#golden sands squad

[easyfreakyoff]

[callsigndragon]

Sunshine | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

(I love this gif so much I'm not even joking)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Wife!reader

Word count: 1010

Warnings: nothing! Pure, lovely fluff.

This was requested by @bookaholics-stuff. Thank you, honey! This was such a cute request and I just had to write it NOW. Hope you like it!

FOREVER TGM TAGLIST: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74

(if you want to be tagged, ask me!)

Mrs. Seresin was the only thing Jake didn't brag about. Don't get me wrong, it's not because he is not proud of you. Quite the opposite. 

He's so damn happy to have you in his life that he wants to treasure you. Keep you to himself. 

And there hasn't been a lot of time to talk about each other's lives during this mission. Phoenix wants to fix this matter, actually, suggesting all the members that a day at the beach could be a good opportunity to get to know each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had agreed to meet with the rest this Saturday, have something to drink at the Hard Deck, play some Dogfight football… Just a bunch of friends spending a normal day at the beach without having to worry about the safety of the planet. But that plan is thrown out the window when you, Y/n Seresin, the love of Jake’s life, ring the bell of Jake and Javy’s shared house. 

“Sunshine? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Jake says, while hugging you tightly. It has only been a few weeks since the last time he saw you, but it feels like a lifetime away from you. 

“Heard that my handsome hubby had chalked up another kill, saved the day and also the famous Maverick. I had to come here and celebrate!” you explain, covering his face with kisses, Jake scrunching his nose due to the pure happiness of the moment. 

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush, Mrs. Seresin” 

“Where’s Javy?” you ask, entering the house and leaving your small suitcase in the bedroom. 

“I don’t know, he said he was gonna meet Mickey and Reuben to buy something. Don’t ask me why because I can’t remember” he confesses, laughing. 

“Oh my, Jake Seresin, aren't you a bit young to be forgetting things?” you joke as you lay down on the bed, tired from the flight from Austin. You had been staying with your sister-in-law and her two kids for a few days, not wanting to be alone when you found out how dangerous this mission was going to be.

“It’s your fault. Do I have to remind you how I forgot my own name when I first saw you?” he recalls, sitting in the bed next to you, his hand quickly moving to your hair, and moving some strands out of your face. “You still have that effect on me, Sunshine” 

You smile, satisfaction running through your body as you realize that no matter how much time passes, Jake will always be completely and utterly in love with you. “I saw the beach while in the taxi. This place is amazing, Jake. And you are definitely sunbathing without me, huh? Look at that golden skin” you poke his cheek, making him giggle like a teenager.

Everyone saw Hangman, the aviator. 

But only you were able to see Jake, the loving husband. 

“Want me to take you to the beach, sunshine? We can take a bath and go for a walk.” he offers, kissing your forehead. 

“I’d love to”

-

“Is that woman talking to Hangman?” Phoenix questions out loud while leaving the cooler that Mickey, Reuben and Javy had bought earlier to fill with drinks, in the sand. 

“Maybe he is talking to the poor woman,” Fanboy suggests, moving his sunglasses down his nose to try and understand the whole situation. “Should we go rescue her?” 

“She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, though” Payback adds, the whole squad standing there like a bunch of sentinels, ready to jump into action if the lady needed to be liberated from the blonde cowboy. 

Seconds later, Hangman is throwing the poor girl over his shoulder and walking straight to the water. “Oh god, he’s gonna get smacked,” Bob laughs, opening his blue folding chair and sitting down to enjoy the show. 

“JAKE SERESIN PUT ME DOWN” you yell, trying to leave your husband’s arms, only to be thrown in the water. You stand up, your sundress now completely stuck to your body. Thank god you are wearing your swimsuit underneath. “If I didn’t vow to love you for the rest of my life I would kill you” 

“Did she say ‘vow’ as in ‘wedding vow’?" Rooster asks, looking at the rest of his team. “Man, I don’t understand anything” 

Javy, who had been trying to get the beach umbrella from the trunk after it got stuck, walks happily to the rest, wondering why the heck are they standing there like… well, idiots. “Guys what are you- Y/N SERESIN?” 

“JAVY!” the woman, who now everyone knows it’s a Seresin, runs to Javy, almost tackling him to the ground. "I'm so glad you're okay" 

"What are you guys doing here?" Questions Hangman to the group, joining his wife and his best friend. 

"Dude, beach day. We told you" Fanboy looks at Hangman, wondering if the pilot really had forgotten about it or was just messing with them. 

"Excuse my husband, he's having trouble remembering things lately" you tease him, earning a glare from Jake. 

"Husband" mutters Bob.

"Husband?" asks Phoenix. 

"Husband!" confirms Javy. 

"I'm Y/N. We've been married for three years now. And no, I wasn't forced to marry him, Rooster. I know you were about to say that" you say to Bradley, leaving him shocked. 

"I was gonna ask that, yes. How did you know? And how did you know I was Rooster" 

"Oh, cause I'm good, Rooster. I'm really good" you retort, making Jake laugh. 

"Oh no, there's two of them. We're doomed" Bob says, sitting down again. 

"I'm guessing Javy was the best-man?" Javy nods at Phoenix, answering her question. "Well, Mrs. Seresin, would you like to play some Dogfight football with us?" 

"I don't even know what's that but teach me, and I will play" you say, taking off the sundress and stealing Jake's sunglasses from him. 

He looks at you, wondering what had he done in a past life to be this lucky. Good job, good friends, and the perfect wife. His own personal sunshine. 

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Not A Coincidence

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 3k words

summary: It’s not a coincidence that you turn up at the Hard Deck for a beach day. It’s not a coincidence either that you end up inside the bar all alone with Rooster. And after what happened on Tuesday, well...  

fair warning: allusions to smut. no smut in itself. 

a/n: this is my first bradley oneshot and i am so fucking scared imma fuck up but yknow. we’re vibing. also the jake slander in this is all fun and games. i love him. 

main piece to “Tuesday Night”, “ Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night" and “Take Me On A Joyride”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

You were early. Too early. Much too early, considering it was currently 10am and your shift began at 5pm. But here you were, sunglasses high on your nose, bikini on under a loose shirt, straw hat on your head, towel and sunscreen in your bag on the passenger seat. 

It wasn’t a concidence that you’d decided on coming early for a beach day. It was far from that, actually. And you hoped, prayed, begged that Penny wouldn’t let it slip, that she wouldn’t rat you out. Because if she did that, you were not sure you’d be able to handle the teasing that would follow. Of course she wouldn’t want anything bad for you - just a little push in the right direction, she’d call it, and smile that smile of hers that had you and Amelia giving each other the side-eye every time.

But you’d have to take that risk. 

Because you sure as hell weren’t missing out on this shit. 

And it was all Penny’s fault in the end anyway. Penny’s fault because she was here on a Thursday morning, Penny’s fault because she was sitting outside, Penny’s fault because she just had to send you a picture, didn’t she? God damn her. God damn her for being your aunt. God damn her for not sending you that picture earlier. 

You grabbed your keys a little too tightly as you turned off the ignition and pushed the door open and close again with a bit too much force. One deep breath. Then another. You needed to calm down. 

You didn’t bother with the front door - if you could save the time it’d take to find the keys in your bag, you absolutely would - instead walked around to the tables at the back. This side of the Hard Deck was hardly ten metres away from the beach, so the second you rounded the corner, you stood, frozen in spot, and watched the picture Penny had sent half an hour ago become reality. 

And reality was much better than the crappy photo in any and all ways imaginable. 

The squad was all shirtless, all greased up, running after two balls, tackling each other, sand sticking to every inch of exposed skin, sunglasses on and drenched in golden light. It was like a scene straight out of some summer rom-com - actually, no, it was pretty much like a scene coming straight out of some soft porn. Unfurling right in front of you. 

Oh, you were in trouble. 

Especially the moment anyone spotted you. And they would. They fucking would if you didn’t move it right about now. 

As quietly as you could - and as invisible as possible, which was harder - you walked up to Penny, keeping your eyes firmly planted on the aviators rolling around in the sand. You were pretty fucking sure nothing would ever top this moment right now. Thirteen of what had to be the most attractive people on the planet tan, sweaty and half-naked? Yeah, there was no way in hell it would ever be any better than this right here.

You only glanced away for a second to sit down next to Penny, to take a look at the blank Sudoku in front of her. You snorted. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who dropped everything to get here”, you said, eyebrows raised, put your bag down next to you and looked back at the beach where Phoenix was just throwing her arms into the air to celebrate something you guessed was a good thing for her team. Hangman looked livid. 

“What can I say?”, she chuckled. “Even an old woman can enjoy some eye-candy sometimes.” 

“You’re saying ‘old’ like you actually are.” 

“Well-” 

She was going to argue, like she always did (you’d had this conversation a ton of times already), but before she could, Maverick came jogging up from the beach to a little chair he must’ve brought for himself. He waved in your general direction. You knew better than to think it was actually meant for the both of you - you were aware enough of the history of his ‘relationship’ with Penny to not be that arrogant. It always went the same: the two of them stumbling across each other every few years, with the exception of the half decade when she’d been married, they hooked up, they had a great time for some weeks, maybe even some months, then Maverick got himself into some kind of trouble and had to move across the country, leaving behind Penny and her broken heart. 

As he sat down to keep watching the game, you realised that you’d been spotted. Someone had noticed Mav’s wave, had seen not only Penny, but you too, and well, you were fucked now. You were fucked because it was Rooster who’d spotted you. Rooster who had a shit-eating grin on his face as he peeled his sunglasses off and made eye contact with you. Rooster who you knew was smart enough to connect the dots, to figure out that you being here wasn’t some coincidence. Rooster who probably realised you were checking his team out - checking him out - even all the way down the beach and through your sunglasses. 

But who could blame you? 

Hell, he looked gorgeous in his dumb Hawaiian shirts and jeans already, you weren’t particularly shocked that he looked even better without them. 

He waved at you. Waved at you to come over. To come join them. 

Within a few seconds, the rest of the aviators were catching onto his idea, were looking at you sitting there watching them, were following his example and waving at you to come down. You bit the inside of your cheek. 

You’d thought that if you were sneaky, careful enough, that you’d be able to just sit here and stare at them, watch them play, admire them for a while. Maybe pretend to read a book if they were to spot you after all. But, no, of course not. Of course Rooster had to demolish your little plan, crumble it up into nothing. Curse him. 

You sighed, but you knew the squad well enough by now to understand that you had lost. You had no choice but to do what they wanted you to do - they’d find a way to force you anyway if you didn’t do it willingly. 

Penny’s laughter in your ears, you got up and made your way down to the beach, arriving to a chorus of cheers that had you grinning and bowing. You could very well just play this off as some funny coincidence as long as Rooster kept his mouth shut. But with the way he was grinning at you, you were doubting he would for long. 

“I gotta admit I feel a little insulted that I wasn’t invited to your private beach-party”, you said, letting your eyes rake over Rooster with no concern whatsoever for being caught. You had sunglasses on. Nobody could prove you were doing a damn thing. And he was just too attractive for his own good, too attractive to ignore, too attractive not to look.  

“In our defense”, Phoenix said, still a little breathless from the game, and held both her hands up. “We didn’t know we were even having a beach-party.” 

“You didn’t even know?”, you asked. 

“Mav took us by surprise. Only told us this morning.” 

You snorted, interrupted before you could reply by a ball landing at your feet. 

“You playing, Junior?”, Jake shouted, making sure to flex his arms just short of ridiculously. If he weren’t Jake and you weren’t you, you’d probably be super into him, more turned on and less annoyed, but this way you just rolled your eyes and flipped him off. 

“First of all, Texas boy”, you yelled. “Quit calling me that or I’ll cut your fucking dick off. With some elementary school scissors as well because that’s all I’d need. And also, you know I hate sports, the mere fact that you’re suggesting I move any more than necessary is laughable.” 

You heard Phoenix and Rooster snicker as Jake laughed and threw you a sloppy salute. 

“Whatever ya say, Junior.” 

Junior. How you despised that goddamn nickname. Mainly because it didn’t make sense anyway - you weren’t even Penny’s daughter, you were her niece. They’d make more sense calling Amelia Junior. But no, it had caught on, and now you were just short of slapping people every time you heard it.

You turned back to Rooster, swallowing hard as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face this time. 

“I’ll get you guys some drinks”, you said, smile tugging at your lips. “If, that is, you’re allowed to drink.” 

“A drink won’t kill us”, Phoenix winked, and then hauled the ball from where it still lay at your feet and charged at Jake. 

You chuckled. There was a heavy silence hanging over you and Rooster even after half a second, your sunglasses protecting you from too much eye contact and him holding it effortlessly anyways.

“You look good”, he muttered, his voice low enough that you knew none of the others heard it. A shiver ran down your spine. Your throat went dry. God, why had you got yourself into this? You should’ve saved the pic, thanked Penny and stayed home. None of this complicated shit. But well, seemed as though you liked it complicated. 

“Do I?”, you asked quietly, barely suppressing a grin. He made an acknowledging sound that almost had you throwing caution into the fucking wind and pulling him in for a kiss just like that. 

“I think I could use a helping hand”, you said instead, voice sounding more breathless than it probably should. “You know, with the drinks.” 

His lip quirked up at that, the indication of a smile that you were much too familiar with already. You swallowed. This man should not have this effect on you. But he did, and well, who were you to argue with god’s gifts? 

“I’ve always got a free hand for you, sweetheart”, he chuckled, his fingertips dancing across your upper arm. You sucked in a breath. 

He’d flirted with you before, yes. But ever since Tuesday, he’d taken it up a notch. You’d have expected something like this from Hangman, surely, but not from Rooster. Sweet Rooster. 

Not so sweet after all. 

“You’re unbelievable”, you muttered, shaking your head and looking down (a mistake, in hindsight, because that meant you were staring right down at his abs) to escape his eyes on yours.

“What, you don’t like these hands?”, he asked with a grin, his finger snaking just below the hem of your sleeve before he pulled back, holding his hands up in front of you and turning them around - palm facing you, back facing you, palm facing you. You could’ve slapped him. 

The thing was that he had really fucking nice hands. And you didn’t usually notice that. But his were big, his fingers long, so goddamn perfect on your waist, your jaw - useful too, you could imagine. 

“I like those hands carrying the drinks out”, you quipped. “Think the guys can make do without you for a few minutes?” 

He didn’t even take a look at the squad before raising his eyebrows. 

“Sure they can.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your lips as you turned and walked up to the Hard Deck, passing by Penny (with that annoying smile that told you She knew, she knew, she knew), only leaning down to tell her you were getting the squad some drinks before you were pushing open the door, stepping behind the bar and getting out a tray. You set it down on the wooden bar top, put a bunch of shot glasses onto it and got out a bottle of vodka, only looking up when you heard Rooster laugh.

“And here I thought I was getting my hands dirty after all.” 

You snorted, resting your palms against the edge of the bar and leaning closer over to him. It was dark, light barely flooding in through the windows with the shades down, especially with your sunglasses on, and you really should have taken them off, but the sweet advantage of Rooster not knowing where you were looking was a bit too sweet to give up just yet. 

He looked good even in this dim light. One arm on the bar top, his face turned to you, his sunglasses still up high in his hair. Usually he’d hook them into his shirt, but - well, he wasn’t wearing one. A layer of sweat was covering his entire torso, droplets dripping down his neck. 

“You” - you pointed a finger at him - “are a cruel, cruel man.” 

He leaned just a bit closer, grin playing on his lips, and your breath caught in your throat as he raised a hand, prying your own sunglasses off of your face. Carefully, slowly, paying close attention to not hurting you. 

