#like his uncle pete okay

[wade-winston-wilson]

[thebearer]

love me tomorrow |carmen berzatto x reader| part three

prompt: after time apart, you and carmen meet up for the first time since the fight.

or part three and the final part of the devastation fic (spoiler- the resolution haha). part one and part two can be found here :)

contains: angst. hurt with comfort (finally lol). mentions of mean!carmen, past fighting. past trauma, family trauma. carmen's been to therapy (yay). language. mom!reader x dad!carmen. fluff at the end, i had to make it a little funny and end on a light note bc it felt so heavy lol. word count- 4.7k+

“He’s here,” Sugar announced, the chime of a doorbell following nearly cinematically. 

Your shoulders tightened, stomach twisting with an ache of nerves you tried to swallow. You were so nervous- why were you so nervous? He’d fucked up, not you. He was here to grovel and beg for forgiveness, not you. Still, you felt your hairline prick with heat, hands clammy when you heard the door opening downstairs. 

“Okay,” You tried to steady your voice, exhaling slowly out of your nose. “I’m almost done.” 

Sugar nodded, not leaving, keeping her post behind you. “You know you don’t have to do this.” Sugar looked at you through the mirror, arms folded over her chest, watching you carefully for a sign- anything that would give her a red flag, make her call this off. 

“I know,” You swallowed your buzzing nerves, jittery in the pit of your belly. 

“I’ll tell him to go away. You give me the word, and I’ll kick him out.” Sugar stood, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you. “Seriously. One wrong word, wrong look, anything, he’s gone. Say the word.” 

You gave a small smile. “I think I’ll be alright, but thank you.” You muttered, looking down at your bare ring finger. You still found yourself reaching for your ring, heart spiking in a panic when you’d see it was gone, only to sink when you remembered why- why you left it. 

“I feel like it’s time.” You admitted, trying to convince yourself more than Natalie. You were still unsure, so jarred and hurt by the last time you’d spoken to Carmen. The things he’d said, how he’d hurt you. “I think we have to figure something out.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Sugar gave you a pointed look. “Trust me, if this was me, Pete would never live that down- never. He’d be at my mercy for the rest of his life, if I even let him back into it.” 

You knew Natalie wasn’t joking, that she would do just as she said, but that was also easy for her to say; when Pete could not fathom ever thinking those things about her, let alone saying them to her. Sometimes you wished Carmen could be softer, a little more like Pete in that way. 

“He’s been going to therapy,” Richie’s voice played in your mind. “He’s, uh, he’s doin’ good. Tryna get better for you, for both of you. He loves you, you know that, sweetheart. He’s just… He’s fucked up, y’know? We all are a little, but he’s workin’ on it.” 

You hoped that was true. For your marriage, for your baby. Sugar and Pete had been taking Teddy to see Carmen. You couldn't bring yourself to see him yet, but depriving him of Teddy felt cruel and inhumane. 

Downstairs, you could hear her gurgling, Carmen’s soft tone greeting her in hushed excitement. It soothed you, even for just a moment, it felt familiar- felt like home. What you’d missed so badly, what you longed for to have again. 

“Uncle Carm, why haven’t you been staying here too?” MJ’s tiny squeak of a voice rang up the stairs, greeting you as you quietly crept down them. 

“MJ,” Pete muttered, shaking his head gently. “C’mon, bud, you know Uncle Carm’s been on a business trip.” 

“Right, yeah.” Carmen nodded, his hand patting Teddy’s back gently, soothing her and him. Just feeling the weight of her back on his chest, it put him at ease. She was bigger now, longer than he remembered, but he tried not to think about that, nose pressing into her soft tufts of hair. 

MJ saw you first, his face falling into a pout. “Aw, does that mean you’re going home?” He whined, looking at you then back at Carmen. “Are you takin’ Anchovy and Teddy?” 

Anchovy skittered towards you, running up the stairs at the mention of his name. He’d been a trooper with MJ and Maggie, both kids enamored with the cat who was less than impressed with them. 

Carmen stiffened at the sight of you, spine rigid, heart skipping and falling in his chest. There was a pause of awkward uncertainty, neither of you sure what to say. “If you’re good,” Sugar stepped in. “Maybe your aunt and uncle will let you play with them a little longer while they go out.” She looked at you, shrugging gently at the suggestion. 

You looked at Carmen, eyes meeting him in a brief, unsure gaze, before nodding. “Yeah, that would be- that would be great, MJ.” You gave a soft smile to the boy. 

Carmen stood, passing Teddy off to Sugar with a quiet muttering of thanks. He met you in the doorway, hand reaching for yours, but stopping himself, pulling back hesitantly. Instead, he held the door open, letting you pass by him first. 

The car smelled like a mix of cleaning supply, masked with car fresheners he’d stuck in the vents. He’d been smoking, more than usual, you were sure of it. He’d gotten down to one a day after Teddy was born, paranoid that he’d give her asthma or a rash or something worse. 

“Um,” Carmen hesitated, his voice shaking in a way that he hadn’t since your first date. “I was… I was thinkin’ we could go somewhere t-to talk?” Carmen’s gaze met yours, lips pressing together, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

You nodded, your hands clasped in your lap, both of you too rigid, too uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You looked down at your nails. “We could go get coffee? Go to the one by the restaurant.” 

Carmen’s heart burned with a dull ache. The coffee shop a block from The Bear had been a staple in your relationship. When you’d first moved in together, to the shitty downtown apartment to be closer to the restaurant, Carmen would go every Sunday. Sometimes he’d pick up, other times you’d come with him, sit in the corner seat side by side in a booth- like the couples you used to roll your eyes at, lovesick. 

Someone was already sitting in that booth when you got there, so you settled for a small two seater in the back, secluded and empty. Carmen brought you your coffee without asking, he knew the order by heart now, etched into his mind permanently. 

“Thank you,” You muttered, accepting the paper cup, your eyes not meeting his, but your hands brushing. You didn’t pull away this time. 

Carmen sat across from you, a dread filled silence falling thick between the two of you. His knee bouncing under the table. “I, uh, I wanna talk first if-if that’s good with you.” Carmen’s eyes lifted under his ball cap, pulled low on his head, curls peaking out. 

You nodded, twisting the paper cup around on the table, too nervous to drink it. Carmen took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. “Take a deep breath before you start. It’s ok to take a second to get your words in order, Carmen. Collect your thoughts.” Dr. Mullins’ words rang through his head. 

“I wanna start by saying that I’m sorry.” Carmen looked at you when he said it, eyes rounding in a pathetically sweet way. “I-I’m sorry and I…I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never- It wasn’t you.” 

You looked down at the table, the familiar heat burning in your nose and throat, a threat of tears already. “Hey,” Carmen said firmly, leaning forward. “C’mon, look at me. Please?” You look at him hesitantly, jaw clenching, trying to keep yourself from crying. 

Carmen held your gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line to keep his own emotions in. “It wasn’t you.” His gaze was intense but soft all at once, holding yours. “It… It was all me. All of it. I-I was overwhelmed, I was stressed, I fucked up, a-and-” Carmen’s voice cracked, breaking at the end, his hand running over his face to try and calm himself. 

You felt your own eyes well with tears, chin ducking closer into yourself, leaning towards him. You wanted to reach out, to grab his hand that rested on the table, squeeze it in comfort like you always did. Instead, you looked at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“And I shouldn’t have said any of that shit because-because none of it was true.” Carmen continued, his voice strained. 

“So why’d you say it then?” You surprised yourself with the firmness in your tone, edging on a snap. 

Carmen blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. His knee bounced faster and faster under the table. He took a second, holding his breath before exhaling, trying to keep the growing tightness in his chest to a minimum. 

“I was stressed. I was tired. I-I was overwhelmed, and… and I was an asshole.” Carmen admitted, but you still didn’t seem convinced. You knew him better than anyone, better than Dr. Mullins, better than even Fak or Richie or Sugar. 

“I… I was hurting. I was hurting an-and I was so fuckin’ angry. I don’t-I don’t even know why I was so angry.” Carmen admitted, nodding slowly, eyes flickering from your gaze to his hands nervously. “I just… I think I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. I just, I don’t know, I wanted someone else to feel like I was, an-and I should have- it was fuckin’ stupid, an-and selfish, and…” 

Your eyes were glassy with tears you tried to hide, blinking a tear that fell down your cheek, wiping it quickly. Carmen’s chest ached, burned with hurt at the sight of you. 

“And I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He looked at you sincerely. “I-I-I never said anything more untrue and fuckin’ stupid in my life.” 

“You…” You took a breath, your voice shaking with emotions. “You really hurt my feelings, Carmen.” You admitted looking at him. He nodded, jaw flexing, neck blossoming with splotches of emotion. 

“I just don’t really understand how-how you didn’t mean to say those things. I mean, clearly you-you’ve thought that before.” Your voice lifted higher and higher, climbing with a cry that threatened to break. “I know you’re saying you didn’t mean those things, and I get that, but my problem is you’ve thought them before-” 

“-No, no, I swear-” 

“-You have, Carmen. Clearly you have. You wouldn’t- You didn’t just come up with that shit out of nowhere.” Your voice was beginning to climb, trying to level it out in the cafe, keeping your composure. You took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, pad of your thumb swiping the corner of your eye to catch a stray tear. “Just… Just don’t lie to me.” 

Carmen pressed his hands together, trying hard to remember his breathing while his mind was racing. Sugar was right, it was uncomfortable, worse than he could have imagined. 

“You’re right,” Carmen admitted with a nod. There was no point in lying, not to you, you always knew better, knew him better. “I-I did, but not-not like that. Not,” Carmen’s breath hitched, chest tight with a wave of anxiety. 

“You know wh-when I was at the restaurant, and I… I would be ready to rip my fuckin’ hair out. Everything was just goin’ to shit, o-or we’d realize there was a critic on the books, or I’d forgot to order some shit, I’d be going fuckin’ crazy, ya know?” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in tumbles of jumbled truth.

 “I’d go to my office for a second, just to-just to take a fuckin’ breath, and… and I’d check my phone and I’d see a text from you.” His heart swelled at the memory. You’d text him updates through the day, knowing he’d seen him when he could. Baby Teddy in her crib, Anchovy in the bassinet, her outfit for the day, nap time- all the moments he missed at work because you wanted him to see. You had considered him. Carmen missed it more than words could describe the past days, checking his phone out of habit, hoping to see a little OOTD with a smiley face and a wrinkly baby Teddy attached- instead, he saw nothing. 

“I’d just… I don’t know. I was sittin’ there, just fuckin’ stressed o-or angry, and then I’d see that and I-I’d feel,” Carmen paused. Gather your thoughts, gather your thoughts. 

“I felt… I just felt weird about it?” Carmen’s brows pinched together, looking at you for help, unsure. Your face fell, his heart lurching with fear. 

“No, no, no, no. Not-Not like that. I- fuck, that’s not what- I love the pictures. Love them. I-I- They’re the only things that get me through the day, it-it’s not that-” Carmen stuttered out, head dropping into his hands in defeat. Way to go, Berzatto. 

“Felt weird?” You repeated, calm, your way of soothing him. Keeping your voice even, steady without any tones he could read into and spiral. It was second nature at this point. “Weird how?” 

“It made me feel like… like I was, I was missin’ out.” Carmen admitted, eyes shining bright and a little wide like they always did when he’d finally admit something. Wide eyed, scared, almost, like he shouldn’t have told the truth. 

“I felt like, I’m at work, an-and you were at home with Teddy, and…and I felt like I was bein’ a shitty dad. Like I was there too much, an-and I’d miss out on her, and then I’d miss you, I’d just…” Carmen threw his hands out lightly, cheeks puffing with a slow, shaky exhale. 

“I was jealous, maybe? Ma-Maybe that’s the word, but I just… I didn’t want to be there, and I know,” He lifted his voice before you could begin to speak. “I know I’m th-the boss, and-and I get that. And it’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re home- I’m glad you’re home, I am, because you’re doin’ so much. You are, an-and I know that, I know. You’re-You’re doin’ the most important job in the fuckin’ world, I mean, you’re keepin’ ou-our baby alive.” 

Carmen laughed humorlessly, a scoff that turned into a sniffle, shaking his head. You sat quietly, listening to his words, taking them in with a slow nod. Carmen looked at you, trying to read you, taking in your expressions. Your shoulders less tense, tired, face neutral but he saw the way your lips twitched, holding back a cry. 

“Just sometimes when-when I’d be in the shit, I’d just want to be home.” Carmen admitted. “I’d want to be home, but… but I knew I couldn’t be. I knew I had to-to take care of things, take care of you an-and Teddy, and I don’t- fuck, I don’t mean it like a bad thing. I like doing it, I mean obviously I fuckin’ do, it’s just- it-it’s a lot sometimes and I get-” 

“-Carm,” You cut off his ramblings, reaching across the table, your hand sliding over the top of his, squeezing it gently. 

Carmen thought his lungs might have given out, his heart too, looking down at your hand in awe. Bolts of electricity shot through his body, tingling at his skin that touched yours with excitement. He’d missed this, missed your touch, missed you. It felt surreal, sitting here, feeling you, seeing you. 

“I’m sorry.” Carmen whispered, turning his hand to hold yours. Hands clammy, fingernails bitten to the quick. His fingers intertwined in yours, holding your hand so tightly your fingers tingles. He held your hand like he was scared to let go, like if he did he might never get to hold your hand again. 

“I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t fair. It..It’s not fair.” Carmen squeezed your hand, shaking his head lightly. “You didn’t… I don’t know how to say how much you mean to me.” Carmen looked at you, eyes glassy, red rimmed with tears that gathered at his water line. 

“I, uh, I-I tried to- Well, Richie’s thera- my therapist told me to, uh, to try an-and write out what I wanted to say to you. Take time and reflect and give it to you, but I, uh, I was up all night because I kept starting over.” Carmen rambled on. 

“Everything I was tryna write it just… it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t do you justice.” Carmen looked up at you, thumb brushing over your knuckle gently. “I felt like it just wasn’t enough. They’re aren’t any words to describe you. To…To describe what you mean to me, an-and how much I love you.” 

You swallowed back a sob, looking into his eyes. An intensity you hadn’t seen since he said his vows, maybe more now. “I-I love you so much, and… and I don’t deserve you. I don’t fucking deserve you.” Carmen choked out, a sob slipping out between his confessions. 

“I-I’m a fuckin’ loser, an-and a psycho, and I-I’m a shitty dad and husband…And I-I’m fucked up, and you-you chose to love me anyways. An-And to marry me, and have a kid with me- start a family with me. And what do I do? I fuck it up, and I don’t deserve you. I never have, an-and I never will.” Carmen rambled, tears sliding down his cheeks freely, leaning towards you, shoulders stuttering with a choking of tears.

“Don’t say that.” You sniffle, shaking your head. “Don’t say that-” 

“-No, it’s true, it’s fuckin’ true-” 

“-No, it isn’t. Carmen, don’t say that.” You reach your free hand out, cupping his cheek across the table, thumb swiping over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. You held him, feeling the heat in his cheeks, he turned into your touch, breath slowing. 

“You’re not a loser. You’re not a psycho. You’re not a bad dad, or-or a bad husband either.” You leaned forwards, closing in the gap between the two of you, the edge of the table digging into your stomach. “You made a mistake-” 

“-No, that’s-that’s- it’s worse than that. It’s so much fuckin’ worse than that. Don’t-” 

“-You made a mistake.” You said, firmer this time, cradling his cheek in your hand. 

Carmen took a breath, squeezing your hand in his, sniffing deep to keep his tears in. “I don’t… I don’t want to be like my parents.” He whispered, eyes rounding in a scared way. “I-I don’t want to fuck up you o-or Teddy or… I just don’t wanna end up like them. I wanna be different.” 

“You’re not gonna end up like them.” You shook your head softly. 

“No, I-I was actin’ just like them.” Carmen muttered. “Yellin’ at you a-and actin’ like a complete fuckin’ lunatic. Just like them, an-and I don’t wanna live like that.” 

“You won’t.” You reassured him gently, whispering across the table. He shook his head in protest. “Carm, listen to me. You’re… You’re not like them, ok?” 

You could feel Carmen start to shake, a trembling through his system that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack. Your eyes scanned over the restaurant, filling up with the mid-afternoon rush. “Come on,” You nodded towards the door, pushing your chair back, hand still in his. “Let’s get some air.” 

Carmen didn’t argue, he wouldn’t- couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your hand in his, squeezing his gently, pulling him towards the car. Carmen pulled the keys out with shaky hands, unlocking the door. He reached for the passenger door, but you pulled the back door open instead, surprising him when you slipped in the backseat, nodding at him to follow you. You squeezed into the middle, Teddy’s car seat pressed to your back, Carmen pressed into your side, shutting the door.

“You’re not like them.” You broke the silence, turning yourself towards him. “You’re not.” 

Carmen leaned his head back against the seat, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You-You don’t have to do this, say that.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.” 

“Carmen, you’re not like your parents.” You reached for his hand again. “The fact that you’re scared to be like them, scared and trying to stop it, that shows me you’re not like them.” 

Carmen’s chest stuttered, a hissing of a cry leaving his lungs. “You made a mistake.” You swallowed, your own heart aching. “But… But that doesn’t mean you’re as a whole a bad person. It just means you made a mistake, and if you learn from it and become better, then it’s ok. It’s a lesson learned.” 

Carmen nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tight like he was trying to keep everything in. “I just…I really fucking miss you.” Carmen admitted through a wobbly voice, eyes still closed. “I-I really miss you, and… and I want you to come home.” 

You shook your head, tears sliding down your cheeks. “I miss you too.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I missed you so much.” 

Carmen turned, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly into him. His nose pressed into the top of your head, breathing in detergent that didn’t smell like what you used at home, shampoo, too. You held onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further and further into you until it felt like your bodies were meshing together, fusing into one. 

