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testosteroneb0y · 4 months ago

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NSFW alphabet - HABIT emH

-Cross posted on ao3-

CW: explicit/18+ content below the cut, A lot of kinks are implied but not directly mentioned and there is probably things I could add in here but I'm too lazy, just know it's kinky and smutty and all that jazz

Author's Note: this is the first thing I've written in a while and most of it is just me yapping. I tried to go over it and fix any mistakes but I've been too tired to properly proofread it. I also tried to keep it mostly in character but Habit is just such a questionable character it's rather hard to make it not end up being ooc. Gender neutral but made with afab body parts in mind.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I would like to think there would be a little bit but tbh it seems like a no. He'd probably make you see stars and then go straight back to murdering people or something <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His : hands. This fella probably has hands that would be on the larger side (which is shocking) and he just loves that, he can do so much more whether it's wrapping a hand around your wrists to hold them together or something else (that I can't think of rn😔 I'm too tired) he just loves the fact that it gives him more control

Partner : thighs, hips. I don't really have a good reason for this, he just seems like the type of guy to love leaving handprints from grabbing too hard on thighs 😇 similar to the thighs part, he probably just loves gripping onto them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he cums inside, there's no denying it. He'll say things like "'gonna fill you up so good, m'kay, rabbit?" I don't even think he would be that big on breeding but my god does that man love seeing his seed dripping out of you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jerked off and came into a pair of your underwear and put it back into your drawer. He would be soossososoooo obsessed with the fact that you'd end up not realising and wearing them will they were still dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Habit knows his stuff and I stand by that. Evan, not so much. From being in so many different people's bodies he has to have gotten some action. He was probably pissed off when he realised Evan's body couldn't take as much as he would like to.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Literally any as long as he can grab at your ass, or thighs, or hips. Also doggy style occasionally because he just loves absolutely pounding down into you, shoving your face into a pillow and going to town.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

(This is more my Evan hcs bcuz yk its his body n stuff !!)

Naturally doesn't have much hair down there besides a little happy trail

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

honestly, canon habit probably would not give a fuck, as long as he gets to cum then he is fine but I'm a fanboy and dont care, i like that anyway :3

on the more ooc side, I think if he was truly inlove with you he would try to be more romantic but it's hard for him considering his violent nature

He would always try his best to make sure you have a nice (well...as nice as getting your brain fucked out of you can be) time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he is shameless. He will leave a room and go to the bathroom or something and have a wank, he doesn't care if people in the other room hear him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

CHOKING. He fucking loves choking people because he likes the way they try to grasp for air. The light leaving their eyes is enough to get this man GOING.🥰 he loves pain, inflicting it mainly. I think it would be kinda obvious considering his...occupation, if you will. He is big on corruption. He just loves turning a little innocent "rabbit" into the freakiest person :3

I could go on and on about his kinks but I'm trying to contain myself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Despite popular belief, I think he probably prefers being in his own house, but he would do it anywhere in the house.

If he is reeeally horny then he might pull you into an alley or something for a quickie

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything and everything you do will turn him on. I'm leaving it at that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Im a strong believer that tbis man likes everything no matter how weird but maaaybe like scat n stuff, I can just see him not really being the biggest fan of things like that, he probably thinks it's too gross (and will say that while being covered in like 6 different peoples blood)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves receiving, Face fucking is one of his favourite things. Everything from how you look in the aftermath of it, to (going back to the choking thing) Your eyes rolling back as he just shoves his cock down into your throat.

Although he likes receiving, I think he would be pretty good at giving. It's almost like a wasted talent of his.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I don't even know why I have to say this but he definitely is rough ASSSSFFFFF. He will plow into you like there's no tomorrow. If he is feeling really cruel he will go super slow at first, only moving very slightly, making it almost like new form of torture.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he is even slightly pent up he most definitely will let it out. He seems like the typa guy that hates being sexually frustrated and he HAS to have some sort of release to calm him down or he is just rougher later on in the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is down to try everything and if I'm being honest he probably has already tried everything, and I genuinely mean every single thing a person could like. This isn't to say he likes everything, but he does probably enjoys mostly everything being the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 he is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could and would go all day, all night. Unfortunately, he has other business to attend to. (Brutally murdering people 😍)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh brother, he has toys, TOO many toys. Mainly to use on other people but I can see him using a vibrator on himself on occasion. He also would own everything that could he used for bondage, which also happens to come in handy when he gets a bit silly and kidnaps people ! This is kind of random but I can see him loving nip clamps.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much, too much. I personally would not be able to stand the amount that he would tease, and I can put up with more than the average person. He is just a cruel motherfucker.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I can't imagine him being very loud. Evan whimpers, Habit himself wouldn't WANT to but that's the price that he has to pay when he uses other people's bodies.

He will talk and whisper dirty stuff into your ears most of the time but sometimes if he has had a bad day and is just really angry he will just shut up and get it over with.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves putting you in your place, even the slightest little bit of back chat and you are done for.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think he would be pretty average in size, maybe even slightly smaller considering Evan's height, but he would make up for it in other ways.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It doesn't take much to get him going so even just the simple act of bending down infront of him, whether it was purposely or not, and he will have you bent over.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Habit himself wouldn't be tired because of the whole being an entity but he would realise "oh shit this body is so tired" and he would just force himself to go to sleep.

#habit emh #habit everymanhybrid #everymanhybrid #evan emh #emh #slenderverse #fanfiction #habit x reader #headcanons #emh fanfic #gender neutral reader

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months ago

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Look! Up in the Sky!

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Reader

Description: It's hard, making a name for yourself as an investigative journalist in a city as big as Metropolis. It seems like everyone and everything is against you, just because you weren't born and raised in Metropolis. But you're determined to make it. When a run-of-the-mill article turns into a hostage situation with armed criminals, you're not sure you'll be making it out of this situation alive. Can a run-in with Metropolis' own Superman light the flames of your passion once more? Or are you destined to pack up and go back home?

Disclaimers: DC canon-typical violence. Armed gunmen. Some language.

Warnings: Like most of my fics, this fic features a Female!Reader

Word Count: 3313

Author Note: Hiya lovelies! I've been thinking about this fic for a long time. I started writing it sometime early this year and never actually got very far. Several rewrites later and here we are!

First and foremost, I want to dedicate this story to the beautiful @sarahsmi13s, since it is her birthday! Vinny! Happiest of birthdays to you! I hope the upcoming year is bright and filled with as much joy as you've brought to me!

Second, I feel like I am permanently obligated to thank @horseshoegirl for being the Comma Queen she is and making sure my ramblings are well-written and actually make sense. This fic wouldn't be possible without you, Lucky!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

"I'm sorry, he what?!"

The mumbling on the other end of the phone makes you even angrier and more frustrated than ever. The frustration isn't new to you, not at all. It's part and parcel of being one of The Daily Planet's investigative journalists. The other thing the Planet appreciates in its journalists is people who have a nose for stories. You think you have one. Which is why everything is telling you that Peabody is prevaricating because he's trying to hide something.

"I understand your position, Mr. Peabody, but your contact is my biggest informant. If we don't have his testimonial, we'll never be able to publish this article on LexCorp."

There's more irate, increasingly loud yelling spilling down the speaker, but you could care less. You've been working on this article for months, carefully building layer upon layer of evidence, crafting the perfect hard-hitting expose. You're not taking his bullshit at face value anymore. Your mind is whirling as you lean back in your chair. Peabody is still spilling excuses into your ear, not that you care. Maybe you’re a little rough and brusque with Peabody as you hang up, but something about this situation is pinging in your head.

Your office is a bright space, all white walls, glass panes and metallic accents. From up on the 68th floor, Metropolis looks like a heaving anthill. Across the cityscape, another skyscraper glints tauntingly at you. You know Luthor is wrapped up in this. Okay, sure, corporate espionage isn’t exactly his deal, but who else could it be? You’ve carefully counted out every other potential culprit. Only Luthor is left. Turning around, there’s an unholy rage in your countenance as you glare down at the twisted mess taking over your walls. There are newspaper clippings, articles, string and scribbled notes all over the walls. Just looking at it is sometimes enough to give you a headache. But you desperately need to get to the bottom of this situation. There must be a reason why all roads seemingly lead to Lex Luthor’s shining obelisk to his ego. You wouldn't be surprised if Peabody is clamming up because someone is blackmailing him.

Before you can further dig into the LexCorp situation, a whistle rings out through the air. You're the newest investigative journalist at the Daily Planet. It means you have the smallest office with half-broken heating and air conditioning, which nobody else wanted. It’s also the office furthest away from the bullpen.

The editor-in-chief of the Planet, a gruff, peppery older man named Perry White, only calls all of you together if there is something big brewing in Metropolis. You have to shove your way to the front of the circle loosely gathered around Perry. You're short, so you couldn’t see over the crowd if you tried.

“Alright, alright, settle down you lot.”

Perry's voice is gruff, carrying the tones of a person who grew up in Metropolis or one of its boroughs. Of course, most of the office hails from Metropolis. Sometimes you think your upbringing in the cornfields of Iowa has something to do with your distance from the other journalists on staff. After all, despite living in Metropolis for the past five years, your voice still holds the slightest twang. You can dress like a Metropolis professional, walk like one, and talk like one, but everyone makes it abundantly obvious you will never be a citizen of Metropolis.

The hazing is par for the course. You’ve seen more than your fair share in the three months since you started at The Daily Planet. The source of your struggles is, you’re sure, one person. She’s standing at the other end of the circle of reporters waiting with baited breath as Perry doles out assignments.

Natasha Trace.

She gets all of the best assignments from Perry, just because she’s his niece or something like that. The vindictive smirk she gives you as she accepts the latest city hall press conference is proof. Your own assignment is a little more dangerous, 300 words on the newest homeless shelter opening in Southside. According to the mayor, Southside isn’t dangerous anymore, but you don’t believe him. Perry quotes the same thing every chance he can get, especially because he sends reporters out to Southside pretty often. It’s all part of the Planet’s “For the People” reporting strategy. Every day, you hear people talking about another mugging or shooting or what have you. So you’re under no assumptions that Perry and Natasha are giving you an assignment they want you to succeed in.

You're cursing them more and more the next day when you're kneeling with a puddle of spilled tomato soup seeping into your sensible dark trousers. It was just your luck that masked gunmen waltzed into the shelter in the middle of your interview, wasn’t it?

It was also just your luck that one of them had sent a spray of bullets into the air the moment hands went up. Cue some well-deserved screaming and a near-stampede for the doors, and you’d been pushed to the floor. So now you’re crouching in spilled soup with your hands up, trying and failing to moderate your breathing.

What the hell does a soup kitchen in Southside have for a gang of armed robbers, anyway? It’s not like it has much money. After all, this is only one of a string of new food shelters opening up in Metropolis. They’ve all been funded by the government, and they’re all supposed to be as clean as can be. Supposed to be, anyway. Obviously something isn’t right in the state of Denmark.

What’s just as interesting is the sight of the photographer you’ve been sent to the shelter with. Mickey Garcia is one of the Planet’s best. He’s got an eye for taking those photographs nobody else can. You’re not sure why Perry sent him with you. Usually he’s buddy-buddy with Natasha. He’s probably wishing he were with Natasha at City Hall right now. You know you are. But he doesn’t look scared or worried. He’s just kneeling in the soup next to you, hands up with his head cocked to the side and eyes staring into the distance.

It’s almost like he expects the police to come roaring up. Just as the lead invader turns his head, there’s a rush of wind and you see an imperceptible smirk on his face before he disappears between one blink and the next. You can smell ozone in the air, bitingly sharp, but it seems like nobody else notices but you.

Who the hell is Mickey Garcia? You almost wish you were hiding behind one of the tables. Because then you can pull out your notebook and start writing. Instead, it seems like all you have is your eyes and ears. How did he disappear so quickly? Metahumans aren’t exactly new in the world (or well, at least in the country). You remember reading about metahuman related events across the country. After all, everyone knows about Gotham City’s Bat. But recently there have been more and more reports. A meta-human in red-and-gold streaking through Central City. Villains with the power to freeze anything in its tracks and heroes with the power of the seven seas and beyond. And of course, everyone has seen the fluttering blue cape of Metropolis’ own metahuman.

So where does that leave you? Wishing for Superman, as you’ve heard him called, to save you? You’re not even sure he’ll show at all. There have to be a million other things happening in Metropolis more important.

“ALL OF YOU ON THE FLOOR!”

You’re not on the floor long when a hand grabs you by your hair and yanks you up.

“What do we have here?�� A greasy voice growls the words into your ear as cold metal presses into your temple. “A little reporter eagerly waiting for a scoop?”

You shudder, your skin crawling at the hunger in this man’s voice as he traces his index finger up and down your throat. Your press badge thwaps against your chest with every movement.

“P-please.” You’re trembling in earnest, teeth chattering. “These people are innocent, th-they have no money. They’re here to get some food. The only money the shelter has is for food.”

His cackle chills you to the bone. “Oh, you’re so naive, you sweet little thing.”

“We’re not here for the shelter’s money. We’re here for the city’s money.” He grins, blowing his foul-smelling breath in your face. “And if the city doesn’t cough up the goods, we’ll just take you in exchange.”

“And what if he comes to save us?”

You’re not sure who asks, but it sparks a rising tide of questions. People are shouting the questions out, and the men grow angrier and angrier. From your new vantage point with a barrel pressed to your temple you can see how uneasy they actually are. Their fingers tighten around the weaponry, paling at the joints as they grip at the metal. The more people ask, bolstered by the sounds of the sirens outside and the crackle of voices through bullhorns, the angrier your captor gets.

“All of you, shut up!” It's a roar of sound which leaves your ears ringing. The gun hurts as it presses into your throat. It’s hard to breathe, to swallow, to think. Something tells you you're not getting out of this stand-off alive. Your pulse is thudding in your ears and your chest aches. You hear the tell-tale click and your eyes are screwed closed.

Please. Please. Please. I promise I'll be better. I promise I'll be a better daughter, a better employee.

You're not sure who you're praying to, but you’re praying nonetheless.

There's so much I haven’t done yet.

It shouldn’t be so sad, thinking about how pathetic your life is - how empty it is. You're braced to hear the sound of a gunshot, braced to feel pain and then feel nothing ever again. You can feel the silk of your blouse, the expensive one you never wear, sticking to your back as you heave in thready, unsteady breaths.

It's almost anticlimactic, the way it happens. You smell the same sharp ozone scent you did earlier and the hand wrapped around your throat, the gun pressed to the hinge of your jaw disappears. You keep your eyes screwed shut, trying to ignore the yells of pain and cut-off curses as people get beaten up. You keep expecting to feel the acute pain of a bullet lancing through you, burning through your skin. But you feel nothing. You hear nothing, and obviously all you can see is the underside of your own eyelids.

“Miss, you can open your eyes now. It's all going to be okay.”

You know what this voice is saying as you stand stiff-backed in the center of the room. Your muscles are locked in place and your hands are curled into fists at your side. You're not sure you could move if you tried to.

The hands that hold yours are warm, warmer than they have any right to be. But they feel good, and you can feel yourself relaxing into the touch. When your eyes open, you're not sure what you expected to see. But what you get is Metropolis's own Superman. He is smiling at you, pearly teeth on display, big brown eyes gentle as he talks you out of your panic. You're enraptured by how his dark hair curls just so over his forehead and how his jaw is so well-defined it could cut diamond.

More than anything, you wish you were still holding your notebook and pen or a dictaphone or anything. If there was anyone you want to interview here and now, it's him. But something is bothering you about him. He looks oddly familiar, something in the turn of his cheek and the fall of his hair.

Your statement to MCPD takes the longest. Long after all the other hostages have headed home or been shuttled to other shelters in the city, you stand, ignoring the way tomato soup is crusting on your clothes and how your fingers ache. Maybe your statement wouldn’t have taken quite so long if you weren’t trying to interview your interviewer back. In any case, by the time your throat is dry and aching, it’s late, approaching midnight and the only person left other than police personnel is Superman.

“A-are you okay, Miss?”

You blink at his words, because he sounds oddly bashful, and that is a look you never expected to see on a superhero’s face.

“I’m fine.” You grin, the motion only halfway genuine. “I'm just about to head out. I'm sure a superhero like you has better things to do, other people to save and whatnot.”

“U-um, no actually.” He tips his head to the side, using his hand to fix his already immaculate hair.

“Do you always wait around at crime scenes to walk a gal home?”

“W-would it be alright if I walked you home?”

Your questions collide in midair against each other. You huff out an exhausted laugh, but he just blushes a little, golden cheeks flushing as his eyes twinkle at you.

“N-no. I don’t make a habit of waiting at crime scenes to walk girls home. Guess that's something only for you.”

Now it's your turn to battle hot cheeks. You can't even fan your face off because you don't have a thing to fan yourself with. Flapping your hands makes you feel stupid. So instead, you let Superman lead you out of the shelter and onto Metropolis’ streets. The city is alive with the sound of cars and ambulances. Someone has a radio on their window playing music. It feels like you're in an entirely different place.

“So, what about that walk home?”

He smells good. For the first time you notice how good he smells, this Superman, now that your nose isn't clogged with the smells of spilled tomato soup and sandwiches. You want to spend time with him. You want to forget what is waiting for you in the morning, how angry Perry is going to be when you didn't get a scoop on the shelter or any pictures that you know of. Maybe if you spin the Superman angle to this? It doesn't feel right, exploiting this man when he's so clearly doing it to help people. You also don't want to stop talking to him yet.

“Sure.”

Honestly you wish you'd clarified, because when he said walk, you thought he was actually going to walk with you. Instead he sweeps you up in his arms and shoots up into the sky. You scream the whole way, hands scrabbling for purchase against his suit, finally settling for an arm around his shoulder. You're shaken and shivering when he finally stops moving.

“Shit, sorry.”

You grumble into his broad chest at the cheeky apology.

“Just thought you'd want to see the city how I see it.”

When you finally screw up the courage to take a look, your lips part in a gasp. The entirety of Metropolis is laid out in front of you. Lit in gold from all of the lights, you're grinning from ear-to-ear as you peer out over the city.

“It's gorgeous!” There's a pleased smirk on his face. “I can't believe you get to see the city like this!”

“Yeah,” He grins, something soft. “I didn't fall in love with the city until the first time I saw this view.”

“I can see why,” You gasp, witnessing how soft your colossal city looks in the moonlight, how it seems like a world filled with such promise.

“Let's get you home.” There's a blush on his cheeks as he swoops you down, following your murmured instructions like he knows every inch of the city.

You feel a little bit like a princess when he sets you lightly down on the doorstep. He's still floating in the air, the navy blue suit he's wearing clinging to every muscle. Now more than ever something feels familiar about him. He stays outside your door watching with the same smirk on his face, his head cocked to the side like he's waiting to hear your deadbolt slide home.

You're a little giddy when he flies away, and you curl into your bed like you're in a dream. You sleep well, for the most part, not half as traumatized as you expected to be after being held hostage at gunpoint. At least, until you jolt up in bed, your hair a mess around you and growl, “Garcia!”

He'd disappeared when the police came to the shelter with their bullhorns and their posturing. You'd smelled the same sharp ozone-tinged scent in the air when he'd disappeared and when Superman shot into the room. But there is more too. The shape of his face, the way he smiled, the almost compulsive way he pushed his hair off his face. He acts just like Garcia does, too.

