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aklaustaleteller · 5 months

Text

Some Invisible String

Ever since the news of Klaus' death reached her, Y/n's heart remained shattered as she happily accepted the sole purpose of her immortal life to be mourning her love. But then a looming shadow out of the Mystic Grill catches her attention and to whom is it that some invisible string had tied to her for centuries?

Warnings - a lot of grief in the beginning but it ends happily I swear! Word Count - 1.9k

And part two to 'Should've known' is here!! I don't know how the hell did I manage to involve the song Invisible String into this, but it's turned out to be quite cute in my opinion, so I hope you like it as well <3

Y/n lived on to live a life as merely a withered shell of who she used to be. That new vampire girl who had found solace in Klaus’s human arms and in art, the one who had just begun falling back in love with life was long gone, stripped off of Y/n as if she’d been skinned alive.

Doing anything sent a heartstopping wave of hurt rippling through her flesh and bones. When she breathed it felt like air burned her lungs and tried to strangle her heart, leaving her mouth as she'd wake up gasping for it to return back inside and finish the job.

Tears pricked her eyes each night, her sniffles blocking out the air making her throat feel like it was being ripped out, her lungs and heart as if they were collapsing. That’d be, until she’d finally fall into that peaceful slumber in which she’d always return to lay in Klaus’ arms after being torutured by the grief that consumed her wholly.

So wholly that her sole purpose for the immortal life ahead of her felt like it was to mourn and grieve her love. Something that she’d been willing to do just to preserve her love for him, for always and forever.

But living in a world that took birth, grew old and then died, Y/n could go anywhere she wanted, anywhere but home to Klaus. She was left with no other option than to just flee before she could even mistakenly call a place her home.

It had been three hundred years. Three hundred years of restless nights, lifeless days and a heartless blood thirst that had her leaving a trail of blood behind on her move. So many years spent hiding her face beneath cloak-hoods, running into other supernatural creatures who were immediately frightened by her post in the vampire chart, and running away from the stupidly careless killers who couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that were she to die, every single vampire would end up dead too.

It was rare for her to lose her patience, but it happened nonetheless – on the nights that she wanted to be wanted, to be loved and to be held so desperately that she couldn’t bear sight of a beating heart that was caged in the warmth of another’s safe hands.

No matter where she went, she couldn’t forget about him. It had taken her a while to realise that she didn’t want to forget him, but in the meantime that she hadn’t, she had turned away from everything else that she loved. From art, to history. Everything.

She avoided all of her dark red dresses as they reminded her of him never once failing to tell her how much he loved the colour on her, so much so that he’d bring that colour to her face while he’d slowly slip the dress off of her. So gentle was his heart that he even loved the crimson red that would slip out of the corners of her mouth when she’d feed, either off of him or anyone else – the way he’d wipe it off for her, and kiss her on the very same lips made her heart race to the point that she felt like she might just die from his touch.

On letting another hand graze her frame, she couldn’t help but stop it before things could escalate because her heart couldn’t let her mind to just let go for a little. Looks of disappointment and calls of slurs would be thrown at her by betrayed men, smirks or sympathetic looks passed to her by women who were witnesses to the assault.

Despite the cunning shards of her broken heart cutting her on the insides, she woke up every day and went outside to explore, just so that she could tell Klaus about it on starry nights, which were getting rarer and rarer in some places, Y/n had realised.

Just like every other morning since the past fifty or so years, she woke up and got decent before leaving her house. This day, she was walking the streets of Mystic falls, a small town that might’ve been attracting a little too much trouble than it can handle. And it was always the teenage girl with two vampires brooding over her who seemed to be the main magnetic pull, taking everyone who loved her with her into the dark pit that she’d dug herself.

Strolling inside the Mystic Grill, Y/n looked around and her eyes quickly met with the raven-haired man’s, who waved at her like he was a Villain going around toying with people like his puppets. It made her chuckle but despite that, she walked over to him and sat on one of the bar stools beside him.

“One Old fashioned please,” she told the bartender before turning to face him with a smile on her face. “So Damon, got another deal to make this morning?” She teased him, smirking once he was rolling his eyes.

“You know me so well,” with a sarcastic smile, Damon downed the rest of his drink. “And yes, I have got one,” he admitted, still.

Since she’d set foot in this town, the whiny group that consisted of him and his friends had been breathing down her neck, trying to strike a deal with her left right and centre as if she was going to say yes just out of pure annoyance.

And they should’ve caught by now, the fact that she wasn’t one to lose patience over such lousy things but she didn’t mind the constant bother, it kept her busy and a little entertainer, dare she say.

She would even sit with them in their boarding house and point out the unimaginably huge plot holes in their plans that led Damon to slam her into a wall with his hand around her neck. “You make one for her if you’re so clever, then,” he’d snarl and before he could let her go, she’d have smashed his face right into the wall she’d been pinned to.

“How stupid do you have to be to make such mistakes is beyond me,” she’d sighed. “One of these days you’re going to get your heart bloody ripped out,” she almost advised him, narrowing her eyes when he rolled his, holding his head in pain.

But still, because she’d crashed into people who were somewhat similar to her and didn’t need to hide from, she found herself wanting to stay a little longer, maybe she was finally going to let it rest and begin picking up the pieces of her broken heart. She doubted she was ever going to be able to put it back together, but at least she would have them picked up.

“What is it?” She asked Damon, knowing that even he knew that it’d be rejected the moment he’d spill it.

“We are going to kill Katherin…” Damon trailed off, not even meeting her eyes because despite the fact that he’d convinced everyone back at the house, he knew that this was nothing but a dire call for a mess out of stupidity.

They sat in there for a while, Y/n pointing out mistakes and Damon glaring at her before fixing the hole and moving on. The time had quickly escaped them and as their conversation neared an end, a strong force of gravity began pulling her heart down into her stomach, knowing that the restless night was finally creeping up on her, all over again.

She hugged him quite awkwardly because of Damon’s disdain regarding touch, and walked behind him as they exited the place. The sun had begun setting, causing the anxiousness inside Y/n to begin eating away at her for the night. “I hope I won’t have to see you tomorrow, you exhaust my brain,” Y/n mumbled, fishing out her car keys.

“Oh c’mon, you know my stupidity will kill me,” he repeated her words, making her roll her eyes with a grin forming on her face. Biding their goodbyes, Damon crossed the road to walk home while Y/n went to her right, towards her car.

And it was then when she noticed a dark figure looming in the shadows, making her clutch her keys tighter. God, she truly wasn’t in the mood to kill today.

“And you are?” She asked, still at the very distance that she’d stalled at, her vamp-instincts buzzing underneath her skin, preparing her to defend herself from a possible attack and to kill the darer.

The man walked out of the shadows then, the streetlight shining down on him. He slowly raised his gaze but when it landed on her face, all arrogance and smugness dropped down from his face as he felt his breathing come to an abrupt stop.

Y/n knew she most likely had the same expression on her face as the man standing in front of her, and she began taking hindering and wobbly steps towards him. “Is that you, Nik?” She breathed, her whisper loud enough to be caught by his mystical hearing.

When he didn’t move an inch, her hand frantically moved to place itself on his neck. “Niklaus?” She called louder this time, bringing him out of his trance as a sudden rush of air hit his lungs.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his hand coming to hold hers and in whoosh they had their arms wrapped so tightly around each other that it was a surprise not a bone had cracked. Klaus’ body immediately came to rest as it remembered this feeling to be the very same as when Y/n used to hold him, back in the days.

Klaus was really here and she was in his arms, and he was holding onto her with just as much desperation as she was.

She brought herself away from his neck, tears leaking out of her eyes as she scanned his face. “How?” Her question came out in a breath that Klaus immediately sucked in, pressing his lips to hers.

Passion coursed through their bodies as Y/n’s body moulded itself around Klaus’ to grasp at every scrap of touch it could find. Her hands clutched the collars of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to herself while she pushed herself into him, her nose smushing against his cheek.

And Klaus’s shoulders were bunched up beside his neck as his hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still as his tongue clashed with hers, eager to claim back what's been his for a long time.

To catch their breaths, they broke the kiss but Klaus made sure he was still holding her and he looked into her eyes when she rested her forehead against his’.

“It was your blood,” Klaus smiled at her, watching something light up within her eyes on realisation.

“I’ve spent all these years looking for you,” he continued, pressing a quick kiss on her mouth. “It was as if there was some invisible string, tying me to you,” he looked at her so softly with tears reddening his eyes that Y/n couldn’t help but let slip a broken sob, her face wet with her own tears.

“Isn’t it so pretty to think?” She asked him, voice barely above a whisper as her mouth brushed against his when she spoke. “That a single thread of gold tied me to you?”

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bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months

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i love reading your fics, they always give me 🦋🦋🦋 i love them so much, so, i want to make a request a angst-comfort where zoro and reader are dating but they got into a fight (*cough* zoro got jealous and starts to question reader's loyalty *cough*) but it ends happily because I don't want cry. n e way, continue writing stories, you write them so well... 😚

im so glad you like my work!! and thankyouu so much for sending in the request, let's get to itt <3

moss and towel ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: in which, you and zoro have been dating for six months. but after one fight night and growing distances, he finds himself questioning everything you've built together.

warnings: (poor attempts at writing) angst, zoro acts like an idiot, profanities. yeah, that's about it.

the winds were cruel tonight and even crueler were you. atleast there was some comfort in the cold gusts, some reason in the way they played against the swordsman's skin and left behind selfish goosebumps. atleast, he could attempt to understand it with nami's weather charts or whatnot.

but you. how could he attempt to understand you?

his eyebrows bunched as he stared up, fixing his gaze against the twinkling points. groaning, he put his hand over his eyes. maybe in a way, sure, it was his fault. he was never good with words or those fancy poems or haikus. he was never the one to resort to affection. but how was he supposed to fix this?

the first mate of the ship rested a fraction of his bodyweight against the wooden railing of the crow's nest. the wind tousled his unkempt hair and running a hand through his moss-green locks, he vaguely tried to remember how long it had been since nami dragged him into the bathroom and gave him a haircut again.

probably too long. he concluded with a sigh as the soft tresses caressed the mid-point of the back of his neck.

he was supposed to meet his girlfriend here. that's what had been decided. just you, him and the infinitely infinite night sky. the swordsman had even decided to talk about his feelings 'neath the dark abyss of the sky (even if he hated the mere idea of that).

but it had been 30 minutes and there were no signs of you anywhere.

life had been hectic for the both of you lately, whether it was because of the constant run-ins with the marines, zoro having to accompany luffy to side-quests or some other shit the sea sprouted every once in a while. either ways, it meant that you and him saw less and less of each-other as each day passed him by.

resigning himself to a tired sigh, zoro decided to climb downwards. you were not gonna come, that much was sure.

as his heavy feet planted against the wooden floor, he took a second to collect his thoughts. he started walking the stairs to go under the deck, to the common space where most of the crew lounged at the end of the day. descending, he thought of all possible explainations. maybe you had been caught by someone else and forced to listen to one of their anecdotes, maybe nami had asked you to help with the log pose calculations of the last island, or maybe chopper wanted you to help him grind some fresh medicine.

maybe-

he stepped inside the common place with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart and immediately saw you. you, ever so beautiful with you soft smiles and your lame jokes. you with your flowing hair and unruly habits. you, that was currently laughing along to something that shit-cook was talking about.

he must have caught your gaze cause you immediately looked away from sanji and to your boyfriend, giving him a soft smile. but he left the room without returning that gesture and you found yourself on your feet, walking after him and confused.

you trailed after him, calling his name out sweetly till you reached his room and he shut the door before you could get in.

"hey!" you laughed playfully, twisting the handle with ease and stepping inside. you closed the door behind you and tucked your arms around your chest, sporting a lively pout.

but he seemed to have to reaction to your antics, instead, deciding to carefully lay his three swords on the bed behind him as if he was courting the swords and not you.