Whispered apologies shared through teary, wet sniffles filled the space. Carmen’s nose rubbing against yours, hesitating before he kissed you. You pulled him into you, finally soothing the aching longing that had built in your chest, your lips catching his, the two of you staying unmoving, wanting to feel the other. Clinging to each other, hands grabbing, lips parting, Carmen pressing you against the car seat, hand cradled on the back of your head. 

“I-I understand if you still don’t wanna come home.” Carmen muttered, breath hot over your cheek, nose rubbing against your skin. “But I really fuckin’ miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” You muttered, lips buzzing against his neck, tears hot and trickling onto the collar of his t-shirt. “I-I want to come home.” 

“A-Are you sure?” Carmen’s eyes lit up with hope, though he tried to hide it, the way he always did; too scared to let him get too excited, too hopeful because he always feared it would end. 

“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding gently, balling the back of his shirt between your fingers. 

“Yeah?” Carmen repeated, lips pressing together to keep his cry in, a different one this time. One of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe, like his lungs weren’t constricting and on the brink of collapse. His mind didn’t race and cloud with delirious confusion. No, here and now, holding you, Carmen had clarity. 

The both of you stayed in the back of the car, holding the other, chest to chest until your heartbeat became the same, steady rhythm, matching the others. 

Carmen held your hand on the drive back, pressing wet kisses to your knuckles, trying to wipe his eyes of any tears. “Can’t let Pete see me cryin’ again.” He muttered. “That was a new fuckin’ low.” You had giggled softly, enough to have his heart fluttering. He’d never admit it out loud, not now, anyways, that he was thankful for Pete. How he’d taken care of you, of Teddy, of Anchovy. He’d stuck up for you, even if it was against Carmen, and that meant the world to Carmen. 

Pulling into Sugar and Pete’s house, Carmen shoved the gear shift into park, his hand still in yours, both of you sitting in each other's company for a minute longer. Just a little bit longer the two of you, before you had to face the others. 

“Oh, uh, one more thing.” Carmen’s thumb ran over your knuckles before he let go of your hand for a moment, raising up in the seat to dig into the front pocket of his jeans. 

“I, uh, I brought your rings back.” Carmen’s voice dropped, a shake in his words that matched the shake in his hands, pinching your wedding band and ring in between his fingers. 

You swallowed at the sight, Carmen holding the ring between his fingers, it took you back to years before when he’d proposed. Nearly as nervous as he was now, just as shaky, but for a different reason. 

“You don’t have to put them on or anything. I don’t- I’m not tryna make you do that, it’s your choice, obviously. I just,” Carmen took a breath, looking at you. “I thought you might want them back.” 

You paused for a moment, looking at the rings, the sting of the last time you saw them still burning and aching in your chest, but this time, it wasn’t as crushing. It was more of a dull ache, a tiredness that came with it instead of devastation. 

Reaching out, your fingertips tickled his palms, gathering the two rings in your hand. You looked at them, turning them over in your hands. “Thank you,” You mumbled, looking up at Carmen. He swallowed, giving a nod, trying to mask the hurt that you hadn’t put them back on- you didn’t miss it. 

“Do-” Your voice caught in your throat. “Will you put them back on?” You blinked at him, wide eyed, asking so sweet, Carmen thought his heart might give out entirely. 

You held the rings out towards him. “Will you put them back on for me? Please?” 

Carmen didn’t deserve you. The notion rang loud over and over in his head again, throat burning, welling up with tears. He didn’t deserve you. You were too good, too fuckin’ good for him. 

His hands trembled, holding yours and slipping the rings back onto your ring finger, back to their rightful place. Carmen twisted them, a deep breath of a sob that was threatening to break filling the space. His fingers intertwined with yours, free hand cupping your jaw, pulling you into a kiss over the console. 

Sugar looked out the window, peeking through the blinds. “What’re they doin’ out there?” Pete whispered behind her, like the two of you might hear them. “Do they look happy? Sad? You don’t think it went bad, do you? I mean, Carmen can be-” 

“-Pete,” Sugar snapped with a soft huff. “Look for yourself.” She moved, biting back a small grin. 

Pete slid in her place, pushing the blinds apart, sneakily looking out the side of them. He could see the two of you in the car, Carmen’s hands on the back of your head, holding you while you leaned across the console in a deep, passionate kiss. 

“Well, lookie there.” Pete grinned, letting the blinds fall. “I guess there was a happy ending after all.” 

Sugar rolled her eyes, lips twitching in a small smile. “He still has a lot to make up for. I hope she didn’t let him off the hook too easily.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “But I am glad they made up. I would kill Carmen if he fucked things up with my favorite sister-in-law.” 

Pete let out a small laugh, looking out the window again. “The kids are gonna miss Teddy and Anchovy when they go back. MJ’s gonna be devastated they’re taking them.” Pete muttered, Sugar nodded. 

Pete paused for a moment, looking behind him with a soft frown. “Y’know, this is gonna sound crazy, Nat, but I’ll be kinda glad when Anchovy is gone.” Pete admitted in a hushed tone, like Anchovy might hear him. 

Sugar snorted lightly. “Yeah. Except MJ and Maggie will be begging for a cat of their own. They’ve already started and I told them-” 

“-No, I mean,” Pete turned, watching the orange cat slink around at the top of the stairs, Anchovy glaring down at Pete before disappearing to the guest room. “I don’t think that cat likes me.”

[bookshelf-dust]

change my mind

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

gif by @emziess

word count: 1,876

warnings: swearing, sugar is still pregnant for the sake of this fic, some playful shouting/sibling behavior, clingy and petty carmy, smooching, barely proofread cuz i’m lazy lol

synopsis: carmy takes it personally when you tell him he has separation anxiety. he just wants you to stay with him all the time. since when is that a problem?

a/n: yes, this is absolutely a fic inspired by and named after a one direction song. i’m healing my inner child and this song just never, ever gets old, lemme’ tell you. with my winter break getting closer, i desperately need some clingy carmy.

————

“Natalie!” You practically screech, embracing the woman, arms strong around her shoulders but going easy with how close you bring yourself to her growing belly. She smiles and laughs into your hair. You both sway back and forth, secretly thinking how good it is to be in another sane person's presence. 

Sugar says your name in the sweetest tone, the kind that, even though she’s hugging you, gives away the grin on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been dying to have some girl time, I swear.”

You both turn at the sound of the door slamming shut, as though someone has kicked it closed with their heel. 

Carmy holds a tray of food up above yours and his sisters head. “Good to see you too, Sug. I’m okay with being chopped liver, it’s fine.”

You hear Pete’s voice from behind you. It echoes a little with the windows open, allowing the cool air to seep in. “It’s that girl bond, am I right?” 

Natalie pulls away and covers her hand with her mouth. Carmy snorts, patting Pete on the back. “Yeah, man. Sure is.”

Then he makes eye contact with his sister. “You know, you could’ve just invited one of us, seeing as all I’m good for is dropping off food.”

Sugar’s socked feet pad across the floor, the squishy spheres of gel sticking and unsticking with each step she takes. Her arms come up around Carmen’s neck and she pulls him into a hug before smacking him on the head. 

“What the fuck, dude?”

Nat gives him an extra squeeze and clears her throat, taking on her worst, but best, male voice. “What the fuck, dude? How could you hit me like that?”

He shoves her away, but you catch how gentle it is, considering she is carrying his niece. “I do not sound like that. And why are you wearing fuckin’ hospital socks around the house?”

“Pete suggested they’d be good while I’m pregnant since I’m so clumsy.”

“They’ve worked pretty well so far,” he chimes in, peeking into one of the trays of food you brought. You go over to him and open it fully, whispering that he can go ahead and eat, if he’s ready. To Pete, if you said it’s alright, it’s like nothing else can touch him. 

“I can get you some, Bear,” you say. “All you gotta do is ask, they’re like a dollar at Walmart.”

“Okay, let’s just eat, alright?” He fusses, though there’s that telltale dimple appearing on his face. He drags a tense hand through his hair. 

“Yes, chef.”

You’re in the first year of your masters program, and when you called Carmy a few weeks ago to tell him the dates for your fall break, you both decided you didn’t feel up to a stereotypical Thanksgiving this time around. Spending a day with Natalie and Pete seemed much more appealing than waiting for an inevitable panic attack from Carm and a full-on fight, political or not, from any given Berzatto or uncle on your mother’s side of the family. 

You’ve spent the past three nights in Carmy’s apartment, but you’re heading back to campus tomorrow morning so that you can focus on submitting your finals and tying up any loose ends. You told him ahead of time that you only planned to stay for a few days, knowing yourself and knowing that the longer you let yourself stay, the harder it would be to head back and finish up the fall semester. 

Besides, it would only be a bit longer until you could settle in with him for winter break. 

Nevertheless, Carmy was grumpy. He was trying to hide it from you because of course your decision was logical, but he is a selfish man. If it was up to him, you’d stay with him every day of the year and let him treat you like a princess. 

Each time you catch him frowning, you remind him that you’ll be coming home to him again in a matter of days. There’s a miniature whiteboard on his refrigerator that you found in the dollar section at Target. It was meant to hang on the wall, but you hot glued little circle magnets on the back four corners. Carmy laughs every time he sees it because he’s splashed something on the fridge door and needs to wipe it clean. You took the lone, failing dry-erase marker from the kitchen drawer and doodled a little calendar on it.

You drew two slightly uneven squares for your countdown. Currently each block has a number, but you know he’ll feel better when the left spot loses any number higher than 0. 

All throughout dinner, Carmy’s hand is at the small of your back, your knee, your bicep, the nape of your neck, resting on your wrist so he can feel your pulse. Like he’s afraid you are about to slip out of his grasp, only to be swept away by the current and never seen again. 

Sugar clears her throat, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear and wiping her mouth on a paper napkin. “Someone piss in your cornflakes, Carm?”

He blinks over at her, practically jumping at being noticed. You can see his fingertips glistening with sweat under the fluorescent dining room lights. 

You have a forkful of pasta in your mouth, but you begin to chew with haste, shaking your head to try and redirect the conversation. 

You swallow, “It was me, Nat.”

“What?” she asks, voice raising a tinge. “Are you guys having a fight or something? Oh god, should I have said I was sick tonight?”

Pete coughs, his cheeks red as he fights his body’s urge to choke on the food he’s shoving in his mouth to avoid anything slightly awkward. 

The knees of Carmen’s jeans rub together when he sits back further in the dining chair, the sound of the denim, scratchy and rough, communicating his pouty demeanor as he crosses his arms.

“She’s leaving me,” he deadpans.

Forks clatter across plates. “What the fuck, Carm? Are you serious?” He laughs to himself because that vein is protruding from Natalie’s forehead. You elbow him in the ribs. 

You exhale hard enough that Pete feels it on the other side of the table.

“I am not leaving him. He’s pitching a fit because I’m going back to campus tomorrow so that I can focus on finals.”

Natalie’s eyes swing back and forth between the two of you like she’s watching a tennis match. 

“She thinks I’m a distraction,” Carmy says. 

“No duh,” Sugar laughs. “You’re the ultimate distraction. Hell, you’re made of distractions, what with all that unmedicated ADHD.”

“No duh? What are we, five? Y-you think I’m incapable of supporting my girlfriend’s ambitions because I’m some deranged, like fucking—some koala bear?”

Sugar nods once, affirmatively. 

“Yes.”

Carmy scoffs. 

You throw back the rest of your wine and put out a hand like a cop directing traffic would. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s finish eating, okay? I’ll deal with Carmy’s separation anxiety later tonight.”

He looks at you like he’s been slapped, that crinkle between his brows forming, followed shortly by the appearance of his frown lines. “I do not have separatio—”

“Good garlic bread, huh?” Pete says, crunching loudly. “There fancy butter in this?” 

————

“I can’t believe you think I have separation anxiety!”

“You do have separation anxiety, baby.”

Carmen shrugs off his coat and tosses it at the arm of the couch, but he misses and it slides right off. What a perfect metaphor for his life right now. 

“Just because I’m sad that you’re leaving me?”

“I’m not leaving you, Bear. I’m going to campus so I can ensure I get all my shit done.”

“And you can’t do that here? You already told me you don’t have any in-person finals. You’re submitting everything online, so you don’t have to go back—not really. I must really be a bother, huh?”

He regrets it already, but his petty, pitiful brain quit thinking logically about half an hour ago. 

“Carmen. Anthony. Berzatto.”

He winces. The day Sugar told you his middle name was his last day of peace. He’d had you half-convinced he just didn’t have one because he was the baby and Donna was tired of coming up with names. 

You take his face in your hands, your grip on his cheeks much gentler than the look you’re giving him. 

“Carmen. Listen to me, alright? When I’m here with you, I’m in a state of like, pure bliss. I don’t want to think about my assignments because you make me so content and happy, and you’re so stupidly cute that I just want to look at you all day and I know I won’t be productive because of it.”

Carmy’s eyes flash. His cheek twitches under your thumb where the muscles around his mouth are fighting an involuntary smile. 

His gaze flickers down to your lips when you start grinning as you speak.

“I just want to do really well on my finals, Carm. I’ve worked so hard this semester, and I want to give it my all and finish strong, you know? It’s the fact that I have no self control and would have to pull myself away from you to get work done.”

Carmy blinks at you. “I promise I can keep from distracting you. I’ll even set you up a workspace and bring you lunch or somethin’. So you can do your shit and not be bothered. We could make Richie buy you coffee.”

You laugh. 

“I’m serious,” Carmen continues. “I can be accommodating.”

You take your hands away from his face and step back, setting your fingers against your hips like that’s going to help you think better. He’s already winning you over, but you still want to do all the responsible things. 

There’s a kind of humorous tension in the room. 

Carmy is waiting for you to speak, and you’re trying to pretend like it’s a hard decision to make. If he’s serious about helping you stay focused, there’s no reason you couldn’t just go ahead and stay. 

You inhale, just to make Carmy cringe and brace himself. 

“Baby…if you say you want me to stay, I’ll change my mind.”

“I want you to stay!” Carmy blurts. “Please. I’ll get down on my fuckin’ knees if you really want me to. Stay. I promise I’ll keep out of your hair and help you be productive.” 

You giggle, soft and slow, and it reaches Carmy’s ears, enchanting him like you’re made of some love potion, whatever ingredients you’d need for that sort of thing running through your veins. 

“I’d already pretty much decided on staying right after we left Nat’s.”

Carmy swats you playfully on the hip. “Oh, fuck off! Maybe you should go back, if you’re gonna be so mean to me.” He turns to walk towards the kitchen, glancing at you over his shoulder. 

You move quickly, launching yourself off the floor and landing on his back. He hoists you up, bursts of laughter leaving his throat. 

“You love it when I’m mean to you,” you say, and you press a kiss to the side of his neck, all warm and sickly sweet. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[juuuulez]

mikey is such a cutie patootie!! i imagine that his family all really love you (and maybe pin too much hope on you to ‘save’ him) so at holidays everyone’s just so sweet to you. everyone knows they can joke or make snide comments at mikey, but god forbid anyone goes after you (uncle lee made the mistake of accusing you of drugs too. it’s a good thing donna totaled her car because otherwise lee would be fucked up)

and idk mikey can be so sweet i know he can!! you’re kind of the pete to his sugar in a way

literally agree like he just needs HIS person and he would be so proud to show you off

a berzatto christmas is chaotic but you’ll quickly learn how to handle that energy, knowing it’s just common for them. everyone (or at least most of them) treat you well, and sometimes you’re even enough to diffuse the tensest of situations.

“hey! your hookers here!” uncle lee will shout when you walk through the door, not so much an announcement to mikey as it is to the room, something to gain a reaction. thankfully he isn’t around right now, for that would be the beat-down of the century.

you offer lee a thin smile, knowing by this point not to engage. “merry christmas to you, too.”

the house is warm and alive with energy, everyone you pass throwing a greeting your way. natalie stops you for a hug, her hands smoothing down your dress and making a comment about how nice it looks, but “aren’t you cold, sweetheart? did you drive here? we’ll get you a coat for later, okay?”

on the way to the kitchen, you have to physically evade richie’s hand coming to mess with your hair. it’s been perfectly done up for the occasion and his big hand serves as an obstacle, wanting to ruffle it like usual.

you huff and swat his arm away, ducking quickly through the door and missing the glare it earns him from tiff.

finally, you make it into the kitchen. it’s disorganised and messy, pots overflowing, spoons left on the counter. carmy is trying to reign in the situation, in his own silent way, not wanting to cause any additional tension.

“hey, d.” you greet donna from behind, who was too caught up in whatever to notice your arrival. she turns around with an exasperated noise, both her hands finding your shoulders before moving to your cheeks.

“how are you?” she asks, but is talking before you can get a response in. “i was reading this magazine, and there was this model, and i swear, it looked— hey! hands off!”

whatever tangent donna was on is interrupted as carmy goes to stir a pot, to which she bats his hands away, going on about its contents and how it needs to simmer.

“it smells good in here!” you chirp, a smile on your face as you open the fridge.

“wine,” donna continues, “did you want some wine? here, sweetheart. let me pour you a glass.”

“no, no, i’m okay!” you quickly interject, already having found a cold bottle from the fridge. “beer is good, beer will be fine.”

she makes an offhanded comment about needing to “treat yourself to something nice” and not drinking “cheap garbage.” meanwhile, donna continues pouring the aforementioned glass, only to sip from it herself while she cooks.

you take about three gulps of the beverage before footsteps bring another presence to attention. it’s always easy to hear mikey before seeing him, for he’s often already yelling to you from the other room. this time it’s a call of your name, loud and warm, so you flutter closer to the doorway to meet him.

“hey,” you greet with a smile, hands reaching for the fabric of his sweater while his find your hips. “you look good. like this colour on you.”

“says you,” mikey will quip back. “this fuckin’ dress on you, jesus. tryna’ kill a man, huh?”

it gets a giggle out of you, cheeks flushing red at the blatant compliments despite the others in the room. it was something you were still adjusting to: showing love so casually and shamelessly no matter the circumstances, like it was the only thing that mattered.

