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misswynters · 4 months ago

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Off Screen Story

Ewan Mitchell x fem!reader

[a/n: feeding my own agenda lol

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The sun set on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the set of House of the Dragon. Filming had wrapped up for the day, and the cast and crew were beginning to disperse. Ewan Mitchell, who played the brooding and intense Aemond Targaryen, walked off the set with a sense of satisfaction. He was eager to catch up with his co-star and longtime girlfriend, who played his on-screen wife, Lady ___ Velaryon.

"Hey," Ewan called out as he spotted you by the catering table, pouring yourself a cup of tea. You turned, a bright smile lighting up your face as you saw him.

"Hey yourself," you replied, setting the teapot down. "How was your day?"

Ewan shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. "Same old. Aemond broods, Aemond schemes, Aemond rides a dragon. You know the drill."

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, you do it so well. I think you were born to play this role."

"And you were born to play Lady Velaryon," he retorted, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I mean, who else could pull off being both fierce and elegant?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort that only Ewan could provide. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mitchell."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I aim to please."

The two of you found a quiet corner on set, away from the bustling crew, and sat down on a pair of folding chairs. You sipped your tea while Ewan stretched out his long legs, looking relaxed and content.

"Do you remember our first scene together on The Last Kingdom with Phia and all them?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ewan's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Of course. How could I forget? You nearly knocked me out with that wooden sword."

You blushed at the memory. "Hey, that was an accident! I was just really into the character."

"And I was really into dodging your swings," he teased, earning a playful swat on the arm from you.

"But seriously," you continued, your tone softening, "I think that's when I knew I liked you. You didn't get mad or frustrated. You just laughed it off and helped me get it right."

Ewan's expression turned tender, his gaze locking with yours. "Well, I think I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. You were so passionate, so dedicated. It was hard not to be drawn to you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for the man beside you. "We've come a long way since then, haven't we?" He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Yeah, we have. And now here we are, playing husband and wife. Life has a funny way of working out."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky turned a deep shade of purple, stars beginning to twinkle overhead. It was moments like these that reminded you how lucky you were to have found each other, both on and off-screen.

"I was thinking," Ewan said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Maybe we should do something special this weekend. Just the two of us."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How about a little getaway? We could rent a cabin in the countryside, away from all the chaos. Just relax, enjoy each other's company."

The idea sounded perfect, and you felt a surge of excitement at the thought. "That sounds amazing, Ewan. I could definitely use a break."

"Great," he said, leaning in to kiss you softly. "I'll make the arrangements. We'll leave Friday evening."

You kissed him back, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. "I can't wait."

Friday evening arrived faster than expected. Ewan had managed to keep the details of the trip a secret, only telling you to pack for a weekend away. You trusted him completely, knowing that whatever he had planned would be perfect.

As you drove through the countryside, the city fading into the distance, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Ewan had chosen a scenic route, the landscape dotted with rolling hills and quaint villages. The cabin he had rented was nestled in a secluded spot, surrounded by lush trees and a sparkling lake.

"This is beautiful," you breathed as you stepped out of the car, taking in the serene surroundings.

Ewan grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I thought you might like it."

The cabin was cozy and charming, with a rustic yet modern feel. Ewan carried your bags inside, setting them down in the master bedroom. You followed, taking in the warm, inviting decor.

"Thank you for this," you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "It's exactly what I needed."

He turned in your embrace, his arms encircling your waist. "Anything for you."

The two of you spent the evening relaxing by the fireplace, talking and laughing as you reminisced about your time on The Last Kingdom and the early days of your relationship. It was easy to forget about the pressures of filming and the outside world when you were with Ewan. He had a way of making you feel cherished and loved, no matter what.

As the night wore on, you found yourself curled up in his arms, feeling utterly content. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling with love.

"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked softly.

Ewan's expression grew thoughtful as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "All the time. Especially when it comes to us."

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you. "What do you see?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "I see us, happy and together. I see more getaways but always with each other. I see a life filled with love and laughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, feeling a profound sense of connection and understanding. "I see the same thing. I can't imagine my life without you." He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

The weekend passed in a blissful blur of lazy mornings, long walks, and intimate moments. You felt closer to Ewan than ever before, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing day. It was a reminder of why you had fallen in love with him in the first place, and why you knew you would always choose him, time and time again.

As you drove back to the city on Sunday evening, you felt a sense of calm and contentment settle over you. The weekend had been exactly what you needed, a chance to reconnect and recharge. You knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, as a team.

Ewan reached over and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for this weekend. It was perfect."

You squeezed his hand back, smiling at him. "No, thank you. For everything."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, feeling the truth of those words resonate deep within you.

A few days later, you and Ewan were scheduled for a joint interview to promote House of the Dragon. The two of you arrived at the studio, hands intertwined, your chemistry palpable. The interviewer, a seasoned journalist named Claire, greeted you warmly.

"Welcome, Ewan, and ___. It's great to have you here," Claire said, smiling brightly as she motioned for you to sit down.

"Thank you for having us," you replied, settling into the plush chair beside Ewan. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

The cameras rolled, and Claire began with the usual questions about the show, your characters, and the experience of working on such a high-profile project. You and Ewan answered with ease, your natural camaraderie shining through.

"There's been a lot of buzz about the chemistry between your characters on the show," Claire noted, leaning forward. "Do you think that has anything to do with your real-life relationship?"

You exchanged a quick glance with Ewan, both of you smiling. "I think it definitely helps," Ewan said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "We have a deep connection off-screen, and that translates into our performances."

You nodded in agreement. "It's easier to convey those intense emotions when you genuinely care about the person you're acting with. Plus, we trust each other completely, which makes taking risks in our scenes a lot easier."

Claire's eyes twinkled with interest. "Can you share any fun or memorable moments from the set?"

You laughed, recalling a particular incident. "Well, there was this one time during a battle scene where Ewan got so into character that he accidentally knocked over a prop tree. It was hilarious because he just stood there, looking so apologetic while everyone else was trying to stay in character."

Ewan chuckled, shaking his head. "I swear, that tree came out of nowhere."

The interview continued, with Claire asking more personal questions about your relationship. "How do you balance your professional and personal lives, especially when working together on such demanding projects?"

"It's all about communication and support," you explained. "We make sure to set aside time for ourselves, away from the set, to just relax and be a normal couple. And we always have each other's backs, no matter what."

Ewan nodded, his hand finding yours once more. "Exactly. It's not always easy, but it's worth it. We're each other's biggest fans and strongest support system."

Claire smiled, clearly charmed by your dynamic. "It's wonderful to see such a strong bond between you two. Lastly, what can fans expect from your characters in the upcoming episodes?"

You shared a knowing look with Ewan before answering. "Without giving too much away, I can say that there are some intense and emotional scenes coming up. Our characters face a lot of challenges, but they also have moments of deep connection and understanding. It's going to be a rollercoaster ride."

Ewan nodded in agreement. "Definitely. There are some twists and turns that will surprise everyone. It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for fans to see what's next."

As the interview wrapped up, Claire thanked you both for your time. "It's been a pleasure talking with you. Your chemistry is truly off the charts, both on and off-screen."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a warm flush of happiness. "It's been great chatting with you too."

Ewan leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "We'll see you at the premiere," he added with a grin.

