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419jhat · 2 months ago

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Getting Old With You

🎄 Steddie Christmas 🎄

Steve deals with getting older by realizing he wants to be a Santa and Eddie is just along for the ride

It starts when Steve blows out his back with a sneeze.

“Babe, you're fine. This is life, we get older and we stop working like we used to,” Eddie says.

“I’m dying,” Steve says dramatically. Eddie rolls his eyes as he rubs his back. “I'm one step closer to death. Buy me a coffin, I'm basically useless.”

“You're thirty-three,” Eddie deadpans.

Steve spends the rest of his week having a mid-midlife crisis, calling Robin for support because nobody else seems to understand. Well, Robin doesn't either but she makes him feel a little better about it.

“Why don't you start working out again? You used to be really fit in high school,” she suggests.

Steve looks down at himself, wondering when he let himself get so out of shape.

“Oh God,” Robin says, “I can hear you thinking. This is going to become a thing. Just forget what I said, you look fine-”

Steve gets a gym membership.

First, he runs. Then, he makes some friends and starts lifting. Next thing he knew, he was in a Pilates class working on his flexibility, which Eddie appreciates very much.

He feels pretty great about himself and attributes his aches and pains to the price of sticking to the gym. Max makes fun of him when she catches him flexing but he doesn't even care, because he's a little proud of his progress. Eddie thinks it's stupid when he starts tracking his food, but comes up with wacky recipes to get in that extra protein.

Then, on one horrible day, Dustin walks downstairs and says, “is that a gray hair?”

The room goes silent. Robin sends him a dirty look.

“No fucking way, Henderson. It's got to be a trick of the light,” he says, as he rushes to the bathroom. He makes Eddie angle a hand mirror into the wall mirror so he can see the back of his own head and gasps with horror when he sees that not only is Dustin correct, but his hair is also thinning.

The horror.

Dustin tries to backpedal, but it's too late. Pandora's Box has been opened. Steve has begun to lose his personal war against aging.

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking God, Ed, is that a bald spot!?”

Eddie looks closely, and says carefully, “I think it's always looked like that.”

“WHAT!?”

“I mean, no! I think. I don't know!”

“You look at me every day and you don't know if I'm balding!?”

“You look as hot as ever!” Eddie says.

HairGate leads to all sorts of products piling up on the bathroom counter. Steve stops wearing hats, because he's heard that they can mess with your hairline. Eddie puts his foot down when he wants those prenatal vitamins that are supposed to help promote hair growth because, “Steve, you're not pregnant.”

This is a dumb reason in Steve's eyes but he agrees because he doesn't want Robin to find them and tease him about it. He keeps working out, adding to his routine. Lathers himself in lotion and sunscreen, because he thinks the crows feet in the corners of his eyes are a little too prominent.

When he's forty-five, his parents die. He gets the call about his dad on an already shitty weekend and the next about his mother three months later. Their funeral is difficult. Eddie holds his hand the whole way through, and Steve takes in his husband's gray hairs and how they won't be able to stick together forever, like they'd promised. The stress of it all makes him drop the gym. He tries to start up again but it's shockingly difficult after such a short break that he leaves, embarrassed with an ache in his left knee. Robin stays with them for a bit, and he wonders what he would do without her. How the pain of losing either of them would probably take him like it took his mother.

He decides to grow out his beard. Maybe change can be good.

On his fiftieth birthday, the party walks around him on eggshells, like he's about to lose it. Logically, he knows he's being ridiculous. He can't *not* age. He has to deal with his own sense of mortality eventually. But he just doesn't want to. He, maybe ridiculously, finds it unfair that he's stuck in a body that doesn't work like it used to. That he looks in the mirror and feels like time flew by without a warning. That the fragility of life feels more prominent than ever.

He's cutting the cake when Lucas and Max’s youngest, a baby with lovely dark curls, points at Steve and says, “Santa?”

The room goes quiet.

“Laura, that's Uncle Steve!” Lucas says with the kind of embarrassed laugh a parent gives when their kid does something stupid. Steve looks down at himself. He's wearing a red sweater. His stomach is a little pudgy since giving up the gym. He knows his hair has turned into whatever the equivalent of salt and pepper is for brunettes, but his beard was always prone to more grays than the rest of him. He looks at little Laura’s smile, and how excited she seems.

“Isn't that her first word?” he asks.

“Uh,” Lucas says.

“Oh my God, Laura! Your first word! Santa Steve!” Max cackles.

Steve reaches his arms out to hold Laura and smiles wickedly, a tinge of pride in his chest when she giggles and grabs at his face.

“HA!” he says, “she likes me more!”

“Of course she does, you're the guy who lets her do whatever she wants,” Lucas grumbles. But he's smiling and so is everyone else.

The idea sticks in Steve's head. He and Eddie go to the mall that Christmas to browse presents and they always do, and Steve watches the Mall Santa for a moment longer than necessary. Eddie ducks into a store and he's walking over to the guy dressed as an elf before he can even think about it.

“Uh, you have to wait in line,” the guy says.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to ask, how much does being a Santa pay?”

The guy looks a little surprised.

“I'm not sure, but it's definitely above minimum wage. It's a seasonal thing and kind of hard to do, so they definitely get paid more than the elves,” he said with a little laugh.

“Really? It's hard? Don't you just have to talk to kids all day?”

Steve's a teacher and he volunteers at the community center. He's very accustomed to talking to children. Kind of an expert in it, really.

“Oh, no way dude. Chris speaks three languages and knows sign language,” he says, gesturing to the Santa with a thumb, “you have to have the laugh, the beard, and you have to go to Santa school-”

“Santa school?” Steve interrupts.

“Yeah, it's actually pretty competitive.”

Steve wonders for a moment if he's being pranked. Then, he spots Eddie waiting for him behind the massive line of children, looking confused.

“Isn't that cool?” Steve asks, a little excited.

“Standing in line to take pictures?” Eddie asks.

“No, babe, look how happy the kids are. It's so sweet! And the guy who plays Santa is super qualified. I had no idea that they had to go to school for it. Did you know that?”

“Wow, that's pretty intense,” Eddie says.

Steve watches Chris the Santa bring a smile to the face of everyone he looks at, and wonders.

“Steve? Are you ok?” Eddie asks.

“I want to do that,” Steve says. “I want to be that.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie looks completely bewildered. But Steve feels like he’s had an epiphany.

“I want to be a Santa when I get old! I could be the kind of Santa that visits kids in the hospital or the kids at the community center, since they don't get to go to the mall that much. I could be the kind of Santa that makes people happy anywhere!”

“Wait so let me get this straight. You want to have white hair and stuff?” Eddie asks.

“I mean, it is inevitable,” Steve says with a shrug, like he hasn't been fighting exactly that for the last two decades.

“That's great! I love it! I could get out my old drag stuff and be your Ms. Clause,” Eddie says, but he looks like he's hesitating over something. After a moment, he turns back to the store he'd just been at.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

“Returning your Christmas present, since you've completely flipped your priorities about ageing,” Eddie says. Steve grabs his hand and pulls him to stop.

“Listen, I said it was inevitable. Not that it had to happen right away,” Steve mutters, and Eddie laughs. Maybe there's something to look forward to when he gets old after all.

#stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #christmas steddie #eddie x steve

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astarion-approves · 1 year ago

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Peeping Tav Astarion X Male Tav

A master at his kink, Tav found a new target of his dreams. The tall, pale, and handsome ‘Astarion.' A chef that works long hours, with a body built of marble, and a home filled with easily accessible windows. But Tav may have bitten off more than he can chew. Will he be able to see his target in all of his glory? Or will he become the one that's targeted? Part 1 of ?

NSFT, Peeping, Peeping Tom, Kinks, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era, Hand Jobs, flesh light, chef Astarion, Anal Fingering, POV First Person

Read below or read on Ao3

Hello, my name is Tav and I’m addicted to peeping.

Most would agree that peeping is a disgusting habit, and they would be right. Call it what you want, Peeping Tom, Ogler, Rubberneck, Onlooker, Voyeur, and so on. I’ve tried to stop, many times, but it’s just so damn addictive. Watching a stranger undress, them unknowingly giving me a show while I jerk off right outside their window?

There’s no better feeling.

Just knowing that they have no idea I’m right there , hiding in a tree or crouching in some bushes, maybe even standing there with no coverage at all… and I’m hard as a rock, my free hand over my mouth as I cover any moans that may slip through as I pleasure myself to their naked body. Eyeing them up and down as they become comfortable in their home, a place that they consider safe but it’s anything but.

And it wasn’t as if I was your ‘typical’ peeper. Normally I would just go out a few times a week, not every night like some of the guys I knew. On top of that; I wouldn’t upload my recordings online like some creep, that content was only meant to be enjoyed in my own home. Where, ironically enough, I close my blinds. Plus, I looked alright for the most part. My clothes fit well, I was in decent shape, and I’ve been told that I was good looking. Shaggy brown hair, light green eyes, and little dimples. What more could you love? Well… maybe minus the whole peeping part, but really, you’d never suspect me. Just look at me, friendly as ever, not a man that stands outside your window and jerks off!

Right. Moving on...

Peeping starts off simply enough.

First, I find a target. Someone handsome, preferably in great shape with plenty of muscle, and a nice plump bottom. I could find them anywhere, at the store, the park, a movie theater, even just walking down the street. I keep myself open to new opportunities.

I tend to obsess over one person at a time, which comes to my second step: learning their basic schedule. What time they wake up, when they have breakfast or head to work, if they’re single or dating someone, what they do in their spare time - and most of all; where they undress in their home .

Thirdly, after doing my research, I plant myself outside their window and chase after the perfect orgasm. If their bedroom is on the second floor and they keep their blinds shut I’m shit out of luck. However , a single story home with plenty of windows is a real treat.

The perfect man, the perfect schedule, and a perfect home - it can be extremely difficult to find all three at once… sometimes you just have to settle.

But, god damn , if I haven’t found the most handsome man to follow these last few weeks.

His name is Astarion, even his name rolls off my tongue like something to be savored. A professional chef that works long hours but makes sure to fit in a quick workout at the gym around 3 o’clock everyday before he goes to work. He would always wear thick, dark clothing, covering his entire body, before changing into a semi revealing pair of shorts and sneakers. And then he would begin his workout.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve followed him to the gym, I even went so far as to get a membership myself just to watch him. I would walk on the treadmill with him directly in my view, my cock tucked up and into the waistband of my shorts to disguise myself as I grew hard just from watching him.

One day I'd have to thank him for helping me stay in shape.