What is the likelihood your first encounter with Metropolis' own Superman would give you insight into his alter-ego? After all, nobody would suspect that quiet, bespectacled, sweet Mickey Garcia, a photographer for the Daily Planet, is Superman. Nobody, it's obvious, but you. Forget your conspiracy board on LexCorp and their shady dealings. Right now, an exclusive interview with Superman seems like just the ticket to rocket you into fame.

But you can’t let on that you know. You spend the day typing up a lackluster article on the shelter opening, your eyes peering over your computer every time you hear footsteps coming your way. The people walking past you never stop by, not even to chat. You're practically sprinting for the door when you see Garcia, chunky headphones around his neck.

“Hey, Garcia!”

He turns and looks oddly surprised to see you.

“You got a sec?”

“Y-yeah, of course.”

His stutter is adorable. You have to remind yourself he is Superman.

“I wanted to take a look at the pictures you shot yesterday. Obviously the opening wasn't what we expected, but it should be an interesting public interest piece anyway.”

When he's sitting in the chair next to yours, fingers flying over your keyboard as he shows you all of the photos he took as well as a few of the aftermath, you're questioning your gut instinct even more. How is it possible he got pictures of the police helping people, interviewing you, if he was Superman?

It's nice, working with someone who smiles at you instead of spitting insults out behind your back.

“This looks great.”

There's a smile on your face as you look at the finished article.

“Yeah, not bad for an article about a shelter opening turned into a hostage situation, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

You turn, and rest your arm on his forearm. You let your reporting instinct take the driver’s seat. When he's relaxed, maybe you'll get some answers out of him.

“I completely forgot to ask! How are you holding up after yesterday? You know what Perry always says, ‘We're a family here at the Planet!’. I was terrified when those gunmen burst in.”

You prattle on and on, seeing his face change, almost fall, when you mention Superman.

“You know, he's awfully handsome, Superman is. He took me home, made sure I was alright.”

You grin, wickedly, though you know for sure nobody here in Metropolis knows you well enough to tell.

“And then he blushed.”

All of your suspicions are proved true when Mikey Garcia blushes the same way Superman did.

“You know something? Superman blushed just like that when he was showing me Metropolis how he sees it.”

There's panic in his eyes now. You're just fast enough to block him at the door, arm flung out to stop him from walking past you.

“So…. How long have you been Superman, Mickey Garcia?”

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @teacupsandtopgun

@roosterforme @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

@shanimallina87 @a-reader-and-a-writer @dakotakazansky @seitmai

@shinycupcakebaker

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x reader #superman!mickey #superman au #reporter!reader #both reader and mickey work for the daily planet

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sameschmidtdiffname · 9 months ago

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And now, for some shit ain't nobody asked for... *drumroll please...*

Fanboy Futturman Headcanons That Hardly Make Sense Unless You're Deranged

(because it's fun)

Tags: just rawdog it bruh, idk what this is. I got fucken murmed.

Notes: Special thanks to @luverstream for going insane with me. This list is based off of our oddly specific thread. Love you pookers <3

°☆>》¤●¤《<☆°

• 100% started writing fanfiction for 'Biotic Wars' because there was only two works in the whole fandom and they were both illiterate/ooc

• It started as a challenge because he likes writing as a hobby so he made a random account on Tumblr and wrote a one-shot from Tigers POV just for shits and giggles

• He didn't expect literally anyone to read it, maybe a couple notes

• Then around his lunch break the next day his phone won't. Stop. Dinging.

• Long story short, he ends up with an account with like. 1.1k followers

• Once he realizes he has a serious reader base, he takes his blog seriously

• He spends a weird amount of time perfectly curating his blogs aesthetic with mods and whatever extentions he can find

• Personally commissions other fans for his fanfic borders, proper gifs, etc. He has one fanfic actually illustrated for Kinktober and it stays at the top of the 'Biotic War' tags for months

• Speaking of Kinktober, literally will not make plans for October/late September because he knows he's gonna aim to post everyday

• Will stay up for days writing when he gets hyperfixated

• Hates posting short fics. If the number doesn't end with a .k he doesn't post it until it does

• Also has a bunch of Easter eggs from his favorite movies and such in his works as well

• Knows an insane amount of copywrite laws because he's had to deal with people illegally selling his works/uploading them on other platforms

• When he eventually gets a partner he initially lies and says he wanted to become a lawyer when he was a kid, thus why he knows so much

• That works for about 12 minutes before he finally breaks down and tells them the truth, then offers to show them his work because he's told literally no one in his personal life about it

• His partner eventually becomes his editor and co-author on certain works (mainly smut)

• Half the time when he's actively working on smut he's gotta stop midway to "test the accuracy" w/ said partner

• Writes OUTRAGEOUS smut that makes him unable to look in the mirror while he's writing it

• Deadass hides under his blankets in total darkness with tape over his computers camera because of the shame

• Has a collection of proofreaders/consultants because his first smut included cervix penetration and he got dragged by basically everyone on Tumblr for it

• Had a work get popular enough one time one of his friends sent it to him because they figured he'd get a kick out of it

• Which made him panic and stop writing for like a month to lay low

• Has a completely different Spotify account for writing because his mom uses his "normal" account even though he has a family plan (side note: they make little playlists for each other :))

• Has like 50 different playlists dedicated to his fics that's available for his readers to listen to

• The artists all range from Deftones to dodie depending on the work

• His top artist is Ayesha Erotica with 2000+ minutes spent on 'Yummy'

• (Also has an impossible amount of hours logged on said Spotify account)

• Has a whole panic attack when he leaves his phone in the 60s because he had a whole new chapter ready to publish in his 20 part hurt/no comfort/slowburn fic that was over 10.k words in his notes app

• Wolf finds his Ao3 account one time and becomes... concerningly obsessed with Futturmans work without realizing Futturman is the author

• It gets to the point Wolf will legit go on 30+ minute rants about the stories while Futturman is just hyperventilating in the corner because he doesn't know how long he can keep up the facade

• It gets worse when Wolf makes an account and starts actually commenting on the works

• However he ends up getting impressive tips from the rants and ends up incorporating his suggestions into his works

• Wolf never stops bragging about this

• His most popular work/series follows a female oc that originally started as a one-shot request for a oc x Wolf fic (which Wolf hates because he says it's OoC. Futturman does not agree nor care.) But ended up getting popular enough there's well over 20 parts

• At some point he, Wolf and Tiger get into a massive argument because he finds a bound copy of all of his works amongst their supplies and no one will confess who's it is and keep blaming each other

• (It's Tigers)

• When he gets to his final timeline he manages to get his all of his drafts back through Susan (who had a lot of questions, and was given no answers) and just publishes his work as an original series since Biotic Wars no longer exists

• "Orginial series" gets insanely popular and now he has like five burner accounts so he can read fanfiction of his own fanfiction

• Writes fanfiction for his own series purposely to fuck with the fanbase

• Usually will make it ooc but well written, but once in awhile comes up with a "headcanon" that will come true in his next book so he can watch the readers implode

• And last but not least

• He casts his other self in the final timeline as the male lead in the eventual movie adaptation. Because of course he would

(Bonus: in the OG timeline when Futturman ends up disappearing, his biggest series ends up never being finished, nor his blog updated. Leading to a weirdly thorough four hour video docuseries made by Wendigoon about the rise and disappearance of the mysterious author and how the 'Biotic Wars' fandom eventually finished the fic themselves and created their own spinoffs, leading the work to get more popular than 'Biotic Wars' ever was and like five different people falsely claiming they wrote it, only to be disproven within an insanely short amount of time. Yeah, kinda a full on My Immortal.)

>¤》○《¤<

Don't ask me what this was, I think I got possessed. Anyways, bon achoo sweet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #jhutch1992 #josh futturman #josh hutcherson x reader #josh futturman headcanons #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futterman x reader #josh futturman x y/n #jfutz #future man 2017 #future man hulu #future man

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redfurrycat · 10 months ago

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🤠🛖🛏️🐓And They Were Roommates & Only One Bed Fic Recs🐓🛏️🛖🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Barnes_Brain, Billpaxton, Coconutcordiale, Crueltether, Davidbyrne, Dracculaura, Dvrco, Emseebeans, Fuddlewuddle, Halestrom, Honestlydarkprincess, Imafriendlydalek, Indybob, Iprefervillains, Lesbiseresin, Nickies_Nonsense, ReformedTsundere, ReiverReturns, RosannaDrinksToForget, Sceld, Sreshaw, Teacupivy, Trinipedia, Vannral, Violation_of_faith_and_devotion, WaffleToaster, Writerofthelorde, Yourstrulytay.

I'll ride in this life with you by Fuddlewuddle {E}

Rooster is called back to Top Gun along with 11 other pilots for an important mission. Not only does he have to deal with the unresolved issues with Maverick now the Captain is going to be the one training them, but he's also been assigned to live with the one person who seemingly lives to infuriate him; Hangman. He'll be lucky if he even makes it to fly in the mission in the first place.

Squadron Scorpion by RosannaDrinksToForget {E}

Maverick, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy and Payback make up the Deadly Seven more widely known as Squadron Scorpion. Maverick isn't done teaching and the young pilots aren't done learning. Things can't get any worse when Rooster and Hangman of all people are forced to room together. They waited in silence. Each catching a breath. "Rooster, still with me?" "Still alive, but barely." "I... I think I need this." "I don't think I can live without it." "Glad we agree on something." Or maybe for the better.

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Barnes_Brain {M}

When Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was 14 his mother passed away, leaving him an orphan in an ever changing world. With no other family, and Maverick halfway across the world, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky took over as primary guardian. Through hard work and extreme perseverance Bradley reached Top Gun at age 27, even with Maverick pulling his papers. Take that asshole. But now that he’s at Top Gun he’s going to find if he has what it takes to be one of the best pilots in the world. That includes learning how to work with a team he doesn’t know, and doesn’t know if he can trust. Especially his obnoxious roommate who he can’t help but stare at. If only he could shut up.

show me again by dracculaura {E}

He hasn’t had a roommate on land-based assignments in years, not since flight school, so it takes him by surprise. He just isn’t used to it, not anymore. And he’s especially not used to sharing a room with fucking Bradley Bradshaw. (jake and bradley are roommates during their time at topgun)

T-shirt by violation_of_faith_and_devotion {E}

He inadvertently takes a breath and before he realizes what’s happened, Jake is already away, making his way towards the bar. He’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but he’d need to lie to himself. * Or, three times when Rooster smelled Hangman. And kinda liked it.

You Are My Deepest Lonely by Writerofthelorde {T}

Post mission. Neither Rooster nor Hangman can sleep. Both have nightmares and they get grumpy and rude. When it finally comes out that neither of them has slept in ages, Phoenix jokes that they should sleep in the same room or something, and they look at each other. A silent agreement. The thing is… Jake refused to let anyone in. Every nightmare just left him in a panic alone. Bradley sound asleep next to him. Because it worked, of course it worked. But now, Jake was just alone with someone next to him, and that was worse. So much worse. Aka Bradley and Jake share a room, but there's only one bed... They pine, they long, they ache and flirt. Jake has nightmares and panic attacks but refuses to share that with Bradley, who grows increasingly worried. When will they break?

coming up for air by vannral {T}

"The horizon blurs into blue and bone white. It’s so light it burns Jake’s eyes. The entire cockpit is eerily silent, except for the thundering in his ears. ’fly, fucking fly like your life depends on it – fly FASTER, THEY’RE GONNA DIE – !’" In which Jake shares a room with Rooster on the carrier, he has a nightmare about not reaching Mav and Rooster in time, and Rooster comforts him. And ends up sharing the bed.

I Won't Stop Running by ReformedTsundere {M}

"What? You said you were heading somewhere, didn't wanna give me the exact location, so sure, I've got a shotgun with no passenger and snacks that'll get us from here to Texas." When Bradley continues to stand there, with no response other than a widening of his eyes and slackening of his jaw, Jake takes two steps forward, close but not crowding into Bradley's space. "So, what'da say Bradshaw? Wanna come see the lone star state with me?" It strikes Bradley like he's been doused with a bucket of water, that Jake is serious.

Whiskey and Rye by sreshaw {E}

a.k.a. The Fic Where There's Only One Bed Because the Navy Fucked Up Hotel Reservations The Dagger Crew got turned into a real-deal instructor squadron after the mission. They get sent on missions and demos to teach new pilots how to do what they do. On this trip to Florida, the WSOs are staying with their pilots, but Jake and Bradley, since they are WSO-less, have to room together. And the hotel fucked up.

nothing safe is worth the drive by davidbyrne {E}

this slope is treacherous (and I like it)

It begins, like most things in Jake’s life, with a questionable decision. Or they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

I will follow you, follow you home

missing scenes from the first year of jake and bradley's cohabitation

You Love Him, and No One Else by Sceld {T}

“I’ve got it,” Jake offers, holding his hand out, but Rooster only tuts disappointedly. “What kind of host would I be if I made you carry your own bag?” Jake blanks on a response, his mouth twisting into a smile without his permission. Rooster turns to where Jake can now see the Bronco. Its engine is still running, and it’s warm inside when Jake closes the door behind him, clicking on his seatbelt by feeling along while he stares intently at the glove compartment in front of him, waiting while Rooster puts his bag in the boot. He doesn’t feel as weird as he thought he would, as he probably should. Every conflicting feeling from the F-14 is returning in waves. He’s helpless to resist the pull of the tide. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. or; Jake's apartment floods and his only other option is to stay with the last person in the world he wants to spend time with. Shenanigans ensue.

Wave goodbye and say hello to unfamiliar circumstances by trinipedia {E}

Finally, the glances and the expression on Bradley's face that morning made sense, and Jake found himself grinning as widely as the cat that got the cream. Okay, maybe not yet. But soon, sooner than he thought. OR: Jake has a crush on Bradley and decides he has to have him. Incidentally, Bradley agrees.

I should be scared, honey, maybe so by yourstrulytay {T}

It’s several nights into their new sleeping arrangements that Bradley jolts out of sleep, heart pounding, and for a second, he can’t figure out what’s woken him. The room is filled with silence as he looks around, trying to spot something that may be out of place. He’s confused until a sound emanates from the bunk next to his. It’s a soft keening sound and Bradley’s heart twists to hear the pain laced through the drawn-out noise. It’s the next sound that has Bradley stopping cold, head whipping around to look at the man inhabiting the other bed. It’s mumbled, but undeniable. “Rooster- Bradley, no-!”

will the teasing of the fire be followed by the thud? by davidbyrne {T}

as he can to understand. “Because…you always are first,” Jake offers, shrugging. It’s the truth, as lame as it may be. “I think I have the right to be a dick to the person who broke my heart,” is Bradley’s abrupt response.

Hey Hey Hey Lover by Nickies_Nonsense {G}

After the mission Bradley and Jake are both granted a month of leave. Mav offers up his house but it feels too soon so Bradley does the only reasonable thing and rents an apartment with Jake for a month. Terrible cooking, stomach bugs, beach days, nightmares, and first kisses follow.

Some Unspoken Thing by indybob {M}

With paths that have crossed for the better part of a decade, Jake and Bradley have a history unlike any other. A history that sees their relationship develop from best friends, to bitter rivals, to eventual lovers. The five times that Jake felt there was some unspoken thing between himself and Bradley, and the one time he decided to do something about it.

waking up to you by honestlydarkprincess {T}

Jake drinks too much at a party he and Bradley throw for Bob's birthday. He wanders off, settles into Bradley's bed and they fall asleep. That's it, that's the fic. Based on the prompt "we’re roommates and you drunkenly passed out in my bed; move over I’m coming in"

Calefaction by ReiverReturns {M}

It's 2am, and Bradley isn't used to sharing the hour.

tell the truth, I look better under you by lesbiseresin {G}

Before Bradley knows it, there’s a hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing as Hangman slips past him towards the door. “Hope you don’t snore. Otherwise I might have to shove your face into a pillow,” he tells him, completely cheerful. It makes Bradley want to reach for his collar again, face no longer numb but burning hot in a way he hopes doesn’t show through in color. Instead, he tightens his jaw and does what he’s been doing for the past few days every time Hangman tries to push one of his buttons. He ignores him. (alternatively: and they were bunkmates…)

Storm's Coming by imafriendlydalek {M}

There's a hurricane headed toward San Diego and Rooster gets sent to a nearby aircraft carrier to help move planes back on land before it sails out to sea. Too bad the storm has other plans.

you next to me by coconutcordiale {T}

“We can play for it,” Bradley offers, twisting to reach across Jake and pull a deck of cards he’s tucked into the rack supporting Jake’s mattress. “Loser has to trek across the ship and sleep with Zing.” “He’s not my type,” Jake says, mischief glinting in his eyes when he peers up at Bradley. “Too skinny.” + aka three times there was only one bed and one time there were too many

waiting for a star to fall by billpaxton {E}

Bradley's been struggling to adjust after the uranium mission so Maverick generously gifts him with a weekend pass to a mediation retreat in the Californian woods. He should be grateful - really it's an awfully nice gesture and a getaway Bradley's been desparate for. But it's hard to be appreciative when Maverick forgot to mention anything about having a roommate.

Being your something (for Christmas) by WaffleToaster {E}

It all started because of a damn Christmas sweater. Bradley's pretty sure there's some underlying motive behind all this, all he wants to do is to survive the party, but Jake ends up making everything ten times worse than it actually is. So what can he do other than defend his pride? Throw in some alcohol, some stupid questions and some shameless behaviour and just maybe.. maybe, he'll admit that he's actually having fun. And maybe he'll also admit that he's kind of hoping for something more..

When September Ends by imafriendlydalek {E}

Bradley had only applied to colleges other than the Academy to appease his mom, who insisted that it was important to have safety schools. He never thought he would need a backup. And yet here he is, at Cornell University. His dreams of going to the Academy have been thoroughly dashed, his mother is buried across the country next to his father, and his parking spot has just been stolen by some asshole with Texas license plates.

I’ll save you a seat by teacupivy {M}

“What if…” Seresin starts, but then he shakes his head. He’s about to walk away when Bradley grabs for his wrist, nodding at him to go on. “It’s stupid,” he says, rolling his eyes, “but what if we go together?”

feel it all by crueltether {E}

The battery percentage on Jake's phone is nearing the red zone and the last thing he wants is to be completely removed from society (being stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere is bad enough). He leans down to find the charger in his bag when – “Seresin?” Jake goes still, grin on his lips before he even looks up. “Bradshaw,” he replies, grin twisting into a fond smirk. “As I live and breathe. The hell are you doin’ here?”

Maybe We Were Always Meant To Be by indybob {E}

“And since my flight got rerouted I have to stay at a hotel nearby. It’s supposed to be a nice one at least.” Jake sounds a bit on the annoyed side considering he’s going to be stuck at a hotel for his entire leave, and Bradley can’t say he blames him. The idea of Jake having to live out of a hotel doesn’t sit right with Bradley. It sounds just as boring and lonely as it’s been for him alone in his house. He’d hate for his friend to go through that for two weeks. The perfect solution suddenly dawns on him. At least, it’s perfect logically, but in reality, it’s probably a terrible idea. Oh well. He’s got to jump off the perch sometime, right? “What if you come stay with me?” Or: Two boys. Two weeks. One everlasting love.