As you left the studio hand in hand, you felt a sense of fulfillment. The interview had gone perfectly, showcasing not only your professional work but also the deep bond you shared. With Ewan by your side, both in your career and your personal life, you knew you could face anything that came your way.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #house targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchel x reader

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aheathen-conceivably · 4 months ago

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Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it.

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in.

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

#1934 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #Zelda Darlington #Antoine Duplanchier

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obsessedwithmitchell · 7 months ago

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HOMMINA HOMMINA HOMMINA

‼️NOT MY EDIT‼️

this man. THIS MAN. i swear.. he’s fine and he knows it- i swear.

edit of the dayyy (i’m sorry, ik i keep forgetting to post them everyday and i didn’t post one yesterday so i’ll post another to make up for it) 💋💋

#ben florian #ben thirst #don’t forget about ben #mitchell hope #mitchell thirst #don’t forget about mitchell hope #Mitchell

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shellshocklove · 2 years ago

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conversation | peter parker

pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader

summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.

warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4.1k

a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)

main masterlist / ao3

She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.

He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?

“Is this seat taken?”.

“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.

Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.

Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.

And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–

“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.

“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.

“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.

“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.

“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.

His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.

As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.

You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.

You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.

Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.

Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.

Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.

Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.

Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.

Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.

“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.

Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.

Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.

You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.

“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.

“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.

“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.

A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.

If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.

Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.

He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.

But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.

Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?

He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?

He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.

You no? i’m at home why?

Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room

Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?

You i’m coming over.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.

“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.

“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.

Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.

Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.

Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,

“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.

The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.

“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.

But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.

“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

“Ok” he repeated.

You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.

Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.

He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.

“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.

Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.

“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.

Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.

“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,

“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.

Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.

Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.

“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.

His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.

When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.

“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.

“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.

Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.

With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.

“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.

“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.

“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.

Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.

Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.

Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.

“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.

Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.

The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.

On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,

“I think I might be homeless”.

You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,

“I’m sorry”.

tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather, @luciwritesstuff, @userholland, @t-lostinworlds, @silkscream, @sparklingsin, @logangarfield, @justapurrcat, @tomdutch, @devotion, @lnmp89, @mayal0pez, @melodicheauxxo-writes,

...

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #spider man x reader #spider man #tom holland #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #spider man smut #spider man fanfiction #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #*writing

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 4 months ago

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EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED FOR THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER MAGAZINE.

THAT EPISODE IS GOING TO SATISFY SOME DRAGON-HUNGRY FANS. RHAENYS CERTAINLY MET HER DEMISE, BUT AEGON'S FATE WAS LEFT A LITTLE MORE VAGUE.

"It’s a seismic event that’s changed the future going forward with these characters."

"Aegon’s fate remains unknown."

"I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone."

"But going into episode five, you are going to see the fallout of Rook’s Rest, which I can’t wait for people to see."

"It’s a massive blow for Team Black."

"The line in the sand has been drawn, and Aemond just crossed that line."

"And there’s no going back. I’m sure there will be retaliation."

WHAT ARE AEMOND'S TRUE MOTIVATIONS IN THIS WAR? IF NOT LOYALTY, WHAT IS IT THAT'S DRIVING HIM?

"I think there are many things that are driving him, but one of them that I loved to play with and explore was this idea that he wants his mum."

"Every time I shared a scene with Olivia Cooke around the council table, every time I looked at Alicent Hightower, I very much imagined Aemond and Alicent sitting on a Dornish beach, far from war, sipping on piña coladas [...]"

"Aemond having become the war hero and managing to make his mum happy, in his eye, so to speak."

"Whether or not that’s Alicent’s version of happiness is another thing."

"But that’s how Aemond sees it. So I think that’s one of his is driving motivations."

"Also, what Alicent does in episode seven of season one, that’s something that Aemond doesn’t forget."

"When they’re all arguing about where Aemond had heard this illegitimate [child of Harwin] Strong [rumor] from, Alicent went back to the idea that this kid had been physically damaged and changed for life."

"She was the only voice that was backing him up in that moment."

WHO DOES AEMOND BELIEVE BELONGS ON THE IRON THRONE?

"You don’t necessarily know what is going on behind Aemond’s eye."

"He’s a very calculative person."

"He’s not just your one-dimensional black cat and mindless sociopath kind of character."

"He is thinking at all times."

"You see that in the first four episodes — in so much of them he operates from the peripheries."

"But, does he even want the throne? (Shrugs)"

HAS HE FALLEN VICTIM TO THE "HEIR AND THE SPARE" RESENTMENT, LIKE DAEMON?

"He feels that Aegon lacks the perseverance to be king."

"Aegon says it himself: He has no wish to rule."

"Whereas Aemond, he’s been studying with the masters."

"He’s been training with the sword, so he very much feels like he would make a worthier king, whether or not that’s what Aemond wants."

DOES DAEMON SEE HIMSELF IN AEMOND?

"That’s a good question."

"I don’t know if I could answer it."

"Maybe it’s one for Matt [Smith, who plays Daemon]"

"But I think a part of Aemond would wish that Daemon saw Aemond in himself."

"There’s so much of his image that lends itself to that idea that Aemond is very much paying homage to a young Daemon Targaryen, with the Targaryen black and the long hair."

"It’s very reminiscent of the rogue prince. Aemond being Daemon’s biggest stan, he would definitely want to live in Daemon’s head rent-free."

DO YOU THINK SEEING AEMOND IN A MORE VULNERABLE LIGHT SOMEHOW MAKES HIM MORE FRIGHTENING? IT'S LIKE THE PERSONAL VENDETTA — WHETHER IT'S AGAINST HIS BROTHER AEGON, RHAENYRA OR ANYONE ELSE — BECOMES A LITTLE SHARPER.

"I very much wanted to portray the image of someone who had manufactured their body into a lethal weapon."

"This kid doesn’t need armor. He doesn’t need to be brandishing a Valyrian steel sword to appear like he could ultimately end those characters’ lives in those moments."

"There’s something powerful in that regard. Me and Geeta Patel, we always talked about the possibility, up to that scene, of maybe Aemond wrapping a blanket around himself as he was leaving, or maybe using his hands to cover himself as he was leaving."

"But we were very-like minded in the respect that this is a character who does not care what you think about him."

"And that carelessness, it’s quite scary."

"Talking about that code coming into place, he cannot be seen as weak at all costs."

"Love in Aemond’s world is seen as a weakness."

"And so he has to put duty above that."

"He puts strength above that."

WOULD AEMOND BE IN THE SAME DANGER THAT HE IS WITHOUT VHAGAR?

"Probably not."

"He recognizes that he’s a young man who possesses a power that no one else has in Vhagar."

"He can do things that no one else can do, and she very much shapes the dynamic of any room that he walks into."

"He doesn’t need to be anything, because her shadow looms so large behind him."

"And so if he’s being threatening, it’s not because he needs to be — it’s because he wants to be."

IS IT WEIRD TO SEE SO MANY FANS CRUSHINT ON YOUR CHARACTER? THEY HAVE BEEN DEBATING WHO IS MORE 'BABYGIRL': DAEMON OR AEMOND.

"I haven’t got social media, so I don’t see it. But one of the results of not having social media is that it produces these beautiful, badass, fun letters from people from all across the globe."

"To read that, I take it all as motivation, whether we’ve had a good reaction or a negative reaction."

"I never take it for granted."

"But is Aemond babygirl? I don’t know."

