Latest Posts by lurasty12345678910 - Page 4
exactly!
listened to Bohemian Rhapsody today… i’m so very sorry
Bucky Barnes and you get stuck in elevator for one hour. What are you two doing? 🖤 honest answers only even if they are filthy 🔥
stuck with you
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
words: 2.4k
warnings: 18+ only. smut. angst. all the feelings. unprotected sex. hint of a breeding kink. some spanking. oh some very incorrect description of an anxiety attack and how to help someone through it. i know, i know, but it's for the story lmao. uhm if i'm missing something that should be tagged pls lmk!
notes: i couldn't not write something for this and it was gonna be so smutty and then i started and then i... i dont know what happened lol. but thank you for sending this in, i know it's not a direct answer but i hope you like it <3 thank you in advance for reading and as always, comments and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated!
"What exactly do you think slamming all the buttons will do?" he asked as he leaned against the wall of the elevator, nothing short of casual amusement lacing his voice as he watched you.
You ignored him, trying the emergency call button for the fifth time in the minute that had passed since the elevator stopped moving.
You didn't realize the change in your breathing until Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm. You flinched at his touch, having been too lost in your growing panic to notice he'd gotten closer.
"What?" you asked through a heavy, annoyed breath.
"You need to breathe, sweetheart," he instructed gently, tugging you to face him fully, pulling you away from the buttons as he did.
"I'm breathing," you snapped at him, forcing yourself to take a breath as you worked to steel your nerves. It was all in vain, though. You couldn't fight off the paranoid thoughts as they were coming through your mind too fast to even try and rationalize. "I just," you said shakily, "I ca- I can't,"
You suddenly found yourself nearly bowing over as you tried to catch a breath. Bucky helped you to sit while he kept his hold on you, his intent eyes set on you as your own squeezed shut, your hands mindlessly gripping his forearms as you tried to ground yourself.
"Look at me, sweetheart," he ordered firmly, though he waited patiently for you to follow his instructions.
You felt like you couldn't catch your breath, each one you took was too shallow and you couldn't manage to breathe in any deeper.
"Just hold your breath for a second, doll,"
You were still struggling, and the last thought on your mind was to stop breathing altogether, you were sure you'd pass out if you did. Your gasping was only growing worse as Bucky contemplated his options.
He didn't think long before he gently took your face in his hands and forced you to look at him, your eyes glassy and lips parted, desperate for air. had his heart clenching. He didn't want to see you like that, not with that fear in your eyes. He leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours, more fervently than he even meant to.
You were still against him for a moment, not moving as he pulled you closer to him. It took you a second to register what was happening. All at once, though, your mind caught up, your heart pounding in your chest only growing wilder as you let your eyes close, crawling into Bucky's lap as he held you gently, his lips still against yours. You were all together intoxicated by him, his soft but secure touch, the taste of mint and coffee on his lips, the scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo from your shared shower earlier, it wrapped around you as your previous thoughts of peril faded into the background.
All that you could think of was him, here and now. And you in his solid lap, his thick arms wrapped around you, his hands holding your face so delicately. Your lips began to work with his as you breathed him in and let him taste you in kind.
You soon lost yourself to him completely; and then, after another long minute, you realized you once again couldn't breathe.
You broke the kiss, hungry for air just slightly more than you were for him. You let your face fall as your noses brushed and you finally were able to catch your breath.
"Huh," you huffed, suddenly remembering yourself. You peeked up at him through your lashes meekly before you murmured a soft thank you.
He smirked halfheartedly, but a little bit of sadness he couldn't hide was apparent on his face as you then moved to get off of him, not that you noticed. Your thoughts were once again getting caught in a spiral.
As you tried to move off his lap, you were stopped. Bucky held you down, his large hands gently squeezing into your soft waist, keeping you exactly where you were.
"I get you're still mad at me, sweetheart, but I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you spiral again," he said as he pulled you into him.
You slumped into his chest, letting your heaviness rest on him as you nuzzled your face into his neck.
"I'm not mad at you," you mumbled into his skin.
"Could've fooled me," he breathed a humorless laugh.
You sighed, pulling away from him slightly.
"I'm not mad. I'm just-" you cut yourself off before forcing your tongue to continue, "I'm scared."
Your eyes were glued to his chest as you spoke but the moment the admission slipped past your lips, Bucky was tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes.
"Sweetheart," he began.
"Not of you. Of me. I just... I'm not, I'm not used to this. To being loved, the way you love me. And I don't wanna lose that," you whispered as tears pricked your eyes. "I don't want you to end up feeling stuck with me. Because I'm a lot, Bucky. And I'm not easy to live with. I'm particular and I need alone time a lot of the time... and ... You just have no idea what you're inviting into your life."
"You," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his touch grazing your cheek as he wiped a tear from your skin. "I'm inviting you. I love you. I want you. All of it with you. Every last bit, doll."
You could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke and it only made you all the more worried.