The man’s body was like marble, carefully carved, smooth, and flawless. It was almost like he didn’t need to work out, that he was naturally built to look like a god among men. Thick thighs, a thin waist, a great set of abs, a delicious ass, and features so handsome that he made anyone he encountered swoon. His hair was as a cool silver in color and his skin was as light as snow, like a dusting of snowflakes that would shimmer from sweat that I ached to lick off him. It would make my mouth water as I watched him lift weights with ease, Astarion grunting when he added more weight and pushed himself harder… and all I could imagine were those grunts happening because of me.

It was becoming a fantasy of mine to straddle him as he worked out. To feel his length beneath my bottom, grinding on him as a reward for completing each and every set, then dragging him into the locker room to drop down onto my knees and finally get a taste of that hot, sweaty cock.

A cock which I have yet to get a proper view of, try as I might.

Astarion was a fan of speedy showers after his workout, ones that didn’t give me the opportunity to get a good look at anything besides his ass. Which, I’m not exactly complaining about. The desire to bury my face between those buns and have a full on feast was almost overwhelming. However, with his strength, his beauty, and his sweet soothing voice - I needed to see that dick. And his lightning fast showers in the gym showers weren't enough.

Tonight… I was determined to finally get a peek. I had a plan. A… well, a simple plan that burned a small hole in my wallet but would hopefully work out in the end.

At 5 o’clock in the afternoon Astarion would be heading to work. He wouldn’t return for a while, around eight to ten hours, depending how his shift went. He was a great chef by the way, always in control of his kitchen, serving delicate little dishes that cost almost a quarter of my rent. It was hard to believe that such strong hands could create such beautiful and delectable dishes…

Anyway…

After work, anywhere between 1 o’clock and 3 o’clock in the morning, he would head directly back to his home, an adorable little one story brick house with seemingly more windows than walls and enough large bushes to conceal anyone. Perfect for me, not so perfect for him. Astarion would jump in the shower, or so I assumed as it was the only room in the entire house with a fogged window, then, and this was the best part, Astarion would stroll around his home completely nude.

Did I mention how fucking gorgeous Astarion was?

It wasn't something he had always done, a more recent development really. And fuck how I loved it. In the beginning he would get dressed in the bathroom, throwing on some pajamas and a towel over his shoulder to continue drying his hair. But as the weather grew warmer, he began waltzing out through his home with nothing on. Only the towel over his shoulder on top of his head.

The only problem was, he never got close enough to the fucking window s. He was always moving, always doing something to prevent me from getting the view I so desired. I would film him night after night, hoping to record his dick up close and personal; but I was never so lucky.

If he was lying on the couch in his living room? The coffee table hid him.

Sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea? His legs were crossed.

Resting in bed while he scrolled through his phone? The towel was over his lap.

It was torture. Slow, painful, blueballs for weeks: torture .

At one point, I considered knocking on his door myself, hoping that he wouldn’t cover up and would just answer the door with his dick out. I quickly gave up on that idea when he received a late night delivery and threw on a pair of shorts. Which he kept on the rest of the night and I went home more frustrated than ever.

A few other times he would have different women over at his place at random hours. Either bringing them home with him or they would show up just as the sun was beginning to rise. Seriously, who agrees to a one night stand at nearly six am? …. Okay , I would. With Astarion that is. Really… I’m just being jealous.

Well, whenever they showed up, Astarion would always close the blinds, hiding their coupling from any possible prying eyes. Basically just me . And I would give up, not bothering to stick around to see them leave. I had no doubt they were leaving with wild sex hair and a blissed out ‘just fucked’ expression as they shuffled back home.

Again. I was jealous . But I’ve spent weeks trailing after this target, the longest amount of time I’ve ever spent watching a single person, and I was damn close to giving up. I can only chase after someone for so long before I just become exhausted . Astarion was worth it, holy fuck was he worth it , but I was getting more and more impatient as each night passed.

This entire time I’d never seen him jerk off. Which was… unusual . Most single men were taking any chance they got to take care of those urges. But not Astarion. Maybe it was because of the women he brought home? But even then that was only once or twice every few weeks... Or perhaps he was fulfilling those urges in the morning after I’d gone home for the night? Either way, I needed to see him, I needed to see him fuck his own hand and finish all over his stomach and fat pecs.

So, a few days ago, I ordered a special delivery for Astarion and prayed that he would… partake in what I sent. Straight porn, gay porn, lesbian porn, videos and magazines, butt plugs, a fleshlight, flavored lube, regular lube, hell I even sent massage wands. Anything to get this man to touch himself with the blinds open and in a perfect view just for me .

He saw the package on his door as soon as he got home that night, his brows dipping down in confusion as he read his own name on the label before carrying it inside. I was practically giddy as I watched him forgo his shower and unbox everything in his living room instead. He was confused as ever as he pulled out each item. He studied everything as they were revealed, even flipping through each magazine and shaking his head in disbelief as he did.

I didn’t miss the small twitch of his thin lips when he flipped and paused through the gay magazine. He paused and kept looking through it! Score!

And then out came the clear flesh light.

The way his eyes lit up was one of the most adorable reactions I’ve ever seen. As if this was never an option for him, that he never even considered using a toy like this to pleasure himself. For a moment, it was like the heavens opened before me. A light shined through the window and embraced Astarion in a glow that could only be described as angelic as he began to remove his clothing. His strong arms gripping the bottom of his shirt and lifting it above his head and throwing it to the floor, his long and elegant fingers quickly unbuttoning his slacks as he yanked them down -

And then.

There it was.

A dick worth waiting for.

It hung gently against his thigh, soft and relaxed, a little darker than the rest of his body, a touch of pink at the tip like the most perfect rose - and it was everything that I imagined. Astarion sat back down onto his couch, directly in front of his window, and uncaring of any eyes that could see as he reached for his new toy and a bottle of one of the lubes.

I chewed my lip and slipped my hand down to the waistband of my joggers and carefully pulled them down to expose myself to the cool night air. I was already hard, my cock sensitive to the touch from my own hand due to lack of use. But finally, finally , all of my work would pay off.

Astarion poured a generous amount of lube over his shaft, pumping himself lightly until he came to full thickness. I found myself sneaking closer to the window, Astarion's eyes were pointed down and to the magazine beside him - if I stayed quiet and still out of his view… it would be easy to get away with.

But I wasn't so sure I could hold back once Astarion slipped the flesh light down onto himself.

He let his head drop back and let out a loud, needy moan; so loud I could hear it outside with his decorative bushes between us. Astarion moved his hand slowly, allowing himself to indulge wholly into the pleasure the toy could offer him. His grip would tighten around the toy as he worked it up and over the tip of his dick, and then loosen as he brought it back down to the base.

The toy was too small for him, I learned this after Astarion began to fuck it with a little more desperation. As he brought it all the way down his length, the upper half would pop though the top, revealing his glistening tip which was now turning a deep red as he continued to jerk himself off.

My own hand was moving to match Astarion's as he fucked into the toy, now with his eyes closed and no longer looking at the magazine. This was a moment that would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life… the most gorgeous man before me, gasping and moaning, his hips beginning to lift off the couch and fuck even harder into the toy I've provided for him -

" Fuck ," I moaned, my voice quiet but I couldn't hold back any longer, it slipped out of me. I was so close to finishing, so close to shooting my load all over Astarion's bushes just outside his window, my first orgasm in weeks right there and ready to blow. For a moment, a quick brief second , I closed my eyes as I nearly finished–

And when I looked back to where Astarion sat: he was gone.

My hand stilled, fear enveloping my body as I frantically scanned the now empty living room in front of me. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Even the fleshlight was missing, meaning he was in such a hurry he took it with him.

My moan must have alerted Astarion, he most likely saw me outside his window with my dick out and about to apply a fresh layer of white to his house. I knew that Astarion was fast, and that more than likely he was sprinting for his cellphone and about to call the police. If I moved fast enough, I could have my pants jerked back up and get to my car before they arrived–

"And what do we have here…?"

I froze, my entire frame unable to move as a cool body pressed against my back. One hand appeared on my left hip before sliding under my shirt and coming to rest on my stomach. A warm breath cascaded down my throat as he spoke again.

"Don't let me ruin your fun, darling. Keep going."

Words were lost, the ability to move was gone, my breathing short and labored, everything inside of me telling me to run. But I couldn't. There was nothing I could do as my target stood behind me, teasing me, knowing that I was completely at Astarion’s mercy.

There was no telling what his plan was. If I were to keep going would he drag me into the street and call me a pervert? Was he secretly recording me and planning on exposing my dirty kink to the world?

"Relax," Astarion purred into my ear, chucking as he slowly slid his hand down my stomach and stopped just before my groin. "I won't bite."

"I'm sor–" I tried to speak, to blurt out some kind of apology; but Astarion shushed me before anything could be said.

"Hush. I think it's only fair I get to play with you now… wouldn't you agree?" Before I could register what was happening, Astarion was yanking my joggers down to the ground and slipping my dick into his used fleshlight.

" Oh ." Astarion gave me no time to react, his right hand gently swiping the toy up and down over my cock while his free hand moved even lower to massage my balls as he jerked me off.

"Feel good?" Astarion asked, his voice dipping lower, turned on, needy, almost out of breath and it was because of me.

I nodded, my mouth hanging open but words still far, far away from me as I allowed Astarion to work my length with his skilled hands. He gave me pleasure the same way he had to himself, slow at first, focusing on my tip and applying careful, gentle pressure as he eased my cock in and out of the toy.

"Such a pretty little human." Astarion's cock was hot and heavy resting against my back, although he was dressed now, I could feel his length pressing into my lower back as he forced me into his chest.

Wait, 'human' ?

Astarion peeled his left hand away from my balls, leaving me panting and missing the feeling of his hands massaging me there–

And then his hand was on my ass, easing between my cheeks and pressing a single finger against my entrance. I almost buckled over, gasping as he softly caressed my hole with a slicked fingertip.

"Oh, you dirty boy. You love that, don't you?"

" Yes ," I hissed as he managed to slip the tip of his middle finger inside. It has been so long, far too long, since I've touched my own ass. And now Astarion, my perfect target of all people, was the first to touch me in months.

"So… tight," Astarion spoke almost as if he was in disbelief. The back of my shirt was damp from his precum, only turning me on further as I felt his dick twitching and rubbing on his cool precum all over my back.

I was close again. As much as I fought it… it was impossible to hold back any longer. I was trying to savor Astarion's touch as he worked my dick and fingered my ass, it was all too much. I was shaking in his arms, my hips weakly pushing forward and back, trying to get as much of Astarion's lubed finger up my ass and as much pressure over my cock head to finally cum.