I wanna bring you home myself by Iprefervillains {T}

Jake! Jake! Jake! All he could think about was the other man, every thought led right back to him. He was supposed to be asleep, not wide awake, missing Jake while sniffing his fucking pillow. He was supposed to be pissed at Jake for getting the first overnight date with the prince like the others were, not pissed at Brigham for stealing Jake away. Hell, he was supposed to fall in love with the prince, not with -. Oh. Oh. --- or when Bradley applied to be a contestant on “Prince Charming” on a drunken dare by his best friend all he hoped for was to have a fun time in Mexico and make some new friends within the queer community. He didn’t expect to get to the Top 5 of the show. He certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with his annoyingly handsome roommate Jake along the way.

me and my truth we sit in silence (we can't be friends) by dvrco {M}

“Seresin and Bradshaw” He’s fuming. He’s pissed. Whatever Admiral put together this stupid list better hope Jake never finds out their name. Months of strategic avoiding all out the window because now he has to share a glorified broom closet with the object of all his hate and desire. He had come to terms with having to live, breathe and eat with him on a ship in the middle of the Pacific ocean. But literally having to sleep directly on top of the other man has to be some kind of cruel joke. or Jake and Bradley have been broken up for a few years when they get stationed on the same base and carrier for two years, assigned to share a three by seven foot box the Navy calls a bedroom.

riding down this highway with you by halestrom {E}

At loose ends after the mission, Jake and Bradley end up on a spontaneous roadtrip that changes their lives forever.

Bad Idea, Bradshaw. by emseebeans {T}

Bradley reaches across the bed towards Jake in the dark, the same way he has so many times before. “Bad idea, Bradshaw,” Jake says, the moment his hand settles on his hip.

#And They Were Roommates & Only One Bed Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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sometimes-i-write-good · 2 years ago

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5 + 1

Top Gun: Maverick - Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!pilot reader (callsign: Fallbeil)

4.4k || 5 times Bob remembers your little quirks and habits, and 1 time you remember his.

===

Genre: Fluff, crushing, love confessions

CW: mentions of drinking, swearing

Author’s Note: Bob is such an acts of service kind of person - I can feel it deep in my soul. Also, I thought the idea of him ending up with someone who has a scary ass callsign like Guillotine (which is Fallbeil in German) despite him being a cinnamon roll would be the funniest thing in the world. || cross-posted on ao3

===

The first time you noticed something was because Hangman had that stupid ass look on his face again. That same one he always had, the only one he had in all honesty. The one that, recently, only ever seemed to be directed at you and that pissed you off most of all.

“What?” He asked, but the smirk pulling his lips back into the stupid, smug fucking smile told you clearly: he knew exactly what.

“Leave her alone, Bagman. I’m not in the mood today,” Rooster said, and you could tell he meant it. HIs voice sounded surprisingly tired considering mornings were his prime time of existence. Maverick insisted on calling these meetings earlier and earlier, chinking away at everyone's stability, and it was proving to be too much for even the earliest of risers.

Hangman scoffed, pressing his hand to his chest, and feigning offense. “Why am I always the bad guy? What if today was the day Fallbeil finally snapped and did something to me instead?”

You rolled your eyes. “If I snapped, you wouldn’t be holding a conversation with me. Your head wouldn’t even be attached to your body.”

“Living up to your name as always, doll.”

Rooster slid into one of the empty chairs at the conference table, slapping down a notebook, and turned to look at you. “I’ll punch him if you want.”

“I’m perfectly capable of throwing my own punches, thank you.” The look on Rooster’s face said he didn’t trust you not to take it too far.

“And coffee mugs.” Hangman glanced over his shoulder; eyes trained on the spot where a cracked, open travel cup lay open. Opened and spilled, everywhere. “Which I managed to dodge.”

“Try to dodge my-” but your insult was cut short by Rooster saying, “Coffee? You hate coffee.”

You set your lips in a thin, embarrassed line. “He told me that it was tea.”

“And you believed him?” Rooster snorted.

You slunk back into your chair, crossing your arms with a pout. “It’s early! I’m basically the walking dead right now, birdbrain.”

As with every mission of this sheer level of importance, your anxiety had been too great to let you sleep. Usually Bob or Phoenix or Rooster, the early risers of the group, would be up to go for a job or hit the gym with you. You were up well before all of them today and had taken it upon yourself to go for a run, shower, and be painfully early to this briefing. You had hoped Bob would be the first one there, he typically was, but the universe was out to get you because instead of those sweet, doe eyes behind some thick-lensed glasses all you got was a stupid pair of lips messing with a toothpick.

“Don’t be too hard on, Rooster.” Phoenix called out, walking into the hangar with Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in tow. “I already smoked him during our run this morning. He’s fragile.”

Before Rooster could get all up in arms or Hangman could jump on a moment of vulnerability, Maverick walked in. He had his way to the head of the table while everyone else found their seats. “Good morning, everyone.” Tired, disjointed voices repeated the sentiment, pulling a smile onto Mav’s face. “I see we’re all ready for a busy day. What do you say we get started?”

“Sorry, I’m late, sir!” Bob’s voice comes from behind you. “I couldn’t find the kettle.”

Kettle, you thought to yourself, but Maverick just waved for him to sit down and continued talking. Before Bob headed over to the only open seat, by Hangman of all people, he placed a small cup of tea in front of you without a word. In your favorite mug, too. You brought it up to your lips to taste it… and it was perfect. Exactly the way you liked it.

‘Thank you,’ you mouthed at him after he sat down. Bob just nodded and focused his attention on Maverick. You did the same, not even registering that he didn’t have a cup of anything for himself.

–

The second time you noticed something nice Bob did for you was during poker night. Fanboy and Payback had decided tempting fate and coming out the other side had bonded you all for life. A point any of you could hardly disagree with. That mission was not something any of you were supposed to come back from. So, the idea of a movie night had been tossed around, but Payback always tried to guess the endings and Hangman tried to outdo the one-liners and Rooster just had to know if he knew that actor from another movie - needless to say, movie nights were shelved very fast.

Then the idea of bar hopping came about, followed by karaoke night, followed by trivia night. Each of which ended up in all of you spending too much money on booze and drunkenly embarrassing yourselves with horrible vocals or blatantly wrong answers to obscure history questions. You all settled on the idea of a game night. It seemed to work well enough. A ‘family’ dinner followed by a board game. Except for the fact that Payback instead of placing bets no matter if it was CandyLand or Monopoly, which Coyote would double, and Hangman would triple. Leaving you all spending just as much money as you had at the bar.

It was Bob who brought up the idea of having poker nights. Something with betting already designed into it so that none of you had to worry about emptying your bank accounts at the end of the night. That was the problem with setting elite competitors against one another, they never knew when to quit.

You’d all been kept relatively close to TOPGUN, usually stationed a few hours away max. Months where distance wasn’t a problem, you all tried to meet once a week. If one of you weren’t stateside, then once a month worked just fine. Six months into poker nights so far and you’d been able to have at least one every month. Every time the list of things to bring shifted down a person, so that each time a new person would be in charge of chips or appetizers or the main entree, etc. It was a system that worked with military precision.

Until the one time it didn’t.

Bob was the last through the door of Payback’s small apartment. At least, it looked small with so many people crammed in there. “Here, I got special plates this time.” He raised them high above his head like a prize. Large, sturdy, and compartmentalized. Like the trays you’d get in the mess hall or for a school lunch.

The statement caused immediate uproar.

“I was on plates and napkins!” Coyote said around a mouthful of sour cream and onion chips, brought by yours truly. And Hangman started making comments about how if no one was going to follow the list, then he wasn’t going to either.

“You weren’t in charge of plates, Bob!” Fanboy tried his best not to get too worked up over it. He had created a spreadsheet of everyone’s responsibilities. Verifying everyone knew their roles was his main role in making sure this whole operation ran smoothly. “Please tell me you still brought dessert.”

“I’ve got dessert. My grandma came out this weekend and made a peach cobbler.”

The mention of his grandma’s baking ensured the pitchforks and torches were put away, for now. That woman had godly skills in the kitchen. You would gladly sit down and eat an entire cobbler of hers by yourself in one sitting.

Coyote, still hurt by his duty being impeded on, asked, “So then what are the plates for?”

“Fallbeil doesn’t like when her food touches,” Bob said as though it were the most common knowledge in the world. “You guys always insist on getting plates that are way too small.”

He set down the plates on the counter, followed by the pie, and went to take off his shoes and didn’t bring anything like that up again for the rest of the night.

–

The third time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was a day he had to leave early. A helicopter was coming to pick him and Phoenix up to take them overseas. Just for a few days, or so said those in charge, and you knew how easily a few days could change to a few weeks to a few months.

The thought of possibly not seeing them for a while aggravated you. It meant being stuck on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest shore without your two best friends. You’d known what you were signing up for when you first started. The military liked to keep their secrets. At any moment you could be swept away for a mission, but it still felt unfair when you woke up only to realize that your wingwoman and her WSO are replaced by strangers.

Back soon, take care.

Not signed but the handwriting was so obviously Bob. Cursive with careful, purposeful loops. Hangman tried to tear him apart for taking so much care in his notes during the pre-briefs before the uranium mission. The insults died out fast once everyone realized he had chicken scratch for handwriting. Funny how spreading a rumor Hangman deserved the callsign Rooster over Bradley could put him in his place so quickly.

Back soon, take care.

You stared at the sticky note, so carefully pressed against the outside of your locker. It was easy to imagine the conversation among him and Phoenix.

“I’m leaving her a note.”

“She’ll be fine, Bob. We’ve got to go.”

“Four words.”

He’d gotten into the habit of leaving sticky note updates in between lengthy letters. They held more emotion than an email or text, and you found that you liked it more than digital words on a screen. You could trace your fingers over each letter. Pretend as though he were pressed up in the seat next to you like when you’d go to the Hard Deck on a busy night and everyone would shove together in a few booths. A closeness you’d found yourself longing for in all moments spent together despite there being no reason for the two of you to share an armchair in the common room.

You had crushes before. A few relationships littered your history of schooling, but you, like many others who had graduated from TOPGUN, assumed the sky was to be your first and only love. And then Bob showed up with his quiet, gentle ways and your heart would soar every time he walked into a room. There were days you went without talking, but you could count on some kind of a note to be waiting for you on your door or waiting for you on the control of your jet.

Reminders that he was thinking of you. The way a best friend would. Surely. That’s all it had to be. No sense in constructing something out of nothing. Something that could wreck this perfect routine the two of you had created in one another’s lives.

You peeled the sticky note off the front of your locker to place inside, out of harm's way. Your finger traced each letter. It was likely he and Phoenix were off somewhere with Coyote or Rooster or Hangman doing something far more dangerous than the intelligence patrol you’d been assigned to. As you swung open your locker, you wished you’d had enough sense to write him a letter before he’d left. Something reminding him and Phoenix to be safe, but you hadn’t known he was leaving. You hadn’t even let the thought cross your mind.

“Oh, Bob,” you sighed.

A smile tugs its way onto your face. He’d left a mug in your locker. Not filled with tea this time, but with pens and highlighters and all your favorite stationary to use on your paperwork. You usually had a pencil case with you filled with pens that flowed smoothly and didn’t smudge or highlighters that didn’t bleed through the page.

He must have packed extra in his bag in case you’d forgotten that pencil case, which you had. But that wasn’t the best part. Somehow he’d managed to keep a rose alive and blooming to stick amongst the stationary. For, what it seemed to you, the sole purpose of making you smile.

–

The fourth time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was at Coyote’s birthday cookout. You were running late. Very late. More late than you’d ever been in your whole life to a point that you would have turned around if you could have, but you had been stuck on a highway without an exit for miles on end. The need to pee had never been stronger.

Stuck in the literal sense. Construction fed into traffic fed into cars stopping for no reason at all fed into fender benders fed into your frustration. “Please just move!” You shouted at the trail of brake lights in front of you. All you had to do was make it to the next exit two miles away.

But no one met your frustrated request. Instead, the standstill continued. You were destined to never arrive at this party. It had been weeks since you’d seen everyone together in one spot. Poker night had been postponed to tomorrow. Bound to be a dismal affair of hangovers and stale chips left out in bowls overnight. A slice of heaven on earth. Though, you would say that for just about anything if it meant being released from a fucking prison of a car.

Your phone went off. The distinct sound of big band music filling your car. Bob’s ringtone.

“Where are you?” His voice came through the other line at the same moment you shouted, “I want to rip my head off!”

An amused chuckle filled your car which only caused you to fume further. “I’m serious, Robert. This two-hour drive has become four- maybe five. I lost count when I had to come to a full and complete stop for the three millionth time today. It would be so much easier if Coyote had a runway in his backyard. Then I could just fly there-”

“Fallbeil,” Bob cut in, “are you almost here?”

“I’m a mile from my exit. I should be there in twenty. If I’m allowed to take my foot off the brake for more than a few seconds.” You let out a loud groan. “I’m going to stop at a gas station because I think my bladder might explode. So expect me in thirty actually-”

Bob laughed and spoke once more, saving you from yet another breathless tangent. “I’m excited to see you.”

You smiled to yourself. Grinning at the stopped cars in front of you like an idiot. “Yeah?”

“Have I ever not been?”

“I’m excited to see you too.” You could envision Bob’s own shy grin. No, you couldn’t hear the sounds of the party going on around him. He had closed himself off alone in a room to talk to you, which would mean the smile would be big and beaming. “Coyote enjoying himself?”

“I think he might have cried when Natasha put on the birthday playlist she made for him.”

“She’s good at that.”

“Good?” Bob laughed. “She’s elite at it.” Then, after a moment of comfortable silence fell over the two of you he said, “Want me to stay on the phone until you show up?”

If it were a normal poker night, you would have jumped on the offer. Phone calls with Bob had become a staple in that routine in one another’s lives. Letters and notes were not nearly enough to tide the two of you over. But today was a special occasion.

“No,” you told him. “I’ll be there soon.” He deserved to go enjoy the party. Not be tied up in a phone call where you were bound to blow your lid if the car in front of you did not speed up.

“Be careful. Drive safe.” The line clicked.

Be careful, you turned the words over in your head wondering what they would sound like punctuated with a kiss every morning when you headed out the door.

You turned down Coyote’s street, knowing exactly what you’d find. Cars taking every spot. Coyote was the most popular out of the crew. Charming personality, willingness to help everyone so much as passing by, and good looks. The combination needed for a party of the century.

And the shouts of excitement that flowed from his backyard told you just that was happening. Without you, and it would continue to go on without you if you couldn’t find an open spot to park. Bob waited at the end of Coyote’s packed driveway, hands stuffed into his jeans. A surprising amount of muscle strained beneath the button up shirt he wore to every part. More cars shoved onto the asphalt and spilled over onto the lawn.

Bob waved, waited patiently for you to park the car in the middle of the street, and then came around to the driver's side of the car. “Hey,” he said as he popped open your door. “How was the drive?”

You shot him a look. One that immediately set that bright, beautiful smile on his face. “Funny.”

“Here, get out.”

“What?”

“Get out. Go inside and say hi.” He leaned over to unbuckle you and the scent of his cologne tickled your nose. “I have a plate of food for you in the oven, on low so it stays warm. There’s one in the fridge too with the cold stuff.”

“Bob-”

“They’re all separated.” He waved you out of the car, grabbing your hand to help, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Fallbeil.”

You saw him again ten minutes later because he had to park two blocks away and walk back.

–

The fifth time you really noticed Bob going out of his way for you was a few months into the two of you moving in together. Solely as roommates, two best friends making the most of a perfect situation. Rent was going up, you had an extra room, and Bob had just gotten hired as an instructor at TOPGUN. The timing couldn’t have been better.

In truth, nothing could be better. The two of you fit perfectly into each other’s lives. Bob with his early habits. Having tea on the table for you alongside the crossword section of the newspaper he insisted on reading every morning. The hardest word always filled in as a starting point. He’d saved you the frustration of straining your mind over a word you couldn’t have dreamed up in the wildest corners of your imagination.

The preference over sticky notes as communication over texts still remained the same. Left on the mirror in your shared bathroom always signed with “be careful” or “take care.” Sometimes there is nothing of importance to say, but Bob would write those two words anyway as a reminder.

You’d leave voicemails if it was something that needed your immediate attention - talking on the phone to Bob became a bright spot in your week. You tried your hardest to leave them only for emergencies but hearing his voice every day had spoiled you. Sometimes your mind would lock on something you would absolutely have to tell him. Then you would find yourself pulling out your phone, typing in his number, and putting it away with a great sigh. You had planes to fly, he had students to teach, and the torture of being apart for a few hours each day made returning home to him all the sweeter. Returning home to movie nights or long walks on the beach or stories of students who remind Bob of each member of the Dagger Crew.

Phoenix would crash often when she got called back to TOPGUN, and Bradley hung around often enough seeing that Mav and Penny had made their lives here. Everyone cycled through at some point. Even Hangman had a welcome place on your couch if he ever needed it.

There was one night Jake had spent the night. Out of the blue and completely inconvenient as was the case with Hangman, but he offered to cook dinner while the two of you were at work and you came home to a good meal and surprisingly good company. What a sight to see the three of you laughing at a small table.

You hadn’t minded Hangman staying over. Though he did scare the shit out of you when he knocked on your door and let himself into your room to talk. “You know he likes you,” he had said, perched on the corner of your bed with that same stupid ass look on his face that meant trouble. “I think he might even be in love with you.”

“Bagman-”

“Hey, I come in here to tell you some life-altering news and you start with insulting me.” Hangman had let out a low whistle. “Think about it, Fallbeil.”

“What if it ruins everything? We’re doing so well.”

“What if it changes everything for the better?”

You hadn’t expected those words to play in your head as often as they did when Hangman finally left. It had been weeks since you’d last seen him. Poker night was tonight. He was hosting, and you had a feeling he was going to corner you with all sorts of questions as to if you’d made a move on Bob yet. A foolish notion. Bob might not be a skittish dog, but making a move on him still might cause spontaneous combustion. You were just trying to figure out which one of you it would be.

What could be the right time to tell your best friend and roommate that you loved him? That you have always wanted to be more?

You thought it over as you wiped sleep from your eyes and made your way into the bathroom. Bob had left earlier than usual this morning. It was a test day for the students and he was nothing if not prepared. Likely that kind, painfully chirpy teacher in the early hours of the day.

There was a sticky note on the mirror. As expected. Longer than usual. Unexpected.

Took your car this morning. Saw you needed an oil change. Be home late, then he can head to Bagman’s. Hope that’s okay. My keys are on the counter. Be safe. Love you.

You traced those last two words with the tip of your finger. It was the first time he’d added those two words.

And they fit so naturally on the note. Like they always belonged there.

–

The one time (the first time) you realized you were going out of your way to do things because you loved Robert Floyd when you went into the mall with a head full of ideas to get for Rooster’s birthday and came out twenty minutes later with one thing. One thing not for Rooster.

A model plane for Bob. Before he’d gotten so overwhelmed with his responsibilities at TOPGUN to cease having many hobbies, he’d built model planes. It’s what had gotten him into a love of planes. At least, that’s what he had told you one night at the Hard Deck, when the two of you were shoved up against one another.