"what's up with you?" you raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the way the man sat at the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff. when he said nothing, you pressed again, this time a bit more direct, "why are you grumbling now?"

he's been like this for the past few days and now that he refused to elaborate, you found your patience slipping off of you like a thin overcoat, leaving you behind in your ugly, impatient skin.

today had been hard, like any other day. and for some reason or the other, instead of inviting you into his arms, this man had swore to make your life even more difficult.

"zorooo," groaning, you asked again, "can you stop being so dramatic?"

his head snapped up, eyes finding yours with wicked ease. his jaw was clenched tight, face red as if he was burning up, "i am being dramatic? me?"

"yeah? you're being so fucking weird." you sighed, "why?"

"i dunno, go ask that fucking cook maybe?" he grumbled.

if the exasperation on your face wasn't obvious until now, after that comment, it was surely on full display.

"what?" you hissed, "what is up with you and all these weird accusations?"

"as i said, i dunno. ask that fuckin' waiter instead, why don't you? i'm sure he'd have some answers lined up."

"why are you dragging sanji into this?"

"why are you defending him?" he stood up, his face mirroring your exasperation tenfold. he crossed his arms similarly to yours and the muscles shifted impatiently under his shirt.

you threw you hands upwards, "im not defending him! i am aski—"

"—yes you are defending him, don't even."

you were tired.

god knew you every inch of your muscles were alight with exhaustion, your head was pounding and if he wanted to fight you, you wouldn't even have it in you to fight back. these past few days had been enough on their own. so, you sighed, taking on a resigned tone, "i am so tired, zoro. can't we do it another day?"

"yeah, right." he grumbled again, his eyebrows bunching together in a characteristic manner, "everything needs to be pushed back with you, right?"

"what is that supposed to mean?" you were sure smoke was rising from the top of your head and your pupils were comically blown out, "i was tired and wanted to take some time off, so, i had sat down. and sanji found me to make some ideal chit-chat. god forbid i be tired for once-"

"i was waiting at the crow's nest for the past 30 minutes, where were you?"

"huh—" fuck. your eyes widened as the terrible realization set in. almost on instinct, your fingers reached out to touch him so as to makeup for the terrible deed you had committed. but your boyfriend pulled himself back, dodging your careful grasp before rasping out, "don't."

"zoro, i'm sorry! really, i genuinely cannot believe i forgot—"

"so, you forgot me over that fucking cook?"

"no!" you repeated, slower, "no, of course not. i was just tired and—"

"—and you decided to go off with him instead?" he scoffed, "i thought we were dating and yet, i think we've barely had any time to just spend together. every time it's someone or the other you have to rely on, not me."

"zoro..." you started carefully but he cut off you off, "don't zoro me. it's either nami or sanji or luffy or someone or the other. i wouldn't be surprised if you're fucking blondie behind my back too."

you stared at him, shocked. the wretched feeling gnawed at your insides till you looked at him in pure, utter disgust. the corners of your eyes burned up and you spat out, "don't fucking talk to me."

and you left the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

zoro stared at the place you were standing at and then slowly dragged his eyes at the door that you had slammed shut.

fuck.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪐⋆⭒˚｡⋆

well into the night, when he finally had swallowed his pride and mentally beat himself enough, he walked out of his room.

his steps were slow, stride careful so to not panic the mostly sleeping crew. searching through the washroom and the kitchen, the supply closet and chopper's tiny, stashed-away office, he failed to find you. then, he stepped out onto the deck and in a clean sweep, found you at the port side. the wind blew ideally though your hair and you stood with your arms on the railing.

the swordsman silently walked up to you, choosing to stand beside you without saying much. and if he had hoped for you to start the conversation, he was in for a long, long night.

"hey" he finally started off.

"i think i told you to not talk to me."

your feet shifted and you balanced your bodyweight away from him and he pursed his lips. standing in silence, the sounds of waves crashing against the ship painted you both in a uncomfortable hues.

he tried again, "i- i am sorry, really."

"don't care, didn't ask."

roronoa zoro bit the inside of his cheek, savoring the taste of foul rejection in his mouth over and over. but he had never been the one to go out without a fight. hell, he was the king of hell.

"but i am sorry." he repeated and his calloused fingers inched closer to yours, a poor attempt to ghost his skimming touches over your hand. but you were quicker and you pulled your hands back to yourself and wrapped them around yourself.

he slowly withdrew his hand and his head hung low, "how long are you gonna be mad at me?"

"i don't know? probably till i want to."

"babe—"

"—don't babe me."

"i am sorry—"

"—to fuCKING HELL WITH YOUR SORRY!" your cool demeanor washed off and you bore daggers into his paper-like skin as you stared him down. your breath was laboured and you were sure your yells must have woken someone, if not the entire crew.

he stayed silent, ready to face the consequences of his actions. and although venom was a resident on your tongue, looking at his guilt-struck face, you were reduced to nothing but a dumbfounded, little girl.

whatever you had planned, whatever you had thought you'd call him, whatever accusations you had thrown you'd throw at him dissolved at the tip of your tongue. and instead, an ugly feeling stirred under your skin. the feeling sunk heavy in your chest and your stomach and your head and heart and every other crevice of you. bile crawled up your scratchy throat and the same waterworks made home on your lash line.

when you spoke, you were sure your voice sounded more like a desperate plea than a demand for apology.

"why? why did you say that? that was low."

he looked down at his feet, his fingers twiddling against the sword hilt of his wado ichimonji in an attempt to self-soothe, "i know it was wrong. i was just so angry."

"and that makes it okay for you to question my loyalty?" you sniffed, feeling the watery weight cascade down your cheeks.

"no!" he looked up, alarmed, "no! ofcourse it doesn't. i never was— i was just—" he paused, wincing, "—i was jealous of him."

"sanji?!"

he continued, agonized, "yes, the damn cook. and everyone else, i guess. you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

"zoro, why didn't you just say it out loud to me?" you whispered softly. inching closer to him, you rested your palm against his warm cheek. his growing stubble lightly tickled your skin. you hummed softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, pressing an easy kiss to your fingers. "because i- i just couldn't bring myself to. i'm sorry, i should have talked to you rather than being a prick, really."

"i am sorry too. i know we haven't spent any time for the past two weeks or so. i was so busy within myself that i didn't reach out to you." your fingers played gently against the scars on his face from years of training, "these past few days have been hard—"

"—they've been hell."

you laughed despite yourself, "yeah, i guess they've been hell."

his eyes swayed against yours in a guilt-ridden dance, "forgive me?"

you paused a beat, "do you trust me?"

his answer came more easily than breathing did, "more than i trust myself."

you hummed, "sure?"

and he just nodded. as moments passed you both by, he finally quipped up, "so, am i forgiven?"

"well..." you pondered for a second, "technically, i did fuck up too. so, yeah, you're forgiven." you glared at him, "just never say that kinda shit again."

he smiled and when he spoke, he offered a kind explaination, "i didn't actually mean you were fucking the cook. i just- just kinda said it."

"eh," you waved off his comment, "i don't wanna fuck blondes, anyways. to be honest, not really my type."

"huh?!" his eyes widened in play-pretend, "so his hair colour is holding you back?"

"i mean i'm more into idiots who grow slowly on me. like moss does on a wet towel."

roronoa zoro— bounty hunter, pirate, first mate to a terrifying crew, kind of hell, demon, whatever— looked appalled. "are you comparing me to moss?"

"i am comparing how you grew on me to the lowest form of moss that even grows on the stupidest surfaces."

"don't call yourself stupid, now."

you huffed and turned around, walking towards the stairways that led to the rooms, "i am gonna stop talking to you again!"

he laughed, taking in easy strides to walk after you, "just kidding. i promise. your moss, ever and forever more."

he met your pace, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you gave him a wayward grin, "good."

he gave you one right back, "great."

"i'm tired."

"me too."

as you both disappeared back into your room, hand in hand, you made a comment about how much his hair grew and he responded with "like moss grows on a wet towel?". next morning you found yourself waking up to the swordsman's heavy snores and heavier body against you.

stupid moss-head.

a/n: i think i like how this turned out lol. hope it's okay @rkiveinmarvel and as always, thank you to anyone else who reads this <3

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff #zoro fanfic #zoro imagine

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linos-luna · 7 months

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Hiii

Could you write a one shot about johnny x yn, he is the tutor of yn, they have going on a lot of sexual tension the last sessions, and johnny was just craving oral sex…so he says “if you do this correctly i’ll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?” She says yes…you decide which one happens first. If you could add a lot of praise from johnny to yn would be awesome.

Thanks

Hope u have time

This was fun. Sorry it took forever. Im still recovering from my injuries 😅

But I’m back now!

——————————————————————

Lessons ❣️

Johnny x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral (both receiving), SMUT, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

—————————————————— 💚

There was always tension. He’s tutoring you in statistics but how could you concentrate when he was just so… hot. Likewise, Johnny also found himself very attracted to you. He couldn’t help toying with you. Little touches and sly comments during every lesson to drive you nuts. Although you act like it doesn’t bother you, it very much does.

Today was different. Something about your cute skirt and innocent confused expression when not fully understanding a concept. It drove him nuts. He wants you.

Johnny wants relief. He wants you to suck him off while he fucks your throat. He wants to feel you gag around his cock as he pulls on your hair. He wants to cum on your face watch your filthy expressions. He wants to see your eyes crossed and cock drunk. It was getting him hard just thinking about it. Surely, you wouldn’t mind.

“Johnny… Johnny!” You called out, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh! Sorry!” He chuckled.

“I finished.” You said with a smile as he stood behind you.

“Yeah? Do you think that you understand now…? Normal distribution charts can be difficult.”

“Maybe…” I said, blushing as he was very close to your neck. “Y-you’ll have to check.”

“Maybe?” He teased while rubbing your sides. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“W-well…” you felt yourself getting heated, just his light touch was getting you worked up. Was this on purpose? You weren’t sure and it was making your head spin.

“Well what?” Johnny asked while slowly running his one hand up your skirt. “Not paying attention…?”

“I-I… I pay attention…” I replied with a a deep breath, feeling the pads of his fingers touching your clothed cunt. You closed your eyes and let out some breathy moans.

“I don’t know about that, babygirl…” he smirked, moving his hand from your waist to your neck. “Looks like you’re thinking about something else…” he chuckled while holding your chin before sliding his fingers in your underwear.

You moaned at the feeling as he felt around your folds then rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“I think that your mind is somewhere else, huh?”

You whimpered at the feeling, finding it difficult to not throw your head back in pleasure. You bucked your hips to feel more friction.

“Do you like that baby?” He teased, whispering in your ear. “You want more right?”

“Mmhm-…” you managed to get out.

“Yes? More?”

“Yes Johnny…” you moaned.

“Just love being touched…” he teased. “Are you really that dirty? I thought you were innocent.”

“I-I-….” It was hard to get any words out. “J-Johnny—…. Please…”

“My sweet girl… let me check that paper for you first.” He smirked, knowing it was driving you nuts. “I’ll have to make some corrections… unless they’re all right?”

“Y-yes Johnny…”

The man smirk as he snaked his free hand from your waist to your breast, disregarding the bra that was in the way.

“How about I make you a deal?” He said while pinching your sensitive nipple. “I’m willing to help you out, babygirl…”

You only nodded, trying to focus on his words.

“I’ll check your work…” he started. "if you do this correctly i'll go down on you, but if you are wrong, you suck me, deal?"

“A-ah! Johnny!” You moaned out loud suddenly, feeling him pinch at your sensitive cunt.

“Got it?”

“Mmm… okay…” you replied in a shaky voice as he looked over your work.

While he checked your work, Johnny kept his hand in your panties, only rubbing your clit slightly as he used his other hand to trace down the paper. You whimpered, lightly bucking your hips against his fingers.

