#&&. maverick responds

[vegalores]

❛  the holidays aren't so bad with you around.  ❜

@cmdrbee | mav + ice

❛ I couldn’t agree more, Tom. The holidays haven’t been the same for me for a long time, ❜ he admits, taking in a deep breath and huffing it back out again as he crosses the small space until he stands nearer to the fireplace.

The frost was beginning to creep in outside and the chill was in the air even with all of the windows and doors sealed shut, which he found unforgivable. His hands felt like ice in spite of the warm sweater he wore, which did include a merry looking reindeer, unfortunately.

His nose was pink and his cheeks were soon to follow, but he stood before the fire for a few minutes more to try and combat that overwhelming cold. Ideally, he would have crept closer to Tom for shared warmth, but they had been apart for so long he just didn’t know if that was still acceptable.

❛ You wanna join me on the sofa for a while or.. ❜ he broaches the subject gently, unsure and yet very hopeful that the other male will agree to the request. It would be easier to snuggle up discreetly if they were seated next to one another.

[echosong971]

Stormcaller

[batsplat]

I just read your post about the motogp community and I wanted to ask: what are the things that interests you more about the sport?

oof that's a big question... got hooked on the racing itself, stuck around for the fraught interpersonal relationships. I got into the sport in a slightly odd, roundabout way, but it was something fun and new and just 'for me' (again, not a mainstream sport around here) at a time when I was going through a major life change. a lot of what I enjoy about watching sports is the research that goes into fully understanding what I'm watching. motogp is slightly odd in that regard (as I suppose are motorsports I got into more recently in similar fashion), because my technical understanding of the sport will always remain fairly limited. plus, you just understand a sport differently if you've had the chance to compete in it yourself, and obviously I have never raced on a motorbike before. so, for the sport I grew up with that I play myself and have a coaching license for, when I watch a lot of my thoughts and notes concern quite precise details about techniques and tactics and all that stuff. in concrete terms, that is a sport I feel like I could be a commentator for with a little practise... but with motogp, I couldn't do that. it's always going to be a sport I consider myself an outsider to

which does make a difference to me! of course, there's also something fun to that... it's all a bit more new and exciting and less personal. I don't really mind as much if motogp ends up developing in ways I don't approve with, because it's not a sport I feel like is mine to lose. motogp doesn't quite have the capacity to hurt me in that way. I'm just passing through, taking what I can get, and I also accept there are a lot of people out there who understand a hell of a lot more than I do. I have to take experts and the riders themselves at their word more than I would for a sport where... not to sound arrogant, but I kinda believe I know more than a lot of the equivalent people there. but, the thing is, motogp has clearly been able to sustain my interest because it's given me so much that I enjoy researching - and here a lot of it isn't necessarily super technical (though obviously I always want to understand more about those aspects). at the end of the day, motogp provides a lot of the kind of drama I'd kill for in other sports. all of the aliens are absolute gifts in this regard... it's like you're being slapped in the face with one banger of a rivalry after the other, the kind of thing you really really need to dig for in other sports. it's the difference between me having to scrape together an athlete's 2003 blog posts on defunct websites to figure out how she's publicly managing perception of the rivalry with her erstwhile friend and... okay, I mean, essentially I do the same thing in motogp, but there's also the more recent stuff to enjoy. not all other sports can claim the same is all I'll say. plus it's just so bonkers like genuinely where else do you get this sort of thing

for me, sports is all about narrative, and narrative is all about conflict. the joy is in figuring out how the competition makes athletes express themselves - it's a sort of language, in a way, where competing is a kind of constant back-and-forth that's informed by the image of the self and the image of the other and the image of the other's image of the self and so on. it's something I'm a lot lot lot worse at interpreting in motogp... at the end of the day, when I'm talking about riding styles or ways of winning races or mind games or whatever, I'm essentially poking in the dark. I don't know what I'm talking about. which also impacts the level of psychological insight you can get, because having a detailed technical understanding makes it way easier to understand the mental calculus that underlies each action an athlete is taking. but! motogp gives me so much to work with because all the drama is so insane and over the top... it might be poking in the dark - but also they're constantly setting things on fire! so there's plenty that even the layperson can see. it means I follow motogp a bit more for the actual athletes themselves than I do in other sports, though I think it's still quite balanced

