#altitude (oc)

[altitudeofalcatraz]

woa.... the lesbian family. . . in my own lil iteration of the scugs i wanted artihunter to have some pups-- all adopted at different times, through different ways-- a sweet little family ☆

[raintailed]

Huh??? Where did these guys come from... (hides my drawing tablet behind my back)

the list!

Oysterpaw (they/them), a water-type abra. They are based on rili orange shrimp because shrimp are cute

Altitude (any pronouns), a water type eevee designed by WhippieKippy. They's a rogue and are very scared of the clans, but they're decently well-known amongst outsiders bc they will heal pokemon in need

Ferris (he/him, they/them), a slime eevee! He is a very spoiled baby

Locustpaw (he/him, they/them), a funky zorua who can change color. He's a medic apprentice :] and yes he always looks somewhat sad

Second palette for Locustpaw because I couldn't decide

Galepaw (he/she/they), a squawkabilly that doubles as a living tornado terrarium. He bullies Sesamepaw and Maskpaw but grows up to be way more mature and mellow

Blotpaw (she/her), a slup (fakemon) found by Pheasantpaw! They have an older/younger sibling dynamic. Also Blotpaw has a habit of climbing up stuff and getting stuck

[aecholapis]

Thanks to your reblog, I went digging for your OC blog + list that I vaguely recalled seeing before, because I somehow missed the fact that you also have an OC named Zenith.

Tell me more about this little sparkling with a most excellent name :D

GLADLY :D

Zenith is a curious little thing, a newspark that was forged in a post-war Cybertron and spared all the trauma and hardships everyone else has been through. It lives a comfortable life as the mentee of both Azimuth and Exopulse and as the sibling of the adolescent Sparkeater twins Munchy and Chomper.

Its friendly nature makes it easy for Zenith to befriend others, a quality Azimuth is trying to erase because that also makes it more susceptible to abuse, betrayal and the likes. He and the twins argue about this often. Azimuth should never be given the sole custody of a child. Ever. But Exopulse is also there and has to play the negotiator. Zenith has come to like Exo a little more than Azimuth and it kills him inside. He's trying to teach all three mentees about life in the only way he knows, but his rigorous mental gymnastics exercises might not be the perfect mentor-student bond building activity. Some of his teaching sticks but it doesn't make him more popular with anyone.

As the student of a ship technician and a professor of mathematics it's not a surprise when Zenith starts showing interest in the more technological side of science. The next part is the least thought-out section of its story and likely to change. Zenith changes its mind later when it realizes how the twins must mask themselves in order to pass in society. Sparkeaters aren't welcomed by everyone on Cybertron and for a very good reason. Most humans wouldn't want to have zombies in their vicinity either. But Zenith wants to change the people's perception of them and goes into sociobiology.

A sketch of Zenith going on a walk with Munchy and Chomper where Zenith is holding their servos.

*Background information that may be good to know:

Many years ago, Munchy's and Chomper's underdeveloped yet infected protoforms had been extracted from an abandoned neutral outpost by Decepticon researchers. Early on, they noticed that their newest test subjects were docile (unless provoked) and so they decided to run a little experiment and try to assimilate the two Sparkeaters into their ranks. Each chose a mentor to learn from, but they never finished their education. Even as their frames stopped in their growth and hardened out into their adult forms, they were not yet mature by Cybertronian standards. When the rogue Sparkeaters attacked their ship and hunted down every spark on board, the twins hid and waited for help to arrive.

[The rest of the story was part of a fun RP I did with @cyber-streak-2 (who I also share creative custody of Munchy and Chomper with, they're its OCs as much as they're mine).]

Exopulse and Azimuth found the two in the wreckage of their home, a Decepticon research vessel that was now overrun by those hostile Sparkeaters. They helped the twins fend off the other Sparkeaters and took them back to Azimuth's ship. Azimuth and Exopulse became their new mentors, teaching them about life and telling them stories of their achievements. Then they landed on Cybertron and with the war over and the Quintessons defeated, everything seemed to go back to how it was before (that's both a good and a bad thing). The twins now have to mask their ghastly features with kibble that Azimuth has kept, which once belonged to his brother. They visit higher education, as does Exopulse (who has been constructed during the war; he is a technician but he wants to become a mechanic too for which he needs a different skillset), while Azimuth goes back to teaching mathematics at a university.

But the twins aren't quite as happy as they hoped they would be. They ask their mentors if they can have a little sibling and after a while they agree on the terms that they take care of it for the most part. So the four of them go to the Well of All Sparks together. Azimuth and Exopulse harvest a developing spark, picking it right out of its orbit, while Munchy and Chomper gather enough metals that the spark can bind to itself.

Zenith looks nothing like its mentors and siblings. However, it looks a lot like Altitude 😏 That's merely a coincidence, I just thought it would be funny to have it resemble Azimuth's long dead brother for no particular reason.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

🤍 Altitude Sickness in Whump 🤍

Altitude sickness occurs when ascending to high elevation, especially when it is done too rapidly or by a person who is physically weak. Low pressure at high elevation causes low blood oxygen levels and other very unpleasant effects on the body. In general, altitude sickness occurs in three stages:

Stage 1: AMS - Acute Mountain Sickness. Symptoms: headache, lack of appetite, dizziness, fatigue, nausea, and vomiting.

Stage 2: HACE - High-Altitude Cerebral Edema. Symptoms: above symptoms plus altered mental status, ataxia, confusion, and drowsiness. Coma can occur within 24 hours of onset.

Stage 3: HAPE - High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema. Can occur after AMS/HACE, or by itself. Symptoms: chest congestion, cough, exaggerated dyspnea on exertion, decreased exercise performance, and coughing blood. Can be rapidly fatal.

Why a character might ascend too quickly:

Being on the run/desperate

Being forced to do so as part of a task or game

Being forced to do so as deliberate torture

Being overly eager to reach the goal

Scenario ideas:

Whumpee starts to develop symptoms while separated from the group or lost

Whumpee tries to hide symptoms to prove they're strong enough to endure the climb

Whumpee forced to do heavy physical labor at high altitude

Whumpee panics, making breathing even more difficult

Caretaker desperately calling for an airlift

Caretaker carrying whumpee down the mountain

Caretaker is also altitude sick, but must carry whumpee anyway

The information comes from the CDC, where you can also find more about treatment, risk factors, etc.

[oscquinn]

sofmack where she waves a little Canada flag at him on Fourth of July or buys him one bc he’s not from the US

bye that’s so cute and silly!!!

thinking about his big grin when she hands it to him with a kiss on his cheek and a little giggle. “get it? cause it’s fourth of july and you’re…” she trails off, a little shy, “i dunno i think it’s funny” and really, someone else could say it isn’t but it wouldn’t matter bc mack laughs at every joke sof makes 🥹

[thyminell]

what the dog doin

THE SILLY!!! THEY!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH, AL!! YOU DREW THEM SO WELL!! AHH! DEVOURS ART LIKE A SQUIRREL (POSITIVELY!!)

[l-rigel-rp-l]

So, you want to know about the star-people. Well, you came to the right place! My name is Rigel, and I’ll be your guide to the Stellaman species!

Stellamans are roughly 4 times the height of an average human. They are mechanical beings, robotic creatures powered by an artificial star in the place where a human head would be anatomically positioned. We are known by many names, not just the Stellamans. Star-people, the Occult Stellaris Gods(or the OSG) , the Andruids of Space, and the Flame Beings are all names that our ragtag group has gone by.

There are only 12 of us in total, due to the fact that we aren’t natural beings. We all live on a spaceship called the Altitude. It is a large, sphere shaped spaceship with a single dome shaped thruster on the side. The ship is equipped with some really neat technology, which helps it do things that most starships can’t even dream of doing.

[h3lgertime]

Unanimous doodle dump

[altitudeofalcatraz]

If anyone sees this, I’m looking for rain world art requests-!! can be canon or non-canon, ships included-! I have no ideas for art so this is what I'm resorting to-- oops.

[nimata-beroya]

Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]

Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.

PLACES / TIME

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Tatooine Location References [*]

Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]

Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)

TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix

Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum

Partisans' attack on Onderon

Siege of Lasan

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

General

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Jedi

Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]

Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest

Mandalorians

Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator

Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]

Clones

Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)

Clone Creator [MandoCreator]

Clone Picrew

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu

GAR structure summary by @intermundia

The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]

Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]

Clones and Kamino [*]

The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller

MISCELLANEOUS

Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut

Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Star Wars Fashion [*]

Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]

Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]

Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett

Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]

HEALTH AND MEDICINE

Canon Medical Lore [*]

Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]

Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives

GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]

GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]

More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]

SHIPS AND VEHICLES

Ship Generator 3D

Ship Name Generator

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset

Republic Vessels Reference [*]

Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]

List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes

Layout of the Havoc Marauder

Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]

FOOD AND DRINKS

Star Wars Menu Generator

In-Universe Alcoholic beverages

Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]

Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams

Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Foodstuff [*]

Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]

Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]

LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY

Languages of the Galaxy [*]

Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars

Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]

Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.