“Well darn…” he said in a teasing voice. “You got it wrong… your margin of error is off…”

“O-oh.”

“You know what that means, hm?” He said with a sly laugh.

“Y-yes, Johnny…” you nodded while getting to your knees. Johnny was surprised you were actually going to do it and quickly pulled down his pants and boxers.

You looked up at him with a giggle, slowly stroking him while staring him straight in the eyes.

“T-Teasing me?” Her groaned while looking back, finding you incredibly cute and innocent.

You smiled and started sucking on the tip, looking up at him with innocent eyes. You would suck the tip and pull back, watching as your spit connected to it.

“F-fuck…” he groaned while holding onto your hair.

You continued to rub his cock with your hands as you started taking more in your mouth. He was big and it was impossible to get him fully in without gagging. You kept going, bobbing your head while moaning, making the man lose his mind.

Drool ran down your chin as he bucked his hips before his grip on your hair tightened.

Johnny couldn’t handle your slow teasing and started thrusting his hips more, holding onto you as he fucked your throat. He threw his head back and let out some breathy moans.

His needy moans only turned you on more and you felt how soaked your underwear really was.

“Open.” He said sternly as you opened your mouth. “I wanna see it…”

You smirked and laid his hard cock on your tongue that stuck out of your mouth. You continue to rub it against your tongue until he released, his white substance dripping from your mouth to your chin, looking absolutely filthy.

“God…” he panted while pulling you up by the hair. “I haven’t even checked the other problem yet… don’t tease me, girl…”

After pulling you up, he pulled his boxers up and went back to checking your work as if nothing happened.

Johnny looked through the last problem, smirking when finished. “Well it seems that you got this one right, babygirl.”

“O-oh…. U-um…” you stuttered as he grabbed your waist, lifting you onto the desk.

“My good girl deserves her reward now, hm?”

You only blushed, feeling even hotter as he slowly lowered your pant and underwear.

Johnny put your legs over his shoulders and licked a stride across your wet cunt with no warning. You moaned a bit loud and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth, making the man chuckle.

“Why are you covering up, baby?” He teased. “I wanna hear everything…” the man groaned against your cunt, practically making you twitch as you roll your eyes back. It was hard to control yourself.

Perhaps you were already hot and aroused from earlier, or you were just horny when seeing him in general.

“F-fuck—… j-Johnny…” your moans were shaky and light as he ate you out with no mercy. The pleasure started becoming too much as his tongue touched your sensitive bud.

You could barely keep your eyes open at the intense pleasure and you found yourself whining.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased while he added some more teasing licks.

“Mmm… J-Johnny….” You moaned as your legs shook a bit. “I-I-…”

“You’re what, baby?”

“I-I have… I have to… c-c-…” you couldn’t get the words out through your desperate pants, but Johnny knew what you were trying to say. He smirked and pulled away, making you whine.

“Don’t cum yet, baby.” Johnny said while standing, now undoing his jeans. “I’ll give you something better…”

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hotdogdynamitezzz · 2 years

Text

~ Astro Observations ~

Saturn is known as the protector planet as it rules over barriers, restrictions, delays, limits & any protection that can be forced. Look at your chart to see where you will experience the most setbacks yet are protected. For instance, I've noticed someone with Saturn in the 6th house is very hard working and often puts in twice the work to get places, but they can experience setbacks with their colleagues nitpicking or criticizing them. But they are usually protected, their hard work pays off, or they always thrive. I see A LOT of famous people with Saturn in the 6th house.

Libra risings like people who are like themselves or else they completely avoid those who are obnoxious and aggressive as it appalls them. Yet, I commonly see them drawing in these individuals at the same time. Best rising for enemies to lovers as the main protagonist just doing their thing unbothered until an aries rising shows up lmao.

I notice the type of people we are attracted to reflect our 1st or 7th house in some way. For instance I have Venus in 1st and I always attract Aries rising & Mars in 1st house people. I noticed the same for someone who had Moon in their 1st house commonly attracting Capricorn risings or those with Saturn in their 1st house.

The sun sign is actually very important in your chart and isn't just some hocus pocus bogus crap found in magazine horoscopes. From my observations I've developed a theory that Mutable signs adapt using their sun signs qualities they usually start off HATING but find it necessary to utilize for their own personal power. Cardinal Signs seem to dislike their sun signs qualities and chase after everything using THE OPPOSITE qualities of their sign. It's when they use their sun signs qualities to their advantage they will find their initiations successful. While fixed signs struggle the most to master their own sun signs qualities as it sticks with them through and through, they relate the most to their sun sign as these qualities are something inate they use to identify themselves. However, they struggle to figure out how to use their qualities in a positive light as they can easily get stuck in a cycle.

Ex, a lot of Virgo euns hated cleaning or organizing themselves using lists as they were younger but later adapted because of the many health problems this sign usually experiences so found it necessary

Ex, Cancer suns tend to ignore their emotions and lash out at others being deemed insensitive so they focus on Detachment when really they should be utilizing their magnetism and intuition through human connection as they are the sign with the most power over others emotions.

Ex, Aquarius suns struggle with seeing the use of collaboration with others opinions and applying their innovative thoughts towards real life skills. They can get stuck in a constant pattern of not feeling accepted or heard. But mastering their creative thinking and differences to use positively will give them the most recognition.

Conclusion:

Mutable sun sign = Adapting to your Qualities

Cardinal sun sign = initiating your Qualities.

Fixed sun sign = Mastering your Qualities.

This is also why imo it's the hardest to spot a mutable sun sign as they're usually farther away from Adapting to their sun signs qualities until they've gotten more experience in life. Usually looking at the general themes in their life can help you identify them the easier.

Ex, Gemini suns are focused on developing communication skills and confidence in their socializing capabilities.

Ex, Pisces suns usually deals with people taking their dreams for granted and is most likely influenced by a harsh or strict environment.

In Solar Return Charts the most common house placements tend to be the 1st House, 6th House, 7th House and 10th House. ESPECIALLY 1ST & 6TH HOUSE! This is because most of our years are focused on the tangible and everyday aspects of our lives which is ruled by the 6th house, our public person and career is the 10th House, and focusing on ourselves is our 1st House.

If you're a student I frequently see 3rd, 5th, 6th, 8th & 9th Houses filled in solar return charts. The 3rd/5th/9th Houses are all about acquiring skills, learning from what's in front of you, hobbies and pleasure, and higher knowledge or lessons to be taught that bring about movement in your life. I also included 6th house because that's our daily life + physical health while the 8th house is about our mental health so it makes sense why students often have that house filled...

Wanna find out how to turn your creative thinking into a weapon and utilize it for success? Pallas (2) can show what you're naturally gifted at intellectually.

Pallas is the asteroid representing Athena goddess of war, strategy, knowledge & creative thinking. I've seen this asteroid work wonders tbh. My friend has it in Libra 12th House and she's a visual artist mastermind. She can piece any aesthetic or visual together like a puzzle.

If you want to manifest any desires, look at your 11th house! This house rules our wishes and what is rewarded after we've put hard work into it. Finding direction will be much easier to achieve if you look at your 11th house and what it's telling you to work for. Basically I've seen Pluto in 11th = earning power over people, Saturn in 11th = earning respect and titles, Venus in 11th = earning love or money (wealth indicator), Neptune in 11th = earning a prophecy, deep undivided loyalty & glamour, Mercury in 11th = earning your name to be widespread, knowledge & fast results.

I'd say Mercury in the 11th is a big "viral celebrity" placement as they can easily do something and everyone knows their name overnight. Also good for scholars!

The 12th house is also known as the house of Loss. Your planets, sign & rulership could determine what you end up sacrificing or leaving behind. For example, Cancer in 12th could often leave their homes or roots, they usually experience family loss early too. Scorpio in 12th house loses their fear, finances & secrets easily (beware of who you let talk to you). And Sagittarius in 12th house can lose their freedom, knowledge acquired, and faith in others.

The most copied people tend to be Scorpio risings, Pisces risings, Pluto in 1st house, Neptune in 1st house and 12th House placements. That's because with Scorpio energy in the 1st house their identity is literally exploited and used for power dynamics (legit had my friend catfished a bit ago and she has an 8° sag rising with Pluto in 1st conjunct her ascendant). And Pisces energy around the 1st House because people have no barriers with you and feel entitled to take your identity. It can almost feel like a sacrifice of themselves for Pisces rising or those with Neptune in 1st house (ex, Marilyn Monroe & Kim Kardashian, it's not a mistake they both have Neptune in 1st house).

Differences between the angular houses cuz I know we get these mixed up easily:

Your 1st house = How you identify yourself in the world.

Your 4th House = Your roots and how you grow into the world.

Your 7th House = How others identity you, your close connections.

Your 10th House = What you're known for, your reputation.

The houses of legacys are 4th, 8th & 10th. This is your history and how you make your mark on the world, how you will be remembered, and your title in the word.

8th house placements is what we knowingly gatekeep from the world, and the house rulership tells just as much if it's empty. Rich people usually have Jupiter in the 8th house because they are quite literally gatekeeping their wisdom, knowledge, gifts & MASS amounts of power. They also receive money randomly sometimes and have fabulous luck with stocks or investments.

Usually people with Moon in the 8th House tend to be reserved with their deepest emotions and family life. They can often take the longest to open up or trust others as they're used to being blackmailed or having their emotional security taken away from them.

Countries' rising signs MAKES A LOT OF SENSE. Russia has a Scorpio rising (known for intelligence agencies, spies, and cold environment...also destruction of the USSR), the USA has a Sagittarius rising (known for freedom, boldness & diversity...also aggression lol) & Britain is a Libra rising (country known for its fashion, etiquette and tea, its so libra LMAO)

Sun sextile Mars is the best aspect for a natural leader. You know how to utilize your individuality to stand out during competition and you also naturally bring out shining qualities in the people you lead. You take challenges to your ego with ease and although passionate you still remain assured and unbothered by threats. Also high sex drive is present here

A lot of psychics have Moon sextile Neptune because they access otherworldly feelings subconsciously without blockages. And are both Water and Fire dominant. Water rules unconscious and flowing emotions, while Fire represents intuition and gut feelings hence "follow your heart" being their motto.

In general looking at your Moon placement is THE MOST important when figuring out your intuitive abilities as the Moon is the unconscious mind & your personal feelings and behavior. You could determine what suits you best with this!

Ex, Mercury aspecting Moon does well with Tarot & Oracle or any divination that requires pattern connections and using your hands

Ex, Pluto aspecting Moon might be able to talk to ancestors, spirits, and gain information about dangerous events

Ex, Venus aspecting Moon would be great for Glamour magic, Love spells, WEALTH MANIFESTATIONS, and herbalism!! TEA READINGS LOL

I need to stop with Libra & Tea �� istg Tea is ruled by Libra & Neptune BUT THATS JUST MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS COMING THRU.

I don't necessarily believe in everything I listed or think it's all good practices like Love magic but I wanted to help you develop an idea of how each planet can be connected for practical use.

I feel like Uranus is actually a hard planet to understand and sometimes value in everyday life because it's just so...out there LOL. Like it's described as sudden surprises, rebellion, electricity, revolution & eccentricity. It's just a hard planet to relate to in general because it's the opposite of conformity so applying it in your life is umm confusing to say the least lol.

Basically I look at Uranus as sudden ups & downs, where we grow FAST but where we get knocked down BAD too. I literally think cancel culture would be ruled by Uranus ngl LOL. It's unpredictable and awakens or shakes up whatever it aspects.

So Uranus aspecting Venus would cause a turbulent love life, a somewhat Detached or Hypersexual character, Very wealthy and a visionary in fashion or with money. But alsoooo struggles to maintain relationships or struggles A LOT with self love.