"I'm not trying to pressure you, sweetheart. If you don't want to move in with me, you don't have to. If you need time, I'll wait. However long I have to," he said as his hands began to run up and down your back soothingly.
"I want to, Bucky. I do. I just don't want you to regret this."
"When are you gonna see it," he breathed as he squeezed you closer, looking up at you as he leaned back against the wall behind him.
"See what?"
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I could never regret you."
"You say that-"
"Ever."
Your eyes softened at his insistence, and deep down, you knew he meant it.
Your avoidance of an answer to his question this morning had been you trying to protect not only yourself, but him from disappointment, though it was becoming clearer and clearer that it was only hurting you both.
You were scared, but you also wanted this just as badly as he did. God, how long you'd dreamed about the day you'd wake up in Bucky's bed and not have to rush to your own apartment to get ready for work. How nice it'd be to get home from a miserable day and have him there to make things better without having to endure the twenty minute commute from his place to yours. To share a place together, your and his...
You were near burrowing yourself in his embrace, his hands still soothing up and down your back as he held you close, when you reached to grab one of his hands in yours.
You pulled away from him enough to look him in the eye.
"If you're sure,"
"I'm sure,"
"And if you ever wanna go back on it, or change your mind, I -"
"I wouldn't,"
"But if you do-"
"I won't."
There was a moment, a silent conversation between you two as you look into each other's eyes. You pressed your forehead to his, kissing him delicately before you pulled back again.
You nodded, "I'd love to move in with you, Bucky," you said with a small smile playing on your lips. Your heart soared as you watched the dopey smile that stretched onto Bucky's face before he crushed you against him. "That's all I needed to hear," he said in between kissing you everywhere he could in the position you were in. You laughed as you wiggled to sit up higher on his lap, looking down at him.
You reached a hand to brush through his hair, and as you did the elevator jolted. You caught yourself with a hand against the wall as Bucky tightened his arms around you instinctively.
You felt his warm breath against the swell of your breasts before you looked down with a raised brow. His face was right against your chest, and his eyes were now locked on your breasts as they hung in front of him, his hands grabbing at your ass while his eyes grew darker, filled with even more excitement.
"Wouldn't mind if that happened again," he said huskily.
"Odds are in your favor, you know this complex is the fucking worst," you huffed.
"All the more reason for you to move in with me," he smirked. "But ya know one good thing about these old buildings?"
"Hm?"
"They don't have cameras in the elevators," he said, smacking your ass and causing you to gasp and jolt from the strike.
He was mesmerized by the sight as he repeated his actions over and over again until you were whining and pressing your chest into his face.
"Buck," you mewled pathetically, the tingling between your thighs growing more unbearably with every slap against your ass. Each hit only getting you more wet for him.
You were seconds away from ripping your tank top off yourself but Bucky quickly pulled it off and over your head for you before his lips descended upon your breasts.
You let your head drop back in time with your hips pressing to sit fully in his lap, a moan escaping you when you felt his hard length against you. Your hands were in his hair as his hands squeezed your ample flesh, his lips fervent against your skin still.
You couldn't help yourself as you began tilting your hips over his, back and forth, your movements more urgent the more you felt him twitch beneath you.
Your bra had been tossed to the side minutes ago but you were still in your leggings while Bucky was still fully clothed.
When you tilted your hips just right, you felt his cock rub against your clothed clit and you nearly lost it completely; shoving yourself off of him to finally rid yourself of the clothing that kept you from what you really wanted. Bucky followed your lead without having to be told and got undressed in the blink of an eye. You saw his throbbing length standing erect for you and nearly salivated at the sight, your mouth parted in awe at his beauty. You swear, you'd never get over it. Every little thing about him, from his scars to his own stretch marks, every bit of his was beautiful. And you smiled as you saw him admiring you the very same way, that wonderstruck look in his eyes you'd never get used to. Your patience was wearing down the longer you took, though, and quickly, you climbed back down into his lap before lining his cock up to your slick entrance.
You slowly sank down on him, moans from both of you filling the elevator at the sensation.
"Oh, fuck, doll," he moaned while groping your hips. You started moving up and down his length, slowly as you enjoyed the stretch of him inside of you, wanting to feel each and every inch of his thick cock as it filled you up.
"Mmm," you hummed a mindless moan, throwing your head back in pleasure as Bucky took a pert nipple into his mouth, squeezing and kneading your breast in his big hand. "Feels good, Buck," you breathed, slamming your hips down on his cock, earning a deep throated growl from him.
Suddenly his hands were back on your wide set hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh there as he began fucking up into you himself. You were helpless as you keened at the feeling, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself upright. "Oh god, Bucky, please," you whined, pushing your hips back down to meet his thrusts, "please, please, please,"
"You close, sweetheart?" he panted. "I can feel you gripping my cock, baby, fuck," his eyes squeezed tight as he nearly snarled the curse of pleasure.
