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mytheoristavenue · 8 months ago

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TMNT 2012 Raphael Hamato x Reader 🍋 - Rough and Tumble

🥀 Commissioned by: @psypeachi

🥀 For questions about commissions, or to view full or partial commissions like this one, visit my Commission Diary for more info!

🥀 Part one here!

🥀 Divider belongs to @benkeibear

🥀 Summary: After dating Rap for almost a year, he begins to ache for you...

🥀 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, creampie, face sitting, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, dirty talk, teasing, dom!Raph, sub!reader, fem!reader, first time, virgin!Raph, virgin!Reader

🥀 Word Count: 4,175

Your relationship with Raph had been an utter whirlwind up until this point, starting on that faithful night, lying in your bed eating pizza and dripping grease on your cocktail dress. Nearly a year had passed since then, and not a day went by that the two of you weren’t absolutely enamored with one another. Raph hardly ever spoke of anything but you, gushing to his brothers behind your back, even more excruciatingly often than Donnie had over April. He held you in the highest regard- you hung the moon in his eyes, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been disappointed with the pace of things.

Though he’d never gathered the courage to profess it, Raph had an ache for you that no amount of kisses or cuddles could cure. He hungered- no, starved for you in a way that destroyed his sense of morality when he looked at you, blinking at his advances without a clue in the world. He felt endless guilt for the way he pictured your body and the unspeakable things he wanted to do to it, coupled with that innocent face you had. But the corruption was part of the fun.

-----

“Honey!” you beamed cheerfully, strolling into the lair. “I’m home, and I brought you something!”

“Well, hello to you too,” Leo grumbled, playfully rolling his eyes as he sat in a beanbag, flipping through TV channels.

“Sorry, Leo!” you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “I didn’t even see you, I was just excited to see-”

“Raph, I know.” He chuckled. “So, what’d you get him?” He asked, eyes never leaving the television.

Excitedly, you hurried over to him, crouching down at his side and pulling the contents of the bag you had out. “Our anniversary is coming up, and Raph mentioned wanting to learn how to kickbox, so I got us matching gloves and kneepads! See?” You explained, showing off one of each pair of gloves. Both were ruby red, with gold stitching and embroidery. “I even got them monogrammed! Do you think he’ll like them?”

The eldest turtle gave a kind smile as he handed you back the gift. “I know it,” he confirmed with a nod, beginning to turn his attention back to the TV. “He’s actually in the dojo now, you should go give them to him.” Without another word or thanks for the encouragement, you were gone, throwing the door to the dojo open. Leo rolled his eyes at your antics, continuing to channel surf. “You’re welcome.”

“Hi, honey!” you chirped again, your eyes falling on your boyfriend, who, upon seeing you, gleefully dropped what he was doing to run over and scoop you up.

“What’s up, baby?” He asked, pecking your lips as he set you down. “What’cha got there?”

“A present for you,” you teased, rocking from heel to toe. “Early anniversary gift.”

“Doll, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he sighed, taking the bag as you enthusiastically shoved it into his arms.

“I wanted to, besides, it’s for both of us.” you snickered while he began to dig through the bag.

“Oh my God,” he paused, shoulders slumping. “Baby, you didn’t-”

“I did.” You giggled, preparing for a hug of gratitude, which you immediately received.

“Babe, you’re the best. I love you so much, thank you.” Raph praised into your hair, his head resting atop yours. Moments later, he broke apart from you, slipping the gloves over his hands, admiring the fit and look of them.

“I got me a pair too, I thought we could learn to kickbox together!” you sang, dipping into the bag to fetch your own pair.

“Baby, I don’t know what to say, this is awesome.” He gushed, watching you with a dopey, lovesick smile.

“You don’t need to say anything, babe. But you can put up your dukes because I’m gonna kick your butt!”

-----

You did, in fact, not kick his butt. In fact, you hadn’t been able to land a single hit on him since you began sparring. Every punch you threw was redirected in a way that almost always landed you flat on your back, your lover looming over you with a cocky grin. Laid out on the mat for what you decided would be the last time, you huffed, growling as you shot up at him.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” Raph taunted, peridot eyes playful but full of an emotion you couldn’t place. “Gettin’ mad?”

“No!” you shouted bitterly. “I was just going easy on you!”

“Sure…” he laughed, turning his back on you, cracking his knuckles as he gloated. This was your opening. Gritting your teeth, you swept your leg out, kicking his feet out from under him before wrestling him to the floor. Before he could catch his bearings, Raph found himself in a headlock, your thighs squeezing the life from his throat as you twisted his arm and pulled it away from him.

“How’s that, huh?!” you hollered, pulling your meanest face. “You like that?!” Oh, did he. He never in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined you’d get him like this, and still be so oblivious to the effect you had on him at that. You took his silence as surrender, cheering for yourself as you rolled him into a new position, laying him out flat and sitting on his chest, arms pinned under your knees so he couldn’t escape. “Ha! I told you I was gonna kick your butt!”

Unbeknownst to you, Raph was coming undone beneath your weight, mind running free with all the most lewd ways he could take advantage of this. Ultimately, though struggling, he contained himself- that is, until you opened your mouth again, ruining his hardly-kept zen. “Not all big and bad now, are you?”

“Oh, baby, I’ll show your ass ‘big and bad’! C’mere!” With that and minimal effort on his part, you both were switched. You now laid beneath him as he straddled your waist, both of your wrists in a single hand as his other was planted firmly on your face, squishing your cheeks together.

There was a pause as dead silence hung in the air, neither of you moving a muscle, only gazing into each other’s eyes. Within seconds, your lips crashed against his, giving him all the consent he needed for now. A few soft moans tumbled over your lips in the few instances that they were unoccupied, stirring his stomach further into oblivion. His hand left your face, trailing down, lingering at your throat a moment before continuing, caressing your curves. To you, he was feeling you up, but in reality, Raph was mapping you out, meticulously learning and memorizing every dip, ridge, and curve.

A stir in the adjoined room made you both freeze, knowing that Master Splinter would punish you both to the fullest extent possible if he caught you making out in the dojo. Once all seemed clear, your beaux pulled you up from the floor before lugging you over his shoulder, much to your humiliation. “R-Raphael Hamato! You put me down this instant!” you scolded deaf ears as he continued to the door. “You are not carrying me like this in front of your brothers!” That was precisely what he was going to do.

-----

After what could only be described as a walk of shame, you were escorted to his bedroom, where you were immediately tossed on his bed. “W-Wait-” you halfheartedly protested.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he huffed, backing up a bit. “Guess I got kinda carried away.” he laughed sheepishly, crawling closer again. “I just…I get so riled up when I’m with you, especially when you’re on top of me like that- Fuck, you just look so pretty.”

Though it wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment your looks, the way he said it made you feel like it was the first time hearing it. It felt just like how he showered you with praise that first night.

“Y-You think I’m pretty when I sit on top of you..?” you repeated, more to hear it from your own lips than to have the statement clarified. He simply nodded in response, eyes glued to your lips, leaning in as if he wasn’t actually in tune with the world around him.

“The prettiest, baby,” he muttered, capturing your kiss again, crawling between your bent knees to loom over you like before. “So so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Raph, you’re making me nervous…” you confessed between kisses. “You’re not usually this forward…”

For a moment, he backed away again, the image of you rejecting his advances flashing through his mind. Mossy eyes peered up into yours, searching for anything to indicate emotion, but fell short- you were so conflicted. On one hand, you’d never had much sexual experience, and the thought of potentially being a bad lay terrified you. You’d heard stories of boys dumping girls due to lack of experience, and no matter how close you two were, that fear was nearly impossible to shake. Though, on the other hand, it was hard to ignore the way his praise made you melt like you were digesting magma- so was the way your legs shook at the prospect.

“Sorry…” he finally sighed, out of breath while his fingers absent-mindedly gripped at any bit of you they could reach. “I’m not tryna’ make you uncomfortable but,” he paused, breath hitching in his throat as he pictured you. “Baby I want you, so so so bad.”

The revelation left you reeling, fuzzy-headed with tummy churning. Suddenly, everything was so clear. It all made sense, the positions you find yourselves in, the way he’d shower you with compliments so close to your ear you could hardly hear them. “Y-You…” you trailed, breathing labored, and stuck in your windpipe. “Want me...?”

Raph sighed, finally you understood how he burned for you. “Yes, baby. I want you real bad. You have no idea the shit I wanna do to you.” Seeing you ease into the idea, he took the liberty of lifting your hand, planting kisses up your arm. He thought it’d be a romantic way to gently push forward, but all that went out the window when he heard you softly whimper:

“Show me how bad…?”

In an instant, he was on you, kissing your lips roughly, guiding your arms around his neck while he slowly began to trail down your jaw. This wasn’t the first time you’d made out to the point of fondling and drooling all over each other’s throats but this time was special- you could feel it. You whined under his touch as his cold fingers inched up under the hem of your shirt. Writhing at the sensation, you instinctively arched your back in a vain effort to be closer to him. Chuckling at you, he slipped an arm under your back, holding you against him as he gnawed at your flesh, leaving mild bruises peppered along your neck and should as he went. “Oh, Raph…” you cried, overwhelmed by the lust bubbling inside you.

“Love it when you say my name like that,” he purred into your collarbone. “Fuck, I wanna do everything to you…”

“Tell me…” you whispered, barely audibly. “Tell me all the dirty things you think about…”

Raph shuddered, hearing those words in your voice as he buried his face into your shoulder. “Wanna taste that sweet pussy of yours, fuck this throat,” he groaned, fingers ghosting over your flesh, threatening to choke you. “Want you to ride me ‘til the sun comes up.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, struggling to keep a confident face as his words hit straight to your womb.

“Not even close, baby.” He smirked against your skin. “Want you every way.”

Sitting up against him, you began to shift positions. You were tired of laying there, letting him do all the work- you needed to show that you wanted him equally so. “In that case,” you said airily, popping up on top. “I'm all yours, baby.”

-----

Raph was beginning to feel a sting in his bottom lip, having now definitely broken skin. Biting it was the only thing he could do to keep himself together. His fingers had tangled themselves in your hair as one arm rested behind his head for support. You’d never thought he’d be so vocal when experiencing pleasure, but there he was, lounging in bed, moaning, whining, cussing, and praising all at the same time. It made you sticky knowing you were doing this to him, reducing him to putty in your hands- or rather in your mouth.

It had taken you a minute to get the hang of this, and a few directions from him, such as “A-Ah, no teeth baby- fuck yeah, that's it!” but you felt like you were a pro at this point. Diligently, your head bobbed you and down nearly his full length, only stopping when your nose smooshed against his shell or his tip tickled the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, you’re so fuckin’ good at this, baby.” he groaned guiding your head gently. “Taking this dick like a fuckin’ champ.” You hummed in response, loving his praise and how you made him feel. “Can’t wait to eat up that little pussy, gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Jaw tired, you decided to take his talkativeness as an opportunity for rest, pulling off him with a pop. Instead, you nuzzled your face against his crotch, languidly pumping him in your fist. “Tell me how you want me baby.” you cooed, peppering kisses along his shaft.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum if you keep talkin’ like that…” he groaned, bucking his hips up, missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I better stop then…” you teased lustily, halting your motion altogether and releasing your grip just enough so all he could feel was your fingertips and palm ghosting against him.

“Baby, don’t do this to me,” Raph whined, eyes screwed shut and breathing heavily. “Damnit, I was so close.” You peered down at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you stifled a giggle. It felt amazing to be in control of him after all this time. The power was intoxicating, that was until he grew tired of your taunts and ripped it away from you.

-----

All you could do was scream, hoping nobody else could hear your hysterics as your hips bucked, begging for amazing friction. You were now reduced to ankle socks and a bra, pushed up to reveal your bouncing breasts. Completely naked from the waist down, you now sat, knees on either side of his head, riding his face. The way his tongue worked you was overwhelming, bringing tears to your eyes, as you sobbed for him. “O-Oh my God, Raph-! I-It feels so-!” You were hardly able to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. “Good!”

Beneath you, Raph burring himself between your thighs, tongue parting your labia and suckling on your swollen clit like it could have been his last meal, moaning the entire time. You were delicious, sweeter tasting than he could’ve possibly imagined. He was addicted to the lack of air, suffocated with your needy heat. It was enough to make him absent-mindedly rock his hips with the rhythm of yours. He might have touched himself had it not been for the grip his hands had on your hips that he was unwilling to part with.

The feeling came upon you so suddenly that you almost didn't recognize it. It wasn’t like when you’d done things by yourself, there was no build-up, no knot snapping taught. It was as if he’d pushed a button that instantly sent you over the edge. “B-Baby!” you shrieked, almost frightened of the spontaneous intense wave of pleasure washing over you. “I-I think I’m-!” Before you could finish your decree, a long, cracking, needy croon was fished from your throat as you rode out the sudden orgasm.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl, let it all out,” your lover encouraged, voice muffled as he continued to work you through your high. “Cum all over my face, pretty-pretty.” You did as he commanded, doing nothing to stop your sweet cream from glazing his mouth and cheeks. Exhausted and emotional, you slid down him and your shoulders slumped as you put your weight in your palms, resting them on his chest. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He smirked, rubbing your thigh comfortingly.

“You need a minute, baby?” He asked, smiling gently up at your flushed face. To his surprise, you urgently shook your head in protest.

“N-No! I’m not done.” you decided, sliding down his plastron. “I wanna go all the way with you…” Your answer stunned him a bit and his smile faded.

“Are you sure, doll? You look pretty tired.” he rationalized. “If we stop here, I won’t be mad, I’ll just finish myself off later.”