but yeah, for me following motogp is primarily about a) watching races and understand as well as possible what I'm watching, and b) going down research rabbit holes, which hopefully also helps (a). with anything I'm a fan of, I'm fairly wary of how I interact with fan spaces. which in motogp terms means there's a lot of things I am extremely disinterested in arguing about, especially if it's stuff I was already sick of seeing seven years ago. I enjoy my fair share of sports discourse, but I find goat debates quite possibly the most tedious thing in the universe in any sport. I love numbers, I have many many spreadsheets dedicated to sports stats for some of the most obscure shit under this sun, but if it's just a dick measuring contest over comparing athletes' achievements, then again, goot bye. mainly I just want to have fun and I'm not going to interact with this sport in a way that doesn't spark joy... I already have a sport I'll never escape from, one is quite enough for anyone. if there comes the point where a specific fan space or even the sport as a whole is no longer fun, I'm out

[reiverreturns]

right my darlings, im getting to the point where i need a kick up the ass to make any headway on getting my writing discipline back. since i keep flitting between three ideas and not progressing any, please tell me what i should write to break my funk. the pressure will mould me.

i am in no way shape or form gauging interest because these will all eventually get written, i just need some goddamn accountability to kickstart the engine again after [redacted] months off.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Hiya I have a request for God Complex Pt.4

The Reader had a very hard day at work (a kid came in with third degree burns or something) and it was very hard on the reader to see and operate on so Natasha comforts her.

(ps, I ADORE your writing xx)

Hey Babe!!

I wasn't going to do anything past pt.3 buuuuuuuut this is too good of an addition not to write 💖 I will add it to the to do list!!

And thank you 🥹 you have no idea what that means to me 😭 💖💕🩷💗 here is a forehead kiss for you 😘

[ilbound]

here's the skinny , brothers : i've been feeling a bit ... uncertain ... about my overall place here. not at all because of anything anyone has done , not to worry , but just generally i think it's wise - because this negative sense has impeded my ability to produce replies of late ( especially any i would deem good or up to par ) - i take a step away for a spell to recalibrate. the queue does have a few things in it still , but i do not know when i'll be able to restock it once it runs out. i'm hesitant to call a hiatus , but my activity will certainly take a hit. as always , thank you for understanding and , if you should like , feel free to request my discord ! i'm more frequently found there.

[streetsweepershenanigans]

While what I write may be inspired by things that happen to me in real life, as a first responder I will never, and I mean NEVER use the things I see at work as inspiration for my fics.

Privacy is privacy and as someone who is a proxy to what can be the worst day or lowest moment in someone's life, their experiences are to be respected.

[the-maverick-asian-restaurant]

MAVERICK! What choice do you have?! Your hands are tied behind you, Angel is also restrained! Fighting will get you nowhere! And I mean, it's worked on so many people, it will work on you. It's either you go with this plan with a very low success rate, or give up and have a 0% success rate

[THE MAVERICK, unable to say anything, just nods]

[vegaprose]

@cmdrbee | pete + tom

❛ I couldn’t agree more, Tom. The holidays haven’t been the same for me for a long time, ❜ he admits, taking in a deep breath and huffing it back out again as he crosses the small space until he stands nearer to the fireplace.

The frost was beginning to creep in outside and the chill was in the air even with all of the windows and doors sealed shut, which he found unforgivable. His hands felt like ice in spite of the warm sweater he wore, which did include a merry looking reindeer, unfortunately.

His nose was pink and his cheeks were soon to follow, but he stood before the fire for a few minutes more to try and combat that overwhelming cold. Ideally, he would have crept closer to Tom for shared warmth, but they had been apart for so long he just didn’t know if that was still acceptable.

❛ You wanna join me on the sofa for a while or.. ❜ he broaches the subject gently, unsure and yet very hopeful that the other male will agree to the request. It would be easier to snuggle up discreetly if they were seated next to one another.

[heavenlysphere]

[rootedinrevisions]

Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics. 

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down. 

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around. 

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. 

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips. 

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air. 

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible. 

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving. 

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. 

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD

WC: 1800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.

“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.

Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”

You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”

You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.

“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”

You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”

Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.

Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.

You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.

He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”

“The one that brought you to my office?”

“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.

You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”

Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”

You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”

Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”

You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.

“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.

Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”

You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.

But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.

Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.

Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”

You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”

Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”

You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.

“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.

“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”

Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”

You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.

“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”

You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”

Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.

“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.

“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.

“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.

Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”

You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.

Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.

“And you?”

“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.

You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”

You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”

You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.

“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”

You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”

…

Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”

You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”

Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.

“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”

You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.

“Such as?” he asks.

You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”

Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”

You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.