"Come on, cum for me," Astarion whispered into my ear, his lips bushing over my skin as he spoke. His middle finger reached as deeply as it could, titling up and pressing against the bundle of nerves that made me break.

I threw my body back against him, my hips jerking wildly as I finished into the fleshlight. Cum spilled over the top of the toy and down the sides until it coated Astarion's fingers leaving a dirty mess behind. Astarion groaned alongside me, his head ducking into my neck and biting down harshly as my cum cascaded down his knuckles….

------

Let me know if we need a part two ;P

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gojuo · 7 months ago

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To be fair, most wigs suck. It doesn't help that the hairstyles are a disappointment. Like, Rhaenyra's hair, she expected elaborate braids like Dany in the later seasons, but she's almost always just hanging lifelessly in a few sad braids.

Poor Rhaena and Baela get the short straw even in this, not only do they have the worst wigs, but they only have two hairstyles, down or huge shapeless buns piled on top of their heads. Rhaenys has at least improved from the weird cone-head-shaped half-updo of the first season, small victories.

Even Helaena has floppy hair now. Where are mom's pretty curls? The only person who serves looks from the first day is Alicent. Those luxurious auburn curls, beautiful, chef's kiss 🥰.

you're right, the wigs are bad which is then compounded by shitty unimaginative hairstyles and a sore lack of hair accessories/jewelry in a time where targaryens are at the height of their power + at their wealthiest. it's so maddening because i just don't understand why a multi million dollar production is so bad in the hair and costuming department !!!! i def think baela got an upgrade this season but it's just ringlets up to her shoulders. it's boring. rhaena is .... my god her hair doesn't even look like it has locs instead it looks like the straw ends of a broom!! helaena and rhaenyra and rhaenys aren't better either, it's all just lame braids taking the front pieces of hair out of everyone's faces then placed randomly at the back of the skull and NO accessories at all! and all the hair stops at the waist too like come on this is a fantasy show AND it's wigs!! why is everyone's hair stopping at their shoulderblades!! why is the hair of my royal ladies not falling down to their butts and beyond!!! why is it all pin straight!! it's not even prettily wavy either!!! no crowns or gemstones interwoven with the braids either!! it's so boring!! literally just add some gold trinkets in the hair + tight curls + thicker and longer hair, i am on my knees begging at this point 😩😩😩

they really could have done so much more with the afro hair but they refuse to. they had the perfect opportunity with rhaena's locs to add some gold hoops or beads or something, anything of the like!! something to break up the monotony of the hairstyle and to just show off the targ wealth! she's literally a targ princess!!! why does she look like she doesn't have 100 maids at her disposal?! just anything like this would have sufficed like look at the material... why does it look like nobody in this royal family takes care of their hair...

and the white girls suffer from having straight hair made worse by the most plain if not downright lifeless hairstyles. everyone has a braid that pulls back the front pieces. the rest of the straight/not even fully wavy loose hair that stays unbraided just goes down to their shoulderblades while looking like it hasn't seen a drop of oil like ever. what the fuck. this is hbo, why are the hairstyles this ugly !!!!! why can't we have gold jewelry and tight curls and colorful ribbons braided into their hair which should be cascading down their backs like silver veils instead of stopping short at the shoulders? and the hair is so thin and lifeless too! why is everything in the hair and costuming department so lackluster? just weaving 2 or 3 tight braids together in opposing directions does not make for a pretty look! it might be intricate but it looks downright ugly. they are the ROYAL family where the fuck is all their hair accessories and jewelry at???? WHERE IS THE HAIR OIL ??????????

instead we get this crap..... BORINGGG

#hotd #trying to find a non ai photo on pinterest is a nightmare #hotd critical #this shows hair and costuming is a disappointment but i also never much liked got's hair and costuming either. so im used to it i guess #anonymous #answered

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rookiesbookies · 1 year ago

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Saw this tiktok https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8xG488k/ how would the 141 guys feel about reader getting it done as a surprise for them?

First off Imma do this fast since it’s a holiday one and they’re almost over.

Secondly, they’re all giggling their asses off but I’ll do you one better I’d do if the reader got it and if the guys got it and for the guys I’ll tell you which one they’d get.

Here’s the link to the tiktok (the link is wrong now and i lost the og video)

Deck the Pubes

Name is a work in progress

Price

You get it:

He’s fully belly laughing so hard he can barely breath. He thinks it’s the greatest thing. Definitely stuffing his face in it. He can’t get over it.

They Get it:

He’s getting the Grinch. He’s always trying to tame the bush but it grows out in the night anyway. He’d have to get done an hour before to get it to stay trimmed. But painting his hair green? That was something he could do. He did the paint all the way up his happy trail. It was edible paint because he knew you may want to get your face all in it. Definite is doing it next year.

Soap

You get it:

He’s giggling while he has his face between your legs. He’s definitely doing that next year. Snagging polaroids for when he goes on missions. He’s definitely telling the boys you did this.

They Get it:

Mistletoe. He’s going to tell you that you need to kiss it. He wiggled it saying things like, “come on bonnie, just a little kiss for ‘im. He misses you.” He'd commit and dye it. I feel like it would be really bad, you can see where the red stained his skin. He’s hair would also probably grow back fast and dark too like Price’s but to Soap it just means he wont have to worry about his bad dye job for long.

Ghost

You get it:

He’s not the biggest fan of christmas so he still think it was funny. He probably would sit you down and explain why christmas isn’t something hugely important to him. Definitely appreciates it though.

They Get it:

If he did it. It would be because he’s done a lot of healing or you had a shitty time at work and watching to surprise you. He’d get The Gift (lil bow shape) and bc his hair is (in my mind) finer and blonde he would have to dye it but it would last a lot longer. Could totally see Soap seeing it in the group showers and being like “OH MY GOD ME TOO” or making jokes about it just for Simon to smack him upside the head or smt.

Konig

You get it:

He’s flattered. Definitely tracing the shape with his fingers. Kissing around it, telling you that you didn’t need to wax/shave for him bc he likes you no matter what.

They Get it:

If he got it he’d get “the tree topper” (angel wings and a halo). He probably wouldnt be committed enough to dye it, he'd later shave it all off anyway. Definitely doesnt want you getting hair between your teeth, however he does learn you may like the friction against your clit when he’s balls deep. Definitely tried to shave the shape and cut himself. He would have gone to get the shape waxed but he didnt want to be judged or have to answer questions.

Keegan

You get it:

He thinks it’s awesome. Probably prefers it bare but he thinks spicing it up with the cute little shape is great. Definitely kissing around where it was waxed.

They Get it:

Bro would do the snowman. He wouldn’t dye it, but he definitely would be cracking jokes. Probably got it waxed so it’s all extra smooth. I feel like when he can he waxes. Idk. Definitely makes you give the snowman a kiss and is making Frosty jokes the whole time. Would use body paint to paint his balls to look like jingle bells I cant explain why but I feel it in my soul.

Gaz

You get it:

He’s tickled. Probably told you to tell him so you could be matching. Definitely insists you both need to match next year or get related ones for fun.

They Get it:

He’d get the christmas tree. It wouldnt dye it but he’d probably get like chalk hair color and try to put it on? His hair is so thick and curly he had to cut it short so it held shape but he was super excited to surprise you. He saw Soap tease Ghost so he’s def waxing the rest of it off with an at home kit after. But he definitely had fun with it.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always and requests are open.

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t-allyitup · 7 months ago

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erm ... draft of high school/ya designs for the rest of the cul de sac that i haven't sketched yet . nazz, jonny, jimmy, sarah specifically. i'll do the kankers soon maybe ? idk

some notes:

jonny: i really wanted jonny with cornrows/braids to work but it doesn't really align with my personal image of him so i did a test sketch and decided i didn't like it. his natural hair is just gonna flow. his shirt is a fela kuti shirt with the neckline cut off so it sits more loose, and i can honestly see him lounging in sweats and pj pants a lot. he def wears lots of bleach dyed shirts and muscle tanks imo. shoes could either be some of those sherpa lined ox blood red timbs or super beat up yellow slip on vans ... im undecided. he has some piercings and probably pulls a frank ocean and dyes his hair green and gets a buzz cut eventually too. i drew him with piercings but im not really a fan of how it turned out so im ignoring those. i personally hc jonny as aroace, just to mention

nazz: i have an hc or i guess just in my universe nazz is korean-american and dyes her hair like beabadoobee (platinum blonde with grown out roots) and maybe has some electric blue streaks in her hair. she has freckles and a septum piercing and bangle bracelets and wears chokers (i forgot to draw these tho oops). she likes bootcut jeans and halter tops... she def goes braless imo ik thats a weird hc but idk i think she's soooo early 2000s in lots of her lore so it mAkes sense. i wish i had drawn her less skinny, in my head she's more midsize and like pear shaped ig but with thinner forearms and calves. also want to note that her eye makeup is meant to be sharp and exaggerated ... i feel like looking back on this it looks like i made her eyes a very over-exaggerated almond shape but i didn't mean for them to come out that sharp i suppose

sarah: tallllllllllllllllllllllllll asf ! wears a lot of denim shorts and converse. i also think a lot of her little stylistic notes play off of nazz, i have a theory that nazz is like a big sister figure to her and she subconsciously picks up stuff that nazz does because she admires her so much (or nazz gives her stuff/shops with her! i like that better) for example the bangle bracelets, chokers, dark denim, choppy bangs yk. in my head sarah is always wearing chucks and she ofc has her big a$$ mouth. i think she gets braces too

jimmy: crack design bc i got tired but he gets that white boy fade and his ears pierced, skinny jeans and big hoodie, birkenstock boston clogs, probably wears his shirts fitted and cut just above his waist cuz he's a lil slimey like that. lost the headgear but still has braces and an expanded, maybe also got some sort of jaw surgery for his teeth cuz they were fawked

#ed edd n eddy #eene fanart #eene jonny #eene nazz #eene sarah #eene jimmy #cul de sac kids #re-design/au design not my characters tho #idk. i'm tired. hope this is cool

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ccoffii · 10 months ago

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Eleceed Redesign Pt 2

Hi, I’m back to be annoying with my headcanons again. I rlly should be studying. Again, this is for FUNNNN I ain't fixing shit it's more like how I would draw them.

I also redesigned the bestie crew so look at that too after this one teehee.

Starting off with the one who doesn’t even look like the same person.

I noticed this webcomic rlly likes to repeat hairstyles, I mean Jiyoung has the same hair as Lia and Iseul has the same thing just short.