Your heart melted at his concern for your comfort, but you still refused. “No,” you huffed, mounting his lap. “I wanna feel you inside me,” You could feel his cock stiffen against your overly sensitive clit, making your hips twitch on contact. Suddenly, a tear slipped from your pleading eye and you looked into him needily. “Please, Raphael…” He tensed, you only used his full name when it was urgent. “I need you to make love to me…”

-----

Initially, the anguish was nearly unbearable, forcing him to pull out several times, but eventually, you got used to the full feeling, only needing now to overcome the sting. Raph was a perfect gentleman throughout, staying perfectly still unless instructed otherwise, and letting you take the lead. “T-Touch me, please…” you begged, needing some sort of distraction from the pain. His palm quickly found your breast, groping and admiring it with one hand while the other stayed on you, keeping you firmly planted against him.

“You have the nicest body, (Y/N)...” he soothed, brushing a thumb over your perked nipple. “Perfect tits, smooth skin, pretty face,” he rambled on, showering you with compliments, waiting for your face to unwrinkle. When it didn’t he thought of something else. “Here, doll,” he cooed, taking both hands off you to guide yours up to your chest. “Play with these for me, ‘kay?” You nodded, obediently fondling yourself with little shame. One hand found its back home on the hump of your hip, while the other came up to your lips, prompting you to wet the fingers. You did so, parting your lips and sucking both thick digits before watching them sink between your thighs.

Soothed by the aid, you hardly even notice when you’d begun to rock your hips, seeking more stimulation against your clit. At first, the movement was minuscule, but soon, you bounced enough to feel his tip bottom out, making you shriek. Beneath you, Raph groaned gutturally at deep penetration and the way you clenched around him when surprised. As if everything fell into place at once, you nodded, ready to officially begin. Wasting no time, he began pumping into you at a painfully slow pace with deep, meaningful strokes.

You hated this, though you couldn’t place why. It was like he was teasing you going so slowly. “R-Raph…faster…” you whimpered, hands roaming your own body. That was all the consent he needed to kick it up a gear, clamping both hands on your hips and picking up pace to a steady rhythm. Before you knew it, you were on cloud nine, bouncing yourself in time with his thrusts, gaining momentum and speed as time drug on.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, brows knitting together. “Yeah, baby just bounce on my cock, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, lost in never before felt pleasure.

“You love riding my dick, don’t you princess?” He asked, breathing heavily, trying to distract himself from cumming too early from the excellent squeeze you offered.

“Yes, sir.” you replied with a breathy moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

“How much?” he pressed, the pace picking up to breakneck speed as he brutalized your cervix.

“So fucking much!” you gasped, nearly screaming at the tension building inside as he pounded into you.

“Tell me how much you love riding this dick, baby,” he demanded. “C’mon and be a good girl and tell me,”

Humiliation bubbled inside of your stomach in a way that fueled your fire. Face beet red you shyly muttered: “I-I love…r-riding your dick…” Suddenly, all stimulation ceased and Raph fell as still as the eye of a storm. Looking down, you panicked, slightly annoyed. “W-What? Why’d you stop?” He ignored you, a cocky grin playing on his lips. “G-Go, please!” you begged, even trying to lift yourself off of him to bounce on him again, but his grip on your waist held you cemented to him, but still starving. “W-What gives, babe? Please go!”

“Louder.”

“W-Wha-?” you blushed impossibly deeper, confused and frustrated to bits.

“Say it louder,” he repeated unrelenting.

“Raph-!” you squealed, clicking the pieces together. “Enough games, please!” You continued to struggle against his grip to fuck yourself on his cock, to no avail.

“I’m not gonna finish fucking you until you scream for me.” he flirted darkly. “I want everyone to know who makes you feel this good.” You resisted further, before finally giving in.

“I-I love riding your dick…” you said, nearly in a normal speaking voice. Still, he refused to move.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you?” He teased, leaning closer as if to hear you better.

“I said I love riding your dick!” barely shouted, relieved to feel the very slightest friction.

“One more time, with feeling and I’ll give it to you so good,” he promised, shallowly rocking his hips. “One more time, baby, loud and proud for me.”

“Please fuck me baby, I love riding your fucking dick!” you finally cried out, gritting your teeth and screaming lewdly into the air when he started again, pounding into you harshly.

“Atta girl!” he purred, locking in on finishing you for good. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-Yes!,” you gasped, both to the question and just as a general statement. “Yes, yes, yes yes, oh, right there!”

“Fuck baby,” Raph crooned, his toes curling as tension built in his stomach. “You feel so damn good.” As if on cue, he shuddered, coming undone even more quickly upon feeling your messy hole clench around him.

“G-God, Raph, I’m so close!” you wept, slopping rutting your hips against his. “I-I’m gonna-!” Words tumbled over your lips, but the capacity for thought had long since dissolved, only being replaced with a lust that would permanently alter your brain chemistry.

Laid out under you, Raph was in a similar state, mind fogged by your visage and feel and the fact that he had you all to himself. “C-Can’t believe you’re all mine,” He mumbled through gritting teeth and furrowed brows. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine-” He began to chant in tune with his brutal thrusts until finally, he tipped over the edge with a string of obscenities.

Likewise, you’d also been reduced to less than coherent speech, simply moaning and whimpering, having entirely given up talking dirty. You could feel it when he came- the bruising grip his fingers had on your thighs, the ache in your tummy from how he’d rearranged your guts, even the warm spurt that filled any gaps his cock hadn’t been able to occupy. Not that you could put two and two together, too focused on your own orgasm as it just began to breach.

The sensation rocked you, filling you with a buzzy warmth you’d never been able to achieve before. It felt so special to feel this for the first time with someone you loved, you thought as you came down from your high, still seeing white. Absent-mindedly, your hands blindly searched for his, unsure for a moment if it had been a dream. You were relieved to feel his large hand envelope yours, softly caressing your fingers with his thumb.

“I’m right here, baby,” he soothed, almost as if he’d read your mind. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You smiled at this, tiredly pushing against him to give just enough space for his softening member to flop out of you. You shuddered at the empty feeling and the way his seed leaked out of you in what felt like gallons. Not caring enough to clean up right away, you simply laid ontop of him, head resting just under his chin.

“I love you…” you said, as less of a reminder than a need for validation in your fragile state.

“I love you too, dollface.” he sighed, petting your hair. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Mhmm…” you hummed in response, threatening to nod off.

“Think this’ll happen again?” he wondered aloud, propping his head up with a bent arm.

“Maybe…” you replied softly, secretly wishing he’d shut up and let you sleep already.

“Well, if it does, we should probably use a condom next time.”

🥀 Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog, comment, and follow for more content! If you enjoy my TMNT content, consider checking out my other works here!

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfarm-blog @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream-15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #x reader #tmnt x reader #raph smut #raphael lemons #raphael smut #raphael x reader #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #raphael tmnt #raphael hamato #raphael hamato x reader #2012 raph x reader #raph x reader smut #raph x reader lemon

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two-white-butterflies · 2 months ago

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maybe this time

Description: Two old friends meet again, wearing older faces. Well, I guess you know how this works.

In which, you have a flawed relationship, a flawed breakup and a flawed reunion with the one that you love the most.

Pairing: lawyer!thranduil/fem!reader (ethnicity not specified)

Warnings: angst, age gap.

AUGUST 2012

It won't end just because I say no.

Three days ago, the worst thing happened. You found an engagement ring in your boyfriend's coat pocket. Gods, yes you envisioned a successful future with him inside of it - but getting married is too soon! "I think we need to talk," you keep your voice low.

You couldn't even look him in the eye, rather you were focused on the herringbone floors of your NYC apartment. His eyes light up at the sight of you. His girlfriend of five-years. His girlfriend who survived the hell of a law-school with him, and stood beside him while he built his law firm from ground up. His girlfriend. His future fiancee.

"What is it about?" He raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot on the sofa - motioning for you to sit beside him. You reluctantly comply, burying yourself deep into his chest and inhaling his scent of - well, there is nothing that can describe his scent.

"I found something in your coat yesterday," his grip tightens around your waist. "- I don't think I'm ready to get married." you quickly add, not leaving enough time for him to respond.

There were still a million things you wanted to do on your own. "Oh," usually a very composed lawyer, but now unable to form a comprehensible sentence. "I-I," he stumbled in his speech, unaware that his grip loosened around your body and you now moved away.

"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account." He apologized. His eyes were watery, he had unbelievable restraint when it came to fighting in court battles but the thought of losing you makes him cry. "Is there any reason for that? If you are comfortable with sharing?" He asks taking unnoticeable deep breaths.

You stare at the floor again, playing with the rings on your finger. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I'm in a place where marriage is a choice yet." You breathed. "- I'm gonna finish med-school this year. I want to be a neurosurgeon. I don't think that I'll be able to balance that while being married and trying to build a family of our own." You explained.

Both of you unwilling to address the elephant in the room.

25 and 34.

It wasn't an age chasm per se, but you were in different points of your lives. Thranduil was already successful - known in his field as the thorn in every defendant's side, and you - well, no one even knew you in the university that you were studying in.

"I don't even know if I want to have children," your voice turns into a whisper at the last sentence. His features merge into something indescribable - sadness and frustration merged into one.

He's a good man. He's never forced you to do something that you didn't want to do with your entire heart, and it is because of that reason - you're mad at him. Because you know that he'll still stand beside you, make the sacrifice of never getting married or never having children if it meant being with you.

You are not God, for anyone to make that sacrifice for.

"That's alright. Children are annoying." He answers, and you chuckle. "You are so good at lying," you mused. "- but I know that kids are the only thing you want in this life." You read him like an open book.

He reaches for your hands, entwining it with his. "Hey, we're going to get through this. I'm glad that you were comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I completely understand and I am not disappointed." He informs, he cages you in an embrace, and you lean deeper into his touch until both of you were slumped on the couch.

"I know that you feel pressured because all your friends are getting married. I don't wanna be that bitch who sounds so selfish-"

"You are not selfish for being yourself. You don't owe me anything." He corrects, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Remember in our first date, I asked you what your favorite color was." He reminded and you felt blessed to have a lawyer as a boyfriend, for he seldom forgets.

"Mine was magenta, and you didn't even tell me what your favorite color was that day. All you did was tease me about magenta." You chuckled, although that feeling still lingered on your chest.

"Well, I'd live in a magenta house if it meant living with you." Thranduil smiles, and you remember smiling in return. Phew, that worked out better than I imagined.

It's all going to be better in the end. You'll finish med-school, and deal with neurosurgery. Then hopefully, you do get married to him.

Six months later you were chosen to work in a hospital in Singapore. A country known for being a pioneer in Asian healthcare. It was a pleasure to be here, you made a lot of friends - and were able to learn how to do things on your own, without the help of Thranduil.

Thranduil Oropher Went out to grab some groceries. I got grapes but I remembered that you aren't here ):

You might be time to get over your grape-hate 🙏🏻

Thranduil Oropher Never. I gave them to Elrond.

You aww i bet the twins loved it Seen 4:52pm

A sigh escapes your mouth seeing that he was yet to reply to your message. It was 5am in the morning back in NYC.

He's probably asleep or getting ready for work.

The only difficult thing in working in Singapore was the IDL. When he's awake, you're asleep and vice versa. "Made you some coffee," Anchilee offers, placing the cup of joe on your desk. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Thank you," you mumbled taking a sip.

"Having relationship problems?" She asks, and you nod. "It's really tough since he's halfway across the world," you breathed. "It's pretty usual for couples to hit a rocky road especially because of distance. A lot of them break up, but I think your relationship is strong enough to stand against the test of time." She speaks.

Oh yeah, about that. You have doubts.

Your phone rings. Thranduil Oropher is calling... you slide to answer. "Hello?" You ask. "Hi, sorry I'm in the middle of driving." You hear his voice on the other line. "Drive safe, you shouldn't be calling me," you gently scolded him but he responds with a silence - probably focusing on the road. "How are you?" He asks.

Even after all these years, his voice still brings warmth to your soul. "I'm okay, I'm in the middle of my lunch break and I have to shadow an operation later. How about you? You're a little early for work." You make an observation, and he hums. "Early bird gets the worms. But seriously speaking I want to focus on this high-profile case, anyways, you are free next week right?" He strangely asks.

"Yep, I might spend the entire week playing DOTA, which I do not have an addiction to, an intern just recommended the game to me." You put out a quick disclaimer before he could scold you about the dangers of addiction to online games. "Well, put your computer away because I booked tickets to go there. Let's have fun, maybe look around the city since you tell me you've never done." He says.

You wanted to feel happy, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. I love him, but I'm starting to love being alone by myself. The life that you built here in Singapore. It is lonely, and you like it.

"That's amazing, do you want me to pick you up at the airport?" You inquired, concern still dripping from your tone. "No, I'll take the train and I'll stop by to buy some iced coffee and fries." He narrates his game plan. You don't doubt his ability to navigate a foreign country.

"Ohh, please grab the ones from McDonalds. It'll be better if you buy the McDonalds from there, the fries here don't hit the same." You requested, and he chuckles. "Okay, I will smuggle American fries to Singapore." He promised.

"Thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, goodbye."

"Bye."

(DECEMBER 2018)

Thranduil never came to Singapore. You had a fight a day before his flight. You won't go into the details, but it was horrible - for the lack of better words. There were two types of fights: one that can be fixed by a few hugs and kisses, and some that are much better unresolved.

Six years later, and you want to believe that you've forgotten about him. My December is sad, because I miss you. You hear the music sing from outside of your door, damn, your neighbor always has that speaker on. A sigh escapes your mouth and you opt to put headphones on, "I swear to god," you mumbled while opening your gmail account to check for any important emails.

[email protected] sent an email! Just Now

"What the fuck!" You close your laptop shut.

You open the laptop slightly, as if the email was going to leap out of its feet and jump at you. "Holy fuck, why would he email me?" Your throat suddenly felt dry. You click on the dash and the email appears.

[email protected]

Good evening.

I have a confession to make, the first time I saw you, I liked you.

I've spent a lot of time with people, both men and women, and I've taken them to fancier restaurants than the restaurant you took me on our first date, the only difference was - I liked you, I hated them.