"Gonna fuckin' fill you up and then you're really gonna be stuck with me,"
"Bucky," you gasped, though it came out with a moan.
"That's it, sweetheart, take my fucking cock, just like that, doll. Just like that," he punctuated each word with another snap of his hips into yours, rolling into you and rubbing your clit deliciously with his every move.
You were both panting, a sheen of sweat on both of you as he fucked you perfectly, the only other sounds to be heard were of your twin moans and the slapping sounds of skin on skin, the salacious squelching of his dick drilling into you over and over.
His thumb found your clit and drew tight circles over the sensitive bud as he felt your walls tightening around him, wanting to keep him inside of you. It was almost blinding, the way you were hit with your orgasm. Your muscles tightened as Bucky continued to fuck you through the high, unintelligible moans and whimpers of his name and cries intermingled as the waves of pleasure crashed over you over and over again.
You found yourself on your back in the blink of an eye as Bucky continued to pummel into your tight heat, deep strokes along your velvety walls as he chased his own high, holding himself above you as he did.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, baby, I-" his words turned into a deep groan as his pace faltered, soon morphing into heady moans when you felt his warm spurts filling you up as he came inside of you.
His thrusts slowed as did your breathing until he slowly pulled out of you, laying himself down next to you and pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead as you melted into his embrace.
"I mean it, ya know. You're the one who's gonna be stuck with me, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere," he promised with a simper. "Not without you."
This map is the most up to date version as of 3-4-2023 and takes into account all recent movement on anti-trans legislation
You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. “I give them food, they give me company,” you’d say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, “A neighbor plots against you, my lord.”
Oh how confused I was when I got this in the mail, before remembering I signed up to vote for the USA Mullet Championship last year to vote for a kid named Epic
Winner in my heart
New weird horse just dropped, folks.
A spotless giraffe was recently born at Bright’s Zoo in Limestone, TN and was just announced in the media this morning. They’re starting a public naming contest for her, of course.
I’d love to know what type of mutation causes this lack of of pattern, but I don’t know if we have genetics on that for giraffes the way we do other species. As far as is known, she’s the first spotless giraffe ever documented!
spending hours making playlists is the real girl dinner.
i think they should be friends
idk i think learning basic dogwhistles is more effective than any callout bc 99% of the time ppl dont even try to hide it and imao you should not need people to point out to you that a user named smth like wombynation is a radical transmisogynist or that valhalla8148 is a nazi like
"Your show might be delayed by the wga strikes!"
I watched Sherlock, mate. We waited three years for the 3 worst episodes you've ever seen. This is nothing
i think everyone needs to adopt “i didnt say it was good, i said i liked it” into their vocabulary right now. it did me wonders
Reblog if reading someone else’s fanfiction has helped you get through a hard day
This is about Sci-Hub. yeah we get it.. gatekeep knowledge and protect the interests of capital…
Reblog if you need this energy
source
matching
Ice: Can you please be serious for five minutes?
Mav: My record is four, but I think I can do it.
The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ taecupsandtopgun Edition!
A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!
Check out @teacupsandtopgun's piping hot Rewind :) Such a kind human—so happy you wanted to share your favorite re-reads, Beth. Thank you!
While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)
To keep this going throughout the summer, I'll continue to invite friends—other creators and readers—to share their lists. Stay tuned!
If you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier—let's keep this going as long as we can!
If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!
fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)
Damn Those Dog Tags, Jake Seresin, @horseshoegirl So many beautiful moments that I love to reread, and a phenomenal slow-burn romance.
drenched in molten gold, Bradley Bradshaw + Natasha Trace, @lewmagoo Hot. So fucking hot it's unbelievable.
Happy Little Accidents, Bob Floyd, @yanna-banana Such a beautiful characterisation of Bob, and the first full series I read about him.
kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit, Jake Seresin, @theharddeck This is where I boarded the Jake Seresin smut obsession train and never looked back!
My Girl, Jake Seresin, @ereardon I think this is the first fic series that I ever read. Every update was so exciting, and I was absolutely hooked the whole way through.
sin adorno o flores, Mickey Garcia, @rae-gar-targaryen All the Mickey x Cielo fics are like poetry to me. The prose is absolutely stunning!
Steady, Bradley Bradshaw, @callsignvalley This one is a real comfort fic, it's a story about healing and having a second chance at love.
Whiskey and Wine, Jake Seresin, @say-al0e There's something about this fic that is just so sensual and wonderful; I love it!
Creator's Own
California Problems, Jake Seresin This was the first ever fic that I've shared on Tumblr, and it's blossomed into a little universe. The TGM fandom has been so supportive, and I love being part of it!
Creator's note: 🥰 It's such a great idea, thank you so much for supporting fellow fic writers!
Tag list and friends:
A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.
Great in thought but in practice only really works if they’re on the bed otherwise you just get hit in the face. A lot… had a bruise on my cheek from one
The dog tags stay on.
"Yeah, I'ma grab that bitch."