I have not though about how Jiyoung would get the scar on her chest, but all I know is that at one point she had a phase like Jisuk and that's how she got it. Instead of seeing it as ugly tho I want her to think of it as a badge of honour.

I do not care if her outfit is inconvenient she looks cool af.

The white streak in her hair was because of Jisuk, I didn't think that far after that I just wanted them to kinda match.

I like the think she also has a rebellious streak but she's better at hiding it.

I actually don't mind Kayden and Kartein's designs, I just made some changes based on some adjustments I would make.

I made his ass built like a Dorito cause body shape is also included in silhouette which is important for character design :)

based on what I said about Jiwoo's clothes in my last post I decided to make it a reality. My friend also told me I should have a button on his shirt holding on for dear life.

Messier hair because he a heads and shoulders 4 in 1 type of guy. Also it helps sell his personality more at first glance.

His black outfit is base on the SOLIDER uniform from FF7, I didn't really have any ideas so it's' in the works. I kept the monochrome black palette for now since it goes so well with Kartein but I'll change that later.

Ear piercings just because.

Yes, Kartein makeup is for everyone. I didn't change much about him either

I gave him short hair because I couldn't think up a good long hair style for him. Also, half slicked back hair because it makes him look fancy.

Gay Earring because he got his hair slicked back, it may be a gift from a certain someone considering how simple it is.

Monochrome white for him still! Like Kayden, I want to make more outfits where he has more colour.

his mole is only there bc I like it when characters have it there and there was also a stray line art marking I couldn't find the layer of and was too lazy to find it.

a little pendant tie thing because I think it looks cool and again may be from a certain someone

I noticed that Kayden and Kartein would be hard to tell apart if it was only their silhouettes and no black and white contrast to the suit and coat along with hair change help with telling them apart.

A fanfic may be in order, but that will be after I crawl out of exam hell. Also, I am well aware some of these designs would be HELL to draw for a webcomic, don't take it seriously lol.

#eleceed #character redesign #artists on tumblr #eleceed fanart #eleceed webtoon #headcanon #i need to stop procrastinating #just yappin #kayden break #kartein #jiyoung yoo #let me cook #Ocfied canon too hard #procreate #digital art #headcannons #if you squint #if you really squint #kayden x kartein

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foxesscramble · 2 months ago

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Advent Calendar: Day Twelve

Matching Sweaters - Watching the snow melt away - Royalty AU || "Are you alright?"

Katelyn Mackenzie x Aaron Minyard

@allforthegamebingo

________

Katelyn is having a good night. She had just finished her first semester at Palmetto State and finals were officially over and she may be a little tipsy. Her friends had dropped her off a block away from her dorm hall.

She’s not quite watching where she’s going, too busy looking around and making sure she doesn’t get kidnapped on her two minute walk from the cab to her apartment. Normally they would drop her at the dorm but she and her other friend had both gotten out to avoid having to stop at too many places due to the cab fare.

Too busy looking around she completely misses the guy lying down in the middle of the sidewalk. “Fuck,” She yelps as she trips over someone’s legs and tries to catch herself with her hands. The person she tripped over grumbles a little as he sits up. Katelyn tries to get up but she can only make it into a sitting position before her head starts spinning. Okay, so maybe she’s a little more than tipsy.

The boy in front of her is slouched over and squinting at her as if the sun was out. “The fuck are you lying on the ground for?” She says, proud of the way her voice only slightly slurs. He mumbles something that Katelyn can’t catch. “What?” She asked again, leaning forward to hear him better.

“My brother left me at the bar and I walked home but I got tired so I sat down. Don’t know when that was though. Are you alright?” Katelyn giggled a little at the way the blonde in front of her was rambling. “‘M fine. Scraped my hand a bit, but it’s fine. Do you live here?” The dorms were co-ed so the boy very well could live there but it was only for STEM majors. “No, but I can’t really find it in me to get back to mine. I have a classmate who lives here do you have the code?”

It probably should’ve occurred to Katelyn that he may have nefarious intentions but all she can think about is how warm her room is and how cozy her bed sounds right now. “Sure. I just want to go to bed.” The boy in front of her gets to his feet, stumbling a bit as he goes. Once he catches his balance, he reaches a hand down for her. Katelyn grabs it and uses it to drag herself up.

Once she was standing properly she was a little shocked to realize she was taller than the guy in front of her. Katelyn wasn’t short by any count but she certainly wasn’t tall either. This guy in front of her had to be around 5 feet tall. “Quite short, aren’t ya?” She mumbled as she took in his blond hair and hazel eyes. Up close, the man was actually rather attractive. He was slim but she could tell he worked out. He wasn’t buff per se but he was definitely in shape. His mouth twisted down and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not short. You’re just a giant.” Katelyn let out a laugh at that. Unbelievable.

“I am five foot three jerk. I am not a giant you are just short.” The guy's lips dipped lower and Katelyn couldn’t quite take her eyes off of them. Awfully plump, they were. “I want my bed so start walking if you still want inside.” The guy took a few steps forward and stumbled to the side. Katelyn groaned and hooked her arm around his and started walking forward. She wasn’t quite going straight but she wasn’t stumbling so that was a win in her books.

It took a lot of maneuvering to get inside the building and into the elevator. “What are you studying?” Katelyn asked through a yawn as she watched the numbers climb. “Biochemistry.” The guy slurred. Katelyn hummed and nodded. “I’m studying neuroscience.” The guy looked over at her and smiled a little. “Number please.” Katelyn stared at him for a moment wondering if he would give her anymore than that. He didn’t.

“What?” She asked and watched as he looked at her like she was missing something. “Can I have your number? We’re studying similar things. We can study buddy.” Katelyn briefly pondered the pros and cons of giving this obviously drunk guy her number before coming to the conclusion why the fuck not. “M’kay.” She said and took his phone right out of his back pocket, the guy made an offended sound but the elevator door opened and she dragged him out so she wouldn’t lose her floor. Typing quickly, she saved her number in his phone and gave it back.

He turned around and pressed the elevator button again. It opened a moment later, not having gone anywhere. “Goodnight, stranger and possibly future study buddy.” The guy stared at her for a moment before smiling a little as he walked into the elevator. “Goodnight. What’s your name?” Katelyn mentally scolded herself for not having asked his earlier. “Katelyn. Yours?” The elevator doors had already started closing. The boys smiled once more, “Aaron,” He answered a second before the doors closed.

Katelyn watched as the doors to the elevator shut and she stayed there a moment longer. There were thoughts running through her head but she was too tired to focus on any. Eventually, she turned around and started walking back to her dorm. A weird end to a long night but Katelyn couldn't say she was unhappy. The guy - Aaron, probably wouldn't text her but she didn't think it would be the worst thing if he did.

#all for the game #aftg #aaron minyard #katelyn mackenzie #meet cute #alternative meeting #aaron minyard x katelyn mackenzie #aftg advent calendar 2024 #advent calendar day 12

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sonkitty · 11 months ago

Text

The Sideburns Scheme Post #9

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

This post was last updated 09/05/2024.

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 1, The Arrival, fragile existence

I heard David Tennant got a BAFTA nomination for his portrayal of Crowley in Good Omens 2! Yay! He did such a good job. Congrats Mr. Tennant! You're awesome!

I don't really have anything else to add, so I am moving on with the rest of the post...

Some images below are brightened as I see fit to help show things better.

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are shorter than they were in the previous scene with Gabriel. Their length best matches the length found in the park. That would be short but not quite the intended shortness after driving for enough time.

As noted in the main sideburns post, this reading recognizes Crowley as a supernatural entity but still giving something shorter than longer reading around other angels. Most likely, that's because Crowley and Aziraphale are supernatural friends whose relationship is very similar to human partners.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

While the previous scene wanted to show the streak more clearly for most of the scene, this one does not. It wants anyone looking to look really hard.

There are a number of places where I think the hair is more red and hesitate, at this point thinking it is largely absent.

If it is there, it may have moved to the right side of Crowley's head. Here is an image of what I mean:

In motion without checking frame by frame, and just watching the scene a few times, it looks more plausible on that right side of the head in a few other cuts.

I definitely cannot find a more saturated red streak right before Crowley leaves the room and says, "You're on your own with this one." That's an angle where it can usually be found.

My theory goes that the streak is an after-effect of a Big Miracle performed either on Sunday at midnight or a previous timeline. So, this scene could be a mix of both Saturday and Monday or it could be that previous timeline.

I still can't quite get the pieces to line up in a way I understand, but that's my general guess from the story's clues.

...

Hairstyle Changes

Crowley's hair is erratic here, suiting his frustrated mood.

...

The sideburns are shorter than the previous scene with Gabriel. Instead of a tidy collected swoop, he has curls going up from his forehead that actually change how they curl during this scene itself.

When Crowley closes the door, his hair has two visibly thicker curls going down, then curving up toward his left back inward, ending either in the center above his left eye.

When Crowley is thinking they "just take him somewhere and leave him there", the curls go up and out from the center creating a V-like shape.

When Crowley is talking about "exactlys", the curling of his hair above his right eye is going up in and back, much like the hair more centered and above his left eye, instead of parting away from the center of his forehead like the description above. It has a stronger resemblance to the style when he encountered Gabriel than the other styles in this scene. I think Crowley looks best in that particular cut and the ones most similar to it, for the scene.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley touches the door frame on the way in, but his fingers aren't shown. Due to hand mechanics being so complex, I'm not sure what it counts for, regarding earthly objects or thresholds. I tend to assume the threshold-only touches are in the Threshold Tricks with a notable exception being when Crowley agrees to loan the car through how he touches the car's thresholds. At that point, he is allowed to do that because of his actively known but unseen pocket touch, I assume anyway. The audible slap on Aziraphale's hand before such touches on the car thresholds might count for something too.

Well, here Crowley does make a small pocket with his hand, including his thumb, even if digits get blurry as he lets go. So, I would guess it's either an earthly object touch or a null touch.

As noted in a previous post, this time Crowley actually fully crosses a threshold first with Aziraphale close behind him. He generally doesn't lead when it comes to locations outside the bookshop; Aziraphale does. The door isn't closed until Aziraphale has passed by him though, now that I think about it.

As Aziraphale enters, his reflection can be found in a push plate on the door. It's mainly his arm that is most visible though there is technically some of a blurry hand. Aziraphale visibly crosses past Crowley, so this action could be a ridiculously complex assist for whatever is necessary for the Tied Hands. I'm not sure if the Tied Hands need re-tying because if they do, I think the process is being drawn out in some special way until Crowley lets the smoke hit him later with his lightning. They'll do some things shown shortly.