Out of all the people I saw you were the only person to have ordered a pain au chocolat during breakfast. The only person who'd order an iced coffee the first thing in the morning. I told myself, I like this girl. She's going to be my wife.

You have something special inside of you. You have that spirit. You are by far the bravest girl I've ever met. Days, weeks, and months passed. I don't know if it's because you opened your heart to me, but we became lovers. I don't know if it's because I'm good at praying, or if it's just because I'm the lord's chosen. I never thought that love could be this exciting. I love every moment. I love every bit of you.

Your love. Your kindness. Your gentle disposition.

We bared our souls to each other. Because of you, I started believing in myself. I survived through law-school and the struggle of ensuring that my law firm wouldn't fail. Because of you, I found the beauty in law, I started to fight for what I believed in. I began to be a better person. I started to be brave.

Five years together, and I thought we were good. More than five years going on forever, or so I thought. What happened? Why did we break up? I'm writing this email a few weeks after our breakup. Elrond has been scolding me as I've only been staring at my flight tickets for the entire week. I've been calling your phone.

But today, I decided to stop bothering you.

I have decided to let you be, and give you the space that you need. That's why I'm sending this email, six years from today. You'll be thirty-one years old by then. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you were able to do everything that you wanted to do, everything that I stopped you from doing because I wanted you to marry me, because I wanted to chain you to me, unable to comprehend that I was doing the opposite of what you did to me.

I hope that after six years, you're able to decide if you want to be with me forever. I'll wait, knowing that one day, I'll be back. I will do everything it takes to bring you back. I will never lose hope that we will have our second chance.

Yours, Thranduil.

"Shit." The first words that escaped your mouth once you realized that you had been crying. You silently wiped the tears from your eyes. If only you knew that he felt this way back then.

Tauriel hands you a glass of champagne. "Thank you for attending my party. I've been begging you for years now." She places a hand on your back, guiding you to navigate the sea of people in the living room. "I'm really busy in the hospital, and this is my only real weekend after months of waiting." You chuckled, taking a sip of the fizzing champagne.

Honestly, you needed this party after the whirlwind of emotions that you felt last night. "It must suck to be a surgeon, but then again with that paycheck, I'd lick a Walmart bathroom." She whispers the last part in a hush, and a slight giggle escapes your mouth.

"What are we celebrating anyways?" You ask.

"My dad is retiring." She informs, and a chill runs down your spine. Right, her dad works for Thranduil. I hope that he's not here.

"Congratulations, finally the beginning of a well deserved vacation." You forced yourself to speak, finally catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. Thranduil, the man that loved you.

He sees you too, and your eyes momentarily meet.

31 and 40.

Tauriel sees your lingering stare. "Oh, that's my dad's boss. Justice Thranduil Oropher, he's single. I think he used to have a girlfriend, but he was too heartbroken and he never dated anyone again." She whispers again, moving you into a more secluded space.

Tauriel is your best friend (in the whole world).

"He's my ex," you blurt out and she almost chokes on her piña colada. "What the fuck!" She yells, her face suddenly red at the sudden reveal of the truth. "Why did you break up with him?" She interrogated.

Obviously, no one in their right mind would ever break up with him. He was everything that a woman desired, tall, handsome, intelligent and rich - and things wouldn't have ended the way it did, if the circumstances had been different. "I get it that you're this beautiful hotshot surgeon, but he's seriously the only man who fits your standards. Correction, the only living man." Tauriel glares at you.

She was going to give you another monologue about how you 'fumbled the bag', but alas you will not give her that chance. "It's a long story. We just had really wrong timing," you shook your head.

It could have ended differently.

You should have said yes to his proposal, regardless of the feelings of sadness you felt at first. "Maybe this time?" Tauriel raised an eyebrow, teasing you. "Maybe not," You giggled.

"Hello," a voice from behind you greets.

This better be -

You are greeted with an unfamiliar face. "I'm Aragorn. Nice to meet you." He greets and you introduce yourself while shaking his hand. He was quite an eccentric looking figure, he had a clean shaven face, and he had a tattoo on his pointer finger.

"Oh you're that guy in the band." You smile, remembering the nights you spent singing his songs. "Yeah, the Fellowship." He confirms.

"- I'm sorry for ambushing you, but I felt alone in a sea filled of distinguished professionals dressed to the nines, and I don't mean to offend but.."

"I'm alone." You cut him off with a chuckle. "- it's alright, I basically have no social life as my work takes up the majority of time." You explained. To other people, being on the call 24/7 was hell, but to you it was the good type of hell - if saving people can be called that. "You are the surgeon friend of Tauriel." He remembers.

"Are you friends with her too?" You inquired and he shakes his head. "A friend of a friend," he corrects.

Before you could reply to him, he glances at the man behind you.

You turn around, and see Thranduil.

"If you will excuse me," Aragorn pats your shoulder.

The sight of him still brings such warm feelings to your heart, filling your body with joy. There was silence between you. A silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

"You still look the same," he breaks the silence. "You look different," you answered. He had a different hairstyle. He wore a black suit instead of the dark blue that he always wears. He smelled like powdery flowers instead of after-shave. He is different.

"I hope that that's a compliment," he cracks a smile.

Wow, you're beginning to sound like two old friends, but he doesn't want to be friends. He doesn't even want to talk to you unless it all goes back to normal. "How you've been?" You asked, mirroring his smile, attempting to navigate a conversation with him. "I've been worst, how about you?" He answers vaguely, no longer able to speak random flowing sentences about small occurrences in his daily life.

His response was a generic response now.

Something that flows languidly out of his tongue.

How are you? I'm okay. Are you alright? Yeah.

"I think I am worst," your nose scrunches up.

He stares at you, the same indescribable look that he wore when you first fought. How about now? His eyes said. Let's try again. His silence said far louder than words. "Do you think that things could have ended more differently?" You inquired, and he is bitterly reminded of your bluntness (a feature he still adores.)

"You got the email," he smiles bitterly.

"I managed to read through it, and I don't really know what to do." You shrugged, the distance between you becoming closer and closer. "You can delete the email." He jokes, "- I felt really guilty when we called things off. I felt like I was losing the love of my life, and I was. I did. But I was also really thankful that it ended, because being alone taught me a lot of things. I'm not the same person anymore." Your teeth burrows into the insides of your cheeks.

"It was the wrong time. We've never good timing," he comments, and you are thrown back into that video you made during New Year's Eve 2010, where you were both a minute too soon in celebrating the New Year. "I'm miserable." You admit.

Five friends. A million dollars in your bank account. A real estate portfolio, and you were miserable.

His features softened.

And you knew that he was miserable too.

"When you're a judge, you learn how to look at life in a different perspective. They say that criminals are vital to society because without them there wouldn't be cops, or lawyers or Justices like me. When you left, I figured that heartbreak is vital because it means that there is more room for love. But despite that, my heart still didn't have room for anyone - no other love other than yours, no other sadness." He takes a step forward, and you were thankful to have been in the secluded part of the gardens.

"- but if you love me just because you love me, that is not an enough reason. Love in its essence cannot feed a starving mouth. There needs to be respect, and kindness. Respect and kindness that was there between us, six years ago, but wasn't strong enough to fight against the test of time." He places his hands on your shoulders.

"Let's start again, as stronger people, and maybe this time it'll be the right timing." You proposed, your eyes having a conversation of its own. Love is always a beating risk, but that is part of the thrill.

A bird falls from its nest to learn how to fly.

"Let's try again, then." He agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And somehow, that forehead kiss was more intimate than any kiss to the lips.

A/N: will always stand on the fact that if Thranduil was in the modern era he'd be a lawyer or a businessman. I always end up choosing lawyer cuz of personal opinions.

If you love my Thranduil fics just follow me and turn the notifs on. I unfortunately don't have enough time to do tags :((

Inspired by Starting Over Again (2014) although, I am not a Toni Gonzaga defender.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfic #thranduil imagines #thranduil wife #thranduil #modern thranduil #thranduil imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit smut

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

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can you wrote about harry posting the mirror selfie with the 1d shirt on his story?

i had this in my drafts, it’s short but cute <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Harry is a very private person and that's no secret to anyone.

However, he likes to share personal moments with his friends and family from time to time, and the way he does that is with his infamous alternative private instagram account that only a few people have access to.

Sometimes he forgets to switch accounts when he wants to post something and he ends up posting to his millions of fans and followers, the first time it happened he posted a picture of a shirt that said "Why? Because I'm the mom! That's why", and the other times were a picture of his tv, one of his girlfriend posing for the camera and one of them together.

He claims to get better at social media the more he uses it but the truth is that he still has little incidents like that.

"Where you going?" YN asked from the couch of their suit in Sydney, immersed on the latest episode of The Last Of Us, the tv show she was obssesed with at the moment.

"I want to hit the gym before we have to leave for the show, wanna join?" Harry asked as he collected his things and put them in his duffel bag.

"You know I don't," YN shrugged and Harry rolled his eyes with affection, it's like his girlfriend was allergic to physical activities, "Wait a minute, turn around." she spoke again and Harry turned on his hills immediately

"What, is something wrong?"

"Oh my god! What is that outfit?" YN couldn't help but laugh when she got a good glimpse of him, he was wearing a One Direction shirt from 2012 as his outfit to the gym.

"Do you like it? I think it's pretty dashing". Harry put his hands on his hips as if he was posing and you couldn't help but laugh again.

"It's amazing, truly flattering." Harry giggled as she spoke and placed a kiss to her cheek before leaving for the gym.

After an hour and a half of excising and snapping a few mirror selfies with his new favorite shirt that he was man enough to admit he did, Harry headed back to the hotel suit, finding his girlfriend getting ready to leave for the stadium, they headed to the back of the hotel and got in the SUV that was waiting for them to take them there.

"Fuck! I can't believe I did this again! Shit!" Harry said after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, alarming YN and making her turn to look at him.

"What do you mean? What did you do?" YN matched his tone, trying to get a glimpse at the phone in his hand.

"I posted a story to my main Instagram account, shit!"

YN couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend, it wasn't the first time it happened and surely it wouldn't be the last.

"What did you even post?" YN tried to get a glimpse of his phone again, noticing that he already deleted the story.

And when he tuned his phone to show her the picture, she couldn't help but let out a squal.

"No way! You shouldn't have deleted it."

"It's going to be in internet forever now."

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

#harry styles fake instagram #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles story #harry styles fanfic #harrysfolklore #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles request #harry styles drabble #harry styles fan fiction

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oswildin · 2 months ago

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Debated making this, but oh well, here we are…

I rewatched the Loki series.

Going to add here quickly that I have been a fan of Loki since 2012/2013, and I personally relate to his character for a multitude of reasons.

Now, I enjoy the series, but I wish they made it more character focused than they had. I do feel like they prioritised story in terms of making it fit the next phase over exploring and expanding on Loki’s character to some degree (a lot of it was surface level).

For example, I would’ve loved to have seen:

Exploring Loki’s Jotun heritage, even if it was a variant of him in the void that embraced it, dropped his aesir form, a conversation between Loki and his Jotun variant as they explain why they chose to embrace it, giving a different view to maybe how our Loki sees himself/the Jotuns. If ‘What If’ could have a frost giant Loki variant, why couldn’t the show?

Expanding upon what happened to Loki during that year after his fall from the Bifrost. The reason for this is self explanatory really, it would add more lore/depth to his experiences/actions during the Avengers. Maybe address the trauma he has from it.

Loki fighting with his so-called ‘desire’ for a throne more. By this I mean, I felt he flipped pretty quickly from his plan to overthrow the time keepers to just following along with Sylvie - which is fine, but I kinda thought there would be more push back from him. I get it was a life or death situation and Loki’s whole thing is ‘survival’, but it would’ve added to their dynamic and the fact the writers clearly wanted to push how Sylvie was different to other Loki’s.

Exploring Sylvie’s backstory more. It really did feel like it was an afterthought, which is a shame. I suppose they left it ambiguous for certain reasons, but I think they should’ve had more flashback scenes of what Sylvie could remember. I think it would’ve helped people understand and relate to her more. (I do love her though).

Actually showed Loki’s gender fluidity & shapeshifting ability more. Again, self explanatory really & important to his character, plus the whole implied only ‘woman variant’ thing with Sylvie should’ve not been a thing, like at all.

They should’ve given Loki more time to process everything. This show really should’ve had 8 episodes each season, I get that’s not the writers fault, likely Disney/marvel’s doing. Perhaps then the shift in his character wouldn’t have felt so jarring, especially considering he’s 2012 Loki. I do agree they wrote him as if he was Ragnarok!Loki, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it just felt jarring considering the last we saw of this Loki was Avengers. But then I could also argue that maybe he thought ‘what’s the point of it’ because the TVA know everything about him, but I digress.

Used Sylvie more in S2. It did feel like they didn’t quite know what to do with her, her and Loki clearly just needed to sit and discuss the citadel fight, but the closest thing we got is in EP3 where Sylvie says ‘this is all rather familiar, isn’t it?’, referencing their different/opposing opinions on the TVA/He Who Remains. And also maybe the pie room scene, but it’s very vague/not directly addressed.

Explored the fact that Mobius is not a good guy more. Because, he isn’t. And that’s okay. To me, the whole point of the show is based on Loki’s quote of ‘no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad’, and whilst they do reference Mobius’ own morally grey actions/traits, they don’t particularly make it clear and most just see him as this ‘happy go lucky old man who likes pie and loves Loki variants’. In fact, I actually really liked the scene where Sylvie confronts him - which is a very unpopular opinion to have it seems, lol.

Delved into the psychology of Loki further than surface level/what we already know about him. Yes, we know he’s the God of Mischief. Yes, we know he isn’t evil. Yes, we know he is redeemable. Yes, we know he’s cunning, manipulative and selfish. We get that he projects this ‘illusion’ of himself, but it was only really mentioned in S1 EP1, maybe slightly EP2, before it’s never really mentioned again. I suppose S2 does this to a degree with the bar scene and EP5 of S1 in the time cell with Sif - also I think they tried to take the narcissist angle from the pov that it’s because of his low self-esteem as to why he needs validation and it’s a defence mechanism, but they didn’t particularly make that clear and made it seem like he just thinks highly of himself.

I know it seems like I have a lot of issues with the show, and I do, but I still enjoyed it. It’s okay to be critical of a piece of media and still enjoy it.

I do prefer S2 to S1, mostly because I prefer the direction they took it in and whilst I, of course, wanted better for Loki, I can’t deny S2 EP6 is a stunning finale. I sobbed so hard during the ending and still feel the grief that I actually lost someone I knew personally. But I also have hope that this means Loki is now a main player in the next phase (am I delusional? Maybe).

I enjoyed the dynamics, the back and forth/chemistry, the story was interesting, the set & costume design, the acting, the directing/colour grading, the music (Natalie Holt, you are genius), the emotions, the fun, the characters…

So this is not a hate post by any means, I will once again state, I enjoyed the show. But, I do have issues with it, and that’s okay too.

Please, dni if you’re just going to be argumentative or confrontational. I also don’t want to hear that just because I enjoyed the show that I’m ‘not a real fan’ lmao. I’m sorry, but I’ve been a Loki stan for over a decade, and I will not have someone tell me I’m not a real fan because of a piece of fictional media. Also, please do not mention anything regarding ships on this post, I do not care for it because it always ends up in arguments and I am a multishipper so I don’t tend to fight for any side. Thank you! :) /gen

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki series #media critique #marvel #mcu #loki disney+

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pascallatte · 2 years ago

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Oi, Pedro!!

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: Y/N and Pedro’s friendship from the pov of fans and friends collected in 2012.

Date: December 2012

Warnings: age gap but still platonic!reader but with a hint of something cause 👀 friends don't- you know what you’ll know once you read it. a curse word.

A VIDEO COMPILATION OF Y/N AND PEDRO'S "FRIENDSHIP" the year 2012.

P.s. This contains videos posted by fans and friends so this is the quick buildup of their relationship when they were seen together last April to November 2012

Vid 1: caught by fans last April, doing an ice cream run the night before Pedro’s birthday.

Whispers were heard as the video started, the camera clears out and zoomed in on the pair on the far side of the sidewalk.

“Is that really them?” the guy walking ahead asks.

“Of course, I know and I’m sure that’s Y/N.” The one who’s recording zooms in on the pair.

“Oh my Godd” she let out a loud gasp as she shook her male friend,” She’s with Pedro!!”

“Who?” The guy asks as he tries to get a clearer look at them.

“PEDRO PASCAL! You douche! Look they’re getting ice cream, come on let’s go say hi”

The video focuses on the two of you who were standing in line, in front of the ice cream stand. You are seen chatting with him, rather enthusiastically before bending down to somehow calm yourself down after all that laughter.

Pedro who was listening to you the whole time tried to help you up as you continue to fall down to a kneeling position before threading his arms around your waist in a way to stabilize the woman he was with. They calmed down after a few seconds before it looked like you were beckoning Pedro to share his thoughts as he was then seen explaining with the same enthusiasm you did a while ago.

The one recording got close enough to start a conversation and she did.

“Hi excuse me, sorry for disturbing your time. But I just wanted to say that I am a big fan of you, y/n, and I’m hoping to see you in more projects in the future.” The girl starts as she focuses the camera on you who, in shock, moved behind Pedro while clutching the side of his jacket.

“Oh hi! Thank you for the support and uhm you weren’t disturbing us, and uh- yeah, Thank you again!!” You said somewhat nervously as you shyly giggled while looking at the pair who approached you and then at Pedro, with a somewhat “I don’t know what else to do, help me” look.

Guys the look!!! The motherfreaking look, Y/n gave Pedro AAAA that isn’t a look friends give each other if they’re asking for help but for the sake of this video I’m gonna let you guys judge.

The video resumes as Pedro clears his throat and with a small smile, he begins,” AH yes thank you for the supporting y/n but we really need to go. It was nice meeting you yeah?”

And as if god was with them, as soon as Pedro finished talking, their ice creams were done and he was seen taking both before pulling you by the hand.

“Oh, it was nice meeting you too, and have a happy birthday tomorrow sir!!” The male friend says before he was seen ordering.

Walking away, you were seen smiling towards the camera mouthing a small thank you, before side-hugging Pedro as a sign of thank you.

Ok but that was cute… I cannot think of anything but Pedro understanding the look on y/n’s face as she looked up at him

Vid 2: a very old ig story from one of the producers of Supernatural, September 2012, finishing up se 8 in Vancouver

Music was heard blaring in the background. They were in some sort of resto-bar in Vancouver as they were shooting for Supernatural SE 8. The video camera then flips to show two of the show’s producers with the on-show siblings: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Y/N L/N who was seen wearing only a knitted jumper set and a beanie.

They were asked to say hi one by one before Pedro, who was trying to stay hidden, was seen seated just right beside you.

now hold up, ever since I watched this, it made me curious as to why Pedro was there if he wasn’t part of the cast. It’s cute that they’re seen hanging out and supporting each other’s works but really, you’re gonna fly to Vancouver just to hang out OMG I’m telling you, guys, something is up between the two.

The video then continues to rotate as the producer shows the interior of the place they were at, he then starts talking about the upcoming release of supernatural season 8. But despite the loud music in the background, a short whispered conversation was caught in the recording.

A small voice saying “cold” was the first thing heard followed by a loud “what?”.

But when the video camera rounds the table once again it was then clear that you and Pedro were the ones whispering to each other.

The camera was passed to Jensen who also proceeds to say random stuff to the camera with the occasional screams.

The whispering then continued but this time louder.

“I said, it’s too fucking cold, I told you it was a bad idea to go here straight from the set.” You said that was slightly heard.

Pedro then replied sounding rather smugly “ I know but I also told you to bring your puffer with you cause you get cold easily, now whose fault is that.”

A loud smack was heard in the background that made Jensen look to his right before laughing and continuing whatever he was previously doing.

“I know OK! I just thought it would be warmer here 'cause it is a bar and-…” you said but was soon muffled as the music got deafeningly louder.

As the phone was passed to Jared, he calls and taps you on the shoulder first, before sharing the camera with you. In the last few seconds of the video, you were seen wearing a blue puffer jacket that looked at least 3 sizes bigger than you.

oh….we know who gave her that jacket. And aaaaaaaa y/n complaining because of the coldness is so me because as soon as the temperature drops I’d be running my mouth all the time.

Vid 3: caught by fans in a bar in downtown Manhattan 2012, November

Pt 1

The video started with you walking rather happily, you can actually call it skipping at this point. Shushes were heard in the background when you started sprinting down the path.

Stopping in front of a bar in downtown Manhattan, she brings her hands towards her mouth in an O position before shouting “ OI Pedro!!” and raises both hands up to wave.

The fans taking the video sounded shocked and muttered multiple “Oh my gosh Pedro’s here”, “Pedro oh shit he’s with her again”

In the background, Pedro was seen turning excitedly before jogging towards you and pulling you into a tight hug before placing his hand on your cheeks while telling you something that the video wasn’t able to get.

After a brief chat out in the entrance, Pedro wraps his arm around your shoulders before leading you inside.

hold up I, when I don't see my friends for months straight, never really hug them that long and then maintain eye contact cause we'll be too distracted and excited to catch up but theyyy don't see each other for a week and they react like this, i- I don't wanna say or think of any more excuses. Ok back to it then

Before the video ended, the fans recording shouted your names while you turned around for a quick wave, then proceeded to enter the building.

It seemed like you two were catching up as this was a week after that red-carpet event you were absent from because of an illness that made you stay at home.

Pt 2

That same night a fan in the bar posted on her Facebook a pic of her male friend with y/n and Pedro. The picture was followed by the video below.

“Girl you better record all this, 'cause I wanna rewatch the moment I met one of the best pairs ever in the media industry,” her male friend told her before they were seen walking towards the table you and Pedro were sitting at. The one recording then followed her friend to have a closer look.

“-nd yeah that’s what happened, people do tend to follow you around,” Pedro’s voice was heard before he was even seen on camera.

Straightening themselves up her friend slowly walks to the table and pats you on the shoulder. Pedro gave the one recording a look before nodding towards you who was caught taking off your beanie.

With a wide smile, you looked at them with a “Hi, hello”

The male friend quickly greeted back and asked you how your day was. You responded enthusiastically. The same person was also seen waving to Pedro and he waved back with a small shy smile.

“Y/n, I know this is a little going past the line but I just wanna say that despite being sick in the past week and a half you are motherfucking glowing girl.” The male friend said with a lively tone.

With a laugh you looked towards Pedro who is seen nodding while looking you up and down. Turning back to the fan you laughed and said “Awww thank you!! Not what I expected but that is different than what I usually hear.”

The chatting then continued for another minute of chatting before the male friend asked for a picture to which you eagerly stood up and pulled them for a hug before finding a place for the picture.

A shot was already taken with the fans’ arms wrapped around you to form a hug when you suddenly separated yourself and went back to the table to pull Pedro up.

A loud “Come on Pedro!! Just this once, I don’t wanna do it by myself.” Was heard from you while Pedro was seen standing up rather slowly before pulling you by the neck and walking towards the camera.

You asked the friend to take another picture but with you three in which they nodded enthusiastically as they looked at you.

Fixing yourselves up, the first photo was with you three just smiling and standing stiff. Then the second pose was when you placed your arm over Pedro’s shoulder, who was forced to lean down by the way, and your other hand squished his left cheek. A couple more photos were taken before the fan said a quick thank before they were seen going back to their tables, however, Pedro was stopped by a female fan for a quick picture and a wave.

“Girl, I don’t know how I handled that but I am going to remember that for the rest of my life.”

a/n: hello if you get to read this thank you and sorry that this was a bit longer than usual, but I wanted to try this format so yeah here we have it. alsooo I haven't really decided on when I would post so if you guys can help me decide it would be of great help.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x actress!reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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normal-internet-user · 1 year ago

Note

My first time asking but, when you will have time will all the ask will you be able to do a TMNT 2012 x male reader who is taller and stronger them them? If the male reader is hard to do it can be changed to female reader, i just haven't seen a lot of male reader fanfics

And btw great work, I've been banging your fanfics for like the whole day today. I guess a fan from Romania here <3<3

LITERALLY SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS REQUEST, and of course I can do male reader! No issues there! 😭- Tysm I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! <3

2012 BOYS WITH A MALE S/O WHO'S STRONGER THAN THEM:

....................................

Raph:

We all know Raph loves a partner who's bigger and stronger than him.

He likes when you hold him when you're cuddling.

(Total little spoon energy)

Definitly stares at you when you work out, totally not obvious about it.

Like at all. *She said sarcastically*

If you ever need to like carry him to safety or something?

He is a mess holy crap.

Literally forgets how to function.

He likes training with you.

Mikey:

He's a talker, so he's very vocal about how awesome he thinks you are.

Pick up something heavy?

Mikey's in absolute awe.

Casually lift him out of the way of something?

You may as well be a god.

He definitly asks you to carry him around with zero shame.

He makes your height difference seem much more dramatic than it really is.

i.e grabbing like a stool or something to give you a smooch.

Leo:

Oh he's a fucking disaster holy shit.

If you do even anything that remotely requires your strength, you'd think you proposed or something.

He gets all red and blushy and avoids eye contact.

Also likes to be held during cuddle time.

He's stressed ok? Give my mans his cuddles.

Casually asks for your help with little things like moving that or grabbing this.

If you ever pick him up, he'll quite literally forget how to function.

Any and all knowledge about exsisting just flies out of his head.

Donnie:

He has you help him around the lab moving heavy equiptment, putting things away or grabbing high objects etc.

Even if you're a constant presence in his lab, whenever you move something heavy effortlessly he is a mess-

Please do not tease him about it, he will probably perish.

Like's to lay ontop of your chest with your arms around him when you cuddle.

Makes him feel all safe and warm.

If he refuses to leave his lab just pick him up, wtf is he gonna do about it?

As his boyfriend, you have every right to physically remove him from his work for bedtime.

....................................

Once again I am SO sorry for the delay with requests, writers block hit me like a sack of bricks-

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #donnie x reader #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #mikey x reader #tmnt x male reader #male reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 #normie writes #tmnt x reader headcanons

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tgmsunmontue · 5 months ago

Text

Online & Anonymous 14/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018

2019 – Bradley

Reconnecting with Jas after nearly a year and a half of no contact feels like a fragile glass butterfly in his hands, one he’s scared to hold too firmly in his hands, terrified it will shatter if he moves wrong. He continues sending pictures of his morning cup of coffee, although it’s just with a heart emoji now; no daily apology. Simply an acknowledgement that he thinks of him pretty much as soon as he wakes up. He doesn’t always get one back immediately, but their time zones are very different right now. Jas has admitted that sometimes he takes the photo and saves it to send, so he can pretend they’re sharing, existing at the same time. Bradley admits to wanting to be able to make him coffee every morning. Knows exactly how he takes it.

His leave has been approved for December, and he’s put in a cushion of an additional week either side to allow for missed flights and natural disasters and he’ll fucking go AWOL if he has to. He hasn’t shared his little contingency plan with Jas, but he will if worst comes to worst. He doesn’t let himself think about it too much, or look forward to it. Doesn’t want to build it all up for it to crumble down around him again. And he’s working very hard to ensure he doesn’t sabotage himself. Not this time. His therapist has given him a lot to think about and sometimes he really hates how right they are.