“merry christmas, bear.” you coo, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

it earns a squeeze of your hips, mikey moving to kiss back. “merry christmas, baby.”

“can you guys please fuckin’ move.” carmy snaps suddenly.

the peace is again broken, with donna scolding him and going on and on about something you pay no mind to. it onto causes carmy to heat up further, complaining about how you’re both in the way in that usual overwhelmed sense.

mikey doesn’t help, chiming in with his own remark. “oh, is our affection ruining your flow? you know what your problem is, you gotta chill out. it’s christmas, and you’re fuckin’ wound up—”

“okay, okay. we will move. let carmy have his peace.” you interrupt him, trying to save the conversation by giving mikey a little push to usher him out of the kitchen. it works, thankfully, for the second that he spots richie he’s going on again about some other story you’re sure you’ve already heard, but is somehow relevant right now.

[savorycannoli]

Can I talk about sugar for a second? Like all of the berzatto children are tragic and doomed by the narrative in their own right, but nat’s story means so such to me idk if I can even fully talk about it all. We see her relationship with her mom is strained at best, it seems like she’s the least favorite child, maybe BECAUSE of her existence as a woman.

And then we find out that her lifelong nickname is based off of a childhood mistake, her being overeager to help her family literally turned into a lifelong reminder of her fuck up. Is there anything more tragic?? A child wanting love but getting scorn?? And then it makes the flashback scene where she tries to add raisins in season 1 all the more upsetting because why did she add them?

“That’s how mom makes it.” she’s the only one that still follows their mom’s recipe. The reason? Could be anything. But I have no doubt in my mind if she DIDN’T add the raisins if Donna had been around she would’ve been ridiculed even more.

I have such a soft spot in my heart for girls and their complex relationships with their moms and motherhood, and it makes her scene with cicero in the car that much more impactful. When cicero says he would let his kids make more mistakes and not been as careful, i almost started crying. Nat has a nickname from her mistakes and it seems like in her mom’s eyes she’s nothing but mistakes. And then her uncle tells her that she’ll be a good mother and that it’s okay for kids to make mistakes, great, even.

I’m so happy nat is in a place where she’s happy and supported. She has a husband who deeply understands her family and doesn’t judge her for it, even making an effort to try and include Donna. I was kind of meh about pete before season 2, but it solidified for me that he’s so so good for nat and a great character. He is so excited to be a dad, he’s patient and kind with her and her family, and he doesn’t call her sugar.

She’s nat. And she’s allowed to make mistakes.

[cindytoast404]

hatchetfield dashboard simulator

🎧average-theater-enjoyer Follow

whoever got the last tickets to mamma mia i hope you fucking die

☄️harbringeroftheapotheosis Follow

I have good news for you, op!

3,428 notes

🌺cryingonthefloor-deactivated20210424

running for honey queen this year, wish me luck!!!

🛍️ queenb-deactivated20210503

Alright, Liz Cunningham from Clivesdale.

🌻fuck-clivesdale1935 Follow

GUYS OP JUST GOT DRIVEN OUT OF TOWN WHAT LMAO

🪶birdwatcher Follow

To be fair, she was from Clivesdale. Anyway, respect for whoever got rid of her. You’re an icon.

🪻thetheoristsofhatchetfield Follow

oh my god this post is so interesting. there’s doxxing. both original commenters are now missing or dead. did some research and apparently the honey queen pageant winners have kept turning up missing every year. what is going on over there

☁️floatingupabove Follow

that’s just the average beauty pageant experience

6,364 notes

🐽theonewhofeastsinthedark Follow

cannibalism 👍

72,263 notes

📱alicewoodward Follow

does anyone else think we should shut down watcher world? i mean that place has gotta be violating at least 5 different safety rules, right

💜blinky’s-sniggles-deactivated20200104

ihaven’t eaten in a week! ::)

📱alicewoodward Follow

jesus christ don’t you guys have like. a union or something

💜blinky’s-sniggles-deactivated20201004

we would, but then he’d get mad! :::)

📱alicewoodward Follow

god. can someone get these bitches a lawyer

👨‍⚖️garygoldstein-attorney Follow

Hi, Gary Goldstein, Attorney at Law-

📱alicewoodward Follow

does this town really only have one lawyer

73 notes

👁️ watcher-world-official Follow

This is your friendly reminder to tell a Watcher World employee if you see a sniggle acting against the rules. This includes accessing social media of any kind, including tumblr. It is forbidden by the Watchers, and any sniggles caught using it will be reprimanded.

On another note, ticket prices are now 50% cheaper! Stop by for a weekend of fun. You’ll never want to leave!

43,464 notes

🪴emma-the-crabby-barista Follow

some guy just walked into beanies and just ordered a cup of black coffee for once. see this is how it should be. no fancy drinks, make my life easier. tall random stranger i am in love with you

🪴emma-the-crabby-barista Follow

update: we’re dating

264 notes

🖼️ horror-lover Follow

okay but why is wiggly kinda… 😳😳

☁️ floatingupabove Follow

THE DOLL??!???

🍏 uncle-wiley Follow

I literally sold my soul for that bastard and this still threw me for a loop.

🤓pete-has-been-waiting-for-five-fucking-years Follow

Why is there blue in my hot chocolate.

☄️ harbringeroftheapotheosis Follow

i recommend you drink it!!! :)

🤓pete-has-been-waiting-for-five-fucking-years Follow

…Okay.

🤓pete-has-been-waiting-for-five-fucking-years Follow

i feel like singing.

712 notes

[chaos0pikachu]

okay so like be real the most evil and hilarious shit korn did was also one of the best cliffhangers of the show like

porsche is out here trying to find out what happened to his parents leaving his big dick man behind while Kinn and Pete watch Porsche's peach ass drive off with Vegas and Kinn is hearing Olivia Rodrigo's Traitor in his head while Pete is internally going "man I let the worst men taze my balls and eat my ass out" then like Porsche's uncle gets shot in the head john wick style or whatever and other plot stuff happens then porsche shows up at Mr Rogers house like "I know your a fake ass bitch fess up" and Korn is like haha what if I pull a Darth Vader instead and is like "Porsche, I am your Uncle" and Porsche is like FUCKING WHAT??? and the audience is like FUCKING QUEEEE??? and THAT'S HOW THE EPISODE ENDED for a whole ass week everyone was like lol they wouldn't....right? and they didn't but Korn really let Porsche believe he was fucking his own cousin all over the twunk mafia mansion making the cleaning staff work overtime every god damn day for months for an entire ass minute only to go "LOL JK she was my foster sister" and then the following week you find out he kept her ass in the attic for two decades flowers in the attic style

top-fucking-tier show

[needforspeed161]

Just seen this on TikTok and- AHHHH IM CRYING ABOUT THESE OLD GAY PILOTS AGAIN. So I wrote a quick little Drabble!

“Maverick”

The brunette turned, setting down a grease covered wrench as he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

Ducking below the wing of his beloved P-51 he’d been busting his ass to work on.

“Who is it dad?” Bradley’s head poked around the opposite side of the plane as he fixed his mustache.

“Tom-….what’r…..” the shorter man was interrupted by a pair of arms coming out to hug him tightly. As soft sobs were left in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Hey Tom….its okay, what’s going on?”

“Uncle Ice?” Bradley cocked his head, concerned bubbling in his stomach as he seen the picture laid out before him.

“Hey baby bird, could you grab your uncle some water? He’s gonna need it” Mav asked, and so Bradley was off, heading into the trailer parked inside the hangar that Maverick called home.

“Cmon Tommy, talk to me” he muttered, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry….I’m sorry I wasted so much time, I feel so stupid!” Ice spit out, coughing into his elbow before meeting his wingman’s eyes.

“Ice whatr you-“

“What kind of a fool was I…..”

“A-a fool? Cmon don’t talk like that you’re-“

Ices eyes, blue and true as the ocean laid out before them so many times before….locked onto Mavericks green ones, like the horizon line between sea and land meeting as their carrier approached home.

“What kind of a fool was I, to have married her, and not waited for you” the blondes hands came up to cradle the shorter pilots face. Thumbs brushing away newly formed tears on the others part now.

“I-I don’t understand” Maverick was crying now, holding onto Ices wrists with gentle hands.

“Maybe this will enlighten you, you beautiful idiot”

Through two sets of tears their lips finally met. Waves crashed against a grassy shoreline, they were home….

Mavericks arms slung around the back of Ices shoulders. Slotting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. As tears continued to fall from both sets of eyes.

“I gave up on the idea of you ever wanting me…” Maverick whispered, resting his forehead against the blondes.

“Pete….sweetheart, I always wanted you….I was just so fucking scared….I didn’t know how to show it, so I decided to be the best wingman and friend you could have ever asked for. Because it’s all I knew how to do….its all I was ever allowed to be….”

“I understand…..it’s okay”

“It’s not….I wasted so much time Pete….so many of our years….”

“You didn’t”

Maverick wiped away Ices tears, smiling up at him with that huge dopey grin that the blonde came to know and love over the years.

“Even though I couldn’t kiss you, or hold you for as long as I wanted, or tell you I loved you….I got to see your eyes light up when I made a stupid joke, I got to see you shake your head when Goose and I would do something incredibly stupid. I got to sit out on the tarmac with you under the stars for hours and talk about everything and nothing. I got to be right by your side on dangerous missions. I got to fly through the pink and orange sky above the sea with you. I got to be the first person waiting for you on shore when we couldn’t go together and vice versa….we’ve been inseparable since….i mean if you really think about it we’ve basically been an old married couple since the 80’s”

They both chuckled, Ice running his hands through Mavericks dark hair. “This is true….but I still don’t want to waste another second not being able to kiss you…or hold you, or tell you just how much you mean to me….and how much I both love and hate those cowboy boots”

“Hey cmon now” Mav faked a wince. “The boots are golden and you know it!”

“Hangman owes me 20 bucks” Bradley interrupted, holding a bottle of water, leaning up against a toolbox as both men stared at him.

“You placed a bet about my love life?” The darker haired man questioned as they both approached him. Ice grabbing the bottle of water.

“I knew it all along….I do have eyes yknow? And you two weren’t exactly discreet.” Bradley snickered, fixing his own hair. “Hangman said it could never happen, I told him I wouldn’t be

Surprised if the whole Sarah thing was just a lavender marriage”

“So you and hangman are on talking terms now?” Ice spoke this time, resting his hand on the small of Mavericks back as he drank some water.

Bradley’s cheeks turned pink for a moment and his eyes fell down to his feet. “Well….you could say that….”

“And now you owe me 20 bucks darling” the older blonde placed a small kiss on Mavericks cheek.

Bradley froze. “Wait what?! You two placed a bet on MY love life?”

“To be fair I thought you two hated eachother” Mav chimed in, flipping his wallet open and handing the spoils to the victor.

“To be fair, everyone thought we hated eachother”

“This is true”

Bradley’s jaw was about to the floor as the two men before him discussed the topic amongst themselves. Beginning to walk towards the plane and past a very confused Bradley.

“Welp baby goose, it looks like the apple don’t fall far”

“Dad, I love you, but we’re not even biologically related….HOW CAN THE APPLE- yknow what…Nevermind”

Ice let out a small laugh. “Hope you don’t mind seeing more of me these days kiddo” wrapping an arm around Bradley’s neck as smiles painted on everyone’s face.

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Cthulhu AU] A couple of doodles from session two, which UNSETTLED SAMMY A LOT ACTUALLY...

There have been small changes, throughout New York -- doors opening on the wrong side of the street, houses ending up just a block away from where you remembered them -- but the only people who can even tell seem to be those who remember Carcosa. Joey, Sammy, Henry, Jack, Peter, and Norman all experienced the strange shifting realm when a Mardi Gras party attempted to bring dread Carcosa to New Orleans, but Susie wasn't there. She can't see the changes we see, and the entire rest of the city agrees with her. That door was always there? The car was always that colour. That's where I remember the address being before, and there's no record it was ever different.

She trusts what the boys are reporting must be true, that maybe there are changes she can't see or remember, and both she and Sammy are terrified. These are only little things, but as more and more of the city slips into the world of the King in Yellow, what else might be rewritten...?

Anyway EVERYONE'S HAVING A GREAT TIME. If you're here for Out Of Context Quotes from our session, I have some of those too, here, under the cut!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] I love how detective Pete is for a guy who is NOT a detective. [Sammy] He just got assigned that by Joey Drew and now it's true. [Joey] Exactly! That's how it works.

[Sammy] The idea of JDS having its own employed detective is really funny to me. "Why do you need that? You're an animation studio." "Well, you know, things come up,"

[GM] Everybody went home I believe, except Joey went to the Studio, which is like home,

[Sammy] Do we have any plan, other than just go in to work, [Jack] I though you were gonna say "other than go insane"...

[Joey] If Prophet's not the one going for the ink, then why is Sammy going for it?! Do they have a SECOND prophet situation??? [Jack] PROPHET...... TWO!!! [Henry] Prophet 2: Electric Boogaloo [Sammy] *tiredly* We don't need any more Prophets..... We don't need any more Sammys..... we have enough.....

[Jack] You just need to sip some ink and tell them it's the wrong number. Like, you've got the wrong guy. [Henry] New stone, who dis?

[Sammy] It was the false king who called through the ink, not our Lord! [Joey] Interesting... [Joey] Joey's going to ask Bendy if he can... feel this? Is he getting calls? *dad voice* Is someone calling you? Don't put your number on the internet!

[GM] Bendy says he wasn't made to be a receiver the same way Sammy was. [Jack] So technically, it's "New Sam, who dis"!

[Joey] Okay, Joey's going to note this all down in his... Notebook Of Nonsense That Plagues Them,

[GM] I'm choosing to believe that whenever Norman called in, he gave some sort of outlandish excuse, and whoever answered the phone didn't... write it down... [Sammy] Like the heckin', grian excuses-- [Joey] "I'm cutting my grass, with scissors" [Jack] Yeah!! He's cutting his grass! With scissors! In winter!!! [Sammy] And then Sammy's like "Do we know why he called out?" and the receptionist is just like "No We Have NO Idea" [Jack] With the most tired sigh. Second only to Grant.

[GM] Fun fact, Norman would answer the phone. [Sammy] Norman actually was just like, "ohhhhhhh i know THIS is some supernatural bullshit happening, I'm gonna stay home"

[Joey] Joey's going to ask Estelle if he looked like-- and give a vague description of Avedon. [GM] .............................. [GM] She is SO impressed that you knew this. [Joey] *delighted cackling*

[Jack] I love how cute Joey is about this kid. Just like... the cool Bendy Uncle! He's not related at all, but, [Joey] I feel like this is kind of how Joey just gets around kids? Maybe Joey does really want kids, just, y'know, doesn't know how to do it when gay? [Sammy] Obviously that won't happen, so-- [Joey] Yeah, [Sammy] --so then you START AN ANIMATION STUDIO, that's the only other option! [GM] Yeah, then all kids are your kids!

[GM] Alright, you've made many phone calls. [Joey] Yeah, [GM] And you only rudely hung up on one of them!

[Sammy] Sammy can surely track that down; he's used to digging up musicians. [Jack] Jack's there to assist with the Talking to People in a way that makes them want to cooperate with you, and not run in fear!

[GM, speaking for Peter] *lists all of the information Peter's dug up* And that's about what he managed to get, today! [Joey] And nothing weird has been happening... to him? [GM] WELL, OKAY. ABOUT THAT,

[Peter] Could you describe again, the strange person who was at the party? What was that guy like? [Joey] *thinking very hard* Which... strange person...? I mean... Denis was there?

[Norman] Try not to fall in a swamp this time. [Joey] I'll let you know if I find one! [Sammy] There's fewer of those in New York, so, I think we're good. [Jack] I mean, you never know,, [Sammy] ...yeah, that's true..... [Joey] HEY, Joey will let him know if he finds one!!! [Sammy] If LAKE PONCHARTRAIN opens up in the MIDDLE OF NEW YORK CITY, that will certainly be something to let all of our friends know!

[GM] Make a social-type checks to have a word with them beforehand! [Sammy] I don't know, if I should do that,,, [GM] SAMMY can make an Appearance check! [Sammy] *laughing* LETS SEE IF IM HANDSOME ENOUGH to get let in!

[GM] Everybody's like "You guys!" You're greeted with nostalgia, and eagerness! and people are trying to small talk you, I'm guessing Sammy's not going for that. [Sammy] I mean, you can try to small talk.... AT him... [Sammy] He doesn't... y'know... it's like playing a game of catch where you throw the ball to somebody, and they just hold the ball. [Sammy] Like.... okay! [GM] I did the thing! [Sammy] Cool, catch successful. [Jack] No give, only throw!

[Sammy] Look, I was trying to drink ink this morning, so I feel like this is a step up.

[Sammy] Sammy will enjoy it! We should do this more often! [Sammy] "We should do this more often" says man who will always be too busy to do this more often,

[GM] They're impressed that, at a job where there was a gunshot right in front of the stage, the thing you want to ask about is where they sourced their music. [Sammy] I LOVE that Sammy's reputation is such that this makes perfect sense to them.

[GM] His name is Alan Leroy. [Sammy] Okay, Leroy works, because then I'll remember it, because of Leroy Jenkins. [GM] This is what's been going through my head the entire time, too...

[GM] They say he's a crazy-talented musician who blew into town a year or two ago? He's really nice and easy to get along with, and when he really gets going he can make sounds come out of his instrument like you've never heard! [Sammy] These... are all.. compliments that would be really impressive except that they can all be interpreted in really concerning ways.......

[GM] If Jack wants to look harder, he can.......... [Jack] I'm doing it, Jack can make little a bad decision! He hasn't made any yet this season!! [Jack] *rolls* That's an extreme success. How much sanity do I lose!!