Growing up in a small midwestern farm town didn’t give him many chances growing up to be around planes, but he’d watch the ones that flew over crops with rapt interest. He memorized flight patterns, sat alongside fields, and watched them every chance he got. Then, in the late nights where he only had his imagination to keep him company, Bob built model planes and memorized their histories.

“I’ve always wanted to be around planes.” He had slurred the words a bit back then. One too many sips of beer between handfuls of peanuts. “I kept them around me as much as I could.”

You hadn’t been able to figure out how crop planes became fighter jets in his history, but more stories came out as the two of you moved in together. Dismissive comments about school bullies. Talks about how he knew he wasn’t the strongest, but had always felt the need to prove himself. It seemed to fit into this idea people created of him - always a bit behind the rest. You respected him for sticking to what people told him he couldn’t do and making a name for himself in spite of it all.

And you loved that he trusted you enough to bring you in on those hobbies of his. Building fighter jets in the low light of desk lamps and night lights. Reminding you of the purpose of each piece. Telling the history of each plane. But your favorite part of all was when the two of you would build a jet you were flying and he would include all your statistics, everything you’ve accomplished, and, when you caught him in rare form, things Bob imagined you would do that would etch your name into the very fabric of history.

“Did you get a present for Bradley?” He asked, hearing the click of the door behind you. There was a rag thrown over his shoulder. Bob turned to face you with a smile. In the midst of cooking, glasses slightly fogged from whatever it was he was cooking, and your heart couldn’t take it.

“N-no,” you said, tripping up on your words. “I, um, I forgot.”

“But on the phone you said you couldn’t wait to show me what you got?” He tilted his head, watching as you kicked off your shoes, and placed your shopping bag on the table. “I hope you’re not trying to sign your name onto my gift, Fallbeil. I spent three months finding a vintage record of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ for him.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. “No, Robert, I will not steal credit for your gift. He’ll know it’s from you anyway.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “I got something for you instead.”

Bob’s brows scrunched in confusion. “Me, but it’s Bradley’s birthday?”

You pulled the model F-18 from the bag and held it out towards him. Your hands shook slightly. Silly considering the two of you were always going out of your way to do things for each other. Plates and oil changes and parking cars. Small things. Nothing as momentous as a declaration of pure understanding of one another.

He said your name with a softness you’d never heard before. As though he were praying.

“I love you.” You said it at the same time as him. And the words fell so naturally from both your lips. Like they always belonged there.

===

ask and you shall receive (taglist): @whoeverineedtobe @dhwanishah09

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tgmsunmontue · 1 year ago

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Another Time (Chapter 1/14)

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body about ~30 or so hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

A/N: There seems to be a lack of body-swap in this fandom, so I thought I’d give it a crack. It’s one of my favourite tropes. I am from New Zealand but I write with lots of ‘z’s and remove a lot of my ‘u’s. However I don’t in my author’s note. Hopefully I caught them all – apologies for slip-ups. (I also type with wrist braces on so my finger mobility can be a bit screwy – that said I’m also a fandom old (but not an elder) so while this isn’t my first fic, it is my first in the fandom and after I’ve taken a break.

Jake’s POV for odd chapters, and Bradley’s POV for even chapters.

Also, obligatory note that I have no knowledge of the US Navy (and that whole ‘girl, what were you doing at the devil’s sacrament?�� thing applies here as well in terms of military propaganda).

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 12 chapters in), after which I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's complete).

CHAPTER ONE

Jake wakes up in the sick bay, his breath coming in gasps as his dream fades into mist. Why is he in the sickbay? He doesn’t remember getting here and that’s never a good sign. There’s only half-light, the room has no portholes just some lights left on the dimmest possible setting; he can tell he’s still on the ship. The last thing he remembers though is falling into exhausted slumber in his rack, Javy below him and Payback and Fanboy opposite. He doesn’t feel right though, body aching all over, skin tight in places it shouldn’t be. He holds his hand up in front of his face and squints. Blinks.

That is not his fucking hand.

Okay.

Deep breath.

In.

…

And out.

…

Again.

…

He tries to sit up and needs to slow down the movement, body stiff and he’s not in his own body. Or there’s something very wrong with his head. Or both. He’s staring at mostly bare feet that don’t belong to him (one is wrapped in a bandage and is slowly throbbing in time with his heart – it doesn’t feel like a good idea to test bearing weight on it) when the door to the sickbay opens abruptly and he just stares. He guesses he knows where his body got to.

“Thank fuck! You okay?”

“I… Rooster?” He’s hazarding a guess, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He has no idea where Mav is, the other bed is empty. And he’s somehow in Rooster’s body, and not in a way he previously imagined was ever possible.

“Yeah. Fuck this is weird. You’re in my body.”

“Yeah, no shit. You’re in mine. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know! I woke up in your rack and promptly whacked my head because I thought I was here…” Rooster says, putting his hand to his (Jake’s) forehead where a bump is already forming.

“Be a little more careful with the goods there…” Jake says, and he feels like throwing up a little, although honestly he’s not sure if that’s in response to seeing himself through someone else’s eyes or if he’s feeling Rooster’s concussion. This is already a colossal mindfuck and he’s only been awake for a few minutes.

“Yeah, you too. Are you feeling okay? I was feeling pretty shit yesterday.”

“I can confirm this body still feels like shit.”

“Okay, here, drink some water. I’m allowed to take some ibuprofen. That’ll help.”

“We need to report this?”

“No! Fuck. No… I mean, maybe it’s just a short 24 hour thing?”

“You think it’s like a stomach bug? You think people just change bodies with someone and it goes away overnight?”

“You have any smarter ideas? I want on the next transport off, and if they think I’m not stable enough to travel… or if something is wrong –”

“There is something wrong!” Jake hisses, because he is not okay with this. Maybe if he wasn’t feeling like he’d ejected and then crash landed he’d be more… relaxed. Fuck if he knows. He can’t argue with wanting to get back to shore though.

“Okay, there is. But let’s get back to shore, RTB and then… figure out a plan of attack.”

“Oh, I cannot wait to hear what you think might work.”

“Shut up.”

The door to the sickbay opens again and they both turn to look at the corpsman entering the room.

“Morning lieutenants. Any reason you’re here Lieutenant Seresin? Not bothering my patient I hope?”

“Not at all, I just needed, uh, wanted to check on him…”

Jake watches his own neck flush in embarrassment, and hmm, that’s interesting.

“He can, uh, stay, while you check me over,” Jake says, because he has no clue what Rooster was like last night, over than alive. He’d been fine on deck right after Mav had (crash) landed, but he suspects adrenaline had been carrying them both forward for the most part. Now it’s been over 24 hours and he’s pretty sure Rooster’s ankle might be broken, given the sharp increase in pain as it dangles freely. He has no idea where Mav has fucking disappeared to, but he’d been here yesterday when he’d popped in for a quick check-in with some of the others.

“Well, okay. Let’s look at your ankle first. I hope you weren’t seriously considering walking on it after what I told you last night.”

“Sorry, forgot. Really need to piss,” he states, which is partial truth and lie. He couldn’t forget something he didn’t know.

“Hmm. Here then.”

Jake takes the container and chances a quick glance at Bradley who is fucking smirking at him with his own damn face. Unbelievable.

“Nothing I ain’t seen before sailor…”

Jake feels heat flood his face for no good reason and that’s mortifying, he’d take his own neck flush of embarrassment over this any day. Of course Bradshaw means it because it’s his fucking body, but the look the medic is giving them is amused, clearly having drawn their own conclusions and Bradshaw is looking completely unrepentant. Asshole.

TWO

#Hangster #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #Another Time

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isa-ghost · 5 months ago

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✨️ A (Witchy) AMFMN Update ✨️

Also I finally admit I'm famous at the end, war is over and yall won, come read my confession /hj

Spoke to Apollo about AMFMN struggles just now. I say struggles but that sounds scarier than it is, really I just mean grappling with motivation and the energy to write for long periods of time.

It boiled down to the fact that I won the battle against my grief with QSMP ending and no more ongoing Death Family content, but it cost me my motivation to write. That's not to say that the fic is dying or anything, basically I just need to find a new source of motivation, even if that motivation is myself.

But as long as I stay in-tune with myself and keep at writing because I WANT to rather than relying on something fueling me to keep going, I'll be good. Which is what I Have been doing, it's just not been easy. But that's to be expected.

He ended things off saying don't feel discouraged just because the process has gotten a little harder and slower. If I'm ever struggling with motivation or something else to do with the writing process, I can always come to him for guidance and encouragement.

Tbh I really needed to hear the last part even though I already kinda knew it. I'm not entirely sure how me being cheered on by him and him being SO INVESTED in Phil and AMFMN has looked from an outside pov, but Apollo genuinely has been such a devoted fanboy and a great mentor through baby's first huge creative endeavor in a fandom. I've always stuck to OC and original stuff, so fanfic has been a really interesting and different experience.

Also for shits n giggles I asked him if I'm actually "famous" like everyone's been insisting because I love enabling him to be silly with messages. A while back he actually told me AMFMN was gonna pop off and get popular and stuff like that but I never really felt like it had? And some of my other circle members had echoed this to me too, but I still never felt that moment of like "okay yeah, it's popular."

Surprisingly, the first of two tarot cards he just gave me about "being famous" is actually a legit answer. He was saying don't be afraid to indulge the ego sometimes, it's okay to do that if you're not being a dick about it. I did something cool and I deserve to enjoy the pride I have in the success of the fic. And my refusal/denial to do so is kind of rooted in my broader issue with self confidence and whatnot. So lowkey he's bonking me on the head for Indeed Being Just Like Phil, Who Can't Actually Take A Fucking Compliment Or Praise.

The second card he pulled about it was sillier, since that WAS the intention of me jokingly asking him if he did think I was "a famous author." And of all fucking cards to pull he pulled DEATH. Which is SO FUNNY because *gestures to Phil's ties with death* but ALSO THAT CARD IS GENERALLY SO ALARMING TO PULL?? The gist of what he was saying with it is that if I stop letting self image related bs cloud how I look at "my popularity" so to speak, it'd actually hugely boost my confidence and lead to even more success with the fic. And while he can't confirm it'd get me "noticed" by Phil (as some people have for Some Reason said it should, it's not my goal), however that would go down, that IS a possibility. He just kinda said "take the fucking compliments, idiot. If you stay humble without downplaying things, you COULD pop off to the degree some people are already saying you should.

Which tbh,, I DID have a Phil pegs member recently put in perspective that most fics don't pass 1k hits on AO3. I don't know how true that is bc I Didn't Go Here (fic writing) until I got the idea for the AMFMN, but the fact that it has over 8k hits is apparently a huge deal?? And I guess my newness and inexperience with the fanfic scene just has kept me unaware of that?? So statistically speaking, AMFMN *is* famous? Which I just still cannot fathom LOL.

Idk, it's weird to think about. I legit do feel like just some guy who's simply passionately vocal about This Cool Thing I'm Doing. But I will admit, even if I don't Feel "famous" and can't take praise to save my life, it's been genuinely really sweet to have people drowning me in compliments and stuff??

And if I'm being honest, it really does motivate me to keep going, because it's nice to know that people really really like the thing I'm doing. People theorizing and being invested in the story has been the #1 thing making AMFMN so fun. I LOVE watching people try to work out what's gonna happen, when I'm foreshadowing, and yelling at me when I nuke them with angst.

I guess that's a long-winded and self-reflective way of saying thank you to everyone who's been so ride or die about AMFMN so far. Like seriously. It's hard to actually Process all the love but it means the world to still receive it??

But yeah, uh. God says I'm famous guys. Guess I have to admit it now. /silly

Anyway, AMFMN may be slower to update (for now) but I do absolutely mean it when I say it's not gonna die. I am legit too excited about shit I have planned to let it happen.

I wanted to finish Chapter 7 by yesterday but Shit Happened and so I'm gonna try to aim for this weekend instead. If I remember correctly I don't have any plans Saturday so,,, PauseChamp

Also as a quick note, I was gonna say this in the tags but it should actually probably be seen by people: #AMFMN things is the tag I use to save my own posts related to the fic on my blog, BUT if anyone wants to, or is already making theories, art, shitposts, memes, or just generally posting about the fic, I DO check that tag sometimes to see if there's anything not from me. So uh. If you haven't used it already, definitely feel free to use that tag for your own stuff related to the fic too, I will be looking. I 1000% want to see anything and everything people might be saying or posting. It's by far the most rewarding part of writing the fic. :)

#qsmp #AMFMN things #philza

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duchesschameleon · 4 months ago

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birthday surprise

fandom: top gun maverick

pairing: jake seresin/natasha trace/bradley bradhsaw

warnings: none! fluffy fluff fluff over here

summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t like surprises. Jake Seresin doesn’t celebrate his birthday. He doesn’t want, doesn’t need much for it. Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace are inclined to disagree.

authors note: for @qvid-pro-qvo. I’m so sorry this took so long to complete, it kinda ran away from me!

read this fic on ao3

Jake Seresin doesn’t like surprises. Jake Seresin doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday.

A few beers, a round of darts with Javy, maybe some pool and he’s good. He doesn’t want , doesn’t need, anything else.

Natasha Trace and Bradley Bradshaw are inclined to disagree.

Ever since the three of them had worked out their shit in the aftermath of the dagger squad mission, Nat and Bradley have learned a lot about Jake. Namely, that Jake’s birthday doesn’t hold the best memories for him. That Jake’s arrogant, asshole-ish personality is a carefully crafted shield hiding scars from a not-so-perfect life.

So the two of them had vowed to help make better memories for Jake, to prove that they love him and he is deserving of their love.

And it starts with his birthday.

“Nat, where are you taking me?”

“Out,” she replies, eyes focused on the road ahead of her.

“Out where?”

“Out.”

“Really, Trace?”

“Oh c’mon Jake, it’s your birthday. Let me take my man out for a little surprise.”

Jake rolls his eyes in the passenger seat, but the blush spreading across his cheeks reveals his pride at being called her man.

“You know I don’t like surprises, right?”

“Good thing this isn’t a surprise then. We’re going to the beach for some brunch, a little food, a little coffee, some good sea air and sunshine. Sound alright to you?”

Jake sighs, pretending to be put out, and nods.

They don’t drive for long before Nat’s whipping the truck into a parking spot across from Mav’s favorite cafe, the one he’d introduced them to after the mission. Jake feels himself relax more, looks around the street to see if a familiar Bronco is hiding out somewhere, Bradley possibly beating them to the cafe.

“Rooster inside already?” he asks Nat as she pockets the keys.

“No…he’s got something else going on. We’ll see him later,” she says, dodging his eyes as they cross the street.

Jake doesn’t ask anymore questions, just files it away and tries to enjoy the time with Nat, their breakfast together.

He lets the conversation flow between them, as if it were any other day and Nat seems content to do the same.

Until the check comes and she deftly wrestles it away from him to pay. “Birthday boys do not pay for brunch, that supersedes any southern manners you’re gonna try to throw at me, Seresin.”

“Fine, fine,” he gives in, hands up in surrender. “But that’s all I better be getting. You know I don’t like a big fuss.”

“Uh huh. Sure,” Nat replies, not meeting his eyes, scanning the check with more scrutiny than normal, not letting on that Bradley is currently at their home with Payback, Fanboy, Bob, and Coyote putting together a big fuss. A big, surprise fuss for Jake that they’ve painstakingly planned and kept secret for weeks.

“Convincing, Trace.”

“Oh shut it, Seresin,” she throws back. “Let the people who love you celebrate you, okay?”

And Jake backs off at that, knows that Nat means it and that he’s powerless against her when she mentions she loves him. That both her and Bradley love him. Its not been the easiest thing to accept for him, but he’s working on it and they’re constantly reminding him how true it is.

—

At that same moment, Bradley Bradshaw is at their shared apartment thinking he must really love Jake Seresin to be going through this much trouble to set up a birthday party.

He’s shepherding Javy in the door, the other man weighed down by bags of food, while Fanboy and Payback are supposedly working together to put up streamers and a birthday banner. Bradley hasn’t seen a birthday party like this since his own when he was a young boy, when Mav and his mom would decorate the house and invite their friends and his, trying to fill the day with so much joy to distract them from the presence of the one person who couldn’t be there.

But today’s not about him, it’s about Jake. About making good birthday memories for Jake and celebrating him. It’s the first birthday they’ve been together for, him, Jake, and Nat. He wants it to be special, to make sure Jake knows he’s loved, immensely.

So he’s shepherding their friends and hosting them while Nat distracts Jake, keeps him out of the apartment until the afternoon when everyone will be here and hiding amongst the furniture and decorations, when there’ll be enough food to feed a fleet of pilots and enough alcohol to drown them. It’s probably too much food and drink, but Bradley doesn’t care. It’s for Jake. So they’ll have some of everything and let loose.

“Hey, Rooster,” he hears Javy call out, “where should I put the ice? The freezer’s full man!”

“We’ve got a cooler on the porch, stick it there!” Bradley says, moving towards the kitchen to help out, direct traffic, and relatively reign in the chaos.

It’s Jake’s birthday after all, there’s bound to be more than a little chaos.

—

“Okay Nat, you’ve dragged me all along the pier, can we please just go home? I’ve had about every free birthday treat you can get.”

She checks her watch, then her phone. Bradley hasn’t texted that everything’s ready yet, but it’s closing in on four, when they’d told everyone they’d be pulling off the surprise.

“Nat, you good?”

“Yup!” She whips her head up and plasters on a smile. “I’m great, everything’s great.”

Jake arches an eyebrow, clocking the tightness at the edge of her smile. “Sure about that?”

“Mhmm,” she says, tapping on her phone. “I’m just…making sure Bradley’s done with his errand. I don’t want us to go home and he’s not there. Would be weird, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jake responds slowly. “What errand did he have to run today?”

“Uh,” Nat stalls, eyes wide, “I don’t think he told me.” It comes out more like a question. Jake’s eyes narrow, catching the lie.

“Nat, cmon, what’s really going on?”

“Bradley’s at the apartment but I don’t know if he’s ready for us to come home.” A half truth is better than nothing, the surprise party is still a surprise, she can make it through this.

“Uh uh,” Jake drawls.

And before she can say anything else, before she has to come up with another lie or half truth, her phone chimes and it’s Bradley texting her the all clear. She lets out a breath and looks up at Jake, smile bright and absent of any tightness.

“He’s all done, so let’s hop-to birthday boy.”

Jake just follows her, a little confused but willing to roll with it. He knows there’s probably something for him at the apartment, something Bradley’s been working on since he and Nat left five hours ago, but he’s willing to play along for his partners.

The drive back isn’t too long, thankfully. It doesn’t leave Jake with enough time to overthink what he’ll be walking into, what Bradley could have been up to for all this time.

Before he can get too lost in thought, Nat is parking the truck in the complex’s parking lot, which doesn’t look any more full than usual.

“Stop looking for hints, Jake,” Nat says as they get out. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Fine, fine,” Jake concedes, closing his door and following her to the steps up to their apartment. “There’s nothing going on, just Rooster waiting for us at home.”

“Exactly. Just Rooster, and some food. Nothing special or fussy for the birthday boy.”

And then she opens the door to a dark apartment and Jake frowns as he crowds into the doorway behind her. “I thought you said Rooster was-”

“SURPRISE!”