"It’s a dilemma. What’s the definition of a babygirl?"

I THINK IT'S AN ATTRACTIVE CHARACTER THAT PEOPLE TAKE PITY ON A LITTLE BIT. SENSIBLE, A BIT VULNERABLE. MAYBE THEY THINK HIS HEART'S IN THE RIGHT PLACE.

"Like maybe there is good underneath it all."

"I’ll take the compliment."

WHAT'S TO COME FROM AEMOND THIS SEASON?

"I don’t want to spoil it, but it’s going to be good."

WOULD YOU SWITCH TO TEAM BLACK?

"No, no — I’d want to stay on Team Green."

WHAT'S TO COME FROM EWAN MITCHELL? HAVE YOU GOT ANYTHING IN THE PIPELINE THAT YOU'RE EXCITED ABOUT?

"Nothing is set in stone yet."

"I’m down to the last few for something that I really want and I’m not going to say what it is because as soon as I do, I won’t get it."

"[I’m up for] any challenge, any character."

"I love horror, horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into."

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honkytonk-hangman · 2 years ago

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How It's Done (1/2)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: This is part one of a two-parter, the next will be mostly smut lmao. Thank you for reading! I would love any feedback or comments and dont forget to reblog if you feel so inclined!!!

Masterlist

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you.

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

---

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

---

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

—

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

---

Jake’s appearance in the women’s locker room should startle you more than it does. As it stands, you barely even bat an eyelash when you spot him all of a sudden in the mirror behind you, like he was enacting some sort of horror movie jumpscare. It doesn’t really have that effect on you though, his presence nowadays is both common enough and exciting enough that he holds your rapt attention whenever he’s around.

In the mirror behind you, he stands at a casual lean against the row of locker doors, making sure to face you, but also making sure he has the opportunity to rifle through your locker, get a good look at the things you kept in there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding less scolding and more genuinely curious, which is a point against you as far as you’re concerned. You turn from the mirror and move back toward your locker, replacing the small toiletries bag you kept with you inside. Jake doesn’t move a muscle, standing exactly in the same position, which meant that now he was practically leaning over you, crowding your space in that way he did sometimes just to make you flustered.

You were long past the point of it really working though, now you revelled in it just as much as he seemed to, eager for any small moment where you had an excuse to be so close to him. Especially at work.

You blink up at him doe-ishly, finding his gaze exactly where you expected it to be, which is trained on your face. His signature smirk grows slightly as he meets your eye, and your stomach explodes in a flurry of butterflies and fireworks at the way he seems to either consciously or subconsciously lean even further in toward you, completely dwarfing you now. It makes you feel small in the best way possible, and you have to actively work to put aside the thoughts of his big hands at your waist, and other such things that make your legs go all wobbly.

“Say, you don’t happen to have any plans for the fourteenth, do you?” Jake ignores your question entirely, but you’re not bothered by it, too caught up now on his own query.

“The fourteenth?” you ask, a little dumbly, racking your mind for something you may have forgotten, which you know is the correct course of action thanks to the amusement currently playing out on his very handsome features.

“Valentine’s Day?” Jake supplies for you eventually, putting you out of one misery and into another.

“You want to do something on Valentine’s Day?” you’re not sure which part of his suggestion you’re not getting, but you do know that something isn’t quite clicking. Jake’s features soften only slightly, and he bends his face even closer to yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before back to your eyes.

“Mhmm. If my girlfriend is alright with that?” Jake practically purrs the words, and they reverberate down your spine, making you blink rapidly.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him call you that, although you do note that he definitely shouldn't be doing it at work, considering none of your friends and colleagues know about the two of you yet.

“Y-yes, she is fine with that…” you reply, doing your best not to sound as lovesick as you felt. Jake lifts an eyebrow and turns his body in toward you even more, almost bringing your chests to touch now.

“Just ‘fine’? Sweetheart, I am hoping to get more of a reaction than that,” he again makes a show of trailing his eyes up and down your face, and you feel yourself swallow thickly.

“After all,” Jake continues, lifting an arm now to rest against the locker above your head, actually crowding your space now. “I believe we had a discussion about exactly how Valentine’s Day would play out, around… four weeks ago?” Jake makes a humming noise, as if he himself didn’t remember clearly, despite everything else about his delivery saying otherwise.

Your lips part ever so slightly as you recall the conversation he’s referring to, a heat crackling over your skin when you realise that, despite you not remembering it until now, this had clearly been something Jake was looking forward to.

You definitely were too, now.

“Thank you, Jake… tonight was really great,” you cringe a little at how scripted the words sound, but when you look up at where Jake stands just behind you, waiting for you to slot your key into your door, he’s only gazing down at you in a way that makes you immediately drop them. The sound makes you jump and turn away, but before you can clumsily begin apologising and scooping them up, Jake takes a slight step forward, never breaking your eye contact even as he swipes your fallen keys from your feet.

He’s right in front of you now, still slightly bowed over so that his face hovers right in front of yours as if by accident, though you know it's anything but. You can’t even bring yourself to move, as much as these dates had you a little off-kilter still, you couldn't deny the fact that your feelings for the man in front of you had been increasing exponentially, in a way that was becoming harder and harder to physically hold back from.

You don’t even mean to, but your eyes drop to his lips for several beats, transfixed until you force yourself to look away again. You part your own lips, getting ready to say something, anything, but Jake sees your wandering gaze for what it is, and doesn’t let you ruin the moment.

Instead, Jake surges forward, the hand not holding your keys moving to cup the side of your face, and at the same time, stands to his full height once more, the space previously still left between you now completely nonexistent as you find yourself pushed up against your door.

You’ve had relationships in the past, but you had never, ever, been kissed like this before, all heat and fire and what you can only describe as desire. However, as that thought sets in, you find that oddly, it doesn’t fluster you like you think it should, or would have. In fact, for the first time in a really long time, you don't feel any of your normal anxieties or nerves. Everything is replaced by the knowledge that Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is currently pressing his body against yours, his hands carefully starting to roam a little and how much you want everything that that strong grip of his promises.

Unfortunately, that's when the one useful anxiety you have left returns to you, and just as always, you can’t bring yourself to ignore it like you so badly wish you could.

It takes only a slight push against Jake’s chest for him to pull away from you, though it's as though he can’t bring himself to go far at all. He stares down at you, lips kiss-swollen and his face so close still that you swear if he blinks, you’ll feel his lashes brush your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice is incredibly gravely and rough and the sound of it alone is almost enough to push you back in toward him.

“I’m sorry– I just–” the rising panic in your voice makes Jake shift again, though he still doesn’t detach himself from you entirely, he does move his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“We– We work together, and I don’t do this often–ever, actually, and I just don’t want to get into something where we can’t come back from, because I’m actually really starting to like you, a lot, and I know this is a thing normal people totally do all the time– sleep together I mean– but you’re just so– and I’m– and I–”

“Hey, it’s alright, calm down,” Jake’s stern ‘work’ voice startles you a bit, but just like always, he seems to know exactly what it is you need. You blink up at him, realising you’re clinging tightly to his forearms, and he’s looking down at you with so much concern and care you could almost just start crying.

“It’s alright, Miri,” Jake continues after a moment, lifting one hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek again. You stare at him, your brows furrowing into a frown.

“Alright? You’re not– you don’t mind that I don’t want to sleep with you?”

Jake’s lips quirk, and he rolls his eyes a little.

“Miri, the only thing I want more than to take you inside and continue this with far less clothing, is for you to want that too. So, no, I don’t mind.”

You keep staring up at him, unsure of how to proceed now, but once again, Jake swoops in.

“You want to give it time?” he asks, earning a nod from you, but you suddenly feel the need to reassure him of your own affections.

“Just to be clear, this isn’t me not wanting to have sex with you!” you state quickly, earning a somewhat confused frown from the man still cupping your cheek. “I mean, I do, that’s not an issue, my problem is specifically just… rushing into this, when we work together. Our jobs are so high-stress as it is, I just think it would be better to… I’m not sure, ease into it I guess…”

You’re glad you made a point of explaining yourself, because Jake’s face flashes with brief understanding, and his approach seems to switch tact.

“Well…” he clears his throat. “That’s still alright, but it does make it a whole lot harder to resist, I have to tell you,” you know he’s only half serious, but the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your porch sends your insides twisting and curling.

“So… when do you think it will stop being ‘too soon’?” Jake asks lightly, but you do think it’s an entirely fair question given that you are asking him to wait for you.

“A few weeks? I’m not sure, I just…” you trail off, but watch as Jake appears to do some mental maths, and then his face lights up, his grin pulling his lips in a rather distracting way.

“Valentine's Day?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Before you can verbally agree, his mood seems to shift, and he’s leaning in a little closer again, lowering his voice. “I’ll take you out, real fancy, suit and tie dress code, you’ll get to wear something slinky and I’ll pretend the way I keep touching you is an accident all night.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Jake crowds in closer to you as he speaks, looking over you as if the things he’s describing were visible to him right now.

“Then, I’ll take you back to mine, maybe I’ll be presumptuous and buy you some lacy little underthings to wear for me, and–” He seems to snap out of the intensity all of a sudden, smirking down at you and cocking his head at your dazed and almost drooling expression.

“Well, the rest is a secret, but for now, let's just pencil all that in, hmn?”

“S-so, what did you have planned?” you bite your lip a little and reach past him to grab a scrunchie from your locker, but before you can slip it onto your wrist, Jake takes it off of your and begins combing your hair back himself. You stand and watch him dumbly as he does, already blanking out when his fingers seem to tighten ever so slightly as he gathers a ponytail at the base of your neck, and tugs.

You almost let out a pitiful little sound at the feeling, but unfortunately you aren’t able to control the fluttering of your eyes the same way. Jake smirks above you as he slips the scrunchie off his wrist and secures your hair into a somewhat regulation bun, all the while still grinning down at you. You want to tell him to screw valentines day and screw you now, but you manage to keep your mouth shut long enough for him to answer your question.

“I’ve already told you too much. Just be ready by seven. Wear something slinky for me, yeah?” he murmurs, letting his hands fall from the back of your head to your waist where he pulls you in.

“Alright,” you confirm, mind already wandering to what on earth you had in your closet right now that would fit the bill of ‘slinky’ and deciding that you were probably going to have to go shopping.

“Don’t worry about the lacy things,” Jake says softly, lips now ghosting over yours as he speaks, though he hasn’t broken your eye contact once yet. “I’ve already got that covered.” He says, making you go blank again.

The thought, no, the mere idea that Jake has bought you lingerie to wear, and that he wanted to see you in it, makes you want to vibrate right out of the room, and possibly several times around the planet, but you manage to resist, and instead just swallow heavily, and nod.

Jake grins wide, no longer smirking cheekily, his smile is nothing but warmth now, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Great,” he says, giving your waist a squeeze, and you a tiny peck on the lips before he pulls away. “Now, I gotta get outta here before I get court-martialed.”

You snort as he spins on his heel and heads toward the door, but turns back and gives you a lazy salute and wink before he leaves.

When you’re certain that he’s gone, you let out a sigh and fall back against your locker, your heart thumping wildly along in your chest as you mull over your upcoming plans. The thought of shopping enters your mind once again, and you hum to yourself. Reaching for your throne, you shoot off a text to your group chat with Phoenix and Halo, and hope they won’t ask too many questions about your Valentine’s plans.

#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin

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chiefdirector · 2 years ago

Note

Could I request a Luke Dunphy x reader fic? Something cute and simple like they have been together for a while and while at a family barbecue luke and her are talking about the future (thinking they are alone) and the rest of the family hears? Just a whole lot of fluff please 🤧

Future | Luke Dunphy | Modern Family

“So let me get this right…” Luke said, bumping his shoulder into yours. “You want two - no three - dogs and a white picket fence?”

“Don’t forget the wildflowers in the front yard.”

He laughed, glancing over to his family from the porch. “Oh how could I forget. Can you ever forgive me?"

She hummed. "I'll think about it."

----

"They're good together." Clair said, leaning over to whisper to Mitchell. "I remember being like that with Phil."

"Was this before or after you got pregnant with Hayley?" He snarked back.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that he's happy - and she's happy - therefore we should be happy for them."

Mitchell grabbed his glass and finished it off. "You think that they will last?"

"They better," Jay butted in, "If they last more than a year, I beat Gloria out in our bet."

Claire turned to him. "You bet on Luke's relationship, dad! How could you?"

He laughed, turning away before he looked back. "Phil put five bucks on them getting married.

Masterlist

#modern family x reader #modern family imagine #luke dunphy imagine #luke dunphy x reader #luke dunphy #claire dunphy #mitchell pritchett #jay pritchett #modern family #chiefdirector

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worldofheroes · 10 months ago

Text

Home

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: maverick makes it home after the mission and has missed you.

warnings: 18+, set after TGM, mention of bruises, mention of death, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, age gap

wc: 815

a/n: based on this request. I absolutely love writing for older Mav 😍

You hear the front door open to your house.

He’s home.

You carefully make your way to the foyer to greet him. You find him with his back against the door, head resting against it with his eyes closed.

“Mav,” you breathe, relieved that he is home in one piece.

Maverick opens his eyes and looks at you, a small smile spreading on his face. “Hi sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself off the door.

You don’t say anything more, you just move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Pete,” you sigh into his body.

He kisses the top of your head. The two of you stand there for a minute, not saying anything.

“You’re home,” you say, breaking the silence.

“I am,” he sighs.

“How was the mission?”

He pulls away slightly, taking a long look at you.

“Pete?”

“You don’t understand how happy I am to see you,” he says, finally giving you a kiss.

“You should show me.”

You feel him smile against your lips. He starts to push you backwards down the hall to the bedroom, clothes being dropped along the way - his jacket, your shirt, his shirt… by the time you reach the bed, you’re in just your panties and he’s in his briefs.

You notice the bruises on his skin, and your fingertips softly glide over them.

“You took a beating,” you frown.

“Don’t worry about them,” he mumbles, kissing your neck.

“Mav,” you sigh, his kisses instantly making you melt beneath him.

Maverick gently pushes you onto the bed and he crawls over you.

“You really have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he murmurs as he kisses down your body.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask him.

He shakes his head. “I just want to forget about it right now.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

Maverick pushes your legs apart and starts to kiss your inner thigh. You throw your head back against the pillow, hips slightly bucking in anticipation.

“Easy,” he smiles against your skin.

He pulls your panties down and slots his mouth against you, eager to taste you again after a long month away.

“Pete!” you exclaim as pleasure fills your senses.

He hums against you, getting sloppy with his work, making obscene noises that just turn you on further.

“Fuck! Pete!” you exclaim again, grabbing at his hair as the pleasure overwhelming you.

Maverick takes notice and backs off. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

He crawls back over you, leaning down and kissing you, languidly. You sigh happily, running your hands through his hair.

Maverick works his briefs down as he kisses you, pumping himself through his fist.

“Y/n,” he breathes, lining himself up with your slit.

“Pete,” you say, studying his face.

His eyes dark with love, he pushes in you, making you throw your head back against the pillow and closing your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, kissing your neck.

“Fuck, Mav, you… you feel so good,” you manage to say as he rocks his hips against you.

“I’ve missed all of this,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he begins to go harder and faster.

“Pete, please,” you cry, feeling your orgasm build.

“That’s it,” he growls, thrusting into you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Fuck, Pete, right there,” you exclaim as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck,” Maverick groans, chasing his own orgasm.

You hold tightly onto Maverick as he finds his release, his warm cum coating your walls.

Maverick slows, shallowly thrusting now. He props himself up to look at you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, moving to lay down next to you.

“My baby,” you say, kissing his chest.

“I really thought I wasn’t going to make it back,” Maverick says, staring at the ceiling. “Then Rooster saved my life and thought we both weren’t gonna make it back.”

You don’t say anything, you just continue to pepper his body with kisses.

“If we had died… I don’t think I could’ve faced Goose. If we hadn’t made it back to the carrier…”

His voice cracks.

“Hey,” you say, moving so you can see his face. “You made it home, okay? You’re back with me. You’re safe. Rooster’s safe. I’m sure Goose is proud of both of you.”

You wipe Maverick’s tears away. He nods at your words.

“And I love you more than anything, for what it’s worth,” you add with a small smile.

“How did I get so lucky?” Maverick asks, pulling you down and kissing you. “Why did you agree to date an old man like me?”

“Mav,” you half-heartedly scold, lightly hitting his chest.

“I love you too, y/n,” Maverick says. “Thank you for being my home.”

“I would do anything for you, Pete.”

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagine #top gun x reader #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell imagine

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eliashirsch · 6 months ago

Text

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (4/3)

More Top Gun fic recs:)) Different pairings ahead.

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

4. Honorary Mentions (4/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Honorary Mentions

gold rush by gamerring @asimmutableasgravity

All his life, Jake Seresin has wanted to live his life as loud as possible. So that when he dies, people can place flowers on his casket. When the light hits him, sunbaked and smiling and grinning. He's whole and happy and everything he could ever want. He bites down on his teeth. Later, he hunches over the porcelain, petals falling out of his mouth, and is already one step in his grave. - Flowers, fighter pilots and the true fatality of your feelings spilling out.

Jake angst:)) And here’s another one from gamerring:

it's nice to have a friend by gamerring

"Will you marry me?" Ice is on his knees. His posture screams military, but his face is genuine. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry and a hesitant smile plays at his lips. The ring sits in a green velvet box. The band is gold and shiny, with a diamond inlaid in the middle. The rock seems to glow under the sunset, and Maverick's heart starts beating against his chest. This- it's spectacular. It's breathtaking. It's not for him. He bites his cheek for a microsecond, and then forces a smile."That's great. She can't say no to that." And a traitorous part of his soul hopes she does. - Three times Maverick should have said something, and the one time he did.

Just read the summary:) (This is canon.)

Lessons in pushing boundaries by will_thewisp

Maverick never needed lessons in pushing boundaries. Not if those boundaries are about going faster, further or screwing up on an ever increasing scale, because he'd run off the edge of the world before he'd let a thought that scared him shitless take root in his mind. It was enough that it was already in his heart. Or Maverick crashes the Darkstar and needs a very long time to learn that there's things that can and should be fixed. And that he's always had the tools to do it.

Don’t forget a tissue when reading this!

Amen by demiclar @demiclar

"What do you want done with your body when you die?" Pete Mitchell grieves his best friend.

Can you tell I love Mav angst?:)

Vanilla Milk by Specter_Ross

After the mission, Rooster is struggling to sleep so Maverick pulls some old methods out from when Bradley was a kid, in hopes of helping him.

I never get tired of reading MavDad and Bradley:)

A Perch Built for Two by chase_acow @cowsalot

Rooster is well known for keeping his own company, but between Maverick's reemergence and the suicide mission, Hangman manages to weasel his way into Bradley's attention. He's never let an alpha so close to him before, but Hangman might be the best choice - experienced and unlikely to ask for more than Bradley was willing to give. Unfortunately for him, it's Bradley who wants more, and he has no idea how to ask for it.

Another win for Hangster!

A Little Unconventional by McDanno50

Maverick didn’t know how he ended up here a month after the mission – on his back with his legs spread for not one, but two, hungry alphas. These alphas wanted Maverick so much that they no longer fought but worked together all in the name of mutual pleasure. It felt too good to be true, like a fevered dream conjured up by a broken mind. But even if he couldn’t believe his eyes, he had four other senses to rely on. A self-indulgent fic in which Omega!Maverick gets fucked by Alpha!Bradley and Alpha!Jake. That's literally it.

Mav/Bradley/Jake:)))))

Not Clamorous For Pardon by Arsenic @arsenicjade33

Okay, but what if the Navy didn't outlaw flogging as a punishment in 1896? Asking for a friend.

Another one of my favorite tropes: Mav being bullied by the Navy:(

still dangerous by cygnettine

Where was he? Jake was to his right, Bradley in front of him, the girls between their dads. Someone was missing. He was missing. Why was he missing? He was supposed to be there; that was a family dinner and he was family, he was his whole soul, why wasn’t he there? *** Maverick loses himself and wanders helplessly in his own mind until someone finally comes to his rescue.

Mav has Alzheimer's Disease:(

take a chance on the edge of life by Lacerta

It was a suicide mission. Of course they didn't succeed on their first try. - When Maverick dies, he loops back to the morning before.

An Edge of Tomorrow AU. Love this one.

you've got the win in your bag by discosleaze @paulmezcal

“I’m going to go in and get something pierced, and if you’re a good boy, it’ll be my nipple. If you’re not, it’ll be my tongue.” Speaking of tongues, Bradley just about swallows his. “Why would that be a bad thing?” he croaks out, not enjoying how amused Jake is, mocking, even. “Well, Bradshaw, because I wouldn’t be able to blow you for weeks afterwards.” Jake contemplates a second piercing, Bradley contemplates nothing.

asdfghfghjkjhgfdsadfg. This one’s too hot for me.

How Big? by thenofutureshoe

"Most people would have had to give themselves a pep-talk, most people would have been nervous or unsure of the whole thing, Maverick Mitchell was not most people. He was a fucking power bottom and proud of it. This was not his first rodeo, pun intended. And he always got his man." Once Maverick hears the story behind Slider's callsign, it sounds more like a challenge than anything else.

This one… I never thought their difference in size could be this hot…

a dream of crashing by thefireplanet

Maverick buys a plane. Somehow, this becomes Iceman’s problem.

THIS ONE’S NOT COMPLETED! But it’s still so fun to read and the characterization is spot on!

and the bunny goes 𝒽𝑜𝓅, 𝒽𝑜𝓅, 𝒽𝑜𝓅 by Meadow_Wanderer

Contrary to expectation, he rarely measures time by the number of years he's lived without his father. Instead, he appraises in happenings. Every birthday, school graduation, and precious firsts; every milestone passing as the memory of his father becomes fainter and fainter until finally he reaches the last occasion where the end and the beginning meet, the son and the sire a breath's width apart, like reaching to touch one's reflection in the mirror. The very same one he'll face in just shy of a few hours.

Weird and fun!

you are not alone (i watch over you) by redwithlove

“Bradley, do you remember the time when you were eight and you wouldn't let me near your Pops for two days?” “What, really? Why?” “Yeah, for two whole days, can you believe it? And it all started over a can of Pringles.” Or—Bradley with Ice and Maverick over the years.

Mav and Ice and Bradley being family:) My favorite genre of topgun fics:))

PHEW! That's all the fics I've got! Thanks for reading until the end! Don't forget to leave a comment on these fics if you enjoyed them!

Here's my google doc for all four categories! >> God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions: A Masterlist

#as always if you know these authors' tumblrs feel free to tag them!#and tell me if i tagged the wrong person or put the wrong link:')#this was a fun journey and i was reminded of how much fun i had reading all of these!#i hope y'all enjoyed my yapping:)#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #top gun #hangster #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #fanfic rec #top gun fic recs #fanfiction recommendation

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marrycv · 6 months ago

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And maybe you’re the love of my life.

summary : you’re at the beach with ellie.

fluff, agnst

The sound of the waves comforted you. the sound of of the wind hitting on the grass, making the silence beautiful enough to not feel lonely. the sun piercing its ray on your skin. feeling the warmth making you feel like you were in a dream. the comfort, the warmth, it all felt like home. you felt so safe.

and she knew how you felt at the ocean.

she knew it was your happiness.

so she took you there.

You were the happiest girl in the world

“isn’t it beautiful baby?” Ellie asked you

“Ellie! this- i don’t even have the words to express you how much i love you right now!”

Ellie smiled at you. her eyes almost closed due to how wide it was. she was smiling because of your love for the sound of the waves, for the beautiful colours drew in the sky like it was a piece of forgotten art.

she took your hand

you followed her

and you and Ellie swimming in the cold ocean was just as pretty as when you were home

she was your home.

you could see the way she looked at you, like you were the only person that mattered.

you felt the love coming from her expressions, her touch, her words.

your world was Ellie.

whenever your hair was on your face, she would put it behind your ears, looking at the colour of your eyes, thinking about your lips on hers, seeing every single details about you- needing to feel you on her skin.

the laughs were like the memories of you and your parents playing a game together, echoing into your mind into an infinite void of empty memories. that you could remember it, and feel it, and wish you could revive it.

all over again.

the feeling of her laugh as the radiation of her sound into your brain was mesmerizing, couldnt look away from how she sounded.

couldnt turn away from her love

couldnt turn away from the sound of the waves mixed with your and her laugh.

“you’re beautiful”

the redness pigmented on your cheeks as you couldnt help but smile, like an idiot.

why was being in love so embarrassing?

it didnt even matter.

maybe ellie was the love of your life.

maybe you were only a dreamer.

maybe even you talked all night, about everything and nothing, everything was an endless loop.

an endless loop about feeling embarrassed to fall in love again with her.

because the day you went on the beach, the day you were the happiest, the day you wore your most beautiful dress, the day she told you she’d met you that day- to repeat it all again

you saw her dancing on the hot sand with another girl

you saw her looking at that girl the same way she looked at you.

idiot

maybe she felt like home, but it wasnt homely.

going in circles again, your lungs screaming of the search of air.

or maybe nothing even happened.

maybe you were just in love, and she didn’t know you.

but it hurts

hurts so bad

you felt betrayed

but she wasnt yours.

she still could feel like the warmth of the sun during the month of july?

could she?

maybe she was the love of your life, but you weren’t hers.

at the end of the day, the only thing she wouldve seen was you screaming like you saw a ghost, looking at her and the girl, their dances breaking down.

can we pretend its easy?

The next thing you knew, Ellie was right in front of you.

“are you okay?” she asked with genuine concern

your tears were blurring your vision, your lack of air was making your heart beat as fast if you wouldve been running for her love. in a way you did tho

this time.

hear me.

“hi,”

how could you talk to the love of your life who betrayed you without even knowing it?

“i know this is random, but it feels like i know you..” she’d say, staring at your puffy eyes, sticky lashes, red cheeks.

does she remembers your dreams?

“we dont.. know eachothers.”

“but i do recognize your face”

holding eye contact enough to make you forget about the painful sharp knife that was stabbed into your back when you saw her dancing with this way more beautiful girl, looking like an angel sent from heaven. how could you have her?

how could she even be here, comforting you, when she had this dream right next to her, when you were the nightmare?

the circle would just repeat itself

“save me.”

pretend its easy, please.

you needed her as much as you needed love, as much as you needed the sound of the waves relaxing all of your muscles until you fall asleep due to the feeling of being safe. of being comforted like the hug of your mom for your first heartbreak. like the warmth the sun was giving you to make you close your eyes and think about how your dad used to always be warm whenever you hugged him. it felt so good being close to him, for the few times you experienced it, you could never forget the need of his warmth or the comfort of your mom

and you find it in ellie’s presence.

but like your parents, they dont last forever.

she didnt know you, but she was comfort for you like the waves and like the sun and as much as you find it all into your younger self getting to sleep as your mom gives a kiss on your forehead.

her eyes reminded you of the forest

her mouth reminded you of strawberries

her laugh reminded you of birds chirping

her smile reminded you of love

her skin reminded you of the feeling of the sand on your feet

her scent reminded you of when you smell to your old perfume and all the memories flashes into your soul

her fingers reminded you of the roughness of a tree on the exterior and the beauty inside of them, so delicate, so fragile… call it the nature’s art.

her personality reminded you of the mystery of the universe.

she was a dream, and she remembered you at the beach screaming for her love and comfort.

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie fanfic #tlou fanfiction #wlw post #ellie x reader #ellie x you #angst #fluff #wlw fluff #Spotify

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2rats1gogh · 7 months ago

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although i REALLY like the cast of HotD I can’t help but criticize the fact that they all are a little off for their canonical ages.

And it creates A LOT of problems.

Whenever I look at Olivia as Alicent my brain just cannot comprehend the fact that she is supposed to be the mother of Aegon, Aemond and Helaena. She looks like their older sister. I get that they were trying to go for the effect that “she was too young when she had her children” which is valid but still, she looks five years older than them at best. She is supposed to be almost 20 YEARS older than Aemond, yet in some shots of them together he looks like he’s older than her. It just makes it not really believable.

Rhaenyra is also supposed to be much much older than her siblings, yet they all also look just like three years apart. They don’t look like a woman in her mid to late thirties fighting with a man in his early twenties which is what it should’ve been. It takes away the drama and puts them on the same level.

Ewan Mitchell is amazing as Aemond but he looks so so much older than the actor who plays Luke. During Storm’s End, like many people have said, it actually looks like a grown ass man chasing a small kid, when the characters are supposed to be like four to five years apart. Where Luke is believable as a 14 year old, Aemond absolutely does NOT look 19.

Rhaenyra and Daemon also look fairly the same age because obviously there was no Daemon recast. They did a good job to make Paddy (Viserys) age throughout the years, but they kinda forgot to make Daemon age as well. And therefore Matt Smith looks the exact same in ep 1 and in ep 10, even tho these two episodes are like AT LEAST 20 years apart?? Matt Smith was in his early forties when they were filming, but by the end of season 1 Daemon is literally supposed to be in his mid to late fifties. The fact that Emma and Matt look around the same age, maybe having a 5 year age gap max, makes many people forget that they are two fully different generations of people, being around 20 years apart in the show, and hypothetically could’ve been father and daughter.

And obviously Laena. Other people have already talked about this, but I also find it super weird that the show tried to convince us that Laena went from (1) to (2) in like, i don’t know, two years maybe? And then after a timeskip of only like one decade, she suddenly looks like she aged 20 years? The actress is literally older than Emma, and Laena is supposed to be younger than Rhaenyra.

It just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t really have a problem with changing some of the characters’ ages, but you have to consider casting the right actors as well. They did a fairly good job when adapting Game of Thrones, because they kinda aged up everyone and kept the same actors without having any timeskips. The only exceptions are probably characters like Brienne, because although I LOVE Gwendoline Christie, Brienne should’ve been a literal teenager.

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #pro team green #anti team black #anti team black stans #hotd analysis #hotd critical #asoiaf #fire and blood #house targaryen

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months ago

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4000 Follower Celebration: Cufflinks -Mitch Ripley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee

Trigger Warnings

Hitting the 'And what if I don't accept it? Will you scream at me? Hit me? Again?' Square on the bingo card.

It’s the wedding that prompts Mitch’s mother to try to insert herself into his life again. He doesn’t know how she hears about it, only that she spends the next couple of days blowing up his phone. He ignores it the same way he has every other time because he doesn’t want his mother to ruin all the good things he has in his life.

It’s a couple of days before the event that she manages to track him down. He’s sitting in the café at the hospital going over the final revision of his speech when she drops down into the seat across from him. His breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding a little harder in his chest. Just being in her presence drags up all of those memories, the ones he’s spent years trying to forget.

“I wanted to give you this, it’s a wedding gift.” She tells, setting down a small box in front of him. He stares down at it frozen, unable to move a single muscle. She scowls then, opening it herself. It’s a pair of cufflinks, the tag from the pawnshop still attached.

It takes him back a couple of decades, to the last time he was in his mother’s custody. He’d been eleven years old when she’d forced him to break into a house in Forest Glen with her, he’d pawned a set of gold cufflinks the next day to pay for food. Only his mom had come back from the store with a couple of bags of meth and box of booze. She’d had a party later that night, got Mitch a little drunk.

“Don’t worry baby.” She had told him as she poured vodka down his throat. “It’ll make it easier.”

It was the first time she sold him to her dealer. He still can’t look at a bottle of vodka without his skin feeling like it wants to crawl right off his bones.

“I don’t want it.” Mitch rasps back in the present, shoving the cufflinks away from him. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Mitchell.” She chides, pushing them back in his direction. “Take them.”

It’s another echo, a man’s heavy breath in his ear as he’s held down, face pressed so hard into his pillow that he almost suffocates.

Take it like a man.

“What if I don't accept it?” He asks her, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You’ll scream at me? Hit me? Sell me?”

“Why can’t you ever just be grateful?” She snaps at him, gesturing at the cufflinks. “I came here with a gift…”

“Grateful.” He repeats, the word tastes acidic on his tongue. “I’m supposed to be grateful that you sold my virginity to your dealer and his buddies? That it’s taken until my late thirties to actually form a healthy relationship because before that I was incapable. I’m supposed to be grateful for that? I’m supposed to thank you for it?”

His eyes are fucking stinging as he raises to his feet, clasping his tablet to his chest. He knows he’s on the fringes of a panic attack, his chest heaves, his throat constricts. His head starts spinning as the edges of his vision turn black.

It’s Sean Archer that intervenes, that grasps his arm and guides him towards the sensory room they use for kids who are neurodivergent. He closes the door, shutting out Mitch’s mom as Mitch drops into a chair, his trembling hands covering his face. He’s so bitterly ashamed right now, it leaves him feeling hollow and vacant as Sean kneels in front of him. There’s a calmness in the other man that he finds grounding, it anchors him in the moment, bringing him back to himself as they work through the breathing exercises together.

In for five, hold for five, out for five.

His hands stop shaking, his nerves began to settle.

“It happened to me too, at Sea Cadets.” Sean says quietly into the space in between them. “It’s why I went off the rails, became an addict. My dad doesn’t know. It was his idea for me to go, a way of following in his footsteps. He didn’t understand when I wanted to quit…”

Mitch understands what he’s not saying. Sean can never tell Dean about what happened to him. It’s always been the crux between the two of them because on some level Sean blamed his father for making him go back to that place week after week. It’s only through therapy that Sean’s learned to let go of all of that, that he’s managed to regain a relationship with his father again.

“I can’t forgive her.” Mitch tells Sean as he looks away. “I can’t have her at the wedding, my past and present colliding like that, I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to.” Sean reassures him, his palm coming to rest on his friend’s shoulder. “Do you want me to call Marley?”

“No.” Mitch says quietly, running his hands through his hair. ��She’s on shift and I’m not…”

He trails off and Sean gets it. He’s not ready to talk about what happened to him back then. It had taken Sean a long time to trust someone else with that information, there had been some triggers when it came to sex, things he’d had to explain to his partner.

“Alright.” Sean says softly before he pulls out his phone and holds it out to Mitch. “Wanna read through my best man speech? Tell me which embarrassing stories I can’t tell.”

“Yea.” Mitch says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile for the first time since this whole ordeal started. “Yea Sean, I do.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#sean archer #mitch ripley #mitch ripley x reader #mitchell ripley #mitchell ripley x reader #chicago med #one chicago

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tgmsunmontue · 10 days ago

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Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 10/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN

Jake is so glad that he’s not in any of this alone. Sure it was all exciting and new, but it has suddenly become very fucking real and he doesn’t like the looks that some of the brass are giving him, it makes his skin crawl and he edges closer to Bradley and Maverick just slightly, knowing that there is strength in numbers. The fact that he has somehow stumbled into this weird family and all these other Transformers gives him hope that he’s not going to suddenly mysteriously go missing, or die in action; leaving his parents left to wonder exactly what happened. Actually, thinking about his parents he should probably touch base with them, because sending messages aren’t going to cut it three days in a row, not when he’s on leave.

He focusses back in on the conversation and realizes that Admiral Cain is spitting mad about something, his face almost purple, and he can’t even tell if it’s something Maverick or Admiral Kazansky said, because Captain Mitchell is smirking and Admiral Kazansky is looking cooly impassive. Fuck Jake wants to be like them, either of them.

“We’re the same rank,” Cain spits out.

“And yet you’re not the one with a house or hangar filled with Transformers, so I think that gives us the edge regardless of rank, hmm?” Admiral Kazansky states calmly, and god the man must have balls of titanium. Jake had already admired the theoretical idea of Admiral Kazansky, his rise through the ranks and dedication to remaining an active pilot for as long as possible. Now though? Knowing he’s done it while also hiding his relationship with none other than Maverick Mitchell, and is clearly unafraid of standing up to the brass or his own peers. Jake will trust him and his leadership, and not only because he also suspects that his fatherly love of Bradley means that protection reaches and envelopes Jake by default. The wave of relief he’d had moments ago returns ten-fold.

“Stop being difficult Cain, or you can step back. Kazansky has a valid point. Now, let us go and meet these Transformers.”

They walk to the hangar where Bronco and Hound are, and he glances around at the other vehicles. None of them seem to also be Transformers, although he wouldn’t bet any money on the fact either way. Bronco and Hound are in their robot states, chatting what he assumes is meant to be quietly, although Hound doesn’t seem to have much of a volume control. He reminds Jake of his grandpa, with the hearing aids he forgets to turn on. There’s a general conversation about how everyone is travelling, until once again Cain looks horrified at the idea of travelling inside a Transformer. Bradley is clearly trying not to laugh outright, his face schooled, but Captain Mitchell clearly looks like he wishes he had Ninja to just jump on.

… … …

“No! I don’t want to travel inside it!”

“What’s wrong with going with me?” Hound asks, his weird moustache trembling and jangling, and he sounds insulted.

“I’ll go with Hound. You can drive Ice’s car. I mean Admiral Kazansky’s,” Mav amends and Bradley can tell he’s trying not to laugh outright.

“It’s definitely a car right?”

“As far as we can figure out. We can simply pop into existence though,” Bronco states, head tilted to one side and Bradley knows that’s a bunch of bullshit, at least he thinks it is. He has no idea about the procreative habits of Transformers. However Dustdrift had just confirmed that Ice’s car was a simply mundane vehicle j that morning, so he knows Bronco is just being a bit of a shit-stirrer. He can appreciate that, especially with regards to Admiral Cain so he simply nods and looks considering, like he knows exactly what Bronco is referring to.

Bronco and Hound both transform to the vehicle states and he doesn’t think he will ever get sick of seeing that. Because there are so many humans now they have to take some of the other staff vehicles, as well as Ice’s car. The Secretary of State with his own car and driver, has invited Ice and Mav to go with him, which leaves him with Bronco and a couple of admirals he doesn’t really know.

“I’ll drive lieutenant,” one of them says, holding his hand out for the keys and Bradley nods, sucks his lips into his mouth and knows this isn’t going to end well.

“Uh. That… Bronco can be a little… selective, sir,” Bradley states, trying to find a word that suits but also won’t insult Bronco. Because Bradley’s yelled a few choice words at him over the years. Then again, Bronco has thrown a fair few back, but usually through the music.

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t usually drive anywhere unless it’s me in the driver seat sir.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“That may be the case sir, but it’s often just how it is. Bronco won’t even start for Mav, uh, Captain Mitchell. Sir.”

The man’s eyes narrow and Bradley shrugs helplessly, completely unsurprised when Bronco refuses to start. He’s not going to apologize, just gives a tight smile and accepts the keys back when they’re slapped into his hand with more force than necessary. He slides into the driver’s seat, doesn’t bother with the keys and just pats the dash a couple of times.

“Take us back to the hangar I guess buddy…”

“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong…” Bronco plays through his radio and Bradley lets out a sigh.

He guesses it is home once again.

… … …

He’s not quite prepared for the push out of the car, but he’s not as shocked or surprised as the Admiral who chose to rise with him in Hound. Hound had been grumbling almost the entire way, and something sets him off enough to start transforming as they hit the edge of the runway near the hangar and while he staggers a little the admiral with him falls into the rocks and dust and Jake reaches a hand to help him up.

“You okay sir?”

“Of course. Is that… standard?”

“Uh. No. I expect something has set him off…” Jake starts, and he glances around before raising his eyes to the sky. “Oh for… goodness sake.”

“What?”

“That’s Starscream sir…” Jake says, pointing up, because he’s familiar enough with the size and shape or the flying and robot forms to be able to recognize him easily now. And the fact he’s up there flying around is probably what has Hound all annoyed.

“Your one.”

“No. He doesn’t belong to anyone. None of them do sir. They might agree to assist with us with some jobs, but they’re not… subservient.”

“I don’t need to ask my microwave its permission before I reheat my dinner.”

“Your microwave isn’t part of an alien race sir. That you know of, anyway.”

He looks a little taken aback at that thought and Jake’s glad, because he’s certain that one of the Transformers in Captain Mitchell’s collection is indeed a microwave, and he’d love to see it burn everything to a crisp if it was misused or disrespected in any way. They start the long walk down the runway toward the hangar and Jake wonders if he needs to make polite conversation, can’t help but feel a sense of relief when he sees Starscream get lower and closer and then he’s landing and transforming in one smooth movement and Jake doesn’t know his expressions well, but he thinks Starscream looks pleased to see him.

“Jake! You’re back!”

“Yeah. You enjoy the flying?”

“Sally said I wasn’t allowed to go far. Something about humans getting scared… I don’t understand why. There are plenty of planes in the sky.”

“Uh, it’s more about the other planes,” Jake starts to explain, wondering just how much detail he needs to go into. Admiral Courtney is clearly listening and watching the interaction with a keen eye and Jake wonders if he should introduce them first.

“Uh, Starscream, this is Admiral Courtney. Admiral Courtney, this is my friend Starscream,” Jake supplies, settling on friend for lack of any other word or term that might fit the situation, and Starscream definitely looks pleased now.

“So uh, it’s not about the planes seeing you, or the humans seeing you, it’s more about the fact they’re not expecting you to be there…”

“No one sees me!”

“What about the other planes?”

“They don’t have eyes!”

“The people in the planes…”

“They can’t tell there is no one flying me!”

Jake bites back a grin.

“Starscream, it’s not about them seeing you. Human pilots talk to a series of towers that manage air traffic. You’d have been an aircraft on no one’s radar and it would freaked the pilots out when you were just suddenly there. They didn’t know you weren’t going to crash into them.”

“Oh. Well. That’s stupid.”

“Yeah well, welcome to Earth I guess? There’s lots of rules humans have to make the technology they have work for them. I’m sure we’ll figure out some better flying space for you.”

“Good. I got bored,” Starscream grumbles and Jake has to bite back a laugh this time.

… … …

Bradley watches as Jake, Starscream and Admiral Courtney get closer. Hound is having a good old rant at Sally, who simply looks like she is entertaining him. The rest of the brass along with Maverick and Ice are standing around, and a couple of the Admirals who Bradley doesn’t like are agreeing with Hound, about how Sally should have stopped Starscream from making himself known.

“We are at an airstrip, planes taking off have been known to use them now and again,” Sally says dryly and Maverick doesn’t even bother to hold back his bark of laughter, but he keeps an impassive face himself, sees it mirrored by Ice. Jake and Starscream are close enough now that he walks out to meet them, jogging a little to get away from the building tension.

“It’s fine man, what are they going to do to you? Dismantle you?”

“I’d like to see them try…” Starscream snarls and Jake holds his hands up immediately, shooting Bradley a grin and he grins back, glad to have someone else his age in this with him.

“No one is fucking touching you. Except maybe me or Maverick and that’ll only be so you can teach us stuff so we can build Jetfire back together.”

“I do not need your help to rebuild my friend…”

“Bet it would go much faster with help though. And friends help friends right?”

The expression on Starcream’s face is a little horrified and Bradley’s not sure what’s causing it, but Jake is snorting in amusement so he guesses they already have in-jokes.

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

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