You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”

Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”

Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”

You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.

“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.

You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.

Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.

Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.

Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”

You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”

Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”

You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.

Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”

“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”

“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.

Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”

You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”

Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”

You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”

“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.

“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.

Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.

You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.

Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

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[nerdygirlramblings]

a continuation of this

poly!141 x f!reader

The first time you meet Laswell, the boys aren't sure what to expect. They'd just gotten back from a mission that left Gaz on crutches and Soap with a concussion.

You're a prickly thing, but incredibly loyal, and you're pissed that your boys got hurt on one of her operations. So when she shows up on base demanding a meeting with Price to debrief, you catch wind and slip into the office before anyone else.

You're already seated on the leather couch in Price's office when the boys show up, trailed by Price and Laswell. One look at your face, and Ghost cuts his eyes to Price, murmurs, "Maybe we should wait this one."

Laswell's cagey. She didn't get where she is without being completely aware of what was going on around her. She clocked you on the couch, hackles raised, before she fully stepped foot through the door.

Instead of ceding to Ghost's suggestion, or trying to play off her appearance, she turns to you and says, "You must be Maverick. The guys have told me a lot about you."

You look her over, long and slow before responding. "Funny. They haven't said much about you. Laswell, is it?"

If she startled by your brusque nature, she doesn't show it. Instead, she merely replies in the affirmative.

"Your mission caused my boys to get hurt," you say, calm and deadly.

"Maybe if we'd had you on backup, it wouldn't have happened," Laswell says, cutting her eyes at Price, who drops his gaze. You notice the motion and frown slightly, a furrow between your brows. Laswell sees and raises her eyebrow at you. "What, Price didn't tell you I asked about you? Saw your record and thought you should be brought on?"

Now it's not just you looking over it Price, but the rest of the boys as well. "That true Captain?" Gaz asks.

Simon merely grunts and looks away.

"Look," Price says, "we haven't worked with Maverick in the field yet." Here he turns to you. "I didn't want to throw off our rhythm by-"

"Oi! 'at's shite!" Soap nearly shouts. He waves a hand in your direction. "She fits perfectly in our rhythm. Cap'n." He glares hard at Price, conveying all the ways you fit them. "'Avin' 'er on scope might-a kept Gaz off-a them crutches," he continues heatedly.

Laswell clears her throat and all eyes cut to her. "Soap's right, John." She says it with the same authority Price delivers orders in the field, and you begrudgingly respect her for it. Looking between you and the boys, she says, "I think I understand why you didn't want to ask Maverick last time, but I'm taking the decision out of your hands." She looks over at you critically, but as someone appraising a new tool to determine how best to wield it. "Maverick, as of today, you're officially part of the 141."

next

[writing-until-i-drop]

Their mamas are counting down the minutes 🤣 mattress shopping pt 2 is about halfway done, it'll be out soon!

Mattress Shopping | Drabble wc: 693

Javy "Coyote" Machado x reader (no use of y/n)

Javy is your best friend from childhood and when you visit him for the first time in years, your first order of business is to take him mattress shopping.

Warnings!: None, pure fluff

a/n: thank you to @closetspngirl for going down the rabbit hole with me on even the smallest idea about our Daggers!!

Javy opened the door to his apartment for you, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume as you breezed past him, chatting about how your flight was, and what gifts his parents had packed in your suitcase for him. You had grown up together and were practically inseparable from pre-school until graduation when he shipped out to join the Navy. The two of you hadn’t managed to be in the same room in years, keeping in touch mainly via Zoom and text. Javy had to admit, it felt good having you by his side again.

“I’m so excited to move out here, Jav.” You squeezed his arm with a giggle and he kissed the top of your head, the scent of your shampoo the same as it was in high school. “Our mamas had one request to let me move out here though.” 

“And what’s that?” He asked, watching as you strolled into his sparse apartment like you owned the place, tossing your purse on a bar stool, picking up a sweatshirt he had discarded on the table the other night, and pulling it on over your head. It was like no time had ever passed between the two of you.

“That at least one of us gets married by the time we move again,” Javy sputtered, thinking about you getting married. You had dated a few boys in high school, all of whom had seen him as a threat, trying to make you choose between them and him. You had always chosen him, which was something Javy appreciated. But now you were standing in his apartment, wearing his sweatshirt, looking even more beautiful than you had on all the Zoom calls you’d exchanged, and his heart clenched. 

“Married?” You laughed, turning and walking down the hallway, Javy scrambling to follow you.