The shout and lights suddenly flicking on do not startle a scream out of Jake Seresin, absolutely not.

“Happy birthday, Jake,” Nat says, smiling at him.

“Happy birthday, baby,” another familiar voice says, pulling Jake’s attention to Bradley, right by the doorway, camera in hand, wide smile spread across his face. “Hope you like your surprise.”

Jake looks around the room, sees familiar faces smiling at him, all their friends and coworkers, this strange little family they’ve cobbled together, and they’re all here for him. Javy’s smiling at him, beer already in hand, and Jake just shakes his head.

“Running an errand? Fixing something in the apartment? Really, Nat?”

“Hey, it’s not easy lying to you or pulling this off! You are notoriously not fussy about your birthday and we just wanted to-”

She’s cut off as Jake grabs her for a kiss, pressing his lips firmly against hers. As the surprise wears off, she wraps her arms around his neck, lets him take her weight.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling back. “Thank both of you.” He looks over her head and she can tell from the heat at her back that Bradley’s behind her. Jake leans in to kiss him, trapping her inbetween them.

“Happy birthday, Jake. Hope it’s a good one.”

“It’s a great one.”

“Then it was worth it, wrangling these idiots we call friends.”

That sets off a round of laughter, squawks of protest, as everyone approaches them to argue Bradley’s point and wish Jake a happy birthday. And they take it all in stride, smiles on their faces.

#fic stuff #my writing #writing #top gun fic #tg fic #top gun: Maverick #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #natasha trace

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bitchofdarkness · 22 days ago

Note

can you please open your sweet home fanfics in ao3? 🥹 i'm new in this fandom and very lacking in content, so I'd appreciate it!

Hello anon, welcome to the fandom!

When I read "lacking in content" it made me cringe a lot tbh. Like, borderline becoming a pretzel. Why would you do that to me? What did I do to deserve that? If you're new to fandom, then please erase that word from your vocabulary. We are not tiktok/insta/youtube influencers, nor are we "content creators". We're just creators of fanworks.

Fanworks aren't "content" to be consumed and discarded. Fanworks like fanart or fanfics are to be enjoyed, to be loved and talked about; to be shared. Fanworks are something created through love of the source-- and sometimes hate of the source but love of the characters-- and those works deserve to be loved in return. They were made by someone, a human being put in effort and time to make those. (This is a good faith assumption that no one in the Sweet Home fandom used AI to "write" their works)

Tell me, have you loved the existing fanworks on ao3 and tumblr? Have you let the authors or artists know that you loved their creations? That you appreciate their hard work? Have you given Kudos or Likes? Have you Commented or Reblogged? Have you tried fangirling/fanboying/fanpersoning over the show with someone within the community of the Sweet Home fandom? Have you shared headcanon's with someone within the community? I mean, I do have a discord server for Sweet Home and everyone is welcome to go there and talk to each other, even when I personally have zero spoons to offer to speak sometimes. What I do shouldn't make or break someone else's actions to keep the fandom going after all.

Do you plan on loving and/or appreciating my works if I do reveal them again? How can I be sure when you are on anon and don't even reveal yourself to me?

I hope my answer gave you something to think about and hopefully change the way you see what is given to you freely by every creator in the fandom.

Good day 💕

#bitchofdarkness answers #anons ask #fandom stuff #psa

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twiceturned · 2 years ago

Text

Got Your Number

Summary: Top Gun: Maverick, post-film, Bob and Phoenix are off to their next posting, and it’s time for some parting words. Team-centric.

Story below, link to AO3 in reblog.

Author’s note: Goodness gracious great balls of fire, I think the last time I actually posted a fanfic was a decade ago. How did this happen? Why is this happening now?

***

The mission is over. Their special detachment will be breaking up any day now, everyone heading back to their regular assignments. But for the moment, they're back at North Island, killing time in a common room while the admirals decide whether there are any questions left to answer.

There's a poker game going at one table. Fanboy and Omaha are having a tower building competition with another deck of cards. Rooster has a book in front of him, but his heart isn't in it. Hangman and Coyote have found the configuration section of some sports car website. Their conversation, which Rooster can hear pieces of, is so mind-numbingly testosterone-laden that he wishes Phoenix would get back from wherever she and Bob got called off to, just so she could roll her eyes and mouth fucking fighter pilots at him.

With impeccable timing, Bob walks back in. He's been fitting in well with the group, but he still doesn't draw much attention when he enters a room. No one but Rooster notices him now, but he looks like he wants to say something, so Rooster helps him out.

"Hey, Bob, where ya been?"

"Phoenix and I got our orders." Bob clears his throat, notices that most of the room has quieted down to hear him. "We'll be out of here by this evening. I just want to say... it's been an honor to fly with you all."

There's a heartwarming display of camaraderie then, as Bob receives several slaps on the back, even more hugs, and at least one joking admonishment to keep out of trouble. Naturally, Hangman tries to get the last word.

"Now Bob," he says, like he's cheerfully giving advice and not going to sound like an asshole by the time he finishes, "you gotta remember Phoenix isn't mythical at all. She's a human, she's going to be making mistakes, and you have to be ready for that. Maybe get that hero-worship under control."

Honestly, it's not the worse thing Hangman has ever said, but his grin makes Rooster want to punch him anyway. Bob doesn't reply immediately. If he were someone else, Rooster would think he was considering the same thing.

Instead, when Bob does reply, it's with a retort that – while not the cleverest thing Rooster's ever heard – immediately becomes the most delightful bullseye he's ever seen.

"You want to fuck her so bad, it makes you say the stupidest things."

The room goes silent. Bob looks surprised at himself for having said it. Not a muscle in Hangman's face twitches, grin absolutely frozen in place. There's a pause which is really only about half a second, but feels long enough for the Earth to tilt entirely on its axis. Then Bob gives a little wave to the room.

"Well, so long, everyone!"

He makes a hasty exit that he's trying to make not look hasty. Fanboy shouts Hold up! and jogs after him through the door, and then Payback abandons his place at the poker table and follows.

Hangman makes the slightest shake with his head, still watching the door. His voice, when he speaks, is the same cheerful tone as before.

"Ok, who taught him that?"

Rooster bursts out laughing, which everyone uses as cover to return to their previous activities.

"Goddamn, bird brain," says Hangman, not looking at him.

"Not it, man. Just de-lighted to have witnessed it."

Hangman does look over at him then, trying to assess the truth of his statement. Rooster looks back at him, squarely in the eye. His next sentence is only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"He well and truly has your number now."

Hangman snorts, then says to the room at large, "I'm serious, y'all. Who taught our sweet little Bob to say 'fuck'?"

A half dozen voices shout Phoenix! at him in unison. Hangman rolls his eyes and drops into a seat several away from Rooster.

"You not gonna go say goodbye?"

Rooster makes a show of reading his book. "She'll find me before she leaves."

Rooster's only about eighty-five percent certain about that, and he would hate to miss her. On the other hand, it's incredibly gratifying to see Hangman following him around the rest of the day while pretending he isn't.

At any rate, Phoenix does find him. When they hug goodbye, Rooster picks her up and swings her around in a circle, and throws a wink at Hangman while she can't see. Once her feet are back on the ground, she gives him an elbow to the stomach. It's totally worth it.

#Top Gun: Maverick #Rooster (Top Gun)#Bob (Top Gun)#Hangman (Top Gun)#Phoenix (Top Gun)#Bradley Bradshaw #Bob Floyd #Jake Seresin #Natasha Trace

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wangxianficrecs · 3 years ago

Text

in the mood for a fic where…

Once again, I’ve got these and 25 more in the wings. It worked really well last time to just put this out there and work on it at the same time as you all (and saved me a couple of hours!), so I’m doing that again. (*if you want to submit answers as Anon, you may use my @mojoflower asks*)

For those asks that could double as prompts, y'all don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order! ***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[My ko-fi.]

~*~

1. Hello! I absolutely love your blog, it has become sort of a drug for me ❤️. Anyways, I wanted to ask if you knew of (1a) any fics where wei ying's archery skills play a central role. (1b) Any fics where lan zhan turns into a rabbit Thank you! ~ @smallcutesprinkle

1a.

shot thru the heart by huxiyi (G, 8k, wangxian)

nothing is safe. by eeriemedusa (M, 3k, wangxian) - mind the tags, sniper/archer wwx

Fletching by wildfrancium (G, 7k, wei wuxian & wen ning)

so far away and so near by rosianna78 (G, 2k, wei wuxian & wen ning, if you can read/translate Russian)

best to start by testing him by yeswayappianway (T, 2k, wangxian)

Similarities by Rain20034 (not rated, 1k, jiang cheng) - at the archery range with JL, JC flashes back to training with WWX.

1b.

blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, my bookmark)

it's you, it was always you by myung (G, 8k, wangxian, my post)

love & longing, rabbit edition. by jaws_3 (G, 18k, wangxian, my post)

my AO3 collection’s #bunny lan wangji tag, which gets you 9 fics

and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, wangxian)

if you go chasing rabbits by occultings (microcomets) (T, 24k, wangxian, my post)

~*~

2. Alright, sucker for some BAMF Wei Wuxian here. Any good Yiling Laozu, demonic cultivation, cool powers or just awesome d

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, my bookmark)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 8k, wangxian)

silk threads and precious metal by Sevidri (M, 5k, wangxian, my post)

relevant tags in my AO3 collection: #BAMF wei wuxian, #badass wei wuxian, #powerful wei wuxian, and #genius wei wuxian

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 58k, wangxian)

Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 54k, wangxian)

A Crown of Blood by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 7k, jiang cheng & jiang yanli & wei wuxian)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, juniors & wei wuxian, wangxian) - author says, ‘I wrote it because I wanted the juniors to be in awe of and collectively fanboy over bamf wwx.’

~*~

3. Hey Mojo do you know any Nie Huaisang uses war fans fics?

[Just for fun, I plugged this phrase site:http://archiveofourown.org/works/ 'battle fan' nie huaisang into the google search bar and got a list of fics.]

❤️shades of grey by cl410 (M, 59k, nielan, wangxian, nie huaisang & wei wuxian, big brother nmj, my post)

Jiang Rising by eebee (M, 114k, wangxian, WIP)

you move in circles (in plain sight) by ThirtySixSaveFiles (M, 1k, sangcheng)

Waiting on the Night Hunt by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 50k, wen ning & everybody)

Pieces of Us by JustAWanderingBabbit (not rated, 33k, jin guangyao & nie mingjue)

Mending the Pieces by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 98k, 3zun) crossover art in #3 above

Alliance of the Traveling Pants by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 82k, 3zun, wangxian, WIP) - beginning with a spectacular scene in Chapter 22

Art of Fan Fu fighter nhs: here by @cactusute-arts; here by @theusualemptypie; here by @adigitalsky-art

~*~

4. I'm looking for two types of fics: (4a) one that has WWX and JZX as a couple and (4b) a SVSSS AU where someone wakes up in the body of one of the characters from MDZS. Thank you very much.

4a.

AO3′s #jin zixuan/wei wuxian tag

i'm not sorry i killed Yanli if it gives me JZX/WWX/LWJ by AstaraelWeeps (E, 29k, xuanwangxian, 3 works, series in progress)

@scifikimmi says, “tell them to come and talk to me about it. I need the encouragement to actually write my wwx/lwj/jzx monster fic xD”

4b.

Here is the MDZS/SVSSS crossover tag on AO3 sorted by bookmarks

~*~

5. Hello!!! First of all I’d like to give you my undying love for the existence of your account, all your efforts are so so appreciated and you make a lot of people v happy - so tysm !!! [Aw, you’re welcome!] Second of all- I’m looking for any fic’s where lz is hurt (or something of the like) and basically wwx just goes batshit yiling patriarch (be it super murdery or just being scary/intimidating) on the asses of those who hurt him ??? Can be any setting at all, I’m just a sucker for possessive/protective wei ying

Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out? by Iggysassou (E, 14k, wangxian)

silk threads and precious metal by Sevidri (M, 5k, wangxian, my post)

hold me, don't leave me by ShootMeDead (T, 25k, wangxian, works 2 and 3)

How to piss off the Yiling Laozu in one simple step! by Eicas (T, 3k, wangxian, my bookmark)

A Spark in Dry Brush by mondengel (T, 2k, wangian, my post)

See #4 in this Mood For post for protective wwx

~*~

6. Hey Mojo! Hope you're having a good day! I was wondering if you could rec some fics where Jiang Cheng finds love and happiness :). Like... I've recently read some fics where, whenever he was present, I just wanted to pet his angry head and tell him "You poor, miserable child. You really need to find someone who doesn't trigger your inferiority complex and who'll actually put up with your bs". ^^ I don't actually ship him with anyone, so any mdzs character (except, yk, wwx or lwj) or an oc.

Utterly Inevitable by sami (M, 20k, xicheng, wangxian)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, xichengqing, wangxian, my post) - also many other works by this author, as well

江山如有待 | It Seems the Hills and Rivers Have Been Waiting by ScarlettStorm (E, 159k, jiang cheng/ofc, WIP) - this author has many happy jc stories, too

Running Our Hands Through Embers by MarvelousMar (E, 136k, xicheng, wangxian, my post – this one is jiang cheng-centric and angsty, but they get there in the end)

Four Days in Lanling by halotolerant (E, 21k, sangcheng, my post)

Jiang Cheng’s Mysterious Fever by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 14k, xicheng, wangxian, my post)

❤️Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (not rated, 103k, wangxian, my post) - less about romance and more about him finding a place in his family where he’s loved and supported

❤️10 RMB lucky chickens by Raitelzen (T, 25k, zicheng, background wangxian, my post)

I Sea You by Achromos (T, 10k, xicheng, my post)

❤️our footsteps sing a reckless serenade by ThirtySixSaveFiles (e, 46k, sangcheng, my post)

~*~

7. Hi ! Do you know any crossover fics ?

More Questions than Answers by tiniestawoo (T, 2k, wangxian, sterek, Teen Wolf, my post)

Atlas by etymologyplayground (M, 12k, wangxian, hualian, TGCF, my post)

ShuangXiu by panda_desu (M, 55k, wangxian, Nirvana In Fire, my post)

Spirited Away by PhantomWriter (T, 21k, wenzhou, wangxian, series in progress) - WWX adopted by Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu from Word of Honor

The Zodiac Curse by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27) (T, 3k, wangxian, my post, fruits basket crossover)

❤️ Demonic Cultivator’s Blessing, or: Curse of the Bunny Gods by FayJay (E, 25k, wangxian, hualian, tgcf, post here )

Of Ghosts and Heroes by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 51k, wangxian, eraserhead/present mic, my hero academia)

I can smile at the old days by zacechild (T, 30k, WIP, wangxian, hualian, tgcf, my bookmark)

let this soul be your whisper by merthurlin (T, 29k, hualian, wangxian, tgcf)

A Chance Encounter in YiLing by museaway (M, 10k, wangxian, hualian, tgcf, my bookmark)

~*~

8. Hello ~ I once read a really cute fic with fox!WWX and I loved it ! Do you know any other fics that have him as a fox /fox spirit ?

heavy is the crown by sweetlolixo (E, 58k, wangxian)

Paths of Light and Darkness Converge by ataratah (E, 30k, wangxian, my bookmark)

❤️ in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 38k, wangxian, my bookmark)

❤️ many fox given by defractum (nyargles) (E, 24k, wangxian, my bookmark)

the night breeze carries something sweet, a peach tree by pinklemon (E, 31k, wangxian, my bookmark)

❤️Magical Marriage Ribbons by starandrea (M, 505k, wangxian, my post)

Zodiac by orphan_account (T, 11k, wangxian, WIP, my post)

A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 34k, wangxian)

Keep Me on Your Pillow by catbrainedschemes (E, 42k, wangxian)

it’s kind of a spoiler but 醉 | drunk; intoxication by sweetlolixo (E, 15k, wangxian)

~*~

9. Hey, thanks for all your hard work! You're my go to when I want to read something new. do you have any fic recs were the golden core transfer doesn't happen?

AO3′s #No Golden Core Transfer tag

The Song and Dance of Shadows by wangxiansmelody (masterofghosts) (M, 49k, wangxian, xuanli)

Ties by WithBroomBefore (M, 16k, nieqing, wangxian, part 1 ‘Uninvited’, my bookmark)

To Break Free from the Night by OrdinaryRealities (T, 14k, jiang cheng & wei wuxian, wangxian)

rain falls and soaks into the earth by RoseThorne (T, 31k, wangxian, series in progress) - also a no war au

Zephyrs Blowing Below the Violet by Comfect (T, 65k, madam yu & everyone)

Rise of the Peacock by JustAWanderingBabbit (not rated, 45k, jin guangyao & jin zixuan, 3zun, xuanli, WIP)

impossible with two hands, no more impossible with one by Sour_Idealist (M, 34k, wangxian) - WWX, who lost his right hand to WLJ, has figured out how to serve as a qi conduit to JC.

someone else’s core is transferred:

and the other gold by ryfkah (G, 29k, wangxian, chengqing, WIP)

Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 105k, jiang siblings, wangxian, WIP)

~*~

10. Thank you for take your time to find fic for us. Can I ask you if there is any fic have a plot like Incense Burner 1? About Lan Wangji meeting Young Wei Ying his 18, or even when he become Yiling Laozu. If there is any r18 I would love it too-

Crack of Dawn by Shinocchi (E, 91k, wangxian) - time travel

Evermore by jardindesetoiles, KNBSnkLover (E, 10k, wangxian) - time travel, ‘(i dont remember how this one went, but according to my bookmark «i am shook»)’

~*~

11. Hey mojo, do you know any fics in which lwj confronts lxc about him calling wwx his 'only mistake'

~*~

12. Haiiii! I just wanna ask, do you perhaps know a fanfic where everyone has a crush on Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji/Jiang Cheng are very protective of him?

❤️ Resolutions by incendir (E, 204k, wangxian, 14 works, Part 5, warning for attempted sexual assault, my post)

Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 8k, wangxian, WIP)

See #4 in this Mood For post

~*~

13. Do you know if there are any MDZS fics that are Monarch Industry AUs or fics with a similar set-up?

~*~

14. mixing mythologies here, but have you ever come across a wangxian 'spirited away' AU?

sunbeams streaming through the leaves by tinycloverspot (G, 28k, wangxian)

the dragon boy by yukla (T, 3k, wangxian)

A Road to Somewhere by devilrin (not rated, 47k, zhuiyi, wangxian)

❤️ Castle in the Wastes by ailuridae (abigailnicole) (T, 41k, wangxian, my post) - Howl’s Moving Castle au, in case you wanna branch out

~*~

15. Hi momjo! I hope you had a fun trip! [I did, thank you!] I would like to know if you know of (15a) Some LXC & WWX friendship fics? They could be anything like good colleagues, or sharing an interest. Maybe this is how WWX meets LWJ. Something similar to leading tone but more focused on their friendship; and (15b) A fic where WWX & JC raise Yuan and JL together. Any universe, any canon. I just want to see the aggressive avuncular/dad energies combined in the best way. Bonus points if WWX is dealing with a disability. ~ @manaika-chan

15a

if wei wuxian was lan xichen’s friend first a tumblr fic by @shanastoryteller

Captain Wangxian by Bambii_baby0509 (T, 7k, lan xichen & wei wuxian, wangxxian, WIP)

15b

~*~

16. Hi mojo! This is my first time sending an ask. I love this blog so much and how much effort you put into each post! [Thank you!] I was hoping you could help me satisfy a very specific craving? Know of any fics where the juniors either witness sizhui reuniting with wwx when he tells him who he is or finding out? I think I’ve only read Not Yet (There As Needed) and I love it. Most other fics just have them knowing and I’d love to see the surprise at sizhui suddenly jumping and hugging him or hugging his leg etc. I just have a lot of feelings about wwx being his dad so I’d also welcome any recs with their relationship of father and son being important. ❤️🤍 thank you kindly for all you do!!!