TW but I've often seen those with Uranus in 2nd & 6th House struggle the most with body dysmorphia and weight fluctuation. Your health can always spike up and down too. It's because these houses rule over our self-worth, body and physical health. Therefore, sometimes it can really shake your eating habits up which would obviously cause a struggle in your mental health.

However I've also seen some of the MOST inflated egos come from people with Uranus in 2nd House. Again the unpredictability and sudden Shockwave to your confidence with Uranus can literally make you feel like God or sunken. It's VERY drastic.

Oppositions to the Ascendant, also known as Conjunctions to the Descendant are qualities we possess that others DON'T accept us for and often make us feel insecure. Lilith Opposite Ascendant would probably be heavily shamed for their promiscuity and manipulative behavior. While Uranus opposite ascendant would be ridiculed for their Weirdness or Intelligence. People would label them as crazy lol�� (totally not me).

Also if you have Uranus aspecting the Ascendant or Mars you are VERY clumsy and accident prone LMAO�� your movements literally come off as a shockwave to others and everything around you. It's just one step and all of a sudden a whole clothing rack comes falling down. Uranus does rule Natural Disasters so...are we even surprised?

When looking at your Solar Return Chart it's not just Pluto to be concerned about BUT CHIRON. This asteroid is the wounded healer meaning it will detail the wounds you have to recover from and face that year. Chiron also highlights where we feel or are literally rejected so...check that fr.

The saddest Chiron placement imo is in the 1st & 4th House. Because your identity and self expression is rejected with the 1st house, while in the 4th house you could be outcasted by your own family and feel blocked put from any form of emotional security.

An example of what I think is a good example of significant Chiron energy would be Selena Gomez and her Venus conjunct Chiron at a 1° orb in Leo 1st house. Basically it shows up as her body being rejected, women rejecting her, and her own creative projects or indivuality feeling rejected. She probably is very self-deprecative because of this as she never feels her appearance or identity is good enough.

Chiron in 1st House people also get copied lots...just sayin

Women tend to be VERY jealous of those with Venus or Moon aspecting Chiron because they view that individual as wounding their views of femininity and project their insecurities onto them. The women with Venus/Moon aspecting Chiron placements are seen in general as being too vulnerable or soft which are stereotypical feminine qualities a lot of women can feel resentment towards brought on by the ✨️Patriarchy✨️

Marilyn Monroe also has Venus conjunct Chiron...��

So does Jessica Alba, Olivia Rodrigo and Kurt Cobain.

Their lovesick songs PLZ what's more Venus conjunct Chiron than that�� excluding miss Alba lol.

The same goes for women with Sun & Mars aspecting Chiron. Men are usually jealous of their success and degrade them because they see them as a threat to their masculinity.

Fun fact: The 4th House rules over the Father while the 10th house rules over the Mother in family astrology. Although I generally always saw the Moon sign as the most accurate representation of the maternal figure in your life but I found the above on astrology websites.

I also found some sources saying the 10th house actually rules your dominant parent? It's a whole debate on Google but it did say the 10th house rules the Mother in my astrology books so...idk I see it. Let me know in the comments your thoughts!

And to end this off, let me know your rising sign degree and I will try to guess your favorite colour to wear lol

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selineram3421 · 1 year

Text

*lies awake at night and has an idea*

[Its 4 a.m. by the way.]

Other Worldly

Prologue

Alastor X Shy Reader

(Oneshot turned short story)

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ selectively mute reader, mentions of death-drowning, shaking head = no, signing-ASL ⚠

They were an oddity.

How could such a meek and bashful thing like them end up in this fiery inferno.

Alastor watched from the bar as they bumped into the check-in counter and squeaked before getting off balance and falling.

Clumsy, jumpy, barely making a sound other than some odd squeaks.

Yes, they were quite the wonder.

An entertaining one.

❇

You were somewhat new to Hell. At least two weeks in.

There was an accident where you worked in the aquarium and well..you kinda caused a mass drowning? It sounds impossible but it happened.

It was very challenging to get up after your fall, but you managed and wound up at the hotel.

With the help of the Princess, you were able to figure out what kind of demon you are. It came with pros but it also came with cons. One con being that you couldn't speak unless you wanted to hypnotize someone.

It made you a little sad, but also relieved. You didn't do well around others, too shy to speak up or get involved with anything that put you in the spotlight.

Maybe it was for the best.

There would be one thing you wouldn't give up though.

❇

Alastor was in the hotel's library.

There wasn't a whole lot of demons coming into this room, especially after some guests saw him walk in here a few times.

It didn't matter. At least there were multiple things that could entertain him. A small music room with instruments, projectors in another with film reels and other types of tapes, and the most dazzling room of all was the astronomy room.

The Princess made sure to have this room's dome ceiling painted with an accurate mural of the Earth's night sky.

Deciding to mess with the trinkets on the shelves, the demon in red walked towards the back of the room and glanced at the star charts. Tapping at some of the books and measuring tools on the desk nearby before sitting down on a chair.

No one ventured this far into the library. He was probably the only demon who knew of this room's existence.

And then he heard something.

Someone had entered the room.

Turning around and looking between the shelves, Alastor spots the timid demon that he enjoys flustering so much near the armillary sphere in the middle.

A little spook wouldn't be too bad.

He thought with a small grin, starting to summon up a shadow creature. However both dissipated when there was a note sung into the air.

"Let's go in the garden

You'll find something waiting

Right there where you left it lying upside down

When you finally find it, you'll see how its faded

The underside is lighter when you turn it around "

The Radio Demon sat there, mouth agape as they sang.

"Everything stays right where you left it

Everything stays

But it still changes

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways, when everything stays "

Like a siren- a water sprite? A nymph? It was hard to pinpoint what he could compare their voice to.

It was other worldly.

Their voice echoed due to the room's acoustics.

He didn't notice that he had gotten out of the chair, didn't notice he was making his way towards them, didn't notice when they stopped singing until they gasped.

Blinking out of his trance, he found them facing him and covering their mouth with their hands. A panicked look in their eyes.

"You stopped.", Alastor spoke up. "Why not finish?"

They shook their head quickly and backed away.

Before he could say something else, they moved their arms down, one made into a fist on their chest and moving in a circle clockwise. Then they ran out. (Sorry)

He stood there for a while, his smile widening. Maybe there was more to them than he thought.

How interesting~

I'm still on break but I couldn't help myself with this one. 🐚 (Old note)

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Alastor ML I🎙 | ChL OW🦀

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marlynnofmany · 2 months

Text

Early Efforts

I was keeping Wio company in the cockpit, because piloting can be boring in empty space, when an alert dinged. Wio paused her story about an underwater race she’d won on her home planet. I held my questions while she tapped the controls, tentacles dancing across the console. Finally she sat back and relaxed.

“Nothing big,” she told me. “Just a bit of metal junk among the rock.” One of the smaller screens zoomed in on a patch of space that turned out to hold a tumbling asteroid. “It doesn’t register as any known weapon, so it’s probably not a lost mine or what-have-you.”

Surprised, I looked around the cockpit as if it would give me a view through the walls. “Is this area known for those?”

“Nope,” said Wio. “But space is big and time is long. It wouldn’t be the first time idiots fighting each other didn’t give a flip about the rest of the universe.”

“Yeah, or the last,” I agreed. “So what is it, if it’s not dangerous? Can we tell?”

Wio turned a few knobs and flicked a switch. “Not from this distance. The readings I’m getting are of common ship-building materials.”

“So it’s from a crash? Do you think it was that crash?” I pointed over my shoulder, again as if we could simply look back to see the wreck I meant. I probably wasn’t even pointing in the right direction. We hadn’t seen the joyriding accident in person, just heard about it when we picked up our latest cargo.

“Ehh,” Wio said, studying a complicated set of imagery. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure the angle’s wrong. Possible, but unlikely.”

“If it is, do you think they’ll want their part back?”

“Depends on what shape it’s in,” Wio said with a wrinkle of her octopuslike forehead. “We’d have better odds selling it for scrap at the next station with a good mechanic’s sector.”

I scanned the many screens and readouts, trying to get a feel for how much of a detour it was. “Do you think that’s worth checking?”

“Sure do,” Wio said cheerily, tapping buttons and touchscreens, adjusting dials and fiddling with a couple odd bits on the console that I’m pretty sure were there just for fidgeting purposes. Wio was rarely still.

“Should we — oh, you already pinged her.” I spotted the little red light that said the captain had been called. I expected a comm call as soon as Captain Sunlight got a spare moment, but she must have been nearby, because she just showed up at the door.

“Yes?” asked Captain Sunlight, posture as regal as ever and scales a slightly brighter yellow than usual. I still hadn’t found a polite way to ask if the Heatseekers on the ship polished their scales or shed them in privacy for that occasional fresh look. Now certainly wasn’t the time.

Wio spun in her chair. “Permission to make a minor detour for potential salvage?”

“Show me.” The captain walked over for a better look, about head height since I was sitting down. She peered at the various readings and gave permission.

And, since it really was a very minor detour, she just stood there and waited while we closed in on the lump of rock and metal. Soon enough we could see it on the main screen: turning end over end, traveling in roughly the same direction we were, just much slower.

“No radioactivity,” Wio reported. “No air pockets either, and the chance of germs is near-zero.”

“The components seem relatively straightforward for a bit of simple machinery,” said the captain, reading a chart that I’d thought listed something else.

While they went over the analysis, I reflected that I really should ask Wio to teach me the basics of the controls in here. Not enough to fly — I was fully aware of how much training went into that — but just enough so I didn’t feel like an idiot Earthling who’d never been to space before when more than one screen was active.

“Let’s use the grabber,” Captain Sunlight said. “I’ll prep the cargo bay.” She made several calls to different parts of the ship while Wio unfolded a portion of the controls that I hadn’t seen yet. It was labeled “Grabbing Arm.”

“Ooh, how’s that work?” I asked.

“It’s nice and intuitive for once,” Wio said as she ignored it for long enough to steer us right alongside the spinning lump. She locked the speed in (but didn’t make us spin to match it, thankfully. That would have been a bit much). Then she turned her attention back to the panel. It held several regular-sized buttons and one large black one — oh wait, that was a hole.

When Wio stuck her tentacle in to manipulate the grabbing arm, I quietly shook my head. Of course it’s that kind of arm, I thought as a mechanical tentacle uncurled into view outside. Why would I expect anything with fingers on a ship made by Strongarms?

Captain Sunlight finished talking to whoever was in the cargo bay, and gave Wio the go-ahead. I watched the main screen as the grabber lined up carefully with the spinning mass of rock and metal, then gave it a calculated whack. A piece broke off and it stopped spinning.

Wio peered at a readout. “Nonvaluable mineral,” she said. “I’ll just get the big part.”

“How big is it?” I asked belatedly, not sure of the grabber’s size for reference. One of the screens probably said.

“Small enough to fit!” Wio said. With a look of intense concentration (and several tentacles fidgeting behind her), she wrapped the metal grabbing arm around the asteroid and pulled it in.

“I’m off to the cargo bay,” announced Captain Sunlight. “Keep it nice and gentle.”

“Will do. No explosions of dirt on the floor if I can help it.”

Captain Sunlight nodded, even though Wio was watching the screen, and she left. I looked between the two.

“I’m going to see if I can help,” I said, getting up.

“Sure thing. I’ll watch from here.” Wio gestured with another tentacle at a small screen on the side that had a great view of the cargo bay. Several crewmembers were waiting by the airlock.

I hurried down the hall on my long human legs. I wanted to see what this thing was. Maybe it was important, or valuable, or both. Probably not, but who knew?

When I got there, the airlock was already closed again, and Eggskin was putting away their hand scanner. Blip and Blop each had a hand on the lumpy rock about the size of a two-person hoverbike. They seemed to be the designated “hold it in place” team, which they were good at, because of all the muscles. The goggles they wore and the pickaxes shoved in their waistbands said that might not be all they hoped to do.