“Yup. So the first order of business is to see why no girl wants to stick around.” Javy wanted to be offended but he couldn’t, not when you smiled at him over your shoulder, walking into his bedroom. “Javy, what is that?” 

“My bed?” He was confused, coming to stand behind you while you glared at the bed like it was offending you. “What’s wrong with it?” The sheets were freshly washed and he had made the bed to military standards that morning, you could bounce a quarter off of it if you wanted to. 

“It’s a twin, Javy. You’re a grown man in a twin-sized bed, what do you do when you bring girls home?” You laid down on the bed, grunting, “It’s not even comfortable.” Javy was at a loss seeing you in his bed, taking up the entire mattress as you tried to get comfortable. This reaction was new, he had seen you in his bed before, hell, you had shared a bed multiple times before, but he had never had this type of reaction before. 

“I, uh,” He dug his nails into his palm, trying to get a grip on the less-than-clean thoughts he was having about his best friend. “I don’t bring girls here, I always go to their place.” You rolled your eyes, extending a hand for him to help you up.

Javy was going to lose his mind. You were leading him around the mattress store, holding his hand and climbing into every queen-sized bed you could find, teasing him because he refused to lie down with you.

“That’s it, we’re going mattress shopping.” 

“This is it,” You groaned, squeezing his hand as you stretched out. “This is the bed you’re getting, the girls are going to love it.” Except Javy didn’t want any other girls in his bed, he wanted you in his bed. “Lay down with me, Jav.” He didn’t need to be asked twice.

“Fuck this is comfortable,” He had to let go of your hand to get into the bed but he picked it up again when he was laying beside you. “We’re gonna sleep so good on this.” Javy froze when he realized what he said but you didn’t say anything, rolling to rest your head on his chest, squeezing his hand.

“You finally asking me out, Machado?” 

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

Safe Haven Hangman

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: cheating; unplanned pregnancy; swearing; smut; angst

.

.

I’m laying on the couch and stupid romcoms blare from the TV. For some reason, my eyes glance down to the coffee table. They land on our wedding photo. Bradley is cupping my face with his hands, about to kiss me as I beam up at him. “AGHH!” I throw the remote at the frame and watch it fall to the ground, shattering. Tears fall down my cheeks as I think about the events of the past few weeks. Our 4th wedding anniversary. How he was so happy, showering me with presents and affection. After the months of emotional distance, I couldn’t believe it. The next day was when my world came crashing down. A letter in the mailbox that was addressed “Mrs. Bradshaw”. A long, handwritten confession from a young woman. Tear stains marked the page. She said she never knew about me. She said Bradley told her he would leave me when they found out she was pregnant. That was 4 weeks ago. I haven’t spoken to Bradley yet, but the front door lock has been changed. He hasn’t tried to come home. He has tried to call a few times and has left hundreds of texts. I texted him this morning to come over to grab his things, but he hasn’t answered. I have felt angry, sad, vengeful.. every damn emotion under the sun. There’s a knock at the door and I yell, “Not right now, Bradley!!” There’s a soft voice on the other side of the door, “Y/n, it’s me. Please let me in.” I wipe my cheek and walk to the door. “Jake, I am fine.” “No you aren’t.” I open the door and he throws his arms around me. I breathe in his scent, cedar wood and jet fuel. Jake and I met a decade ago, the same night I met Bradley. I was the new tech guru at Top Gun. Phoenix had invited me out to the Hard Deck with the squad. Jake caught my eye, but Bradley made the first move. Before I knew it we were dating. Then engaged. Then married with a house not too far from base. Jake was there for everything. He wasn’t just Bradley’s friend, he was mine too. He was the first one I’d call if something happened when Bradley was deployed. He’d drop whatever, or whoever he was doing to come help. He has been trying to get a hold of me for weeks, but I have shut myself in the house since the letter. Maverick approved my last minute leave, no questions asked. Jake pulls back and scans my face, “Y/n, talk to me.” I walk to the office and hand him the letter. He reads slowly, like he can’t believe what he sees. After a few minutes he sets it down, “Has he been here?” I shake my head and I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, “What do you need me to do?” I shrug, “I put everything of his in boxes. My attorney already sent over paperwork. I just need to have him come over and sign it. Can I ask you something?” Jake nods and I look down at my hands, “Did you ever see him with her?” Jake puts his hand on my shoulder, “No. I noticed he was acting strangely, but if I saw anything I would’ve told you.” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into him. His scent calms me down. I hear keys try the lock and then the doorbell rings. I look at my phone. Bradley had responded.