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 11k, wangxian, my bookmark) - little bit angsty

❤️nevermore, nevermore by agloeian (T, 120k, wangxian, my post) - lsz time travels and has many feels about his parents

❤️Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, my bookmark) - another time travel with a lot of parent feels

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (not rated, 64k, wangxian) - it's not in Sizhui's POV but Jin Ling sure thinks his father/son relationship with WWX is important

~*~

17. Hey, do you have any fics with neurodivergent chars in them??? (OCD maybe? 👉👈 But I'm happy with anything) Even if not, I thank in advance!!! (I...hope I used this word right)

WWWWXD (What would Wei Wuxian Do?) by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 55k, wangxian) - autistic lwj

a new kind of silence by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 12k, wangxian, also many other fics by this author) - autistic lwj

11 fic recs under my #autistic coded character tag

please forgive my most passionate disruptions by pumpkinpaix (E, 63k, wangxian, my post) - OCD lwj

10 Things I Hate About Dating at Gusu Academy by KouriArashi (T, 19k, 3zun, wangxian, WIP) - autistic lwj

See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! by ScarlettStorm (E, 344k, wangxian) - autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx

❤️ in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 38k, wangxian, my bookmark) - adhd wwx

do not go gentle (teenagers scare the living shit out of me) by staranise (T, 2k, wen ning & wen qing, wei wuxian & wen ning) - developmentally disabled wn

Alliance of the Traveling Pants by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 82k, 3zun, wangxian, WIP) - autistic OC

~*~

18. can i get some FUNNY recommendations?? any other type of story doesn't matter, au doesnt matter, whatever. i just wanna laugh with wangxian <3

❤️ A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (M, 12k, zhuiling, wangxian, my post)

Bodega Love by cicer (T, 11k, wangxian)

❤️10 RMB lucky chickens by Raitelzen (T, 25k, zicheng, background wangxian, my post)

❤️The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, lan jingyi & wei wuxian, wangxian, my post)

❤️Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, wangxian, my post)

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 58k, wangxian)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner’s Association by Ariaste (M, 119k, xiyao, wangxian, series in progress)

Cut sleeve (m/m), slow burn, pining (lots of pining) by Lucky_Moony (T, 6k, wangxian, my post)

Standing Engagement by x_los (M, 18k, wangxian, chengqing, my post)

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

❤️Wangxian’s Time-Travelling Shenanigans by pupeez4eva (M, 16k, wangxian, my post)

my #humor tag narrowed down to about 50 with funny/hilarious/laugh)

❤️unabashed indecency by quags1re (T, 25k, WIP, my post)

Wangxian Tax Universe by adrian_kres, RoseThorne (T, 6k, wangxian, series in progress)

❤️Important Distinctions by nagi_schwarz (T, 5k, wangxian, my post here)

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 60k, no pairings)

❤️*yakety sax arrangement for guqin and xiao* by Mikkeneko (T, 5k, wangxian, part of series, my post)

Bestseller by pupeez4eva (M, 8k, wangxian)

The Sweetest Morsel to the Mouth That Ever Was Cooked in Hell by Silvarbelle (E, 15k, wangxian, my post) ... ***Inspired by @pakhnokh’s illustrated story here with a spicy addition here.

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 50k, wangxian, WIP)

what do you mean this goes in that by yeasting_laozu (nanthebread) (T, 10k, wangxian, WIP, my post)

~*~

19. Hai, mn. I'm in the mood for angsty fic. So did you know any fic (a) Wei Ying died and Lan Wangji live with regret for the rest of his life or maybe just Wei Ying never come back. (b) Wei Ying end up with other person aka lwj unrequited love for Wei Ying. If it's too specific and you can't find it that's okay. Thank you 💙

19a.

the place hidden amidst clouds by sasamelons (T, 24k, wangxian)

19b.

drivers license by AG1234VL (T, 12k, wwx/other, wangxian) - wwx ends up with another person in the end and lwj is sad

To Be Filial by Samstagram903 (E, 4k, wangxian, wwx/other)

~*~

20. Are there fics where wwx is lsz’s bio dad but lwj is the one who ends up adopting him

Red Bunny and Blue Bunny are Friends by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 6k, wangxian)

~*~

21. Eiyyo Mojo ✨. (a) Did anyone know a fic where Wei Ying is literally Jfm & yzy Son. Or (b) Wei Ying is the oldest son ? Most oldest than the rest ? Danke.

21a.

[spoiler alert] A Well-Heeled Man by littlelightbeams (E, 53k, wangxian, my post)

Boy With Luv by such_a_fangirl_for_that (E, 38k, wangxian, WIP)

21b.

After We Say This by TiredAndTired (T, 10k, wangxian, series in progress, here are the tumblr ficlets that inspired it)

~*~

22. Hi! I would've to trouble you again. This request may sound weird. Could you recommend me some fanfic of Bichen x suibian pairing? If there is any.

#Bichen/Suibian tag on AO3

swords, i guess by victortor (T, 27k, wangxian, my post) has wangxian as sword spirits

~*~

23. For the In The Mood, i'm looking for a fic with canon-era wangxian where they both raise a-yuan? Like, instead of coming back into his life later, wwx keeps raising him with lwj? Preferably not time travel! ~ @zenodotus-xxiv

❤️The Yiling Wei Clan by scifigeek14 (G, 45k, wangxian, my post)

Life by scifigeek14 (T, 66k, wangxian, my post)

Until It’s Dark by suzvoy (M, 121k, wangxian, my post)

See answers to #3 in this Mood For post

~*~

24. Hey! I just reread By Any Other Name because of your post and I was wondering if you knew of any fics where wwx is similarly like a motherly figure for the juniors and super affectionate? Thanks!

❤️Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 45k, wangxian, my post, WIP)

Many stories under my #teacher wei wuxian tag have him being very nurturing to the junior posse

~*~

25. Are there any fics similar to medium blues?

When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (T, 75k, wangxian, my bookmark) - a modern detective au

these dreams, like ashes (float away) by AStarlightMonbebe (T, 161k, wangxian, xueyu, my post) - modern detective au

Moonlight as My Guide by BromeliadDreams (M, 32k, wangxian, my post) - modern cultivators/detective

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

#wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian fic finder #in the mood for a fic #i haven't read these unless noted #crowd-sourcing #fic finding #fic finder

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redfurrycat · 11 months ago

Text

🤠🐂🐓Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Vol. II) Fic Recs🐓🐂🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Alecjbi, Chase_acow, Dalearden, Dames_for_jamesbarnes, Dandeliondick, Davidbyrne, Earthangel_44, Ginnydear, Haridwar, Heir2slytherin, Kakyoins__wife, KazanskIce, Kiddi, MerielTLA, Nightwrite24, Owls4ever, Popandpizazz, Sceld, Sycamoretree, Thereisnocowboyemoji, Totoroboiii, Vannral, VarjoRuusu, Writerofthelorde.

> Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Vol. I)

Art Bonus - I was cravin' the visual so badly I had to add these delightful pieces of art (don't hesitate to point others my way, I'm SURE I missed some 🤗🥰)

Aran’s Bullriding!Hangster - Aran’s Hat Rule!Hangster - Beezel’s (Smutty) Hat Rule!Hangster - Beezel’s Cowboy!Jake - Gray‘s Barbie Cowboy!Jake - Gray‘s Cowboy!Jake - Gray's Cowboy!Jake & Saloon Owner!Bradley - Indiana's Cowboy Hats' Hangster - Megan’s Cowboy!Jake - Mustasekittens’ Cowboy!Jake - Storm’s Cowboy!Jake - Storm’s Cowboys!Hangster.

The Exes of Texas Are Upon You by chase_acow {M}

While trying to enjoy their day off, a bet comes back to haunt Hangman forcing Rooster into a tight spot.

cowboy, take me away by ginnydear {T}

jake has a cowboy hat he doesn't just let anyone wear. bradley takes that as a challenge.

Show me the way home, honey! by thereisnocowboyemoji {E}

It’s perched on one of the posts of their poster bed frame and it drives Bradley absolutely crazy.

riding into the sunset with you by alecjbi {E}

While searching through the group's old Facebook posts, Jake finds a photo of Bradley that he can't seem to get over.

Nickelback isn't Romantic, Jake. by dandeliondick {T}

When Jake drinks everyone remembers that he's from Texas and one poorly placed bet from Fanboy leads to everyone in the bar learning Jake is from Texas and well...Bradley is just trying to make it through the night without jumping the ex-asshole.

"I bet on after Texas, it makes him soft." by dandeliondick {T}

The other man raised a brow before reaching up for the bottle Jake pulling it backwards making Jake fall into his chest with a huff. Bradley laughed as Jake honest to God pouted full bottom lip out, “Bradley Bradshaw stop being a dick.” Bradley kept ahold of the beers as he sat down making a dramatic show of getting comfortable before turning his smirk up at Jake, “Well, take a seat and you can have your beer.” He expected Jake to grab his beer and walk off and he nearly jumped when Jake instead swung around and settled onto Bradley’s thighs. Jake leaned back against his chest and laid his head on Bradley’s left shoulder as he snagged his beer from his loose grip.

A Barbecue by Any Other Name by owls4ever {T}

The second time their leaves all line up, Mav's in charge of hosting. Despite himself, Jake's excited when Mav announces he'll throw them a barbecue. What could be better than a day of hanging out with each other and eating good food? Only, turns out Jake and Mav don't expect the same things when it comes to throwing a barbecue.

Pressed Sunflowers by Sceld {T}

His smug expression is the final nail in the coffin for Jake, who is doing a fucking terrible job at hiding his outright shock. “You’re… Good at that,” he says slowly, pretending it’s not doing something for him. or; Jake spends the night at Bradley's place and learns more than he anticipated.

Forever your begonia by MerielTLA {T}

“This is not for me.” Mickey grinned like a fucking maniac as he held out a small envelope for everyone to see, pointing at the signature in it. Jake. The blond felt his world tilt as he frowned at the offending four letters of his name. What. The. Fuck. He pulled the card away from the other´s hand as he looked at the fancy lettering in horrified amazement. “Oh my GOD! Bagman has an admirer?!” Paybay yelled Or Jake Hangman Seresin had never gotten flowers...until he did.

With His Head Held High by dalearden {T}

Jake was born and raised in Texas and he knows a thing or two about guns. When Hard Deck is raided by a band of thugs and all inside taken hostage, Jake gets his hands on a rifle that Penny keeps under the counter and shows them exactly why they shouldn’t mess up with his Team. And Rooster may or may not get hard by seeing how precise Jake’s aim is.

Rack 'Em Up, Big Blonde by Earthangel_44 {E}

Bradley becomes a regular at a Hooters to spend three hours with a blonde server with an unfortunate taste in football teams. Along the way, Bradley might have developed feelings. AKA: Jake is a Hooter's girl and Bradley is his regular.

First Thanksgiving as a couple by Writerofthelorde {G}

Bradley and Jake live together in Bradley's old house, and they're getting everything ready for their family members. They are both nervous. Jake's parents are vastly different from Pete and he is worried they won't get along. Bradley is worried because he had been doing this holiday alone for sixteen years and he's not sure how to act. That and he has some very special papers to give Mav today, and what if he doesn't want to sign them...? The day is a mess, it's loud and hysterical and soft and full of tears.

Rolling Hills and Stormy Skies by VarjoRuusu {E}

(Not Texan!Jake - but this fic fits the vibe! <3)

Everyone thinks Jake Seresin is from Texas. Something he doesn't bother to correct, he just enjoys when his friends try and pin down exactly where his family ranch is, north, south, it's near Dallas, no it's near Austin. He sips his beer and lets them guess until the topic changes. He elbows Rooster in the side when the other man can't stop snickering because only Rooster knows Jake Seresin's ranch is in Montana. -Or, a tale of Bradley and Jake.

bluebonnet boy by dames_for_jamesbarnes {T}

"Let's go see 'em," he says. starts putting his foot on the brake, slows them down to a crawl after checking his rearview. Bradley glances back at him with wide eyes, but Jake just gives him a little smile as they roll to a stop. "C'mon. They won't bite." "But your parents might," he says to Jake, concern creeping into his tone. Jake's fingers tighten a bit on the wheel at the mention of them, even as he puts the truck in park. Bradley always plays at not being nervous, but this is different. This is meeting the folks. "Aren't they expecting us?" It's the sight of the purpley petals once more, the way they seem to shimmer and shine that allows a deep breath. "Yeah, but we're almost home," he tells the other man, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. "And... I think they'll understand." -The bluebonnets make Jake feel more than sentimental, memories of a time when he could just forget. He's glad he gets the chance to do it again with Bradley.

I thought he was older by Popandpizazz {_}

Jake recently moved to California and started dating Bradley Bradshaw and for the first time in months he’s going to see his closest friend

darling, i ain't even worried by heir2slytherin {_}

Jake Seresin did not get jealous. He didn’t have to. He was completely secure in himself, thank you very much. He knew that he was the best there was, in every aspect. He knew that nobody could even compare to him. He knew that no matter how many dates Rooster, no matter how many drinks he accepted at the bar, they were always going to end up together. Of course, he was sure of himself, but the one true thing he knew for absolute damn sure was that he and Rooster were always going to be the ones to walk into the sunset together. He didn’t need to get jealous. That was no point. ... Or, Rooster keeps going out with people who will never be as good as Hangman, and it is most certainly not killing Hangman from the inside.

Wear the Hat, Ride the Cowboy by kakyoins__wife {T}

Jake won't stop wearing obnoxiously big cowboy hats and Bradley decides to steal it.

dirty dance floors and dreams of naughtiness by davidbyrne {E}

Bradley reaches over and grabs Jake’s hat, lifting it off his head. He settles it on his own, winking at Jake as he does so. Jake smirks. “Getting into the country aesthetic?” he teases, spinning them easily. Jake admires the way Bradley follows his guidance naturally. “Nah,” Bradley answers, keeping his eyes trained on Jake. “Just testing out if a rumor I heard is true.” “What rumor?” Jake asks, crooking an eyebrow. “Steal the hat, ride the cowboy.”

If you find yourself thinkin' About that boy from East Texas by Kiddi {M}

“Funnily enough,” he decided to say, hoping he was reading the situation correctly, “this isn't the first sunrise we’ve had, is it?” Jake chuckled softly and made a small noise, “no it is not,” he agreed, “just as pretty though,” “No matter where I go,” he retraced old conversations, “the sunrise always feels like back home.” They settled in comfortable silence for a bit before Jake spoke, “it's been a while since we’ve seen each other,” he said, looking down at the sand, “Spain was it?” he looked over at Rooster, “the last time I saw you?” A little bit of shame and guilt rose in his chest, neither of them kept in touch after Spain but Rooster always felt like it was his fault, “yea, it was,” he nodded, “you haven't changed a bit though, still as annoying as ever,” he laughed, and so did Jake, “but you’re still one hell of a pilot,” Or Bradley and Jake haven't seen each other since running away from their feelings and now they have to realize that they never really went away in the first place

Somebody Sighs Who Is Not In Disguise Anymore by Totoroboiii {E}

Bradley doesn’t connect the dots that maybe Jake was his high school crush

change is alright by haridwar {M}

Jake bet fifty-fifty on whether he was going to enjoy this conversation and stepped up to the passenger side door just as the window rolled down. He was greeted with a warm, smiling, moustachioed face which took him off guard. Though Jake didn’t recognise the driver, something about him verged upon familiar. His smile faltered as his gaze flitted over Jake’s face, eyes tightening in a way Jake didn’t want to overanalyse, but it made him seem no less friendly overall. “Where you headed?” “Closest ranch,” Jake replied, trying to keep his tone neutral as he made the snap decision to not identify himself for reasons he would rather not think about. or... little bit of homecoming, whole lot of drama

show me a slow ride, cowboy by vannral {E}

”Bradley reaches, takes the hat very gently from Jake and places it on his own head. Oh. Jake’s heart is about to burst wide open through the seams.” In which Jake wears a Stetson and Bradley comes down from the perch for once. Or, the obligatory ’steal the hat, ride the cowboy’-fic.

All I want (for Christmas) by KazanskIce {T}

“It’s… almost midnight,” Jake stutters, hoping that his time estimation is right. It’s been a couple of hours since the start of the party and he hasn’t been checking his watch. “What about it?” “You know what they say… about kissing someone at midnight.” Bradley laughs shortly, but it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be mean. When he stops, his eyes return to Jake. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t matter, because it’s not New Year’s Eve,” he says. He’s either not getting the point or purposely trying to throw Jake off.

From the horse's mouth by sycamoretree {M}

Jake hears that there’s trouble with his horse back home. Bradley misunderstands hugely. It has an impact on both of them.

cowboy like me by nightwrite24 {G}

“Why weren’t you in love with me the whole time, asshole?” Bradley feels the doey-eyed look in his eyes melt into downright annoyance. “Well, maybe it took me a fucking minute to figure it out, Jake!” Bradley writes songs for the girls he falls in love with.

#Texan Jake Hangman Seresin (Vol.II) Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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sometimes-i-write-good · 2 years ago

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¿Quieres bailar conmigo?

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x gn!pilotreader [no use of y/n]

2.6k || Fanboy comes home from leave a day early to surprise you, but you surprise him instead.

===

Genre: fluff

CW: overload of charisma

Author's Note: Fanboy is my favorite Top Gun: Maverick character and I’ve already read everything in existence about him, so I have to take matters into my own hands. || cross-posted on ao3

===

The first thing Mickey heard when he turned the lock to your shared apartment was a breakup song playing loudly. Punctuated by your passionate cries. In some form of a miracle, you managed to miss every note, which Fanboy took as a sign that your heart was not truly broken and José José merely possessed you with the urge to put on the performance of a lifetime.

He slipped quietly into the flat. Taking his time to unlace his shoes, set down his bag, and softly clicked the door shut behind him. You were not alerted in the slightest. Too busy in the kitchen stirring and shouting, “Qué triste luce todo sin ti. Los mares de las playas se van.”

Every other line you would spin, working your feet through a quick box step with the occasional fling of your spoon when the emotion built. “Se tiñen los colores de gris. Hoy todo es soledad.” you stepped backwards, closer and closer to Mickey with your hips swaying in a way that made his uniform fit a bit too tight.

“Media naranja…” he let his voice trail off, soft enough for you to hear him. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt the moment with a spike of adrenaline. He’d tried his best, but he never was good at subtlety when it came to you.

“Holy fuck!” You let out a startled scream, hand coming up to clutch at your heaving chest. “Mickey, I thought I asked you to stop doing that.”