#send fucking help
Maverick: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me. Iceman: But they said not to touch the masterpieces. Maverick: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall. Slider, on a walkie talkie: This is Sli, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.
this is part two of this angsty post about Baby Bradley (you might wanna read it first, just to make sense of this part) - Slider POV
It’s late, too late, when he hears the front opening. He is instantly on alert — Shay’s been sleeping for two hours now, conked out by a whole day at work and cooking up a baby inside her — because it’s too late for visitors.
He almost hits Baby Goose with a baseball bat.
Bradley is taking his shoes off, the spare key they have in the flower pot at the front stairs lying near his backpack. His hands are covered in dirt and he’s looking at Ron with his doe eyes wide.
Everyone says he’s Goose’s mirror image but when he stands there, curly hair getting too long again and messy, with those innocent big eyes and head tilted back, all Ron sees is Carole.
It always makes him melt into a puddle, too.
“Do your folks know you’re here?” Ron will take the dead silence as a no. “How did you even get here?”
Bradley is allowed to take the bus on his own, now that they live in one, stable place and Mav had gone on the three major routes with him — the bus to school, to Ron and Sarah’s house, and to the base.
Ice still insists on driving him around everywhere, just because he is such a control freak.
Bradley’s voice is barely hearable and he isn’t meeting Ron’s eyes as he admits, “I walked.”
They don’t leave that far away — less than two miles — but an eleven-year-old should not be walking around alone on the streets past nine.
Ron takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m going to call Ice—”
“He’s at work,” Bradley interrupts, because of course he does — he always has an answer, growing into the mini Maverick that he is.
“Then I’ll call Mav,” Ron counters.
“He’s asleep.”
“Then you shoulda thought about that before you walked here at one in the morning,” Ron points out before he steps back into the kitchen to grab the phone off the wall.
Midway through the kitchen floor, still in the dark since he forgot to turn on the light, Ron feels a weight hanging onto his pajama sleeve. “Do you have to call him?”
“Buddy,” Ron says because he’s so weak against those big brown eyes but can’t just let Bradley get away with everything. What he did was dangerous. He could have gotten hit by a car, kidnapped, or lost, or—Ron doesn’t even want to think about all the things that could’ve happened.
“I promise I’ll go back home before Mav wakes up,” Bradley pleads.
That’s really not the problematic part in the whole situation. “And what about when Ice comes home and goes to check on you and you’re not there?”
Bradley turns his head away and mumbles under his breath, “He won’t.”
“He won’t what?”
“He won’t do that,” he says, eyes on the floor.
And Ron doesn’t know what it is but there’s just something in his voice, in the way it cracks despite being so quiet, and in his posture, the way he raises his shoulders like a guard — and it’s make something under skin crawl.
“Bradley, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from him.
Ron is weak. He is getting bigger and bigger but he is still so tiny it feels like Ron could fit him in the palms of his hands. He looks even smaller, now, coiled up against Ron’s leg like he wants to turn invisible.
“Okay, you can stay the night—”
“Really?”
Ron would scold himself for falling for it, again, but Bradley’s eyes, even with the excitement in his voice, don’t lose the sad tinge completely.
“But only on the condition that I’ll call Mav anyway and tell him where you are,” Ron says, kind of proud of himself for not giving in completely. “And you have to get up bright and early tomorrow—today, so we can take you to school on time.”
He waves his hand, just so those doe eyes go away before he caves in completely.
“Go get your jammies and make those pearly whites—”
“You’re talking to me like I’m five again,” Bradley says and Ron holds back a smile.
“You gotta deal with it, kid,” he says, shushing him upstairs. “Go, I’ll call Mav.”
Ice’s house (and Mav’s, no that he’d call it that, ever, Maverick will never be his brother-in-law, even if they actually get married someday, he's going to be at best a menace-in-law) is on their speed dial as number one.
He’s expected to wait a few minutes on the line, until Mav wakes up and strides huffing and puffing into the kitchen to pick up the phone, but he barely gets the second tone and hears, “Hello?”
“Mav—”
“Slider, this isn’t a good time, Bradley is—”
“—here,” Ron finishes for him. “He’s here, Mav, showed up about ten minutes ago. Says he walked here.”
“What?” Mav spits out. “I was about to call the goddamn police! Ice, I was about to call Ice!”
Ron’ll never admit it but he agrees that Ice probably would throw a bigger manhunt than the police if he found out Bradley was missing.
“Look, he doesn’t want to go home—”
“Oh, hell no, he’s coming home now, I’m getting my keys—”
“I already promised him he can stay the night,” Ron cuts in, feeling a headache coming.
“You can’t promise him stuff like that!”
Ron might be a dad-to-be only, but he can understand why Mav is pissed off. He certainly would prefer if his kid that he thought was missing came back home so he could at least see that he is safe and in one piece and maybe so he can ground his ass but Bradley—there’s just something off.