Right now though he’s in Ramstein working with the Airforce, some cooperative training gig and he’s trying to use it as a cultural thing, but he feels like he could just be on a base somewhere, anywhere, back home. For some reason it makes him feel homesick for what he thinks must be the first time in his life. Last Christmas he’d spent it with Ice and his family for the first time since he was a teenager. Their relationship healed enough now for him to realize and regret how many years he’s lost. He guesses the maturity and therapy have probably helped, although he sometimes feels like a little kid again, seeking out attention and approval. One of Ice’s kids has kids themselves, and that is wild to him. Ice can’t talk very well, but considering how expressive his face can be when he chooses it to be he’d had entire silent conversation with Bradley while he’d been staying.

… … …

>>I’m in Germany.

>>Huh. I’m in Japan.

>>Oh. I like Japan.

>>We’ll have to go together sometime.

>>Wait.

>>What are you doing in Germany?

>>What do you mean?

>>I’m deployed here?

>>Uh. I know you’re Navy. I mean. Yeah.

>>You let it slip years ago.

>>Oh. Shit. Did I?

>>I didn’t realize.

>>Yeah.

>>So. Only seems fair to tell you I’m Navy too.

>>Shit. Really? God. What are the chances?

>>Well, I crunched the numbers few years ago, and they’re not that farfetched.

>>Of course you did.

>>And I’m in Germany helping out with a cooperative training exercise. Just a short four month stint and then back home in June.

>>You sure you don’t want more details?

>>Positive. I like the idea of us having some topics of conversation we haven’t covered.

He desperately just wants to blurt it out, has in fact tapped out his name and exactly what he does, only to delete it all. He’ll respect Jas’s wishes, even if he doesn’t like them. Even now, knowing they’re both in the Navy and Bradley could, if he wasn’t respecting Jas’s personal boundaries, call Ice and ask him to pull every active-duty man with the initials JAS and born in 1986. Surely there aren’t that many.

>>Talking has never been something we’ve struggled with.

>>Have you seen the new How to Train your Dragon movie?

>>Weirdly, I have. Why?

>>Well, I’ve only been able to watch it in German. I think I understand what is happening, but can you run me through what exactly they were looking for? I didn’t get why it was so important.

He wants to ask why Jas has seen a movie for kids, but he doesn’t, instead waits for Jas to fill in all the bits of plot Bradley missed due to watching the film in the nearby town with a German dub rather than watching it on base.

… … …

“Bradshaw. The CO would like to see you.”

He nods his head to acknowledge the words and heads off immediately. He doesn’t know why he’s being summoned but he’s not going to start disobeying orders or summons. He knocks on the door and waits to be called in.

“Lieutenant. You’ve been called in for a special detachment. You leave for North Island at seventeen-hundred.”

“Today sir?”

“Yes. A matter of urgency it seems. A shame, you’re a damned good instructor and flier. I’ll be sure to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

He’s handed the papers, a mere formality now, he’ll have electronic ones sitting in his HR account. He’s got a few hours to pack, say some goodbyes. North Island. Of all places. Okay. He’s heading back stateside.

… … …

He manages to get some sleep on the flight, then rest and report in. North Island is home and it also isn’t. He always feels mixed up emotionally when he’s here, too close to his parents and all his memories with Maverick growing up. He goes and collects the Bronco from storage, unsurprised to find a note telling him it’s been serviced and run, and he swings by to visit Ice, who doesn’t seem surprised to see him at all. He looks tired though, wearing a thick jacket and scarf despite the warm spring day. Bradley knows better to mention anything, Sarah having warned him. He stays for lunch, plays with the grandkids and then, because Ice is an angel amongst men, heads to the Hard Deck where he’s just been told his best friend probably is. The fact that she’s also been called to whatever this mission is fills him with pride, she’s a damned fine aviator, definitely better than him in some respects; and definitely able to make the most of having a back seater.

Of course she’s pissed off with him for not telling him that he was going to be here, and he can’t exactly tell her he only knows because the COMPACFLT dropped him a message. He does mutter about being in a different country less than twenty-four hours ago but she just pulls a face at him and he knows she doesn’t accept it as a reason or an excuse. It hurts a little to see Seresin again. To think about the potential they had. He looks good though. Happy and confident, the little smirk always there just on the corner of his lips. He always wants to kiss it off, but it's not his place. Has never been his place. He plays it off, tries to anyway, and his mouth still takes off without him, brain distracted by looking and he really has to practice better self-control.

“Hangman. You look… good.”

There’s a flash of annoyance and Bradley winces. He’s glad he went with something as mundane as good, except him saying that has always been a lead into hooking up. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this. Not with anyone, but especially not with Seresin. They aren’t anything to each other, never were, never will be. He’ll apologize as soon as he can for the slip up.

“I am good Rooster. I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”

He rolls his eyes, but he deserves the sharp look, the slight meaness, although he also can’t ignore it, because Seresin is still an arrogant shit, for all his beautiful flying. Natasha is muttering under her breath, talking about not caring about dick sizes, and he has to stop himself from laughing as she blatantly and obviously changes the subject, the others grabbing the lifeline like drowning men. He focuses back in on the conversation just in time to hear Seresin again.

“And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

He snorts.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

Fuck. He hadn’t meant that. Not like that. God. Another thing to apologize for. He’s opening a fucking tab.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… That never comes.”

He knows it’s a jibe about his fucking inability to commit to his relationship, and he’d like to prove him wrong by telling him that he’s very firmly back with his guy, but it feels empty when he flirted with him not even five minutes ago. What the hell is it with Seresin that always brings out the worst in him. He’s going to have to apologize but he’s going to hate every fucking second of it.

“I love this song!”

Right.

He’ll apologize as soon as he no longer wants to punch him.

… … …

Fortunately Natasha’s presence, the piano playing and singing force him to unwind and it shifts his mood considerably, exactly what his therapist has told him to do. Not that a piano is frequently available, but he’s working on it. He sees Seresin head out and he follows him quickly, ignores Natasha’s hissed warning to not get into a fight.

“Hey! Seresin! Wait up!”

“What do you want Rooster?”

He sucks in a big breath. He can do this.

“I just wanted to apologize. For flirting. I shouldn’t have done that. For several reasons, but it was shitty of me and I’ll work on it not happening again.”

Seresin looks at him, expression tense and he’s worrying a toothpick which Bradley does his best to ignore.

“Anything else you want to apologize for Bradshaw?”

Bradley pauses, thinks back to what he said and pulls a face.

“Fuck. Yeah. You won’t lead anyone into an early grave either. I didn’t mean that. It was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“Anything else?”

Bradley blinks.

“Uh. No… not that I can think of? Why?”

The look Seresin is giving him is calculating, like he’s trying to figure something out; then Seresin is reaching out and tugging on his shirt.

“Thought you might like to apologize for crimes against fashion. This is one godawful shirt you’re wearing…”

“I like this shirt.”

“Of course you do. Hmm.”

“Are you going to apologize to me?”

“For what?”

“For calling me slow?”

“Nothing wrong with slow Rooster…”

The look on his face, the way he juts out his hip and licks his lips around the fucking toothpick… Bradley feels the flush hit his cheeks, can tell his neck and chest are also going warm and he steps back. He can’t and won’t engage with this. With him.

“Was good seeing you Seresin. Have a good night.”

… … …

He gets back inside the Hard Deck and he spies Natasha talking with Bob, knows she’s starting the process of getting to know her new back seater, which is usually to beat them soundly in whatever macho game they think they’re better at, and then to show them that she can and will fly, and fly well. Then she usually forces them into a self-care night of face masks and nails, for which Bradley is usually invited along to if he’s around, although he knows Coyote has been seconded into the roll a couple of times.

“You look… whole,” Natasha says, and she reaches for his hand, inspects his knuckles and Bradley huffs in annoyance, pulling his hand back when he realizes what she’s doing.

“I didn’t punch him.”

“No. You just stalked out of here looking like you wanted to.”

“I actually went and apologized to him.”

Both her and Bob blink.

“Seriously?”

“What can I say, I’m the bigger man, admitting when I’m wrong and apologizing.”

“I still feel like I should go outside and check for a body…”

“It’s fine. I’m going to try and be nice.”

“Yeah. Okay. Good luck with that.”

“What she said,” Bob says.

… … …

The thing is he does try, but he’s also completely thrown by the fact that Maverick is there and is apparently the one teaching them. His anger is bubbling fresh, like he never took it off the boil and he’s angry again with Ice for not fucking warning him. Maverick doesn’t look at all surprised to see him and that makes him feel even angrier. He desperately needs to either run, punch some pillows or angrily play out his feelings on a piano until he calms down. None of which he can do while he watches his godfather stand at the front of a makeshift classroom and tell them all that the mission success will come down to the pilot in the box.

… … …

“So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Jesus Christ, one apology and the man is going to ask about his whole life history. Now is not the fucking time, not to mention the line is open and everyone can hear them. He scans the skies and screens for any sign of Maverick.

“Would it matter if I did?”

“What’s the story with you and Maverick?” Speak of the fucking devil… “It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

“That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?”

“Been here the whole time.”

“Holy shit,” Seresin breathes and Bradley pulls a face, because that tone is also far too similar to what he sounds like in bed and he can not be thinking about that right now.

He get’s shot down for a second time, knows he’s toeing the line of being an idiot, doesn’t need Natasha railing at him, or the four-hundred push-ups he insists on doing which leave his arms feeling like jelly and Hondo looking at him like he pities him. He goes back to his accommodation on base and stares at the key to his family home, wonders if he should do anything about it, ignores Natasha’s messages and falls into a fitful sleep without even changing out of his clothes.

… … …

He wakes later, and his first instinct is to make coffee, except it’s late and he needs to get used to the time difference. So he makes himself a hot cocoa from the supplies, although the fat he has to chip away at the solid mass tells him it likely won’t be worth the effort. Still, it gives him something to do. He snaps a picture and sends it, just adds a jet lag is real over it and sends it. Jas has been unnaturally quiet the last couple of days and Bradley desperately wants to just pick up his phone and call him. Except he doesn’t have his number and he won’t ask for it.

Calling was never an option in the beginning, not with the lack of service out on carriers, and the fact that exchanging numbers also meant exchanging names. Bradley has never not answered the phone with his whole name, so he’d never offered. He’s got so many regrets on so many fronts he feels like a twenty-sided dice.

>>Everything okay?

>>You’ve been kind of quiet these last couple of days.

>>You ever bump into someone and think that it was maybe me you were talking to?

>>Um. Actually yeah.

>>Once. Years ago.

>>But there just ended up being all these little facts that didn’t line up so I figured it wasn’t you.

>>Was he hot?

>>He was alright. Easy enough on the eyes.

>>Nothing happened. I was his instructor at the time.

>>You and your moral compass.

>>I’m rolling my eyes at you.

>>I’m not a saint.

>>Never accused you of that. Not sleeping with someone because you’re in a position of power. That’s pretty decent of you.

>>Got to try being a decent human right?

>>I guess.

>>Sometimes I fuck up but got to keep on trying.

>>Yeah. I guess you do.

… … …

Internally he’s a mess. The fact that the mission seems impossible, has been called a suicide mission, he’s having to see Maverick everyday, and Seresin keeps looking at him like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Like how big the body bag needs to be maybe. Now he’s being told he isn’t flying fast enough, he’s going to get shot down and he’s going to be responsible for the death of his friends. Like any of them won’t suffer the exact same fate.

“It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.”

“Exactly!”

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

“You really don’t get it. On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back. No offense intended.”

“Yet somehow you always manage,” Bob murmurs and normally Bradley would smile at the comeback, but he can’t right now. His frustration and anger are carefully balanced and he doesn’t want either of them to tip over.

“Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.”

“Lieutenant.”

“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot’s ever seen. Not even him. That’s no time to be thinking about the past.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rooster.”

“I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man.”

“That’s enough.”

“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man…”

“Lieutenant, that’s enough!”

“That’s enough.“

“You son of a bitch!”

“Hey, come on!”

“I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey, hey.”

“That’s enough.”

… … …

>>I have had an awful fucking day.

>>Tell me something to cheer me up?

He doesn’t get an answer.

… … …

He still doesn’t have an answer the next morning and he sends off his usual morning picture of his coffee, feels his entre body unclench when he gets a picture in response. There still isn’t any messages but it’s not complete radio silence. There is a message from his Captain, telling him to report to the Hard Deck in civvies appropriate for the beach and he lets out a long sigh. Sends a screen shot to Ice with a what the fuck is he thinking now? To which he gets back a line of laughing-crying emojis and your guess is as good as mine.

Well. He has no idea where the hell Maverick dreamed up dog-fight football, but at least they’re not all getting drunk together. That would have been a recipe for several disasters. It’s not that warm, but once they’re all running around it heats them up enough and it feels good to simply run around and play, forget, even for a little while, that one or more of them might be dead in a couple of weeks.

… … …

As if they needed reminders about just how dangerous their jobs are without the added aspects of the mission in front of them they have the day from hell and Bradley feels responsible. Thinking his verbal sparring with Hangman somehow made it a bad day he somehow jinxed them all. Having Coyote come so close to burning in because of g-Loc, and then Natasha… his best friend. Listening to Maverick yell eject at them over and over is going to be added nightmare fodder he’s sure will enter rotation, something he can look forward to. He sits in the quiet of the room, turning when he hears footsteps.

Maverick.

And no-one else around to act as a buffer.

Well shit.

He’s tired and already emotionally raw, doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

“They’ll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They’re gonna be okay.”

“That’s good. I’ve never lost a wing man.”

“You’re lucky. Fly long enough, it’ll happen. There will be others.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bradley bites out. “No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.”

He feels detached from what he’s saying, but the anger is all still there, and he feels justified in that at least, although he’s also lying. As much as he might be angry, he’d still grieve Maverick if he died. Of course Maverick tries to be calm and rational and instead of calming him down it has the opposite effect, and he’s snapping out words again, and Maverick is snapping back and god, it’s a wonder Ice didn’t bang their heads together earlier.

“Maverick,” Warlock says, stopping them from screaming more hurtful things in each other’s faces.

Then he learns that Ice has died and of course bad things come in threes.

He leaves Maverick with Warlock and heads off into the dark for his base housing.