“Aw, mi vida,” he laughed, stepping closer to grab you by the hips and pull you close to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stick your bottom lip out at him in a pout. Far enough out that he can’t help the way his gaze lingers on it. “Don’t think you can kiss it better,” you tell him.

Fanboy hums. He brings a hand up to trail the back of his index finger down your cheek so that he can tilt your chin up a bit further. “Can’t I?” It’s fun to watch your reaction to the question, feeling the slightest strain against his fingers and you try to move closer to kiss him.

“Mickey,” you whine.

He closes the gap between you. “Mi cielo.” His voice is low, raspy. All his attempted teasing seems to take more out of him than you and he’d been away for far too long to let his moment draw out any longer. Fanboy cupped your cheek then pressed his lips against yours, filling in all the passion he’d left you without while he was away.

The last kiss he gave you before he’d left was quick. A domestic kind of peck married couples gave one another as they ran out the door for work. In a way, Mickey had convinced himself on the plane to Virginia Beach, that is exactly who the two of you were. You’d been together so long that being moved around from base to base wasn’t the heartbreaking news that it had once been but rather a fact of life the two of you had to live with. Still, it didn’t excuse the way Fanboy had let his own being late impact the last memory of him you were left with before he’d walked out the door. It was something he fully planned to make up for today.

His tongue ran over your bottom lip greedily. Mickey could, and had, memorized every corner of your mouth and it would never be enough to truly satiate him. The moment your lips parted for him Fanboy jumped on the opportunity to run his tongue along the side of yours. He moved with a confidence you had only ever been able to bring out of him.

You hum in satisfaction, fingers going to hook in the belt loops of his uniform. Sure of yourself. A goddess in control of his futile sense of humanity. Freedom and a prison all in one. There could be worse fates than being locked onto your lips for all eternity. Some Fanboy didn’t care enough to explore. Not when he had your body pressed against him and his lips bruised by the shape of yours.

“Mi cielo.” Mickey murmurs against your lips when he goes to take a breath. A kiss pressed to each of the corners of your mouth. “You have no clue what you do to me.” And then, as though you knew full well what you did to him, you slid your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to your lips once again.

You’re the one to pull away after a few more blissful moments of kissing. Mickey expected you to be. Yet he still had to take a moment, pressing his forehead to yours, hand cupped around your cheek, with his eyes closed. If he had the choice, the two of you would be in the bedroom right now but you had been in the middle of cooking, and he was hard pressed to pull you away from a task once you’d begun. “I love you.”

Mickey doesn’t need to open his eyes to know there was a goofy grin on your face. “I love you more, darling.” The words brought a heat up the back of his neck, settling on his ears. Years into this relationship and you still could fluster him. Mickey opened his eyes, pressed one more swift kiss to your lips, then leaned back to look at you.

For a moment it felt like the two of you were plunged back into the moment of your first kiss. Two kids in love staring at one another with smiles of disbelief. Fanboy knew a part of him would always be stuck in that feeling whenever the two of you kissed. There was no conceivable explanation for how he got so lucky to be able to kiss you whenever he pleased. To be able to call you his everything.

“Mi vida, when I came in… is that really how you’d react in the case of an intruder?” He asked quietly in a poor attempt to cover a soft laugh. “Scream your head off first, figure out a way to fight later?”

You roll your eyes at him and, even in your moments of playful aggravation, Mickey can’t help the way his pulse quickens. He uses his thumb to trace hearts on your waist. A way

“I’m a pilot, mi sol. There’s a reason I do all my fighting in the air.”

“I can teach you to fight.” When you laugh, he pulls you tight to him. “I’m serious. It’s easy, mi vida, a lot like dancing.”

“I’m a horrid dancer,” you tell him. Mickey shakes his head. You have the tendency to be overtly hard on yourself, but he’d seen you when he had walked through that door. Stunning, if a little out of practice. He knew that if he were to tell you that you’d only dismiss the idea entirely claiming that he thought everything you did was stunning and, while you wouldn’t exactly be wrong, he didn’t want you to shy away from his next offer, “Dance with me?”

“Right now? I’ve got dinner on the stove.”

In a swift series of steps, Mickey had you clinging onto him so that he could position the pair of you right in front of the stove. He turned off the stove with a self-satisfied smile. For every excuse you’d planned to make, Mickey had already compiled a thousand reasons why not to worry. It’s how the two of you had always been. Fanboy had lived up to his callsign in more ways than one. He followed you everywhere fixing one problem or the next, easing your fears without you having to so much as ask. A love language, people would call it, but Mickey must have been the only person on earth who could speak it.

“You’re insufferable.” Your words make him grin. The radio starts up with a new song. “Tú” by Los Elegantes de Jerez, one of his favorites to request at the Hard Deck when Penny had live bands instead of just letting the jukebox play the same music over and over each night. He’d yet to convince you to come out and dance with him, but Phoenix was always willing. Otherwise he was more than content to dance on his own, throwing out flirtatious remarks to try and persuade you to join him.

He steps back just enough to take you all in. You let out a confused laugh. “What?”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo?”

“Mickey…”

“¿Quieres bailar conmigo, mi cielo?” He asks again with a bit more seriousness behind it and, when you don’t jump on the opportunity he adds, “Cocodrilo que duerme es cartera.”

“Fine, Mick. I’ll dance with-” You’re cut off with a squeak as Fanboy pulls you close. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, hand resting at the small of your back, and placed his left knee so that it rested against the inside of your right knee. It isn’t nearly as close as Mickey would like to be. He longed to crack open his chest and allow you to crawl inside to take residence in his heart so that the two of you physically portrayed Fanboy’s constant state of existence.

He brought his other arm up with your hand in his and waited patiently as you wrapped your arm around his neck. “Rest your weight into your hips.” He drags his gaze over your face, watching you calculate the right way to stand. Your analytical nature made him fall in love with you. The way your tongue would drag along your lips in deep concentration. It made it hard for him to remember what the hell he was saying in the first place. “The norteño means we have to keep our torsos connected.”

You settled your weight, pressing against him, and Mickey’s breath left him in a nervous exhale. “Not so confident anymore are we, Fanboy?” You laugh, and he ducked down slightly to press a kiss to the hollow beneath your ear.

“You make me crazy,” he said and started moving without giving you a warning. If he had told you to concentrate on the tempo you were bound to overthink and start lifting your feet instead of shuffling in wide arcs wherever Mickey led you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to stop him to start counting the beats he added, “we’re going to to step and swing our hips on each beat.”

Growing up his mother used to tell him how important it was to know how to dance. That it was the easiest way to find your other half that way. A perfect complement. Each move followed his lead. Right and then left. Two halves of a whole collapsed in an embrace Mickey never wanted to free himself from.

“Tú, solamente tú,” he sang into your ear with the fondness of someone discovering affection for the first time. A soulmate connected by the chorus of a song. “No necesito de nadie. Ni puedo dejar de mirarte.” You pressed against him, biting down roughly on your lip, and he could see the tender concentration as you counted in your head. “Hey,” he said, “eyes on me.”

Only, when you lifted your gaze to him, Mickey captured your lips in a tender kiss not once breaking step. These movements were second nature. Natural as ducking and dodging during a dogfight. He knew exactly where to let his smooth movements whirl him next. If he weren’t feeling so selfish, he might have included a spin just to hear your laughter. A sound as weightless as the way you moved against him. Mickey did not miss the way you playfully ground against him with each sway of your hips. The innocent confusion on your face while you watched his breath hitch. His hand stayed pressed to the small of your back. Drew you closer on each beat. Your hand on the base of his neck twirled the hair that needed to be cut before he went back. The gesture made him weak in the knees.

The song had finished minutes ago, but the two of you were still moving. He had been caught in the trance of your everything. Your smile, pulled back with mischievous joy; your eyes, how they lingered on his lips as he sang along; and your hands, how they clung to him even though he had no plans on letting you stray away from him during your dance.

He wanted to twirl the two of you out of this apartment. Take you to the Hard Deck. He wanted to call everyone on the Dagger Crew to the bar. Hell, he’d call anyone in off the streets to watch the two of you dance. Show everyone that you were his. Only he could draw this dreamy smile out of you. Only he could pull you out of your own head. Only he could love you like this.

You leaned forward to kiss him. “Thanks, darling. Can I finish dinner?” He relented. You, with great difficulty, managed to take a step back. Only to come back and kiss him with a ferocity that parted his lips almost immediately.

A different kind of dance began. Your tongue in his mouth, searching desperately for the words he had sung earlier. All you could pull out of him were gentle groans of pleasure. Mickey’s hands gripped at your waist. You were entirely in control. Each step forward led him backwards until he was pressed up against the counter.

Abandoning your hips, Fanboy moved his hands up to your hair. He had always learned in moments like this to let you believe that you could bring him to his knees. That thought might hold more truth to it that he cared to admit. But he could always slide his hands down to cup your face. Your weakness. He would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more room to slip his tongue into your mouth, and expose your neck enough for him to trail kisses downwards. So that when he did get onto his knees for you it was entirely of his own violation.

You noticed the change. You noticed everything when you cared to. “Mickey.” Your voice was muffled by his tongue tracing the shape of your bottom lip. “Mickey.” Once more he captured his own name and you had to pull away to say, “I have to make dinner.”

He sighed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I’m hungry.”

With one final peck he watched as you made your way back over to the stove. “I’ll have to make something more. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

There was no hint of annoyance in your voice. Fanboy could see you bite back a smile. He longed to turn you around to kiss you, but instead let you turn on the gas and stir the soup you’d been making humming José José.

“You do realize ‘El Triste’ is a breakup song, mi amor?” Mickey said, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you flush against him as you stirred the soup on the stove.

“When you’re gone I like to pretend I’m heartbroken.”

“And when I’m home?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “What do you like to pretend when I’m holding you like this?”

He could feel the sigh work its way out of your chest. You flicked off the gas once more. “I like to pretend that we’ll get a chance to eat dinner, but…”

Mickey laughed. “But?”

“But,” you said, “I think we’re ordering in tonight.”

“Are we now?” You spin around to wrap your arms around his neck, grinding up against him, and pulling away with a smug smile. “Oh, mi ciela, vamos a bailar.”

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ao3feed-spirk · 2 years ago

Text

K'diwa: A Steamy Novel of Interspecies Romance, by Jim Kirk

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/41642709

by branwyn, LetsGetMetaPhysical_Physical

Podfic Version:

Jim wrote a romance novel just to prove he could. Then someone leaked it on the public Starfleet server, and suddenly his embarrassingly smutty and sentimental Human/Vulcan love story is all over campus. Luckily for Jim, no one knows that he’s the author. Unluckily for Jim, someone forwarded the novel to the staff of the Vulcan embassy. Now, every Vulcan in San Francisco is reassessing the logical merits of taking Human bondmates.

Spock reads a Human/Vulcan romance novel because he can hardly avoid it. Suddenly, he is consumed by the need to locate the author, ascertain their wellbeing, and instruct them in the way of Vulcan mating bonds. Luckily for Spock, it doesn't take long to identify the author as Jim Kirk. Unluckily for Spock, Jim is unconscious and surrounded by interested Vulcans who also read the book.

Words: 28, Chapters: 1/22, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Original Vulcan Character(s), Christopher Pike, Gaila (Star Trek: Alternate Original Series), Nyota Uhura, Sarek (Star Trek), Amanda Grayson

Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Gaila/Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Additional Tags: secret romance author Jim Kirk, Smart James T. Kirk, Possessive Behavior, Past Abuse, fanboy Spock, Academy Era, Secret Identity, fake novel excerpts, Vulcan Language, Vulcan Culture, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Jim is a sad sweet bottom and Spock can't stand it, Past Rape/Non-con, Vulcan foster family, Chris "Captain Dad" Pike, BAMF Gaila (Star Trek: Alternate Original Series), BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, telepathic assault, black Vulcans, Adoption, past intimate partner abuse

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/41642709

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #spirk

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twosroos · 2 years ago

Text

hello, nurse!

chapter two: welcome to the danger zone

( bradley “rooster” bradshaw x oc, eden benjamin )

(previous chapter) (next chapter)

Admiral Solomon makes a visit to Eden's home and she ends up witnessing the genuine stupidity of some of America's finest.

word count: 5403

notable characters: amelia benjamin, pete “maverick” mitchell, bradley “rooster” bradshaw, solomon “warlock” bates, natasha “phoenix” trace, jake “hangman” seresin, mickey “fanboy“ garcia, reuben “payback” fitch

tws: cursing, near death experiences, self-doubt, arguments

ao3 link! (features authors notes :D!)

Sunlight burned against Eden’s eyelids, waking her sharply as she whined, rolling to the side and hiding her face in her pillows as she squirmed down into her blankets. She grunted, mewling sharply at the headache rumbling behind her eyelids and thrumming against her eyes. As she sat there, she contemplated what the hell she’d done last night. She’d only had a few drinks, and she was very much not a lightweight, so she had absolutely no idea what type of beer Hangman had given her that had knocked her out so quickly.

She also hadn’t been watching her drink very well.

“Fuck.” That was probably it. She moaned, sitting up slowly so as to not throw up as the world spun for a bit. Once it stopped, and she felt a bit more normal, she looked at her bedside table. Hastily, she grabbed the lukewarm cup of water that was there and going to drink it, before her eyes caught on something small and oblong behind it, and a pink post-it note on the table. She blinked a few times against the harsh sun, bringing a hand up to block it as she leaned down to read the note.

‘Nice guy brought you back last night, I gave you some painkillers and Amelia left you a Gatorade in the fridge. I’m cooking breakfast downstairs, or lunch depending on when you wake up. Leaving for the bar at two just an FYI. Love you, Ma.’

Taking the pills in her mouth, she chugs the cup of water and takes a deep breath as she goes to stand up– and then spots something that makes her head physically tilt. A jacket lays on her wooden floor. She slowly stands, still wearing her jeans and t-shirt from the night before, and she leans down slowly to pick it up as her head pounds from her hangover. As she stands from bending down to grab the jacket, she slowly unfolds the leather jacket and she thumbs across it, realizing it's a Navy Aviator's jacket. She’s seen them a thousand times at The Hard Deck, so she hopes she's right as she flips it to the front to find the engraved name tag.

‘Bradshaw’ it reads.

“Fuck!” She exclaims, bringing a hand to her head when it pounds from her volume, “There’s no way.”

Three knocks hit her door a minute or so later as she stands there, stunned, “Eden?”

“Amelia–!” Eden rushes over to her door, swings it open, grabs her sister's hoodie, and rips her into her room before shutting and locking her door immediately. Amelia stumbles around a bit, turning to her sister with an irritated look before seeing the bewildered yet apprehensive look on Eden that makes her stop in her tracks.

“Hi?” Amelia says, blinking away her confusion as she stands in the middle of the room, “Good morning, or something?”

Eden laughs, “Yeah, good morning, uhm– I might have slept with someone last night.”

“Uh… too much information.” Amelia sits down on Eden’s bet, “I was home all night, and it didn’t happen here–”

“Now that’s too much info for me, but kinda reassuring..?” Eden chuckles, turning to grab her deodorant and her perfume, beginning to apply both excessively, afraid she smells like alcohol, before she grabs a new shirt from her closet Amelia covers her eyes and waits as Eden throws on a new outfit and kicks the old one into her hamper across the room, “I mean, I should get my period within the next like two weeks or something… so I’ll check then.”

“That’s great, totally a wonderful plan,” Amelia rolls her eyes with a soft laugh, “And Eden, you couldn’t have waited for me to leave to change?”

Eden nearly trips as she shoves a pair of pink dress pants on, and she turns back to Amelia with an incredulous look, “If I’m in bed later than noon, Mom’ll yell at me.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but it’s only like seven-thirty. What do you remember from last night?” Amelia asks, before pausing when there's a harsh but firm knock on the front door. It doesn’t take an idiot to realize that whoever’s knocking means serious business, and it makes Eden’s stomach drop. Would Bradley be upset about his jacket? No, there's no way. She stands up, buckling her pants and adjusting them before she turns to Amelia.

“Nothing much,” Eden huffs, grabbing mints and popping them in her mouth, “who’s here? Amelia – peek out my window.”

“Uh–” Amelia crawls across the bed, her hair bouncing in its ponytail as she lifts her head up high enough to see. Eden moves across the room to her vanity, quickly shoving concealer over blemishes, smacking setting powder on top, and hastily applying her blush before Amelia can see out the window.

“Mom already invited him in.” Amelia sits down on the bed and not even a moment can pass, though Eden has enough time to start her eyeliner before there are soft knocks on the bedroom door.

Penny speaks in a very, very delicate tone, “Eden, honey, I know you’re awake… Uhm, a nice man from the Navy is here to talk to you?”

“I’ll be right down, Mom!” Eden calls back and Penny says okay before she's quickly rushing back down the stairs and asking whoever’s there if he wants something to drink. Amelia grins with a dorky smile, quickly slipping out of the door and making her way down the stairs as Eden rushes to finish getting herself ready at her vanity, rubbing her hand against its chipped painted surface and huffing under her breath when she feels like her mascara just looks off but not knowing how to fix it. She opts for curling them one more time and pushing them around with her fingers until they look decent enough she feels confident to leave her room and face whoever is in her living room.

Though it's not someone she knows, and he stands with a gentle yet rough around the-edges smile and states, “Doctor Benjamin, it’s an honor. I’m Admiral Solomon from Naval Air Station in Miramar.”

“I– the honor is all mine, sir!” Eden beams, shaking his hand and he laughs.

“A firm grip.” He comments, “Come sit, I just have a few questions for you, miss.”

Eden nods, quickly taking a seat in the plush chair she can remember watching hundreds of movies in growing up. Though now, her stomach twists in anxiety. Had she done something wrong by flirting with Bradley? Was she in the wrong by even trying to befriend the Naval Pilots? She hopes not, they’d all been really nice, even whilst drunk. But her stomach plummets at the fact that there is currently a Naval Air Pilot’s jacket laying on her bed, and she’d probably accidentally sprayed it with her perfume while getting ready.

Oh god, had Bradley gotten hurt or something? Was she the last person to talk to him?

“So, I heard from a few different cadets who made their way back from The Hard Deck last night that they’d met quite an interesting teacher..?” He hums, folding his hands neatly in his lap like he had absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s clear that he’s in complete control of the conversation here, but his light tone makes Eden even wearier. What the hell was even going on?

“That’s most likely me, I ran into Bradley Bradshaw quite a few times that night–” She stuttered, trying to think of a way to derail the conversation from Bradley, “But, uhm, how can I help you, sir?”

He communicates plainly, “Have you ever thought of having another job?”

“No– well, sorry–” Eden sits back, letting herself fall into the safety of the old couch cushions, “Sir, I just– I’m a teacher at Point Loma, and my kids just turned in all of their end projects which I’ve been working hard on helping them with, so I’ve been stuck in teaching mode for the past few weeks. I couldn’t just get up and leave now.”

“Point Loma is one of the most highly regarded schools in the area.” Admiral Solomon drones, “didn’t you have to submit a bunch of references and portfolios?”

“Yeah, I had to submit multiple references from old teachers, my resume, letters from old teachers and bosses, and I had multiple interviews and they had me do a practice lesson with their faculty, twice.” She explains, “and then drug tests, state testing I have to pass, and a lot of teachers sitting in and observing my class and reporting any issues to my superintendent.”