Mando'a Database [Mando.org]

Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)

@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)

Mando’a Categorized Spreadsheet

Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]

Fan-created Conlangs

@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)

Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)

HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.

@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.

@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.

Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.

Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.

WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

Legend

[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.

[aecholapis]

[mlqueen89]

Glossary of Terms linked to (i love you) it's ruining my life - jake "hangman" seresin x f!oc

Ace (Flying Ace or Fighter Ace) = Military aviator credited with shooting down five or more enemy aircraft during aerial combat.

Avionics = Advanced processors and networking systems to fiber optics and conformal wideband antennas, etc.

Bandit = an aircraft identified and verified as enemy.

Bogey = radar or visual contact whose identity is unknown and not yet verified as an enemy. Bogey can also be a friendly once identified.

Break (right/left) = when an aircraft is instructed to sharply turn left/right, essentially "breaking" away from its current flight path to the left/right side

HUD = "Head-Up Display," for fighter pilots is a transparent screen in the cockpit that projects critical flight information directly into the pilot's line of sight, allowing them to view essential data like airspeed, altitude, heading, and weapon targeting details without needing to look away from the outside environment, maintaining situational awareness during flight operations. 

Lt. = Lieutenant (rank)

Lt. Cmdr = Lieutenant Commander (rank)

LTJG = Lieutenant Junior Grade (rank)

Preflight checks = a thorough inspection that pilots perform on an aircraft before each flight, meticulously examining its exterior, systems, controls, and documentation to ensure it is in a safe condition to fly, identifying any potential issues that could compromise flight safety by checking for damage, fluid levels, proper functionality of components, and reviewing necessary paperwork.

Qual(ification) hop = refers to a flight performed by a pilot to demonstrate proficiency in a specific skill or maneuver required for certification or qualification. In the military aviation world, pilots must complete these hops to be officially qualified to perform certain missions, fly specific aircraft, or execute advanced tactics.

RADM = Rear Admiral (rank)

RIO = Radar Intercept Officer (now known as WSO)

SAM(s) = Surface to Air Missile(s)

Splash = typically refers to the moment of impact when a bomb or missile hits its target, essentially signifying the detonation or "splash" of the explosive upon contact.

Tally = communication used to tell a controller they are about to engage enemy aircraft. Also used to announce to the squadron leader (or other person of command in the flight) the spotting of an enemy aircraft.

Telemetry = the collection of data from a remote and usually fast-moving device for measurement purposes. It is used in aircraft/missile testing to track moving objects in action or collect data provided by instruments and sensors on the test object.

Tone = fighter pilot speak for a missile or weapons lock. When a pilot is tracking a target the computer will beeping as it acquires a lock-on, which changes to a continuous tone when lock is established.

VFA = Strike Fighter Squadron

Weapons envelope = the area around the bandit where your missiles or gun can be effective.

WSO = Weapons System Operator (formerly known as RIO)

NATOPS F-18 Manual

Am I missing any? Send me an ask!

[neverniko101]

🫵 GET FANART-ED

Altitude (Alti) belongs to me

Solaris belongs to @bunningchaos

Ya-yeet! A 'Varient' of a Swap Skele!

Imsosorrybutthemispellingistoofunny

Alti, belongs to @neverniko101 !

Solaris belongs to me ^^;

[silvershadow1711]

Apotelesma

Fandom: Binary Star Hero

Word count: 7k

Pairing: Ray/Maddie (OC)

Summary: Stars have always been said to have influence over the course of a person's life. Can a moment of weakness really be considered a mistake if it was fated to happen?

Warnings: Male masturbation, mentions of female masturbation, mentions/descriptions of violence/gore, a mention of sexual assault (nothing happens, he just thinks about it), bodily fluids, lots of angst in general. Like… this was supposed to just be a PWP, but it ended up being kind of really depressing…

A/N: This is something that’s been on my mind for a long time but that I never had any intention of putting on paper. And then I took a little poll on tumblr that essentially asked if I could write a fic (not chapter- fic) that was 7k words. I’ve only done something that short once in the last decade or so of fic writing, so I decided to take the bait and challenge myself. This is written as a bit of an AU of my other BSH fic, "Syzygy", but it's not required to have read that to understand this.

It was always a treat, getting to accompany her on these heists. Well, “accompany” might have been stretching the definition a bit. He was definitely present at the same time as her, even if they weren’t… technically… there together.

Even if he was hovering around fifteen feet above her (usually he preferred to stay between twenty and thirty, just to make sure he was harder to spot if she happened to look up, but he was a bit too… preoccupied at present to focus on his field).

Even if she didn’t know he was there.

But it still counted in his mind, and thank goodness for that because otherwise, she would have been completely alone. The man in the black mask (matching hers, he tried not to think about how his gut twisted if he thought about that too much) had left, taking the handful of lower ranked members that had (actually) accompanied them with him, piling them into a nondescript sedan along with their stolen goods and driving off. Ray had- purposefully- dropped his altitude during the altercation that preceded the split, listening intently as Maddie and her… coworker? Associate? He was loathe to call the petulant man her “partner”, even if it was just a partner in crime (and there was a growing pile of evidence that indicated it wasn’t…).

Well, whatever he was was, there had been a slight concern that their little spat might escalate, potentially becoming physical. The last thing he needed was to spook her by swooping down in full costume and folding this so-called “Double Vision” asshole like an origami swan. Even if he claimed (truthfully in this case) that he was simply doing his duty in protecting a civilian from what he could only assume was a violent altercation, the terror of being approached by a hero mere minutes after committing several felonies would forever poison the well and ensure that she never saw him as anything but a threat. Thankfully, their tiff had remained just that, and even when Ray opened the channels of his mind and let their thoughts flow into his head, all he got was an overwhelming sense of annoyance from both parties. This battle was an old one, practically generational.

But even if his darling little glimmer of starlight was unharmed and unworried about making her way back home alone in the dead of night, that didn’t mean he was. Letting a woman weave through dark alleys all by her lonesome was downright unheroic. He was keeping her safe, truly. Watching the way those tight athletic pants clung to her ass, the inner seam pressing into her pussy enough for him to practically make out the swell of her lips as she crawled through a hole in one of the chain-link fences… that was just a happy coincidence. After all, she mostly wore baggy clothes in the daylight hours- not that he couldn’t still appreciate the swell of her breasts accentuated by the logo of whatever black tee-shirt she was wearing that day.

But her villain get-up, as casual as it was, marked such a departure from her usual aesthetic that even the most mundane things seemed eroticised to the point of lewdity. Seriously; just catching a glimpse of her ankle, the way the skin shifted as the joint rotated, had his dick hard and leaking. What the hell was wrong with him, getting all hot and bothered over an ankle like some deeply repressed Victorian lord? Why didn’t he get hard this easily when he was having sex? Maybe it was a fetish? A villain fetish? But if that were the case, why was it just manifesting now? Why with this… what, G-lister? As Maddie climbed back to her feet, she unzipped her cropped jacket, allowing him an unobstructed view of her throat all the way down to the dip of her clavicle as she rolled her neck in a stretch. His hips jerked of their own accord and he bit his lip until he could taste the faintest trace of copper to stifle the moan desperately climbing up his throat.

At any other time, he might have cut his losses and flown home to jerk off in peace, but… this really was a bad part of town and he really did worry that leaving her on her own might be dangerous. And honestly, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to notice him; just the subject of his strange fascination, and in the five months he’d been tailing her, she hadn’t looked up once. No one in their little gang had. Had they forgotten that justice roamed the skies and no darkness could withstand his light, or were they simply so arrogant as to think they were untouchable? Frankly, Ray didn’t care. Be it arrogance, naivety, or plain old stupidity- whatever the reason, it worked in his favor.

The seam allowances on his suit were annoyingly small, which meant zippers were even smaller. Normally, he used his telekinesis to undo them, but while just about any natural-born telekinetic could split their field at least two ways, as long as he wanted to stay airborne, he was stuck using his hands. And between the tiny zipper and the thickness of his gloves, it was frustrating enough that, if the ache between his legs was coming from his bladder, he would have just pissed in the suit rather than continue fighting it. Alas, arousal was a more powerful motivator than he ever would have imagined- for the first time in his life, he understood why men would seemingly move heaven and earth just to get laid.