… … …

>>You know how I told you about my uncle?

>>The one with cancer?

>>Yeah?

>>He died. His funeral will be in a couple of days and I’m going to have to somehow not cry in front of everyone.

>>Would you give me your mobile number?

>>Why?

>>Because I’d really like to hear your voice. Talk to you properly.

>>I wouldn’t call until you gave me the go ahead.

>>I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.

>>I feel very alone.

>>I thought the other day was bad, but today has been so much worse.

He wanders around aimlessly, wonders if maybe he should bite the bullet and either go to the rec room and play the piano there, or see if the piano at his closed-up parent’s house is even playable. He’s half-dressed for bed, mind so far away he doesn’t register the knocking until it’s louder and more insistent and he heads to the door, opening it and half-expecting to find Maverick there.

“Hangman?”

“Rooster.”

“Uh. What are doing here?”

The look on Seresin’s face tells him he’s not exactly sure either, and the fact that he’s not certain is something he’s even more annoyed about.

“I just… I know your dad flew with Admiral Kazansky. I... I thought that maybe you might know him more than just as the COMPACFLT and be... I thought you might want company.”

“I...” Bradley starts, because he really does want the company right now, Natasha is in hospital, Coyote is with her because sometimes things like near-misses force you to reevaluate. Not that she can come, but he wouldn’t call her anyway, doesn’t want to rain on her happiness. Not when there is no guarantee of any future right now, the bird strike and g-Loc incidents both really driving home how dangerous their jobs are.

“Not anything else, by the way… just company.”

“No. I... Yeah. Company would be good. Thanks.”

“Also I figured I should take a leaf out of your book and apologize. I’m sorry. About bringing up your dad. That was a dick move.”

Bradley blinks.

“Um. Okay.”

“Right. Sleeping right? You want me to cuddle you?”

“Actually yeah, since you offered,” Bradley replies, giving Seresin a disparaging look but then takes in the fact that he’s dressed in sweats and a worn t-shirt, like he maybe come over after he’d already gotten ready for bed.

“Come on then, finish getting ready. Always waiting for you to catch up Bradshaw…”

“Yeah yeah, give me a minute.”

He shuffles around, puts on a t-shirt in deference to the fact that Seresin seems seriously intent on hopping into bed with him, and not for sex. He brushes his teeth and washes his face, unable to bring himself to do any more. His mind is thinking about Sarah and the kids and grandkids. Funerals, oh which he feels like he’s been to too many. He folds himself into the bed, his head and body already feel heavy and weighed down and he cannot believe he’s watching Seresin of all people turn off the lights and then slide into bed beside him, his arm settling over his waist like a drag sail.

“Go to sleep Bradshaw, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

… … …

Despite everything he has one of the best nights’ sleep he’s had in a long time, and he can’t put it down to the sheer emotional exhaustion of the last couple of days. He woke up several times during the night, not used to having someone else in the bed, but each time Seresin had been there, arm settled around Bradley like he was holding him together. He’s not there now though, but Bradley can hear someone in the kitchen and it can’t be anyone else but Seresin. He stands and stretches, feels his back and neck click and reaches for his phone, feels a little swoop of happiness when he sees he has a message.

>>I don’t want you to be alone right now either.

He grins and quickly types out a response as he heads to the kitchen.

“Hey, morning.”

“Morning. How are you feeling?”

“Uh. Better. Thanks,” Bradley offers, because he’s a little unsettled by this softer and more accommodating version of Seresin.

“Here,” Seresin says, and he slides a mug of coffee across to him. It’s not his usual mug, but that’s okay. The mug isn’t the important part, and he snaps a quick picture.

“What are you doing?”

“Um. Just taking a photo of my coffee,” Bradley states, looking up as Seresin makes a slight choking sound. “Thanks by the way, for the coffee and for staying last night. I really needed the company.”

“Yeah. Uh. Anytime. I’ve got to go. Glad you’re feeling better Bradshaw.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks… see you later…” Bradley says, voice trailing off as Hangman flees like he’s on fire.

Weird.

He takes a sip of his coffee and blinks in surprise.

It’s perfect.

… … …

He drags himself through his morning routine and heads to Ice’s house, needs to see Sarah and the others, the only family he has. Or at least that he’s currently talking to in civil tones. He lets himself get hugged as he hugs them all in return, they’re all talking in soft mumbles with empty platitudes he knows don’t ease the grief. But being with others who are also grieving helps. He’s allowed to feel sad and miss him when he’s surrounded by people who feel exactly the same way.

Sarah is poised and calm, her red eyes the only thing belying the fact that she’s been crying plenty. He’s sitting down talking to Samantha, Ice’s eldest daughter, when Sarah finds him and presses an envelope into his hands.

“He wanted me to give this to you as quickly as possible after his passing. I think he was adding it to it just yesterday…”

His throat goes tight and he runs his fingers along the crisp edge of the envelope, swallows and then gives up, lets the tears fall and hugs her back tightly as she presses a kiss to the top of his head, feels Samantha hug him from the side. He guesses he has some reading to do.

… … …

Dear Bradley,

If you are reading this it’s because I’m dead. Now, as outcomes go, this isn’t what either of us wanted, I’m sure. I’m glad I only had one rule with you as a teenager, and that you listened to me. This is the natural progression of things, children having to bury their parents. I am sorry that you have had to do this so often though, your life has not often been fair to you. There is one silver lining of being a dead man, and that’s getting a dying wish. Your mother had a dying wish you see, and I didn’t agree with what she wanted, but I had to respect it. It was her dying wish after all. And now this is mine, so if I meet her in the afterlife, then I know she’s not going to be able to hold it over me.

I want you to know that she never wanted you to fly.

She asked Maverick to pull your papers.

I tried to convince both of them that it was a terrible idea. But your mother became very difficult to argue with, being dead and all, and well, Maverick is one of the most stubborn and pig-headed men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m glad I’ve been able to count him as being a friend, because having him as an enemy would be ten times worse (and it was already pretty trying some days, as you can imagine). Anyway, I could already envision what would happen, you get your own stubborn and pig-headedness honestly at least, and it was then polished by being raised by Maverick after your mom passed.

Now, I am not asking you to forgive Maverick. However I am asking you to try. He loves you and cares for you, but what he is most terrified about is failing both of your parents. He thinks they’d be perfect parents, so holds himself up to that ideal. He thinks he needs to be perfect. Being a parent myself I know that’s impossible, I’ve just tried my best to make decisions based from a place of love and support. Maverick has always tried to make his decisions based on what he thinks your parents would want for you. Your mom didn’t want you to fly and yet here you are. And Maverick has to see that and know he failed her. And he failed you. And he will always believe he failed your father.

I never had to second guess my parenting decisions, even if I would later make a different decision with hindsight. I knew I made the best decision I could at the time with the information I had, making it from a place of love, then I couldn’t really regret it. Maverick second guesses everything when it comes to you. For all his don’t think, just do bullshit, he overthinks everything when it comes to you.

One of your parents gave you anything and everything you wanted, because he only saw you for a few months of your entire life. In between all the training and deployments, it just wasn’t enough. He loved you, do not ever doubt that, and he’d be so proud of the man you are today. I believe he would have supported you going to USNA with his whole heart. He’d be proud of you being a naval aviator. He would love that you were a pilot.

Your mother had to become both parents and then manage your early teen years and at the same time she wanted to protect you from everything bad in the world. She couldn’t protect you from losing your father, or then losing her, and I am sure she thought she was protecting you by asking Maverick to pull your USNA papers. However neither of your parents knew you as well as Maverick knew you, and yet he tasked himself with an impossible task.

So you have had a parent who only knew you really as a baby, another as a child, then another as a young man and now you’re an adult with a life and career of his own. You might have a better chance of getting Maverick into therapy than I ever did, simply by asking him. I am proud that you go. That you listened and took my advice. It’s always nice to be right. It’s been a pleasure watching you grow into the man you are today, and I know you will continue to grow.

Having you back in my life has been one of my joys. Getting to know you again, share stories with you. I’ve written a lot more down for you, and there’s a box with your name on it. Lots of photos because I’m old and we had film cameras. Make all the old jokes you want, I’m dead and I don’t care. Growing old is a luxury for some, and I am glad I got as far as I did. Anyway, I think Samantha might be digitizing the photos. Ask her. Please stay in touch with them all. You are a part of our family, even if it didn’t feel that way for you for some years. You are always welcome, never forget that. I want you to be in each other’s lives again. Maverick’s as well. You need him even if you think you don’t. And he needs you too. You’re both going to get invitations to Kazansky family gatherings, and it’s going to be awkward if you’re not talking to each other. At least give it a try. That’s all I’m asking.

Never forget how loved you are Bradley.

By all of your parents.

Ice

Saw you flying today. Made me so proud. Also made me wish I could have flown with you. Watching you fly is like watching the best of myself and Maverick. He is very unhappy with me about the mission. Doesn’t want to have to make the choice. He views it as lose-lose all round, which might be true. I hope it isn’t, for both your sakes. If I have any say in it you’ll all return safely home. I’m tired, so I’m going to go to bed now. Love you kid.

… … …

They’ve been given the day off, which seems a little ridiculous considering how close the mission is. He’s immeasurably glad though, he feels shaky and emotionally raw, and he still has to get through the funeral and somehow process the whole shifting worldview that his mom made Maverick promise. That Maverick wouldn’t just tell him that confuses him, what would he do? Hate his mom for wanting to keep him safe? He just doesn’t get it. He opens his phone, not really having had a chance to look at it since the morning after he’d sent his coffee picture. Jas hadn’t replied by the time he left to go to Ice’s house, but when he opens his phone now he can see he has a couple of new notifications. The coffee cup in reply looks familiar and he realizes it’s his coffee cup. The one he usually uses except this morning… What the hell?

He opens up Grindr and clicks on the new message, is pretty sure he knows what to expect when it displays and there it is.

>>I’m in the Dagger Squad.

Just like that his world tilts on its axis again and he stares at the five words. Closes it and then reopens the app. Reads the words again. Actually turns off his phone and forces it to re-start. The words stay the same.

JAS.

Born in 1986.

Texan.

God he’s an idiot.

Not just in the navy, he’s a Naval aviator.

A photo of his own coffee cup sent back to him from this morning.

He’s laughing at his own stupidity and he’s already cried so much today but he feels like he might just burst into tears again, his emotions all too exposed and he needs to find out where Jas-Jake-Seresin, (what the hell does he call him now?), lives. He rings Natasha, knows she’s still with Coyote. Coyote will know where Jake, (Jake feels right? Maybe?), lives. Because it’s not on base. Of course Coyote won’t give him the address and Bradley feels like screaming. Tells him to ask Jake, then to text it through to him when he gives it to him. He’s that certain Jake will give it to him. He could just ask himself, but he also doesn’t want to give Jake an opportunity to ignore him. Not that he thinks he will.

Last night suddenly makes a lot more sense, now that he thinks about it. No one else would have known about Ice passing, and yet Jake turned up, because he’d figured it out. God. When did he figure it out? He’s trying to reconcile Jas and Jake Seresin in his head. The brash confident and arrogant naval aviator he knows and has had plenty of sex with, and Jas, the open, vulnerable and sweetly-sassy man that he’s… also had plenty of sex with. Well. At least he knows they can handle the long-distance aspect of any relationship. God he really wants to see him now.

The address comes through and he taps it into his phone, following the directions as he drives, wishes it was closer. He doesn’t bother telling Jake he’s on his way, he already knows because Coyote has given Bradley his address. With permission. He pulls up and it’s a newly built block of condos, and he has to look for a carpark for too long before he finds one. He lets himself feel annoyed at the poor planning, grateful that it pushes the grief and shocked-joy just to the side for a moment, no matter how brief. It allows him to gather his bearings as he walks up the pavement and knocks on the door. While he waits for an answer, he wonders if he should send a message. Why the hell not.

>>Answer the door Jas.

>>Give me one good reason.

>>I love you.

>>Now please answer the door.

“Hi.”

He stands there and just… looks. Jake’s wearing exactly the same clothes as when he left Bradley’s place earlier today, and he looks soft. A little scared and Bradley realizes that he’s maybe worried that Bradley might be disappointed somehow. He reaches out, slow enough that Jake can stop him, or step away; cups his cheek in his hand, runs a thumb over the apple of his cheek. Wants to enfold him in a hug and be hugged in return.

“Thank you.”

“Uh. You’re welcome?”

“You want to know what I’m thanking you for?”

“Sure.”

“My second chance. Always planned on thanking you in person.”

“Um. Yeah.”

Bradley bites his lip, won’t mention aloud the groveling and body worship that Jas had mentioned, is sure that Jake might not yet be in a place to hear him say words out loud. Written word is something completely different. He wants to kiss him, definitely wants to carry out the body worship, but he feels like they’re all the way at the beginning, needing to feel each other out a little bit, emotionally that is.

“Can I hug you?”

“Yeah, of course. Come in and close the door.”

Of all the hugs he’s had today this one feels the best, firm, grounding and warm. Both of Jake’s arms around him, head resting against Bradley’s shoulder while his nose and mouth press against the side of his head. He presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“When did you figure it out?” Bradley asks.

“When did I suspect, or when did I know? Because there’s kind of different stages I went through…”

“Yeah? Want to share? Because I… needed you to point it out apparently.”

“Always a little slow Bradshaw…”

“Oh my god I’m never going to live this down am I?”

“Nope. Probably not.”

“Okay. I’m okay with that. Come on. Blow me away with your superior intellect…”

“You want to have this conversation while we hug in my entryway?”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“Oh. I have a sofa? Or a, uh, bed?”

“How about we start on the sofa. Can we both fit?”