Crowley makes pockets with his arms due to placing his hands on his hips. Admittedly, with the left arm, it is an assumed pocket because I can't find an actual gap showing what is behind him. I just know a pocket is there because of the lighting. Nonetheless, he touches his jacket with his thumb joints. He's very particular about his jacket touches when it comes to pocket trickery, especially the thumb joints. Part of an actual door is visually in the pocket for Crowley's right arm and torso.

The tie strands switch when Crowley closes the door:

I can see his shadow on the door itself. Shadows show up in The Pocket Trick as if to allow leniency through stretching or sharing or some other word I can't place. I suspect shadows are significantly what helps Aziraphale reach for and keep his Green in the Rainbow Connection during The Door Catch.

Getting back to the tie strands, they pop out off Crowley's chest to make a pocket at least twice:

In each of those times, there is something resembling more switching happening.

Crowley makes a pocket with his shoulder, left arm, and left hand when he emphasizes the word "him" for saying Gabriel needs to be nowhere near Crowley. Part of his watch is visible.

Knowing Crowley, the left hand and watch are up to something here too:

The main earthly object touch of the scene is at the end when Aziraphale sits in a chair. For this one, Aziraphale's back actually does touch the chair.

Regarding dialogue, Aziraphale says Crowley's name. Otherwise, there is the name of a place, Dartmoor, and a title for Gabriel with Supreme Archangel of all Heaven. Titles seem to be acceptable as name alternatives. There are several questions, probably most notable of which is, "What does your exactly mean exactly?"

Edit, addition as of 09/05/2024:

As an addendum some months after making post, I have tried to study retying and the activation of the Belt Head. This scene is well beyond me in that regard, but I have picked up on a few other details I would like to add for the overall log.

Overhead Lights tend to go that left-side Overhead Lights are for demons, and right-side Overhead Lights are for angels. When Crowley and Aziraphale enter, their heads pocket the lights that reverse this understanding. The lights are to Crowley's right and Aziraphale's left. After passing these lights, Aziraphale's hand reflection can be found in the push plate of the door.

Then, during the scene, Overhead Lights for actual heads are avoided. However, there is partially open door with a push plate that sometimes gets visual touches over it during the scene, including the heads sometimes. It's not an Overhead Light, but it seems to serve some function in the mechanics with the lacking Overhead Lights, especially for Crowley's actual head.

Meanwhile, Crowley's belt is hidden for almost the entire scene. The top of the Belt Head can be found early in this one particular cut:

It's easy to miss. I only caught it because of how thorough I am being overall in my notes.

That cut is also the first of when the unlit lamp to Crowley's left is showing its pole stand that has a mildly reflective surface.

This lamp seems to act as the Belt Head's Overhead Light in a scene that very much avoids Overhead Lights for Crowley's actual head.

For the part where I said I thought Crowley's left hand and watch were up to something, I suspect that is a retying. I'm a little unsure due to how the thumb joints are managed, but various little clues still suggest that to be the case, especially with the watch and left index finger being so overt in action.

...

Story Commentary

Crowley is only in this room twice during the season and with Aziraphale both times. It is the most private space we see for the two of them though Muriel intrudes in episode 3.

The lighting in this scene favors Crowley's right side, instead of his left. As such, his left sideburn looks to have more hair to increase its fullness compared to other scenes when the lighting favors Crowley's left side.

There are some cuts where a lightning imprint seems to appear in Crowley's forehead. I can sometimes spot it in other cuts during the story too. He'll be shooting out lightning later in the episode.

There are moments where I think Aziraphale sees the lightning imprint too.

Here is a picture. I've indicated these imprints in red rectangles instead of white since his lightning will be red.

...

Crowley emphasizes the word "fragile". When we eventually see Crowley summoned to Hell, I take that particular scene as a way to show his meaning. He'll be there, reluctantly, and having to manage his own movement carefully in the process.

One of Crowley's points in the argument is that Gabriel is not their friend. Other parts of the story imply he and Gabriel were friends or have some further personal history together, so that might be another part of his distraught emotions on display in the scene.

Crowley doesn't bring up the possibility of Gabriel falling, but it is something he himself has experienced so that might be an understated and even unconscious fear.

When Crowley walks past Aziraphale to start to leave, there is a hiss type sound effect. Crowley uses a demonic hiss three times when removing his sunglasses later. Otherwise, he has this hiss when preparing to leave the room in anger and another in episode 3 where he is not angry at all. In episode 3, that hiss seems to mean something more like a friendly, "Follow me."

The red on the back of the collar on Crowley's jacket can be found in this scene more obviously than it usually can:

Even though the room is a private setting, there is a partially open door visible in the background during the scene.

Both characters have understandable views of the situation they've found themselves in, so I'm not particularly in favor of one over the other on their points in the argument.

I have an overall obvious bias for Crowley in general though.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

The next intended post is very important because game tutorials are on the way! By that, I mean the tutorials are from the story, not me.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

...

Past version of this post:

Post #9 (fragile existence)

#crowley #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #crowley s2 hair project

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elvenbeard · 10 months ago

Note

Soft OTP asks #9???

HIII this took me a hot minute öaskdhfasf. Thank you so much for asking!! I had this in my drafts forever and just didn't get around to editing it, but now finally here we are 👀

Prompts Handsome As Fuck

(Cyberpunk 2077 fanfic, Kerry Eurodyne x V, 1127 words; prompt: Write about your ship getting dressed up in fancy outfits together.)

“You want one of my ties?” V asked, and Kerry had to pause for a couple of seconds to ensure he’d heard him correctly. His hesitation made V’s head appear from behind the open doors of the wardrobe, and his expression changed from neutral expectation to laughter as he saw the face Kerry made.

“A tie? Do I look like I wear ties to ya?” Kerry asked with played offense and gestured at himself up and down rapidly. His shirt was still unbuttoned, he couldn’t find his belt, and he was already looking forward to switching his suit pants for something more comfortable – or nothing – as soon as they were back home later. He hated that the label made him go to this party, a formal cocktail event… that wasn’t exactly Kerry’s specialty, and the dress code only made it worse.

V snickered and the sound pulled Kerry’s thoughts back to the present. He was glad V’d be there with him tonight, happy to come even, as he didn’t get to dress up fancy for his job at the Afterlife really. He could, technically, but he chose not to, for a variety of reasons.

“Do I look like I wear ties?” V asked, posing to showcase his tattoos, fingers running through colorful strands of hair.

“Well, no,” Kerry shrugged, flustered, “Most of the time, at least. Today a little bit.”

V chuckled softly and returned his attention to the wardrobe briefly. He was already pretty much ready to go, dark pants and shirt, a sleek red blazer, his hair slicked back. It was still way shorter than back when they first met, too short for styling it much into a shape he liked. But he’d finally dyed it in his favorite colors again at least.

Kerry smiled to himself, and before getting too lost in thought once again continued to dig through a bunch of clothes on the armchair by the bed. Finally, his fingers got a hold of the smooth synleather belt he’d been searching for. At the very bottom of the pile, of course. He swiftly put it on and flinched slightly when a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” V whispered apologetically – he really moved too quietly for his own good sometimes.

“Try this one, goes well with the shirt,” V smiled and handed Kerry a dark blue blazer with fine woven stripes of gold.

“That’s none of mine,” Kerry said as V helped him slip into it, expecting it to be just a tiny bit too tight around the shoulders, and the sleeves a tiny bit too long for him. Sharing t-shirts and other stretchy or less-fitted clothes was no issue between them, but when it came to tailored evening wear – or shoes – the problems began. Yet, this blazer fit Kerry like a glove…

“Now it is,” V grinned and, holding on to Kerry’s lapels, gave him a quick sweet kiss on the lips, “Looking handsome as fuck.”

“You… gonk,” was all Kerry managed to say, too surprised, taken aback, fingers trailing over V’s hands first, then feeling the soft, velvety fabric of the blazer.

“This fits me better than my goddamn wedding suit,” he muttered.

“Yeah, cause your stylist has no clue what she’s doing,” V said with a self-confident shrug, and Kerry chuckled.

“Thank you,” he then just said and kissed V back before slowly stepping in front of the mirror to take a look at himself. And damn yeah… he looked criminally hot, the colors of the jacket accentuating his cyberware and eyes, contrasting with his bare chest.

“Think I’m just gonna leave my shirt open,” he said, turning to see himself from different angles.

V laughed as he passed by behind him, and Kerry noticed him checking him out shamelessly. As he should, Kerry had never felt as good in a suit before.

“You can pull it off,” V said.

“You could, too!” Kerry said, gesturing loosely at V’s shirt buttoned all the way to the top.

“Prefer it like this.”

He picked a dark red tie out of the closet then joined Kerry in front of the mirror to put it on. Kerry watched as swift fingers flung the fabric around and skillfully turned it into a pretty knot.

“My father never taught me that kinda stuff,” he mused a little absentmindedly.

V paused for a moment.

“Neither did mine,” he said seriously, “Some guy in an old video tutorial did. Also taught me how to shave.”

Kerry realized his mistake.

“Ah, fuck… sorry, sometimes I…” he started, but V laughed.

“It’s fine,” he said, tie done neat and tidy, and gave Kerry a quick peck on the cheek before turning to leave, “Kinda flattering, in a way. That you forget it sometimes.”

“Love ya. Just the way you are, V,” Kerry said quietly and turned away from the mirror to follow V downstairs. Their Delamain had just passed by the bedroom windows and landed outside.

V petted the cat goodbye, then they both left the penthouse through the northern patio door.

“I didn’t always,” V mused quietly and Kerry almost paused in his tracks, “Love myself the way I am, I mean. Y’know what I bought from my first paycheck that didn’t go straight to Vik?”

“The newest braindance wreath?” Kerry teased.

“Okay… from my second paycheck,” V corrected himself and Kerry laughed.

“Hmm… not sure.”

“A fitted shirt, that actually didn’t really fit me all that well,” V said, “And a worn-out second-hand blazer, and an awful tie. I’d never owned any of those, my mother would’ve tossed it all out the moment she saw it. And even though I looked like shit, the euphoria when I saw myself in the mirror in that fit was unreal.”

So much suddenly clicked into place with V and his clothing choices for Kerry that he’d never considered before. V sighed as they reached the AV, the door sliding open as they approached.

“Kinda dumb, I know,” he said, “Putting so much weight onto a piece of fabric and outdated gender norms.”

“It’s not dumb at all,” Kerry shook his head and took V’s hand as they sat down inside while Delamain gave his little welcome speech.