[Henry] We're ghost hunters. The, the pale guy is a ghost, we're goin' after him. Ghost hunters. [Henry] ...This is why you don't let Henry lead the conversation!!

[Jack] It's occurring to me that we don't know if this guy is alive??? [Joey] YUP! This is a good time to find out! [Henry] Fun! [GM] When have you EVER gone up to somebody's house and found them dead inside? [Jack] Jack hasn't yet... [Henry] The very first scenario! [Sammy] Yeah it was a pretty bad situation as I recall, we were briefly accused of being involved! [Jack] Maybe you guys. Jack's different, though.

[Joey] We wanted to make sure he was doing alright. .....does that need a Fast Talk roll? [GM] Yeah, I was about to say-- [Joey] *rolls* *STARTS CACKLING* [GM] What did you do, do you roll a three again? [Joey] I DID ROLL A THREE! :D THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I ROLLED! [GM] I thought it was the Three Laugh!

[Henry] Henry is tired. Henry rolled a 93. [GM] Well he's out late, you know, he's a family man! He has normal hours, he hasn't been staying up late, living at the studio for the last few years! [Henry] He's regretting not accepting Joey's offer to just go home. [Joey] *muttering* See, Joey knows best!

[GM] Okay, so you guys notice, right off, that the car isn't there. [Sammy] UM. HM. [Jack] Which car did we take again? [Joey] The Mercedes... [Jack] *relieved* Okay good. [Jack] .... I MEAN, NOT GOOD, BUT...

[Joey] No, no I think it's OUR car... it's just... more yellow now... [Jack] I don't like that that means it's getting yellower... [Joey] ...........................So when do we take the sanity hit? [GM] Yeah, that would be now!

[GM] The woman says she's looking forward to when he has his own ship, and they can sail away together! [Henry] [Henry] ...I'm married,...

[Joey] Joey has his face pressed to the window-- no, he probably has the window down, it doesn't matter how cold it is -- and... CAN the window go down? Hold on. [Joey] *sounds of typing* "Car... door... window... down... history... when."

[Henry] Okay, these dice are BANNED. I rolled a 90! [Jack] What if you subtly replace the dice...? [Sammy] With slighty yellower dice!

[Joey] OKAY! There ARE rolling windows, so Joey does have the window rolled down, and he's intensely watching the colour of the car. [Joey] AND ALSO, he's STILL sitting in the middle seat, he's just going to lean over someone to do this. [Sammy] Ah. It's probably me.

[Jack] No, no, Pete and Jack can get kidnapped later and take some massive sanity damage together. ✨Cute date ideas!✨

[Joey] Joey's going to inform Norman that they're going to come over, they need additional eyes on something, [GM] Well, he's good at keeping eyes on things! [Joey] So they'll be over soon. [Sammy] I like how Norman gets a heads up, but with Peter we just show up at his apartment. [Joey] Exactly! [Jack] That's because Joey's kissed Pete. When Joey and Norman kiss then that's -- not good for Sammy, probably. [GM] At least Pete and Sammy are neutral. Non-reactive. [Sammy] Norman and Sammy are "it's complicated" on Facebook.

[Sammy] Okay, we gotta go get Linda, so Susie's not alone, [Jack] We're just playing "how many NPCs can we force Thren to play at once!" How many can we shove in the back of this car.

[Jack] Jack's gonna get home and find out his cats are different colours, [Sammy] Oh NO, [Jack] Comes back and Beans is a tortie now. [Sammy] Or Beans is just an orange cat, [Jack] Oh no! Her braincells! [GM] She needs those! She has all of them!!

[Joey] Depending on who's the affected party, Susie or them, it is actually useful to have a second, like, [Sammy] Someone to compare with? Yeah. [Henry] We don't know WHO the control group is, but ONE of us is the control group!

[Joey] As trusted as Norman is, he isn't one of Joey's... white-knuckle-clutched-keepsakes of a person,

[Sammy] *sarcastic* Okay, everyone ready to go to sleep? That's not a scary prospect right now, right? That's something that we're all really confident about doing? Cool, that's great. [Henry] Yeah, yeah, that's definitely not gonna, it's gonna go great...! [GM] Nobody's even cut their hand on a slick stone! It's fine! [Henry] NO ONE BETTER CUT THEIR HAND ON A SLICK STONE! We got enough problems!! [Joey] (Looking at you, Prophet!)

[Henry] Is Joey,,, sharing this plan with anyone? [Joey] ouo Has anyone asked him?

[Joey] Let's send Henry then! [Henry] Alright. Send Henry to Carcosa! [Sammy] *exasperated* yeah that's fine.... [Joey] It's not FULLY sending him there! It's just making a connection. [Joey] A little bridge! [Sammy] Uggghhhh... Sammy doesn't think we need any bridges to Carcosa. [Sammy] We've got enough Carcosa. [Sammy] Put some back.

[Sammy] This is what happens When You Give a Joey a Dream Spell.

[Sammy] We can't actually guarantee that New York isn't going to sink. That's not out of the question. [Jack] Is the Joey Drew specialty NOT "promising things that aren't necessarily things you can promise??"

[Henry] Actually, before Henry leaves he's going to give Joey a hug. [Joey] He doesn't get to leave. [Henry] Oh. [Joey] But Joey will take the hug!

[Henry] You know this man gives good hugs. You're getting a good Henry hug. [Jack] Gonna crunch all of Joey's terrible, very bad bones. [Henry] He's gonnna try not to crunch all of Joey's terrible bones! [Henry] But, I dunno. [Henry] Roll for damage.

[GM] The lurker knows this is serious, but he's also excited, because he has heard what a slumber party is from Henry's kids.

[GM] Now it is Friday, the 28th of December. [Sammy] Okay. Cool. Let's all make an effort to not ring in the New Year in Carcosa. That's MY New Year's Resolution: Don't Be In Carcosa.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

feelings {peter parker tasm}

plot: you and peter have been friends since you were both knee height, now that you're both mid twenties you're busy navigating life and also the fact that you're both hopelessly in love with the other.

character: peter parker (tasm) x reader

requested by anon

Aunt May had always had her hopes for the two of you. She could see it coming from a mile away, honestly. She had raised Peter and had practically helped to raise you too since you were always over at the Parkers' house from when you could talk. She watched as you and Peter's friendship blossomed, watched as you helped each other through school, dealing with bullies and crushes and exams. She watched as Peter got and lost his first girlfriend and watched as you supported him through the loss of Gwen. He was there after your first relationship ended in turmoil and tears. She watched as you both got jobs and got places in college, both busy and yet both still making the effort to see each other. She watched as neither of you realised but you both started to fall in love. She had always known that there was something there.

She had tried to tell Peter just to help guide him to you when he was seventeen but Uncle Ben had told her to stop meddling in their nephew's life. "He'll figure it out in his own time, May. They'll realise soon enough." So Aunt May dropped it and continued to watch from the side-lines with a secret smile every time she saw the two of you.

Peter's leg was tapping away as he worked, he could never sit still, "You good, Parker?" You asked him. You were both busy with essays for your separate college courses but you always liked to work together. Ever since you were little you liked doing homework and the likes together. There was something about his presence, it calmed you and helped you focus.

Peter rubbed at his eyes tiredly, the stubble from neglecting to shave for the last few days was a feature you quite liked about him. Hope he keeps that beard, grows it out a bit more maybe. You frowned when you caught yourself thinking it, okay weird. He was your friend - your best friend - nothing more, nothing less. "I'm fine," Peter sighed, breaking you out of your thoughts, "hungry though... Wanna go for lunch?"

You laughed, "Think you mean dinner?" You teased, showing him the time on your phone, "We've been at this for hours."

"Shit, really? Wow... I better give Aunt May a call, let her know I'm okay. You know how she worries."

"Can you ask if I can come for dinner-"

"You're coming." Peter said, deadpan, as he called her, "Hey Aunt May, it's me. Me and (y/n) have been studying and doing essays since 11am and now it's nearly 5pm!" Peter's face scrunched, "What? No. We were writing essays - just writing essays."

You packed your bag as he finished his conversation, "She must've had a drink of something strong," Peter said as he hung up the phone, "She was convinced that we weren't studying. She kept hinting that we were doing something else like making out or something like that! Insane, right?!" Peter's laughter was loud and you didn't know why that hurt so much. Is it so awful to even think? Am I that unappealing to you? You forced a laugh as these thoughts spun through your head, "I mean, that's insane, right?"

"Absolutely." You nodded, smile falling as you grabbed your bags. Why did you care so much? You had no idea. You didn't know why you were so hurt by his comments. Peter was your friend, that was all... right? Surely there wasn't anything else there, right? Right? You cleared your throat, "Uh, you know, I actually forgot I have plans to get dinner with my family today, Pete." It was a lie and Peter could tell. He always could tell, he didn't need enhanced senses to know when you were lying.

"Oh," he frowned, "Are you okay?"

You nodded quickly, "Fine, yeah. I gotta go though, I'll see you later. Give May a hug from me." Quickly you darted out of the library before he could ask you anything else. Peter watched you go, confused and a little hurt. You had lied to him and that upset him more than anything. Why were you lying to him? Had he hurt your feelings? Peter didn't know but he was going to figure it out.

You had been avoiding Peter a little bit for the rest of the day. You were just trying to clear your head. You'd come to the realisation that you liked him... a lot. You didn't know when the feelings started or why today you were realising it but you realised as you couldn't stop thinking about him. You couldn't get Peter and his dumb laugh and stupid haircut out of your head.

Peter had been calling and texting you for the last few hours and was barely getting a response so he knew where you'd be. He knew that when you got upset and things got overwhelming, you'd be on your apartment buildings roof watching as the sun set. You knew that he'd find you, you didn't mind, you knew that sooner or later this conversation would have to happen.

He found you in your usual spot, sitting with a blanket and some coffee, "Hey," he said quietly, offering you a smile and extending his hand to show you his peace offering, "god you a donut from Sal's that you love..."

With a smile and a 'thanks', you took the donut from him and began to eat it. He sat beside you, stretching his legs out and dropping his bag to the side, "I think we need to talk," he said after a few moments.

You nodded as you finished your donut, "Yeah," you said, clearing your throat, "yeah we do."

"Look, I don't know what I did earlier but I'm sorry-"

You didn't know where the sudden burst of anger came from but the words were being yelled from your mouth before you could even realise, "Is the thought of being with me so repulsive?!"

Peter jumped back, taken aback, "Wh- What?!"

"Earlier!" You snapped, jumping up making him stand up too, "You thought it was hilarious and insane when May suggested we be together! Here I am realising that I care about you and you say shit like that- Shit." You slammed your hand over your mouth, whirling away from him as your heart hammered hard in your chest. You hadn't mean to explode like this but he'd really upset you earlier and you just couldn't keep it in.

"Are you saying that you've got feelings for me?" Peter asked, voice soft and gentle; calm despite his racing heart and despite your previous tone, "(y/n), speak to me."

"I-I-I don't know!" You wailed, head in your hands, "I don't know! I- I think so? I mean, I've just been feeling stuff that I never normally feel and I look at you and I get literal butterflies. I thought that shit was made up in Disney movies but I find myself smiling when you say my name, I feel excited when you smile at me... Yeah," you laughed incredulously, "I'm saying I've got feelings for you."

Peter was silent for a few seconds as he took in all of what you just said and then he said the most heart-breaking thing he could've said, "Oh."

And there it was. Peter's reaction. Oh. Your heart sank. Of course he didn't feel the same, of course he didn't. Why would he? The two of you were best friends so of course he didn't see you like that and now it was all fucked. You had just ruined your two decades long friendship over developing feelings for him. If you hadn't told him, if you'd have just shut up and kept quiet then you wouldn't have fucked everything up; things would be normal and you'd both be happy.

You pulled back immediately, putting your walls back up to save yourself any further embarrassment or upset, "I'm sorry, uh, never mind! Ignore everything I just said, it was a joke! Ha! Got you..." You gave a pathetic attempt laugh as tears burned at your eyes, "It was all just a joke!" Peter seemed to come back to reality as he saw you were getting upset. He said your name but you were shaking your head telling him to forget it, it was all a big joke, a laugh, it was fine. Peter knew that it wasn't a joke, he knew that what you'd said was real and he felt awful about upsetting you.

"(y/n), stop," he said loudly, cutting you off of your 'it was just a joke' ramblings, "I'm sorry for saying 'oh' I was surprised that's all! It wasn't a negative reaction or me rejecting you."

You looked at him, cheeks burning and tears slowly making their way down your cheeks, "Then what does it mean?"

"It means... holy shit, I can't believe you have feelings for me. I never thought you'd see me like that!" He grinned widely, "I've had a massive crush on you for forever."

Your jaw dropped. He had a crush on you? "Then why'd you say oh you stupid oaf!" You hissed but the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

"I-I was surprised! I never thought you'd ever like me back!"

"Of course I do," you said, "Pete, you've always been there for me. Always been so kind and you're so funny and... I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

He smiled at you, "I didn't think you'd ever feel the same... You're way outta my league, you always have been." He sat on the stone wall, patting it so you'd sit next to him, "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

You laughed, "You could say that again."

Silence fell and all of a sudden you were fifteen again crying into Peter's arms after your first boyfriend broke up with you for someone else. Then you were six and fake marrying Peter whilst Aunt May shook her head laughing. Then you were twenty getting into college and celebrating, ending up hungover and crashing at Peter's apartment for a night. Then you were eighteen finding out that he was Spider-Man and fainting from the shock of it.

He nudged you, breaking you out of your thoughts, "So what do we do now?" He asked quietly.

You shrugged, "I guess you take me out on a date," you suggested with a smile, "that little Italian place downtown. The one with the garlic twists."

"A date?" Peter smiled, "I can do that."

You looked at him, turning your body to face him, as his brown eyes caught the sun. You'd always known that he was handsome but my god, it was like you were seeing him in such a different light. The way his eyes looked like dark honey in the sunlight, the way his lips quirked upwards, the way the wind tousled his hair to perfection.

Peter couldn't take his eyes from your face. "God, you're so beautiful," he murmured quietly, eyes going between your eyes and your lips, "Can I-"

You cut him off by pulling him to meet your lips. It didn't feel weird. It didn't feel unnatural or anything like that... It felt... normal; right. It felt good. It was a simple kiss, only lasting a few seconds, but it was the best kiss you'd ever had. It was so full of emotion, so gentle and sweet and soft and you just melted into his embrace.

When you pulled away, neither of you could keep the stupid lovesick grins from your faces, "Aunt May is going to have a field day with this one," Peter laughed softly, "she's been trying to get us together for years."

[watsittoyah]

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some talks of suicide..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 5- The Skeletons In His Closet..

“Everything needs to be perfect. Erica do you have the ice?”

“I’ve got the ice.” You check that off the list. “Jerry, do you have the paper plates?”

“I got paper plates, and I got napkin.” You check those off the list. “Monica-”

“I have the baked Mac and cheese and I have the hot links.” You check those off of the list and you look at your friends. “As you all know, this is the annual Valentine family reunion. I invited you all because my grandparents adore you. Now, we need to make a signal so if any family member catches us off guard the others can swoop in and save the day. Any suggestions?”

“Oh! We can fake a yawn.” Jerry suggests. But Monica shakes her head. “No can do, we did that last year and Great Aunt Ethel made Erica sit on the bench with her so she could rest it out.”

“Ear tug.” Erica says. “Yes! That’s perfect. Alright let’s get the stuff in the car.” As your friends heads out of the apartment you stay back and call Miguel for the tenth time. It goes to voicemail which doesn’t surprise you. He’s been late to a lot of functions lately.

“This is Miguel leave a message.” It beeps and you pace the apartment. “Baby, we’re leaving the apartment. I was hoping you’d be here so I can prep you but obviously you’re not answering. The cookout is at my grandparents. I’m sure you remember the address. Just please don’t be too late, a lot of my family wants to meet you, okay? Lo-later.” You hang up and tell Milo to be good…

When you park the car, you see balloons all tied up on the front porch. “Remember the plan, we stay for a few hours and if any of us need saving, tug an ear.” You all get out of the car and start to unload the stuff.

Erica pulls you to the side and whispers to you. “Where’s Miguel?” You huff and shrug. “I don’t know, but if he is late he is going to get an earful.” You say as you tie your headscarf tighter.

“Is that little Tommie?” You turn and put on a fake smile as you see your Auntie Vivian. “Hey Auntie.” You lean over and give her a hug. “Girl look at you! Looking like a little African queen. And these hips! Lord have mercy I know these boys go crazy over you.” You feel awkward and clear your throat. “Auntie, you remember my friends right?”

“Of course I do. Hey guys.”

“Hey.” They say in unison. “Auntie where can we put the ice and food?” You ask. “In the kitchen. Now don’t stay in there. If you do they’re gonna make you help with the fish fry. And it’s already hot with all these black folks.” You all laugh and start bringing the stuff inside.

“Hello.” You call out as you walk into the house. “Tommie! Is that you! Come here let me get a good look at you!” Your Auntie Bonnie calls out as she dries her upper lip with a napkin.

“We’ll put this up.” Jerry whispers to you as they walk past. “Baby go and put that ice in the cooler out back.”

You walk over to your Auntie Bonnie and she looks you over. “Girl you look like me back in the day. I swear I had about six boyfriends and three men trying to marry me when I was your age.” You laugh at that and she gives you a hug. “How you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Really.” You lie. “Mhm, if you want to lie, lie to your boss not to me. But I won’t push, now where is this man, Barbra was telling us about.”

“Miguel will be here soon. He’s just running a little late.”

“Tommie, come here and help me with this fish.” Your Auntie Meryl calls out. “Oh! Uncle Pete said he needs help with the grill I’ll be back.” You run outside and see Erica and Monica over by the drinks.

“Where’s Jerry?” You ask sitting down taking a bottle of water from the cooler. “Your cousins snatched him up so he’s playing double Dutch with them.” Monica points across the yard and sure enough Jerry was turning the ropes with one of your little cousins.