“What, do you want me to send him home so he runs off again to some unknown place in the middle of the night?”
“Oh, he can try,” Mav says. “Even if he somehow managed to sneak out again, I’ll now know where he is. I’m going to take my chances.”
“I don’t think he’ll come back here again, not knowing I sold him out to you and let you take him back home,” Ron says. He can hear Mav groan into the phone in frustration and he gets it, he really does, but— “He looks upset, Mav, okay, I don’t know what happened but he wouldn’t have sneaked out on a whim, you know that.”
It takes him fifteen minutes and about a dozen promises to talk Mav into letting Bradley stay the night — he knows Mav probably won’t sleep a blink anyway — but finally, Ron settles on making them some tea so they can have a talk about safety and not giving his parents a heart attack.
And about whatever made Bradley act out like that.
He comes back downstairs and the ginger tea is already lukewarm enough to drink — they only have ginger tea now because Sarah is still nauseous despite being well out of the first trimester. Bradley sits down with him at the table, his Spiderman pajamas on, takes a sip and promptly grimaces.
“That’s yacky,” Bradley says.
“Believe me, I know, kid. It was two against one,” he says, feeling sleepy out of a sudden. “Your aunt would bite my head off if I said anything, anyway.”
Bradley still drinks more because he’s a good kid that never complains. Or maybe because he doesn’t want to talk to Ron.
“You want to tell me why you left home so late?” he prompts. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Bradley crosses his legs on the chair — Ice would’ve told him to sit properly but he’s not here so Ron lets it slide. Bradley shakes his head, wordlessly.
“Did you argue with Mav?” Ron tries again. Bradley looks away, at their fridge and the family photos and their collection of sonograms, and shakes his head, eyes not present. It scares the shit out of Ron. “Bud? Did someone say something? Do something, to you?”
“No,” he says, finally, barely hearable. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ron weighs his options. Bradley's always been a kid with lots and lots of emotions but usually, he wouldn't mind displaying them raw — he could push but he isn't sure whether that would help or harm the situation more. He doesn't want to pressure him but he also doesn't want him to feel like he's alone with whatever made him act like this.
“You want to sleep in your room? Or do you wanna sleep with us, today?”
"Could I—" he begins and then closes his mouth. Ron lets him think through whatever is going over in his head, waiting, until Bradley asks quietly, "Could I sleep with you?"
"Of course you can," Ron says straight away, still feeling unsettled, like he's missing something. "Just try not to wake up your aunt, she's really grumpy in the morning lately. Don't tell her that I said that, either."
*
Bradley’s been—quiet.
The night visits became frequent. Frequent enough that after the fourth time Ice, like the insomniac he is, woke up and went to check on Bradley to find him missing, Mav and Ice bought him a bike. It was safer if he had lights and a helmet on, and the trip to Ron and Sarah’s house took him less time that way. It still isn’t safe but Bradley hasn’t even tried to wake any of them to take him to Ron in a car, like they promised they would, so any alternative was better.
Ron can’t exactly pinpoint what changed aside from how Bradley’s no longer bubbling a mile a minute and how he seems both clingy and unusually detached from them. He’s been staying vaguely around them but never close enough to touch, like he used to.
Today’s been especially strange. Bradley hasn’t even let Sarah cuddle with him after dinner. He helped her prepare the food, quiet and way too focused on tasks for the bouncy eleven-year-old he is, just asking her what to do next and not even humming along to the radio in the kitchen.
Ron, if this was any other kid, would say he is jittery about the parent-teacher meeting and what his folks would hear while talking to his teacher but in all honesty, Bradley doesn’t have anything to worry about — he has perfect grades, and aside from that fight he’d gotten into a couple weeks ago Ice and Mav already know about, he is a sweet, a bit shy kid who isn't much trouble.
Ice and Mav show up to pick him up at half-past eight. Sarah’s already gone for a nap that will turn into nine hours of sleep and Ron and Bradley are quietly sitting in the living room, each reading their own book. Their faces are turned into a grimace from the minute they step in to greet Ron and Mav is observing the kid like a hawk.
Bradley curls his legs closer and gives Ron a very short look, the big doe eyes telling Ron he is about to ask if he can stay the night. Ron shakes his head before he does it long enough he’ll give in.
“Go say bye to your aunt, buddy,” Ice tells Bradley which is a code for an adults-only conversation.
Ron doesn’t like it.
“She’s asleep,” Bradley points out.
It’s the truth, but Mav still hasn’t said anything, just staring at Bradley, so Ron says, “You can wake her up for a minute, she’ll probably want to know you’re going and will give you a kiss goodbye.”
Bradley hesitates, looking between Ron and Ice like they're tricking him into something. He and Sarah didn't have the greatest of starts — she moved to California not long after Carole got diagnosed and was the least familiar face during that hard time, often completely omitted when Bradley sought out adult comfort. It's been getting better and better the more time they spent together, and Bradley's been especially warming up since they told him about the baby — Sarah would talk to Bradley about the pregnancy often, explaining different things, taking him to shop for baby clothes, letting him think of baby names, letting him touch the baby bump. Ron has thought that maybe Bradley finally felt included enough by her to include her in his little trusted family.
Ron sometimes wonders if it's because Bradley knows he'd almost become his stepdad before he and Carole called it quits — they never told him they were together, tried to test it out before Bradley became attached but maybe they hadn't done a good job of it. Maybe when they broke up when it kept on feeling weird with Goose's memory still in both their heads, they should've explained it to him. Maybe he felt like Sarah took Ron away from him and his mom when he started dating her not long after she moved to San Diego.
"You go, bud, you're probably the only person that won't make her grumpy," Ron encourages.
Bradley jumps off the couch and meticulously puts his bookmark in his book and closes it, careful not to crease the pages or the spine — in a mirror image of Ice, because of course — and walks away to the corridor.
They listen until the bedroom door closes behind him, Ice picks up Bradley’s book and puts it in his jacket’s inside pocket, and Ron turns back to the adults-only conversation with a heavy heart.
“He’s apparently been asking about adoption,” Maverick finally says, barely audible.
“I thought you already adopted him. The guardianship was switched to custody after a year, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, he, uhm—”
He doesn't continue and it's scaring the shit out of Ron. He looks like a wreck of a person.
“He’s been asking whether we can give him up,” Ice supplies, voice perfectly leveled, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. Just, expressionless, really.
“For adoption?” Ron asks. Ice nods. “Jesus Christ.”
Even with how withdrawn Bradley's been, he'd have never gone into that territory with his theories.
No wonder Bradley didn't want to say a goddamn word about what was bothering him.
Ice takes a deep breath and says, voice urgent, "Look, he comes to you a lot when he's upset, did he say anything? Anything that could explain where all those questions came from?"
“No,” he denies instantly. “Do you think someone at school could, you know, be a bit too nosy again?”
They had that problem before, in Lemoore, straight after Carole's death and before they moved, when some concerned parents had started asking too many questions about who Mav was and how he was managing Bradley's childcare and who was Ice and why was Ice so involved. It was the whole reason CPS has even bothered to look at Mav's custody agreement and put Bradley in foster care for so long.
“Bradley barely talks to the other kids, still, even if someone’s parents—” Mav stops and his gaze gets all wet and it doesn't go away even when Ice grips his hand. "I don't know."
"Come on, you know it's not—You're doing everything the right way, Mav, he's been through a lot but you could see he is dealing with it now and he's been happy, it's not—"
Ron doesn't know what he wants to say.
"Just talk to him," he says in the end. "He's your kid, just make sure he knows that."
When he looks at Ice, he doesn't know how to react — he's never seen him looking so lost.
"Where's he anyway? He should be back by now—" he grumbles. Maybe actually having Bradley within their range of sight, unharmed and present and not at some strangers house god knows where would make them feel better. "I'll go get him."
Ron walks to their bedroom like a robot, trying to school his expression by to calm so his helplessness doesn't show.
"Buddy, what's taking so long, did you fall asleep too—"
He stops talking at the view he gets when he opens the door — Bradley is curled up around Sarah’s baby bump, his hand under her t-shirt, and Sarah is dozing off again with her fingers in his curls, blinking sleepily at Ron.
"The baby is kicking," he says and he's whispering like anything louder would spook the baby into hiding again.
“I’ll come back in five minutes, buddy,” Ron says, keeping his voice low.
*
Ron's been baby-proofing the house for what feels like weeks now and Sarah is still insisting it's not enough, finding new boops and beeps to improve. And Ron loves her, really, but he also still works about fifty hours a week and the kid is not going to even be moving much for at least six or seven months after they pop out.
They're certainly not going to let the kid out alone on the terrace for longer than that, he's sure, but he's also sure if he told that he's nine months pregnant wife, he'd be sleeping on the couch.
So he's modifying the terrace, so they have baby doors to the steps and the spaces in the little fence around the elevation is baby-proofed with a bouncy mesh net that their baby can smash their face all they want and not fall off.
It's almost eight already and Ron is still going at it, knowing he won't have the time later in the week but also running on about five hours of sleep, when he hears Bradley's bike rattle on the gravel on their driveway.
"Hey, kid," he says, not turning around from the task and trusting that Bradley is not going to run over Sarah's pansies again. Ron really doesn't want to find her planting new ones while nine months pregnant and he knows she would. "You here for anything in particular or just passing by?"
Bradley stops the bike, getting off and carefully avoiding the flower rows, thankfully. He is walking the thing now, to leave it next to their ugly garden shed.
"I was sick the whole week and now I don't understand my science homework," he tells him. "Mr. Kraig said I should come to the extra classes but we have a test before that."
Ron doesn't look from where he's measuring the stupid tiny fence. "Isn't this something you usually do with Mav and Ice?"
“I didn’t want to bother them.”