Finally wresting open his fly, the cool night air on his overheated skin sent a shiver through him that ended up feeding back into his arousal. Wrapping a hand around his shaft, he began stroking himself hard and fast, copious amounts of pre-cum easing what otherwise would have been unbearable friction from textured gloves. Even in the privacy of his bedroom with all the time he could reasonably expect, Ray never felt the need to build up to an orgasm. If he was at the point of jerking off, he was horny enough and, more often than not, it was simply another bodily function that just needed to be taken care of. Lately, it had become more enjoyable, simply by want of actually experiencing sexual desire when he was doing it, but he still didn’t feel the need to draw it out unnecessarily. For as good as it felt, there was no urge to prolong it, so when Maddie’s voice reached him, and he felt his balls start to draw up, he quickened the pace of his strokes.

Her voice was unintelligible and just audible enough for him to make out that she was singing something under her breath. It wasn’t surprising; she sang all the time, even while breaking into cars or homes (one would guess that was the reason behind her villainous nom de guerre). He assumed it was a way of self soothing, calming what had to be harried thoughts, but at the moment, all he could think was what that range of dulcet tones would sound like moaning his name.

‘Ah, fuck, keep making those pretty sounds for me… I’d have you singing my name all night, Star; I’d conduct a fucking symphony on that sweet pussy of yours…’

He was so caught up in the visions playing out in his mind that he barely noticed that Maddie- and by extension, he himself- had stopped moving. Maybe because there was still motion below him, his star swaying a bit as she tapped out something on the tablet she’d pulled from some interior pocket of her jacket.

“Heh, you keep doin’ that, you’re gonna go blind, sugar pie…” Huh? Slowly, almost too slowly to feel natural, like he was watching something in a dream, the woman below him turned around and tilted her head back, back, craning her neck all the way until she was looking at him. At least, he assumed she was; the eyes of the demonic half-mask she wore were gilded the same as the horns, obscuring her own eyes. The massive fangs that protruded from the carved smile of Double Vision’s mask were the same gold and hid his mouth. Maddie’s mouth was exposed, the massive grin she was sporting putting all her teeth, white and small and just a little crooked in places, on full display.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” She… she wasn’t talking to him. “Man, you are just going to town on that thing!” She couldn’t be. “I gotta say, Binary Star being a full-on exhibitionist was not on my bingo card.” No, this… this wasn’t happening. This… was just a nightmare, h-he was going to wake up at any moment-- “Aww, what’re you doing? Don’t stop on my account. Keep going. Wait!” She backed up, not running, not in any kind of hurry, just about two steps back, raising her hand and pulling it back as well. That was a… strange motion, but one that ultimately made perfect sense as a thin black rectangle floated from its previous position at his side to the front of him. A phone, whatever make and model he wouldn’t have been able to tell even in full daylight (all smartphones produced after 2006 looked interchangeable to him), tilted in such a way that, while he was certain his whole body was in frame, it was obvious the focus of the shot was on his dick, which he was still holding, even if his hand had stilled.

“Okay,” Maddie practically chirped. “Now keep going.” She was talking to him. His bright little star, a singular light amidst the haze of pollution, was saying words directly to him, looking directly at him… There was no fear; she spoke as if they were old friends… She had realized he was following her… she was watching him masturbate, filming it- for who knew how long?

Over the last two or so decades, a shift had begun taking place inside of him, so subtle and gradual that he didn’t really even notice it until a few years ago. A dimming of sorts had happened. Colors were muted, sounds muffled; the entire world seemed to have washed out, leaving everything a bit faded… and that included Ray himself. He had never really been happy- there wasn’t much in his life to be happy about, honestly- but these days, he didn’t feel… anything anymore. Not really. The anger that used to sweep over him had dulled to a perpetual annoyance, disgust morphed into a faint irritation, fear… honestly, he probably hadn’t been afraid since the day he left Steel’s house fifteen years ago. After all, what was there for Binary Star to be afraid of?

The answer was about fifteen feet below him, still swaying a bit, holding a tablet and beaming at him with a shit-eating grin. Arousal curdled into horror that churned in his stomach and drenched the inside of his suit with a cold sweat. The phone was out of reach (especially when it was on the side of the arm that was still holding his dick), and his field dexterity was below that of all but the youngest, most inept children. The pressure built behind his eyes, the peripherals of his vision turning red--

“Ah ah ah! That’s a mistake!” He blinked, and the heat dissipated. “I’m not exactly live-streaming, but I am streaming this to a private server. A server I keep… contingency plans on. And if, for any reason, I don’t log into that server for more than 18 hours, all those ‘contingency plans’ do get live-streamed. Not just on multiple accounts on every social media platform, but other places. Archives. The dark web. This’ll go up right next to that video of you turning that Los Perreros mule into a meat pinata.” What was she talking about- how the fuck did she know about that? NAHA said they scrubbed every copy of that video off the internet. If it were anybody- literally anybody else- saying those words to him, Ray would have taken his chances and removed their head from their body by now. But… if he hadn’t been able to kill Maddie that first night, there was no chance of it now. To hurt her, to even think of extinguishing the sole source of light in his dim, miserable world… that was a type of sickness he hadn’t felt since that day. He swallowed, but his mouth still felt wretchedly dry.

“What do you want?”

“Well, right now, I want you to finish jerking off.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” There was no humor in her tone this time. “You’re still at about half mast- honestly; respect- so… cum and then we’ll talk.” …it had to be a fetish. Because that was the only logical explanation as to why, even in the horrific scenario he’d found himself in, his dick still jerked and began hardening once more just at the sound of his star telling (ordering) him to cum.

With a shaky inhale, he began stroking again. It was impossible to find a comfortable rhythm; he didn’t want to drag this out by going too slow, but the thought of going too fast and seeming too eager made him want to crawl under a rock and die. He didn’t know where to look, he was suddenly far too aware of every part of his body; honestly, the last time he’d felt this uncomfortable masturbating had been back in the NAHA facility when he was eleven. But that awkward discomfort hadn’t stopped him then, and it wasn’t going to stop him now.

Risking a glance downwards, he noticed that Maddie hadn’t shifted even slightly. She had to be looking at him. Was she… enjoying this? It would be easy to tell- he could pull back that mental curtain, peer into her thoughts… but what if she wasn’t? What if she was disgusted by him, despised him? He mentally shook his head to clear away those horrible thoughts. It was Schrödinger’s judgment, and for the sake of his own sanity, he was going to choose to believe that she was watching because she got something positive out of it. With that in mind, he allowed his gaze to grow bolder, roving down her body to land once more on wide hips and thick thighs and the junction between them, groaning slightly as he let his imagination run free, envisioning how he could tear that thin lycra like tissue paper to reveal the treasure beneath. His mouth, his hands, his dick- hell, even his field; he wanted to experience what it felt like to have as much of himself inside her as possible.

His hips bucked into his fist as he felt his orgasm begin to crest, and for one horrible moment, he wondered what it would be like to simply land and play out his fantasies in real life. To tear her silly costume (if it could even be called that) off and push her up against the filthy brick wall and finish those final pumps it would take to push him over the edge inside that sweet pussy he had been dreaming of. She probably wouldn’t take too kindly to that, would probably scream and try to fight him off, but… it’s not like that could actually stop him. Women fighting back hadn’t stopped Steel, after all. And that was what snapped him out of it, that thought; ‘Are you Steel Sheriff…?’ No, but for a moment that lasted only a heart’s beat and an eternity all at once, he’d thought like him. And the thought itself was what pushed him over the edge.

A few more pumps, flicking his wrist and focusing on the head, and he came with a choked moan and a staccato jerking of the hips. The afterglow never lasted very long, the regeneration that kept his body regulated cycling through any burst of hormones rather quickly, even the pleasant ones. A few deep breaths later, and he was once again returned to unpleasant reality at hand. There was no dignified way to tuck his now flaccid dick back into his suit; why the fuck hadn’t NAHA taught him how to not look like an idiot in an embarrassing sexual situation instead of wasting time with media training? At the very least Maddie wasn’t pointing and (openly) laughing at him, waiting until he was zipped up to gesture for him to come closer with a nonchalant yet oddly elegant curl of her fingers.

(How would those fingers feel on his skin?)

(He wanted to put them in his mouth)

(…the hell? Where had that thought come from?)

(Goddammit, he just came- how was he getting hard again!?)

Thoroughly annoyed with both his body and mind, Ray alighted back on terra firma, leaving a good three feet between himself and his strange fixation (an arbitrary distance that was in no part enforced by his attempt to not step in any of the conspicuously milky puddles on the asphalt, no sir). At some point, Maddie’s phone had returned to her hand and she had been typing something on the cracked screen before putting it in sleep mode and returning both it and the tablet to their respective hidden pockets. With her full attention on him, she was no longer leering with that wicked smile. She looked, to be sure- intensely and upon every square inch of him if the motions of her head were anything to go by, but her full lips remained a neutral line. Finally she stilled, her attention turned (presumably) to his face.