“Now is that good or bad?” 

He folded the glasses, put them down next to the tray and caught your gaze. For the first time today, you were actually looking at him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip all on their own. If he knew about even half of the power he had over you, you were fucked. 

“Well for me”, you grinned, not daring to do anything but stare right back at him. “For me, that could be very good. Depending on what you define as good, Bradshaw.” 

“Would be beneficial if our definitions matched.” 

You let out a laugh and shook your head, finally breaking eye contact to turn around and get out another tray, another few glasses (bigger ones, this time) and a bottle of water. Drinks were well and all but the squad needed actual fluids in their systems that weren’t alcohol and as far as you knew them, they had not brought enough to even last them much more than a few hours.

“You’re a menace, Bradshaw, is what you are. And now help me get these drinks out.” 

You grabbed one tray, grabbed the bottle of vodka and maneuvered everything out from behind the bar, towards the door. Your pulse was a bit too quick, your breathing a bit too shallow, but you were fine considering what had just gone down. Considering you’d been in here alone with Bradley goddamn Bradshaw, the literal finest man on the whole planet, and had managed not to throw yourself at him. Even after what had happened Tuesday. Even after knowing just how heavenly he felt close to you. Even with how horribly obviously he’d been flirting today. 

You had hardly taken two steps away from the bar top when you were tugged back - an arm around your waist, the tray wobbling dangerously. You put the bottle of vodka down on the bar, hard, much too forcefully, to keep everything from clattering to the ground. You were good at your job, yes, but not even you could keep a tray of close to fifteen shot glasses safely on your arm when someone was purposefully tripping you up.

“Shit, you can’t just do that!”, you cursed, carefully steadying the tray and putting it down as well before you looked up at Rooster. He’d let go of you, but he didn’t seem guilty or regretful in the slightest, that grin still on his lips. 

“You really want to leave me here without making use of these hands?”, he muttered, so close to you now that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You wanted to be mad at him. You so, so badly wanted to be. But he was making it way too hard. 

“With what those hands did already”, you hissed, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I want to find out whether the rest of what they can do is just as destructive.” 

He laughed, his hands back on your waist again suddenly, fingers splayed across your skin (the shirt was really, really thin after all and you felt like you were on fire wherever he touched you), pulling you flush against his front. Your palms came up to his chest to steady yourself and you sucked in a breath - sweaty skin beneath your fingertips, well-defined abs against your stomach. Most definitely god’s gift. Shit. 

“Changed your mind that quickly?”, he hummed, thumb tracing the hem of your bikini bottoms over your shirt. “Think I can recall you being very eager to find out two days ago.” 

“You kept track?”, you asked breathlessly, the question sarcastic but your tone - sadly - outing just how affected you were by all this. By his closeness, his touch, his words. Oh, you were down bad. He chuckled. 

“For such a pretty girl like you? Always.” 

He held you just a little tighter, pulled you just a little closer. You hadn’t thought it was possible. 

“Bradley”, you whispered, and something in his expression changed like a switch had been flicked in his mind. His fingertips dug into your hips. 

“Say that again.” 

You didn’t think your mind had ever been this absolutely blank as you looked at him, rolled his words around in your head, your lips parted and your eyes wide. 

“Bradley”, you repeated - had you ever said his name before? On Tuesday you’d kissed him, sure, but you’d both been tipsy and it had been 1am and you were pretty sure you’d called him ‘Roos’, even with his hands pinning you to his Bronco and your arms crossed behind his neck. “Kiss me again.” 

[wing-ed-thing]

Those Called Jinchūriki (Naruto x Jinchūriki!Reader x Gaara) Part I

Synopsis: There are only so many Jinchūriki to meet, and Naruto is outraged by your treatment. Unable to do much himself, Naruto enlists the help of Gaara to set you free and grant you sanctuary in the Hidden Sand.

Word Count: 2k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Jinchūriki!Reader, Slight Angst, Gaara isn't in this chapter

Notes: It's always been my personal hc that Naruto considers "jinchuriki" a slur. I'm pretty sure this is canon, but I haven't been able to track down manga evidence so don't fight me on this.

Considering how formal the event was, Naruto was eerily well-behaved. 

He had insisted on coming, and after making himself more of a nuisance than ever, Tsunade had placed him on the mission with one strict condition: don’t cause trouble. And so he sat, a mocktail in one hand and leg bouncing as he stared directly at the entrance at the top of the stairs. He didn’t hear Yamato notifying him that appetizers had been served, nor did he notice his new squad leader hovering over his shoulder, following his gaze up the carpeted steps. 

Naruto couldn’t wait to meet you.

You were the reason he had traveled all this way to your little land that hardly had a place on the map. You were why he had donned his finest clothes to attend this prestigious political gathering and waited patiently for your arrival. The moment he saw you, his eyes went wide.

The guards opened the ornate double doors with spears in hand as you emerged at the top of the grand staircase—elegant, layered fabrics draped over your shoulders, binding stiffly around your waist and neck. A golden chain littered with charms, ornaments, and sacred tags crowned your head, swooping adornments around the circumference of your skull. 

You stopped at the top of the grand stairwell. You held a stoic expression on your face, remaining only cordial as you took the skirt of your robes in your hands and bowed deeply. Naruto’s bright irises glittered at the sight of you. 

A holder of a tailed beast, dressed in fancy clothing and presented for all to see— Naruto’s chest ached with bitter happiness as he watched you live out his deepest dream and desire. He glanced toward the back of the room, where a decorated table sat waiting for you, elevated slightly taller on the ground where all could see you.

Like royalty.

A host of a tailed spirit, respected.

“Presenting… the Jinchūriki!” 

Naruto whooped and hollered, nearly jumping out of his seat in applause. But his praises were swiftly silenced as a roar of laughter and jeering erupted from the crowd on the room's lower level. Naruto’s forehead knitted, causing him to stop mid-clap. He swiveled in shock, scouring the room in search of answers as he sank back into his seat. He turned around, mouth agape, to make eye contact with Yamato, who only shrugged. Yamato looked about as confused as Naruto, his stare trained on you as his lips subtly contorted downward. 

The people swarmed you as you walked across the room to your table, faces smooshing around you as your indifferent guards put mediocre effort into keeping a walkway for you. Naruto couldn’t help but jump up from his seat, joining the nobles and political figures who crowded you. He jumped at the back of the mob, head bobbing over the sea of greased hair and overcomplicated updos. 

Naruto shouted your name, but the commotion drowned out his voice. 

You were never seen in public, after all.

You eventually reached a single table at the opposite end of the dining room. Naruto could see the top of your headpiece as he raced around the perimeter of the crowd. Little by little, the ornately decorated tablecloth appeared, matching the jewelry adorning you. You sat on the plush cushion, your guards finally able to keep the floor of people at least a few feet away from your table. 

People, but apparently not Naruto. 

You could only watch on in alarm as he slid between the legs of a nobleman, slipping on the hard tile floor as he scrambled between the guards and right up in front of you. He slammed his hands down, causing your silverware to rattle and you to jump. Your wide gaze darted around, searching for a guard to get this crazed madman away from you.

You stared, restraining your concerned expression as you wordlessly watched him. He huffed, catching his breath, even reaching across the elaborate table setting to help himself to your glass of water as he held out a hand. Not knowing what else to do, you offered him a cloth napkin. 

“Hiya! My name is Naruto Uzumaki, and wouldn’t ya believe it, but I’m also the host to the Nine-Tails and—”

Naruto stopped short, the sight of you stealing his words from his lips. It wasn’t the expensive jewels that littered your skin or the delicate fabrics, but the thick metal collar shacked around your neck. The weight of it left visible irritation on your skin from years of wear, bunching your robes and pinching at your collarbone. The cuffs were painted in ancient runes, spelling “Jinchūriki” exclusively and repeatedly. 

Naruto’s attention dropped to your hands, following the long stretch of chains from your neck to your bound wrists. The sleeves of your robes were folded up neatly to accommodate your bindings that held your hands less than a shoulder’s length apart. 

“What the hell?” he uttered, breathlessly horrified as Naruto’s baby blue irises flicked up to yours. Your eyes were about as wide as his. You placed a delicate touch on the table's edge, rising slightly from your seat. 

“Nine-Tails?” Your gaze explored him and darted frantically over his face and hands. You spoke lowly, almost in a whisper. Panicked concern painted your face. “Where are your bindings?”

He was torn away in an instant. 

It all happened in a moment, from the time Naruto introduced himself to you to the moment a guard grabbed him around the torso from behind in an attempt to wrestle him to the ground. Naruto kicked, struggling against the tight grip that pinned his arms.

“Wait—”

“Sit back down!” you were commanded. 

You shot back down in your seat without a second thought, spine erect. In the chaos, Naruto’s team rushed around in the background, trying to intercept the commotion, but too many people had crammed together. Naruto elbowed the guard in the face, thrashing his arms to break away and make a mad dash back toward you. 

His team members came in from the sides, engaging with the guards and attendees alike as they tried to avoid a violent confrontation. Yamato placed himself between the crowd and Naruto, arms and flat palms held out in front of his body. His assertive pleas for everyone to take a second were disregarded. 

Naruto’s hand wrapped around the link between your cuffs, tugging your longer chain as he held your bound hands up. You flinched, jerking your hands back, but his grip was too firm. The movement caused your eyes to twitch shut as you turned your head. You had little idea what was happening, let alone catch the rage simmering on Naruto’s expression.

“What the hell is this?” His shout cut through the commotion, bringing the entire hall to silence. You spotted orange from where you flinched, your head nestled between your arms. Your face slowly rose to catch a glimpse of black and orange markings etched across Naruto’s cheeks. He held up your bound hands again. The crowd backed up. The guards had broken from their confrontations with Naruto’s team to protect the gathering of elites with spears pointing forward. A strangled growl tore from Naruto’s throat as he repeated himself, “What the hell is this?”

Naruto’s grip closed around your cuffs, the tips of his rapidly sharpening fingernails causing tension in the metal. The entire room looked upon him in terror as you all watched his fox-like trains bubble to the surface. Even as tears gathered in your waterline, you waited motionlessly, watching like a cornered animal.

“Is this how the Land of Paper treats its sacred spirits?” He dropped your chains and stormed forward, causing the crowd to retreat with horrified gasps. The guards moved to confront him before Yamato swooped forward to forcibly hold Naruto back by the torso.

“Naruto, stop—” he hissed.

“How dare you!” One of the guard’s noses contorted into a foul, disgusted wrinkle. The rest of them came to surround the Hidden Leaf representatives. His lip curled as he held up his weapon. “And how dare the Hidden Leaf lack enough decency to bring a feral Jinchūriki to this gathering!”

“Don’t call me that!” 

“Naruto!” Naruto jerked forward in Yamato’s grip. He lowered his center of gravity, just barely able to restrain him. You sat face down on the table, the ornaments on your hair pointed outward like defensive horns, covering the back of your head with your arms. Your chains hung over it all, anchoring you to the room’s disturbance.

The guard turned to Sakura, who happened to be the closest, with a snarl. 

“Take your Jinchūriki pet and leave. You Leaf Shinobi are no longer welcome here.”

“Please, we have no malicious intent—” 

“Out!” The soldiers moved closer with their pointed spears.

“Go to hell!” Naruto yelled as Yamato tried his best to wrestle him away. You barely rose from your cowering position, but Naruto managed to meet your eye. He pointed directly toward you. “I’ll come back to save you! Don’t you worry!” 

The rest of the team followed, having no choice but to abandon their mission in disgrace.

The commotion ended as soon as it started. A few servants swooped in to clear away spilled beverages, and the hosts resorted quickly to damage control.

“What excitement!” one of them laughed nervously over the gather. The rest were easily convinced to laugh along. Uncertainly dizzied your head as you wondered what just happened.

***

“What the hell, Naruto?” Yamato shoved Naruto’s shoulder up against a wall at the back entrance. Naruto’s head bowed, unreadable, as Yamato held his shoulder pinned. The Jōnin was quietly seething himself.

With the Akatsuki slowly making their way across the country collecting tailed beasts, it was integral to make contact with the Land of Paper. While most tailed beasts made homes in large, established shinobi villages— or entirely off the grid in solitude— the Land of Paper continued a long tradition of keeping their tailed spirit for strictly spiritual and ornamental purposes. Compared to the Bijuu cultivated for wartime, Yamato had been informed that you hardly stepped outside your secluded temple, making you a prime target for the Akatsuki. 

They needed to talk to the important people gathered in that dining room, but now all that was squandered.

“I understand you’re angry—” Yamato resigned with a heavy sigh. He turned to rub his hands over his face, letting Naruto crumble to the ground. Yamato took a sharp intake, fist pressed against his lips. —“But that was not helpful, Naruto. We needed to get on the good side of a lot of people in that room. I don’t know what you were thinking—”

A single sniffle cut off Yamato’s rant.

Then another.

“I’m sorry, Captain Yamato.” Naruto’s voice was small. He curled in on himself, fingers weaving through his messy blond hair. Yamato stood in front of him silently. The rest of the team held their tongues, giving Naruto and Yamato their space as Sakura tugged Sai away. Naruto’s body jerked with his sobs, tears falling into his folded lap. “I’m sorry.” 

Yamato’s expression melted at the sight of him, and with another deep sigh, he knelt down to Naruto’s level.

“I was angry too,” he admitted, one wrist resting on his bent knee. “I didn’t know they treated Jinchūriki like that. If I had known—”

“Don’t use that word.” 

Yamato paused, staring deeply into the top of Naruto’s head. He studied his unmoving form, a soft concern in his dark eyes. Yamato placed a gentle touch on Naruto’s arm. 

“What word, Naruto?” It took a moment before he answered, his voice muffled as Naruto spoke into his knees. Yamato sat fully on the ground, repeating Naruto’s name softly and assertively. He leaned forward on his knees. “What word shouldn’t I use?”

“Don’t call us Jinchūriki.” Naruto sniffled. “Please.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: You know, it's here, it's cheesy. The direction of this kinda reminds me of the style of early 2010s fanfic? Does that make sense to anyone else?

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 5

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.2k

When Bradley had invited you to the beach later that week, and said April could come along, you were slightly confused. You thought he was training, so you couldn't understand why Maverick had brought the whole squad to the beach for the day. That was until you actually got there.

You and April both stopped in your tracks when you stepped onto the sand to see the whole squad playing what looked like football.

April's mouth fell open, "They're all so... Golden."

You nodded as you both walked across the beach to find a spot in the sun, with a perfect view of the game, "I know right. It's almost not fair how sculpted they all are."

The two of you chuckled as you laid out your towels, April had insisted on bringing a cooler full of beer, which you were more than happy with. She passed you a bottle as you pulled off your shirt, leaving you in denim shorts and a black bikini top. You sat down, glancing at the game, and caught Bradley's eye as he winked at you with a wave. You chuckled, waving back at him, then turning back to April, whose eyebrows were raised as she watched the encounter.

"What's going on between you two?" She asked, taking a sip of her beer.

You shrugged, "Just trying to get to know each other again."

"Right, getting to know each other as you grill him for information about his mission." You immediately shushed her, checking to see if anyone had heard. You turned back to her, and she sat closer to you, lowering her voice, "Have you not told him yet?"

You shook your head, "I can't. Every time I try the words literally get stuck in my throat."

She took her sunglasses off and placed them on the top of her head, "I'm gonna be real with you. If you don't see you and Bradley getting back together and being all lovey dovey and shit, then by all means, continue trying to get information the sneaky way. But, if you want to take things seriously, you need to tell him."

"I know." You sighed, fiddling with the end of your towel, "What if he hates me?"

"That's why you tell him the truth, so you have the chance to explain."

April led back on her towel and you followed suit, closing your eyes as the warm sun beat down on you. You and Bradley were taking things slow and that was fine. But what if he didn't see anything serious with you again? What would be the point in telling him about the article then?

After relaxing for what felt like hours, you heard footsteps coming towards you, "Hey!" You opened your eyes to see Bradley stood in front of you both, hands on his hips, bright smile on his face and missing his shirt. You eyes glanced over his bare chest, he was sweaty and panting slightly, probably from the game. Without realising, you squeezed your legs together. Bradley's eyes flicked down, a slight smirk on his face as he asked, "You guys enjoying the sun?"

"I would be Bradshaw, if you weren't currently blocking it." April said bluntly, not even opening her eyes.

Bradley held his hands up in surrender and moved to the side to stand at the edge of your towel, you sat up and looked up at him, squinting at the sun, "Mavericks got you training hard today, huh?"

Bradley chuckled, "It's for team building." You handed him a beer and he thanked you, sitting down on your towel next to you, "I'm glad you came."

You smiled, sipping your beer, "Me too, haven't gotten the chance to relax at the beach for a while."

"Yeah? Work still kicking your ass as much as it's kicking mine?"

"Yeah." you replied, fiddling with the towel again.

Bradley huffed, "We've got two weeks to train for this mission, and I don't think any of us are near ready."

You paused, choosing your words carefully, "Two weeks? That's all their giving you?"

"Yeah." Bradley shrugged, "That's when the uranium facility will be operational, gotta get in there before then."

Your breath caught in your throat. That was it, all you needed to impress your boss had just been casually thrown into conversation by Bradley. You suddenly felt sick. You met April's wide eyes as she rolled away from you both.

"That, uh." You cleared your throat, "That sounds dangerous."

Bradley nodded, his eyes staring down at you so full of trust. He trusted you. That made you feel even worse.

"Rooster!" You both turned to see a woman with dark hair jogging over to you, "We're gonna grab some drinks at the Hard Deck later, you in?" she said as she stopped in front of you, smiling.

"Yeah." He replied, "Nat, this is-"

"Oh I know who you are." she beamed, holding out her hand. You shook it as she said, "It's nice to finally meet you."

"You too." you replied, slightly smirking at Bradley since he'd been caught out for talking about you to his friends, "This is my best friend April."

April smiled, sitting up to shake Nat's hand, "Nice to meet you." Nat said, "You guys are welcome to join us for drinks later."

"We definitely will." April replied, "I'd be very interested in meeting some members of your squad." She lowered her sunglasses, gazing at the group stood in the middle of the beach, "Especially while they're still shirtless, that would be nice."

Nat laughed as one of the men, a blonde, came to join you, "What are we laughing about over here?" he smirked.

Nat rolled her eyes, "Nothing that concerns you, Bagman."

You looked over at Bradley, who seemed to be in some sort of silent stare-off with Hangman, so you broke the tension, "So you're Hangman."

He broke Bradley's intense stare and met yours instead, "I certainly am." he smirked, "You heard of me?"

You gave him the fakest smile you could muster, "All the bad things."

Bradley snorted, turning to face you, "I should go and change, but I'll see you later, yeah?"

You nodded as he and his friends walked away to join their group. When you turned back to face April, she was clearly expectant, but instead of saying anything, you both packed up your beach supplies and walked back to her car, having had enough sun for one day. Once she'd put your towels and cooler in the back, she turned to you, "What the hell are you gonna do?"

"I don't know!" you whisper shouted, "I have everything I need to write that stupid article now. Shit."

She shut the boot and crossed her arms, "The question is, are you going to print what he gave you?"

You bit your lip, picturing Mark's face the last time you'd seen him, "You didn't see my boss, I really think I could lose my job over this."

April sighed, "Sleep on it. Have a good time at the Hard Deck tonight and decide tomorrow."

You nodded and the two of you got into her car. What you didn't realise, is that a couple spaces away from you, Hangman was also packing up his car.

And he had heard your entire conversation.

He was definitely looking forward to tonight.

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - two

word count: 5.3k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, smut, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

one.

Your phone started ringing just after you’d showered and your last lesson of the morning session. Wrapped in a towel and shivering, you saw Bradley’s smiling face as the phone vibrated. “Hey,” you answered. “This is an early call, sweetheart, what’s happening?” you asked, hoping the demand didn’t sound as deliberate as it felt. “Everything okay?”

“We’re at the beach, come join us!”

“You’re at the – ” You frowned, checking your watch. No, it wasn’t playing games on you. “It’s the middle of the day, Bradley.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Mav has us down here doing something he’s calling  ‘defensive football’. It’s kinda crazy but… kind of fun,” you could hear him cover the receiver and muffle something back. “Natasha said you have no excuses and to get down here.”

You giggled quietly, heart exploding with his joy. It sounded so good to hear him so positive and happy. “Well, I just showered. Lemme go home and get some stuff, okay?”

“Awesome. Can’t wait to see you, love. Can you wear that…” he paused and whispered. “Can you wear that white swimsuit?”

You laughed, covering your face. “Bradley, no – ” That was strictly for his eyes only.

“C’mon, please? Just for me?” he grovelled. “I wanna show you off.”

Blood flushing through your system as you roasted with embarrassment, how could you say no? “Lemme see what I can find.”

“You’re amazing. I’ll see you soon. I’m getting called back.”

“You’re so fuckin’ whipped, Bradshaw!” you heard someone screech past as you laughed.

“You are so fuckin’ whipped, Bradshaw,” you mocked. But you were allowed to. He was in love with you.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re evil. I love it. See you soon.”

“Okay, see you soon,” you replied, your grin so wide and you so happy for him. You were excited to go see him in his element, having fun with his friends, laughing, joking.

You found yourself at the beach about an hour later, spotting Bradley and his squad thunder across the sand and shoreline, golden brawny shoulders covered in sunburn and sand, running in circles they his team tossed, tackled and laughed jovially. Bradley and Javy looked absolutely ridiculous in their jean shorts (what?!), and a few of the pilots were in full-length jeans. They could only have been so uncomfortable. All were far too competitive for their own good. Your eyes fell on Mav, and gosh… it had been so long. You didn’t want to go over and say hi, knowing how tentative things were with Bradley. 

Moments had to be picked precariously these days.

“Hey,” Penny smiled as you dropped your towel on the sand a while away, not wanting to interrupt them. You wandered up to chat with her, the joy of small business accounting fresh before her, calculator, pen and pad scribbling and furiously making notes. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Let me guess, too busy playin’ house with Rooster and forgetting the rest of the world?” she teased lightly.

You laughed quietly, toe-thumbing the warm sand but it was hard to argue – you had been spending an inordinate amount of time shutting off the rest of the world together. And while you loved your friends, getting lost with Bradley Bradshaw had forever written all over it. “Something like that,” you admitted.

“Your mom was talking about you guys moving in together! That’s a big step.”

“Yeah,” you said bashfully. “Bradley got the keys to his parent's place so we’re gonna give that a go,” you tried to downplay it.

“The one on the beach? That is just lovely for you both.”

“Still lots to do – I mean, he will be away and I have work but he wants to try and do as much as he can.” The thought of Bradley Bradshaw: handyman had crossed your mind once or twice since you’d decided to move in together.

“That is the sweetest thing,” she teased gently as a football plopped at your feet. “Incoming.”

Placing your foot on the sandy leather, a low growl met you as Bradley’s hands wrapped around it and then surrounded you a moment later. “Hey, Penny,” he said, gently pressing a kiss into your temple. “Here’s my sweet girl.”

“Who’s winning, Rooster?” Penny dared ask.

“Uh, not too sure,” Bradley admitted, his sandy palm sneaking under your white linen shirt and resting on your hip. “We kinda lost count, I think.”

“How many times have you tackled Hangman?” you murmured as he chuckled darkly.

“Definitely lost count,” he said, that hint of arrogance seeping through.

“You two are really so sweet,” Penny said. “I can see why your mom is so excited by this,” she pointed between you as Bradley tenderly kissed your hair and you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s strong waist. You heard his small moan made only for your ears.

“This is really special, you two,” she admitted, as she looked beyond you and nodded towards… Mav.

“So strange to see him back here,” you admitted. “Haven’t seen him since I was a teenager.”

Bradley hummed, you weren’t sure if Penny picked up the clipped shortness in his tone, but you sure did as he whispered he’d be back soon. Remembering Carole’s mantra, ‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say, say nothing at all’, he bit his tongue for Penny’s benefit only.

“We’re not going to talk about the jean shorts?” you called after him.

“They’re jorts!” he retorted, throwing a grin back before dashing back to the game. God, he looked so good, even if he was wearing jorts.

“Oh, that makes it all better…” you muttered to yourself, not sure how the fashion crime still made him look like he’d just walked in PFW as Penny grinned. 

“Oh, girl. He is so in love with you. I have never seen Rooster Bradshaw like this before. Hearts breakin’ all over Miramar today,” Penny teased as you tried to hide your smile, but it was next to impossible as you kept your gaze on him. The way his body moved, his muscles, the gleam of the sun off his tanned skin.

Divine, and all yours. You were mesmerised by him and if everyone could see how in love with you he was, you wondered if you were able to keep it low-key for how you felt for him. You never expected to be so in love, fall for someone like him. He just moved people… but no one knew the way he could move you.

“I’m really happy,” was all you could tell Penny.

“I know, darling heart. I can see that but won’t tell anyone,” she winked. “Go, watch those half-naked aviators show off for a while. I’ll bring some drinks out when they’re done,” she said, collecting her stuff and heading inside the bar and you wandered back to your gear. You carefully took off your shirt and folded it neatly in your beach bag, grabbing your towel and laying it out –

“You’re just pathetic,” Natasha sidled up to Bradley, following his gaze to your form.

“So fuckin’ pathetic,” he agreed as he watched you pedantically flatten out your towel and get to your knees and move to your tummy, eagerly grabbing your book and tossing yourself into it. He didn’t see you read often, he knew that was because probably of him and how he’d imposed in your life these days, but watching you in the sun, completely at ease – Jesus Christ, he was so lucky. Could easily hang his own team out to dry to share his time with you.

You weren’t wearing that swimsuit he quietly pleaded for, but it was fine by him. Your curves, the flashes of skin? You were sexy in his oversized, ratty tees, messy morning hair, and grumpy without your coffee. There was no time you simply weren’t perfect to him… for him.

He chewed his lip, knowing he’d softened in ways he’d never imagined he could. Dropped his walls for the woman who deserved the world and more. He’d changed for the better, and he hoped you would always be proud of him for how he loved you.

Struggling and as hilarious as the bet to wear the jorts was, he felt like he was wearing cement but, in this case, was probably for the best.

“You’re gonna marry her,” Natasha decided, snaking the ball from him in his stupor and dashing off for the other end of the beach, his teammates raising his arms in victorious touchdown fashion. Bradley didn’t even care. 

“Probably,” he agreed, a small smirk quirked at his lip, before adding, “Hopefully.”

Meandering back to your apartment later that evening, Bradley held the bags on one side and your hand in the other, the sun starting to set. He felt good, loose, a few beers in his system, Mav survived another day (even if he’d again fucked Cyclone right off. It wasn’t lost on anyone when the Admiral chased down Mav on the beach in the earlier afternoon) and had to even credit the old man, things between the squad had been tempestuous at best and it had really brought them together.

He'd go to the grave with that.

“You good?” you asked, interrupting his thoughts as he turned to face you, his glasses tangled in his wild, messy curls, a small smile on his face, a dimple threatening to reveal itself.

“Just needed today. I didn’t realise how much,” he confided. “Thanks for coming along.”

“I’m glad you asked, it was fun to see you all unwind even if it was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” you replied as he stopped and dragged you back to him. He dropped the bag at his feet and took your cheeks in his rough palms.

“Love you,” he murmured, laying one of those lazy kisses on your lips. You moaned against his mouth as he giggled quietly. It was just one of those kisses that had the ability to render you stupid and he loved that he had that power over you. His strong palms drifted down your sides and wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer again. “Let me take you home. We shower and then I just make you cum and cum with my tongue until you tell me to stop. Wanna taste you all night, love.”

Giggling against his mouth, you pushed him back lightly. God, he could be so filthy sometimes. You’d never know anyone so confident in making the dirtiest of promises and dutifully fulfilling them until you screamed his name over and over. You’d give him anything he ever wanted. “I love you,” you told him honestly and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to love anyone like this again.

You waited for Bradley impatiently the next night. When you finally heard his bag hitting the floor at the entry and the door closing over quietly, you weren’t surprised when he didn’t mutter a hello before hitting the makeshift liquor shelf. You went to him and surrounded him as he still forced the alcohol down his throat, and he kissed you barely.

“I heard,” you told him as he nodded solemnly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m angry,” he admitted, his raspy tone rough.

“I’m sorry, baby. What can I do for you?” you smoothed your palms down his back, the rage within him radiating off his hot skin through his clothes. “Are Bob and Nat okay?” you asked gently, moving your hands to his chest and pressing your hands into the firm muscle, your eyes desperately searching his unreadable face.

The new theme… every time you thought you’d seen him angry? The next night he’d come home worse. And he hated it, because he knew you were on tenterhooks around him, and it killed him that he couldn’t control his emotions after hours, on your time, when he should be his best self, your best selves together. He would try and take out as much tension as he could on pads at the gym before he came home, but his head couldn’t tune out the rage that each day brought with Maverick… even Hangman was at his fucking worst and nothing made sense.

“They need to stay in overnight for observation,” he said softly as you caressed his torso.

“Okay. That’s the best news we could hope for. I’m glad to hear that.”

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes. “I don’t really wanna talk, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you asked, dreading his answer as he shook his head.

“I know I’m not great to be around at the moment, but please stay with me?”

“If that’s what you need, sweetheart…” you told him and poured yourself a glass, feeling as empty as the glass appeared. He apologised gently. You poured him another glass too and raised yours. “To Iceman.”

“Ice,” Bradley sighed, taking a warming sip this time. You stayed quiet with him for a long while, the loss of Ice compounding what was already a rough day. “I love you, sweet girl. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

You gave him a light smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Bradley,” you promised him. “Come here, let me hold you,” you told him softly as he put the glass down and breathed long through his nose. He took you in, his dark eyes starting from your bare feet, your legs to the curve of your waist. His palms moved to rest on your hips, his long fingers pressing into the flesh as he rested his forehead against yours. He melted into you, his strong nose pressed against yours and dragging down past your lips and his forehead slipped into the curve of your shoulder. “Love…”

You knew how much he needed you, he need comfort, he needed shelter, but first, he needed to surrender. He had been on his haunches since Mav walked into his seminar last week and he had barely a moment to unwind since. “I love you,” you pressed your hands into the firm muscles of his back, wound so tight, coils ready to explode. He needed to unleash and lose himself and his mind a little bit.

“I want you,” he admitted.

“Just try and relax, baby,” you begged him quietly.

“I know how to do that. Getting lost with you,” he confided, the tone in his voice light, regarding you.

You reached up to run your fingers through his waves and he pulled back lightly, wetting his lips and carefully dipping to meet yours, and you kissed him sympathetically, wanting him to stay slow, stay in the moment. His fingers found the hem of your tee and raised it without questions. “Brad – ”

“Turn around, love. I need to bury myself in you, forget all about today.”

Numbly and as instructed you turned around and Bradley ran his palm over the curve of your ass, giving it a gentle grope before looping his slender fingers under the flimsy tights you wore, revealing a lack of underwear and he sucked in a breath. “Good girl,” he dragged the tights down and helped you step out of them, the tickle of his moustache against your hamstrings unfamiliar and teasing. “Take a step,” he said, nudging your legs apart, his fingers creeping around and sliding into your warm pussy. “Love, were you waiting for me?”