“So, you’re obviously a wonderful teacher, Miss Benjamin. Which is why I’m here,” Admiral Solomon straightens up, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing before opening them, “The Navy is offering you a position to teach and be a nurse at Top Gun.”

“What?” She blanks. Admiral Solomon sighed gently, sitting back against the plush cushions fully, giving himself a more relaxed posture.

“The Navy needs a real teacher to help one of our more… Rowdy pilots wrestle and teach a group of pilots for an extraordinarily important mission. It’s very rare for us to outsource like this, but we are genuinely in need of some help, miss Benjamin.” he folds his hands, “do you understand?”

“Sir, do you not have other nurses or teachers? I just… my students are really counting on me.” He slides a file towards her as she continued ranting, “I’ve applied to Miramar a few times, but I haven't been accepted yet. What… what changed it?”

“We didn't need a Flight Surgeon for any missions at that time-- but now we do. You’ll be paid our yearly salary in a few months, and if we decide to keep you employed we will continue to reward you handsomely. You’ll be able to live on base for free, or be provided with free transportation to and from the base…” He continued to list all of the too-good-to-be-true benefits of the job and Eden sits there, biting her nails and twiddling her thumbs. When Admiral Solomon notices, he gives her a gentle look before resuming his tangent.

“How about I bring you to the base so you can see what it’s all about, and we can let you pick from there?” He leans so his elbows rest on his knees, “They’ve started their first day, and I would like to bring you down so you can look. From there, you can talk to Maverick– the instructor, and maybe some of the students, since they’re closer to your age.”

She nods, recognizing Maverick's name as the first guy she'd talked to at the bar last night, “I’ll try it, sir, but there is no promise that I’ll stay.”

“We can sort it out later, and there’s no commitment that needs to be made now.” He stands up, wiping his hands off on the fabric of his pants as if he’s sweating, then he holds out a hand for a handshake, which Eden accepts as she stands up.

“I understand, Doctor Benjamin, why don’t you come with me, then?”

The base was oddly hot, probably from the sun beating on the black runway, which made Eden kinda wish she had worn a dress instead of her pink and white suit (Her students loved the outfit, which was probably why she put it on as a first impression.) They walked calmly across the base, her white heels clicking against the concrete in a quicker beat than the soft scrape of Admiral Solomon’s shoe soles, he was much taller than her anyway so she wasn't surprised she had to speed up a bit.

“Here’s where you’ll find the classes.” He says, finishing up his little tour. When Eden looks across the small hanger they walked into, she can see various students all listening intently to the man— Maverick, who’s teaching upfront, or more so instructing about how if they fuck up this mission they’ll probably die. From either missiles that will automatically lock on to kill them, or other planes in the air, or by crashing in the ravine they need to go through.

So… that’s promising, she assumes.

She takes a moment to study each student and realizes that they’re all the pilots from the bar last night. Phoenix sits next to Bob with Fanboy and Payback behind them, and Coyote behind Fanboy, then Hangman sits across from Rooster, and some other students that she can slightly remember the names of, and some she’d only seen in passing last night. Not that she even remembers all of last night anyway.

“Excuse me, Captain Mitchell, if I may interject.” Admiral Solomon announces, making his way over with Eden in tow. They walk through the lines of tables, and Eden tries to keep her gaze level, not looking around at… pretty much everyone she’d been drunk with at the bar. And now they’re all sitting there and staring at her.

“Who’s that with you, Hello Kitty?” Maverick comments, a confused look in his eyes as he lowers his hand from whatever he was explaining about a high climb out of some ravine.. Or maybe it was a crater? She wasn’t paying attention, she probably should be.

“I’m Doctor Benjamin.” Eden steps up to stand next to Admiral Solomon, sliding her sunglasses on top of her head, “what stick do you have shoved up there, Mitchell?”

The cadets behind her laughed and Maverick grinned, a sort of playful ‘oh fuck off’ smile on his lips. But also a recognition, like Eden had passed some sort of unknown test. Admiral Solomon laughs, placing a hand on Eden’s shoulder lightly, before squeezing it, and now she feels like she definitely passed some sort of like… mini-hazing ritual or something. What the hell was this all about? Genuinely?

“Doctor Benjamin here is going to be observing your first day of lessons, and if she chooses to, she will be joining Captain Mitchell in teaching you guys for the mission.” Admiral Solomon walks her up to the podium where Maverick stands next to a large board with a video of a plane flying up. Maverick grins with a slight bite to his lip, and Eden doesn’t like the face he’s making immediately.

“Welcome to the team, Benjamin.” He says.

After the debriefing ends, the pilots are instructed to go up into their planes and essentially try to lock onto Maverick before he could get a lock on their jet. At the base, Eden was to watch from the ground, just in case there needed to be any sort of medical assistance, and just to see what piloting was all about. She hoped there wouldn’t be a need for medical assistance. She didn’t really wanna have to be operating or anything on them their first day. So she just stood there, her hands on her hips, watching as Maverick took off with the first set of pilots. The way the jets moved was fascinating to her, and she’d love to take some sort of joy ride in one, but she was sure she’d get in trouble for that. She wasn’t about to risk this opportunity that just so happened to tumble its way in front of her.

“Alright, we’re up.” Phoenix states, her voice crackling over the speakers, “Bob, keep an eye out, for me, ‘kay?”

“Will do.” He says, and all Eden can hear is the sound of jets zooming around as Phoenix and Bob talk amongst themselves in the air. Eden tilts her head as she hums ‘Great Balls of Fire’ softly, crossing her arms before she hears someone coming up behind her with their boots scuffing the concrete. She turns, a soft huff out of her nose when she sees Hangman wave.

“What do you want, Hangman?” she asks, placing her palms on the desk and watching the little trackers run around on a screen as the planes zoom around in the sky as she hears Natasha and Bob’s conversation upgrade to yelling over the comms. The clock that beeps tells her it only took about two minutes and thirty seconds for Maverick to lock onto them. It makes chills break across Eden’s skin, she assumes it's good by the way Fanboy curses next to her asking Payback, “How can someone be that good?”

“Well, I wanna know what you’re doing here,” Hangman says, leaning onto the table next to her with a soft smile and she laughs, rolling her eyes.

“Do you not listen?” Eden says, “Besides, why does it matter?”

“You’re not with the Navy, Benjamin.” He bends down uncomfortably close, “What makes you think you belong here with us? Huh? Running with the… big dogs, the best of the best, what makes you think you’re even cut out for that?”

Eden turns her head over her shoulder, momentarily ripping her gaze from the screen in front of her, “I think I’m cut out for anything I’m put through, Jake.”

“Oh?” He said, giving her a brazen grin as he rolls his toothpick against his teeth with his tongue, “I’m not too sure about that, Eden.”

“Wow, are you this pissed because I beat you at eight ball?” Eden counters, trying her hardest to not let it be obvious that Hangman’s words stung her already slightly fragile confidence, “Well, I was picked to come here, so they’ve gotta think I’m gonna be some asset. Plus, I’m not here to fly, idiot. I’m a fucking nurse , Hangman. That’s what I’m here to do, so don’t bite the hand that’ll feed you on your deathbed sometime, yeah?”

Payback laughs, Fanboy grinning from behind his helmet as the two pass Eden and Hangman and make their way to the tarmac where their respective planes sit idly, gleaming in the sun.

“Shouldn't you be getting ready to get your ass kicked, Seresin?” Eden says, but as his last name leaves her mouth a face flashes in front of her eyes– a kind-hearted blonde girl who sat in the front of her classroom in her Anatomy and Physiology class. At that moment, all she can see in that girl– Bridget Seresin’s face, is Hangman and she can't stop herself from blurting out, “Shit. You’re Bridget’s brother.”

Jake’s very obviously taken aback, “How do you know my sister?”

“She’s the star student in my Anatomy and Physiology class.” Eden crosses her arms, giving Hangman a confused look, “How the hell are you two related? You act nothing alike, case one, she’s actually nice.”

“Shit!” He shouts, a sudden realization leaving him without a comeback, “You’re Miss Benjamin!”

“We just covered that.” Eden states, very obviously agitated at this point because– duh, she just fucking said that Hangman, “Now go think about how you were just a dick to your sister's favorite teacher while Maverick kicks your ass in the air.”

Hangman rolls his eyes but bites his tongue as he turns to leave and go do whatever final checks he had to do before climbing into his plane. So now, it’s just her and one more person in the hanger-turned-classroom. Whoever it is, they’re hastily putting on their flight gear, muttering under their breath about papers or something. Eden spares a glance over to see Bradley looking like his vest had done something to personally piss him off. She rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, and she watches the screens flicker around until she hears Bradley’s footsteps walk up to her.

“Eden Benjamin.” He says softly and she turns, giving him a soft smile through her pink-lined lips as she leans onto the table a bit more with her hands as she tries not to think about the fact that Bradley looks really nice in the sunlight. Or how it really shows the color of his eyes or the definition of his cheekbones. She bites her lip absentmindedly as she thinks of exactly what to say, should she throw some sort of quip his way? Should she apologize for the jacket?

“You okay over there?” She asks instead, giving him a soft chuckle as he adjusts part of his uniform she assumes she’ll eventually learn the name of. She doesn’t ask him about the uniform though, not feeling like starting some sort of argument because he looks like he’s pissed at the thing that currently sits on his chest.

“Well, I’d be better with my jacket.” He leans one hand onto the table beside her, looking over at her with a gentle gaze with some sort of admiration. She has to look over her shoulder to see him, so she can't catch a good glance at his facial expression. He keeps talking though, leaning in a bit closer, but keeping her personal space intact, “you should’ve worn it, the dark leather would probably bring out your eyes. I’ve never met someone with eyes as light green as yours.”

“The only person I’ve ever met with eyes like mine are Mavericks.” She comments, looking up at the screen as Hangman’s caught by the aforementioned pilot, and she tries to ignore the way she can visibly see Bradley’s gaze harden and his shoulders tense, “But, maybe I didn’t wanna wear your jacket, maybe I’m saving it.”

“You’re saving it? For what?” He instantly unwound as he laughed softly, a grin breaking across his face as he tilted his head with a playful sort of chuckle rising from his throat after his laughter subsided.

She turns so that they’re face to face, making herself a bit closer to him, and speaking in a lower voice as she looks at Bradley through her eyelashes, “A special occasion. Say, bring yourself by The Hard Deck tonight and I’ll personally return it.”

“Well, I’d love that.” He leans in a bit closer before Maverick’s voice comes across the speakers.

“Rooster, you’re up.” He says and Rooster smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it had before, she pretends not to notice the odd behavior whenever Maverick comes up, “I’ll see you around.”

Eden gives him a small salute, internally cursing at herself for how stupid she probably looks, “Have fun getting your ass kicked by Maverick. Two hundred pushups seem like torture to me.”

“It’s nothing to me, promise.” He grins, returning the little salute (which makes Eden feel better) before he’s walking over to his jet and scooping up his helmet from a desk. Eden, now alone at the computers, drags a chair over to sit down. Eventually, once Rooster’s in the air, Phoenix joins her at the screens with Admiral Solomon and another man Eden hasn’t met yet, standing behind them.

“Warlock,” Phoenix turns, catching the attention of Admiral Solomon, “Can we talk to them over these microphones?”

“Yes, you can do so by pressing the call button right here,” He points to a small black button right next to Eden’s elbow and she internally prays that she didn't accidentally press it while arguing with Hangman or flirting with Bradley– again . Then someone says something about Maverick and Rooster being stupid. So Eden glances up to see the two dots swirling around each other as they begin to plummet, lower and lower, and then a moment later, Phoenix is slamming her hand down on the microphone and screaming, “Rooster! Pull up! The Hard Deck!”

“The bar..?” Eden murmurs as some siren begins to beep– loud and clear, and Admiral Solomon’s eyes harden as he watches, before Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, and Payback come running over with confused looks on their faces, Phoenix turns and shouts to them,

“I don’t know what the fuck Rooster’s doing, it’s like he’s trying to beat out Maverick– or something–?”

“He’s too low, he has to pull up!” Coyote exclaims, bringing his hands to his head where fresh sweat glistens from his push-ups. Hangman crosses his arms, watching with a curious look and almost no care in his eyes. Which, for some reason, ticks Eden off a lot more than it should. Though Eden can't even think about it before Phoenix calls for Rooster again, telling him to pull up, this time with a few curse words littered in– before one of the Admiral steps in and tells him to pull up too. She can even hear Maverick yelling at him over and over again to pull up and then she thinks– why doesn’t Maverick just lay off? He’s leading someone to their fucking death! Eventually, Eden realizes Bradley’s not listening, and she starts to think of what medical supplies the Navy might have, and what equipment she might need– before Rooster sharply pulls his jet up after he must realize that death is the only other option, just to be caught by Maverick a second or so later.

“What the hell was that, Bradshaw?!” Maverick roars with clear agitation in his tone, “Go land. Do your push-ups. That’s not me asking, that's an order as your instructor.”

Even though Bradley doesn’t answer, his plane moves to land anyway. And not only does the other instructor– Hondo she thinks he’s called, go to see Bradley's push-ups, Admiral Warlock and the other Admiral follow him. Leaving the rest of them alone, by the computers, and in silence. It’s at this moment Eden wishes she could shrink away because every pilot behind her and the small group she’d amassed around the computers begins talking amongst themselves sharply. Even if she can’t hear their words, she knows what they’re asking. Why? And who does he think he is?

“Is he trying to get himself killed?” Hangman sounds and Phoenix tuts, tilting her hands on the back of Eden’s chair. Turning slowly, Eden sizes him up, and all she can read across him is agitation. Beside him, Phoenix looks anxious, Bob’s practically ready to bolt, Coyote bites his lip, and Fanboy just watches with a tense look as Payback slips over to stand beside him. The other pilots are either still doing pushups, chatting behind them, or have slipped back into the classroom to hide from the anger of a now hollering Admiral Solomon. Bradley’s definitely in deep shit for that. Maverick probably is too.

Phoenix speaks after a beat of silence, “He’s got some sort of vendetta against Maverick.”

“Who cares what he has,” Payback critiques from beside Fanboy as he casually slides his phone back into his pocket, “He’s gonna get us all killed if he’s put on a mission acting like that.”

“Stress hormones can damage critical neuronal connections,” Eden mutters softly, when she realizes everyone stops to listen, she raises her voice a bit, “it’s the first day of some crazy mission, maybe he’s trying to show off, or seem better than he thinks he is. But it’s probably just a stress reaction or something along those lines.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak medical.” Hangman snaps with clear snark that Eden wants to oh so badly rip off his stupid tanned face.

Coyote shoves him, without much malice, “You have an issue with everyone, Bagman, fuck off.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Hangman raises his hands after he notes the clear concern of his fellow pilots, and he ducks under a tarp to slip into the classroom with Coyote, Fanboy and Payback silently stumbling away behind him. Eden’s glad Hangman goes because then he can’t piss her off anymore. She’d like to be his friend, as he’d never done anything horrid or vulgar to her besides his crude comments, but some of what he said wasn’t as bad as what some of her students had told her. But, it didn’t matter now, she’d personally decided to avoid Hangman and probably shit-talk him with his sister on Friday when she was able to return to her classroom. She was happy the Navy had agreed to let her go back the last two days to see her seniors out for graduation.

“What’s Hangman’s fucking issue?” Eden questions, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the weird inkling of protectiveness she feels in her gut– so she starts to try and reason it, “He’s been a dick to me all day, and now with that whole near-death thing? Shouldn’t we be worried about Bradley, not angry?”

“Hangman’s ego is so fucking large he can’t even contain it.” Phoenix begins taking off her flight suit, clicking off some sort of vest and shimmying out of it as Bob opens his mouth to speak, pauses, and then decides to speak.

“As long as I’ve known Seresin he’s been this way.” Bob expresses softly, leaning onto the desk where the microphone sits, “I think he’s like… insecure and trying to suppress it.”

“That would frankly make a lot of sense.” Eden sighs, but before she can continue, Maverick announces they’re done for the day and the conversation gets yielded in the bustle of people packing up and departing. Resting her head in her hands, Eden wheezes out a long sigh– how the hell was she going to be cut out for this? On her very first day, one guy nearly drives himself straight through the ground like a drill.

She still needs to go through the stupid aviator's medical training too, if she’s gonna be joining the other medic for their mission with any sort of dignity on her shoulders. Before she can control herself, she's spiraling. Asking herself, was she even cut out for this? Was she a hazard to the team? What if she ended up getting someone hurt because she didn’t know the right procedures to do? Or what if someone died in her care? How was she supposed to justify that to someone’s parents? Their children? Did any of the pilots other than Hangman have siblings? How would she explain that to them?

“Excuse me, Dr. Benjamin?” A voice calls and Eden pivots, trying to wipe the sorrowful look off her face as she’s met with the hard gaze of none other than Maverick. Pete Mitchell, she remembers him introducing himself as. Admiral Solomon had called him Captain Mitchell at one point too, so she assumes she should follow his lead with the honorifics.

“Captain Mitchell.” She stands, giving him a nod of respect which he returns after a beat– as if he wasn’t expecting it. Eden realizes she’s leagues out of it.

“What is the Super Hornet?” He asks unexpectedly and Eden stutters for an instant before spitting out, mentally swearing at herself for not being able to think of her feet as quickly as others.

“The planes being used for the mission, sir.” She declares, “They’re the technologically advanced models of the F-14s.”

“What else do you know about them?” He asks and even though Eden rakes her brain, she’s unable to come up with anything, which makes Maverick sigh as he watches Eden’s very visible internal panic.

“They set you up for failure, kid.” He declares, grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to Eden, “I’m not expecting you to know much, and honestly there’s not much more we’re gonna be teaching these pilots. Every single one of these pilots knows their planes inside and out, and they know their wingmen better than they know anyone else. Some of these pilots know each other from other squadrons, some of them went to college together– like Hangman and Bob. They’re pretentious as hell, but all of them are amazing pilots for their age– Eden, you’re close to their age, right?”

“Yes, actually, a week before the mission I’ll be turning twenty-eight.” She says softly, idly picking at her nails again as she keeps Maverick’s gaze, watching a world of emotions flicker through his eyes before he huffs and murmurs something to himself before hastily reaching in his bag and pulling out a few small books as he stands up and nearly trips over his chair in his sudden hurry. It makes her think, why had he pulled out a chair if he was just gonna leave a few seconds later? Had she said something to upset him?

“Just look through these, it’s information on the planes and the one that’s stapled together is the information for our mission. The red one is a book Warlock– Admiral Solomon, gave me for you. It’s a guide to Aviation medication and has information on past injuries of our pilots, so you can keep those in mind for the mission.” He pats her shoulder before leaving, “See you at the Hard Deck tonight, but get some studying done before you leave, kid.”

“I– Okay, thank you, Maverick!” Eden calls after him and then idles for a moment, extremely confused as to why he was surprised when she clarified what he had thought– that she was the same age as the pilots. What about her age freaked him out? Had he thought she was older, he knew she was Penny’s daughter, and her mom was only around Eden’s age when she’d had her. She didn’t get it, and she wondered if she ever would.

But Admiral Solomon offered her a ride home and on the way, she held the books in her lap with a newfound determination. She was gonna do anything she could to be the best flight medic in the entire fucking Navy.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun

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