“You’re a lot taller in person than you look on TV.”

“I get that a lot,” he muttered. Ray didn’t know how he felt about this whole situation. On the one hand, he was elated that his little star hadn’t taken off running the moment he’d been spotted, that his mind hadn’t been inundated with a flood of terrified, disgusted thoughts reviling him for being a disgusting pervert… but on the other hand, of all the ways he would have wanted to finally make contact with this newfound obsession, being sexually blackmailed into it was definitely near the bottom of his list. With a deep breath and sigh that didn’t sound nearly as shaky as it felt, he ripped the bandage off. “What do you want? Money? Information? ‘Clout’?” He hated the way that word felt on his tongue, and judging by the way Maddie physically recoiled, she hated the way it felt in her ears.

“Ugh, it sounds so hateful when you say it. Like a slur. But to answer your question, no, no, and definitely not.”

“Then what do you want?” She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, and he was once again reminded of that cat she’d stumbled across, the way it had looked at her as she squealed and cooed at it in the most insufferable baby talk he’d ever heard. Did looking at something at a 15 degree angle help you understand it better?

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you kill me as soon as you realized I was filming you?” The better question was, why hadn’t he killed her five months ago?

“I-I’m a hero; heroes don’t--”

“Don’t piss in my mouth and tell me it’s La Croix.” For the first time since he’d noticed her noticing him, she sounded irritated. “I’ve seen you vivisect a man. So why haven’t you split me down the middle?” She made a slicing motion from the top of her head down to her chest to illustrate her point, and Ray’s traitorous mind quickly filled in the gaps, painting a vivid picture of organs spilling out as the two halves of her fell open like a macabre flower, pooling blood overtaking the meager splattering of his arousal. It was only weeks of practice in Pará that had him preemptively slam his lips shut against the mouthful of vomit he threatened to spit up. Swallowing the bile, he kept his eyes fixed on an empty bottle behind her shoe, not trusting himself to look directly at her just yet.

“…because I don’t want to.” He expected her to scoff, to laugh in his face, to call him out on his bullshit. It was the honest-to-god truth, but even to his ears it sounded like a lie. But if he’d ever been able to predict this woman before him, he wouldn’t have been so fascinated by her, now would he?

“…that’s as good a reason as any, I guess.” He blinked, taken aback.

“You believe me?”

“Should I not? Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So. That being the case, what I want from you is twofold. One!” She held a finger up in front of his face. “I don’t know why you’re following me and I don’t particularly want to know. But I don’t want heroes” she actually made air quotes as she sneered, “and law enforcement to know my comings and goings, so from now, if you ever see me again, no the fuck you don’t. Keep my actions and whereabouts out of NAHA’s databases.” A guarantee that he wasn’t going to cart her off to prison- Ray should have seen that coming. Given that he’d been following her for weeks and witnessed her commit multiple felonies in that time, it was safe to say he’d never had any intention of turning her in, but he still made a show of acting beleaguered, sighing heavily, shoulders slumping, the whole shebang.

“I suppose I have no choice. And your second demand?” Her smile came back. Not a full smile, just a little quirk of the corner of her mouth that made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

“Your phone number.” That he wouldn’t have seen coming under any circumstance.

“My… huh?”

“Number. You have a phone, yes? Some way of communicating over telecom lines? So, can I have it? Can I have your number? Can I get the ten digits that comprise your number~?”

“Why?”

“So I can call you. Obviously.” Instantly his mind began racing, trying to figure out what nefarious reasons she could have for wanting to call him. A set up, some misguided attempt to take out Binary Star? Surely she couldn’t be that stupid. For the first time since her argument with Double Vision, Ray opened the channel of his telepathy, allowing her thoughts to pour into his head.

/--‘your number, your number; can I have your number? Your phone number and area code?’ God, I am never gonna forget that until I die…/

Well, that was less than helpful. Maybe this was a joke- maybe she intended to post his number online so annoying fans could harass him? It would hardly be the first time he’d changed numbers.

“I suppose that’s… acceptable.” It took a moment to remember the current string of ten digits he was using; it wasn’t as though he had cause to remember his own number. The only people who called him were those affiliated with NAHA, and they always knew how to reach him. Any “dates” were set up by handlers, including exchanges of contact information, and honestly, Ray saw those glorified publicity stunts as yet another aspect of his job. It wasn’t as though he had friends, family… there was no one outside of work for him to talk to… Once she finished entering the number into her contacts, Maddie once more fixed him with a tight-lipped smile that looked especially wicked when paired with those gleaming horns.

“I don’t make calls often, but I will text. And I expect you to respond.” Another strange flip-flop in his gut, brought on less by her words and more so her tone. It didn’t feel great, but he didn’t dislike it either. Maybe that was what spurred him to push back, just a little.

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, releasing a sex tape worked for the Kardashians- I guess it can work out for you, too. All those sex shops that make unlicensed Binary Star dildos can at least have a decent reference to work off. Oh! Before I forget, you might wanna get that mole on your dick checked out.” The chill slipped down his spine, into his stomach, and all he could do was stand there, gaping like an idiot, as she gave him a bitchy little wave and traipsed off.

Ray avoided social media- he hadn’t really used the internet until he was eighteen, and by that time, it had advanced to the point where it just confused and frustrated him. Besides, he had handlers and PR people to deal with that, to run the accounts on Twitter and Instagram under his name. If there had been any kind of credible threat to his wholesome image (no- fanart and lookalikes doing parody porn didn’t count, much to the chagrin of the NAHA’s marketing department), he would’ve known almost immediately. It seemed that Maddie had kept up her end of their bargain, but even so, he refrained from trailing her for a while. He wasn’t worried about some stupid scandal; he was worried about what she thought of him. Was she afraid he’d go back on his word and send a SWAT team after her? Had she taken to wearing hoods and carrying an umbrella for fear of getting caught in a localized downpour of something that wasn’t quite water? …had she immediately told that Double Vision asshole what happened and now they were both laughing at him…?

Ugh, just thinking about that made his gut churn. He hadn’t felt this bad in decades, his healing factor usually keeping his body too stable for anything but a general sense of malaise. That was probably why he didn’t register his phone ringing until the vibration ran up his thigh. Fishing the brick from his pocket, Ray frowned and squinted, as though that would change what was written on the screen. “Private Number”. It took a few long seconds for his brain to catch up with his eyes. A private, unknown number? How could someone even reach-- the realization struck him and he fumbled to swipe right before the ringing stopped.

“Four rings.” A disappointed clucking from the other end. “We gotta work on your reaction time.” Maddie. He was about to refer to her by name, before he remembered that as far as she knew, he didn’t actually know her name.

“Who is this?” If the hero thing hadn’t gone through, he still would’ve had a promising chance as a child star. He couldn’t sing, but he could sure as hell act.

“Oh, I guess you don’t know me. Hmm. How’s about you call me ‘Bard’? I’m the poor, delicate maiden you busted a nut to the other night.” Ray choked back a scoff. Delicate? He’d seen pit bulls more delicate than her (not that that was a bad thing- the fact that someone who seemed so hard-bitten and borderline aggressive could at the same time be so gentle charmed him to no end).

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did you need something?”

“Nah, mostly just checking to make sure you haven’t forgotten our arrangement. You’re not hispanic, are you?” That threw him for a loop.

“No, why- do I look hispanic?”

“You could be very diluted. But no, I ask because the number you gave me is registered to one ‘Miguel Sanchez’ and… that didn’t sound right. You don’t look like a ‘Miguel’- you look like a ‘Trevor’.” …somehow, that was more insulting than if she’d just called him a cracker.

“I’m not going to have a phone registered in my name, especially with a number that could so easily fall into villainous hands.” He wondered if she would take offense at his little dig. If she did, it didn’t register in her voice.

“So your name’s not Miguel or Trevor?”

“…no.”

“Well, that’s two down. So, what’s up, Lefty?” He frowned slightly.

“Why are you calling me ‘Lefty’?”

“Because your dick curves to the left.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“It does.” Good fucking lord, how intently had she been looking at it!? Was she just studying that video frame by frame!?

“I don’t care; don’t call me that!”

“Sure thing, mole dick!” The sheer delight in her voice made his heart flutter, and coupled with the nerve-wracking embarrassment he was feeling, Ray had to duck his head between his knees until the urge to vomit fully passed.

“…‘Lefty’ is fine.”