Not really, you wanted to admit and fell back against him as his thumb started to work against your clit. As much as you didn’t want to bandage up the day by making love, it was hard to deny him when he needed you so badly and he could make you feel so good. Maybe he could coax you through this? You’d get in the mood; you always did.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured into your jaw as you writhed into his hand. He let out a small, rough laugh. “Like that?”

You were trying to and gee, it still felt so good as you clutched the bench top so tightly you begged not to splinter yourself. His skilled fingers pressed into your pussy, warm with slick, warm with what he begged was your desire for him. One finger then two, all the way in… and the way out as you squeaked, all the way in and contorting against your g-spot.

His perfect fingers.

It wasn’t how you saw tonight, but he had a mystical way to make you give in and share the moment with him. “You’re throbbing. Don’t you have dare cum anywhere else but on my cock, you hear me?” his hot breath was at your ear now, his divine tongue tracing from your shoulder to the nape of your neck and be paused momentarily while you heard him open his belt and drop his zip.

Bradley pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs before taking off his tee, discarding it, he gave himself a few guiding pumps, his cock painfully hard and bent his knees a little as he guided his thick cock into your weeping cunt. “Oh, Bradley,” you couldn’t deny him as he pushed in sinfully slowly. Bottoming out, he breathed deeply, kissing your neck, his tongue gliding down its curve as he reached for your slit again.

“Don’t you dare cum until I say so, hear me?” he asserted, his thumb and index fingers pinching your clit. God, you loved when he proved his position in power.

You breathed deeply, gathering that he needed this so badly. Your gentle Bradley Bradshaw needed his release, most nights this week had been the same, with the exception of yesterday… it brought the best night in a few weeks – your man at his best. 

But that hadn’t stopped the strange nagging in the back of your mind. He’d been quiet, reclusive, seeking comfort in fucking to release. There wasn’t a heck of a lot of intimacy, he’d rolled over and gone to sleep most nights, but you couldn’t hold it against him. What he was putting his body through to prepare for this mission was unlike anything you’d ever heard.

From what you’d mentioned to Grandpa, Viper admitted what Bradley and his squadron were being put through was more than he’d ever put his 1% through, and more than he’d heard before.

The thing was you didn’t really feel connected, you kind of felt like a vessel for him and wondered if this was just something because he was clearly going through it, or if this would continue after this assignment ceased? Both left a nagging feeling that maybe you weren’t coping with it as well as you would have hoped for either. “Fuck,” you were so in your own head, you knew you’d lost your orgasm. Shit.

“Yes, love,” he concurred. “Just a bit more for me.”

And as Bradley rutted into you, telling you to cum when you weren’t close to doing so, you held your hand up. “Bradley,” you tried as you felt the sweat of his forehead balance on your shoulder. “Bradley,” you spoke up and his hips slamming into you stopped abruptly.

“What?” he muttered back.

You shook your head, begging him silently to ignore you and just get it over and done with. He started to furiously rub your clit thinking you just need a little extra stimulation, but it only felt uncomfortable. You sighed and just let him finish as he sped up behind you, quads snapping into your hamstrings like pistons as you braced the bench top to keep your balance. You held Bradley make a low growl behind you and you knew he’d come. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, pulling your back to his front tightly as you shrugged him off, lying about how sensitive you felt. 

“Sorry, baby. Just needed that out, you know?” he breathed, leaning his body weight against you and he slipped out of you, his cock weeping against your ass and the proof of your fucking seeping between your legs as he hummed in appreciation. “That looks so good.”

You heard him pulling his jeans back up and turning you to face him, his face soft as he chuckled low, mess dribbling between your legs and he tried to kiss you. He paused when he realised you weren’t returning his advances.

“What’s up?”

You couldn’t articulate how empty you felt and could only look at him.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, crestfallen. “Was I too rough?”

“No, it’s fine – ”

“No. It’s clearly not,” he cut in, his calloused hands soft on your jaw as he lifted your eyes to meet his. “Are you sure I wasn’t too rough?”

“You weren’t rough… you just weren’t…”

“I wasn’t what?” he was starting to panic, he never in his worst dreams ever wanted you to be scared or upset or -

“When did it become a thing that you come home wild and just expect me to fuck you out of your piss poor mood?” you said before you could find a way to be more eloquent and articulate yourself a little better.

His jaw dropped as he stammered over words. “I… what?” he asked, lost, confused. It was all etched across his handsome face.

“Since Mav came back, you’ve been a storm in a teacup. Every single night you have come home angrier than the night before and I just feel like the only way I can get you smiling again is if we fuck.”

“I don’t – ” he tried.

“Bradley, I don’t understand in what world you think what just happened was good for me. This isn’t a consent thing, you certainly didn’t hurt me, but Jesus, I’m not just some tool, some vessel you fuck until you feel better about yourself.”

He started to frown and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – ”

“I’m supposed to be the woman you love. Not once this week when you’ve gotten home have you asked me how my day was, you’ve gone straight for the booze, drowned yourself in a few scotches and then fucked me before barely saying another word and going to sleep.”

He kept his mouth shut this time and leaned against the corner of the bench, giving you some distance.

“And I know today was terrible. You lost Ice, you almost lost Natasha and Bob. I cannot imagine what you’re going through, but if you think for one second what just happened was just what you needed, wow, we need to really talk.”

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t know what has come over me,” he admitted softly. He felt sick. Never in his wildest had he wanted you to feel anything except his equal. He had never intended to make you feel inferior. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears, a disillusionment in himself he’d never felt before. “You’re the only person keeping me afloat at the moment,” he confided quietly but he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Thing is… I know that. But does that mean I cop all your baggage as well, just for the fucking fun of it?” you raised your voice a little. He still looked stunned. It wasn’t often Bradley found himself dumbstruck, but he’d never known he could hurt anyone the way he had clearly hurt you. He looked at his feet, muffling an apology and something about not coping at the moment.

“No shit,” you told him. “I am breaking my back to bend and cater to your whim, Bradley.”

He looked up, lost, lonely, ashamed. “Love, I’m so sorry. I have just been so – “

“Angry?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. He almost wanted to smile – you got him in one.

“Preoccupied?”

“Well – ” he was surprised there was more.

“Rude, obnoxious?”

“Fuck, am I doing anything right at the moment?” he asked sensitively. He looked so utterly broken, you almost wanted to go to him, but your brain was fried. All you could think of was a hot shower, clean yourself up and go to bed. “Love...” he tried calling after you as you went to the bedroom, slamming the door in your own right. Your neighbours must be so thrilled with you and Bradley’s current door-slamming arrangements.

Not one to take anything laying down, he carefully followed you to the bedroom but already heard the water running, your clothes discarded near the hamper. He couldn’t help himself and picked up your tee, pressing it to his nose and letting your perfume try and centre him before collecting the rest and putting it away to wash.

He leaned against the bathroom door and knocked gently. You didn’t reply so he hoped walking in was okay. What he found wasn’t. You were sitting on the closed toilet, knees dragged to your chest, naked and in tears. “Oh, my God, love. I’m so sorry,” the urgency of the situation hit him rudely.

You were upset, you were devastated because of him. He moved and knelt before you but didn’t know if he should touch you although he was absolutely desperate to hold you, whisper all the endearments you needed to hear to reassure you how much he loved you, needed you, wanted the rest of his life with you. Apologise for being so completely irrational but also, he couldn’t explain how he was feeling – all the thoughts, feelings and emotions that Mav coming back had brought him. And losing Ice, a man who stepped in when Mav betrayed him all those years ago –

He hesitated to grasp your ankle, clueless as to what you needed or what you’d allow him to do. He wanted to wrap you up and remind you that you were everything, but he had never seen you so troubled and worse, because of him. He was distraught that he might have scared you, and made you doubt everything he felt because he was spiralling.

The thing was, he knew he was spiralling. You knew he was… and worst? So did Maverick. He hadn’t mentioned to you the heated words they’d exchanged when Bradley had approached him about pulling his papers. It was years in the making, and the lack of control Bradley had made his head spin. But it felt so good to finally have the question in the air.

Why did Mav stand in his way? And what was Mav’s shitty response? Bradley wasn’t ready. He was never ready for anything in his life. Losing his dad, his mother. How could Pete Mitchell take the one thing he was so certain of and suggest he wasn’t ready? 

“I’m sorry I missed that you weren’t, God, how do I say this? You weren’t into it, that I was being selfish. I know I’ve been hard to take the last few weeks, love,” he said miserably. “I’m not coping, I’m treating you like shit and hurting you. My brain won’t stop – ” he paused when you laced your fingers in his hair and he sat up to look in your eyes. Tears strained your cheeks, breathing uneasy but you pulled him into your arms anyway and Bradley Bradshaw had never felt more loved. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “You’re too good for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“I love you, Bradley. I love you so much and that is why this is scaring me. It’s too good to be true, and Mav comes back… and it’s like I don’t even know you,” you confessed to him, and he finally got it. “I’ve known you my whole life, but I don’t know this part of you. And I need to understand because if this is going to our life… I need to be a part of it. Not compartmentalised and watching you try and handle it yourself.”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I know, baby. I am not doing much well right now.”

“No. And that’s all you needed to say to me. Let me be there for you. Let me be a part of this.”

“I don’t want to drag you into my bullshit – ”

“Bradley, if this were me going through this, you would do everything in your power to fix it. Please… let me try and do the same. The right way.”

Bradley had never felt so adored and loved by someone. He knew his mom loved him unconditionally, but it had been so long that he felt that someone could try and be that person for him again. “I will, love. I don’t wanna lose you, but I just can’t do this on my own.”

You were both silent for a moment before you released him and held his face in your soft palms. Your handsome, broken boy.

“And you’ll never have to,” you gingerly moved to your feet and he did the same, and you kissed him, forcing all the love and adoration you had for him into it. And you could feel him shake against you. “Oh, Bradley,” you said, pulling him to you tightly as he buried his face into your skin. You could feel his stinging tears but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. So, you let him cry. And you cried, but it just affirmed how much you loved him and how much you needed each other.

Kissing your hair, Bradley whispered he would see you at home tonight. You nodded, gently touching his waist, not wanting to show too much affection while his squad, superiors, and friends were gathering to say goodbye to Ice.

You watched Bradley every moment of the procession while holding Grandpa’s hand, protectively from your position. They were eerily similar, stoic in training, eyes forward, strong, emotionless. “I’ll go back to the Kazanskys’ with Grandpa, Grandma and Ma for a little while. Are you able to get away for a bit?” you hoped. He gave a small shake of the head.

“I can’t, sorry, love. I’ll see Mrs K when this is all over and pass along my condolences properly. I don’t think Mav got an exemption either. It’s all too close, with everything pushed up a week and I’ll probably be late.”

You tried to hide the way your shiver could easily be constructed as plain cold fear, but he didn’t admit it if he noticed. “Can you message me when you’re on your way home?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” he said faintly.

“Be safe, baby,” you told him as he nodded and licked his lips, kissing your temple tenderly. “I have to go. I love you,” he said, whispering purposefully into your skin, not wanting anyone else to know or hear how much those words meant to him. It felt like there wasn’t a sentence that ‘I love you’ was punctuated at the end of the last 48 hours. It reassured you and the last few days had scared you both so dearly as you nodded gently. He stopped to shake Grandpa’s hand on the way past before following his squadron back to base.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” Grandpa asked, approaching you. He had been speaking with Maverick for a long while.

“Yeah,” you told him gently. You knew Grandpa wasn’t doing well; Ice had been one of his students and as he rose through the ranks, Grandpa had acted as a mentor as such for him. You needed to spend time with him today. He hated outliving his students. Your world was spinning, the men you loved were going through so much and you were trying, dear God how you were trying to be there for them, but you were struggling to keep your head above water too.

You reached for Grandpa’s hand as he gave a wry smile. It had been such a long time since you’d seen him in his dress blues, and the authority he demanded that day made you feel so proud that he still commanded as much respect today as he did all those years ago. As a child, this Navy shit was just a boring way to waste your time. It affected swimming, school, and regular kid shit until you got to your teens and Viper was close to retirement age, well, those years with the handsome officers in their suits… and now, with your own partner. And all the risks you’d taken for granted as a child for the families of officers that didn’t come home and the fear you felt for Bradley, his squad, for you.

You sighed, Jesus, your life was so ingrained in all this. And while you’d always known, it had never felt as precarious as it did at that moment. How quickly it could all end. And poor Ice was so sick… he’d made it as far through as far as it was written in the stars. You could only hope you and Bradley were afforded the same luxury.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Heyya! Can I request Marcy wu x gn!reader, where after being transported to amphibia Marcy finds them while out on a mission with the newts

Marcy Wu x Reader

A/n: Sorry for the late response (but I'm back on that fanfic grind so it's okay, so sorry) Requests are open!!

Summary: While on mission Marcy finds a person she thought was gone forever. Words: 884 Request: Hell yeah!!

Leaves crumbled under the pressure of several people walking by, cutting through the hedges and bushes, trying to get the thick sticks of theirs to let go of the tree’s trunk. Sighing, one of the Newts cursed under their breath, the Chief Ranger, Marcy, looked back at them, noticing her doing so, they apologized profusely, and with that they retired to the back of the squad. The Chief Ranger looked puzzled but shook it off, looking at the second leader of the mission; Newtopian Army General – General Yunnan.

The tall, pinkish Newt was talking about something related to their current mission and its goal, but Marcy seemed slightly out of it, before focusing on the conversation again. The sun was setting, leaving a shiny marking on Yunnan’s Newtopian-issued armor, her military insignia beamed with a golden flicker. – Our objective is quite easy, compared to the things I’ve done before; secure a shady place in these woods, featuring some kind of camp full of suspected rebels. That’ll be easy enough. – Yunnan said, proudly thinking about the Sand Wars, lost in the memories of her victories and glory. 

The Chief Ranger smiled, since Yunnan is so confident it surely will be the easiest mission they were tasked with yet. Soon, the Newtopian force came to a halt, General looked at her second commander of the mission; Marcy Wu. Looking forward she spoke up. – You, go scout ahead, come back and tell us the situation. – The slender Newt told the girl as she nodded, grinning. 

– You got it General. – She gave Yunnan a thumbs up and headed towards the camp, she had about twenty minutes to get there, at one point deciding to climb up, trying to see if there’s anything before her she should be aware of, seeing nothing she decided to get down. The raven haired girl took out her journal, keeping the track of all things new before her, finally, she got to the camp just to discover it ghostly empty, not a single soul in sight, strolling around, she sketched the small tent and things around it, noting to its very human-like architecture. 

She saw that the tent’s roof was made of clothing with the passionate colors of ivory paired with platinum, almost gold. Marcy, lost in reverie, wondered deeply about the origin of such august, almost regal piece of material in a rugged campsite in the seclusion of this part of wilderness. Her fascination made her quite oblivious to the surroundings around her, otherwise she would’ve noticed a match of two eyes, mirroring the luster of the setting sun. Slowly, the person emerged, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Only if Marcy had her hood off, you would’ve recognized your childhood friend before attacking. 

The blade of your weapon, a small dagger, neatly fit to your palm, dazzled. Showcasing your pupils on its edge. Slowly, step by step, you crept towards the Chief Ranger. Unluckily, you stepped on a branch, the crunch alerting Marcy, she quickly turned around, but to her demise, fell tripping on her cape, and as she looked up to her opponent, a blade made its way to her neck, making her stop in place. Gazing up she saw something she couldn’t believe – her dear friend, one of three lost in Amphibia, you. 

A shocked expression made its way on her face, you were different than she remembered you to be. Scars coating your face, once oh so delicate, now vigorous and rugged. She quickly took notice of your now more athletic, muscular build as you towered above. 

All she could muster out was a one worded question. –  Y/N..? – You looked at her as your face softened, the edge of your blade slightly lowering before you dropped it. – Is it really you? – She said, as she took off her hood leaving you without a doubt. 

You tackled her into a hug as she fell back, both of you laughing and crying tears of joy. You slightly moved, to look down at her and get a full glimpse of your lost flame, both of your faces heated up as you smiled. – Marcy!

Sitting up you gazed at her, she propped herself up on her elbows before going in for another hug, her hands resting on your neck, yours followed soon, missing the contact with her you rested them on her waist, snuggly holding onto her, hiding them under her cape. – I thought I would never see you again.. – You said, breaking the hug and looking at her, your faces just inches away. – Me too… 

Everything felt silent, just for a second, as she stared softly at your lips, as you felt her get more and more tense, you decided to take the initiative. Your face burned as you closed the space between you two, closing it with a kiss. Marcy, shocked, soon melted into the kiss, closing her eyes. The two lovers breaking the kiss only when they finally needed to catch their breath, Marcy looked at you in amazement and shock, you assumed she never really kissed before, which was a fair assumption. 

– I really missed you.. – She said before, hiding her burning face in your shoulder, as you held her close to you, hoping this moment will never end.

[coldpintglass]

Ship bingo: southkane!!!

Oh Southkane my beloved 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿⚽️🦁👔

What was it you said recently about them Laura? 

“Theirs is a deeply ethical age gap power imbalance boss/employee workplace extramarital affair” 

What is it that makes two (let’s be honest) quite strait-laced and otherwise “reserved”men such an interesting ship? 

Gareth full on embracing and being as mentally/emotionally supportive as he can to the squad. We can certainly debate how successful he was bringing England to glory BUT he certainly was well liked and respected as a result of this angle (until the recently). This has got to be down to his calm, level headed and actually very paternal role (especially with younger players). With older players (think Hendo, Walker etc.) you’ve got a more “normal” gaffer role that Gareth plays. You can sorta draw a line in the sand between with WHO and WHAT role he leans his managerial style too. 

A good chunk (probs 50% at least) of his motivation for being a very hands on supportive manager comes from the ‘96 euro penalty. The other two reasons are he failed as a manager at a club level and he has personally watched/played for England when they were REALLY not doing well internationally. He is absolutely driven by a need to fix things and probably sees this as a “duty” as opposed to a dream job. He has to prove it can be done for himself AND the country. 

Despite having a level headed and calm approach to managing, it doesn’t mean he’s necessarily right OR fair in judgements. He absolutely has favourites, he tries to go with what his team thinks works but has no qualm overriding it if he doesn’t like it.

And who better represents that last point than Harold?

Harry Kane is one of the best strikers produced by England. Individually he has a glittering number of achievements (ie Golden Boot from the WC 2018). But he’s never won anything as part of a team. And boy, does that fact follow him. 

He is exceptionally hard working and  determined. In his chat with Gary Neville on the Overlap, he says he used his left foot to score exclusively for 6 months to train himself to be able to score with either. That’s NUTS. He also has no qualms saying he WANTS to go down as a legend, he wants to be able to reach a level like Messi or Ronaldo. 

As an individual, Harry is a nice(ish) lad. He loves being a husband and a dad. He feels representing England is a joy, it’s duty and it’s a privilege to do so. He takes being captain VERY seriously and tries to mirror support similar to Southgate (and I’d argue a bit more successfully)

Harold is a noted teachers pet. Hilariously so. Responds, respects and acknowledges authority like it’s breathing. Every manager loves working with him because they say jump and he’ll say how high. 

Gareth has been part of Harry’s international career since he was part of the U21s!!!! These guys go way back, and how electrifying must it be to be able to mold/support/shape someone like Harry into the England captain you want to lead the country? Gareth is just besotted with Harry through and through, the line between loving him as a son vs as your favourite student gets blurred big time. 

Harry Kane is Gareth Southgate’s favourite and it’s not even close (every time someone points this out, Jordan Henderson gets a headache) 

So together you have:

Two men who see playing/managing England as a duty more than a job, complementing each other wonderfully. Harry has said winning with England is great than a trophy with a club, he damn well means it. 

Managing England completely redefined Gareth’s history and public imagine (until recently lol). Harry Kane is THE best goal scorer for England of all time and love his country evidently. Their England careers have made them folklore hero’s 

A man who’s gone through the agony of being the face of England’s failure and is determined not to let that happen to any of the next generation (although well I have more nuanced thoughts on this but I digress), who saw Harry Kanes penalty miss in the WC and his life flashed before him, desperate not for history to repeat itself.

A man who only wants to do his country proud and tries so very hard but well, as we saw recently, that’s not always enough. 

Harry’s also generally good at holding himself together and his emotions but I think that’s been slipping lately as the weight of two big Euro failures and the real vocal negative response from the public is starting to eat away at him. Who better to turn to then the man who’s put you in that position? 

Also we started to see some cracks in their otherwise very picture perfect relationship as captain and gaffer. Some of the comments during the euros about each other got a bit….. pointed. And what is it about footblr girlies LOVING some angst huh? 

They’re both doomed by the narrative and impossibly similar and all in all it makes for such wonderful (and hot lmao) fiction. They probably het their unique experiences more than anyone else should. 

Finally:

Age gap, HELLO!!!!! I’m a shallow woman and not above admitting that little taboo element between these two makes it’s sooooooooo delicious. Opens it up to some utterly fucking hot kinks as well AND it gives adds a bit of interest to both men. 

Infidelity from either man is unlikely due to their characters and therefore fun to explore with each other 👀 Obviously it’s nicer to go with the No WAGs element but lmao be real. Come on now. You’re  shipping real people…. 

Neither of them (Southgate especially,  sorry Gareth) are classically handsome. Which tbh means I kinda like it a bit more, feels a bit more…. Likely? Does that make sense? 

I can see a case for either of them being a bit more in love than the other - blind devotion vs proud teacher, both are great tbh!

Sorry just want to say it here but both of them are cringe and a bit too earnest to a degree that I think Harry styles off as endearing but Gareth it comes across as off putting whoops ahahah 

Anyway. Wow okay. Southkane manifesto over I guess! I bet there is something I’ve missed which is hilarious considering how fucking long this is but please feel free to add in anything or go ham!!!! 

[ncisfranchise-source]

You may have questions before sampling CBS‘ NCIS: Origins, which launches Monday, Oct. 14 at 9/8c with a double-episode premiere.

Well, since Rule No. 15 tells us to “always work as a team,” let’s see if TVLine can’t dot some I’s and cross some T’s for you, ahead of the prequel spinoff’s debut.

Opening in 1991, NCIS: Origins follows a young Gibbs as he starts his career as a newly minted Special Agent at the NIS Camp Pendleton office. There, he will forge his place on a gritty, ragtag team led by the legendary Mike Franks.

Austin Stowell (A Friend of the Family, Secret Life of the American Teenager) fills the role of Gibbs (played on the original NCIS by, of course, Mark Harmon), while Kyle Schmid (SIX, Big Sky) channels a young Muse Watson as Franks.

The series regular cast also includes Mariel Molino (Promised Land) as Special Agent Lala Dominguez, a former Marine with a dark sense of humor; Tyla Abercrumbie (The Chi) as Field Operation Support Officer Mary Jo Hayes, who has wryly dubbed herself “HSIC” (Head Secretary in Charge); Diany Rodriguez (The Blacklist) as Special Agent Vera Strickland, a no-nonsense Brooklynite who’s tough as nails; and Caleb Foote (Made for Love) as Special Agent Benjamin “Randy” Randolf, the “golden boy” tasked with showing Gibbs the ropes.

Read on for answers to a dozen questions we had, and maybe you do, too….

01

DON'T WE KNOW ALL OF THIS ALREADY...?

To longtime NCIS fans who assume that across 19 seasons with Mark Harmon‘s Gibbs — including visits from Muse Watson’s Mike Franks and a smattering of flashback episodes starring Harmon’s son Sean as a young Gibbs — they already know everything about Jethro’s beginnings, “I would tell them, they don’t know as much as they think they do,” says co-showrunner David J. North.

On NCIS, “We talked about things, and we had little flashbacks that we went to, but that doesn’t come close to getting into the texture of what could be explored there,” North explains. “Seeing Gibbs arrive at NIS on Day 1, and seeing how Gibbs became Gibbs…. there’s so much to explore. Even for [co-showrunner] Gina [Monreal] and I, every day in the writers room is something new. When I was writing the mothership [NCIS], I never pictured Gibbs exactly like this, but of course he would have done that, of course there was a time when he actually learned where his gear is.”

Adds Monreal, “Gibbs as probie, we’ve not seen that before. We’ve not seen that dynamic between Gibbs and Franks.”

02

HOW WILL NCIS: ORIGINS DIFFER FROM ANY NCIS BEFORE IT?

The series’ co-showrunners had just reviewed the first dailies from the premiere before sitting down with TVLine, “and as proud as I am of what we’ve built at NCIS, this doesn’t look like that,” David J. North shares. “Tonally, we’re a little darker, and the whole look of the show, we wanted it to look current yet ’90s, and I think that our [set designer and DOP] delivered that perfectly.”

Monreal zeroes in on the juxtaposition of the “big orange” NCIS squad room where “they have everything their fingertips” and the Quonset Hut at Camp Pendleton from which Gibbs, Franks et al work: “It’s just so messy and gritty and underfunded, and that’s been really fun to explore.”

03

DOES YOUNG GIBBS HAVE FAULTS?

After all, the older Gibbs who we got to know over nearly 20 years of NCIS was the sharpest and savviest, if not chattiest, of Special Agents. But as a probie, will he have rough edges that need sanding?

“I wouldn’t call this a ‘fault,'” says Monreal, “but when we’re meeting him [in 1991], he’s so fresh out of the Marines, and that is a totally different perspective than we’ve seen. We’re seeing him transition to being a civilian and a civilian agent, and that gives him a different kind of shading than we’ve seen before.”

North then chimes in, alluding to the failed psych eval mentioned in the series’ trailer.

The recently widowed Gibbs’ “biggest fault, in a large, 30,000-foot sense, is taking a job as a Special Agent at NIS that he maybe is not ready for,” the EP offers.

04

IS MARK HARMON PROTECTIVE OF HIS 'YOUNGER SELF'?

Is Mark Harmon, as Gibbs’ longtime portrayer (and an executive producer on NCIS: Origins), protective of the character he created? Has he set up “guardrails” for just how green (or even bumbling) young Jethro can appear to be?

“No,” co-showrunner David J. North answers. Rather, “He’s as hands-on as we want him to be.”

Harmon is “there for us to talk through things, if Gina and I can’t come to a consensus on something,” North elaborates. “If we’re not sure which way to go, left or right at a fork in the road, and we need another opinion, he’s there for us. Mark’s not going to bulls–t you. And he’s certainly there for Austin [Stowell, who plays young Gibbs], which has been a huge thing and obviously is important to us.”

05

WHAT IS THE GIBBS/FRANKS DYNAMIC LIKE?

In two words? “Boss” and “probie,” says co-showrunner Gina Monreal.

“The way that Austin [Stowell] is playing it, the way he looks at Franks, you can see the bit of awe in his eyes, which is so interesting for both of the characters,” the EP shares.

“I describe them as ‘there’s nothing I love writing more,'” adds North. “Seeing Gibbs in these situations that you could have never imagined Mark in has been wonderful.”

Situations such as…?

“The other day, Gina and I said to Mark, ‘Did Gibbs ever ride in the back seat of car?’ And Mark said never, in 20 years. Because Gibbs was the leader.” So, expect to witness that “first” in the series premiere.

06

AGENT VERA STRICKLAND? THAT'S A DEEP PULL, NO?

Diany Rodriguez’s Special Agent Vera Strickland is a character first played by Roma Maffia once — and only once — in a random Season 11 episode of NCIS. “It is a deep pull,” co-showrunner Gina Lucita Monreal acknowledges, “but we looked at the timeline and she would have been there [at Camp Pendleton]. She was described [on NCIS] as Franks’ first partner,” though that is no longer the case when Origins opens… and for conspicuously vague reasons.

“Vera has some mysterious elements as well,” Monreal teases, “so being able to flesh out a character that was so clearly defined in that one [NCIS] episode has been really fun, for sure.”

07

WHAT SCENE STEALERS SHOULD WE WATCH FOR?

Tyla Abercrumbie as “Head Secretary in Charge” Mary Jo “is dynamite,” raves co-showrunner Monreal. Adds North: “She’s so, so good.”

But most every character gets a fun moment to shine in the double-episode premiere. “There’s a scene between Mariel (as Lala) and Diany (Vera) that’s really great, and powerful,” North previews.

08

WILL WE MEET A YOUNG DWAYNE PRIDE? HETTY LANGE?

Younger versions of Mike Franks and Vera Strickland (characters played on NCIS by Muse Watson and Roma Maffia) appear on NCIS: Origins. In success, could the prequel one day also cast/introduce Gibbs to circa-1991 versions of Dwayne Pride (played on NCIS: New Orleans by Scott Bakula) and/or Hetty Lange (NCIS: LA‘s Linda Hunt)– the former of which Jethro met as a young agent? “Sure!” affirms North. “I don’t think we want to say no to anything.”

09

WAIT, HOW CAN GIBBS' ESTRANGED DAD BE A PART OF THIS?

When the late Ralph Waite first guested on NCIS, it was established that Gibbs and his father had not spoken since Jethro’s wife Shannon’s funeral, in 1991. So, how will Longmire‘s Robert Taylor figure into NCIS: Origins, playing a younger Jackson?

Addressing the canonical conundrum, co-showrunner David J North says, “We did solve it. We’re very aware of the canon and what’s been set up, and we’re working within that. But I’ll say this: Jackson is an important role, and we’ll see the influence of him on Gibbs.” 

10

REMIND US, WHAT IS '90S CRIMESOLVING TECH LIKE?

Gotta reach an agent in the field? Ping their beeper.

Need to report back to the office? Hunt down a pay phone, or use the wall phone in the dead petty officer’s kitchen.

Need to walk everyone through the evidence? No smart boards here! Grab a bunch of thumbtacks.

Such 1991 constraints are “wonderful,” North avows, because “it pushes you to solve the stories in ways that’s not just fingers flying over a keyboard, or answers popping up for Kasie in the lab. It pushes us to go further into character, and that’s what we’ve done.”

11

WILL THIS 'GRITTIER' NCIS STILL HAVE HUMOR?

Yes, by way of the characters played by Caleb Foote (“golden boy” Special Agent “Randy” Randolf) and SNL vet Bobby Moynihan (forensics lab boss Woody Browne), among others.

“Woody is this overworked guy who’s working the forensics/fingerprints thing, but [in 1991] everything takes forever,” North says with a laugh. “The crew had to try to stop from laughing when [Bobby] was shooting, he’s that good.”

12

IS THERE A REASON WHY ADULT GIBBS, AS NARRATOR, IS TELLING US THIS STORY? NOW?

Yes, NCIS vet Mark Harmon will occasionally appear on-screen, as the older Gibbs relays this story of his NIS beginnings… to anyone in particular?

Why is he looking back on this time in his life? Now? Is he being interviewed? Writing a book? Maybe it’s (gulp) an epitaph of sorts?

There is a reason, North assured me.

He and co-showrunner Monreal later elaborated in an email, “As the creators of the show, we viewed Gibbs telling his own story as an enormous opportunity to actually get into the head of one of the most iconic, enigmatic characters ever.

“As far as how we’re getting this peek behind the curtain — meaning, in what way exactly is our beloved Gibbs telling us his story? — that will be answered on October 14th,” they promised.

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Masterlist

Keys = 💚-angst/comfort. 🩷-fluff. 💙angst/no comfort. ❤-suggestive content. 🧡-ambiguous

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Crimson rain and golden sands (finnick odair x reader)💚🩷

Game of Thrones

Hearts Of Fire (Daenerys targaryen x f!reader x Khal drogo(slightly)🩷❤️

Divergent

Nothing yet...

Suicide squad

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The Maze Runner

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Charmed

Sanctuary in her arms (piper halliwell x f!reader) ♥️🩷

House M.D.

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The Last Of Us

Echoes Of The Past (Joel miller x platonic!gn!reader)💚

Other fandom fics

Running Back To You (Pietro Maximoff X f!reader 💚🩷)

Analysis section:

Sydney Prescott x Stu Macher

[bobfloydsbabe]

burst into flames for you | jake "hangman" seresin x oc

Rating: T+

Prompt: N/A

Requested: N/A

Summary: After the mission, Jas confesses why she's been ignoring Jake. Part of the Turning Tables anthology series.

Warnings: Angst, brief mention of amputation (non-graphic), incorrect medical info, incorrect Navy info, kissing.

Word count: ~2.2k

A/N: This is probably one of the Jas and Jake fics I'm most proud of. There is so much Jas backstory. Thank you, as always, to @joaquinwhorres for letting me namedrop your OCs, Caro and Dalia, and for helping me figure out why the original ending was off. Title is from I'm With You by Vance Joy. Enjoy, friends!

Likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are golden.

Meet me at the Hard Deck. Please.

Jake knew it was serious because Jas never said please. Even when she was under him and on the edge of coming undone, she wouldn’t say please. She wouldn’t beg for it. That one word sent Jake out the door of his barrack room and off to the bar.

It was mid-morning on a Saturday, and Penny had opened early. He pushed the front door with the chipped paint open and walked inside, scanning the room. He didn’t spot Jas anywhere, only Penny and a few patrons nursing coffee rather than beer.

He stalked towards the bar, locking eyes with Penny, confusion on his face. Jas had texted him to meet her there, but now she was gone?

“She’s down by the water,” Penny told him when he was close enough to hear her. He mumbled a quick thank you and headed for the door leading out to the deck. 

There, in the distance, Jas sat on the sand facing the ocean. It was cloudier than usual, but the sun still bounced off her hair, making it look shinier. He rested his hands on the deck railing for a minute, gathering up the courage to make the short trek to her.

Jake squared his shoulders, walked down the steps, and trudged through the sand. He stopped a few feet behind her and took a deep breath. 

Please.

The word still lingered in his mind. Jas rarely texted him. In fact, she had spent weeks refusing to give him her number, but finally relented a few days before the mission. She’d made him promise to let her know he was alive.

“I’d say quit staring at my ass, but you can’t see it, so just quit staring.”

“You have a great ass,” he said, closing the last bit of distance between them. When he sat, he could see the grin Jas was biting back.

“So you’ve told me,” she agreed.

“I’d never lie to you, Doc.”

At that, her jaw clenched. She didn’t like it when he called her Doc. At least, that’s what she’d told him frequently, though it was usually right before they slept together.

“I know.”

For a while, they just sat there staring at the sea. They listened to the waves meeting the shore and seagulls screeching above them. Jake looked at Jas. Her auburn hair looked red in this light, and her blue eyes matched that of the endless sea while he was on the carrier. She had freckles on her nose that’d become more noticeable since he’d met her. Her lips were pink and plush. Kissable.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said, filling the silence. 

He’d texted her as soon as they got back on dry land, hoping for a response, but none came. He’d gone to the Hard Deck that night to celebrate their success with the dagger squad, but Jas didn’t show. When he asked Caro if she knew where Jas was, she’d informed him she wasn’t coming. 

Jas had gone radio silent, and Caro, Bob, and Fanboy kept their mouths shut on the matter. He’d even tried to intimidate Bob into telling him why she wasn’t there, but the bespectacled aviator had stood his ground, and Jake respected that even if he hated him a little for it. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, mostly joking.

Jas turned her head to him. “Do you know why I’m stationed here?”

He shook his head, brows furrowed. Jas looked back at the ocean.

Jake watched her shift uncomfortably in the sand, folding and unfolding her hands where they rested on her shins. He had never seen Jas like this before.

“It was a demotion.” Before Jake could ask what she meant, she continued. “I used to serve on the USS Nimitz. After an attack on our aviators, one of them came back with a severely injured leg. My commanding officer decided we should amputate. I insisted I could save it, but he told me it was futile and gave me a direct order to amputate.”

“But you didn’t?”

Jas shook her head, a watery chuckle escaping her throat. It made Jake move closer, and when she didn’t flinch away, he bumped his shoulder with hers, silently encouraging her to go on.

“I told the nurses, the anesthesiologist, and everyone else that we had to go ahead to save his leg.”

Jake wanted to wrap his arms around Jas and comfort her as the tears ran down her cheeks. There was something deeply vulnerable about this moment. It was like being thrown into the deep end of Jas’ conscience and left to his own devices.

Sink or swim, Seresin.

Jas took a deep breath and continued her story. “It took three hours, but I saved his leg with no nerve damage, sudden bleeds, or anything like that. He didn’t lose his leg, and he didn’t have to be discharged on medical grounds. He needed a lot of physical therapy, but he’d be able to fly again.”

“There are consequences of disobeying a direct order,” Jake said. He didn’t know what else to say. 

Jas gave off a humorless laugh and wiped at the tears still running down her face in steady streams. “My file has a long list of citations for insubordination, but this was the final nail in the coffin. I should be grateful they didn’t kick me out.”

“You don’t like being told what to do,” Jake observed.

At that, Jas chuckled again and finally turned her red-rimmed blue eyes to him. “No,” she agreed. “The Surgeon General, Admiral Warren, personally reviewed my file and sent me here as punishment. I’m working the most boring, deadbeat office in the entire Navy by prescribing more Advil and cough medicine to grown men than I can count. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

Jake hummed while Jas leaned her chin on her knees, studying the waves again. The clouds were slowly disappearing, making space for a bright day in California, a sharp contrast to Jas’ gloomy mood.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Jas let a deep breath go. The silence between them stretched for longer than he was comfortable with, but he knew that pushing the woman next to him wouldn’t do either of them any good. So he stayed silent.

“I lost something I cared about when I was demoted,” she told him and spun in the sand so she was facing him. Jake mirrored her action, folding his legs down in front of him.

“When all of you left for that mission, I held Caro all night as she cried. She was terrified of losing Mickey, of giving her daughter a taste of him only to have him possibly ripped away.”

Jake nodded. He remembered Fanboy pacing up and down the corridor outside their bunks after Maverick chose him and Payback to fly. In a poor attempt at reconciliation, Jake had tried to assure him he would be fine, only to get his feelings for Jas thrown back in his face. He’d never seen Fanboy that upset, not even when he had punched Jake for talking shit.

Jas looked down at the sand where her toes had slipped under his crossed legs. He could feel her wiggle them through the material of his jeans. “When you left for that mission,” she whispered and looked to meet his gaze. “I thought I was going to lose something I cared about.”

Jake’s breath hitched at the admission. He knew where he stood and had known it for a while, but was afraid to push Jas into something she wasn’t ready for. Something she may not even want.

But right now, sitting in front of him, she admitted that she cared about him. He fought every impulse in his body to surge forward and kiss her senseless. He looked at Jas, really looked at her, and saw the fragility that had crept into her demeanor. He kept quiet, but offered a small smile of encouragement.

“I didn’t know I cared. I didn’t know why I couldn’t breathe when you were gone, why I clung to my phone, waiting for a sign that you were alive and coming back. I didn’t know why I cried almost uncontrollably after Caro fell asleep, why I took Dalia for ice cream seven times, or why Martha was on my back about keeping up with charts.”

Jas took a shaky breath and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. “Then you texted you were alive and coming back, and it hit me. I’d been so distracted because I cared about losing you. This,” she said and gestured between them, “is more than just sex.”

Jake hesitated. He was happy that Jas felt the same way, but there was a nagging question he couldn’t let go. “You didn’t show at our welcome home thing.”

Jas hung her head again, wiping tears off her cheeks. “If it helps, Caro yelled at me for that. Said you seemed disappointed, and that she sent Dalia to cheer you up.”

At that, Jake smiled. “She’s a good kid.”

He expected Jas to look back up at him, but she didn’t. She wiped more tears off her face, and Jake’s chest tightened at the sight. The sinking disappointment he’d felt when Caro told him she wasn’t coming and the fiery frustration he felt being given the silent treatment evaporated as he watched her cry for him.

He reached out a hand, placing it under her chin, and applied light pressure to get her to look up. Her blue eyes met his, and he lost his breath again. Jas was the first girl in a long time who had challenged him, who had made the chase almost cruel and the possibility of her being his the sweetest reward.

He dropped his hand, not wanting to force his touch on Jas, who was in such a fragile state he was afraid to break her.

“So why ignore me?”

She kept her eyes trained on him this time, as if forcing herself to face the hurt she’d caused. “Because this,” she said, gesturing between them again, “scares the shit out of me.”

Jake softened, the tension leaving his shoulders for the first time. He reached his hand out again, pausing mid-air to see if Jas would flinch, but when she didn’t, he cupped her cheeks. He ran a thumb across the skin, catching a stray tear as it fell.

“It’s not just sex to me either,” he admitted, and it didn’t make his lungs constrict. “I’m scared, too.”

He was. He was scared shitless to want Jas as desperately as he did. Jake had always been a one and done guy. Since high school, his mom had given him disapproving looks when he showed a girl to the door in the morning, never to be seen in the house again. Jake had dated casually most of his life, but everything about Jas made his stomach flip, and when she didn’t talk to him, he felt hollow.

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship,” Jas whispered, reaching up and grabbing Jake’s wrist. She pulled the hand off her cheek and kissed his palm, making Jake’s pulse race. “But I want to try. With you.”

When her gaze returned to his, he grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “We’ll figure it out together,” he whispered back and hoped it sounded like a promise.

He leaned forward and finally captured Jas’ lips in a kiss, pouring everything he still had left to say into it. They still had so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but he meant it when it said they’d do it together.

Jake tried to pull away, but Jas chased his lips and he smiled into it. One of his hands slid around her neck and into her hair, and he scraped his blunt nails over her scalp, coaxing a moan from her lips.

He pulled away and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“You gonna take me home, Seresin?”

He welcomed the grin that spread across his face, and he rose to his feet, holding his hand out for Jas to take.

“Every damn day, Doc,” he replied as she landed on her feet in front of him. She snuck her arms around his neck and leaned in for another soft kiss, not caring that a group of kids were passing by them as their lips met.

They broke apart and made their way up the beach towards the parking lot. Jake’s arm was slung over Jas’ shoulder, and she leaned into him. It was like she was made for him.

A ping sounded, and Jas pulled her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, groaning at the text that had rolled in.

“What?” Jake asked, leading her towards his car.

“Caro asked if I wanted to have drinks tonight.”

Jake frowned. “And that’s bad?”

Jas opened the passenger side door, resting an arm on the roof and looked at Jake. “No, but she’s gonna be really smug about us being a thing now.”

“A thing, you say?”

Jas groaned. “You’re infuriating.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jake chuckled and got into the car. Once they were on the road, he grabbed Jas’ hand and kissed her knuckles.

❋❋❋

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[oceansssblue]

~ [MAGICAL CREATURES SERIES] – THE BAD BATCH AU (N4)

Pt5. "THE SMELL OF FIRE" HUNTER/PHOENIX!OFC

THERE'S SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENING IN THE SMALL MOON PLACED ON THE EDGES OF THE GALAXY WITH THE UNKOWN REGIONS. THEIR PEOPLE ARE RESERVED AND SECRETIVE; TRYING TO APPEAR NORMAL, THOUGH HUNTER HEAVILY SUSPECTS THEY AREN'T. HIS NOSE EASILY PICKS UP THE SMELL OF ASH AND FIRE.

WARNINGS (Pt5): FIGHT DESCRIPTIONS, WOUNDED CHARACTERS, MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND SCARS, BURNS, AND PAST CHILDHOOD TRAUMA (FIRE ACCIDENT).

Link for part 1:

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The night had turned off most of Aodh's usual faint glowing lights; dulling the ever shining highlights of the moon's silvery sand. Though not in full silence, the tribe seemed to be quieter than usual at such late hours; the oldest collecting the excess of food that wasn't eaten at dinner in order to save it for another day. Hunter had just finished his; the usual combination of a sweet sticky flower nectar and an array of different seeds. It was a weird diet for the clone; but if he was being honest, nutri-bars didn't taste much better. Omega even seemed to enjoy these.

It was thanks to this quietness –only a few murmurs and small laughs of the children here and there– that Hunter was able to hear a small dripping sound not so far to them. His ears twitched involuntarily, and his eyes quickly made a detailed scan around him while Tech and Wrecker continued their argument. He couldn't see as well in the dark as Crosshair; so it took him longer than he would have liked to realise the source of the noise.

His eyes finally landed on the lake behind the first line of trees. There was no creature to be seen; but he could barely make out the riples in the water, as if something were moving fast under it.

He made a hand gesture to his squad and they all went silent, suddenly as alert and focused as him.

Hunter's eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" Omega whispered.

The expert tracker then locked his attention on a black rounded shape slowly rising above the surface of the lake. The colors were so similar to it that it was difficult to separe it's figure from the water; but two seconds later, dark purple eyes revealed themselves, and Hunter inmediatelly understood what it meant.

"Chitari" he warned, hand slowly moving towards his unseparatable vibro-blade.

As if summoned, the beasts simultaneously jumped out of the water, and quickly pounced onto the distracted natives; havoc setting loose. Screams echoed throughout the forest; and while each batcher inmediately stood up and drawed their respective weapons, flashes of light and fire spread throughout the camp. In front of them, half of the natives turned to their animal shape –that burnt and ashy smell growing stronger each second–; while others looked lost and scared.

"The kids and elders can't transform" Hunter realised, clenching his jaw "Protect them".

The order needn't be repeated twice. The Batch quickly movilised; advancing between the trees with their weapons ready to use. Wrecker and Omega ran to help those of old age, while the other three of them quickly formed a circle around the kids of the tribe. Other natives had prioritised the same thing; an array of what Tech had confirmed a few days ago as phoenixes completing the circle as well. Some where orange, some looking almost golden. Bigger or smaller, slightly different features in their bodies. If something was clear, it was that they all had powerful beaks and claws, and they were ready to give their all.

Hunter had to pull himself together when he encountered his first Chitari face to face. He had seen hundreds of different species along the galaxy; but this... This creatures easily blended into the night, only a quick flash of purple serving as a warning before the first strike, and they felt oscure, almost demonic. The tribe believed themselves to be part of a fire spirit, of what Hunter had thought to be some manifestation of the Force. He questioned if that same logic meant that this creatures where part of the dark side of it, a concentrated corrupted kind of energy that resided only in the most dangerous Siths.

He managed to dodge the beasts paws by only a pair of centimeters; it's powerfull sharp claws leaving their mark on his left pauldron. He cursed and rolled out of the way of the second attack; quickly using the oportunity to turn around and take a swipe against the animal's skin. Raw fear and worry filled his chest when he realised his knife did nothing to the dark skin, seemingly impenetrable. How... How had the tribe skinned this animals, then?

One of the phoenixes intercepted the next strike of the Chitari over him; and Hunter watched as the bird aimed towards one of his eyes with his beak. In one quick powerfull movement, the phoenix pierced the Chitari's purple eye; and the animal screeched in pain. Both irises seemed to dull in color to almost black and a purple light rippled through the animals skin. The phoenix then rammed his beak and claws onto the beast's back and pulled; another screech and Hunter could see the Chitari's pale under skin.

He had no fucking idea how it all worked; but he understood how to fight them now, and he was quick to open his com, pressing onto his vambrace.

"Aim for the eyes" he pointed out, quickly dodging another attack and taking advantage of the intervention of a different phoenix to jump on the Chitari's massive form. "It somehow eliminates their skin resistance".

While the phoenix and the Chitari wounded each other and tried to pull their skins off, Hunter pounced and plunged his vibro-blade onto the animals left eye; the phoenix making a echoing shrill sound before tearing apart his belly with his claws.

In the middle of what seemed to be an endless assault, Hunter catched a flash of light with the corner of his eyes. A glance was all he needed to understand; the phoenix was spitting flames of fire, and red feathers blended with its black body. It was Alinta, fiercely keeping the Chitari away from the children of her tribe; which meant her father was alone in their cabin, as he always had his food there as to not strain himself too much at such a tiring hour of the night.

Hunter ordered his brothers to hold their position and ran.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Alinta had only experienced that level of fear once before in her life. The nightmare he often dreamed about; the trauma that still haunted her. But she had been with the rest of the tribe when the Chitari had pounced on them; had had to soldier on and protect the children, the future of their clan. It had been a difficult, hourly fight. They had won –though not without loss–; and only when just a few Chitari had remained alive, Alinta had deemed it safe to abandon her tribe to themselves, and rush to her father's cabin. She prayed the Chitaris hadn't found their way towards it yet, distracted by the congregation of natives ten minutes away; but she couldn't help but feel dreadful, with high chances that he would find his dad... Dead.

And he had looked dead, at first; but underneath all the dirt and blood, no matter if his body was weirdly sprawled on the ground or how much he trembled, Alinta had quickly found out he was very much alive. And she had broken into childish sobs at that.

"Dad..." she whinned, holding his upper body towards his chest, caressing his hair.

The man pulled a tired smile on his face and hummed.

"I'm alright, little bird. It's all superficial wounds. Hunter came in right in time".

Alinta blinked, and her eyes turned sharply towards the dead Chitari she had already noticed upon her arrival; only now repairing on the clone's figure standing at the other side of the massive beast, bloody vibroblade still in hand. Alinta's breath hitched, and her red stare travelled it's way towards the Chitari's wounded eye; then back down to the blood oozing down his mouth and neck. Hunter had... Hunter had saved his father, and that... That wonderful, beautiful strong human had killed the beast all by himself.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hunter had helped Alinta to carry her trembling father inside their cabin towards his bed and patiently waited as she cleaned him and dressed his wounds with some sort of herbal medicine. They had been silent all throughout it; not wanting to disturb the wounded man, who had quickly fallen into a light slumber with the drop of the adrenaline. Hunter also knew Alinta had been terrified of losing him –it had been heartbreaking to see her reaction upon arriving–; and gave her the peace needed to process the recent events.

"She always guilt" the voice of the elder suddenly spoke up, almost giving Hunter a scare. "Inside. I close to die, she small. No her do, no... No know, but she guilt".

Alinta had left them momentarily to get more medicine from the tribe –both for his father and Hunter himself–; and the clone had been left alone with the man. The elder had apparently found the ocasion to be perfect to finally explain that bit of their past. Hunter felt a bit guilty finding out that information without the woman's presence; but it felt wrong to interrumpt, so he listened.

He listened how Alinta had woken up one day with their cabin covered in fire, walls and bed burning in flames and all around her. Her seven year old self had cried in fear; anguish only momentarily soothed by his father's bursting figure running through the growing fire towards her. But when her dad had tried to pull her into his embrace, ready to abandon the place, the flames had only switched from her skin towards his; licking up his hands and arms, making him scream in pain. She had screamed too, terrified; and watched helpessly as her father passed out from the pain and dropped heavily to the ground. She had quickly jumped out of bed, tried to desperately tug him out of the crumbling cabin; but had realised it only made his condition worsen, it only made the fire extend further from her to him, and she had been forced to give up on him. She had cried a thousend apologies before turning and running away; confused and terrified by how the fire didn't seem to hurt her, but trying to get help from anyone on the tribe as well. The fire had been washed down, and the gravely injured body of his father had been treated by Egon's most strong medicines for months. Parts of his skin had been completely burnt, scars and ugly dried wounds marking him forever; still calling Alinta's accident years later, when she had finally learnt to control herself.

"Little bird guilt. I see. I know. But she no guilt. I know. She... Know too, but hard accept sometime. Need people remind her" the man explained, his voice quiet and soft in the loneliness of their cabin.

Hunter's heart clenched.

"I know you and her" he continued, surprising the clone with his calmed, unacussing voice. "Remind her. Remind her to breathe. She always protect tribe. Protect me. If only a moment, help her live".

Hunter's mind swirled with thoughts and feelings. He felt lost for a minute; before taking a deep breath and accepting what he had already known for almost a week now –maybe longer–. Finding himself.

His deep chocolate eyes stared onto Alinta's father's bright ones. He nodded; a honest, solemn dip of his chin.

"I'll try my best".

END OF PART FIVE

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PART SIX HERE:

YO GUYSSSS WE'RE ALMOST FINISHED WITH THIS STORY! WE'VE ONLY GOT ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT (THAT WILL INCLUDE OUR CHARACTERS CAVING IN AND A SORT OF CLOSEUP) AND WE'RE DONE!

I HOPE YOUR LIKING THIS STORY, LET ME KNOW! REBLOG IF U CAN!

LET ME KNOW TOO IF U WANNA BE TAGGED FOR NEXT CHAP OR ANY OF MY WORK.

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

Xx,

Sky.

Link to my general masterlist:

Link to magical creatures series:

[redfurrycat]

🤠Navy - Not A Pilot!Jake Seresin Fic Recs🤠

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

Ao3 Authors: Dalearden, Flyingfightingfishy, Infinitejaust, Lemqnie, Renai_chan, SunMonTue.

Note. Feel free to drop any recs you may have that fit the recs list.

Any ship (and rating) is welcome! 🥰

Navy - Not A Pilot!Bradley Bradshaw > Not Navy - Still A Flyboy At Heart

Watching, I Keep Waiting by infinitejaust {G}

British Navy Captain / Hangster

Bradley determinedly did not let himself think of the past, of that one golden summer with Jacob Seresin, younger brother of the Admiral. Whether now-Captain Jacob Seresin would be spending any time in his older brother’s new household, Bradley did not know. At least he would be removed to Bath, and mercifully not subjected to any awkward reunions if Captain Seresin did return. [A Persuasion retelling]

in another life by lemqnie {M}

WSO / Hangster

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is too afraid to take up his own Weapons System Officer. He meets WSO Jake "Hangman" Seresin, and the fear gets worse: he falls in love with him.

You Make Me Live by Renai_chan {E}

US Naval Academy > Pilot / Hangster

Once upon a time, Jake met Rooster. Eight years later, he's a freshman at the US Naval Academy, and Bradley Bradshaw comes back into his life. Except, they've both grown up, and with growth, paths diverge.

play stupid games, win stupid prizes by dalearden {M}

Comfort crew member (still a Pilot) / Hangster

The Navy knows how important it is to provide comfort to its people (including sex) so they created a function of a comfort crew member, who aside from his military duties also provides sexual services to his fellow soldiers. Managed well - it can get you many useful connections and career prospects, but there are also many who see comfort crew members as whores and not real military. Jake became a comfort crew member for his previous squads and he was doing it for years. When after the mission brass creates a permanent Dagger squad, the Team is offered a choice of a comfort crew member and are shocked that Jake is on the list. And Jake - he is ready to show them just how good he is in what he is doing. That is of course if Rooster doesn’t murder his teammates first to get rid of the competition. Give me confident, sexy Jake who takes pride in his skills both - as a pilot and sex god and pining jealous Rooster. Bonus: a new aviator is assigned to the squad and he and his WSO are trying to shame Jake, but Hangman doesn’t give a shit about their opinion.

Somebody to Lean On by flyingfightingfishy {T}

US Naval Academy / Hangster

To say that Bradley's first impression of Jake was poor would be an understatement. He found the man arrogant, annoying, and unable to admit when he was wrong (although he probably shouldn't look too closely in the mirror when he said that). When he hears that Jake got violently airsick, he thinks maybe it will teach the man a lesson. To his surprise, it ends up teaching them both a lesson. OR Overcoming airsickness isn't a destination, it's a journey that's all about the friends (and lovers) we meet along the way.

It's not who you know by SunMonTue {M}

Flight School / Hangster

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

[bearterritory]

#8 Cal Wins Opening Weekend

Bears Are Flawless in Dispatching Four Opponents

BERKELEY – The No. 8 ranked California beach volleyball team closed out its opening weekend at the Clark Kerr Sand Courts with straight wins, beating all four opponents by a score of 5-0. In fact, with their victories over Saint Mary's, Santa Clara, American River and San Jose State they only dropped a single set.

"It was really exciting being able to open at home this year in front of our fans and supporters," Cal head coach Meagan Owusu said. "It was fun to see a bunch of new players in the lineup. It's a new squad, so we're just growing and getting to know the strengths that this specific group has and rolling with that."

Cal 5, Saint Mary's 0 The Golden Bears (4-0) got out to a fast start to the day as their first two pairs flew through their opening sets. Sophomore Portia Sherman and junior Ella Dreibholz started with a 21-11 win. After falling behind 13-8 in set two, they quickly rallied and pulled away late to take it 21-17.

Across the way, junior Ella Sears and freshman Kendall Peters cruised to a 21-12 opening-set victory before dropping set two 24-22. They broke a 9-9 tie in the decisive third set with three straight points, closing out the Bears' first nailbiter of the season with a 15-12 win.

Kicking off the next set of matches, sophomore duo Marilu Pally and Gia Fisher rallied from five points down in set one and never looked back, claiming a 21-17, 21-9 victory. Senior Brooke Buchner and graduate student Lara Boos broke out of a pair of close sets, holding off a pair of SMU (1-1) comeback attempts in a 21-19, 21-16 sweep.

The No. 1 pair of Emma Donley and Alexandria Young-Gomez finished things off with a dominant 21-10, 21-13 win in the final match against the Gaels.

1 Emma Donley and Alexandria Young-Gomez (CAL) def. Sedona Sherman and Sadie Shipman (SMU)  21-10, 21-13 2 Marilu Pally and Gia Fisher (CAL) def. Hannah Couch and Hawley Harrer (SMU) 21-17, 21-9 3 Brooke Buchner and Lara Boos (CAL) def. Allie Cataldo and Angie Bour (SMU) 21-19, 21-16 4 Portia Sherman and Ella Dreibholz (CAL) def. Karmin Brown and AJ Slojkowski (SMU) 21-11, 21-17 5 Ella Sears and Kendall Peters (CAL) def. Paola Peralta and Nya Crump (SMU) 21-12, 22-24, 15-12

Order of finish: 4 5 2 3 1

No. 8 Cal 5, Santa Clara 0 In their afternoon matchup with the Broncos (0-2), the Bears comfortably handled every set by at least four points. Pally and Fisher went 21-8, 21-17 while Sherman and Dreibholz won 21-15, 21-17.

None of the Bears' final three pairs gave up more than 13 points in a set. Donley and Young-Gomez won set one 21-13 and finished things off on a cheeky bump winner to take set two 21-11. Sophomores Amelia Vugrincic and Jenna Colligan jumped out to 16-6 leads in both sets en route to a 21-13, 21-11 victory. Buchner and Boos ended the day with wins of 21-12 and 21-9.

1 Emma Donley and Alexandria Young-Gomez (CAL) def. Katie Kishton and Elena Radeff (SCU) 21-13, 21-11 2 Marilu Pally and Gia Fisher (CAL) def. Ella Duffner and Noelle Niederman (SCU) 21-8, 21-17 3 Brooke Buchner and Lara Boos (CAL) def. Casey Campbell and Sveva Munneke (SCU) 21-12, 21-12 4 Portia Sherman and Ella Dreibholz (CAL) def. Jordan Bennett and Hailey Benesz (SCU) 21-15, 21-17 5 Amelia Vugrincic and Jenna Colligan (CAL) def. Alexie Epstein and Alexia Gallegos (SCU) 21-12, 21-9

Order of finish: 2 4 1 5 3

Up Next The Bears will now head south for the weekend for their road openers in the Battle For L.A. at Mapes Beach. Cal takes on UCLA and Cal Poly on Friday, March 1. The following day, the Bears face Concordia University Irvine and Loyola Marymount.

[kalevalakryze]

Under Fire

For Bo-Katan Week Day Two: Prompt Wedding/Marriage Pairing: Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Din Djarin, Axe Woves, Koska Reeves, Ragnar Vizsla , Din Grogu Warnings: canon typical violence, author trying to be funny, and probably failing. Summary: Blaster fire rained heavy on the ground around the small squad of Mandalorians, dirt, sand, and other debris tossed into the air with each shot around their stomping boots. A gloved hand shot out to grab Bo-Katan by the leather strap of her holster, tugging her under cover just in time for a burning red bolt of plasma to whizz through the air where she’d been only moments before. Bo dug her boots into the ground to change momentum, settling her elbows into the durasteel that The Armorer had pulled her behind. Yellow bolts fired from her Westar’s found homes in stormtrooper plastoid. The next one to pull her from an inevitable headshot had been Koska, who’d caught the E-11’s glint as the shot charged. “Hey!” Bo called to her golden helmeted companion as she reached for the blaster of a fallen stormtrooper. The sturm dowels were removed from their power packs, before she was launching them into the offensive firing line. Explosions reflected in The Armorer’s visor as she turned her attention to the Mandalore. “You remember what we talked about, a few weeks ago?” A blaster whizzed past, she felt it graze the side of her helmet and sear the paint. Shaking her head, Bo fired back. “I’m ready, I want to say the vows, with you, if you’ll have me!” 

AO3 Link: here

“There’s an Imperial base that’s in operation in the remains of Concordia,” Axe informed the leaders as he and his apprentice, Ragnar Vizsla, entered the war room. Koska followed behind the pair, helmet tucked under her arm, her brows pulled in a contemplative expression.

“Scans have proved the existence of the Beskar alloy they’d been using to make the super commando armor, and heat signatures prove that the old factories are back in working order,” Koska added in as she set her helmet on the war room console.

The Mand’alor frowned as she pulled the star map up. They’d only recently managed to get the proper equipment in the atmosphere to keep an eye on the healing Mandalore sector, the storms slowing down after they’d bartered trade with the New Republic to fix the environment. They were even on track to restarting the old Mando-Motors buildings, and started to get details in the books to renew ship manufacturing, so having Imperials on Concordia when they could be using the planets resources for materials instead of bartering, just wouldn’t work for her.

“Ragnar, what do you think we should do?” She questioned the young apprentice, lips quirking as he tensed from the spotlight. He was meant to be learning strategy by now anyways, and his inexperience could prove useful in dealing with the troopers.

“Well, Lady Kryze, we could take a small squad for a scouting operation, and decide from there how to continue depending on what we see? Our scanners could still be faulty with the storms,” His hand traced the chin of his helmet in thought, though Bo-Katan was nodding her head.

“That’s a good plan, Ragnar. Does anyone oppose?” Bo-Katan looked around the room, nodding her head at the shakes of everyones head. “Perfect, Din, Grogu, could you two run interference and surveillance from the Gauntlet while we hit the ground?” She turned to the Clan of Two, where Din was pointing out different locations on the map.

“It will be done, Lady Kryze,” He affirmed, his hand resting on Grogu’s head, where a miniature helmet covered the brunt of his head, though there was no visor, and his ears were also uncovered, the beskar would protect from anything fall, something she was glad to see the Jetti apprentice wearing.

“Alright, if you’re in this room, congratulations, you’ve all been drafted for recon, load up,” She patted her hand on the table, a smile pulling at her lips at Axe’s laugh as the man threw his arm around his apprentice and led him to the newly reconstructed hangars. Bo-Katan and The Armorer were the last to file out of the war room, mostly so the Mand’alor could press a soft kiss to the hard gold metal of the woman’s helm.

Letting Din and Grogu pilot, Bo-Katan, The Armorer, Axe, and Ragnar loaded into the drop transport, while Koska stuck in the cockpit to run the scans. The ship rocked and rumbled as they breached the storms in the atmosphere, when they broke the edge, The Armorer’s hand reached to settle on Bo’s waist, under the impression of helping her stay steady, since the Mand’alor refused to strap into one of the seats.

“We’re breaching atmo, there’s activity on the surface,” Din called over comms, the ship rattling as he pulled it harshly to avoid hostile scanners. “I’ll drop you as close as I can, and then we’ll sit until you call,” The floor of the gauntlet started to shift, until Bo was leading the drop, the others unstrapping and freefalling after her.

They couldn’t activate their thrusters until they were closer to the ground, which meant it would be close, especially since Ragnar didn’t have nearly the same amount of skill as the others. The comms were silent as the air rushed around her, her head turning just enough to catch the gold and blue of her squad. In the last few feet they had to spare, five sets of thrusters engaged in tandem. When her feet touched the dirt, her rangefinder dropped to scan their immediate surroundings, watching for some indication that they’ve been seen.

“It has been some time since I have been here,” The Armorer spoke with a hint of nostalgia, though Bo and her Niteowls all nodded their head in agreement. They’d all been a part of Death Watch, had hidden themselves from New Mandalorian rule under Pre Vizsla’s order, and had terrorized their people under his command, until they’d had no choice but to flee.

“It has been some time,” Bo agreed her head as she started towards the closest facility, where she last knew the most secure facility to have been. “The manufacturing centers were all forced to shut down, or to transition into making ship pieces for Mando-motors, though while Concordia was under the rule of Pre Vizsla, Death Watch managed to restart the production of Beskar alloys, and make produce enough armor to renew each set that had been given up by families who’d bent to the New Mandalorian’s pacifistic ways,” The redhead explained quietly as they walked, keeping her head on a swivel as they moved.

Koska nodded her head with her gauntlet held in front of her face. “Though, the mass production was nothing compared to what the old armorer’s were doing, before the new laws.” The Armorer listened to them speak as she marched on beside Ragnar and Axe. She hadn’t seen life inside Death Watch, as her clan had derived from those who managed to break away, she’d only been subjected to the consequences of their actions, and then the consequences of The Niteowls actions in turn.

“We’ve got movement ahead,” Ragnar called, pointing towards an observation balcony built into the side of the facility. The trooper was turned around, so the team had enough time to move in and press themselves close to the exterior walls. “We can’t drop him, yet, I don’t want them knowing we’re here until it’s too late,” She signed using dadita to keep their cover.  

Nods of affirmation came from the four others in the squad. They waited in anticipation for several minutes, until the sounds of a door sliding open and the retreating of footsteps met their ears. Bo-Katan shot a line from her gauntlet that wrapped around the railing, pulling herself up quietly the balcony. No cameras met her eye when she landed, so she gestured to the others to follow.

The moment they got the doors open, Koska and Axe pushed forward to breach the interior, leaving Bo to cover the rear as they picked their way through old halls. The two Niteowls in lead had more experience than Bo-Katan in any of the production facilities, since her spot as Pre’s lieutenant had kept her away from the ‘grunt work’ of the job.

The resistance in the base was minimal, so Axe brought Ragnar to the front of the squad so he could work on his silent takedowns. The team managed to get all the way to the control rooms and place the charges before they’d ran into their first major issue. The guard rotations had been completed, and a janitor had stumbled upon a plastoid armored corpse in a closet.

Klaxons blared as an Imperial called orders over the ringing. Soon enough, the halls were filled with the sounds of shouting and blaster fire as the squad of Mandalorians made their way back to the exit. “Din, we’re going to need a fast pickup!” Bo called into the comms, only getting static in response. “We’re jammed, push outside and we’ll try again,”

A thermal detonator was chucked into the fray, though Bo couldn’t tell who’d thrown it. Before she could react, a bezoar hammer was smashing into the side of the explosive, sending it barreling into the squad of troopers keeping them from the exit.

Leaping past the prone bodies of stormtroopers, Bo-Katan was the first into the dim sunlight, her shield ejecting and raising in perfect timing to deflect a blaster bolt that would have destroyed her visor.

Clearing a path, The Mand’alor managed to secure room for the entire squad to take cover behind as more troopers rallied both in front and behind them. “Axe! Ragnar! Koska! Keep our shebs clear!” Bo commanded as she started firing into the troopers in front. The Armorer pressed ahead to the riot line with her hammer and tongs, leaving Bo-Katan to pick off anyone who tried to snag her while she was occupied in melee combat.

The thrusters of a jetpack sounded as another rifle joined their cause. “Where’s Grogu?” She called as Din landed beside her, his whistling birds striking home in three trooper’s chests.

“Piloting!” The mandalorian returned, his rifle mounted on the Imperial barricade wall by the entrance, yellow plasma ejecting from his rifle to take down the growing numbers.

It was truly only mildly concerning that Grogu was piloting, but she trusted Din enough to not leave any of them in bad hands.

“Heavy turret!” Bo called, her gauntlet’s cable shooting out to wind around The Armorer’s waist and drag her back before the blaster fire could open on her position. “Cover me!”

Without waiting for a reply, Bo-Katan’s thrusters engaged to send her into the air. In one fluid motion, the Mand’alor was dropping from the sky, allowing gravity to control her speed and the troopers body to cushion her fall. The trooper on the turret caved under the weight of her boots, with the feeling of bones cracking as she pushed herself off of him a relief in her mind that he would not be getting up.

Her shield engaged, while she pressed into melee combat to free up enough room around the turret. When she made the room, Bo-Katan smacked an ion grenade against the barrel, before springing back off in the direction of relative safety.

Blaster fire rained heavy on the ground around the small squad of Mandalorians, dirt, sand, and other debris tossed into the air with each shot around their stomping boots. A gloved hand shot out to grab Bo-Katan by the leather strap of her holster, tugging her under cover just in time for a burning red bolt of plasma to whizz through the air where she’d been only moments before. Bo dug her boots into the ground to change momentum, settling her elbows into the durasteel that The Armorer had pulled her behind.

Yellow bolts fired from her Westar’s found homes in stormtrooper plastoid. The next one to pull her from an inevitable headshot had been Koska, who’d caught the E-11’s glint as the shot charged.

“Hey!” Bo called to her golden helmeted companion as she reached for the blaster of a fallen stormtrooper. The sturm dowels were removed from their power packs, before she was launching them into the offensive firing line. Explosions reflected in The Armorer’s visor as she turned her attention to the Mandalore. “You remember what we talked about, a few weeks ago?”

A blaster whizzed past which she felt graze the side of her helmet and sear the paint. Shaking her head, Bo fired back into the enemy line. “I’m ready, I want to say the vows, with you, if you’ll have me!”

Din’s head snapped to the two warriors, though he remained silent as he covered where The Armorer’s defense faltered. “Would everyone bear witness?” She questioned to the closing squad.

“This is the way,” Echoed from the two children of the watch, while Koska and Axe took three seconds to slide credits into waiting gloves, before they called their approvals over the blaster fire.

“Keep us covered!” Bo-Katan tugged The Armorer so their heads were covered by the barricades. It was far from rare for Mandalorians to say the vows on the battlefield, all they truly needed to do was recite the vows with a witness present, and then trade a piece of armor (or, on the off chance one of them did not make it, the armor would be given before the last rites and the songs were sung before the pyre.

Bo took The Armorer’s hands in her own, lasers like fireworks overhead as the two took cover between their friends. ”Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde” They spoke together, The Armorer shifting so her helmet rested against Bo-Katan’s in a keldabe kiss. Truly, it was what the redhead had always imagined the situation would be like for her, though she had never really considered there would ever be somebody on the other end.

“Ibic haar Yust.” Sounded from those who bore witness, and the Mand’alor gave herself a moment to breathe, before she and The Armorer were rising as one.

The pair moved past their defenses in tandem, Bo-Katan nearly pressed against The Armorer’s back, firing over her shoulder as her newly appointed Riduur bashed her tools into troopers, cracking plastoid, flesh, and bone as they went.

The gauntlet soared overhead, turrets raining blaster fire down to help clear the path, as the rest of the squad filed in close order, covering their leaders backs as they found their opening.

Grogu was an exceptional pilot, they learned. When they piled onto the gauntlet, the apprentice was at the controls, using the Force to man the turrets and his hands wrapped around the throttle, standing on the console to be able to reach. Din slid into the seat to get them in the air, as Axe and Koska jumped onto the turret controls, allowing the Jetti turned Mando to fall into his fathers arms, clearly spent from using his abilities.

Bo-Katan pulled her helmet off the moment the ramp was raised and they were shooting back into atmo. “Ragnar, blow it,” Came the order, which the teenager was more than happy to comply with. The explosions from the factories control rooms shook even their ship as they started to breach from the moon’s gravitational pull.

“We can send squads to ensure there are no survivors, and set up our own base of operations in whatever remains, to search out any other factories they may have gotten running,” The Armorer decided, looking to Bo for approval.

“I’ll put out a call to volunteers as soon as we land, Axe, Ragnar, would you two take lead on the operation?”

“Of course, Lady Kryze,” Axe nodded his head as he turned from the console. There were no TIE fighters swarming their position yet, promising that if the hit wasn’t a total wipe, it was still substantial enough to put them on their ass.

“So,” Koska started as she pulled her own helmet away, leaning back in her seat as she looked between Bo and The Armorer. “Bo, you owe me fifty creds for not waiting until next month,”

Axe laughed openly from his seat where he was cleaning his blaster, and Bo snorted. “Seriously? You two made bets?”

“Speaking of,” Din turned in the pilots seat once the autopilot engaged, causing Koska to groan and pass over more credits.

“Really, Din?” Bo shook her head in mock disappointment, though her expression changed to shock as Din handed the credits to Grogu. “My favorite green nephew, seriously?”

“Patu,” Grogu babbled with a crooked smile, his ears laying flat as he stuffed the credits in his pouch.

Shaking her head, Bo-Katan dropped herself into an open seat beside The Armorer, letting herself lean into the warmth of the woman behind her, instead of against the backrest. “I see how it is,”

“Do we still get to come to the wedding?” Koska asked, causing Bo to roll her eyes as the younger niteowl plastered a shit-eating grin onto her face

“You were literally just there,”

“You two still need to exchange armor,” Axe pointed out, kicking his feet up on the console, “Then it’ll be official, then she really will be walking the way of the Mand’alor,”

“Why are you two like this?” Bo questioned, though she knew she would receive no response. Instead, she turned towards The Armorer. “Have you thought about what piece you’d like to exchange?” Typically, a gauntlet or a pauldron would be traded off, though Bo-Katan’s full armor varied greatly from The Armorer’s helmet and chest plate.

The golden helmeted warrior paused in thought, before reaching to her own armor. “I give you my heart, Lady Kryze,” She spoke softly as she pulled the kar’ta from her armor. Even with the Riduurok taken, the woman still waited for Bo-Katan’s permission before removing the Mand’alor’s own Iron Heart.

Bo-Katan’s hand closed around The Armorer’s once both their hearts rested in her palms. “I readily give my own,” She confirmed, squeezing the hands in her own. The Armorer slid the red heart into the open space in her chest, as Bo-Katan did the same with her own against The Armorer’s chest. They weren’t perfect fits, but Bo-Katan had the perk of being with the tribes best blacksmith to perfect the fit.

Translations Jetti - Jedi dadita - Mandalorian morse code shebs - ass/rear Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors. Ibic haar yust - this is the way Riduur - spouse kar'ta - iron heart Riduurok - vows

[two-thrones]

ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜɴ

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

(CANON MUSES) - I'll only speak on my PoP muses here since this account was tagged. And honestly, from the moment I first played Sands of Time, I knew it would be a permanent and prominent fixture. I can't tell you why it resonated with me the way it did, but here we are: some 20 years, one PoP-themed tattoo, and a soon-to-be 4-year-old fan blog later. Zeke is such a solid balance of traits (both good and bad), Xenres is ridiculously fun to write for, and Malik's more lawful good nature intrigues me. (OCs) - In the early days (and only with one particular friend), I used to write for a lot more than I do now. I have a couple who've stuck with me over the years, and I'll occasionally use them for games with character creators, but I don't have blogs for any of them, even outside of the hub account. However, I have mad respect for OCs and adore getting to write opposite them.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Frankly, there aren't many things I don't permit in fiction. Fiction ≠ condoning something IRL. That being said, though, I do have a negative interest in non-con and everything in that general neighborhood— PWP, sex pollen, omegaverse, and so on. Sex is fine, and fluff is okay, but I'd prefer it not to dominate the story.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

Regarding genres, I enjoy grittier, darker stories the most, with a little room for levity on the side but a more serious tone overall. Fantasy elements, earlier periods, and post-apocalyptic settings in this vein are also great. In more vague terms, I love developing character dynamics and working on involved, plotted threads.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

When it isn't pure divine intervention, it's often music and only sometimes media. I'm sure there's nothing revolutionary about this.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

I haven't been able to listen to music and write for years. The closest I come these days is if I can't escape outside commotion, I'll throw in some earbuds and crank up the brown noise.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

Due to time restraints, I plan whether I want to or not. If I can manage, I'll sit down and reply right after I read something, but I usually end up thinking about it at work during the week.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

Most certainly, but it has to happen naturally, and a slow burn is a must. Otherwise, I'm open to more one-sided relationships (on either end) if that's how things develop. Trying to force anything in writing is a big turn-off for me.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Giffie.

ᴀɢᴇ?

21+

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

January 16th.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Green, black, gray, white.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

Most (but not all) things by either Rob Zombie or Powerman 5000. I don't care if that's a cop-out; I can't pick just one.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Either Spaceman (2024) or The Suicide Squad (2021), I can't remember which now.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Bigtop Burger (first & second season) by Worthikids on YouTube. Do recommend.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Ainsi Bas La Vida by Indila (slowed + reverb)

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Sushi, hands down. Generally, most things seafood. A close second (and considerably easier to obtain) might have to be a nice grilled cheese sandwich.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

It used to be winter, and then I moved to a place where it's winter 8 months out of 12, so now it's autumn. Unfortunately, autumn doesn't really exist here, but it's always with me in spirit.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

Not to be a golden retriever on main, but I sincerely treasure each and every one of you here who takes the time to write and/or chat with me despite how painfully slow I can be. Like it or not, if we're mutuals, I consider us friends and care for you dearly. :)

Tagged by: @origami-assassin (thank you)! Tagging: anybody who wants to do it, I'd certainly be interested in reading.