“Worth a try…”

He makes himself comfortable in the corner and then holds out his arms, silently inviting Jake to curl up in them, to settle himself in the v of his legs. He desperately wants to be holding him again and hopes he equally wants to be held. Fortunately Jake seems to, relaxes against him and Bradley feels a sense of contentedness well up inside him. They’re both facing the same direction and part of him is glad; feels like it might be a little too overwhelming to have this coming conversation face-to-face. It’s like a compromise between being online versus facing each other.

“So… what was your first clue?”

“Uh, your shirt at the Hard Deck. Payback made a comment about how it wouldn’t be possible to miss seeing you arrive and it pinged something in my mind, about when we were meant to met up. You said I wouldn’t miss you…”

“Ugh. You mean the time I stood you up to sleep with… you. I’m still very sorry about that by the way.”

“Well, I’ve sort of made my peace with it. I mean, I can stop being jealous about the other guy at least…”

Bradley huffs in amusement, tightens his arms around him a little.

“Oh… When you asked whether I was going to apologize about fashion crimes. That was you sounding me out.”

“Trying at least. You blanked me so I figured it was just a coincidence.”

“Okay… then what?”

“Um. I saw a photo of your dad. Nicholas Bradshaw.”

“Nick.”

“And Bradley Bradshaw. NickNick. Stupid double-barreled names. Then I remembered your first username, and you hating the name Pete… And how you really don’t like Maverick. Lots of coincidences that just suddenly were too many to just ignore and they made sense.”

“Yeah…” Bradley breathes, smiling against Jake’s hair. He likes that Jake has been paying such close attention, would never have thought it of Seresin or Hangman, but it’s definitely Jake through and through.

“So… Uh. I suspected and then seeing that photo kind of confirmed it. Your moustache and how you said you look like him. Your dad I mean. You do look a lot like him. Anyway, I thought you knew who I was, and you were making fun of me.”

“What? Never...”

Jake twists to give him a look, eyebrow raised in disbelief and Bradley shakes his head.

“Not about this,” Bradley stresses.

“So, I suspected, and then I thought you knew and hadn't told me and I got so angry...”

“You picked a fight,” Bradley says with dawning realization, because he’s fucking been there and done the same thing, like picking at a wound.

“I wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry.”

“I swear I had no idea.”

“Oh yeah, I know that now. Last night when I turned up... I almost asked you. Last night was when I started to realize that you really had no idea.”

“Gorgeous and smart…” Bradley says, and he’s never seen Jake blush before, but he’s doing it now, his face going pink from the corner of Bradley’s eye. “And then my coffee cup picture from this morning... Shit. That’s when you really realized I was truly fucking clueless.”

“Yeah. And I needed to figure out a way of telling you but I had no idea how…”

“Well, you did a good job telling me. You made my coffee perfectly and I still didn’t put it all together.”

“Still took you long enough to get here though.”

“Oh, I didn’t check the messages until about an hour ago. I messaged Coyote pretty much immediately. Did you think it took me that long to figure it out after you told me you were in the Dagger Squad?”

“Well, it has been about four hours.”

“No! I’ve been at Ice’s all morning. Spending time with the family.”

Jake makes a choking sound.

“You’re actually… family?”

“Yeah,” Bradley says with a quiet sigh. “After my mom died and when Mav was deployed I lived with Ice and his family. When I left Mav I pretty much left Ice too. I made up with him a few years ago. Here. Read this…”

He shifts awkwardly and pulls the letter out of his pocket, pulling Jake back into his arms and handing it to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I have literally no secrets from you.”

He reads it again over Jake’s shoulder, let’s himself cry again and tries to not feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s holding Jake and crying. He’s allowed to feel emotions. He’s not an automaton.

“Jesus Bradley…”

It’s the first time Jake has said his name and he lets out another little hiccupping cry, but it has happiness behind it this time, not that Jake can tell and he lets out a little laugh of just how ridiculous the whole situation is.

“Yeah. Ever had emotional whiplash? I think that’s what I’m experiencing today. It’s pretty fucking rough.”

“Stay here tonight. Hell. Did you sleep okay last night? You said you didn’t want to be alone…”

“Last night was great. Exactly what I needed thank you. And yeah, I’ll stay here. Might need to borrow some clothes.”

“Or we can just… go to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ni-, Ro, Bradley… I do not want to waste any more time, especially considering how much time we might not have.”

Fuck. Now there’s a depressing thought. Although it also seems like Jake is having the same internal battle about what to call him as he’s been having.

“What’s your middle name?”

“What?”

“I’ve been calling you Jas in my head for so long, when I get angry with you I’m going to need to full name you…”

“Jacob Andrew Seresin.”

“Bradley Peter Bradshaw. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jake says, but he’s turning, shifting to face him and Bradley smiles, knows he probably looks messy with fresh tear tracks, but he’s smiling at him and Jake is smiling back.

“We were so close so many times weren’t we…”

“Yep. Think it had some silver linings though.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Bradley asks, because he’s curious.

“Don’t want to think about some of them right now. Want to take you to bed.”

“Yeah. Lead the way…”

… … … Every touch is reverent, and he hasn’t slept with anyone in a long while, not since he last slept with Jake in fact, which has him realizing that he hasn’t done anything sexual with anyone but Jake for… nearly three years. Huh. He’ll share that little tidbit of information later, when he’s not sliding his hands under Jake’s t-shirt and working it up off his body. Jake’s working Bradley’s clothes off, and he doesn’t usually feel the need to check in, not when it’s the middle of the day, both completely sober, but he still needs to, the emotions of everything making it a necessity.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's okay. This isn’t our first fucking time…”

Bradley grins, lets himself press his body against Jake’s, letting them both lower their bodies into Jake’s bed. He’ll pay more attention to Jake’s room and bed when he no longer wants to give absolutely every bit of his attention to the man under his hands and mouth.

“Sorry if I want to cater to my body worshipping kink…”

“Selfish,” Jake says, his voice breathy and Bradley bites at his collarbone lightly.

“Yeah. Very selfish. You should totally kick me to the curb.”

“Mmm. See if you can convince me otherwise…”

He feels a happy and excited swoop of pleasure that Jake seems playful, happy in himself to have Bradley in his bed, to stay in his bed for more than just sex.

“I love you,” Bradley murmurs, and he kisses a trail down Jake's neck, then back up. Lets his fingers touch everywhere he can reach, captures Jake’s mouth in a kiss as he grinds his hips down, feels Jake’s mouth gasp open and he licks into it. They’ve had sex with each other a lot, but it’s never quite felt this heavy. Like every touch, every shift of their bodies against each other, carries with it a little bit extra weight, extra meaning.

“I love you.”

There are definite benefits to already being familiar with Jake’s body, knowing how he responds, what he likes. It’s been long enough since they last slept together than it’s all novel and new, while also having the deep-rooted feeling of familiarity and sense of homecoming. He wants to worship every inch of him, Jake seems more than willing to let him. The fact he can pepper his actions with I love you is exhilarating, being able to both show Jake and tell him in equal measure.

He knows he can make Jake come twice, wants to take him apart and hold him together, give him absolutely everything. God, all the things he’s fantasized about are now potential things they can explore together and he grins into the jut of Jake’s hips, sucks little kisses as he teases along the band of his underwear.

“Off off, get them off…”

“It’s been months, or years, depending on how you count. What’s a few more minutes? You know I like the anticipation and building up.”

“Fuck off, you can edge me another time. I know you want to. Right now I want you to make me come.”

“Demanding.”

“Damn right.”

He pulls Jake’s underwear down and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth as he continues to work the underwear down his thighs. It’s a little uncoordinated, Jake trying to help by thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting the back of Bradley’s throat so suddenly he gags, unprepared, digs his fingers into his hip to stop him from doing it again as he pulls the underwear off and throws it elsewhere. He feels Jake’s fingers running through his hair, deliberately ignores the subtle direction to go faster, slows down and grins when he hears Jake groan and mumble asshole under his breath. Jake groans again, his whole body tensing then relaxing under him and Bradley lets himself finally speed up.

He shifts, kneels between Jake’s spread legs so he can get an unobstructed view up his torso, can watch his face as Bradley gets his hands and mouth all over him. His fingers encircle Jake’s cock and he works fast, mouth and tongue licking over his balls before sucking the head back into his mouth. Jake is watching him, mouth open, chest shuddering with broken breaths and Bradley feels a swell of sudden and immense gratitude that he gets to have this. That Jake is allowing him to have it.

“I love you,” he says, his eyes not leaving Jake’s as he opens his mouth and sucks Jake down again, lets Jake’s hips thrust up, ready for it this time and shivers at how gorgeous Jake sounds saying his name. He works his hand faster, presses a knuckle against his perinium, licks and sucks his balls and it’s a tight fit but Jake just stretches his legs wider to give him more space to work. He sees the muscles in Jake’s stomach clench, loves that he knows that that’s one of Jake’s tells, that he’s close to coming. Then he is, shooting up over Bradley’s fist, hitting his chest and stomach.

“I love you,” Bradley says again, it becomes like a prayer as he runs his hands over his calves and thighs, presses kisses up his inner thigh and his balls again. His eyes haven’t left Jake’s. He licks up Jake’s stomach, cleaning up Jake’s come as he goes, smirks at the little broken sound Jake makes. Wonders if he should have said something about the lack of condom this time, but hopes that Jake simply trusts him. Three fucking years.

“God I love you…” Bradley whisper, wants, needs, Jake to know the truth of him. Jake kisses him, tongue seeking out every groove between his teeth, moaning against him and he realizes he’s maybe getting off on the taste of himself in Bradley’s mouth. God they’re going to be able to explore and try so much more now that they have the trust that exists between them. Something he knew he wanted, and to have it, he feels so damn lucky.

Both of Jake’s hands are in his hair, he’s being kissed so thoroughly, Jake’s grinding his hips up against him where he’s partially holding himself above him. Then one of Jake’s hands is on his ass, gripping and pulling and oh. He grinds down, presses his erection against Jake and grins into his mouth.

“Why are you still wearing underwear?” Jake complains.

“Mmm… was too busy getting reacquainted with your body.”

He loves the torn expression on Jake’s face, clearly wants to argue some point, but also can’t think of anything that he can argue about. Instead he digs his fingers into Bradley’s ass cheek and rolls his hips and Bradley moans, much closer than he thought he was. He wants to drag this out, continue re-learning every inch of Jake’s body with all his years of knowledge he’s acquired.

“Come on, want to get my mouth on you… take you fucking underwear off.”

Oh. This isn’t quite going the way he had planned in his head, but he stands and quickly strips off the garment which Jake has been scowling at. He’s more than okay doing what Jake wants as well. He follows Jake’s annoyed muttering directions until he’s straddling his chest, head of his cock a mere inch above Jake’s mouth. It’s a fucking gorgeous sight and his mouth is dry as he watches Jake, eyes dark, and then the tight warm heat of Jake’s mouth takes him in and he groans, his hips twitching reflexively. Then Jake’s hands are on his hips, encouraging him and his eyes fall shut as he lets himself start rolling his hips, the suction around his cock tight and warm. He opens his eyes to look at Jake, to give himself a visual to what he’s feeling and experiencing and –

“Oh god… Jake. Fuck.”

He pulls out sharply, not able to give any warning before he’s coming. Not that coming all over Jake’s face and neck is any better than coming in his mouth, but he’s not going to assume. His breath is coming in panting gasps, his body shaking and he puts a hand down to hold himself up, stares and Jake’s eyes carefully open and Bradley shifts down, needs to be kissing him again. He cleans up his own come this time, peppers his licks with kisses and murmured I love yous against the shell of Jake’s ear. It’s not what he had planned maybe, but it’s no less perfect. They’re going to need a shower, and he can’t wait to introduce that new level of intimacy into their relationship. He settles beside him, pulls up the sheet and reaches out to place a hand on his waist, fingers brushing softly.

“So… It’s nice to finally meet you. Properly I mean…” Bradley says, eyes searching Jake’s face and he’s smiling and feeling fond and content. Soft, he realizes, thinking about Natasha’s word she uses to describe him sometimes, especially the last couple of years when he’s been working at getting better at being more in touch with his emotions.

“I love you,” Jake says, and like hearing his name for the first time Bradley feels like he’s going to burst. At the same time it’s like Jake Hangman Seresin melts away and Jas is there, eyes wet with unshed tears and he kisses him again, feels the wetness slide over the pad of his thumb.

“I love you so much.”

“Can’t believe it took us this long.”

“You know we could have avoided all this if we'd just told each other our names...” Bradley says, because he’s definitely going to dig a little. He’s still him.

“Names? We could have sent each other photos of our faces…”

“Neither of which you wanted by the way. So I’m making you take the blame for just how long it took. But you also get the credit for figuring it out…”

“Damn right I do.”

“Love you Jake…”

“God you’re a sap…”

“Only with you.”

Jake blushes and Bradley smirks, because genuine sincerity is apparently the way to make him a complete mess.

… … …

Their day back at training after Ice’s funeral he feels more settled and is immediately thrown off balance again by the fact that Maverick isn’t there. He sits there in disbelief as he hears Admiral Simpson outline new parameters and agrees with every muttered and under-the-breath comment. A little distracted by the noise coming in over the radio.

“Uh, Maverick, range control, uh, green range is confirmed. I don’t see an event scheduled for you, sir.”

“Well, I’m going anyway.”

“Nice,” Natasha murmurs and Bradley rolls his eyes. Of fucking course everyone is already impressed with him. He hasn’t even fucking done anything yet.

“Setting time to target: Two minutes fifteen seconds.”

“Two-fifteen? That’s impossible.”

Bradley agrees in principle, however he also knows that Maverick knows himself. He wouldn’t set a time like that if he didn’t truly believe he could fly it. Jake turns around and smirks at him, as if to say this is your fucked up family and Bradley subtly gives him the finger, although inwardly he feels thrilled that he has someone with him, that knows him so well and his whole bullshit relationship with Mav. It’s such a relief, especially now that Ice is gone.

“Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.”