“Thought so. Quick question- where are you going to be patrolling tonight?”

“Huh? What makes you think--”

“Don’t play cute with me.” Once again, that short, sharp tone returned. “I know you spend all day doing ‘respectable’ hero work for photo ops and kill gang members under the cover of darkness. You probably have a list of targets to hit, so where are you going to be tonight?” …most people didn’t think of heroes doing dirty work. That was the purview of squads in bulletproof vests carrying assault rifles, not caped crusaders in spandex (read: ballistic nylon). He was supposed to be a symbol of hope, a shining light in the eyes of people, not some shady assassin… Maddie must’ve taken his silence as defiance, and her next words were completely devoid of any levity. “If I die, I will ruin your life from beyond the grave. You know jerking off is the least horrifying thing you’ve been caught on tape doing, right? The shit you’ve done to people makes cartel killings look tame. And most people don’t know about it because it’s on the dark web and they have no idea what that is, but if I get caught up in one of your raids, every goddamn ten year old on Tik Tok is going to see you melting a man’s face off.” Sighing deeply, Ray pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“…there’s a warehouse on East 8th street that apparently has an industrial meth lab. Is that one of your endeavors?” He already knew it wasn’t, already knew she mostly dealt in theft and selling pills, already knew about the pawnshop and autobody shop that acted as her little gang’s money laundering fronts… but she didn’t know he knew, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Hell no- that shit’s poison. Good to know, good to know. Well, that’s all I wanted from you. I’ll text you later~” She hung up before he could even begin to think of a response, and once the line clicked off, he was left staring at his reflection against the dull gray screen. If anyone else had seen him, they would be ashamed at what he had been reduced to, cowering from and taking orders from some two-bit criminal, but Ray himself knew he hadn’t been reduced to anything. There was nothing to be reduced down.

Leaning back against the cushions of his sofa, he huffed in amusement. Lefty. Being teased and getting embarrassing nicknames was a part of growing up, wasn’t it? In the facility, they mostly called him by his designation… “Ray” was technically a nickname, but how many people actually knew the name on his birth certificate was “Raymond”? Maybe if he had actually been treated like a normal boy even once in his life, he wouldn’t have practically had an allergic reaction to it just now. His phone buzzed and he groaned, wondering what Herschel wanted to bitch at him about now. There was no name attached to the alert, once again “Private Number”. Opening the message, that terrifying flutter in his chest came back as his body seemed to fluctuate from hot to cold and back again in seconds.

Here ya go. You look like the kind of freak who’s into feet. See, I can be nice~

He tapped on the attached image before he even realized his thumb had moved, filling his screen. Ray had never, in his life, been “into” feet. Or breasts, or pecs, or asses or anything. Whenever interviewers asked what he looked for in a partner, he always gave a non-answer like “a nice smile” or “their personality” as if the NAHA cared about anything like that. He wasn’t “into” feet, he reminded himself as his gaze roved over the expanse of smooth brown skin and faintest hint of blue beneath the surface, the curves of the arch and ankle… her nails were painted a bright, cherry red.

Once he had finished fisting his dick and cleaning up the resulting mess, Ray quickly pulled up several different porn sites, harriedly looking up several combinations of keywords for some very scientifically unsound research. Five minutes and eight open tabs later, he breathed a sigh of relief as he mentally reasoned that it wasn’t a fetish if it only turned him on when it was one specific person. That made him feel a little better.

It took another week before Ray’s nerves had settled enough for him to feel it was safe to return to his old (or rather, new) hobby, though he never dropped below twenty feet again. True to his word, any time there was a break in or a suspicious instance of several gang members turning up dead with no visible injuries in an area where NAHA’s GPS pinged him, he unfortunately always seemed to be busy dealing with something else. Funny how that happened.

And true to her word, Maddie (or “Bard”, as she informed him) did not call again, but her text messages were somewhat regular. At least once a week, she would demand to know if and where he would be assisting in raids, and occasionally reward him with another picture (it honestly seemed like she was mostly just showing off her collection of nail polish) but every so often, she would send something he couldn’t really make heads or tails of.

Pictures, usually screenshots of cartoons, with captions he was pretty sure weren’t taken from the shows themselves. Pictures of different animals, usually cats (sometimes even her own), videos of short comedy sketches… It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t seem to expect reciprocation, so he had no idea what any of it meant. Loathe as he was to make a fool of himself, he sent a response one day asking exactly why she was sending him all that nonsense.

Oh, is this your work phone? Are you not allowed to look at memes on the clock? Should’ve said that before I sent all those feet pics…

This is my personal phone. Why are you sending me these things?

…bruh, I send everyone shit like this. What, do your friends not link you things they think are interesting?

Ray hadn’t even noticed the phone slipping from his fingers, his entire body feeling numb as the blood rushing through his ears grew louder. Friends… friends? Binary Star didn’t have friends; he had sidekicks he barely tolerated and arranged dates he despised and work associates whose deaths he prayed for. And Ray… Ray didn’t have anyone, not since--

(don’t think about it)

Ray just existed as some pale, soft, disgusting thing that emerged from Binary Star’s exoskeleton at the end of the day, hiding away until his red white and blue shell hardened and that picture-perfect smile was locked in place. Even if he’d been hiding on a certain someone’s balcony more than his far-too-large penthouse these days, the fact remained that no one wanted anything to do with him outside of the role he played.

Except for one person, it seemed. Maybe she was just trying to butter him up, make him lower his guard, keep herself in his good graces- it didn’t matter. No one else had ever so much as made the effort. Maybe deep down, a part of her viewed him as another cat on the street, something to be cooed over for a while. Maybe if she saw him on her balcony, peering into her apartment through the gap in her curtains, she would invite him in and let him have a place amongst the other strays rubbing against her ankles. That was too ridiculous a dream, and yet it was such a pleasant fantasy that he barely noticed the buzzing against his thigh. Tilting his head away from the now-warmed glass, Ray opened his messages, not even bothering to try and suppress the smile tugging at his lips as he saw it was from his star. What silly “meme” had she sent him this time?

Send me a video of you jerking off.

…that wasn’t a meme. He stared at the screen, willing the words to translate into a language he could understand because this wasn’t it. What… on earth could she…?

Why?

So I can send it TMZ /s

So I can watch it. Obviously.

Maybe she thought that made sense, but no- it really didn’t.

Why would you want to watch something like that?

Thank god for texting, because he would not have been able to keep his voice from breaking if he’d spoken.

I’ve watched the video I took too many times. It’s getting stale. I need something new.

Too many times… so she had been watching it. And now she “needed something new”? Was she…? Ray all but threw himself away from the balcony door out of sheer instinct, fearfully staring at the backs of his shaking hands, examining every pore for the tell-tale sign of that horrible glow… Usually, the only thing that resulted in a surge of heat that strong was his birth ability triggering, but… no… His skin remained as dull as ever, and lifting his hands to his eyes, he didn’t see any light reflected back. So his racing heart and quickened breaths and the stiffness rising between his legs were all natural, then.

‘God, you are going to be the death of me, Star…’

It was dangerous, downright stupid, to send a known villain yet more incriminating evidence, but the thought of her watching him as she fingered herself, using him to get off, was too intoxicating to think straight. Settling himself back in front of the curtain gap, he pulled the waistband of his sweats down just enough to free his quickly hardening dick. The videos he took on his phone (evidence of completed missions) always had massive file sizes, so he would just film the climax. As he peeked into the apartment, he could see the back of her head over the back of the sofa, the TV's glare shining through the ends of her curls like a halo.

Given what he knew from months of observation, she probably wasn’t even looking at it, staring at her phone instead. Maybe… watching that video again, fingers working over her clit but unable to reach her peak because she’d built up a tolerance watching the same motions, hearing the same heavy breaths and groans… Did she replay certain parts? Were there close-up shots? Ray brought the neck of his sweater between his teeth to muffle his panting, but it did nothing for the lewd squelching as pre-cum dribbled between his fingers and dripped onto the poured cement between his thighs. For a moment, he imagined what it'd feel like to have Maddie’s hands working his shaft, her hands so much smaller than his, and probably softer too, but just as quickly, his mind axed that notion.

Binary Star’d had no shortage of eager fans of all genders and persuasions offering to pleasure him in whatever way he saw fit, but when given more exclusive access to the number one hero than anyone else in the world, his star had simply demanded he touch himself. For her pleasure. A far more vivid fantasy was conjured, of those curtains pulling back and Maddie standing just on the other side of the glass, looking down at him, not in shock or disgust but… reserved expectation. Head tilted curiously to the side, waiting to see if he would impress her with his pitiful display of devotion.