B: Anything you want. On my way.

Jake grabs my hand as I walk towards the door, “Do you want me to be here for this?” “Please. Just stay in the office for right now. I’ll let you know if I need you.” He nods, turning back into the office.

.

.

I open the door and Bradley is staring at his feet. I motion for him to come in and he follows me to the kitchen. He looks over to the pile of his things in boxes. I sigh, “It’s all there.” His glassy eyes meet mine, “You changed the locks.” I scoff, “You got another woman pregnant.” “Y/n, I never meant for any of this to happen. You know how much I love you. How much I always will.” I slide the folder filled with paperwork towards him, “If you love me so much you can sign these, take your things, and leave.” He opens the folder and tears spill down his cheeks. Bradley reads through it all and I hand him a pen, “Once you sign this, everything is done. No court, no drama. You owe me this, B.” He takes the pen and signs, “Are you gonna sell the house? I see here that’s all you want. You can have whatever, Y/n. I mean it.” I shake my head, “I just want the house. I don’t need your money. I’ll be just fine.” “I’d be okay to pay spousal support. Or give you half of my retirement? After everything it would make me feel-“ I laugh, “B, I don’t care what will make you feel better. Your money means nothing to me. Your money won’t help me. You broke my heart. You are building the life I wanted with someone else. I want you to be as far away from me as possible.” He nods and silently walks boxes to the Bronco. When he grabs the last one he turns back, “So this is it?” I nod and grab my rings out of my pocket, handing them to him. “You can keep those. Really I don’t mind.” Tears sting my eyes, “B, I don’t want them. Please take them back.” Bradley slides them into his pocket and gives me a weak smile, “I’m sorry, Y/n. Take care of yourself, okay?” I nod, “You too.” I shut the door and slide down until I am sitting on the floor with my head in my hands. Jake walks over slowly and sits beside me, “You okay?” I can’t even look up, “10 years. 10 years went down the drain in what, a few weeks? And he is the one crying? He started a whole new life with her! And then he asks me if this is it? Who does he think he is?!” Jake pulls me into his chest and holds me tight while I sob. My body is shaking and it feels like I can’t breathe. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but it feels like forever. Once I calm down, we stand up and Jake wipes a tear off of my cheek, “Hey, how about I order your favorite take out and put on a movie? Just like we would during deployments?” I smile and nod my head, reminiscing on all the times Jake was there for me. How kind he always was. How he always noticed the little things. Bradley meant well, at least at first he did. He was always wrapped up in the next mission or training. Part of me always hoped he would retire young and we could actually live. Travel. Enjoy each other. But now I know how our story ends, and it is far from anything I imagined.

.

.

When I get out of the shower, Jake is on the couch with our takeout on the coffee table. He chuckles, “I kind of ordered too much because I didn’t know what you wanted.” “Thank you, Jake. You really don’t have to do this for me.” “Yes I do. You have been one of my closest friends for a decade, Y/n. I hate seeing you like this.” I nudge him with my elbow, “I’ll be okay. I’m thinking about going somewhere far away, rural. Maybe getting some cattle. And a couple of dogs.” “Okay while that does sound great, you don’t have to leave. You know how much Top Gun relies on you.” My eyes get watery all over again, “I know. I don’t want to leave y’all. Y’all are my family. I’ll think about it.” He turns on a comedy and I try to turn my brain off. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I wake up to the sun shining and I am in my bedroom. There’s a note on my nightstand,

Y/n,

Didn’t want to wake you. Have an early morning, but call if you need anything. Hydrate.

Jake

There’s a glass of water beside the note. I smile and put the note in my top drawer. Jake may be known as the jerk of the squad, but he has always treated me so gently. My mind starts to wander. What would have happened if Jake made the first move? Does he ever think about when we first met? He had been flirty and sweet, but Bradley was bold. He swept me off my feet. But what if it had been Jake? I shake the thought out of my head and log onto my computer to start chipping away at all of the paperwork that has piled up in my absence.

.

.