“I’m a firm believer in ‘do whatever the fuck makes you happy’. Even if it’s something ‘kinda dumb’ like dressing however you wanna. If it makes ya feel good, go for it.”

V chuckled.

“Thank you,” he said quietly and rested his head on Kerry’s shoulder, “Love ya.”

“Love ya, too,” Kerry said, fingers entangled with his handsome date’s, his mainline, his big, unexpected late-life love story that he couldn’t even have dreamed of... The man that kept surprising him each day by showing him new ways to love himself unconditionally.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x v #male v cyberpunk #cyberpunk v #vincent ezaki #otp: to bad decisions #my writing #in which I am randomly hit by feels as I read through this for the first time in a while and yeah ;___;

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callsignspark · 2 years ago

Note

Bradley and Mary

straddling your partner's thighs

look at what you've done, anon. I've gone and written something ridiculously long.

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

your lap is my safe place - part i

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, uterine cancer (discussions of a terminal illness and treatment), death due to cancer (established universe death), grief over losing a parent, funerals, panic attacks, vomiting, you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 7.1k

part ii - coming soon

note: originally, this was supposed to be a short, simple prompt answer - one part sad and one part smutty - but it's gotten extremely out of hand due to my inability to be brief. so this is part one (the sad part), and the smutty sequel will be coming (ha) sometime early next week. and when I say this part is sad, I mean sad. some of this is very much based on my experience with loved ones who have had cancer and/or were terminally ill. it was very therapeutic to write, even if I did cry a whole lot.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002 | 06:35 A.M.

Bradley wakes up to his alarm clock blaring in his ear, feeling like he’s going to throw up, which is weird for him. Mav says that he’s never met anyone with a stronger stomach. Eighteen-year-olds have stomachs of steel, his mom jokes when she’s having a good day.

He stumbles down the hall and hangs his head over the toilet. Nothing comes up. The nausea goes away in a few minutes, but his gut still feels twisted. He brushes his teeth and decides the likely culprit is the new recipe Mav attempted for dinner last night. He choked down a few bites of the horrible fish tacos before his uncle called it a failure and ordered pizza.

Back in his room, it doesn’t take him long to finish getting ready, pulling on his new first-day-of-school outfit and shaping his mustache. He doesn’t care what Slider says; it’s looking good, much thicker than when he started growing it in April.

“It’s my first day of senior year, my last first day of school. Until the academy, anyway. But with the summer training, the first day of classes probably won’t even feel like a first day.”

His father’s official Lieutenant-JG portrait stares back at him. Unanswering as he fixes his hair.

“Mom is getting worse… She’s getting weaker; I don’t think we have very long before she has to go into hospice. I really want her to get better - I wished for it - but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He swallows hard and fights back tears, remembering his birthday just a few months ago. Everything hadn’t seemed quite as bad then as it is now.

“I hope she can make it to Christmas. I almost have enough money saved up to buy her that pair of earrings that look like the ones Princess Diana had at her wedding. They’re not real pearls like hers, obviously, but the lady at the jewelry counter told me they’re replicas, so I think she’ll like them anyway.”

Brown eyes identical to his own stare back at him. Hints of the mischievous, prank-loving man visible in the polite smile captured. The old photo is carefully tucked into the edge of his mirror; it was his mom’s first, but she gave it to him when he was eight. She had caught him staring at it every day for a week, quietly talking to it about his day.

“Wish me luck, Goose. It’s gonna be a big year.”

Downstairs, he’s greeted with the second weird thing of the day. First, his stomach, and now his mom is flipping pancakes. She’s hardly had the strength to use the bathroom by herself in the last six months, but this morning, she’s standing at the stove, singing along to the radio, and making his favorite breakfast.

She’s always said that bad things happen in threes, but strange things happen in pairs.

He thinks she might be right, but if she feels good, he’s not complaining. She never feels good anymore.

“There he is! Oh, Mav! Look at my baby boy, all grown up and ready for his last year of high school!”

“Ma…” He groans, and without prompting, he bends down to let her kiss and pinch his cheeks like he always does.

He’s not sure how many good days she has left, so he tries his best to behave and make her life easier.

He doesn't complain when she asks him to take the garbage out after he already did; her memory hasn’t been as good since she got sick. He keeps the anger inside when everyone forgets his baseball games because she had chemo; it’s more important for Mav and Ice to take care of her than to watch him throw a ball around. He even offered up his college fund to help pay for another round of treatment. He was denied before he could even finish the suggestion, but he just wants her to get better more than anything in the world.

Needs her to get better.

She sets a stack of pancakes in front of him, and again, he has the urge to cry when she kisses the top of his head. Her perfume takes over his senses, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s little again.

A massive stack of fluffy, perfectly round pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, filled with his mom’s love.

Mav sitting across the table from him, drinking the worst black coffee to exist on the planet.

His mom humming off-key at the stove, her beautiful, golden hair swishing as she gets into a song.

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s not little anymore.

The pancakes are still covered with butter and enough syrup to give him a cavity, but they’re not the same. They’re flat and mishappen; her arms aren’t very strong anymore, so Mav must’ve had to help her.

Mav still sits across from him, terrible black coffee in his mug, but now he looks old. Too old for someone in his thirties. They’ve been lucky he’s been able to be here this past year. After Mom got sick, Ice and Viper pulled some strings to get him assigned to a shore-duty desk job. Bradley knows he hates it. Can see it in the way he watches every plane that passes overhead - civilian, military, it doesn’t matter - his fingers twitching to be the one controlling the powerful engines. But he never complains, is steady and strong, taking Mom to appointments and Bradley to school.

His mom is humming at the stove for the first time in a long time, somehow more in tune than she’s ever been. He wants to make a joke about how the treatments must have fixed her tone-deafness, but it would just make everyone sad. A reminder that it’s the only thing her treatment has fixed.

It’s taken everything else away.

Her skin, once bright and youthful, is now dull and gray-toned. Her energy has been zapped; she doesn’t even have it in her to make it through their Sunday movie nights. Her body is frail. She was always slim, but now she borders on gaunt, her appetite nonexistent most of the time. Her hair was the first thing to go, a rotation of brightly colored scarfs and hats replacing the blonde strands that used to reach her shoulders. He looks at today’s choice. A bright red scarf that matches the white sundress and red cardigan she’s pulled on.

She looks pretty.

“You look pretty, mom.”

It grabs the attention of both adults, the two of them staring long enough that he squirms in his chair.

“Thank you, baby.” Her pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “You don’t want your pancakes?”

“I do. They look great, but my stomach kinda hurt when I got up, so I don’t want to eat right now. I’m sorry. If you put them in the fridge, I can eat them for dinner.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a special day; we’re going to have something special for dinner! Something that Mav won’t be making.” The teasing smile she sends to the table makes the knot in his stomach unwind some. It makes him feel good enough to take a small bite.

The shape is wrong, and they’re not fluffy enough, but the taste is the same. The flavor melts over his tongue. The pressure in his chest, the one that showed up around the same time as his mom’s cancer diagnosis, lightens a little bit.

I should fake sick and stay home.

The thought comes out of left field, but he’s immediately on board. She hasn’t had a good day in forever, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Who knows when the next one will come. If there will even be another good day. He wants to spend time with his mom while she knows what’s happening.

“My stomach hurts; I don’t think I can go to school.” He groans and grabs his stomach, trying to look as pathetic as possible to sell his story.

He’s forgotten how sharp his mom is, how well she knows him. “Nice try, honey. You were fine two seconds ago, and you’re not missing your first day of senior year. Now, c’mon! It’s photo time!”

Carole is marching towards the front door before he can argue, so he tries to sway Mav in his favor. But the dark-haired man just shakes his head and avoids eye contact, grabbing the camera off the counter. Bradley stands in the middle of the kitchen, the knot retwisting itself.

He suddenly realizes that his upset stomach has nothing to do with yesterday’s tilapia trying to get its revenge and everything to do with what he overheard in the waiting room during his mom’s last checkup.

“I know, I heard. Isn’t it terrible? He'd been sick for a while, but it seemed like he was getting better. He even took his kids on a bike ride, and then - BAM! - he was gone the next day!”

“Oh, that happens a lot with people who are sick for a long time. Toward the end, they get this sudden burst of energy. It’s like God’s way of giving a happy memory to them and their loved ones. Letting them have one last good day before they go.”

He’s actually going to throw up this time.

Bradley drags his feet all the way to the front door, delaying his departure as much as possible. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he’s not going to win any fight against her right now - he’s going to school, come hell or high water. And he doesn’t want to fight with his mom; instead, he chooses to commit the moment to memory.

The gentle touch of her hands as she fusses with his hair, making sure it’s just right before any photos.

The brightness of her smile, how it’s the one thing that’s never dimmed despite everything she’s gone through.

The teasing barbs she exchanges with Mav, the man who has been family to her for longer than Bradley has been alive.

He looks at Mav, the man who has done his best to help raise him. Tried so hard to be a fatherly figure in place of the man who was lost too soon. Mav looks tired, Bradley wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as him.

She’s going. She’s going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Just like every year since kindergarten, they squish together on the porch, his mom wrapping her arm around his waist. He thinks about how she used to have to squat down so their heads were together. Now, she’d have to go on her tiptoes, and he’d have to crouch down for that to happen.

He knows his smile looks fake; he has to force himself because this might be the last photo he gets with his mom, and that makes him sad beyond words. Carole quickly fixes that, tickling his side on that one spot that always gets him. He giggles and tries to squirm away, his smile turning happy and real as she laughs at him.

“You’re just like your father; he was ticklish in the exact same spot.”

Even the talk of Goose doesn’t bring them down like it usually does. Today, it lifts everyone’s spirit to realize how much he’s like the father he didn’t get to know.

After Mav has taken an ungodly number of photos, Bradley asks for the camera and stands next to his uncle. He snaps photo after photo of his mom, hoping that if he takes enough, he won’t ever be able to forget this moment. Then he shuffles Mav on the porch and takes photos of the pseudo-siblings. He rearranges them one last time, setting the camera on the porch railing and hitting the timer.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that photo of the three of them standing in the yard with the Bronco just visible in the background will be the last photo taken of his mother. As an adult, it will be tied for first place with five others as his favorite photo of all time.