He was grateful he could hear the TV from out here, because if it had been any quieter, she surely would’ve heard his choked moan in there. Tightening his grip, his tempo swung from languid strokes up and down the length of his shaft, to short, rapid jerking focused on his glans, the only variance coming when his hips bucked of their own accord, throwing off his rhythm. He could already feel his balls drawing up, and as he pressed his thumb against his leaking slit, his clean hand fumbled for his phone, haphazardly pulling up the camera. The orange haze of light pollution provided just enough light for his pallid skin to show up against the dark- a small miracle because the light from the flash would have definitely been noticed.

Making sure his dick was in focus, he tapped ‘record’, moaning and panting just a little more freely as he squeezed his deeply flushed tip. As the pleasure crescendoed, his head fell back and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning a name that he still wasn’t supposed to know. The wet splattering of his cum hitting the glass with force sent another jolt of arousal up his dick and throughout his nervous system and he continued stroking until the over-stimulation began to lean towards painful. Breathing hard, he looked down at the mess he had made, angling the camera up slightly to better capture the milky streaks running down the glass.

“Hope this ends up being as good for you as it was for me,” he muttered, his words a rumble deep in his chest. He couldn’t stop the smile curling his lips as he wiped the cum on his hand off on the glass. “Enjoy, Bard~”

(Dividers by @anitalenia )

[astraljedi]

Bewitched - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (Part 1)

Part 1.5 | Part 2 (coming soon)

Summary: After two years since they last saw each other, Bradley and Sadie cross paths again. What started as a heated rivalry turned into something more, only for Rooster to walk away, leaving Sadie with nothing but a voicemail. Now, assigned to the same mission, tension lingers between them.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female! OC

Warnings: Just some cursing and fighting. It will contain a lot of smut, angst, jealousy, mention of death, PTSD and panic attacks. It also contains spoilers for the Top Gun movies.

Word Count: 4.4k

Song: Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift / right where you left me by Taylor Swift

Author's note: This is a re-upload of an old fic/idea I posted months ago and rewrote. I've been diving back into writing and decided to write a few parts for this idea. If you have any requests for anyone in the dagger squad, request are always open! Also, this is pure fiction, this isn't going to be 100% accurate and it's just for fun. Enjoy!

-

Someday, when you leave me I bet these memories Follow you around

The tension in the room was suffocating. Sadie felt it when she walked in, but it wasn't from the mission.

It was him.

Bradley Bradshaw.

His gaze was on her, sharp and unreadable, and his jaw locked tight as Admiral Solomon introduced her as the leader. She refused to let her expression waver and acknowledged how her stomach twisted at the sight of him after all this time. Instead, she stood tall, arms folded behind her back, nodding once when Solomon finished speaking.

Her eyes flicked over the group. Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, and some familiar faces. But she kept coming back to him.

Bradley

She hadn't seen him since—

No.

Not now.

She shoved the thought away as Maverick stepped forward, taking over the briefing. He explained the flight drills, the schedule, and what was expected from them. Sadie barely heard him. She felt Bradley's stare like a weight pressing against her ribs.

She last heard his voice through the voicemail he left her two years ago.

"I can't, I—" his voice broke.

Sadie gripped her phone tighter, pressing it against her ear.

"I'm sorry, Sadie."

And then it cut off. No explanation. No closure.

Maverick's voice pulled her back.

"You all have ten minutes to gear up and meet me on the runway. That includes you, Captain Kazansky."

Sadie nodded, the movement sharp. She turned on her heel and headed for the lockers, blocking out the murmurs behind her. She could feel Bradley watching her go.

It wasn't until she was halfway into her flight gear that it hit her all at once.

The past.

The mission.

The accident.

Him.

Her fingers fumbled with the straps. Her breath came too fast, too shallow. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't stop them, no matter how hard she tried. 

The walls of the locker room blurred at the edges, narrowing into a tunnel.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

She braced herself against the bench, head lowering between her arms. She needed to breathe. 

She needed to focus.

But all she could hear was her plane screaming warnings at her—

"Low altitude. Low altitude."

She could feel the violent shake of the controls as she tried to regain control: the sharp snap of the eject handle beneath her fingers, the deafening rush of wind, the crack of her body hitting the ground, the suffocating weight of her helmet pressing against her skull, and the rotor wash of the recovery chopper.

And underneath it all—

"I'm sorry, Sadie."

The voicemail looped in her head like a cruel echo, like a broken record.

A hand landed gently on her shoulder, interrupting the voices in her head. "Sadie."

She jerked up, gasping, eyes wide. Maverick was crouched beside her, concern all over his face. Behind him, Coleman stood near the doorway, arms crossed, observing her.

"It's okay," Maverick said, voice low. "You're okay."

She wasn't.

Coleman exhaled. "You can't fly like this, Captain."

Maverick's hand cradled the side of her face, grounding her. "Watch from the ground. Just for today."

Sadie opened her mouth to argue, but Maverick shook his head.

Her jaw clenched, but she gave a slight nod after a moment.

Maverick pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I'll handle the others."

When they left, the silence was suffocating and lonely.

Sadie sat back down, pressing the rough skin of her palms into her eyes.

And then—

The past came rushing in.

Two Years Ago

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon when Sadie stepped onto the carrier's deck, the scent of salt and jet fuel thick in the air. She barely had a moment to process the rush of adrenaline still coursing through her before the roar of an approaching F/A-18 forced her to shield her eyes.

Rooster's jet.

Her grip on her helmet tightened. Rooster's wingman had already exited his aircraft, rolling his eyes—annoyed by the situation that could have been avoided.

Out there, the team had to work together. If they wanted to come home alive—and not in a casket—there was no room for mistakes.

She had flown many missions and led countless pilots, but something about this one had her blood running hot. Sadie was used to being undermined by men, used to the names they called her and the rumors that followed. But not once had someone outright disobeyed her orders during a mission.

He was infuriating.

She waited long enough for his wheels to hit the deck before turning sharply and heading toward him. The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, she was there.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw." Her voice was steady and clipped, but a sharp edge was beneath it.

Rooster barely spared her a glance as he pulled off his helmet. "Captain."

Sadie narrowed her eyes. She knew that tone—disinterested, almost dismissive, like she wasn't worth the respect of her rank like she was just some nepotistic baby-playing soldier.

She wasn't in the mood.

Sadie squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. He towered over her, all broad shoulders and cocky, but she didn't intimidate easily. His chest was puffed out—just like his ego.

"You left your wingman," she said, stepping closer. "You were given a direct order, and you ignored it."

Rooster exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp, sweaty hair. "I was covering you. You were caught too close to the enemy."

"I was baiting them," she snapped. "That's the point of the maneuver. When I give an order, it's because I know what I'm doing out there. I didn't need saving from you."

His jaw clenched. "That maneuver was reckless."

Sadie let out a humorless laugh. "Reckless?" She took another step toward him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his flight suit. "You ignored a direct order and left your wingman vulnerable because you thought you knew better."

Rooster's eyes darkened, but he didn't back down. "You could've been shot down."

Sadie tilted her head, studying him. He wasn't entirely wrong—what she did was dangerous. But it was also calculated. Controlled. And it worked every time. She wouldn't pull that maneuver if it put her or, more importantly, her team at unnecessary risk.

"You don't know me, Lieutenant," she said finally, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "And you sure as hell don't know how to follow a simple order."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "I know your reputation."

There it was.

Sadie felt the slow burn of anger in her stomach, but she refused to let it show. Usually, comments like that rolled right off her. She didn't need to prove herself to men who already made up their minds about her. She knew what kind of leader and pilot she was. But something about this—about him—struck a nerve.

"You don't have to like me," she said simply. "But you will follow my orders, or I'll report you. Not just for disobeying a superior but for disrespecting me as a female pilot. If I were a man, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

Rooster's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he said nothing.

Sadie let the silence stretch, letting the weight of her words settle between them. Then, with a steady, unblinking gaze, she added, "You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

His jaw tensed. Sadie could see the fight in his eyes—the urge to argue, to push back. But he couldn't. Because she outranked him.

Rooster exhaled sharply through his nose before muttering, "Yes, ma'am."

They had an audience—of course, they did. She was constantly being watched, waiting for her to falter or overstep. But that wasn't going to happen. Sadie didn't break. She didn't have meltdowns—not like the men did.

Rooster turned away first, gripping his helmet as he stalked off the crowded tarmac. Sadie's gaze flicked to the group of men who had been staring. They quickly pretended to be busy.

She could write him up, but that would mean a lot of paperwork. And she already had enough to deal with, thanks to Rooster's hiccup of leaving his wingman alone.

…

Being on the aircraft carrier always felt like a buzz. Sadie was most alive when she was in the air with her jet. It was thrilling and euphoric. But there was something about being back at base that brought her peace.