“So you thought you’d bother me?”
It’s just a joke — if Ron was a little less tired, he’d have remembered that Bradley’s already been feeling fragile around all the adults in his life and not having the greatest of times in general. He’d have been less snarky or maybe he’d have said nothing or maybe he’d prodded a little bit about why Bradley doesn’t want Ice’s or Mav’s help with homework anymore.
It’s just a joke but he doesn’t even manage to turn around and he hears the bike’s chain rattle as the kid starts biking off god knows where, not looking back.
“Bradley—”
He stands up to go over him but the stupid baby doors are in place and he trips when he tries to jump over them, knocking down the roll with the mesh net. It unrolls on the grass and by the time he's untangled from it all, he can't see Bradley on either end of the street.
"Sarah—" he calls out as soon as he's back in the house. "Call Ice and tell them to call us if Bradley turns up back home."
"What? Ronnie, where are you going?"
He's grabbing his car keys because like hell he's just going to sit and wait.
Bradley didn't say a single thing, just ran out. He's not coming back to them, he knows, and he's not sure how long it'll be before he caves in and goes back home.
He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it all.
He keeps on driving around in circles between theirs and Ice's house, looking out for Bradley's bike anywhere on the road, turning up back to check with Sarah that Ice hasn't called every twenty minutes or so.
It's getting dark when he notices Bradley's bike on Ice's porch.
"I'm going to call Sarah, tell her you're here already," Mav says and he dips into the kitchen.
Instantly, Ron's eyes search for Bradley and he's there, in one piece, in their living room, still getting scolded by Ice.
When he notices Ron and their eyes meet, he looks away, stepping to the side enough that he's well hidden behind Ice's legs.
Ice turns around. "Slider—"
Maybe he's too big, too old, for that, but never for Ron — he grabs Bradley under his arms and hugs him, one hand on his back, another under his thighs. It's as easy as it's always been despite what everyone says.
"Jesus Christ, kid," he blurts out. "You scared the living shit out of me."
"I’m sorry,” Bradley says and his voice is hoarse.
“No, I am sorry, kid,” he says, adjusting Bradley in his arms so he can flatten his cheek on Ron’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, you’ll never — never, all right? — bother us, I just—It was a bad joke, okay?”
“I know,” Bradley mumbles into his collarbone. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, kid,” Ron insists.
He maneuvers him in his arms, detaches Bradley’s hands from around his shoulders so he looks at him and his eyes are shiny and red, and god, Ron just wants to take it all back, take it all away.
He doesn’t know what is going on with Bradley lately and he isn’t telling them but he wants them to have a safe place in them, he wants him to keep coming to them until he finally lets them help with whatever is happening.
“Promise me you know that, promise me you know you’ll never ever bother us, no matter what.”
Bradley doesn’t reply anything to that, instead saying, “Can you put me down? I’m not five.”
“Bradley,” Ice reprimands and Ron doesn’t care if he has a tone when he speaks to him, he just cares that—
“Promise me you know,” he repeats.
“I know, I promise,” he says.
He’s still not looking at him or at Ice, and he still seems so small, like he’s trying to take the least space he can, but he’s—he’s promising and Ron has to let go off him at some point, as heartbreaking as it feels.
He sets him back down on the carpet and Bradley curls into himself even more.
Ice opens his mouth, probably to continue the scolding and use Ron’s worry as a leverage, but Ron catches his eyes before he says anything. He shakes his head.
*
Juliette Nicole Kazansky Kerner was born on Friday, just a few minutes after three in the morning, after about twelve hours in labor and delivery.
They've decided early on that it was just going to be the three of them in the delivery suite and then for another twenty-four hours. Ron's mama was coming from Minnesota in about a week and that left just Ice and his little family.
They know the plan so they come in on Saturday, after breakfast, after Sarah slept off the exhaustion and is finally ready for visitors.
There are congratulations and hugs and then Julie crying and asking for food. There is the moment Maverick gets to hold her when she doesn't want to burp and gets her to do just so like it's the most natural thing and the moment after when Ice is looking at him with that smitten expression that Ron used to make fun of, before it became almost constant on him whenever Maverick is around.
There's a moment when finally, Bradley gets a very close look at Julie and stares at her with his mouth open and eyes wide and Sarah asks him, "Do you want to hold her?"
And then he's listening like his life depends on it when Sarah and Mav explain to him how to hold a baby and how he needs to be very careful with her head and not make too many movements not to drop her.
“She’s so tiny,” Bradley says and Ron is pretty sure he's repeated it at least three times now.
“That’s why you have to be really careful with her, buddy,” Ice says, adjusting Bradley's arm so it's holding their little Julie closer to Bradley's chest.
They're safely sitting in a big armchair with a pillow underneath just in case, but Bradley seems to have taken the cautions to heart and is holding Julie's limp head up and coconing her with his arms like it's a mission.
“She looked bigger in Aunt Sarah’s belly,” he says, still sounding awed.