Eggskin said, “No trace of anything biological,” and moved to stand beside the captain. The two Heatseekers were a healthy distance from the rock, clearly to give the Frillian twins plenty of pickaxing room. I thought I could see a bit of metal among the lumps, but it was hard to make out. The rock looked like several pieces had clumped together around it. I couldn’t say whether they were stuck with glue, welding, or just gravity and time. A smattering of gravel had already fallen to make the floor treacherous.

Blip and Blop seemed aware of that, since they moved their feet by sliding instead of stepping. At Eggskin’s declaration, the captain nodded a go-ahead, and the Frillians grabbed their pickaxes.

A voice from behind me complained, “I was going to watch…”

I turned to see Zhee retreating back into the hallway, all gaudy purple exoskeleton and disapproval.

He continued, “But I think I’ll wait out here.”

I asked, “Do you think the chips are going to—” then the first pickaxe hit with a thunderous clang, and I hustled out to join him. Captain Sunlight and Eggskin had also backed up further. I was pretty sure one or both of them were saying words of caution, but I couldn’t make it out for sure.

Zhee clicked his pincher arms and angled his antennae in disapproval. He probably had opinions about the best way to disassemble the chunk of rocks and nonsense. Zhee always had opinions.

A concerned voice from down the hall asked, “What’s happening?”

I called back, “Salvage.”

Paint trotted up, her expression worried and her mottled orange scales less shiny than the captain’s. I’d definitely have to ask about the polishing sometime. Maybe.

“What kind of salvage?” she asked.

I told her, “Rocks and metal.”

Zhee said, “Loud and messy.”

Before Paint could press for details, the axe noises were replaced by a minor avalanche of rocks etcetera collapsing onto the cargo bay floor. The silence afterward made me rub my ears.

Paint looked around the corner, then dart forward. Zhee and I followed.

The pickaxes were already set down in favor of hands for picking through the mess. Blip and Blop pulled out something long and angular, each grabbing a different end and having a split-second tug of war like two puppies with the same stick. Then they held it up for the captain together.

“Got it!”

“Look at this!”

We all looked. It was dented gray metal, long with a couple of joints, and with wires dangling out the bigger end. Straightened out, it would have been a little taller than the Frillians.

I asked the obvious question. “What is it? Broken antenna?”

Blip rotated it, peering at the wires, then the bent sections. “I don’t think so. These parts seem supposed to move.”

“Yeah, and this end’s serrated!” Blop said, pointing at the narrow end. “It’s almost like…” He grabbed the last two segments and wrenched them together. The metal screeched. The serrations fit together perfectly, in a startling imitation of Zhee’s pincher arms.

We all looked at him.

Zhee hissed quietly and angled his antenna into extreme displeasure. “Keep breaking,” he said.

“What? Why?” I asked.

Zhee pointed a pincher. “It is old enough to be ugly. An embarrassment to Mesmers everywhere.”

A few careful questions and one angry rant later, it became clear that this Mesmer at least was certain that every one of his species would be personally offended by the sight of this relic’s lack of vibrant colors and/or gemstone decorations.

No, it hadn’t lost its decorations; there were no sockets for gems. No, it hadn’t lost its paint; there were no traces, and paint was only for utter peasants who couldn’t anodize metal.

“Ask Trrili,” Zhee challenged. “She’s from a different moon entirely.”

Captain Sunlight quietly called Trrili to the cargo bay to give her opinion on something unspecified. Trrili arrived in a storm of shiny black and blood-red, taller than Zhee and curious why she’d been summoned. She caught sight of the relic.

“Throw that out the airlock immediately,” Trrili hissed.

Zhee said, “I suggested they break it.”

“That’s good too.”

I said, “I can’t believe no Mesmer ever would want to keep this for historical value, if it’s as old as all that. It’s a ship’s grabber arm, right? It might have broken off in some historical battle or something! It could be incredibly important!”

They said, “It’s not,” in perfect unison.

Wio’s voice came over the loudspeaker from where she’d been watching on the cameras. “There’s a Mesmer colony not far from here. Public info says it’s relatively new, so not the one that lost that, but it would take some detailed math and a huge map to track how far it could have drifted in that many centuries anyway. It can’t hurt to ask them if they want it for a museum, right?”

Zhee said that would be deeply embarrassing to even ask.

Trrili wanted nothing to do with it.

Captain Sunlight decided it was worth a shot.

Both Mesmers stalked out of the cargo bay with loud declarations that they would be on the other side of the ship, and not to bother them until the shame was done with.

The captain asked Blip and Blop to clean the thing up as best they could. Paint volunteered to help, and ran to get brushes.

I asked permission to be in the cockpit during the phone call. Surely that opinion couldn’t be universal. Surely.

Or, I learned soon after, maybe it could.

“A what?” asked the local authority, a pink-and-blue Mesmer with glittering chips of crystal forming intricate whorls on her exoskeleton. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Captain Sunlight addressed the screen with dignity. “A historical artifact of Mesmer design. It appears to be a mechanical version of your glorious blade-arms, made of gray metal.”

“That’s disappointing,” the authority said with a flick of both antennae. “Kindly throw it into the nearest sun.”

I blurted, “What?”

Captain Sunlight gave me a look, but didn’t say to be quiet. I took that as permission to keep talking.

“But this is part of your history! A record of how you got where you are!”

“Ah, a human,” the Mesmer said with a sigh. “Tell me, when your offspring commit an act of art for the first time, you are proud, yes? And so are they, for a while? You might even put it on display. But then they grow up and never want to see it again out of shame? This does not deserve a place on the fridge. Into the sun it goes.”

Nothing I could say would sway that decision, not that Captain Sunlight let me try for long. She turned the conversation to business, and ended up convincing the Mesmer authority to pay us a small fee for the inconvenience of going out of our way. (We were on official courier business, after all, and time was money.) (Yes, people say that even in space. The Mesmer didn’t bat an antennae at it.)

The final agreement also included an escort ship, partly to make sure we really did get rid of the thing, and partly to help us do so. It had a tractor beam thingy that could be set in reverse to punt things across the starfield. Very handy for launching artifacts into the sun. No, I didn’t ask what they normally used it for. That kind of tech could easily have been an accidental discovery, and I wasn’t about to bring up any other possible sources of cultural embarrassment.

But I was going to quietly give my respects to the ancient bit of machinery before it was atomized. I stood in the cleaned-up cargo hold next to the unassuming piece of dull, dented metal. Crouching, I ran my fingers over it, committing the feel to memory: from the torn wires to the crooked serrations. A couple of those little teeth were bent. I’d never know what bent them.

Loud conversation approached, and my crewmates entered the room, bustling around to prepare. I stepped back as the captain arrived, and I took up a position by the door. I had a good view of the airlock from there.

As Blip and Blop in their exo suits hefted it to throw, as Wio angled the ship to get us in line with the escort, as Captain Sunlight gave the command and the relic was launched toward the distant sun, I silently gave my respects. I sent mental appreciation to the ages-ago Mesmers who had made it.

Great job, you guys. You must have been SO proud.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #culture clash #in spaaace

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Home Run

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your friend for years, a constant in an ever-evolving life. You’ve always harbored a small crush on him. All it takes is one night to change everything. | Ft. “Are we on a date right now?” requested by @xlostinobsessionsx and “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” “You’re getting shy on me now? Really?,” and “Kiss me. Like you mean it.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Baseball, mentions of anxiety, mentions of deployment, mention of parent death (Goose is mentioned but it’s blink and you miss it), mentions of family issues. I think that’s it but let me know if you see anything else!

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!Reader (call sign Angel)

Word Count: 9k (......sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Bradley Bradshaw sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs opposite your desk, coffee in either hand as he spared you an expectant glance. Though he shouldn’t have looked so comfortable, at home amongst the stark white of the medical office, he’d become a near permanent fixture since returning to Top Gun.

Years had passed, several of which with only sporadic contact shared, but Bradley had barreled back into your life as if it had only been a matter of days. With the aviators he wore so often hooked into the collar of his undershirt and cheeks tinted pink from the California sun, you could almost believe it - convince yourself that you were the same twenty-somethings you’d once been - as you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Good morning, Bradley. I’m doing fine, how are you? Gee, the weather sure is nice, though I heard it might rain,” you drawled, tone decidedly unimpressed as you glanced away from your chart to fix him with the blandest look you could muster. The lack of greeting was something he found himself guilty of often - it was nothing for him to drop into a conversation without preamble, leaving you scrambling to catch up - and you had a habit of calling him on it. However, when you were met with little more than raised brows, you allowed yourself a quiet laugh. “Manners, Bradshaw. What, were you raised in a barn?”

“I was raised in Virginia,” he reminded you, shrugging as he did so. “And spent four years in a fraternity. So, do with that what you will.” It took a great deal of effort to conceal your laughter, despite your amusement being his ultimate goal, as he swallowed his own with a sip of coffee. “Anyway,” he redirected, look pointed, “Saturday. Plans?”

With a sigh, you exchanged the pen in your hand for the coffee he slid across the desk - only slightly awed he still remembered your order - and provided Bradley with your full attention. It was clear he was a man on a mission, unbothered by the limited time to waste until training, and wouldn’t leave until he had an answer. So, you settled into your chair.

“Nope. I’m free.” It was clear that he had something in mind, an adventure of some sort he deemed you worthy of joining, but weeks had passed since you last spent quality time together. It wasn’t uncommon but you wanted to tease him, make him spell it out, so you hummed thoughtfully. “Nat’s sister is in town, Bob’s back home on leave, Mickey’s binging Star Trek in chronological order - which I’ve already done -, and Jake’s, well, Jake. So, I figured I’d just go to the beach or something. Why?”

Bradley frowned, an unexpected twinge of something akin to hurt clouding his otherwise bright eyes, as he lifted his own coffee. “I’m not on that list,” he pointed out, brows furrowing as he fixed you with a look you’d been on the receiving end of far too many times. “Why?”

The reaction was a little more serious than you were expecting and it was your turn to frown. One glance at Bradley told you that his inquiry, while uttered as teasingly as he could muster so early in the morning, was genuine. A brief flash of hurt crossed his face, darkened his eyes for a split second, before he hid his frown behind a sip of coffee.

A small pang of guilt needled at your skin. Though you’d meant it to be teasing, a joke, you never thought Bradley would take it as anything else.

“I just figured you’d be with Mav again,” you explained, only a little guilty. It was accompanied by an uncertain shrug as you stirred your coffee, though you knew Bradley could tell how bad you felt. “You’ve been with him the last few weekends and I didn’t want to interrupt the bonding.” When Bradley made a face, brows furrowing as he attempted to recount exactly how much time he’d been spending with Maverick - and when you last spent time together - you laughed quietly. “I think it’s nice, Roo,” you insisted, shooting him what you hoped to be a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along. And now that we’re stationed together again, we can hang out whenever. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s very thoughtful and I appreciate it,” he declared, slipping his foot under the gap in your desk to nudge yours, “but call me out when I get distant. You’re important to me.”

Though your entire body grew warm at the weight of his declaration - the sincerity with which he spoke, the earnest look in his eyes, the soft gravel of his voice - you swallowed the butterflies threatening to escape and shook your head.

Bradley Bradshaw was one of your closest friends and had been a part of your life for much of your adulthood. You’d seen him at his best - and at his worst - and knew what it meant to love him. He had a tendency to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake, unintentionally as he’d always been charismatic yet emotionally unavailable, and you’d spent the last ten years determined not to be one.

Instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the feelings you’d realized last time you were stationed together, the feelings you’d spent years questioning and rationalizing and compartmentalizing; instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the warmth, then the chill of realization that he couldn’t mean that in the way you so desperately hoped, you shook your head.

“There’s a difference between being distant and making up for lost time, Roo.”