She had her family, the new house she'd already moved into. A white corner-lot home with blue shutters, small but hers. But instead of spending the night there, she was going to the bar after a long day catching up on work.

The Hard Deck felt alive with the low hum of conversation mixing with the crack of pool cues and bursts of laughter while the jukebox hummed a rock' n' roll tune. The scent of sea salt and beer lingered in the air, the warm California night spilling through the open doors.

Sadie barely spared the crowd a glance as she stepped inside. She didn't need to—she felt their attention snap toward her the second she walked in. Part of it was her name, her reputation. The other part was the way she looked. There was no denying her effortless beauty. Light brown curls hung loose over her back, starkly contrasting the tight bun she always wore at the base.

As she passed the pool table, movement caught her eye. A group of lieutenants stood around the table, sticks in hand, easy banter flowing between them. 

Rooster was among them. She didn't acknowledge him.

Instead, she headed straight for the bar, spotting her friend Mia, a Navy medic, already waiting with a beer in hand.

"You're late," Mia teased, pushing the cold bottle toward her.

Sadie smirked, shrugging off her jacket as she slid onto the barstool. "Had to finish up reports. You know, actual work."

Mia scoffed. "Please. Like you weren't just busy terrorizing another group of pilots."

Sadie clinked her bottle against Mia's glass. "It's both a curse and a gift."

Behind them, Rooster stepped away from the pool table, offering to grab the next round for the group. He didn't have to stand near Sadie, but gravity pulled him there against his will. The bar wasn't packed like usual—he could've ordered from the other side.

But he didn't.

He placed his order and waited, close enough to hear Sadie laugh with her friend.

"It was horrible. The worst lay," she said, laughing as she sipped beer. "And then I had to go on a mission for months with that disappointment."

Mia nearly choked on her drink. "Please tell me you didn't let that man leave without knowing he couldn't fulfill."

"Trust me, I didn't. I told him he could fuck off." Of course, she had. Sadie Kazansky was opinionated and ensured people knew how the fucked up.

Mia cackled, shaking her head. "A good deed for the women's community."

"Karma better pay me back for my good deed soon, please."

"I have a feeling good karma is around the corner for you, babes," Mia said, sliding off the stool. "I gotta hit the bathroom. Be right back."

Rooster clenched his jaw, fingers flexing around his glass.

He wasn't sure why it bothered him—why the thought of her in bed with some guy who didn't know what the hell he was doing got under his skin—but it did.

He didn't know what possessed him to move, but he pushed off the bar, forgetting the round for the guys.

Rooster hovered close behind her, his broad chest brushing against her back as he leaned in, lips just by her ear.

"Is that why you're always cranky? No one can make you come?"

Sadie choked on her beer.

His grin was slow, lazy, dripping with amusement. "Save the choking for later, sweetheart."

She wiped her mouth, whipping her head around with wide eyes. "What the fuck, Bradshaw?"

"Cranky Kazansky," he mused, grabbing the round of beers. "It flows off the tongue so easily." He winked at her before turning away and walking toward the pool table.

He didn't need to look back—he could feel her eyes burning into him.

She didn't mean to. Didn't want to. 

But the way his arms flexed as he lined up his shot, the way his fingers curled around the wooden stick, steady and precise—it held her attention longer than she'd like to admit.

How would it feel to have those fingers—

Sadie cut off the thought the moment she felt the heat rise.

Then, Rooster caught her staring.

Mid-shot, he glanced up, his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. Slowly, he dragged his gaze over her summer dress, showing off her toned calves and thighs. His brain flooded with images of what it would be like to have his head buried between them.

The thought lingered as he went back to his game.

That should've been the end of it. She was his superior. They worked together.

Their thoughts alone weren't professional.

"I'm gonna call it a night. I'm getting too old to be out of my house after eleven," Mia yawned. "Want to ride-share?"

"No, I don't think I'm ready to call it a night." Mia gave her a look but hugged her goodbye anyway.

Sadie leaned against the bar, an almost empty beer bottle dangling from her fingers, waiting for the bartender to finish up with another customer. The young and eager bartender rushed toward her, handing her a fresh bottle with a grin that was too enthusiastic.

Rooster shouldn't care. He shouldn't feel anything about a guy flirting with her.

But the way she laughed at his probably terrible joke, the way she blushed when he refused to take her cash for the beer she shouldn't have been paying for in the first place—

Someone like Sadie shouldn't be wasting her time with inexperienced boys.

"Another game?" Coyote asked, lining up the colored balls on the green table.

Rooster tore his gaze away from Sadie and looked at Coyote instead.

"No, I'll give you a break so you can beat someone," Rooster teased before finishing his beer. 

He was about to offer to grab another round—maybe as an excuse to be near Sadie—but he saw her heading toward the bathroom.

"I'll be right back," he said.

Coyote, oblivious to where Rooster was looking, scoffed. "Sure, you're just lucky. I can beat you at this stupid game."

Rooster tossed his empty bottle into the trash and strode after Sadie. She didn't hear his approach over the music, but suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall in the dimly lit bathroom hallway. His palm braced the back of her head, protecting her from hitting the hard surface, while his other hand gripped her waist.

"Are you going home with him?" His voice was low, rough—more desperate than he intended.

Sadie's breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock at how quickly he had her pinned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The bartender." Rooster's grip on her waist tightened slightly. "Don't go with him."

Sadie stared at him, her lips slightly parted, but the bathroom door creaked open before she could speak. She shoved Rooster off, making him stumble back just as a drunk old man staggered out, barely sparing them a glance.

When he was out of sight, Sadie grabbed Rooster by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the small bathroom. She shoved him against the worn-out door, locking it in the process.

Rooster barely had time to react before she yanked him down into a messy, desperate kiss. She took control immediately, tugging his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders as their mouths warred against each other. His large hands settled on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Sadie moaned at the feel of him hardening against her through his jeans. He let her think she was in control—until she started unbuckling his belt. That was when he decided he'd had enough.

In one swift motion, he spun them around, pressing her back against the door before dropping to his knees. His hands skimmed up her thighs, pushing the skirt of her dress higher.

Then, with a flick of his fingers, he slid her underwear down and tossed it over his shoulder carelessly toward the sink.

Neither of them spoke. Their heavy breathing filled the small space, the air thick with anticipation.

Rooster hooked his hand under her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist. Sadie leaned in, biting down on the skin of his neck, impatient, rushing him.

He let out a low groan, his grip tightening on her as he lined himself up at her entrance. His hand slid up to wrap gently around her throat, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Eager, are we, Captain?" he rasped, sliding into her.

Sadie parted her lips to retort, but her words never left her tongue. Instead, her head fell back against the door, pleasure crashing over her.

Rooster watched her—the way her head tilted back, lips parted in a silent gasp—the way her walls squeezed around him, and she wasn't even full of him yet. His grip on her thigh tightened as he thrust into her, slow at first, letting her adjust, savoring every second.

Sadie clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, desperate to ground herself. Fuck. Her breathless curse barely passed her lips as her hands tangled in his hair.

Rooster groaned, low and guttural like he hadn't expected this to feel so damn good. He'd told himself this would be a one-time thing, a way to fuck out the steam and tension between them. But the way she squirmed beneath him, the way their bodies moved together in sync—he knew it was going to take more than walking out of this bathroom to let her go.

And they had barely even started.

"Shit, Sadie," he muttered, his forehead dropping to hers as he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. He was holding back, trying to make the feeling last—for her, for him. 

He couldn't lose control. Not yet.

Sadie's breath hitched, her fingers slipping down to the open buttons of his Hawaiian shirt, fisting the fabric. "Harder," she pleaded, chasing the coil tightening inside her.

Rooster cursed under his breath, his restraint slipping, and obeyed, driving into her with more force. His hands gripped her like he was molding himself to her as if he wanted to carve this moment into his memory.

Sadie's head hit the door, lips parting in a sharp gasp. She wasn't quiet—he should've known she wouldn't be.

"Shh," Rooster hushed, his voice edged with amusement. "You don't want the whole bar knowing what I'm doing to you, do you?"

Sadie huffed a breathless laugh, her grip tightening around his shoulders. "Then show me how a man really fucks," she challenged, her voice dripping with defiance.

That was it. That was the moment he lost himself completely.

With a growl, Rooster lifted her higher, pressing her against the door. He felt her shudder, her fingers threading through his hair. Then her gaze flickered behind him, and he followed it—to the mirror on the wall, perfectly angled so she could see everything.

A wicked smirk spread across his face. "That's right," he murmured, voice rough, his lips brushing against her jaw. "Watch yourself while I fuck you."

Sadie whimpered, her nails digging into his back as the sight of them—of how perfectly they moved together—pushed her over the edge. She bit down on his shoulder, muffling the sound of her moan as she shattered around him.

"Bradshaw," she whimpered, breathless, and the way his name tumbled from her lips was all it took to send him spiraling after her. With a sharp curse, he buried himself deep, his forehead pressing against hers as the aftershocks ran through them both.

For a long second, neither of them moved. Their heavy breathing filled the small space, mixing with the low music hum and the bar's distant chatter beyond the door.

Rooster watched her—how her chest rose and fell, her hair clinging to her damp skin, the faint blush on her cheeks.

That was his doing.

Slowly, he eased back, his hands still firm on her waist, careful with her.

Sadie finally opened her eyes, glancing toward the door. Without a word, she smoothed down her dress, already putting herself back together. But when she caught her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks darkened further, and her lips curved slightly as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Rooster hesitated, buttoning his jeans and tucking himself away. There was something in the air between them—something neither acknowledged.

He decided to keep it light. "Ladies first, Captain." He opened the door for her when she was ready.

Sadie shot him one last look, searching his face as if trying to read his thoughts, but she said nothing. Then, without another word, she slipped out.

Rooster leaned against the wall for a moment longer, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair. He turned toward the sink—and that's when he saw them.

Her lilac lace panties were neatly abandoned on the counter.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips. 

That's my sign.

He swiped them off the sink and stuffed them into his pocket before slipping out of the bathroom minutes later.

His eyes scanned the bar for her, but she was already gone.

"Hey, the guys are calling it a night. Are you good?" Coyote's voice broke his thoughts as he nodded toward Rooster's untouched drink.

Rooster blinked, then forced a smirk as he pulled out his wallet. "Yeah. Just tired."

He tossed some cash onto the bar and downed the last drops of his beer, but his fingers brushed against the lace in his pocket as he walked out into the night.

Yeah, he had a feeling this wasn't the last time.

Present

The locker room was empty. Bradley assumed everyone had gone back to their assigned living quarters. The dim overhead lights flickered and hummed, casting uneven shadows against the metal lockers. Rooster's jaw was tight, his flight suit half unzipped as he tore off his gear, muttering under his breath.

"Stupid. Fucking stupid," he hissed, barely registering his own voice. He was thrilled to be at TOPGUN, following in his father's footsteps, but he had to go and fuck everything up. He had to let his emotions slip earlier that day with Maverick. His fingers curled into a fist before he slammed it into the locker beside him. The sound cracked through the room, echoing off the walls.

A sharp inhale from across the room made him freeze.

He wasn't alone.

His eyes flicked up, breath still heavy, and landed on her.

Sadie stood on the other side of the room, her hand clutched to her chest like she had jumped at the sound. Her eyes were wide, guarded—but only for a split second. Then, just as quickly, her expression smoothed into something unreadable.

"Sorry, Captain," Rooster muttered, turning away, focusing on peeling off his flight suit like she wasn't there. Like she didn't matter.

Sadie exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. "What you and Maverick did up there was reckless."

He looked at her, debating if he had the energy to defend himself. She couldn't even begin to understand how Maverick had set him back.

"If you want to go to that assignment, you must keep your recklessness in check, Bradshaw. I can't have you flying if you can't control your emotions and put the rest of the team at risk."

Rooster let out a sharp laugh, humorless, bitter. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Sadie looked up from her zipped-up bag, her jaw clenched as her eyes locked onto his, filled with anger and—sadness?

"You don't understand what I've been through," he continued, voice rough, turning toward her now. "Especially with him. You don't know what it is to struggle, to grieve—"

"No, you don't know what I've gone through," Sadie cut in, her voice echoing through the locker room, her eyes still locked onto his. "And the weight I carry every single fucking day."

Something flickered in Rooster's expression, but she didn't stop. He hadn't seen her like this—not like before.

"You knew a version of me that no longer exists," she said, quiet but firm, slicing through him like a knife. "The person you're looking at is a version that doesn't have you in it."

Rooster's heart ached—it had never stopped, not since the moment he ended that voicemail years ago. He thought that at some point when they met again, she would have moved on. Maybe married and had a kid—a thought that haunted him for years. Deep inside, he hoped it hadn't come true.

He looked at her for the first time since she walked in. Really looked at her.

He had noticed it before when his eyes landed on her earlier that day. She looked different. She was still Sadie Kazansky—shoulders squared, confidence unwavering to the average person. But he had seen it, just for a second. A slip.

After he got grounded and did his push-ups for Coleman, he noticed her hands shaking. He sensed it. Something about her was different; he couldn't pin it down yet.

Rooster's lips parted, his hand aching to reach for her, but Sadie didn't give him a chance to respond. She grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and walked past him without another word.

The door swung shut behind her, leaving Rooster alone in the locker room—heart pounding, jaw clenched, and the weight of her words pressing against his chest like a vice.

A version that doesn't have you in it.

Sadie held her breath as she walked down the corridor toward her car. She left the base, desperate to get home—to her safe place—but the moment the wheels of her Jeep crossed the gate, her vision blurred with tears.

She swerved into her driveway, slammed the Jeep to a stop, and punched the wheel, her screams ripping through the silence.

All day, she had been holding it in. And being in that room alone with Rooster had nearly made her break. It nearly made her scream, letting everything out.

But he had made his choice.

He didn't want her in his life, and he made it clear when he left her stranded at the gala. 

And she wouldn't allow him to witness the broken version he left behind.

[theworldofotps]

Apple Picking (Drabble) Writing Prompt

Pairing: Damian Priest x OC Rachael Word Count: 640 Description: Rachael finally convinces her boyfriend to take her apple picking.

Got this prompt from @madhatterbri fall writing prompts you can check that out here! Wrote this for one of my faves @new-zealand-chic ________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @surdelcielo @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. ______ Rachael had been talking about going apple picking for weeks, her excitement for autumn bubbling over every time she saw the leaves start to change color. Her boyfriend Damian, who was usually wrapped up in the chaos of WWE, was finally on a short break with the intention of spending some much needed time with his love. Rachael saw this as her chance it took some gentle convincing and a few cheeky promises that he could never resist. Damian agreed to spend the afternoon at the orchard with her much to her delight.

As soon as breakfast was finished, they got in Damian’s car driving to the closet place, Rachael was practically vibrating with excitement as Damian got their basket. Together they strolled through rows of apple trees, the crisp air filled with the sweet scent of fallen leaves and ripe apples. Rachael was glowing, her joy infectious as she pulled Damian from tree to tree. Pointing out and showing him the very best apples, she could find. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her with adoration as she soaked in every moment. Damian found himself very happy that he finally agreed to bring her here, seeing the delight on her face made his chest warm.

“This one looks perfect.”

She said, pointing to a cluster of apples high up in the tree, a small frown forming on her face as she stood on her tip toes.

“But it’s too damn high…”

Damian glanced up, a playful smirk spreading across his face as he watched her in amusement trying with all she could to reach them.

“I don’t think we can reach those unless you’ve got a ladder hidden somewhere.”

Rachael thought for a moment before her own smirk grew as her eyes trailed over her boyfriend’s tall frame.

“We could do that or maybe you could give me a boost.”

He raised an eyebrow but quickly caught on, bending down slightly he looked back at her.

“Okay then short stuff hop on try not to fall or pass out from the difference in altitude.”

He joked, staying still as she carefully climbed onto his shoulders, steadying herself as he stood upright. She giggled, a mix of exhilaration and nerves, but Damian’s strong hands held her securely and after a moment she let go of his head. From up there, the view was even better; she could see a good few rows over.

“See anything good, are you still conscious?”

Damian asked, tilting his head slightly as he kept ahold of her so she wouldn’t fall that was the last thing he wanted to have happen.

“Plenty and yes you ass I’m still conscious jeez I’m not that short.”

Rachael reached out, plucking a few of the bright red apples setting them in the basket that was hanging on her arm. One slipping from her grip but somehow Damian managed to catch it before it hit the ground and carefully lifted it up to her.

 “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Just doing my job.”

He teased, keeping her steady as she continued to pick the basket soon being filled to the brim, she had so many ideas of what to do with the. Finally, she began to slowly climb down, once she was safely on the ground again Damian wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“You know something you were right.”

He said softly, brushing a kiss against her forehead as he took her hand in his and the basket in his other.

“This was a lot of fun I’m glad we came here together.”

Rachael smiled up at him and stood on her tip toes to give him a light kiss.

“Yeah I’m glad we did too.”

Her heart was full as they continued through the orchard, the perfect autumn afternoon unfolding just as she’d imagined.