After the last flash, Carole pulls him close. “I am so proud of you, Bradley. Your dad would be so proud of you. You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter than he should; he can’t help it. The little gasp she lets out at the intensity of his hug makes him feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

“I know, honey. I know. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe her baby, who isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a full-grown man who is so much smarter and wiser than any 18-year-old should ever be. He’s been through so much more than any kid should ever have to go through. She feels bad about how quickly he’s had to grow up. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

No, it’s not going to be okay. But he holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to cry when she’s having a good day. He reluctantly lets go and slips on his sunglasses - aviators, just like Goose - before heading for his car, knowing that if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to make himself leave.

With his stomach in even more knots than he thought possible, Bradley heads off to school, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. Trying to burn the image of his mom waving, one hand on her hip as Mav nudges her and makes her laugh.

From the moment he parks the Bronco in the seniors-only lot, the entire school day feels like torture. He can’t even enjoy the beginning of his senior year, something he had been waiting for.

Senior year means graduation. Graduation means going to college. College means packing his stuff for Annapolis. Annapolis means he can finally start working on his dream.

He’ll learn how to be an aviator while roaming the same halls as Goose while he learns the ins and outs of aeronautical engineering. He might even be lucky enough to get placed in the same dorm room. Being an aviator means he’ll be just like his father. And Mav. And Ice. And Slider. And all of his other uncles from the class of '86. But he can’t bring himself to be excited like usual.

Instead, he’s on edge the entire day. Waiting to get called to the nurse’s office. They all had agreed as a family - Bradley, Carole, Mav, and Ice - that if she passed when he was at school, they would have the front office call him down to the nurse’s office. Ice would pick him up, Mav likely busy dealing with the doctors and the funeral home and everything.

He can barely eat the lunch his mom packed. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, cut into triangles like when he was little. Chips, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie round out the meal. He tosses most of the food but is careful to keep the little note she had put in the brown paper bag.

I love you, Bradley. You’re going to do great things.

He presses it between the pages of his calculus textbook before he goes to gym, making sure he doesn’t bend the pink sticky note, preserving her swirly handwriting as best he can.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the eighth period rings. Relief washes through his body. There’s been no call from the nurse, and his school day is over. He hastily packs his bookbag and practically skips towards the parking lot, waving at some friends still in class. He’s one got free period during ninth period, and as a senior, he gets to leave early if he has no class.

He’s planning his route home - he wants to stop at the corner store to grab a treat for his mom - when he skids to a stop where the concrete sidewalk meets asphalt.

Ice is leaning against the bumper of the Bronco.

“Happy birthday, Bradley!” His mom yells before blowing a kazoo.

He couldn’t be happier. It’s his birthday, his mom is having a good day, and he just got the keys to the Bronco. It’s officially his, just like he always dreamed it would be.

“Your dad’s dream was for you two to fix it up together and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday,” Mav explained. “I know I can’t replace him, but we had a good time working on it, right?”

Bradley nods and hugs his uncle. Mav will never be his actual dad, but he’s the closest thing he has to one. He helped raise him. He had sacrificed so many weekends to spend time with him, showing him how to fix the Bronco or throw a football with a perfect spiral. He’d even taken him on motorcycle rides, but they agreed not to tell Mom about that.

“Okay, knock it off, you saps. It’s time to blow out your candles, Baby Goose!” Slider enters the dining room, looking ridiculous with a crooked party hat on his head. He’s concentrating hard to balance a cake that’s much too big for the six people in attendance at his birthday dinner.

It’s set in front of Bradley, and he laughs when he sees the cake is covered in little plane toys. It looks like a cake made for a little kid, and he loves it. Aunt Sarah lights his candles and starts singing. He sits there for 30 seconds, watching his family sing off-key and thinking about how he loves his family so much his heart hurts.

“Okay, baby! Close your eyes and make a wish!” Carole smooths a hand over his hair.

He smiles up at her. “Only if you help me, ma.”

She bends down, doing a quick countdown before they close their eyes and blow out the candles together. For the first time in years, Bradley actually makes a wish.

Please don’t let my mom die. I need her.

Ice is talking to Slider, who’s parked in his white Jeep, and even from this distance, he can tell they’ve been crying.

Slider has obviously given Ice a ride to school, and now they’re waiting for him. If Ice doesn’t have his truck, that means he’s going to be driving Bradley. And that can only mean one thing.

She’s gone. My wish didn’t come true.

His backpack hits the ground at the same time as his knees, and he throws up. It’s not a lot; he’s barely eaten today, and by the time his uncles reach him - their feet pounding on the pavement - he’s just sobbing and dry heaving into the grass.

“Breathe, Bradley. You gotta breathe, buddy.” He can’t tell which one is talking; blood is rushing in his ears, and he just keeps crying.

“Bradley.” It’s Ice, holding his face up. “Listen to me. Your mom is not dead. Do you hear me? She’s not gone. But she had to be taken to the hospital; we’re still waiting for the test results. We’re gonna go there right now, but you need to breathe first, okay? You gotta breathe.”

He does his best to stop crying and take in air. His body literally shudders on the first breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the oxygen. After a few breaths, a water bottle is shoved in front of his face. He doesn’t even know where it came from, but he drinks, his throat raw.

Slider pops a mint into his mouth before helping him stand. “It’ll help your throat and your stomach.”

He races to the car, throwing the keys to Ice, who almost drops them. Both adults speed out of the parking lot, heading directly for the hospital.

Halfway there Ice has a chilling realization. The car is silent. If he’s learned anything in the last twenty-odd years, it’s that a car ride involving a Bradshaw is never silent. There’s always talking and laughing. Usually, you can count on singing and bad seat dancing, but today, it’s silent. There’s not even the sound of crying. And when he looks over at Bradley, he’s startled to find him catatonically staring out the windshield, his face bone dry. He looks like a statue, and it freaks Ice out how quickly he’s shut down. He hasn’t attended Sunday service in a long time, doesn’t even know if he believes in a higher power, but at that moment, he sends off prayers to every deity he can name, hoping that one of them can pull off a miracle for the boy who’s already dealt with so much.

It’s even worse at the hospital, Slider nabbing the spot next to them seconds after Ice shifts into park. The three of them hurry towards the ICU, where a nurse lets them all in after she hears who they’re visiting. Technically, only Bradley and Pete meet the requirements to be allowed in, but the entire ward is aware of the situation and are prepared to let as many people visit as needed.

Bradley freezes halfway to Carole’s room, Slider almost running him over. A priest is walking out of her room. He shakes hands with Mav and somberly nods at the frozen trio when he passes.

Mav watches as his best friends gently nudge his godson forward. His heart feels like it’s splitting in two as tears start streaming down Bradley’s face. A face that looks so old and so young at the same time. Maverick feels like he’s watching his 18-year-old nephew transform into the little boy who just lost his dad. His lower lip trembles just like it used to when he would fall and scrap his knee. Except this time, there’s nothing Mav can do to make it better. There’s no antibacterial spray, no Spiderman band-aid, no over-dramatic kiss with magical healing powers. This time, there’s only a young man who’s now taller than him. He stands in the doorway with red eyes and a mustache that makes him look so much like Goose.

“What happened?” Bradley croaks, afraid to enter the room. He hates the way his mom looks when she’s hooked up to all those machines. The beeping hurts his ears. “Why was the priest in here?”

“I don’t know, kid. We were about to eat lunch, and she collapsed. The doctors don’t know either; the test results didn’t show anything that’s telling them what’s going on. Everything is just suddenly worse.” Mav gets choked up; he can hardly continue. “They uh- they said this is probably it. That we should say our goodbyes. That’s why I had the priest come in. When we talked about her final wishes a while ago, she made me promise she would get her last rites.”

Bradley tackles him in a hug before he finishes talking. They cry together, mourning the loss that hasn’t happened yet.

The four of them have been sitting in silence for hours, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, when Bradley speaks up from his post beside his mom. “What else does she want? I know she wants to be buried next to Goose, but what else? She didn’t tell me.”

“She wants yellow carnations in her arrangements. Her wedding band stays with her, just like Goose, but her engagement ring goes to you. She wants to be wearing that blue dress she wore when she first met your dad.”

“That’s it?”

“There are a few more legal things, like with the house and the cars, but that’s laid out in her will. She made me promise I’ll take care of you, which I was always going to do no matter what.”

And she made me promise I’ll never let you fly.

Mav doesn’t add that final promise to the list; it’s not the right time for that conversation. He’s not sure it’ll ever be the right time.

Carole can feel herself getting weaker, but today is a good day; she feels good. Strong.

“Peter Howard Mitchell! Listen to me, you stupid, stubborn, obnoxious jackass! We don’t have a lot of time before Bradley gets back, and we need to talk about this!”

Bradley had felt guilty about leaving to go to the movies with Tessa Richardson, but Carole had insisted - he’d had a crush on that girl for years. It was about time he had his first kiss. And she was 95% certain it was going to happen today. Her motherly instincts were tingling.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Carole! I’m sick of every conversation we have being about you dying!”

“You think I like talking about it? Knowing that I’m leaving behind my little boy?” She gets in his face, yelling with every ounce of strength she can summon. “You think I like knowing that my body is giving up? That I’m dying? I can feel it happening, Pete! I can feel myself drifting away! And nothing the doctors are doing is helping! I know that it’s scaring Bradley, scaring you, but it’s scaring me most of all!”

Maverick catches her, and they sink to the ground; she sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry; I’m so sorry, Carole. What do you need me to do?”

“Bradley can’t fly.” She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “He can’t fly for the Navy, Pete. I know he wants to, but you can’t let him.”

“But Carole, it’s his dream to-”

“To die just like his father?” Her words shock him. “I love Nick more than anything, Pete, you know that. But do you know what I would do to have him here with us today? Do you realize I’ve lived three times as long without my husband than I did with him? It’s been fifteen years - almost sixteen. I only knew Nick for five, and we were only married for three before he was gone. I would do anything to have Bradley know his father.”

“Care…”

“You’ve been incredible, Mav. You’ve done your best to be a father to him; he loves you so much. I love you so much; you’re my best friend. But I've missed my husband every day for the last fifteen years. He was the love of my life, and I miss him so much my heart hurts. I’m not going to be here, but I can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to Bradley. I won’t let that happen to my baby. So, you have to promise me, Pete. Promise me you won’t let him fly.”

They sit on the floor in silence, staring at each other. The internal debate roars inside Maverick, hurting his chest. He loves the Bradshaws more than anything. He would do anything for them. He still feels guilty about his best friend’s death, knows it was his fault, even if the investigation said he was innocent. The guilt of Goose being gone eats away at him, little by little each day.

Carole is right.

He can’t - he won’t - lose Bradley the same way.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep him out of the air. But Carole, he’s almost an adult. Soon, there won’t be much I can do to control him. I can’t stop him from applying to the Academy or joining the Navy.”