Friday morning rolls around and I throw on my uniform. I have to go back at some point, so I might as well get it over with. The engine of my truck purrs as I make my way to base. Once I park, I walk quickly to my office. There were some hello’s from the squad. I smile and wave. After a few minutes, there’s a knock on my door. “Hey Mav, come in.” He sits down on my couch, “Was wondering when I’d see you again! How are you, kid?” “As good as you’d guess.” He shakes his head, “Hangman talked to me. And Bradshaw. I want you to be the first to know, Bradshaw will be PCSing to Norfolk. He’s reporting Monday.” I feel a pit in my stomach. Tears sting my eyes, “Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know.” Mav stands up and puts his arms out, “Come here.” I hug him tight and he pats my back before going to the hangar. I look out my window to see a banner that says, “Bon Voyage, Rooster!” Rolling my eyes, I sit back down and keep working. A few hours later, Jake walks in. “Ever heard of knocking?” “I thought friends didn’t have to knock?” “How was the going away party?” He shrugs, “Stupid. Everyone knows what he did. Doesn’t feel like we should be celebrating him.” I laugh, “Let me guess, The Hard Deck tonight?” He walks over and leans on my desk, “Bingo. I’m not really in the mood for that though.” “When are you not in the mood to go drink and pick up women?” He fiddles with my cup of pens, “You know, Y/n, maybe I am finally growing up.” Jake hits me with his shiny white smile and I laugh, “Well I’m going to go by the water to look at the stars tonight, if you wanna join?” “I’ll look for your lantern?” I smile and nod, remembering the first time he found me on the beach. Jake bought a house a few down from ours and Bradley was gone on a very dangerous mission. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go listen to the waves. I had taken my lantern with me and Jake saw it from his back porch. When he came down to check on me, he found me crying and curled up in a blanket. Jake sat there with me until the sun came up. Back then, I wrote it off as him being a good friend. As I sit here with him leaning on my desk, I wonder if that’s all it was. His fingers brush mine, “See you later.” I gulp, “See ya, Jake.”

.

.

When I get home, I take a long shower to wash off the day. Thankfully Bradley stayed far away from me. I go through my closet, wondering what to wear. I settle on a cute little matching set. I make sure to spray my favorite perfume, it smells sweet and floral. I fix my hair in the mirror and then it hits me, what am I doing? Trying to look cute for Jake? A wave of guilt washes over me and I wonder if Bradley felt it when he was with that woman. The sun finally sets, so I grab my blanket and lantern. I head out to my favorite spot right past the dunes. When we bought the house, I was so excited to have the beach as my backyard. It quickly became my getaway. I lay down and gaze up at the stars. The sound of the waves soothes my soul. It isn’t too long before I hear someone walking my way. Jake’s deep voice and southern drawl brings me back down to Earth, “Hey there, Y/n.” He sits beside me and his hand rests on mine, “Hey, Jake.” “See any constellations tonight?” “Ursa Major is right over there.” I stare off at the stars and when I turn back Jake is staring at me. I giggle, “What?” He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “Right now you look like.. you. You haven’t looked like yourself in a while.” I raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” Obviously I know what he means. I knew something was wrong in our marriage. It weighed on me for months. Jake takes a deep breath, “You stopped laughing. And smiling. You stopped being you. I love when you are you.” His eyes meet mine, green and sincere. I smile, “You do?” “Always have, Y/n.” Jake moves closer, just enough to make my heart jump into my throat. I try to collect myself, “You have?” I feel his breath as he responds, “Yes ma’am. Remember that night? At the Hard Deck? Bradshaw got to you first. I have been kicking myself for the last decade.” His eyes are locked in to mine and my heart is pounding out of my chest. Jake’s lips are less than an inch from mine. I thought this would feel wrong, but every part of me wants him. My head is telling me to stop but my heart wins the argument. I lean in just a touch, our lips brushing. Jake’s green eyes turn dark and he whispers, “Are you sure?” I whimper, “Please, Jake.” Our lips meet. He starts off gentle, sliding a hand into my hair. Then his kiss grows hungry, greedy even. It is like he can’t get enough. His hands explore my waist and the curve of my hips. I nibble on his bottom lip and he smirks. His lips move down my neck and he decorates my collarbone with sloppy kisses. I moan, “Mmmm, Jake.” He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, “I have wanted this for so long.” I smile and push him back into the sand, kissing him in a way I never have before. It’s every ounce of tension that has been bottled up between us. It’s an amount of passion that I have never known. We roll around in the sand and I feel like a teenager again. His hands explore under my sweater and he grins, “A lacy bra? For me?” Heat spreads to my cheeks, “Maybe.” He kisses my neck, “Lacy bra. Perfume. You’re really spoiling me, aren’t you darling?” The pet name makes me crazy. I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him like it is my source of oxygen. The creak of my back gate makes us jump apart, fixing ourselves quickly and turning to see who it is.

.

.