Bradley waved a hand, dismissing the idea even as his gaze dropped to the cup in his hands for a moment. “Anyway,” he redirected, lifting his gaze once more after a moment of silence. “There’s this new place downtown. It’s a bar but it’s got an arcade, go-karts, mini-golf; all kinds of shit.” He paused, for dramatic effect, you were sure - he’d been spending too much time with Fanboy, you decided, though you managed to keep from rolling your eyes. “There’s also a batting cage.”

The foundation of your friendship with Bradley was built on a handful of shared interests and experiences. You’d both had difficult upbringings, marred by tragedy, and both went to a traditional university rather than the Naval Academy. And, in the pursuit of your degrees, both spent years as student athletes. So, if the grin threatening to lift the corners of his mouth was anything to go by, Bradley knew he had you with the mention of the batting cage.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Fritz took his girlfriend there last weekend. She said it was nice.” Even before her confirmation, you’d seen it online and placed it on a list of ‘to-visit’ spots. There was no question that Bradley would be the perfect companion to enjoy all the bar had to offer but you continued to play coy. “Apparently, they’re working with that brewery, that one with the nice taproom we went to a few months ago.”

For a brief moment, silence settled over the corner of the medical office you called yours. Bradley waited, just until you returned your gaze to his, before raising a brow at you. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” His amusement was obvious, laughter badly hidden behind his coffee cup as he awaited your confirmation, but he wasted no time giving in to you. “Do you want to go with me, check it out?”

“It’s only fair, since you’ve been avoiding me.” The unamused look Bradley shot you nearly made you break, laughter bubbling in your through - regardless of the pang of guilt you felt earlier, you knew he wouldn’t take offense - but you bit your tongue and nodded. “Yeah, alright. S’long as you don’t pout when I embarrass you at the batting cage.”

A scoff left his lips as he stood from his seat, mission accomplished and ready to finally begin his day. “We were both pitchers, Angel,” he reminded you, rolling his eyes as he gathered his coffee and waited for you to do the same. “Neither of us can bat for shit.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, Bradshaw.” You followed his lead, gathering the items necessary for you to begin your rounds, as you offered him a saccharine smile. “I was a cleanup hitter.”

The word ‘bullshit,’ disguised with a purposefully awful cough escaped Bradley’s lips. When you rolled your eyes, amused at his disbelief, he laughed. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. I swear I’ve told you this before, but look up my stats, frat boy,” you implored him, not bothering to hide your laughter as you rounded the desk and headed for the door with him close behind. “You were day drinking and I was in a batting cage. We were not the same.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken by the sounds of the medical staff beginning their morning shift, as you ambled down the hall with Bradley close by. Finally, after a beat, he hummed thoughtfully.

“Guess we’ll see on Saturday, then.” He brushed past you to hold the door, body close enough for the scent of his cologne to overpower the antiseptic and cloud your thoughts, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as he glanced down at you. Still, you swallowed the butterflies beginning to swarm in your stomach as he proposed, “Fewest hits buys dinner?”

“I’m an expensive date, Bradshaw.” The taunt was nowhere near as strong as you intended, nowhere near as sharp, but if Bradley noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply shrugged as you both paused just shy of the exit.

“So am I, Angel.”

Then, for just a moment, Bradley studied you. Those warm brown eyes raked over your skin, rapidly heating from the weight of his attention, as that amused grin never faltered. His eyes, however, softened considerably as you blinked at him. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, some witty quip that would make you laugh, but before he could speak, the door opened and a handful of nurses streamed into the hallway.

The group, who you knew well and worked with daily, all bid you both a good morning - though you could see from their not-so-discreet stares that you’d be answering questions about your relationship, or lack thereof, with Bradley later on - and the moment was broken.

Bradley spared a glance at his watch, seemed to realize the time, and reached for the door. “I’ll see you Saturday.” And with that, he stepped outside, off in the direction of the hangar, leaving you to shake your head.

Spending time with Bradley was something you’d always adored, regardless of what it meant and where you ended up - whether it was at the Hard Deck, surrounded by the group of pilots you’d been accepted into without question, or out on the beach, alone as you watched the waves roll in. Though you had a tendency to tease, to give him a hard time, you were glad to accept any invitation to make up for lost time.

And while plans made at the beginning of the week always seemed so far away, especially plans made with Bradley, Saturday seemed to roll around far quicker than you expected.

Between new students - some losing the battle against the California sun, others losing the battle against a bottle of tequila - and yearly appointments all seeming to fall within the same few day span, you barely had time to breathe, let alone think about your weekend plans. Bradley was also kept busy, pulled in one direction or another as he prepared for yet another special mission, and your paths only crossed briefly throughout the week.

Though communication was limited - only a handful of words shared in passing, along with a text or two to confirm plans hadn’t changed - Bradley still arrived at your place at six on the dot.

Bradley made it halfway up the sidewalk, ready to knock at your door and greet you with a grin - some witty quip on his lips about how nice you cleanup - before you stepped out onto the small stoop with a bright grin of your own.

“Ya know, I was kind of expecting you to be fashionably late, Roo.”

While he’d never been late for work - Bradley understood the importance of time management, valued his job and wanted to make a positive impression on his superiors - he had a habit of making a grand entrance elsewhere. Most nights, he sauntered into the Hard Deck fifteen minutes after everyone else, dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans that always hugged his thighs just right. He nearly always showed up to Sunday brunch with a hangover, twenty minutes after the agreed upon time, and already nursing a hangover.

But the thing about Bradley’s habitual lateness; he’d never been late for you.

If you made plans, agreed to spend quality time together without the rest of the Daggers, he made it a point to show up. Hungover, exhausted, burnt out from a long week - it never seemed to matter. Bradley had never left you hanging and you’d long since stopped wondering when that day would come. Instead, you thanked your lucky stars that Bradley Bradshaw deemed you worthy of his time and attention and grinned at him as you approached the Bronco.

Bradley caught the teasing lilt to your voice immediately, saw the glittering amusement in your eyes, and laughed himself as he shook his head. “I figured I got lucky enough getting you to hang out with me. Didn’t want to push it by being late.”

“Very thoughtful.” In true Bradley fashion, he opened the Bronco door for you, aviators slipping down the bridge of his nose as he took in the outfit - casual, but still nicer than anything you’d wear to the Hard Deck - you wore. You ignored the warmth creeping up your chest at the weight of his gaze, swallowed it in hopes of drowning the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach, as you shook your head. “And chivalrous, too! It’s a wonder you’re so painfully single, Bradshaw.”

The roll of his eyes was playful, unbothered by the teasing jab at his relationship status - something that had become a running joke among the Daggers by this point, anyway - as he rounded the Bronco to join you. “It’s the emotional unavailability,” he defended, shrugging as he turned on the vehicle. “Or something like that.”

“At least you’re self-aware. That counts for something, I think.”

Occasionally, you wondered if the jabs at Bradley’s lack of a love life - or, rather, lack of a committed love life, lack of a steady love life, as he’d had his fair share of flings over the years, though they’d slowed to a complete stop since his return to Top Gun - ever bothered him.

Jake started it all a few months after the Daggers’ friendship became real, shortly after that first mission ended. He made some stupid joke about Bradley’s lack of commitment after he found himself committed to a pretty bartender and it was true enough. Bradley hadn’t had a steady partner in years, not one that he deemed worthy of introducing to his friends, anyway, and you all took turns playing armchair therapist to rationalize why.

Still, Bradley seemed to take it all in stride.

As he always seemed to, Bradley shook his head and laughed quietly as he pulled away from the curb. Instead of arguing, carrying on with the bit as he sometimes did, the conversation fell into a natural lull as he allowed his usual playlist - comprised of eighties throwbacks and the occasional song from his days as a frat boy - to fill the cab of the Bronco.

While it should’ve been uncomfortable, silence with Bradley never was. Even in the beginning of your friendship, back when you were both bright-eyed and overwhelmed with the seemingly endless possibilities your futures seemed to hold, Bradley was was comfortable. And even back then, when your heart seemed to skip a beat every time he smiled at you - every time you were certain your skin would remain permanently on fire, every time you were certain your giddy laughter would give you away - it was always easy.

No matter how much time seemed to pass, no matter how many miles separated you, Bradley had always been a constant. And it seemed that no matter where in the world you found yourselves, when you reunited, there was an overwhelming feeling of returning home.

When you stopped to think about it, that comfort - that feeling of home, that stability - was what kept you from risking your friendship with Bradley.

Though you’d harbored an ever-growing, seemingly never fading, crush on him since the day you met, pushing for anything more came with a risk of losing him for good. Acting on those feelings, acknowledging them outside the confines of your own thoughts, meant risking everything you’d built.

The friendship you shared survived distance, months spent oceans apart; it survived seemingly endless stretches of time with limited communication; it survived deployments, periods of discomfort, moments of doubt, and everything in between because there was no pressure.

With Bradley, there were never any expectations.

Bradley had always been comfortable because with him, you felt the freedom to just exist. He never expected you to be anything other than yourself, accepted you for the person that you were, and saw the beauty in that. He never judged you for saying the wrong thing or having a bad day, never thought less of you for needing a shoulder to lean on. He never made you feel less than.

There was never a fear of fucking it all up but you knew the moment you crossed that line, the moment you allowed yourself to give in and fall completely in love with Bradley Bradshaw, you were opening yourself up for a heartbreak you’d only had nightmares of.

Before you could spiral further, fall into a pit of despair so deep it would take the rest of the weekend to climb out of, Bradley’s voice cut through the din inside your head. That voice, rasp a balm for your suddenly aching chest, rang in your ears as he declared, “Hate to interrupt your attempt to solve all the world’s problems, but we’re here.”

A cursory glance out the window confirmed his statement and you blinked as you took in the sheer size of it all. “Fritz really undersold this place,” you said, sparing Bradley a quick glance before eying the packed parking lot. “It’s massive.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think it was this.”

A hum of agreement was all that seemed necessary and even that was lost to the ether as Bradley parked and shut off the engine. While you were entranced by all the bar offered, eyes wide as you scanned the patio just to the side, he was quick to round the Bronco and open the door for you. He grinned when you shot him a look, eyes sparkling with a sort of mischief as he awaited your teasing comment about chivalry, but you both remained quiet for a moment as you crossed the parking lot.

The bar itself looked like something plucked from your fondest childhood memories; a clash of past and present with an arcade facade, a mini-golf course, batting cages, and a go-kart track out back, all accompanied by a few bars scattered around, and you were struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia as gravel crunched beneath your feet.

Bradley seemed to be, too, as he gestured to the course with a grin. “I think every mini-golf place I ever went to growing up had one of those bridges.” He pointed to an awkward length bridge, covering the short distance between holes split by a trickle of water meant to represent a river, and you laughed.

“At least they’re useful.” At that moment, a small group climbed single file over the bridge - when they could’ve easily just stepped over - and you hummed. “Well, sort of. All the ones on the Gulf Coast have random alligators.” Bradley’s laughter was cut short as he raised a brow, question of whether you meant real alligators or statues - or maybe both - but you only shrugged.

Though you hadn’t been stationed together in years, you’d kept up with one another. Any time you moved, packed it all up and traded this coast for that one, you shared the details with one another. Bradley had been sent photos from Florida - pictures of alligators and Disney and stormy beaches - while you were sent photos from Virginia and, after the fact, the middle of the ocean.

The only time either of you kept your relocation a secret was his initial return to Fightertown as it came after yours and he’d wanted to surprise you.

That line of conversation and the following contemplative silence didn’t last very long as Bradley spared you a glance. “What were you thinking so hard about on the drive? Thought I saw smoke coming out of your ears.”

Bradley was often direct with you, asked questions you would sometimes prefer not to answer, but there was no chance you intended to share your line of thinking. He would get it, you knew that, but the conversation was unnecessary as you were doing just fine hiding it all. So, you shook your head and offered him your best smile. “Doesn’t matter. Just a long week.” That wasn’t technically a lie, it had been a painfully long week, but he didn’t need to know that all thoughts outside of him ceased to exist the moment you stepped out your front door to see him waiting for you. Instead, you attempted to redirect by gesturing to the batting cages. “We starting or ending there?”

There was a look in his eyes that made you fearful he would continue his line of questioning, one that said he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to think better of pushing. “I was thinking we end there,” he reasoned as he glanced over and offered you a half-smile. “Build the suspense, you know?”

“Or get enough drinks in that neither of us will be up to our usual.” It was playfully accusatory, teasing in a way that felt so natural with Bradley, and you felt a small sense of triumph as he laughed.

“You were in a batting cage, I was day drinking,” he reminded you, snickering as he repeated your quip from earlier in the week. When you cut your eyes at him, his smile seemed to double in size. “A beer or two won’t have any impact at all on my batting average, Angel.”

“I’d like to say that I’m surprised,” you sighed as you stepped through the front door, “but I don’t think I am.”

Bradley rolled his eyes fondly as he followed you inside, close behind to keep from being separated. “C’mon,” he urged, “first round’s on me.”

Knowing Bradley, every round would be on him. He’d insisted since being reunited, declared he was making up for lost time when he dragged you out on nights he knew you’d rather be in bed, but you knew better. Bradley was better with actions than with words - small gestures, such as buying a round or completing an annoying to-do list task - and used them to show that he cared.

This was a conversation you’d had a dozen times before, a fight he never let you win, so you made no effort to argue as you headed for the bar.

The entire building was impressive, decorated to match the overall theme of childhood nostalgia with neon signs and patterned carpet. The walls were lined with old games - Pac-Man, Space Invaders, pinball machines - and it seemed that everywhere you turned, there was something new to discover.

Little conversation was shared at first as both you and Bradley were too busy marveling at the sheer size of the space. It was almost overwhelming, too many choices in one building, but soon, you were wandering through the vastness of it all in search of your next activity.

Much of the night passed in a blur of bright colors and loud noises. The games themselves were fun, easy enough when you had a drink in your hand - though you and Bradley both kept it light with only one drink each, too busy having fun to return to the bar and wait. Bradley’s presence, however, made it all the better.

Bradley kept you close as you weaved through the crowds, one hand at the center of your back - respectful, but still enough to have your breath catching in your throat with every press of his fingers as you felt the warmth of his palm through the material of your top.

While you opted against the go-karts and mini-golf, you’d already formulated a plan to return with the rest of the Daggers in tow. You and Bradley mapped it all out between games of skee ball and Crazy Taxi - you’d begin with go-karts, before the group started drinking, and end with the pair of you showing everyone up in the batting cages. It was perfect, silly and fun, and you found yourself forgetting everything that wasn’t the immense joy you were experiencing.

Hours passed in a haze of giddy laughter and jokes traded at the others’ expense before you finally made your way outside. With his hand still at the center of your back, slipping lower with every step, Bradley guided you to the batting cages with a grin.

“Alright, slugger,” he teased, eyes bright and glittering in the overhead lights as he gestured to the rack of bats. “Lady’s first. Show me how it’s done.”

With a playful shake of your head, you stepped away from Bradley and reached for a helmet and a bat. There was no doubt that he believed you - he believed nearly everything you said, whether he should have or not - but he was once a pitcher, too. It was an experience you shared, one few people you saw daily understood, and you knew this was less about you proving yourself and more about finding something you had in common and celebrating it.

The entire night was a way to spend time together doing something you both loved, something you rarely got to indulge in these days, and you were grateful he’d suggested it. Even as you stepped into the batting cage, weight of Bradley’s gaze heavy against your skin, you felt nothing but the giddy excitement you’d been experiencing since stepping foot into the bar.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve felt nervous. The teasing, the playful jeering as you took a few practice swings, might’ve made you afraid of looking stupid. But this was Bradley. While he could be competitive, it was always playful - with you, anyway. This was fun and you knew he would cheer you on regardless, so you nodded when he asked if you were ready to start.

When the first ball came flying toward you, speed at the max setting, you inhaled deeply before taking a swing. The ball whistled as it soared high, a resounding ‘ping’ echoed through the cages and earned a few glances from passersby, and you felt a sort of relief as it flew into the net before bouncing back toward the return.

Laughter, amused and a little awed, rang out behind you as you caught Bradley shake his head from the corner of your eye. “You weren’t joking.”

“You almost sound surprised, Bradshaw,” you teased, though he didn’t - not in the slightest. “This one’s going to the left, top corner,” you informed him as you shifted your hips and waited for the next ball.

As it flew high and left with another sharp ‘ping,’ Bradley leaned against the barrier and folded his arms over his chest. “Where are we goin’ for dinner?” The question was asked with a smile, bright and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Your choice since I’m clearly going to be paying for it.”

“It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Even as you spoke, words interrupted by a huff of effort as you took a swing, Bradley seemed unconvinced. And, if he’d been as honest as you, he had every reason to be. With a laugh, you offered, “I was thinking about that place by the beach, the one with the cool patio.”

“Sure.” Bradley would’ve allowed you to choose regardless - and wouldn’t have let you pay for him, even if you proved to be an awful batter - because that was the kind of friend he’d always been. The restaurant on the beach was a shared favorite, however, a staple that you visited at least once a month, and you knew you would’ve likely ended up there, anyway. So, you felt little remorse about your choice, even as he continued. “You’re only two balls in but you win,” he relented, laughing as he lifted his soda to take a sip. “Where’s this one headed?”

“Straight up the middle.”

Between pitches, you spared him a glance over your shoulder. You expected him to look bemused, pretending to be put out by your ability, but there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was fond, brighter than you expected, and you almost convinced yourself it was pride that had his shoulders set a little straighter as a passing pair praised your ability.

Even the brief notion that Bradley was proud of you, impressed by your ability in a way few others had been, was enough to warm you from within. Heat flooded your veins, much as it did every time he spared you a wayward compliment, and it took a conscious effort to keep yourself from preening under his scrutiny.

“Why am I not surprised you’re a place hitter?” His question was punctuated with another resounding ‘ping,’ followed by a ball flying into the net, as he shook his head once more. “Starting to think you were grown in a lab, Angel.”

It was clearly teasing, a soft jab accompanied by laughter, but you couldn’t help the bashful shrug as you readied yourself for another ball. His jokes about your perfection had become more frequent, accompanied by soft laughter, and though you knew he’d witnessed your flaws, it still made your skin prickle any time Bradley saw the good in you.

Still, you swallowed the warmth and tightened your grip on the bat. “Told you, batting cages while you were day drinking.” There was a brief pause as you took another swing, this hit a line drive to the left, before you admitted, “Softball and nursing school didn’t leave much time for fun or friends so, batting cage it was.”

“We would’ve been friends,” he declared, certain in a way you wished you could be - though you were grateful to have met him later in life. You knew yourself well enough to know that you likely wouldn’t have been able to handle the schoolgirl crush you’d formed almost immediately after meeting him, not then. But Bradley didn’t give you much time to dwell as he hummed, “We could’ve been day drinking and hitting the batting cages together.”

“I don’t know if I would’ve befriended frat boy Bradley.” Though you offered him a teasing grin, laughed when he rolled his eyes, you knew that you would have. You were half-certain that you would’ve found Bradley in any life and fallen just as hard, no matter the circumstances of your meeting. But you kept that realization to yourself as you teased, “His idea of fun sounds like it could end in an ER visit.”

“Would’ve given a student nurse some real life experience,” he reasoned, smile growing into something brilliant when you laughed. “But at least you admit it sounds like fun.” Bradley tipped his head then, brows furrowing as he watched you take another swing. “Why’d you play, though? Nursing always sounded hard enough without being an athlete, too.”

Over the years, you’d had more conversations with Bradley than you could count. There were very few topics that hadn’t come up as you shared nearly everything - your career, your friends, your hobbies, your interests, your hometowns - but family was one of them. And, in a long line of similarities, your reason for playing softball and his reason for playing baseball was rooted in family.

Bradley once mentioned that baseball was originally deigned something to do, a task that got him out of the house and incorporated him into the community when he and his mother moved to Virginia after Goose’s death. He once shared that it was something his father loved as a child, an alternate life path he could’ve taken, and indulging in it made him feel a little closer to the father he missed. He admitted that it made him feel weightless - long before he experienced true weightlessness in the cockpit of a jet - but he’d never asked you why.

It was just one of those things that went unspoken until it didn’t.

“Family,” you revealed, not bothering to turn even as he made a noise of understanding. “My grandmother played. She got married and had kids really young. Sports weren’t really a thing for women in her time, anyway, but there was a rec league in town. She was amazing; a switch hitter, place hitter, a damn good pitcher. If she’d been born a little later, she could’ve made a life for herself playing. But she wasn’t and she couldn’t. My mom tried to take after her but she never really got the hang of it. I was the only one who did, so, I guess I figured I had to be the one to live the dream for them.”

The weight of your rationale was not lost on Bradley, you knew that, but he was never one to push for more. That was enough, enough vulnerability for a batting cage in the middle of a crowd, so he shifted. “Do you still play?”

Once upon a time, after a handful of drinks and a few stories about the Naval Academy from the Daggers, Bradley shared the things he missed about college. Baseball was one of them as he hadn’t played since graduation. He’d been asked, a handful of times, to join in on the odd pickup game here or there but it wasn’t the same and you knew that. There was little a pickup game could do to recapture the feeling you’d experienced on a field with teammates but Bradley seemed to realize that you’d at least swung a bat since graduating.

“Sometimes,” you confirmed, finally sparing him a sideways glance. Those brown eyes followed your every move, every shift of your hips or flex of your foot, and you felt your skin prickle under his scrutiny. You shrugged, returning your gaze to the machine, and took a deep breath. “I join local leagues when I can, if I hear about them. It was easier when I was working at a hospital with civilian nurses but most of the time, they don’t really want me joining in. I can never promise I’ll be around for a whole season or that I can make it to everything. I get it, though. They want someone who’s going to be there.”

When the machine finally shut off, you turned to face Bradley. There was a look on his face that you couldn’t read - something contemplative, softer than you expected - as he declared, “Their loss. They’d be lucky to have you, Angel.”

Bradley’s sincerity was obvious, almost achingly so, and you felt your heart clench at his declaration. It meant more than you knew it should but before you could dwell, consider exactly how it made you feel, Bradley headed for the controls.

“Wait,” you called out, before he could press the ‘start’ button. “Don’t you want to bat? I feel like I’ve been in here forever.”

“Don’t mind me.” He smiled, this one real and bright, as he gestured to you. You stood, still inside the cage with a bat clutched in one hand, and lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A storm of butterflies filled the pit of your stomach. Your skin heated, your heart thumped just a bit too hard in your chest, and you had to tip your head to hide your face as you shook your head. There was a slight edge to his voice, a deeper rasp that you’d only heard used at the Hard Deck - locked in conversation with pretty girls you watched him take home instead of you - and you were almost convinced you imagined it. However, before you could question it, Bradley laughed.

“Oh, you’re getting shy on me now? Really?” As desperately as you wanted to make some sort of witty quip, return his teasing with some of your own and hope that your voice didn’t shake, you could only attempt to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest as he pressed the button. “I’m having plenty of fun watching you, Angel. Keep going!”

There was a warmth to Bradley’s comment that seeped into your bones, warmed you from within. Bradley complimented you frequently, sought to make you - and other friends, including Natasha - feel proud, but this was different. There was a weight to everything he’d said throughout the course of the night you’d never felt before.

The weight of his statement, the softness with which he spoke, had your voice catching in your throat as you waited for the machine to start. Your heart continued to thunder in your chest, cheeks heating, but you attempted to disregard the feeling of Bradley’s gaze burning into your skin.

When you finally found your voice, heart still beating just a touch too fast even after the first hit, you shook your head. “One more round,” you relented, “and then you’re up, Bradshaw.”

If Bradley heard the waver in your voice, if he noticed the slight heave of your chest as you fought to even your breathing, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he nodded easily. “Of course. We have to end the night with a laugh,” he reasoned, poking fun at his own abilities. “You gonna be my relief hitter when I strike out?”

“It’s a batting cage, Roo.” It was meant to make you laugh, meant to ease the tension you knew he could see in your shoulders, but it worked as you leaned into a swing. “There are no strikeouts.”

Before he could counter, make some joke that would keep you laughing and fully ease you back into the moment, a passerby - who’d definitely had more than your one drink - yelled, “Damn, man. Your girl’s killing it!”

“Yeah, she is.”

Three words, a simple acknowledgement of a drunken compliment, and you nearly missed the next pitch that flew toward you. It likely meant nothing to him - he likely hadn’t even noticed the man call you his girl - but if you weren’t careful, you knew this moment would play on a loop in the back of your mind.

It was intoxicating, the idea that someone else saw you as Bradley’s girl, but you made a herculean effort to stay focused on the task at hand as you took swing after swing. A handful of passersby continued to cheer, drunken words of encouragement rang out with every ball you sent soaring, but Bradley kept quiet as you flew through the remaining pitches on the machine.

There were no witty quips, no jokes, and you were grateful for the relative silence as you allowed the repetitive motion to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Finally, when the machine reached zero and you’d reached a state of semi-normalcy, you turned to watch as he grabbed his own helmet and bat.

Bradley approached with a smile, though it was softer than it had been all night - gentle, almost timid in a way you’d never seen him - and brushed your shoulder with his own as you passed in the entryway. Though it was far from the first time he’d touched you, a jolt of electricity flew through your body at the contact and you struggled to inhale deeply as you offered him what you hoped to be a teasing grin.

“Alright, frat boy,” you hummed, voice quieter than you intended but still playful enough, “show me what you’ve got.”

The quip made Bradley laugh, even as he shook his head at the nickname. “Prepare to be woefully underwhelmed, Angel,” he teased, offering you a grin as he settled into his stance.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

With a nod from Bradley, you pressed the ‘start’ button and watched as the first pitch flew toward him. And, with that very first swing, you knew he’d been telling the truth.

Bradley’s first attempt ended in a foul ball, right off the tip of the bat, and the second fell just a little too close to his hands. His third was a complete miss, though he made a decent effort, and you lifted your hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter.

There was no telling how much of this was an act - playing up his lack of ability to make you laugh, to make you feel better about your own prowess - but you couldn’t help yourself as you winced when he dropped his shoulder and missed a third ball.

“Nevermind. You really are a shitty batter, Bradshaw.”

“Funny, that’s what every coach I’ve ever had said.” When you laughed, shaking your head at his self-deprecating joke, Bradley took another swing. With another miss, he spared you a quick glance over his shoulder. “This is why I was a pitcher,” he acknowledged, glancing at a ball that rolled past his feet. “Next time, we’ll go to a field somewhere and I can redeem myself.”

“No redemption necessary. I believe you’re a good pitcher,” you promised him, laughing as he jolted away from a ball spiraling too close for his comfort. “Pitchers aren’t supposed to be able to hit.”

Bradley made yet another attempt and you nearly clapped as this one connected and flew into the top right corner. With it, Bradley laughed. “That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he declared, smiling as he spared you another glance. “Press stop for me, Angel?”

With a laugh of your own, you pressed the ‘stop’ button and waited a moment for Bradley to exit the batting cage. As he stepped out, returned his helmet and bat, you took a moment to study him.

Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. Though you kept your feelings for him a closely guarded secret, everyone knew you found him attractive. You weren’t the only one who thought so, especially on those nights he wore the jeans that hugged his thighs just right to the Hard Deck - especially on the nights he wore his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned, collar of his undershirt weighed down by aviators and exposing a sliver of sun kissed skin - but you were always struck by just how pretty he was up close.

Though you’d never been much of a fan of the mustache - a commonality on every base you’d ever been stationed at, especially among pilots - it worked for Bradley. It suited him and you were glad he hadn’t been talked out of it yet.

Even on the toughest of days, Bradley always offered you a smile. He made it a point to be honest with you, to tell you when he felt rough or when he’d seen better days, but he always left having shared at least one smile. It was always encouraging, always there when you needed it, and you were grateful that Bradley deemed you worthy of his smile.

And those eyes - warm and beautiful, always so expressive whenever he regarded you - never failed to make you weak in the knees. With every gaze you shared, with every glance exchanged, you found yourself falling deeper into a hole you knew you would never be able to climb free from.

However, as Bradley turned to you, you felt the air escape your lungs as you began to realize that you were alright with never being able to climb free.

As afraid as you were that the comfort you found in Bradley would be lost should you allow yourself to fall completely, you realized that he would never allow that.

Bradley had been a part of your life for years, there for you through the best and worst moments of your life. No matter what happened, he’d proven to be a constant - a home for you to return to in even the most troubling of times. There was never any doubt that he would remain in your life, even if you learned what it was to love and lose Bradley Bradshaw, and you began to accept that.

In a stunning moment of realization, you came to the understanding that should you choose to give this a try, should Bradley want you in the way that you wanted him, he would do everything in his power to be there for you regardless. And should he not want you - though, as you finally gave yourself the space to consider, you wondered if the things you rationalized as friendship actually meant more to him - he would never leave you out in the cold.

Even if everything that could go wrong did go wrong, even if a relationship happened and ended in heartbreak, you were confident that Bradley Bradshaw would remain constant.

After years of stability, years of love and patience, there was little that could push him away.

“Angel?” Bradley’s voice broke through the haze, drew you out of your thoughts and back to reality as you blinked at him. He frowned, concerned, and took a half-step closer as he studied your face. “Are you okay? I lost you for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” With a smile, you gave Bradley a nod - hopefully convincing him that you were, in fact, alright - before gesturing to the mini-golf course. “I think we played everything inside but there’s always mini-golf, if you want to keep playing. But I’m good if you want to call it a night.”

“I think my pride’s taken a severe enough hit,” he teased, expression relaxing slightly as he glanced toward the parking lot. “Let’s get you home. It’s almost past your bedtime, anyway.”

Though you rolled your eyes, you shook your head fondly as Bradley fell into step beside you and began heading slowly toward the Bronco.

The question you’d wanted to ask for a long while - whether Bradley wanted the relationship you did, whether he saw you win the same light - lingered on the tip of your tongue. After years of wondering ‘what-if,’ you finally allowed yourself to ask the question aloud.

“Bradley?” Warm brown eyes met yours, soft and still slightly concerned, as he hummed his acknowledgement. “Is this…” You weighed your words for a moment, considering, before you finally settled on a question. “Are we on a date right now?”

A soft, half-smile lifted the corner of Bradley’s mouth as he reached into his pocket in search of his keys. It was almost bashful, the way he ducked his head, and you swallowed to keep yourself grounded as you waited.

“I wanted it to be,” he admitted, voice quiet as the din of the bar began to fade. “I was going to really ask, make it obvious that’s what I wanted, I just…”

Bradley’s hesitation felt familiar. His shrug, noncommittal and questioning, was the same thing you found yourself doing whenever Natasha questioned why you refused to make a move. There was a tinge of fear in the pink dusting his cheeks, in the set of his shoulders as you approached the Bronco, and you held your breath as he shook his head.

“I like being your friend. I’m happy to be your friend,” he stressed, coming to a stop at the passenger side of the Bronco. In the dim light of the parking lot, Bradley’s eyes glittered as they met yours. “I haven’t spent this long being your friend as some sort of consolation prize, worried you didn’t like me back. This isn’t settling and I don’t see our friendship as less than a relationship,” he assured you, soothing a worry you’d buried deep - one he likely sensed all along. “I just… I always knew it wasn’t the right time, we were both trying to establish ourselves. But when we were apart, I thought about you all the time. I missed you all the time, more than anyone else.”

Knowing that Bradley valued your friendship first, believed it to be important - worth as much as romantic love, not something he simply settled for in place of something he’d rather have - made your chest ache as you reached out to place a hand on his bicep.

“I missed you, too, Bradley.” When his eyes met yours, smile soft and gaze so reverential it nearly stole your breath, you couldn’t help but take a half-step closer.

Bradley remained quiet for a moment, as if considering his words, before he smiled bashfully. “I’ve always thought about this,” he admitted, hand lifting to cup your cheek. His palm seared your skin, warm and heavy and a comfort you’d wished for for years, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued.

“Why now?”

It wasn’t a question you needed an answer to, not at that moment - not under the buzz of a streetlight and in the view of drunken strangers - but it seemed important as you struggled to focus on anything other than the warmth of Bradley’s skin pressed to yours.

“Mav. He got his second chance with Penny,” Bradley reminded you, voice soft. “We never lost touch but this was another chance. I couldn’t let this one pass me by.”

“Kiss me.” Bradley smiled then, clearly pleased by your request, and leaned in. He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a chaste peck, and you nearly laughed at the feeling of his facial hair brushing your skin. His lips, slightly chapped, were warm and you lifted a hand to the back of his neck as you mumbled against his mouth, “Like you mean it, Roo.”

With a half-step, you pressed yourself impossibly closer and released the years of longing you’d suffered into the kiss. Fireworks popped behind your eyelids, blood simmered in your veins as heat engulfed your entire body, and you wondered if every kiss would be this wonderful as Bradley’s free hand fell to your waist. His fingers pressed into your hip, lips working against yours, as everything around you ceased to exist.

Despite the heat of the night, the dimness of the parking lot, you would’ve been content to remain there for the rest of the night. All that mattered was Bradley, his body pressed to yours as years of longing were swept away, but all too soon, a loud cheer broke through the blissful haze.

A group of drunken passersby cheered, whistled and encouraged you both as they wandered through the parking lot to meet an Uber, and you pulled away from Bradley with a laugh. As you tipped your head to hide your smile, mild embarrassment heating your skin, you decided that the moment still couldn’t have been better.

Bradley seemed to agree as he grinned and brushed a thumb across your cheekbone. “I can’t bat to save my life but I think tonight was a home run,” he teased, laughing as you groaned at the pun. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“Please. Before I decide I’ve had enough of the awful jokes and leave you hanging.”

Years had passed in which you suffered through Bradley’s awful jokes with a patient smile and a disbelieving laugh. There was little you wouldn’t do for him, even less he wouldn’t do for you, but you were still left giddy by his rolling eyes. “There’s no getting rid of me now,” he promised, laughing as he started up the Bronco. “We’re in it for the long haul.”

It was a promise, one that you hoped he’d be able to keep, and you felt a surge of hope for the future.

There was no expectation for the rest of the night, no pressure as you made your way back to your place, and you were content with that. Neither of you said much on the drive, simply allowed yourselves to exist together, and for the first time, you had no worries about ‘what-if.’ Instead, there was only the thought of ‘what could be.’

A deeper conversation had to be had, you both knew that, but there would be time for that later. There was an entire future awaiting you both.

And instead of wishing it to arrive so soon, you focused solely on the moment at hand.

As Bradley walked you up the sidewalk, palm warm in your own, you made no effort to wipe the smile from your lips. The giddy feeling in your chest made you feel as if you were walking on air, excited for the possibilities that now seemed endless.

The unknown was always terrifying and there was no guarantee for the future - no guarantee for anything more than the moment at hand. But Bradley Bradshaw had always been a constant. He’d been by your side for years, steady and true and loving. He was home, a light in the dark, and he was right; with him, you’d certainly hit a home run.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: It has been a Shit week. I’m going to go rewatch Top Gun and lay in the dark for a while. Enjoy the friends to lovers fun.

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