“Yes, you can. Get Ice to pull some strings, indebt yourself to Viper. Do whatever you have to do. Do everything you can to protect him, Pete.” Her voice is cold and emotionless, knowing it will destroy her son, but at least he’ll be alive.

It was the one and only time they had talked about it, but every time Bradley excitedly talked about his future, Carole would look at him with this face that made Mav feel awful. It’s her request, but he was going to be the reason Bradley’s dreams were crushed.

Mav leans over in his chair, guilt and hopelessness consuming his body. The knowledge that his godson was about to be more like him in all the ways he never wanted.

Orphaned. Mother dying, with a broken heart, years after his father was killed while flying.

Denied entrance to the Naval Academy due to something beyond his control.

“She doesn’t want anything else?”

“No.”

It’s the last word spoken. A lie.

Slider and Ice spend the night just outside the door in some extra chairs an orderly had been kind enough to scrounge up. Mav shifts between standing at Carole’s side to hold her hand and sitting ramrod straight at the foot of her bed.

Bradley stays by his mom’s side the entire night, clutching her left hand. He plays with her wedding band, twisting it around her finger like he used to when he was little. He thinks about how different everything is going to be. He’s going to be alone a lot more now. He’s legally an adult, so when Mav gets deployed or transferred, there won’t be a need to scramble to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the house or if it’s even his to worry about. Mav, Ice, and his mom had taken care of the legal stuff without him. He wonders if Slider would loan him some money so he can get those earrings. She won’t be able to appreciate them, but he still wants her to have them. It’s the last thing he’ll be able to do for her. They’ll go nice with her blue dress, he thinks. He sits there and thinks. He’s there the whole time.

He’s there, wide awake, when Carole takes her last breath at 3:14 AM on September 4th. He’s there when the doctor comes in to declare her dead; he shakes Bradley’s hand, giving him the first of the thousand condolences that will follow. He’s there when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors and unhook the IVs; she gently asks if he wants to leave while she cleans his mom up, but he refuses. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before he’ll never see her again; he can’t waste any time. He’s there for another hour, trying to say his goodbyes through sobs. He’s there until his uncles drag him out, promising him that he’ll see her again before the funeral. He’s still there, mentally, when he goes to sleep at Uncle Tom’s house. He and Pete are sleeping over, neither of them ready to face the house.

He’s there three days later, shyly asking the funeral director if it would be too much trouble to change his mom’s earrings. When he asked Uncle Ron about the money, he put them both in the car, drove to the mall, and paid for the earrings without question. The two of them hugged for a long time before they went home. He’s there at the viewing, next to his mother’s casket for hours, numbingly accepting condolences and hugs from hundreds of people. The one bright spot is being reminded how many people loved his mom. How wonderful she was to everyone she met.

He’s there at the graveside service, the first to place a rose on the polished wood. He stays there once it ends, refusing to leave, watching as the casket is lowered and the hole is filled with dirt. He’s there to place a bouquet of yellow carnations, her favorite, on top of the fresh earth. He pats the dual gravestone, one half still blank, before he lets Mav pull him to the car. He looks back one last time, and as the sunshine dries his tears, he swears he can hear his parents' laughter in the wind.

As an adult, now with two dead parents and one estranged, he’s there every year that he’s not deployed. He clears away any weeds and leaves before placing a bouquet of yellow carnations on the gravestone that now bears two names. Sometimes, there’s a single red rose already there when he arrives. Those are the years he knows Mav beat him to saying hello. He’s there for hours at a time, sitting with his parents and eating a bag of trail mix with extra M&Ms added - Goose’s favorite.

The first year that he and Mary are together, he’s there alone. He trusts her implicitly, and she knows the whole story. He told her what happened with Mav and everything that followed; it was a conversation they had early on. But this is something too raw, too personal, to share so soon in a relationship. He’s spent so many years doing this by himself that he’s not sure how he would handle having another person with him. Even if it was someone he loves so much.

Mary understands.

“Of course, you understand, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Bradley. I just care about your feelings.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He kisses her before she can protest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

The day of, she kisses him softly as he leaves, pushing a sandwich bag of trail mix into his hand. Her only ask is to tell her when he gets home safe if he needs space, letting him know that her house is always open if he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

He spends that first year catching them up. Now that he’s stationed in San Diego, it’s easier to visit more often, but several things have happened since his last stop. Usually, he talks for a bit and then sits in silence, choosing to reminisce on the happy memories. This time, he spends most of the time talking. Telling his parents about Mav, the shenanigans of the Dagger Squad, about Mary. He tells them all about Mary. How much he loves her, how he hasn’t said it yet because it’s only officially been two months, how he’s pretty sure she can tell anyway. He goes on and on about her eyes, her kindness, her intelligence.

“I love her so much; I’m going to marry her.” He blurts it out, a small gasp following his declaration to the etched granite stone. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Mary in a white dress with a veil sitting on her pretty brown hair, a gold band on her ring finger. The two of them committing themselves to each other in front of all their loved ones. Twirling her around the dance floor to their song, dipping her at the end to kiss her and make her blush. Everything that would follow. A house. A dog. A few kids. Diapers and dance recitals to gray hair and wrinkles.

“Holy shit… I’m going to marry her.” The breeze ruffles his hair, and he knows it’s his parents. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll make sure we’re married before I get her pregnant, unlike you two.”

He decides to stay the night at Mary’s, feeling better than he ever has on this day. He goes to find her the moment he enters the house, using the key she recently gave him. She’s on her office floor, organizing her bookshelf, when he presses himself against her, devouring her in a kiss. Bradley’s added weight throws her off balance, and the two of them topple over, sprawled in the paperbacks.

When he finally pulls back, he’s pleased to see that she’s flushed and her chest is heaving.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that?”

“I’ve never had someone to come home to after visiting them; I’ve always done it alone.” He talks into her neck, enjoying the way her fingers tighten in his hair when his lips brush her skin. “I’m just really thankful I have you.”

“Oh, Bradley…” Mary doesn’t know what to say. She loves this man so much, and she knows it’s too soon to say that, so she shows him. The night ends with a shower and papercuts in places where papercuts should never happen.

The day sneaks up on him the second year they’re together. They’ve been busy; between work, helping Jake with his surprise, and preparing to move in together, August went by in a blink. It leaves him with no time to mentally prepare.

Bradley jolts awake, sweat covering his temples and his heart thumping. It’s the worst nightmare he’s had in months. It was a twisted mess of awful moments. Some real, some imagined. Reliving his mother’s death but worse, almost dying on the uranium mission, losing Mary to cancer, same as his mom. He woke up just as a doctor was telling him she was gone and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. Her husband doesn’t want anyone else back there. You’ll have to wait for the funeral… if you’re even allowed in, asshole.”

He whips the covers off and trips his way to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his dinner makes a return trip. The commotion wakes Mary, and she quickly makes her way to him, finding him laying on the floor, his shirt whipped into the tub.

His chest is so tight it hurts. He can’t believe he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had a full-on panic attack in years. There’s been anxiety, moments where he can’t easily catch his breath and his heart beating faster than it should, but nothing like this. He feels like he’s drenched in sweat, his heart is pounding, and he can’t breathe.

“Bradley? Look at me, sweetie.”

Mary.

“Can you look at me, Bradley?” He can hardly see through the tears. “I know it’s hard because you’re crying so hard, but look at me.”

It takes all his strength to turn his head, but he does it because he knows she’s worried.

“There you are. Okay, baby, I need you to breathe with me.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she helps him calm down. His body listens to her instructions before his brain realizes.

It takes a while, but he can breathe normally again. She helps him sit up, propping himself against the tub and letting his head fall back. He hears the sink run before there’s a soft touch on his shoulder.

“Gonna touch you, that okay?” He nods, appreciative of how considerate she is, always thinking of him.

Mary gently wipes his face, cleaning it of tears and sweat before brushing the washcloth over his arms and chest. It helps ground him, feeling more inside his body than before.

“What time is it?” Bradley rasps as she rinses the cloth.

“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to think about it.” She peeks out of the door, checking the time. Her face is somber when she comes back to him. “It’s 3:20, honey.”

“Twenty years… she’s been gone for twenty years.” He reaches for her, and she easily complies, straddling his thighs when he tugs her hand.

They sit in silence, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I had a nightmare.” He starts, answering her silent question. “It was her death and the uranium mission back-to-back, losing her and then him.”

She hums, encouraging him to continue. She doesn’t know the details of that mission - her clearance level is high but not that high - but she knows that he and Mav barely made it back. Both of them brushing hands with death multiple times.

They have nightmares. Less frequently now that they’re a few years down the road, but they still happen. Mav dreams that he doesn’t save them, that one of the bogeys gets them before Hangman reaches them. Bradley’s feature him missing the helicopter, having to watch Mav bleed out.

“Then it was you. You were sick. It was the same thing as Mom, uterine cancer. And I couldn’t even say goodbye. You married someone else, and I wasn’t allowed in.”

She takes a sharp breath. That’s new.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mary. I love you so much, I think it would kill me.”

“Oh, honey.” She cradles his face, forcing him to look at her. “You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you more than anything. In two weeks, we’re going to be living together. When the time is right, we’re going to get married and have a family.”

She can't help but press a quick kiss to his mouth. “And I’m healthy. There’s no history of uterine or breast cancer in my family, and I just had my annual appointment last week. All the tests came back negative for bad things. Nothing is wrong. I'm totally healthy, okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. We can’t control everything, and sometimes bad things happen. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and scratchy. “I know it’s hard with what I do, but I promise you’re my number one thought when I’m in the air; coming home safe to you is my top priority.”

“Now, I’m gonna cry, Bradley.” They both let out watery laughs. “You’re such a sweet man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go back to bed; I need my beauty sleep before I meet your parents.” She pulls him up, and they fall asleep quickly, tucked together as the early morning light peeks through the curtains.

When they get to the cemetery the next afternoon, a red rose sits on the headstone. One step in front of him, Mary picks it up and brushes some leaves off the base. He watches as she places the flower back in its spot, plucking a few dandelions before she stands.

“There,” she says, brushing dirt off her hands, “that’s better.”

The wind picks up, twisting her long hair around, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. She’s very pretty. I’m working on proposing. We gotta do some stuff first, but it’s coming.” He mutters under his breath.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, baby doll. Want to help me put the blanket down?” His hat blows off, and he scowls at the tree that’s nearby, smiling when he hears her muffled giggle.

Miss you, dad.

part six will be coming next week! have a great weekend everyone!

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

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