An all too familiar voice calls out, “Y/n! Baby! You out here? The front door is locked!” I stand up with the lantern, “Bradley? You don’t live here anymore.” He walks closer and notices Jake, “Hey! Hangman! What’s up dude?” He is obviously hammered. Someone from work must’ve dropped him off, not knowing he’s moved out. Bradley starts wobbling and I go to his side, steadying him. “Thanks baby. What are you up to? You look so pretty.” I sigh, “B, you need to go back to wherever you’ve been staying. Can I call you an uber?” He shakes his head, “Nooo. I want to sleep at home tonight. I miss home. I miss you.” “Bradley, you can’t sleep here. Where have you been staying?” Bradley looks between Jake and I, his drunk brain trying to process what he sees. He finally asks, “Hangman, why are you with my wife? It’s late. You should be out drinking. Lots of ladies at the bar tonight.” Jake shakes his head, “I’m good. Let’s get you back to Bob’s so you can go to bed.” Bradley shakes his head, “No no no. I don’t wanna go. Tell me why you’re with my wife!” I put my hand on Bradley’s chest, “You need to leave, okay?” I order an Uber to Bob’s and we walk him to the sidewalk. He turns to me, “Have you been sleeping with Jake?” I shake my head, “No, B. The only one that cheated in our marriage was you.” He hangs his head and the Uber arrives. We load him in, then head back to the water. Silence surrounds us. Jake finally clears his throat, “I understand if you want me to go.” I shake my head, “Please don’t.” He kisses the top of my head. I take his hand and lead him inside my house.

.

.

This past week I decided to redecorate. Jake looks around, “I like it. Very you. Very Texas.” He motions to my Longhorn memorabilia and I chuckle, “You know, if you weren’t so damn old we could’ve met in college.” Jake rolls his eyes, “I’m only 8 years older than you. We could always take a little trip and go to a football game.. if you wanted to.” I smirk. Jake Seresin. Hangman. Talking about a trip. The man who I have watched avoid relationships like the plague for the last decade. “I’d like that. You know how much I love football.” We sit on the couch and have a couple of beers. Our conversations switch from work, to our friend group, to our families. I’m starting to yawn and Jake stands up, “I can head home.” I stand up and take his hand, “Or you could stay? If you wanted to.” He tilts my chin up and kisses me deeply, “Of course I do.” As he follows me to the bedroom, I realize how nervous I am. We lay beside each other on the bed and watch a lighthearted romcom. I play with his hair, “Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “I am so nervous. The way you touch me.. and look at me.. I..” “You haven’t felt this before?” I shake my head, “Not even close.” He smiles and kisses me gently, “Me either.” Jake continues kissing me, his hands roaming my body slowly and deliberately. He nibbles on my ear and whispers, “You are breathtaking.” My breath hitches and I run my hands over his abs, “Did you mean what you said? About the first night we met?” He nods, “Every word. Have you thought about it, too?” I blush, “I shouldn’t have, but I did.” Jake kisses my neck sloppily, “When would you think about it?” I moan, “On the nights he wouldn’t touch me.” Jake’s eyes grow darker like before, “Oh really? Did you think about me any other times?” “Way more than I’d like to admit.” I smirk and bat my eyelashes. Jake’s voice is almost a growl, “Fuck, Y/n.” I kiss his jawline and down his neck. We finally take a breath, and he pulls me in close to his chest. I look up at him, “Didn’t think you’d be the cuddling type.” He chuckles, “Usually I am not.” He plays with my hair and I could get used to this. The affection. The spark. It could be the newness. It could be the guilt. But, I am going to savor every moment of this feeling.

[snovyda]

Fanfic Plagiarism alert!

Attention, especially for the people in the following fandoms: Mission: Impossible (specifically Benthan) and Top Gun Maverick.

It brings me no joy to say that we have a big problem in these fandoms - a shameless serial plagiarist who copies other people's fanfics from other fandoms, changes character names and sometimes a few desciptions of the settings or adds a few sentences or paragraphs when they feel generous, and posts them as their own. It is literally Ctrl+C / Ctrl+V type of thing.

My friends and I have reported this person repeatedly on ao3, but we still have not received any response from the staff.

Seeing posts from fellow Benthan fans who are excited about the fact that we are getting close to having 1000 Benthan fics on ao3 makes me sad because of this, because I know quite a few of them are just not legit, and, since ao3 has not responded in months, I guess I have to do a good old public call-out.