“TT!” You feel a pat to your thigh and you turn to see your baby cousin, Oliver. “Hi baby!” You pick him up and give him a great big hug. He holds your face and leans his head on your shoulder.

You sit there with him in your arms and hear his mother calling him. “Oh, I should’ve know you’d be with Tommie. He isn’t causing you any trouble is he?”

“Not at all, right Ollie?” He just sits there holding your face. “Ollie, do you want to show your big cousin your new toy?” Vanessa asks him. He nods and he jumps off of your lap and goes running. “Ollie no running you’ll hurt yourself. That boy is going to keep me young running after him. How y’all been?”

“Good.” You say wondering where Miguel was.

“I’ve been alright, but you know where the harder stuff at?” Monica asks. “Go to Uncle Pete, he got some mikes hard lemonade in his cooler.”

“Say less.” Monica leaves and Erica follows. “You want one?” You shake your head as they walk off. “How’s Ollie been adjusting?” You ask Vanessa. “He’s been doing great. He still doesn’t talk much but he likes his new school.”

“That’s good. Maybe I can see if there are any more grants you can apply to for him.” She nods and Ollie comes running back. “TT!”

“Look at that! It’s a dinosaur! Do you know what sound a dinosaur makes?”

“Roof!” You shake your head. “No that’s a dog. A dinosaur…roars. Like this, ROAR!” You tickle him and he laughs. “TT!” He tugs you along and you follow him. He points to the hula hoop and you pick it up. You show him how to hula hoop but he doesn’t get it. Which was fine because you just wanted him to have fun.

After playing with Oliver for fifteen minutes he was passed out in your arms. You bring him to his mother and she takes him inside to sleep on the bed with the other babies and toddlers.

You decide to make yourself a plate and you get in line. “Tommie, when are you gonna get married?” Your little loud mouth cousin, Tiffany asks. “When you stop minding my business and mind your own.”

“Oop, not too much.” You roll your eyes but laugh together as you make your plate. You get a few things on your plate and you’re about to reach for some chicken when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Hola, mi amor.” You smile from ear to ear as you turn to Miguel. “Hello to you to-what happened to your eye?” Your boyfriend had a big black eye and you were concerned. “Nothing, it’s just a small bump on my face.”

“Small bump? Miguel it’s looks like some one put their whole fist in your face!” You snap at him. “Geez! What happens to you?” Tiffany asks. You ignore her and grab Miguel’s hand, dragging him into the house.

“It’s nothing really.” He tries to tell you. “Nothing my ass. Sit here and let me get you an ice pack.” You go into the fridge and take out one, then you grab a dish cloth. You wrap the ice pack and you place it on Miguel’s eye. He winces in pain and you cross your arms over your chest.

“I know you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, concerned yes. I’m curious as well. How is it that my boyfriend came here with a black eye? What happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a door?” He says with a smirk. “Now is not the time to joke, Mr O’Hara!” You glance over and see your Aunties were pretending not to listen. “Come with me.” You drag him to the side porch and close the door behind the two of you.

“Miguel, how?” He sighs and moves the ice pack. “I got into a little fight, it’s no big deal. Honestly the other guy looks worse.” You sigh because there isn’t anything you can do. He is here and that is what you had wanted. “Is that why you’re late?”

“Y..yes. Amor, I am sorry. Let’s go back out there and you can introduce me to your family.” The hesitation in his answer doesn’t go unnoticed but you let it slide for now.

“Right, well I hope you’re hungry because there is a lot of food and there’s a lot of people who want to meet you.” You cup his face in your hands and you kiss his bruised eye. “I promise you Miguel you better had beat them to a bloody pulp for giving you this black eye.”

“You know I did.” He says with a smirk. You lead him back to where your family is and you make him a plate.

••••

After watching Miguel interact with your family for a few hours you felt relaxed. “Baby cakes, come help me with this pan.” You head into the kitchen with your grandmother and she lifts up a pan for you to bring outside.

“No one is gonna take him from you, you don’t have to stare too hard.” Your grandmother teases. “It’s just, he seems so relaxed like he’s met them before.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Miguel just fits in with the rest of them. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way that man watches you. He stares at you as if you’re his entire universe.” You look back at Miguel and see him playing with Oliver.

“I say by the end of this year you two will be married and expecting.”

“Grandma!”

“Girl don’t grandma me. There is no way that man is going to settle with being your boyfriend. A man like that ought to be a husband.” You sigh and continue to watch Miguel play with Oliver.

As you watch him you get an odd thought. In the thought you see Miguel getting down on one knee and he’s proposing to you. You look down at your hand and you swear you see a ring. When you blink the ring was gone.

You feel dizzy and you almost trip. But you put the pan down and you catch yourself. “You okay baby cakes?” You nod. “I’m okay, I just need some water.” She gets you some water and you look back outside to see Miguel staring back at you.

What the hell was that?

•••

You were sitting on the back porch with Erica and Jerry watching the older folks dance to old school jams. Monica was playing spades with your aunties and Miguel was playing with the kids. “I think this cookout was perfect.” You announced. “Got that right, my stomach is full all I need is a man to cuddle with.”

“Jerry then why fuck are you looking at me?” Erica says narrowing her eyes at him. “Because with those broad shoulders you look like a man.”

“Oh bitch those are fighting words.” They get up ready to play fight but your grandmother gives them the look. “Behave yourselves.” She calls to them. “Yes Mrs. Valentine.” They say in unison as they walk over to grab some more drinks.

You sit back and look up at the stars, feeling happy. “Is that seat taken?” You look over to see Miguel and you smile at him. “Come.” You motion him over and he sits between your legs. “Did you have fun today, mi Corazón?”

“I did actually. And my family loves you. Especially Ollie. He doesn’t take to strangers well but he warmed up to you just fine.”

“I’m glad they like me. Hopefully next year….” He stops talking and you wait for him to continue but he stands up. “Come dance with me.” You take his hand and Stand by me by Prince Royce plays.

“You trust me?” He asks as he sees you’re nervous. “Yes.” You answer him without hesitation. Miguel then places his hand on your lower back and he tells you to follow his lead but don’t watch his feet.

You two move together and you still feel nervous. “Close your eyes and think of a happy place, amor.” He whispers in your ear. You shut your eyes and think for a moment.

When you have the happy place, you move to the beat of the song and Miguel guides your hips. You open your eyes and he was smiling at you as he sang the song to you. You smile so wide, it’s shocking that your face didn’t split in half.

Miguel spins you around and then dips you. As he pulls you back to him, you can’t help but feel your family watching the two of you. You do a move you didn’t know you could do, but it feels like a reflex.

Miguel lets you go and you dance by yourself, moving your long skirt to the beat of the music. You look at him and move your hips as you go to him. To you Miguel was the only thing that mattered to you in this very moment. When you finally go to him the song ends.

“I love you.” You say without hesitation. You then realized what you said and you start to take it back. “Yo tambien te quiero mi amor.” Miguel says with love in his eyes. You hear your family in the background cheering you two on but that doesn’t matter. You get on your tippy toes and you kiss him. He holds you and kisses you back as your family hoots and hollers at the two of you.

Yes this night was perfect…

After you had dropped Jerry and Monica off at their place, you and Erica were walking back into your apartment, with Miguel following behind you.

“How about I spend the night at your place for a change? It’ll give Erica a break from hearing us.” You say as you lean against the door frame. “I’d like that actually. But before you come over let me just go clear up some stuff.” Miguel kisses your lips several times, which makes you laugh. “Baby, go.” You push him back and he takes a small step back. “I love you, Tommie.”

“I love you too, Miguel.” He walks into his apartment and you walk into yours. You sigh like a love sick school girl and bring your leftover plate to the kitchen. When you enter you see Erica standing there reading something.

“What’s that?” You ask putting your plate in the fridge. She turns to you and pretends she wasn’t reading something. “Huh? Oh nothing.” You give her a look. “E, what is that?” You ask again. She sighs and hands you the paper. You read it and it’s about Miguel.

However there is barely anything on the paper. No mentions of his family. No mentions of his birth place. It mentions an ex or two but they had little to no information on Miguel.

“This is a good thing right? He has a clean record.” You try to be optimistic but Erica gives you a sad look. “T, my cousin is the best on getting dirt on anyone. But from what I read, Miguel is a total stranger. Just who have you been dating for the few months?”

You feel a knot of anxiety at the pit of your stomach as you wonder for yourself. “I’ll be right back.” You march out of your apartment and you knock on Miguel’s door.

He answers it after your third knock. “Amor I was just about to come get-what’s wrong?” You enter his place and you take a deep breathe.

“Miguel, be honest with me.” You say to him. “Of course, amor. I’ll always be honest with you.” You give him the paper and he looks it over. He looks up at you in confusion. “You had someone watching me? Why?”

“Because Miguel, even though we’ve been together for months, I really don’t know who you are. And there’s more. When you got hurt back at the restaurant, you had gotten cut badly and I know you did because your blood was on my hands. But a few hours later you were with me and you didn’t have a scratch on you. When I ask about where you grew up you say in Nueva York but you don’t tell me the location. You haven’t told me how you have those fangs and when I try to ask you about your past you change the subject.”

“Tommie, I promise I’ll tell you when the time is righ-”

“No! Tell me now! You show up late to things I invite you to and all you can do is say I’m sorry! What are you hiding from me!”

“You aren’t ready to know!”

“Fine! If it’s going to be like that then maybe we should take a break.”

“No don’t-don’t leave me.” You hear Miguel speak but you already have your hand in the door knob. You don’t want to leave but you need to know why he is acting this way.

He grabs you from behind and you feel his grip tighten on you. “I don’t want you to leave me, when you find out the truth.” You close your eyes and turn with your face in his chest.

“Please, Miguel. Just tell me the truth.” You open your eyes and see those sad hazel eyes looking down at you.

He lets you go and he takes several steps back.

“I should start from the beginning. You know about my work. How I am a scientist and I dabble in gene splicing.”

You suddenly don’t like where this story is going.

“Well, about three years ago, I was working with someone I thought I could trust. He had made many promises to me and I believed every last one of them. However he was dabbling in pharmaceuticals and had released it to the poor part of the public. He had created this…drug called rapture. If you have too much of it you can become addicted to it. I got wind of this and I didn’t want to be part of his company anymore so I told him that I was leaving. He didn’t like that. And I should’ve been smart enough to know he wasn’t going to let me leave so easily. So he had invited me out for drinks and he kept on giving me drinks. But in those drinks he had laced them with ten times the dosage of rapture and I was instantly addicted to the stuff. He told me that if he couldn’t keep me then he was going to ruin me. But with the knowledge I had with my research. I knew how I could break the addiction. I had done the tests on multiple animals, so why wouldn’t it work on a human subject?”

“Miguel, what did you splice your genes with?” You ask with a shake in your voice. He crouches for a second and in a blink he was on the ceiling, crawling around.

You fall flat on your ass and he taps his smart watch that was on his wrist. With strange technology, you watch as a suit molds to his body. He then lands in front of you and you gasp.

“You’re Spide-there’s not fucking way you’re him!” He taps his watch and his mask recedes from his face. “Amor, I am Spider-man. That’s why I’ve been late to a lot of your get togethers. I’ve been well you know.” You blink several times and just stare at him.

Miguel reaches out to touch you but you flinch from his claws. He jerks his hand back. “I apologize, but just know I would never hurt you.” His claws molds back into his fingertips and you slowly stand up. “I should go.” You blurt out. “Wait, Tommie I can understand that this is a shock to you.”

“No, this is more than a shock and I’m about to have a panic attack. Are the walls closing in?” You feel dizzy and he holds you up. But you move from his touch. “Amor, you don’t look to good.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up but you keep it together. “I need to get out of here.”

“But you said you wouldn’t leave.” You can hear the panic in his tone and you want to understand but the panic attack is stronger than your logical mind.

“Miguel, I’m sorry. I have to go.” You manage to open the door and leave his apartment in a rush. “I love you.” You hear him say after you. Before you knew it you were crying as you slammed your apartment door behind you.

“Tommie! What’s wrong?” Erica yells after you. But you ignore her and run to your room. You dive under the covers and you scream into your pillow.

You felt overwhelmed, anxious, and most of all hurt, because if he could hide something that big from you, then what else could he hiding?

The skeletons in his closet were just too much to handle.

••••

You’ve never done drugs before but if you did, then you’d be having withdrawals. You knew he was watching you because there were traces of him around you. When you were at work, you’d see finger prints on the outside of your window.

When you left your apartment, you could smell his scent by the door.

You’d dream about being in his arms, and this was driving you crazy.

Just go back to him!

Your brain was screaming.

But your body was hesitating. Why?

It was after work and you were staying in for the night. Milo was no where to be found and you were sitting there watching Anastasia. Technically the movie was watching you.

You were staring outside, thinking about Miguel. Wondering if he was okay. “This is stupid, you can just go over there and talk to him, Tommie.” You tell yourself. In your mind, you were already at his apartment, telling him how sorry you were for acting the way you did.

You look at your phone and you see he hasn’t messaged you in the past week.

The phone goes both ways. His words ring in your head and you decide to message him.

I’m sorry for the way I acted, I guess it all just became a lot for me to handle. I guess you were right when you said I wasn’t ready.

You erase that and type again.

I was stupid, will you forgive me?

You erase that message as well.

BABY PLEASSSSE!

You roll your eyes and erase that.

As you go to type something better, Miguel’s name pops up on your call screen. You answer it immediately. “Hi…” You breathe into the phone. “Hi, mi corazón. I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“I didn’t think you’d call. Listen I’m so sorry for the way I acted. You told me something very important and I treated it very childish.”

“No, amor. I should have told you sooner. I apologize.”

“How about we both apologize, and you come over because I’m lonely and Milo is hiding.” Miguel gives a husky laugh. “I will come to you in a se-” You hear a loud crash in the background and you sit up. “Miguel! Miguel are you alright? Answer me!”

“I’ll call you right ba-“ The phone goes dead and you quickly turn to the news. So far nothing had popped up. That’s good news right? That means it’s nothing major. You try to tell yourself.

Dread hits your chest when you see a 'this just in' headline across the screen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, as you can tell there has been a prison outbreak on the upper west side. Some of the inmates have taken over the jail and a few have escaped….huh? He’s here?”

You see in the far background, Miguel was was swinging into the prison and you were at the edge of your seat.

“Miguel, please be safe. Please be sa-” You see what looks like lights flashing in the prison and you think the worse.

“Baby, please be safe. I need you to be safe.” You pray as you continue to watch the footage.

“A source has said that the escaped prisoners have been located. They were encased in webbing. And-” The news reporter goes silent and nods.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to inform you that, Spider-Man has gotten the situation under control. I repeat, Spider-Man has gotten the situation under control. The warden as well as staff are all safe and there are no casualties.”

You let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding and jump when you feel Milo’s little paws on your toes.

“Milo! He did it! My boyfriend did it! Oh my god, I’m dating a super hero! I’m dating Spider-Man! Wait I shouldn’t say that too loud.” You jump up and down with happiness and you give Milo a big kiss on his head then set him back down as you go and take a quick shower before Miguel comes over.

•••

You were freshly showered and wearing a silver night gown as well as a grey headscarf. As you sat in your room with your lap top adding clothes to your cart. You swear you’re going to buy the stuff this time. You then hear a tap to your window.

You look over and you see him, hanging upside down. “Miguel!” You hiss as you run over and open the window down him. He crawls inside and he lands on his feet, towering over you.

His suit recedes off of him and he was your Miguel. “Hola hermosa.” He keeps still and you take a step forward. “Hi, you did good out there.” You say as you place your hands on his chest. He takes them and he kisses them. “That is my other job, amor. I hope you can understand that, if you still want to be together that is who you’ll be with as well.”

You give a sad smile. “I can handle that, though I’ll probably worry about you ten times more than I usually do. And what do you mean if? I still want this to work, you’re not getting rid of me Miguel.” He smiles and he leans down kissing you.

He then rests his head against yours. “Good, because keeping an eye on you has been torture for me. Always being close but never being with you. That hurts me more than getting punched in the face by Vulture.”

“So that’s who punched you? God I heard about him, doesn’t he…eat people?” He nods and he gently moves the lace strap off of your shoulder. “Is this new?” He asks.

“I got this a while ago, I figured you’d like it….” You’ve definitely said that before but when? “I do like it…I’ve missed you. I know it’s only been a week but I’ve missed being this close.” Miguel cups your face and he kisses you deeply.

You’ve missed this as well. His taste, his touch. God you’ve missed this man and your body was finally getting its dose of dopamine.

You break from the kiss first. “Promise me, that you’ll make sure you’re safe out there.” Miguel eyes saddens but you shake your head. “Please promise me.” He sighs and nods. “I promise, amor.” You kiss him and he lifts you up off of the floor bridal style and he places you on the bed.

“Te necesito, I need you so badly it hurts.” Miguel strips off his shirt and tosses it somewhere in your room. You help him with his pants as he kicks off his shoes.

Once he is completely naked, he helps you out of your night gown. You lay back down as Miguel lays on top of you and kisses your neck. “Tell me about your day, amor. I’ve missed your voice.” He whispers against your right breast.

He sucks that breast and you run your fingers through his hair and moan softly. “Today…was tough because I missed you…” You get distracted by the way his tongue rolls over your nipples but you get back into focus in telling him about your day.

“….but I…mmm, I got a lot of work done. I…oh please keep doing that. I checked the calendar and I’m due for a va…vacation, Miguel I can’t keep talking when you lick me like t-” You cut yourself off as watch Miguel crawl back between your legs.

“Fair enough, amor. Then I’ll tell you about my day. But first.” Miguel moves so both of you are laying side by side, but you’re in front of him and he has your leg partly lifted up.