He looks around the room, and he understands why everyone is so invested. If Maverick can do this then it proves it’s actually possible. He already knows it is, Maverick wouldn’t be trying to teach them if he didn’t think it wasn’t possible. But the others need to know it. Know it like he does.

“Popping in three, two, one.”

He leans forward, can feel the tension in the room mounting.

“Bombs away.”

Seconds tick by.

“Bull’s-eye!” “Holy shit!” “Yes.”

“Damn.”

Damn indeed.

He knows then, looking at Cyclone and Warlock’s faces that they’re probably going to send Maverick. Make him team lead. Which means either he's going, or Jake is going. There aren’t any guarantees and he can't believe their actual time together may only be counted in days.

… … …

By mutual agreement they don’t talk about it. They also don’t mention anything to anyone else, instead sequestering themselves away at his family home that no-one knows about except Mav, who definitely won’t be looking. They have to air it out, and deal with the dust and cobwebs, but’s it’s not as bad as it could be and he wonders if he has something else to retroactively thank Ice for, even if he can’t anymore. They buy new sheets and pillows and the entire house soon smells of them and sex and takeout food, neither of them wanting to waste time cooking when they can just be holding each other.

He keeps up his morning cup of coffee picture, tells Jake he doesn’t ever want him to doubt how he feels about him, even when he’s lying in bed and the cup of coffee in question is brought to him by a nearly naked Jake. Tells him the view that comes with his morning cup of coffee is much improved. The time they have together might be short but he’s going to make the most of every moment they have together.

… … …

“It has been an honor flying with you. Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.”

He feels sick. He doesn’t care about flying and proving Mav wrong. Not anymore. He just doesn’t want Jake to go and then not come back. He has no idea who Mav will choose, and he knows Jake feels the same about him going. They’re both good. But there are so many things that can go wrong. There’s a reason why Mav has been listing off fucking miracles.

“Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

“And your wing man?”

“Rooster.”

The relief he feels is immediate, knowing that Jake is going to be safe. Is going to live. It’s immense. The look of on Jake’s makes him feel sick though, because he knows it’s exactly what he’d be feeling if Jake had just been named Maverick’s wingman instead. They find a quiet spot and Jake kisses him like he’s trying to climb inside his body, Bradley presses them together like he’d let him climb inside if he could. Then they’re having to head up on deck.

“Give em hell,” Jake says, and he doesn’t need to say any more, he can see the unspoken words in his eyes and tense line of his jaw. You come back to me, you have to come back to me. He nods in understanding, an unspoken promise.

… … …

He can’t lose his last parent, not now.

God.

If he survives this Jake is definitely going to kill him.

And he’s probably going to get kicked out of the Navy.

He hopes Jake will be okay with him being unemployed.

… … …

“You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good. You all right?”

Then he’s being pushed to the ground and he winces at the pain in his ribs, his head swimming a bit. Fuck. He thinks he has a concussion.

“What the hell?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?

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

“I saved your life!”

“I saved your life! That’s the whole point! What the hell were you even thinking?”

“You told me not to think!” Bradley snaps, because he’s got tone on him now, the fucking self-righteous asshole. They both pant, catching their breath and just stare at each other for a few moments, and he still doesn’t really know how he’s going to relearn how to not be constantly angry or upset with Maverick.

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Bradley states, because he’s meant to be building bridges, not yelling, no matter how much of an idiot he thinks Maverick is.

“So what’s the plan?”

Maverick is insane.

That’s the plan.

No sane person would think this was somehow feasible.

“You’re not serious.”

He’s thinking about Ice’s letter, talking about how he was always glad to have Maverick on his side, because it beat having Maverick as an enemy and god he hopes that still remains true. That Maverick has some infinite well of good luck. Or a guardian angel. Hopefully both.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. An F-14?”

“I shot down three migs in one of those.”

“We don’t even know if that bag of ass can fly.”

“Let’s find out.”

“Mav!” Bradley calls out, but he’s already hustling away. “Oh for fucks’ sake…” Bradley mutters under his breath as he heaves his aching body up and convinces himself that he has to follow Mav. Does he not have pain receptors? Surely he’s aching at least half as badly as Bradley is.

“There’s guys up there, Mav.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s more over there.”

“Okay. Let’s start running.”

“Yeah, run. Run.”

He feels like he’s stepped back in time, the hangar holding the enemy F14 rusty. His body coursing with adrenaline and Maverick is looking crazy-eyed. Bradley knows the feeling.

“Once… once I give you the signal for air, you’re gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to 120. When the engine starts, you got to pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?”

“Yeah.”

Then Maverick is running around and Bradley’s glad that he apparently knows what he’s doing. He thinks of Ice and how he’d always said how crazy Maverick was. He’d always sort of thought he was exaggerating for the sake of telling a good story but is starting to think he downplayed some of the more dangerous shit that Mav has taken part of. It’s a little terrifying to think about. He hops into the back of the F-14 and stares at all the dials and little screens, only vaguely familiar. Maybe from a visit to a fucking museum. He’s starting to really believe that Mav lives the not thinking aspect of his motto, because when he questions the wings coming out, raises entirely valid concerns about it being a taxiway he is just plain ignored. No. He gets told to hang on, like he has another option or any say in the matter.

“Holy shit!”

Holy shit seems to be his inner and outer mantra for the next few moments, Maverick intent on having a one-sided conversation that he doesn’t need to contribute to, which is just as well because he has nothing of value to add. The way Maverick asks him to get in touch with the boat is infuriating, like it’s a simple press of a button like a kid’s walkie-talkie. Nothing is fucking working, and he doesn’t know enough to get it working. He has to ask, feels like Mav is teaching him how to drive all over again, and that was an unmitigated disaster until Ice and Sarah took over.

“Throw the, uh… The uhf-2 circuit breaker. Try that.”

“There’s 300 breakers back here. Anything more specific?”

“I don’t know. That was your dad’s department.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Bradley mutters, and he continues looking, only to see something out of the corner of his eye and he freezes for a micro-second. “Mav, tally two, five o’clock low. What do we do?”

No one is ever going to believe him that Mav’s plan here is wave and smile. He follows the instructions though, can hardly believe that it somehow buys enough time for Mav’s brain to speed through however many options he thinks he has. Bradley doesn’t know how many he’s got, he can’t get past the idea that he’s going to die. Again. The idea of dying. Not actual dying. Maybe it’s just a day where he’s going to constantly think he’s going to die, but never actually does. Fuck he really really hopes so. He will live with the nightmares if he doesn’t actually have to die.

“All right, listen up. When I tell you, you grab those rings above your head. That’s the ejection handle.”

“Mav, can we outrun these guys?”

“Not their missiles and guns.”

“Then it’s a dogfight.”

“An F-14 against fifth-gen fighters?”

“It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot. You’d go after them if I wasn’t here,” Bradley states, absolutely certain of the fact. The taxiway was apparently easy and not risky at all. Holy shit his mind supplies.

“But you are here,” Mav counters.

“Come on, Mav. Don’t think. Just do.”

God he hopes he doesn’t die. Then Mav has shot one of them down and he can’t believe it, warns him about the next one, feels helpless without the option to fire his own missiles. Watching the fifth-gen fighter in action is unreal and god he wants to fly one. Then they’re getting low and heading back into the canyon area, heading out toward the sea, so at least in the general direction of the boat at least. He’s grateful that the terrain does seem to confuse the targeting system, that they still haven’t been shot down and he knows if he lives through this he will need to thank Mav every day. Fuck. If Ice is somehow watching he’ll make sure it happens just to ensure they make up. It would be a power move from him for sure.

When the second fifth-gen plane goes down, the pilot ejecting just before it smashes into the side of the canyon walls Bradley feels his heart start beating again, like his entire body has been in stasis for however long that all took. It probably wasn’t longer than a couple of minutes, but it feels like a lifetime and the briefest moment in time all at once. Through some miracle he gets the radio working, and if anyone asks him what he did he won’t be able to tell them. He attempts to get in touch with the boat, but he’s not sure if it’s working two-way, too distracted by the sudden beeping indicating the location of a bogey and he looks for it, knows he needs to be another set of eyes. Why can they not catch a fucking break? The fifth generation fighter appearing on their nose is a blow, as is them running out ammo, then flares. Nothing left to offer even the smallest splinter of hope. The plane is taking hits and he’s glad they built them to withstand hits because they would be dead by now. Then Mav is talking about gaining altitude and ejecting and he listens this time, pulls the handles desperately, his stomach sinking when nothing happens, the ejection function clearly broken.

“I’m sorry, Goose.”

Oh shit. He can almost feel the waves of Mav’s guilt, that his death is going to be as his back seater just like his dad. He feels like throwing up, not advisable and he’s not going to be alive to have to do anything about it –

BOOM.

The explosion, cloud of black smoke, vibrations and then the new jet appearing all happen simultaneously. Then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions… And prepare for landing.”

“Hey, Hangman, you look good.”

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

He’s pretty sure there’s a threat in there but he could cry he’s so relieved and happy. Soon the adrenaline coursing through his body is going to stop and he’s going to hit a wall but Jake will be there. Mav will be there.

He’s alive.

Nothing else matters.

… … …

Having working engines to land matter.

He’s once again very glad that Mav is the one flying.

Fuck this shit.

… … …

He’s never crash landed on a deck before and he never wants to do it again. He wonders if people have bucket lists of things they don’t want to have happen, but which have happened anyway. Sounds like it might make for depressing lists.

“You good?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” Bradley says, but he’s already thinking about saying similar words to Jake. Searches for him as he steps down from the F-14, his legs wobbly, body aching and head starting to pitch like he’s in a storm. He spies Jake, can’t help but smile at him goofily. He looks so good and he wants to kiss him. It’s probably not a good idea.

“Chalked yourself another kill.”

“That makes two,” Jake says, and Bradley will save the fact that he now technically has three for a day when he needs to bring Jake down a peg. Or when he needs to remind him that he had no choice, because taking life is not a thrill either of them particularly want.

“Mav has five. Makes him an ace.”

Bradley shakes his head, because he’s pretty sure Mav doesn’t like the idea that he’s killed people either, although again he expects similar sage advice to don’t think if he ever asks him about it. Maybe he might surprise him though. He calls out to him, glad they’re at least going to have a chance of mending their relationship and he smiles, starting to feel the world tilt again.

“Thank you for saving my life.

“It’s what my dad would’ve done,” Bradley says, and he knows it’s the truth. The hug he gets has him wincing and Jake hasn’t stepped further away than a couple of feet, has clearly been watching him carefully, is pushing his way towards him, his hands running over Bradley's face and torso in concern and he presses his face into his hand, suddenly feeling like sleep would be a really good thing to do right now.

“You need to go to the fucking sickbay.”

“Uh… Something you want to share with the class Hangman?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah. I just saved his life, don't want him to fall off the fucking carrier and waste all my hard work.”

“Come on, take me to sickbay.”

“Okay, that’s weird... Maybe he's concussed,” Natasha says.

“Oh, he’s definitely concussed,” Maverick says, and Bradley wants to argue, but Jake’s arm is around his waist and supporting him, leading him away from the noise.

Then they’re going down some steps, Jake turns at the bottom and reaches for him, kisses him and Bradley smiles and hums appreciatively, even with his brain feeling like it’s swimming in soup he’ll never turn down being kissed by Jake.

“I thought you were taking me to sickbay?”

“I am, but first I’m going to kiss you because I am so happy to see you alive. And I won’t yell at you, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion –”

“And broken ribs,” Bradley adds, because he’s pretty that where the pain is coming from.

“Jesus Rooster. I am so angry with you. How dare you risk yourself like that. You’re an idiot!”

“Your idiot though. I hope?”

“Yes you’re mine. Damn it. Come on, sickbay.”

“Thought you were going to kiss me?”

“I did, but then you mentioned broken ribs. And I’m thinking we’re going to have to get creative for a little bit while you mend… come on.”

… … …

Of course Mav ends up in the sick bay too, being forced to be looked over by an exasperated Cyclone and amused looking Warlock. Both clearly relieved that everyone is back alive, even if not well.

“So, how long have you two been together then?” Mav asks, and Bradley follows his gaze to his and Jake’s linked fingers. The fact that Jake hasn’t left his side. Yeah. That’s not subtle at all. He guesses they’re done with keeping it from everyone then. He’s more than okay with that.

“Couple of days.”

“Over a decade.”

They look at each other and both pull a face.

“It's complicated.”

Maverick looks between them and simply nods his head.

… … …

Jake doesn’t leave him alone, only when Natasha arrives and tells Jake to go and eat and have a shower does he actually go, kissing him quickly and throwing Natasha a wink as he leaves. She looks a bit worried and confused and he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

“So… you finally giving up on your penpal huh? Settling with Hangman?”

“What?”

“Your online boyfriend. You giving the thing with Hangman a go instead now? I thought you were… going with the guy online.”

“Uh. Not exactly. Jake is my online boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“The guy you’ve been… holy shit. You’ve been together for years and you’ve only just figured it out?”

Oh fuck, he realizes his mistake then, realizes he’s never going to hear the end of it. From both her and Jake both. And probably fucking Coyote too.

“Haven’t the two of you been fucking each other for like, the last three years?”

“Natasha!”

“Oh no, I have heard too many drunken ramblings about his ass to let this go. You owe me so many foot massages if you want me to keep this quiet.”

“Fuck.”

… … …

>>I need to tell you something.

>>Through Grindr?

>>Yeah well, it’s relevant I guess.

>>Wanted to tell you before I delete it off my phone.

>>I haven’t hooked up with anyone but you since 2016.

>>I mean, it’s either been you in person, or you on here. So no one but you.

“Really?” Jake asks, voice loud in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah, really.”

“Oh.”

“Mmm. You’re my first choice online and you’re my first choice in person so pretty much makes you my only choice…”

“Good. Just the way I like it.”

“Me too.”

2019 - Jake's POV

#online and anonymous #Hangster #Sereshaw #hangman x rooster #Top Gun Maverick fanfic

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