This person is known on ao3 by the pen name rosexpetals. If they are reading this, I can only recommend them to delete the stolen works (not just the ones listed in this post, if more are stolen, they can be found later anyway) and take a long look at themselves and reflect on their actions. I wish for them to discover the actual joys of writing something of their own, of expressing their own feelings instead of hijacking other people's.

Below the cut are the links to the works and their sources that I and a couple of friends were able to find using just a simple quick Google search. Out of their 96 published fics, at least 29 are provably stolen (and those are just the ones we were able to find via simple searches), which gives off a strong feeling that none of their work is really original. Some of them were copied from the same source twice. 9 more fics are copies of each other, but in different fandoms (very likely just copied from the same sources). As you will see below, sometimes they didn't even bother to change the title of the original fic they were stealing from or its summary:

Fandom: Mission: Impossible (Benthan)

Fic: where's the trophy? (he just comes running over to me) Plagiarized from: where's the trophy? (he just comes running over to me) (by riceenthusiast)

Fic: and i'll hold onto you Plagiarized from: Tender Loving Care (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: bedroom eyes like a remedy Plagiarized from: Keep Me Afloat (by Atalia_Gold)

Fic: i'm sinking, our fingers entwined Plagiarized from: Kisses to Make it Better (by steviewashere)

Fic: the way you hold me (is actually what's holy) Plagiarized from: scars. (by letthesongtakeflight)

Fic: call it what you want to Plagiarized from: care & feeding (by glim)

Fic: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Plagiarized from: Their Fingers Run With Blood (by FoundInTheStars)

Fic: cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Plagiarized from: Shrill Wails That Steal The Air (by Metalbvcky)

Fic: wherever you stray, i follow Plagiarized from: the fate of a con (by shrewritesall)

Fic: fall into me and i'll catch you, darlin' Plagiarized from: Safety II (by zozofia)

Fic: i hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay Plagiarized from: ['til you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn] (by tacos_are_tasty)

Fic: all's well that ends well to end up with you Plagiarized from: would it be enough if i could never give you peace? (by playthetyrants)

Fic: this most assuredly counts Plagiarized from: Must've Done Something Right (by fides_rationem)

Fic: something to rely on Plagiarized from: Unguarded (by trufflemores)

Fic: your string of lights is still bright to me Plagiarized from: your string of lights is still bright to me (by blueberriesandcream)

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Fic: bigger than the whole sky Plagiarized from: Bigger Than The Whole Sky (by catrasredemption)

Fic: look at this godforsaken mess that you made me Plagiarized from: for you i would ruin myself (by mraudersmoon)

Fic: i love you, i adore you (i lay my life before you) Plagiarized from: All That I've Been Yearning For (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night Plagiarized from: Of Speeches and Sofas (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: i don't wanna lose you (that's the kinda heartbreak time can never mend) Plagiarized from: would it be enough if i could never give you peace? (by playthetyrants) - yes, same fic copied again

Fic: you can see it with the lights out Plagiarized from: Tender Loving Care (by as_with_a_sunbeam) - yes, AGAIN

Fic: and i'll forget you (but i'll never forgive) Plagiarized from: Hold Me Closer (by sweet_symphony0)

Fic: you can hear it in the silence (you can feel it on the way home) Plagiarized from: I'd search you in all of my lives (by sunflwrs)

Fic: and my destination (makes it worth the while) Plagiarized from: Pushing Through The Darkness (Still Another Mile) (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: give up on you, my dear (i will never) Plagiarized from: I Lay My Life Before You (by Sokkas_First_Fangirl)

Fic: as if you were a mythical thing Plagiarized from: The Ghost in the Attic (by as_with_a_sunbeam)

Fic: you drew stars (around my scars) Plagiarized from: Value (by trufflemores)

Fic: in my life (i love you more) Plagiarized from: Whistle, I'll Be There (by lovetheblazer)

Fandom: The Beatles RPF

Fic: can't ignore the rest of the world; can you stay and make me feel better? Plagiarized from: love me, always (by darkdisrepair)

Self-copied fics posted by the same person in different fandoms (possibly copied from the same sources)

Benthan fandom: sit with you in the trenches Top Gun fandom: you're all i want, i'll never let you go

Benthan fandom: i vowed i would always be yours Top Gun fandom: standing at the crossroads, no desire to run

Benthan fandom: can we always be this close? Top Gun fandom: in all your pain (i will carry you, always)

Benthan fandom: i know you're scared (and your pain is imperfect) Glee fandom: i'll never let you go The Beatles fandom: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand