls his eyes. He stands before you and you take his hands in yours in an impulsive action. Brad looks surprised but he doesn’t let go of your hands. You pull him closer until he is standing between your legs. 

‘I’ve missed you Bradley’, you say. 

‘I’ve missed you too y/n’

Brad stares into your eyes and you bite your lip. Your fingers are playing with his and you can feel the contrast between his warm fingers and his cold rings. Brad’s eyes never leave yours and it feels like time stands still. It feels like you and Brad are the only people on this world. Brad can’t handle it anymore and pushes his lips onto yours. His warm lips are moving against yours and you can taste the champagne on them. His tongue slips into your mouth and you moan in the kiss. Unaware you pull Brad closer to you and you’re grinding against his crotch. The anticipation is building up as the kiss is getting more heated. You can feel Brad getting hard which turns you on.

‘We should take this to another place’, Brad says out of breath.

‘The guests are staying in the other wing, I have a room there to stay the night’, you say. 

You take Brad’s hand and make your way to the other wing. To go there you have to pass the ballroom again as it is on the other side. The halls on this side of the castle are more restored and the rooms are furnished as hotel rooms. You open the door of your room and walk in. You close the door when both of you are in. You turn around to Brad again and you start kissing him again. Your hand is going over his length which becomes even harder under your touch. 

Gently you push Brad onto the bed so he is sitting at the end of it. You walk towards him and sit on your knees. You unbutton his pants and Brad helps you to get out of his pants and boxers. His dick is hard and almost touches his belly. Slowly your hand moves over his length and you get wet only looking at his dick. Brad is looking at you with his eyes filled with lust and you look at him while you take his cock into your mouth. You start to suck on the tip and Brad closes his eyes. You take it further into your mouth while you go up and down. Brad moans and throws his head back. You try to take his whole dick into your mouth but it’s difficult because of how big he is. You take him out of your mouth again and you pump him with your hand. Pre-cum is coming out of the tip and as soon as you take him back into your mouth you can taste it. 

'Fuck y/n, your lips always feel so good around my dick', Brad moans. 

While you're sucking on Brad's cock, your hand is going up and down at the base of it, giving him extra pleasure. To add to that you start to gently play with his balls with your other hand. Brad gasps from all the pleasure you're giving him. 

Brad looks down on you to see how you're sucking his dick and he loves the view. He loves how your body looks in that tight dress. He loves the way you're being so desperate for him right now. Nobody could ever make him feel this good like you do. 

'How I've missed these lips, take it all in baby', Brad groans and throws his head back again. 

His moans are getting harder. You try to take him as deep as you can. His dick is hitting the back of your throat, almost making you gag. You can feel his dick twitching inside your mouth, indicating he is close. You're going up and down faster. Your tongue is playing with his tip, making him go crazy. One of Brad's hands is gripping your hair while the other is keeping him steady on the bed. 

'Fuck y/n baby, I'm-, fuck', Brad moans out.

Loud groans are leaving Brad's mouth while his hot load is filling your mouth. You get his cock out of your mouth. His cum tastes salty but you swallow it. Brad looks at you and he smiles.

'Babe, this was amazing', he says.

You love the way he calls you babe, he used to do it all the time when you were together. You stand up and sit on his lap while you throw your arms around his neck. 

'Only for you', you say smiling.

Brad kisses you softly this time. A meaningful kiss which tingles on your lips. His lips moving slowly against yours while his hands are on the small of your back. After the kiss you rest your forehead against Brad's. 

'What do we do now?', Brad asks.

'I don't know, I don't-', you can't get out of your words.

'Tell me y/n'

'I don't want to lose you again'

Brad takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. His eyes aren't dark and filled with lust anymore, now they are the brightest brown looking soft. A small smile is playing on his lips.

'I promise you, you won't lose me again princess', Brad promises.

Gently Brad kisses you again and it feels like your life lights up again. It's only now you realize how much you've missed him all these years.

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