“My day was miserable because I didn’t wake up under you this morning.” Miguel says as he slowly slides inside of you. You arch your back and touch his face as you feel your walls mold around his dick. “Eres tan apretada mi amor. So tight. Mmm, I had saved a woman from being robbed. I made sure…I made sure I kept an eye on you at work, oh shit, make it tighter for me, Tommie. I had lunch on the Statue of Liberty’s crown and I saved a prison from being taken over. But you know what made the day worth it?” He asks as he keeps his slow pace.

“What baby?” You moan as he keeps going in and out of you. “Being here with you. Being with you in this moment…being deep inside of you.” He slows down and he kisses your neck. You lean your head back against him and you feel his fangs gently trace the veins down your throat.

“I love you, I love you so much, Tommie.” He moans as he grips your hips and goes a bit harder with his thrusts but he keeps a slow pace.

“I love you too. I love you too, baby.” You moan out breathlessly. You lift your legs a bit more and feel him go deeper inside of you. You feel him reach down and rub slow circles around your clit and you let out a groan. “Baby, go faster. Please go faster.” You moan out.

“No, no, no, amor. You can take it at this pace. I know you can. I haven’t had this pussy in a week, fuck, I’m going to savor this pretty pussy for a while. But you can take it right? You can take daddy’s dick.” You go stupid for a second and forget how to speak as he keeps the same pace.

The pace he’s going was making a slow and hard build up for you, which made you grip your walls around him. Miguel grips your throat and kisses you deep. “You know exactly what you’re doing with this little pussy. If you keep that up, I’m going to come, amor.” Miguel moans as he starts to pick up the pace. “Please do, please come deep inside of me.” You moan out as he switches positions.

He was now on top of you and he was gripping your headboard as he did deep strokes. You place your hands on his chest and you reach up to pull him close to you. You tug at his bottom lip and your nails finds a way to his back.

Miguel starts to pick up the pace, causing the bed to shake. You start breathing heavy as you feel yourself about to climax. “Ven por mí, princesa. Come for me.” He thrusts harder and you start to stutter out his name. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” You groan as your walls pulse around him. Your nails dig deep into his back and he grabs a hold of you and he does two last stroke before he pumps you full.

You both still as you both come down from the climax high. He stays inside of you and he balances on his elbows. “You are amazing. Tan asombrosa.” You smile and kiss his lips. “You’re the amazing one. You are a super hero. I bet you’ve saved a lot of people.”

That comment made him frown.

He slides out of you causing the both of you to gasp. He then lays beside you and you turn to your side. “What’s wrong?” You ask him as you run a finger over a scar you hadn’t noticed before.

He gently moves your hand from his chest and he holds it. “My job, is just like anyone else’s who has to deal with the public. I have good days and I have bad days. In your eyes I am this amazing person, but amor. There will be days that I will come home to you and I’ll have to have let someone die. This job isn’t full of rewards.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I figured you don’t have anyone to talk to about this.” You offer. “You don’t have to amor. I don’t want to bring you such sadness.”

You sit up and sit criss cross. “Miguel, I have my sad days. Just like you. If there is one thing I can tell you is that, I understand loss. I love my grandparents, I do. But I’ll never have my dad walk me down the aisle. I’ll never have my mom guide me into motherhood. It took a few years of therapy and counseling to tell me that it wasn’t my fault that they passed. Even though I thought it was….” You look down at your fingers and let out a breath you know you’ve been holding since your were thirteen.

“…I was so angry with my parents. Over a missed event, over some play I don’t remember. But I remember that I was angry with them because they told me they wouldn’t be home in time to be with me. I went to bed angry. But when I woke up, my grandparents had told me the news. I felt that because I went to bed angry it was my fault that they were gone. I had so much…anger inside of me. That I had came to hate myself. And you know what they said when you’re an intelligent person. You tend to know how to do dangerous things.”

You look up at Miguel and you close your eyes. “My grandfather found me and I was rushed to the hospital. They had pumped my stomach and I got lectured that my parents wouldn’t have wanted me to take my own life. And I’m not telling you this for sympathy. No, I’m telling you this because I know what it’s like to have bad days, and I was happy later on when I had someone to talk to about it. So, Miguel let me be that person for you. Don’t bottle it up, if you have a bad super hero day then tell me. If you need a hug then my arms are always opened for you.” Miguel sits up and he pulls you into his arms.

“Thank you, Tommie. This helps.” He kisses your temple and you let a yawn escape. “Let’s get some rest.” You nod and grab the sheets and pull it over the two of you.

Miguel pulls you on top of him and you let your head rest on his chest. “Baby, what spider did you splice yourself with?” You ask feeling sleepy.

You feel him stroke a hand against your shoulder and he looks down at you. “If I tell you, you’ll have nightmares. Just know that it isn’t deadly. Well it’s only deadly when threatened.” He gives a soft chuckle and you rub your face into his chest. “Good night.” You whisper as you take a deep breathe and fall asleep in Miguel’s arms…

Previously, Next

[tgmsunmontue]

From the top 4/? (WIP)

IceMav, (eventual) Explicit, (background Hangster who are already established). Set post-TGM. (No dead Ice obviously).

Featuring not-mistaken identities (where they (Ice and Mav) pretend to be in the dark for REASONS), Ice is Jake's Uncle Tom, Mav is Bradley's Dad, everyone knows everyone, (un)requited love, coming out as an older person, and a little bit of a circus-vibe where Ice has a horrible realization that this is indeed his circus and these are also his monkeys.

An AU where Mav married Carole and adopted Bradley to make things easier legally. A USNA Bradley who has been very careful to separate Dad/Pete from godfather/Maverick. They had an argument prior to TGM, but it was around Maverick being careless with his life (RE: Darkstar because Bradley got the call that Maverick was missing, presumed dead). So it was about risk taking and thinking while flying, so that was happening and Bradley admits to the Dagger Squadron that Maverick is his godfather and they have a ‘complicated relationship’ which isn’t a lie per se, however it’s… complicated.

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE

PART FOUR

>>How did the sweeping go?

                Pete stares at the message and rolls his eyes, types out you tell me before deleting it. For some reason he can’t wrap his head around, Ice seems to want this faux-layer of anonymity. He’s asking Pete what he thinks. Clearly wants to know.

>>It’s an ongoing project, not one I intend to ever stop. I think it started well though.

>>What about you?

>>Ask your best friend out yet?

                He scrunches his nose as he looks at his phone, wonders how Ice is going to wiggle out of this one. He will wiggle though, Ice is nothing if not a phenomenal diplomat and has a gift with words.

>>We had dinner together. It went very well.

                Even though he was there, even though he’d seen his effect on Tom, had had the realization about just how deep Tom’s feeling went and for how long it’s still incredibly reassuring to read that Tom also thinks it went well. Very well in fact. He grins at his phone stupidly.

>>Glad to hear it.

>>What are you up to right now?

>>Packing for a work trip. Flight is this afternoon.

                Of course.

                Hawaii.

>>I’ll leave you to your packing.

>>Let me know when you land.

>>Okay.

>>If you want me to.

>>I want you to.

                The exchange leaves Pete feeling a little unmoored. Usually when they’re apart they don’t talk very much, a hangover from longer deployments when they’d send each other letters or postcards, each piece taking weeks to get there. It gives them plenty to talk about once they’re back together, but Pete wants some way to show Ice that he’s thinking about him. More than just messaging him or drowning him in flowers…

                Postcards.

                They’re not quite love letters, although maybe they could be, simply a sign that he’s thinking about him. Except the postal service is so much slower than sending immediate messages, but they’re something tangible, and Ice knows what they mean. He looks at his box of vintage postcards and smiles slowly, decides to send one to Ice’s office in Hawaii. He’s aware as he addresses it that Ice hasn’t even gone wheels-up to leave, but with the pace of the mail service he’ll likely get it halfway through his time there. And then Pete will make sure there’s a whole lot more waiting for him when he gets home.

…            …            …

                Tom isn’t used to sharing so much mundane information with Maverick. When they’re apart they’ve always gone on the assumption that no news is good news, especially considering Maverick’s exploits generally reach his ears fairly quickly. However he dutifully lets him know that he arrives safely, and Pete likewise shares his own safe arrival. In his actual messages there is an invitation from Mav to come out to his hangar for dinner a day after he’s scheduled to get back.

                He’s busy with work. While the Navy have given him special dispensation to work from North Island a lot so he can have family support while he was undergoing treatment he’s also well aware that there is a lot to try and cram in during his time here. He will need to relocate back here, once he’s given the all clear and his lips twist at the thought; the distance it will put between him and Maverick just as they seem to finally be figuring things out. Not that he doesn’t think they can deal with it.

                “Mail for you sir.”

                “Thank you.”

                He doesn’t get mail very often now, most communication is electronic, but he can’t stop his heart skipping when he sees the postcard. Even without turning it over he knows it’s from Mav, the fact it’s a vintage WW2 postcard, a pinup girl on the front encouraging people to join the Navy. He’s immediately amused. Maverick’s collection of postcards is something Tom has always poked fun at, asking him what the point of buying postcards was if he wasn’t ever going to send them. He’d replied that he liked the history of them and the pictures, and he would send them if he knew the person receiving them would really appreciate them, and if they were important enough.

                And here he is, receiving one.

                It’s not like he had any doubts but this is… this is really something. He runs a finger around the edge of the card, thinks of Pete going through all his cards and choosing one to send him. He flips it over to read, finds himself smiling at Mav’s spiky script, isn’t surprised that there’s almost no text to speak of, too used to keeping things vague and brief on the back of a postcard that anyone could read.

                T-14. M.

                He looks at the date of the postal stamp and realizes it was received and processed the day he left. Fucking Maverick.

                Swept indeed.

…            …            …

                Pete usually works on his plane when he has free time. However he’s had a different project consuming his time while Ice has been gone. This weekend he’s expecting a delivery of a few things to finish things up. While the trailer has been fine, he’s not as young as he once was, he can accept that now. He’s also not going to expect Ice to sleep in it, doesn’t think he would fit, because Bradley had complained and he’s an inch shorter than Ice.

                So his long-standing plans for the one corner of the hanger has become his top priority. A mezzanine level built over what is meant to be a permanent kitchenette. The skeleton and support structure has been built for years, and all the plumbing is in place but capped off. The cabinetry is sitting in boxes, unassembled. He doesn’t care about the kitchen, what he cares about is the space above. A bedroom of sorts. A large California king he’s ordered which is now sitting beside the P-51. Now he’s just got to figure out how the hell he’s going to get it up to the level above by himself. He’s spent time painting and laying vinyl, plastering and installing a fan over the bed, which had involved placing more beams. But he’s proud of his progress. Normally he’d have told Ice all about it, but he wants to show him. Surprise him.

                “Mav? You here?”

                “Bradley?” Pete calls out, popping his head to the side around the side-railing of the mezzanine. He could help. “Do you think you could help me lift the mattress up here?”

                “Uh…” Bradley looks at the large mattress wrapped in plastic, the matt-black frame which still needs to be fully assembled.

                “Mav… this is like a four-person job. At least. But… how about we assemble the base and set it up, then I’ll come back tomorrow with some of the others, and we can figure it out. Are you… finally settling down?”

                “Finally doing something,” Pete mumbles under his breath, but louder he says, “yeah, finally admitting my back can’t handle the thin foam mattress in the trailer.”

                “Good call.”

…            …            …

                Bradley does return the next day, after convincing all the Daggers to come with him. They’ve all been out to the hangar before, but he had said that Mav needs their help, and well, left it at that. So half of them think they’re working on the P-51, which Bradley knows won’t be happening until either Mav dies or hell freezes over, or there is something else. He’d noted the unfinished kitchenette, and he’s pretty sure with all of them pitching in they can get things to the point where he doesn’t have to worry about his god-father hurting himself through DIY. It would make a change from it happening at work, but Bradley would put money on there being other extenuating circumstances that Mav isn’t sharing, and if Bradley can help those along then he will. He and Jake have talked about it, and they just have to wait it out.

                “My dad is a plumber, I know what I’m doing…” Phoenix snaps, and Mav nods, backs away, she does indeed look like she knows what she’s doing. Fanboy and Payback have started unpacking the cabinetry and laying it out, while Coyote and Jake are discussing ropes and pulleys to lift the mattress up.

                “Did you have to get a bed this big Maverick?” Coyote asks. “It’s not like you take up that much space…”

                Bradley snorts, lets his eyes meet Jake’s who just smirks and licks over the toothpick in his mouth suggestively and Bradley rolls his eyes.

                “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to son…” Maverick says, and then Coyote is spluttering and looking embarrassed and everyone is laughing.

…            …            …

                He has sent a postcard every single day, glad that he can just slide them anonymously into the box on base near the administration block, not that he cares who knows, but he suspects Ice would prefer to keep things a little more private. Pete himself feels like yelling it from the top of the control tower every time he thinks about it, and he’ll tell Ice as much later, when he can commend Pete on his self-control and maturity in person.

                They’ve somehow, without ever discussing it, separated their communications into two very distinct avenues. The messaging app where they’re both pretending they don’t know who they’re talking to, which he has come to appreciate for how open he can be there, like asking Ice to let him know that he’s arrived somewhere safely. Finding out how Ice feels without asking him directly. Except he is asking directly, but there is this thin veil of pretense they’re both letting hang between them. He’s started to like it, especially when Ice mentioned receiving the postcard, and how much he knew it meant to be receiving it. Pete hadn’t told him there would be another one waiting at his house for every day he’s been away. He wants it to be a surprise.

                Right now they’re doing their almost regular night-time chat before Pete drops off to sleep.

>>What do you like about him?

>>Everything.

>>That’s not a proper answer.

                Pete rolls his eyes and pulls a face, even though no one can see him, settles further into bed because he’s already fallen asleep once on the sofa and it had not been great for his back.

>>What do you like?

>>About your friend?

>>I asked you first.

>>But he makes my life brighter. I always look forward to seeing him, even when I’m tired or grumpy.

                Pete snorts. If Ice is tired, then he’s grumpy, and vice versa. The fact that he looks forward to seeing Pete even when he’s feeling those things, that somehow his presence makes Ice feel better make him feel warm. Oh. Maybe Ice needs… reassurance or confirmation that Pete finds him… attractive? He’d rather do that in person. Surely Ice knows? Regardless Pete can make sure.

>>I do like everything about him.

>>He wouldn’t be my best friend if I didn’t genuinely enjoy his company. Respect him.

>>But there are things I love. Like his hands. They’re

>>They’re what?

>>Big. Capable. Clever. Elegant.

>>Oh.

                Pete chews on his bottom lip, imagines Ice in his own bed, staring at his hands and imagining how Pete feels about them. Of course, he’s imagined quite a lot more about Ice’s hands, back when he was younger, before he very firmly locked the thoughts away so he wouldn’t ever act on them. Now of course is a different matter, knowing what he knows about Ice and their new relationship trajectory.

>>I love the way he smiles.

>>He doesn’t smile often enough but it makes it even better when he does.

…            …            …

                Tom has never been so eager to get home. Most of his career one place has often been the same as another; while North Island has his sister and her family and Jake, with Mav close by when he’s not deployed, he’s never longed to be home as much as he does right now. It’s after nine at night, the porch light is the only light on, set on a timer. The taxi drops him off and Tom thanks the driver, walks up the path to his front door with weary steps. He’s tired and cold despite the warm spring night. He opens his front door and flicks off the porch light and the entryway light on, unlaces his shoes and places them on the rack; lets the familiarity of home wash over him.

                He locks the door and turns the light off again, making his way through the house towards the stairs, his eyes adjusting to the muted-light from the street lamps outside, quietly heading toward his bedroom. His bedside light is on, beside it is a large glass of water and a stack of… postcards. Then he sees the little handwritten note, recognizes the writing as Maverick’s and finds himself smiling.

                Have a shower. Drink some water. I turned your electric blanket on. Sleep well. See you tomorrow. - M

                The gestures are all sweet and he wishes Mav was here himself, so he could curl up around him and fall asleep holding him. Of course he’s too tired for anything else, but… maybe tomorrow night. He hopes so, although considering he’s going out to the hangar he’s not going to hold his breath. The trailer might rock off its stands if they had sex too vigorously. Hell. What is he even thinking, they haven’t even shared a proper kiss yet.

>>Home safe. Tired.

>>Feeling very loved.

>>Good.

>>You are loved.

>>See you tomorrow night.

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Two

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties), some to-be-expected cursing, depiction of the beginnings of a panic attack (it doesn’t become a full blown one).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: I intended this to be a two part story, but as always, it didn’t turn out that way (my brain is like a mushroom farm at this point), and the third part of this (fingers crossed), is going to be the final part.

I’m choosing to look on the bright side and I’m telling myself I’m more than halfway done with this.

*sighs in frustrated writer*

This part is a little more MavDad than shippy, but it’s where this wanted to go, so…

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had been expecting a normal day when he met her.

Or, well, as normal as a day could get for him.

It was a bright and sunny weekend at the Apple Valley Airshow, where Mav had just flown an aerobatic sequence for the gathered crowds in Bianca, his beloved P-51, and Bradley had not taken much convincing to come out for a day with his dad and the chance to see planes, despite the fact that he was already around them Monday to Friday.

Most aviators were plane nerds after all, and airshows like these were heaven for aviators like him and Bradley.

“You okay back there, Baby Goose?” Mav asked through the comms, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the engine of the P-51.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” Bradley breathlessly replied from the backseat, his exhale turning into a weak chuckle. “You’re crazy, you know that, right, Dad?”

“Your father and uncles might have mentioned that a few times,” Mav grinned.

He gracefully looped the venerable Mustang around and brought her smoothly onto the runway, mindful of the P-51’s unstrengthened landing gear, gently flaring the aircraft so she caressed the tarmac, unlike the unflared, hard landing he instinctively would have done in any Navy aircraft.

After an uneventful taxi back to the flight line, he pushed the canopy back and climbed out of the cockpit, Bradley a second behind him.

“At least we didn’t have anyone shooting at us this time around,” Mav half-joked, patting his boy on the back, once he’d also jumped down from the wing.

“Thank Heaven for small mercies,” the younger man muttered.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, Brads.”

Bradley chewed the inside of his cheek, before amusement shone in his eyes, and he cracked a smile. “Okay, yeah, it was pretty cool.”

“She’s still got moves, huh?”

His son looked affectionately at the P-51. “Yeah, she does.

But it’s not the plane, it’s the pilot, isn’t it?”

“I’m willing to share when it’s this girl,” Mav grinned, patting her sun-warm silver fuselage.

After the two of them had stacked their parachutes and harnesses between the landing gear, Mav was busy putting the chocks on the wheels, when he heard a smooth female voice say, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” Bradley replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

A low, rich chuckle. “Are you the owner?”

Bradley scoffed amusedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

Mav ducked out from beneath the undercarriage and under a propeller, coming face to face with a very unexpected, but not unwelcome sight.

The first thing he noticed about the woman standing before him was her air of extreme competence, which immediately had him wanting to know more about her.

(He was decidedly ignoring the memory of Halo saying he had a competency kink after he’d told some stories from when he was in relationships at a Dagger Squad get together [non-explicit; the Daggers, especially Bradley, didn’t need to hear… intimate details of his life, after all].)

A quick appraisal had him estimating her to be older than Bradley, but younger than him.

She was beautiful, with lips glossed just right, shining, lush hair that he could already imagine running his hand through, a smile he could look at forever, and a figure that ticked all his proverbial boxes, visible even with her long, loose brown cardigan and cream button-down shirt over black jeans.

But what hit him like Mach 10 (and he would know) was the spark in her eyes, keen and intelligent, and they held a warmth and passion that called to him.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand, ignoring the fact that he was stunned by this woman so he could attempt to be his usual self.

He’d been delighted to show her around Bianca, and he even went so far as to let her sit in the old girl.

Mav had not been expecting what she said about the book she was writing—her granduncle’s story hit home on practically every level possible.

He was absolutely honest with her when he said he wanted to help, but… he’d absolutely be lying if he said he didn’t give it with the hope that she’d call him in the first place.

It’d been years since he’d felt like this about someone, and he tried to stifle a smile as he recalled how they’d collided on Bianca’s wing, his quick reflexes preventing them from falling off the wing with a snapped-out right hand on the cockpit edge, his left instinctually protectively pressing her against him.

He’d never forget the way his heart raced as he realized their proximity, his battle-honed wits prompting him to swiftly move his hand before she could register his touch, though he kept his arm close enough to catch her if she began to slip off the trailing edge.

“What’s with that look, Dad?”

Bradley’s voice brought Mav back to the present, where he sat on his favorite chair in his hangar, Bianca’s flight log book in his right hand, pen in his left. “What look?”

Bradley shut the locker for the safety gear, the last thing on the P-51’s post-flight checklist, and strode over to the couch opposite. “You look sappy.”

“I’m just happy I had a great day flying in my girl, and with my Baby Goose, no less.” It was not a lie at all, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Any other person would have probably bought that excuse, but Bradley was one of the very few people he’d ever met in his life who could read him like a book in every situation, a skill unfortunately inherited from his father. “Uh-huh, sure, I think you’re just thinking about __,” his son incisively replied.

Mav absently bit his lip, “…That obvious, kid?”

“…It’s about as obvious as an F-14 in cloudless sky at 2,000 feet.”

“So, pretty damn obvious,” he squinted speculatively.

“Yeah.

You guys were like something out of a romcom, honestly.

Was that thing on the wing on purpose?” Bradley grinned.

“No, it wasn’t,” he smiled.

“Because you know, if you were any shorter, you might’ve ended up kissing her.”

Mav felt himself turn a little red, but was still amused despite himself. “Shut up.”

Heedless, Bradley continued, “You would have liked that, I’m sure.”

“You’re just as bad as your father,” he sighed.

His gosling’s grin turned sentimental. “Learned it from both of them.”

Bradley had openly called him “Dad” for years before, and again after their reconciliation, but statements like that never failed to warm his heart.

Helpless, Mav stood, and, going over to his son, stooped slightly to place a hand on his shoulder and a kiss at his temple. “Love you, Baby Goose.”

Before he could pull away, Bradley wrapped both arms tightly around him. “Love you too, Dad.

Mav was more than content to let the moment sit, the two of them still making up for almost twenty years of no hugs from the other.

Bradley eventually broke the silence with, “I’ll go heat up that pizza we got from the grocery last night, Dad, how about that?”

He frowned, pulling back, “I can do that, B,—”

“I’ll do it, Dad, you just sit and relax,” Bradley said, already walking towards the Airstream, and just as he was about to step inside the silver trailer, the kid fired off, “Think about your writer!”

Mav spluttered, looking incredulously at the Airstream’s door.

Bradley was really too much like Goose and him, he chuckled silently to himself.

The weekend’s end saw the two of them return to the duplex he and Bradley had bought together last year, sitting about fifteen minutes drive in the Bronco (about half that on the Ninja, at full Mav power) away from TOPGUN, where they were both posted as instructors; Mav himself permanently, Bradley, for a three-year period before his next deployment cycle.

Monday dawned, and he found himself glancing at the screen of his phone every time it dinged, so much so, that said son repeatedly glanced between him and the cellphone laid out on the Officer’s Mess Hall table over lunch.

“What?” Mav asked, confused at the younger man’s consterned expression.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Dad?

You have not looked away from your phone since we sat down, Mav.

You used to have no idea what TikTok was, and now you look like Hangman after he posts a new photo on Insta, and I would know—God, he was insufferable that time in Sigonella.”

“…I’m guessing Insta is Instagraph?”

Bradley made a noise quite like his callsign. “l—you don’t even—Instagram, Mav, Instagram.

It’s like you’re expecting a call or so—” brown eyes excitedly widened as dots were abruptly connected, “—ohh shit; you gave her your number, didn’t you, your writer?”

Mav rolled his eyes, “She’s not my writer, Brads, but I… I did give her my number just in case she needed more help with—research.”

“Oh, research, sure, Mav; I bet you’d love to help her with her research,” the younger man chortled.

“You sound like your Uncle Slider.”

“Uh-huh—” Bradley brushed off, “we’re getting off topic here, did she say she’d call you or something?”

“No, she didn’t.

I told her to call if she needed me.” He wondered if, instead of being subtle, he should have just out and asked her to call him—or even just asked her out directly; the Maverick of over thirty years ago would have.

His son’s eyes comically widened. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you did not say it like that—that is as bad as you serenading that ex of yours with, of all the songs, “Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band.”

“Hey, that’s a good song!” Mav protested.

“It’s also creepy as hell—‘I wanna reach out and grab ya’?

Tell me you hear that?!”

Well, when the lyrics were said like that… “In hindsight, I hear it, no, I did not say it like that, and now who’s getting off topic, Roo?”

“Fine—so you were playing subtle, huh?” Bradley wrinkled his nose, tilting his head from side to side. “Well, we’ll just have to see if the subtle play works, because the Maverick charm was on max power, so you likely made an impression—”

“Thanks, kid?”

“—so I’d say… there’s a sixty-five percent chance she’ll call you,” was the determination.

Mav paused and raised an eyebrow. “Only sixty-five?”

“I’m taking into account the variable that she might not go for… people like you, you know.”

“…No.”

Mav could see both himself and Nick in Bradley’s shit-eating grin. “Old men.”

“An old man, huh?

Well, this is an old man who can still kick the asses of people less than half his age, and you too, Brads, six ways to Sunday, in the air or on the mats.”

A fork promptly got brandished daringly. “I almost had you when we did that demo on the death spiral two weeks ago, Dad, and if you hadn’t slipped my headlock on Wednesday, I’d have gotten you to tap out.”

Mav reached over and affectionately ruffled his son’s brown curls. “Almost only works with grenades, Baby Goose; now eat your shitty mashed potatoes.”

The week ticked by, and after every hop, he tried not to make it too obvious to Bradley, whose locker was right next to his in the Instructor’s Locker Room, that his phone was the first thing he checked.

By Wednesday evening, he was starting to lose what hope he had, and he ignored his son’s sad look as he surreptitiously looked at his phone.

On Thursday evening, Bradley slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked together to the parking lot. “I know I give you shit about being old, Dad, but you’ve still got more than enough charm and looks for women to be attracted to you.

I mean, you should have heard the stuff Phoe and Halo were saying about you during the detachment training—ugh, especially after Dogfight Football.

The thirst was real.”

At his confused look, Bradley continued, “Long story short, they said you were—bleh—hot.

I’m not repeating exactly what they said, even though I can, it’s all seared into my memory, unfortunately,” he finished, shuddering.

Mav laughed, “I’m sorry for the trauma, but, what, uh, brought this train of thought on, Baby Goose?”

He was pressed closer into a Hawaiian shirt-clad side. “I know you’re sad about not getting called by your writer.”

Knowing it was useless to deny it, he shook his head, “I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting, because I really thought we had a connection, but it’s probably for the best, because I’m… well, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” his son adamantly stated. “Because you’re… kind and loving, with a heart about a billion sizes too big for his body, who gives so much of himself in literally everything—except maybe following orders; any woman would be happy with you.”

Mav reached and gave the vague vicinity of a shoulder a loving pat. “You give me too much credit.”

“No, Dad, you would make someone very happy—I want to see you happy,” Bradley squeezed a Nomex jacketed arm.

“I am happy, kiddo;” he cheerfully stated, “I can fly, I have the rest of the Flyboys, the Daggers, Bianca, and most importantly, I have you, my not-so little boy, who’s become a better man than I could have hoped.”

Bradley halted in his tracks, and tugged him into a hug with a laugh that could have been a sob. “Fuck, Dad, how do you just say shit like that?”

“Like what, that I’m so proud of you?” Mav beamed.

His son’s heatless “Shut up, will you, old man?” sounded suspiciously wobbly, but Mav chose not to remark on it, and hugged back before they continued walking after a moment.

“But back to my point,” the younger man pointed, “unless there’s something you’re not telling me about your relationship with Bianca, she doesn’t count as a woman in your life.

I know you have me, the Daggers, and the Flyboys, but it’s different from being in love and getting that love back.” Bradley suddenly snapped his fingers, “I know, I should start you a dating app profile!”

“Oh no, I’ve heard horror stories about dating apps, and I’m not desperate, Baby Goose.”

Bradley threw both hands up, “It’s not about desperation, Hangman has—okay, that’s not a good example—but you know, you need to put yourself out there more.

Meet someone.

Come on, Dad, please?”

The kid looked so hopeful, he couldn’t outright say no. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!

It’s not a no, I’ll take it.

I’ll look through the photos at the hangar tomorrow night—we gotta pick the right one—that can make or break things!

Maybe one of you in the dress whites or blues—or hey, ladies love the flight suit, and it’ll be even better if you’re in front of your F-18…”

At Bradley’s musing, Mav had a smile on his face all the way to his Kawasaki, and the whole way home, trailing in the Bronco’s wake.

After work early Friday evening, both men began the preparations for their weekly getaway to the hangar, packing their respective bags with whatever they deemed necessary for a two-day stay in the Mojave.

Mav was busying himself with checking his duffel before he hopped in the shower, when he heard clattering from his kitchen, and immediately, a dismayed “Damn it!” rang through the house.

“You okay, kiddo?” he called out.

“Yeah, I just—we’re out of Doritos!”

As amusing as it sounded, that did constitute a little bit of an emergency—the triangular chips were Bradley’s go-to snack, ever since he was a child, and he’d be bemoaning the lack of them the whole two days at the hangar if they really were out. “Did you check your kitchen?”

“I looked there first—we can’t leave without Doritos, Dad!”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “You still have time to go grab some if you want, I still have to take a shower, Brads,” he offered.

“Good idea, I’ll just go to the store and grab some, be right back!”

“Okay, drive safe!”

“Always!”

Mav waited to hear his front door shut before turning for his bathroom and starting the shower, tossing his shirt in the hamper on the way.

A few minutes later, he’d just begun to rinse off when he heard a faint noise from downstairs; his phone was ringing, he realized.

He initially paid it no mind—he’d been getting scam calls the last few days, which always ended up disappointing him—but then… it kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Hope suddenly bloomed in his chest, and he hurried to get out of the shower.

He nearly faceplanted on his own bathroom floor in his haste, stumbling when his lunge for his towel missed, but he was able to keep himself upright and the second attempt had the fabric in his hand, then around his waist.

Mav dashed out the bathroom and down the stairs, tapping the green “accept call” button.

“Pete Mitchell,” he spoke into his phone, trying not to sound like he’d just run a marathon while his chest heaved.

A slight pause later, a hesitant “Hi,” came over the phone, and his heart leapt. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

She had to be joking if she thought she was that easily forgettable. “__, right?

The writer,” he replied, pushing the dripping strands of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions.”

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” he smiled.

The following invite to the hangar was twofold; he’d be able to help her without the hassle of dealing with emails or something like that, and he’d be able to gauge if she was actually interested in him.

He remembered the way she’d slightly frozen, when he stepped out from under Bianca, how she’d glanced at his hand when he’d extended it for a handshake.

But he’d been wrong about a great many things before, and he didn’t want to immediately assume she was interested, because everyone knew what the first three letters of assume were, and for all he knew, she really just needed help.

Regardless, he smiled while they bantered as easily as breathing; it was invigorating, and… maybe a little bit of a turn-on, if he was honest.

(Maybe Halo was right.)

Shortly after they said goodbye, Mav sent the address of the hangar with a “How does 3:30 sound to you?” to her number, and three beats after it registered delivered, a “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message came in, which had him sigh like a teenager as he leaned against the counter for a moment, before he pushed off to get dressed.

By the time Bradley came back with four grocery bags full of Doritos, from two different groceries, Mav was already dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans, ready to go. “You got enough Doritos there, Baby Goose?” he gawked at the sheer amount of chips.

“I’m restocking us, Dad, it’s not all for the weekend,” the younger man replied, emptying one grocery bag and a half into Mav’s snack cabinet. “I just need to put another bag and this half at mine, and the rest I’m taking.”

He bit down on his laughter and watched as his son dashed next door to stock his own snack cabinet, before returning in time to catch him staring at the “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message on his phone.

“You’re looking sappy again,” Bradley squinted suspiciously at him. “It’s almost like you got a call from your writer.”

Mav tried to keep his face neutral, but as always, it was pointless with his gosling.

The kid’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, she did call you, didn’t she?!

Fuck, you still got it, Dad.”

He waved off, “There’s no guarantee she actually is interested in me like that, and she called me because she needs my help.”

“Oh, your help, of course,” Bradley grinned. “Well?

What’s the profile?”

Mav rolled his eyes. “She wrote a dogfight scene she can’t cut, and she wants to make sure the tactics are sound.

So I invited her to the hangar tomorrow so we don’t have to do any emails and stuff.”

The younger man whistled, impressed. “That was smooth as hell, Dad.

You have an idea of when she’s coming over?”

“1530ish.”

Bradley planted his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, that’s a good amount of time, but we’ll still have some work to do.”

“Work—what are you planning, Baby Goose?”

“We have to make the hangar a little neater than usual—make you seem like a responsible adult,” his son replied, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Mav burst into laughter while picking up his duffel. “If your father, your uncles, and nearly forty years in the Navy couldn’t do that, what makes you think spiffing up the hangar could?”

“Worth a shot, you never know—she might be fooled,” Bradley muttered, locking Mav’s front door behind them both.

“I heard that!”

When the afternoon set over the hangar the next day, now the neatest it’d been in a long time (admittedly, it wasn’t that bad, Mav just had a particular system, which didn’t much look like one in the first place), Bradley clapped his hands, “Now, I’m going to head into town, Dad.”

“What for?”

“Dad, your writer is coming in about ten minutes, and the last thing you need is me cramping your style, so I’m going to head into town, I’ll be back at around… let’s call it 2345–please don’t be naked when I come back—”

“Bradley!” Mav exclaimed, a little bit scandalized, though they were both hardly virginal.

“—and, and, prior notice of if I shouldn’t come back would be greatly appreciated.”

“Bradley!”

“What?

I’m just covering the bases.”

“There’s no bases to cover here, I’m just going to review her scene,” he replied.

“Annnd?” the younger man deadpanned.

“And then… we’ll see what happens.

But all I know is I’m not about to—whatever you’re thinking is going to happen.” Mav sighed, picking up a screwdriver that had fallen off the maintenance cart next to Bianca, and placed it back in the toolbox. “And I don’t… this probably isn’t going to go anywhere, because—I’m pushing sixty, kiddo, and really… I don’t think I have casual—anything—left in me anymore.”

Bradley slowly nodded, a proud look on his face. “Good for you, Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, nodding, mustache quirking up. “I’m happy you know what you want.

But you gotta be more optimistic than this, because who knows, this could lead to your more-than casual something.” Bradley slapped him on the arm, “Come on, where’s the ‘I’m going anyway’ Maverick Mitchell who proved he could fly a suicide mission on a crazy profile, with fifteen seconds to spare?”

Mav scoffed self-deprecatingly, “Doing crazy pilot shit; that makes sense to me, Baby Goose, but… relationships—I’ve always FUBAR-ed them.

Oh God, I don’t actually know what I was thinking, giving her my number—this was a mistake,” he muttered, thoughts beginning to spiral as his breathing picked up.

Bradley grabbed both his arms, squeezing them to ground him. “Hey—hey, Dad, look at me—look at me.

Take a breath.

You did not make a mistake, you made a connection with someone, you offered to help them, and she took you up on the offer.

At the least, you help someone in need, and you come out the other side with a friend; if everything goes well, maybe you get more than friendship.

But like you said, you’re just checking the scene she’s having trouble with, like she asked.

Don’t put pressure on yourself—just see what happens.

You got this, Dad.”

“I got this,” Mav murmured, partly confirming his son’s statement, partly reassuring himself, and partly asking if he did, indeed “got” it.

“You got this; come here.” Bradley pulled him into a tight hug, one to which Mav clung, while he got ahold of himself.

When he pulled back from his son’s embrace and repeated “I got this,” a minute or so later, it was still slightly shaky, but held some of the classic Maverick confidence.

“That’s the spirit.” The younger man checked his watch, wincing. “I don’t want to cramp your style, and I’m cutting it close, but I don’t want to leave you if you’re going to spiral again.

You good, Dad?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” Bradley frowned.

“Yeah, I’ll just check on Bianca a little while I’m waiting.”

His son exhaled heavily. “You do that, alright?

Don’t get in your head—don’t think, just do, remember?”

“I remember,” Mav smirked.

“Okay.

I’m gonna go now.” Bradley cautiously backed out of the hangar, as if ready to pull him into another hug if he showed the slightest tell of another mental spiral. “Call me if I shouldn’t come back, and remember, 2345!

Please don’t be naked!!”

“Go!!” Mav chuckled, feeling mostly like himself again, if not slightly nervous.

“Love you!”

“Love you more, kiddo!”

Soon, the sound of the Bronco’s engine rumbled through the dry air before it faded, leaving the air still and silent except for the distant sounds of the Mojave.

Before his and Bradley’s reconciliation, he was used to the stillness and silence, a consequence of choosing to make the hangar his home a few years ago, upon his assignment as a test pilot at NAWS China Lake, despite the long commute; he’d never liked base housing, and avoided it like the plague.

He’d even found the stillness and quiet comforting in a sadistic way, thought it was maybe something he deserved in cynical moments.

But now, the hangar which Hondo had once referred to as his “Fortress of Solitude”, was a place of life, love, and joy, the old silence and stillness now the strange one.

Before he could think too much about his relationship with silence, he went to Bianca and started some busywork with her engine, allowing his mind to get lost—and more importantly, his body to relax—in the process.

He’d gotten so absorbed in his beloved plane’s maintenance that he almost missed the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling up to the hangar.

Immediately, his heart started racing again, but he’d accepted that for better or worse, this whole thing was going to play out as it would; if that involved him fucking something up, he just prayed he could fix it.

Moment of truth; the car door opened.

“Ghostrider, up and ready,” he muttered to himself.

“Hello?” she uncertainly called.

“In here,” he replied.

Mav swallowed thickly upon seeing her; he liked to think he had a decent memory, but his memory did no justice to her.

The desert afternoon light streaming in through the open hangar door haloed her in an otherworldly way, only making her even more beautiful to him, the breeze blowing her hair around and billowing her loose blouse.

His eyes were drawn to the little smile at the corner of her lips, and it was only because he’d been looking there, that he realized she was speaking.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he brightly said, hoping that that wasn’t too out of left field from what she’d said, because he’d completely missed it.

Her smile widened, “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one time opportunity.”

The replies that immediately came to mind sounded creepy, stupid, or worse, so he settled for, “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, lighting up her already sparkling gaze, biting her lip briefly before looking around the hangar, her eyes soon landing on Bianca. “Great place you’ve got here; must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’re got friends in high places.” Mav recalled the moment Ice and the Flyboys gave him the title to the hangar for his fortieth birthday, which they were celebrating along with his promotion to Commander.

She tilted her head slightly, and he realized that she probably heard the somber tone in his voice—remembering Ice was still hard, but it was getting better.

“Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, pushing forward, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked as if clearing her head, and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

Mav gestured to his couch, and as they moved towards it, he prayed that he wouldn’t somehow make a fool of himself today.

To be continued…

Previous Part Next Part

Because the P-51 was an Air Force aircraft, her landing gear was not designed for hard, unflared Navy-style landings, which are flown in that manner for carrier operations.

However, even if naval aviators land on a full-length runway, carrier habits die hard, and if you watch planespotting streams, such as my favorite, L.A FLIGHTS, you can make reasonable guesses as to who was former Navy, as the landings will tend to have a shallower flare at landing.

Chocks

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

The trailing edge of a wing is its back edge, the edge closer to the tail—its opposite is the leading edge, the edge closer to the nose.

The chair I write as Mav’s favorite chair is the one he sits down in in the opening scene of TG:M.

As Mav is a Maverick in most aspects of his life, I thought it was perfect for Mav to be left-handed—and as Tom himself is left-handed, it couldn’t get more perfect.

The F-14 is notable as being quite large as fighter jets go, and she is practically impossible to miss in the sky, once within visual range; and she is sometimes called the Flying Tennis Court, a nickname she shares with the McDonnell Douglas/Boeing F-15 Eagle.

Bradley and Mav living in what is essentially the same house, having bought a duplex together, is something I can see them doing after they reconcile, because to me, these two are basically orange cats with separation anxiety, and I feel like they would be the epitome of healthy codependency, if that’s possible.

Mav power is a play on words/reference to the engine throttle conditions of fighter jets; Max power is the maximum engine power with afterburner (wet power), and MIL (which stands for Military) power is the maximum engine power without afterburner (dry power)

Do not quote me on this, but as I understand it, in the Navy, you don’t deploy all the time.

There are years you are given a land-based assignment, like Bradley being assigned to TOPGUN, before you are put back on ship deployments for a similar amount of years.

TL;DR: Deployment cycles in the Navy have you rotating between ship-based assignments and land-based assignments every few years.

NAS Sigonella

“Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band

I chose this song because of this piece of art by @woodsywarbler, and “Abracadabra” is my favorite song by The Steve Miller Band, despite the really creepy lyrics.

A death spiral is this little bit of crazy pilot shit, as shown in TG:M. (Timestamp 7:34)

Nomex is the flame-resistant material which flight suits are made of, and it’s also what Mav’s green jacket is made of.

Doritos came out in 1964, plenty of time for Bradley, ‘80s baby that he is, to develop a yen for them.

(Flight) Profile: a graphical timeline of the operational characteristics, configurations, and speeds of an aircraft along a flight path in a specific phase of flight or maneuver.

FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition (or Repair, people argue which word the last letter is)

Fortress of Solitude

Ghostrider was Mav and Merlin’s operational callsign during the Layton Mission, and again, do not quote me on this, but you get to keep the operational callsigns you received during notable missions, a detail alluded to in the TG:M screenplay, so Mav uses it here to psych himself up.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[gordisaquaberrymodel]

Some more OCs

I couldn’t help myself and created new Bully OCs. Can’t stop my mind from creating new characters lol.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, meet Katherine (Kate) and Frederick (Fred) Baker. They’re twins and they’re jocks. They moved to Bullworth to their uncle from Kansas after their parents died in a car accident when they were 10 years old. Fred has been involved in sports since childhood, and Kate started in high school. They are siblings, who often quarrel and cannot share something. Sometimes they act like enemies. But in reality they worry and care about each other.

Kate (17):

She loves sports so much, she almost lives for it.

She is very cheeky and strong-willed girl by nature. Sometimes she likes to cause troubles and pranks, her favorite holiday - Halloween.

Kate is openly bisexual. She flirts with both girls and boys without shame (but for the most part she is not particularly interested in romantic relationships).

She has been swimming since childhood, but when she started studying in Bullworth Academy she switched to physical training and sports games.

Her secret hobby - video games and horror movies.

She doesn’t care about the hierarchy and cliques at school, she makes friends with those she considers cool.

She is the life of the party, you will never get bored with her.

She puts all of herself into sports, but sometimes she worries about her studies.

Kate is not a fan of all sorts of girly stuff (cosmetics, romance, etc), which is why she is more comfortable with boys.

Unlike other girls, she seems to be on Lola’s side, not at all condemning her behavior. “Girl just wants to have fun, that’s all”

Relationships with characters/cliques:

Main trio: Sometimes hangs out with Jimmy. She has a warm relationship with Pete and often protects him from bullying. She has a negative attitude towards Gary, they almost enemies to each other.

Nerds: Treats them as neutrally as possible and does not even try to bully them (she is categorically against bullying).

Bullies: She is on good terms with them, although she condemns their behavior. Friends: Trent (they’re blonde bi besties), Tom, Wade, Russell.

Preps: The only clique she would have completely despised if she hadn’t become friends with Justin (actually secretly in love with him) and Gord (she finds him quite funny and interesting bacause of his love for clothes and fashion, which other boys didn’t have).

Greasers: She is quite friendly with them, she likes their clothing and hairstyles (sometimes she can borrow a jacket from Vance). Friends: Vance, Norton, Ricky.

Jocks: Of course on better terms with them, although she condemns them for bullying nerds. Friends: Kirby (bi besties, again), Dan, Casey, Mandy (at first, they had a tense relationship due to the fact that all jocks liked Kate, they drooled over her, but she immediately assured that she was not interested in this and was not at all trying to steal Mandy’s popularity).

Townies: She has not had much contact with them, Kate only knows Zoe, with whom she is very close friends (they’re besties).

∘₊✧—————————————————————————————————✧₊∘

Fred (17):

He is quite serious person unlike his sister.

Fred treats his studies responsibly even if sports comes first for him.

Despite his seriousness and a certain coldness, he can sometimes be a cheerful person.

You can trust him with any secret, any emotional experiences.

Loves baseball since childhood.

Sometimes it seems to him that he is an older brother, even though he and Kate are twins (due to the fact that she often behaves like a child).

Hates silence, feeling uncomfortable being in it.

Can sometimes act like an asshole, but in his heart he is really completely different.

He’s not interested in bullying nerds, he treats them neutrally.

Relationships with characters:

Basically he always stays close to jocks. His friends: Casey, Ted (he admires him so much, trying to be like him), Luis, Bo, Mandy (it seems he’s a little bit in love with her).

Fred is also friends with Bullies, like his sister (in fact, she made him friends with them).

He is neutral towards nerds.

He can’t stand preps (and he’s often reproaches his sister for being friends with some of them).

Fred treats greasers with a certain condescension, considers them ridiculous because of their style.

He had only heard about townies and tried not to encounter them.

[yourbustedkneecaps]

thinkin ab Peter being adopted by Tony or Tony admitting to seeing Peter as a son and just… Peter feels the same way and he’s honestly just so ecstatic about it and then Tony or someone asks if Pete is ever going to call him “dad” and Peter just breaks.

he hasn’t called anyone “dad” in years even if he technically had a father figure after Richard and Mary died. Uncle Ben was amazing and was a great father, but he was always “Uncle Ben”, not “dad”.

Peter thinks he’s ruined something (or himself) when he tries to explain to Tony that he doesn’t feel like he can call him “dad” even though he kinda wants to. He starts crying and freaking out trying to get Tony to understand, terrified he might just lose him over something so stupid but he can’t he just can’t and he doesn’t know why.

(He’s aware that Tony has history with Howard, aka “Mr Stark”, and thinks he might’ve hurt Tony by referring to him as such and reminding him of his shitty father.)

Tony immediately jumps in saying he doesn’t give a hot diggity shit what Peter calls him or why so long as he knows he feels happy and safe and loved in whatever friendly/familial relationship they have together. he doesn’t care bc this is Peter, his fucking kid, and if his kid feels uncomfortable or unsafe calling him anything other than “Mr Stark” then he’ll wear that title with fucking honor and pride and love for his kid bc nothing else matters.

““yOuR sOn CaLLs yOu, Mr StArK—?” shut the hell up or i’ll make you, you fucking asshat douchecanoe. badmouth my kid again and i’ll show you what burnt human flesh smells like.” — Tony Stark, probably

they end up cuddling on the couch with Peter burrowed into Tony’s chest refusing to look at him until he calms down and stops crying like a baby. Tony hushes him and pets his hair and rubs his back and just whispers and mutters bullshit the entire time about how everything is okay and how good a kid Peter is and how much he loves him as Peter and Spider-Man and his Intern and his son no matter what.

Tony calls Pete “son” rarely, but always when it counts and means something. Especially around dickhead strangers/villains. Peter probably won’t ever call Tony “dad”, but Tony doesn’t need to hear the title to know who he is to his kid (Peter makes that very clear in his actions every day <3).

[ciaomarie]

Part 3: What Then?

This was supposed to be a three part series, but it will probably be 4 or 5 parts. Sydcarmy is a tangled mess of intense care interlaced with anxiety and denial. So they need HELP from their friends and family along the way! Here's a convo with Natalie and Carmen. It takes place just a few days after he found out that he'd made Sydney's best meal ever. Then he inadvertently confessed she's the best part of his day and his heart's dearest wish...j/k, but not really ;)

On a brisk Monday afternoon Carmen rang the bell at Pete and Natalie's home. The doorbell's speaker answered back, with Natalie's hurried voice. "It's open Bear! Just come up to the nursery." He entered their home noting the new family photos hanging on the wall leading up the stairs. They were black and white shots with Pete and Nat walking into the hospital, the next just after Baby Angeline was placed in Natalie's arms, another with Pete and the baby, one shot of her curled bitty toes, and the last was all three of them in the hospital bed. Pete had hired a hospital photographer and as antithetical as that was to anyone with an ounce of Berzatto blood, Natalie let him do it. The result was so unexpectedly tender and beautiful that he paused on the stairs to soak it in. Pete is really a good guy. He was made from an entirely different mold than any man Carmy had grown up around. "Carm?!" Natalie called. "Coming." He turned into the nursery to find Natalie bundling up "Angie" and fastening her into one of those baby slings. Then with one fluid motion before he could speak, she slipped the sling over his shoulders. "Okay, Uncle she's yours!" "So, how does this work?" he asked, looking down at his tiny niece, his eyes as big as beach balls. Angie blinked back at him extremely unbothered.

Natalie rolled her eyes and chortled.

"It's already working. It's fool-proof! Okay, let me get my coat and we'll head out." They strolled down the older suburb's tree-lined streets past others pushing babies, walking dogs, and the occasional Amazon delivery truck. "Carmy, this is really nice and you're welcome to drop by anytime, but what did you want to talk about?" Natalie enquired. He had texted her the other night asking to discuss something important. He kept his eyes on Angie's blissful little face, swallowed, and began. "I'd like to split my share of the restaurant with Syd. She's put in so much work, took several months without pay, and even though I'm the EC she's the main developer of at least half of the menu and the weekly specials. When I was sick recently, she ran the place like a pro. She deserves it. Also, I think if I give her a financial stake she'll stay for at least 5 years. We need that. What do you think?"

Natalie contemplated him for a moment. "Well, part of me agrees and the other part...Carmy, please don't get defensive." "Nat. How can I not when you’ve said that?" "Is this a solely a business decision? Because if it isn't I don't think you need to or should do this to keep her. " Carmy stopped walking, his face falling with frustration and shame. "Have you been talking to Richie?" Natalie stopped and took his arm in hers. "No, I haven't. Look, sorry. What I meant is things are so good between you two." They resumed walking. "Yeah, and that's a problem?" "Not at all. The way you are together...maybe it's the hormones but I've cried sometimes because you are just yourself with her. I've never seen you smile so much with anyone else. Your freakin’ posture is more relaxed when she comes in the room. I could go on, Bear." "You see all that? What about-what about her? Am I any good for her?" he asked in a low, wistful tone. Natalie pulled his arm tighter. She paused, to choose her words carefully. She and Camry were no strangers to family interference in their love lives. "Well, I haven't known Sydney that long, but she tends to spiral, and she pushes through until she's sick or lashes out. Kinda like you do. I noticed that it’s gotten better though. Since we opened, you've been consistently checking in with her, collaborating with her, encouraging her, making her take breaks, and pouring time into her. She's far less doubtful; she believes in herself."

Carm nodded slowly, reflecting on Sydney's growth. "Well, she deserves that. I promised her that she wasn’t alone in this. My focus was not where it should’ve have been during the reno and Friends and Family.”

He exhaled heavily and went on.  

“So, it sounds like she lights up my life and for her, I'm a good boss or even her big brother."

Natalie shook her head, smirking.

" Yeah, you’re a great boss now, but little sisters don't look at their brothers the way Sydney does you. Do you remember when we were all talking in my office and you spilled hot coffee on your shirt? You peeled it off and the poor girl looked at you, as your sister it pains me say this, like she wanted to jump you. When you left to get a clean shirt, she didn't remember what she had been saying." " What!?!? Okay...." Carm scoffed trying and failing to suppress a huge smile. "Also, does she ever leave before 11 instead of sitting in those greasy whites with you every single night for how long? One to two hours!?" She continued. "My point is if you want to divide your share with her because it's good business and fair, and I agree it is, then let me do it too so we're even. Otherwise, I think you’re already three-quarters of the way there with her. She doesn't need to be bought."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. "Natalie, I understand, but I still want to split my share. I think it’s the right thing to do. You don't need split yours though." "First I don't want the largest share of the restaurant and second.... Pete and I may move to be near his parents next year." Natalie bit her lip and glanced at Carmy worry etched in her brow.

"We think it would be good for Angie. You know, to be close to her grandparents and she'd have young cousins nearby too." Carm squeezed her arm, missing her already. "Yeah, I met them at the wedding. They were...Pete’s parents for sure. Angie would have a normal set of grandparents around." Natalie took a deep breath, a gamut of emotions crossing her face. "Choosing Pete was the biggest act of rebellion of my life. I honestly felt repulsed by him at first, until I realized that he was real, and I didn't have to be on guard all the time. Angeline should have that from the start." She bent over to kiss her baby's head which was protected from the cool air by a lilac-colored beanie. "Sydney's a really good choice too. Businesswise and/or otherwise. So, if you're certain about this call Uncle Cicero. This won't change anything with our loan repayment, but his lawyer could help draft a contract. Then we'll ask Sydney if she wants to accept and if she refuses...just give her one of those Sydney-land stares of yours."

Carmy groaned. "You did talk to Richie!"

Natalie erupted into a storm of giggles. Carmen dropped her arm.

"Look, he started it. I told him to chill, but that Sydney-land thing...You have an season pass, bro! It’s very cute though.”

Next time on "What Then?"- Sydney's workversary (work anniversary)