Sarah laughs because truly, Bradley was the only one who could indirectly call her big and not unleash a hormonal wrath.
Maybe he said it too soon because Sarah starts crying instead, her lips are trembling when she looks at the two of them from where she's lying in bed still and next thing Ron knows, there's a waterfall.
She's smiling so he isn't too worried. He gets a whiplash because in less thirty seconds, Ice is crying to, still hovering over Bradley like the control freak he is, and if Ice is crying, that means Mav is not far behind.
Bradley lifts his head from where he was gazing at Julie and okay, Ron is a bit teary-eyed, too, by the time Bradley asks innocently, “Why is everyone crying?”
Those big doe eyes just make him weak. He's just praying he'll have more restraint with his own kids.
The nurse comes in to check on both Sarah and Julie, telling them she's probably going to be discharged tomorrow morning if their obs keep on being so good.
"We probably should grab something to eat," Ron supplies. "There's a buffet nearby."
Sarah had refused hospital food. And he's not going to be refusing her some good food when she's just popped a whole human into the world.
Bradley, realizing that standing up would mean letting go of Julie, asks, “Do I have to go with you?”
“No, but remember Mav is going to be picking your food if you stay and you know how he feels about vegetables,” Ice says.
“It’s fine,” Bradley decides and wow, the kid is really smitten, too. “Can I stay?”
They switch Bradley from the armchair to sitting next to Sarah in bed, just in case, and he's pouting the whole two minutes he doesn't have Julie in his arms.
"That was adorable," Ron says as soon as they leave the room. "I didn't think he'd take so well to her."
“I kinda wish we could have another kid just so he could be a big brother,” Mav says and he sounds like he's still melting inside.
“Yeah,” Ice agrees absently and he sounds so dreamy Ron snorts. “What?”
“Tom ‘I Don’t Like Kids’ Kazansky wanting more kids is never not going to be amusing,”
“It’s different when it’s your kids,” he protests, not ashamed at all.
And Slider supposes it is, at least for Ice because Ice is so good with Bradley, loves him so much, that he sometimes wonders if Ice's aversion to kids was just some way to protect him from heartbreak when having kids seemed impossible, given who Ice tended to love.
*
"Our three-month check up is on Friday, do you think you will be able to go with us? It's at six."
He's unpacking groceries in the kitchen, late after getting back from work, and Sarah is sitting in her rocking chair, nursing Julie for the last time before they put her to sleep for the night — she's going to wake up at least twice, but she seemed to have faded into tiredness as soon as Ron got to hold her for five minutes.
He's pretty sure he's only got paperwork to do on Friday so he should be fine, but—
“Thought it was going to be on Saturday?”
“Tom mentioned Bradley’s match is on Saturday, I thought you’d probably like to be there, too, so I made the switch,” Sarah says.
“He didn’t say anything about a match,” Ron notes. “Baby Goose, I mean.”
“We missed his last two so I thought we should probably start going to them again,” Sarah explains gently, her voice going quieter as Julie starts to fall asleep mid-feeding again. “He’s apparently banned Ice and Mav from coming because he’s embarrassed when they come, you know Tom is a bit of a soccer mom and—Ronnie?”
He—He feels it again, the feeling that something is wrong, but he can't really explain what is wrong with Bradley's behavior — kids do grow, get embarrassed by parents and uncles and want more independence. It just doesn't sit right with him.
“He didn’t tell me about his matches,” he realizes. It’s baseball season, it’s been for weeks. “He hasn’t slept over in four months, Shay.”
“He’s almost a teenager, he’s bound to start thinking you’re uncool,” Sarah says and it doesn't—
She isn't saying anything that doesn't ring true, Ron himself had those thoughts when he was much younger than Bradley. But it doesn't sit well with him. Bradley's been so off before Julie was born, for months, and now suddenly he seems to be not only fine, but fine without any of their support.
Sarah bumps Julie's nose, putting her shirt back over her arm and grabs the towel to put over her shoulder—
“At least you’ll have this one thinking you can save the world for a few more years," she says. "Can’t imagine how Mav and Ice are feeling right now.”
some people requested tagging so here you go hons: @callsign-hummingbird, @happypopcornprincess, @nearlynadin, @strangelove97, @pollyna, @heartthyshark
i know it's been a long time so let me know if you don't want me to tag you for the next part
"But she gave birth to you, you owe her!"
My mother wanted to be a mother. It was her dream to be a mother. She poured all her energy into being a Good Christian Mother.
She did not want me. She wanted motherhood. I was a side effect of her dream. Once I was old enough to disagree with her, she hated me. I wasn't making her look like a Good Christian Mother. I was loud, disobedient, needy... almost like a child. Not quiet and pretty and grateful for crumbs.
Yes, she birthed me. For herself and her partner. For the people who were already born. Not for me. As all mothers have for all of time. It's not the birthing that makes a mother worth honoring, it's the parenting.