#mind of maverick ✧ ooc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

newwritergirl · 7 months ago

Text

Starting over | Part 13

Masterlist

Summary: After another date with Jake and Bradley, y/n's upcomming migraine will not stay the only problem. The Admiral und Maverick have bad news for the aviators.

Trigger Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, past abusive relationship, toxic male, migraine, throwing up, au and ooc, poly relationship

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer but I didn't want to split it. Please let me know what you think.

Word Count: 5.4+ k

"Wow, Hangman. I must admit you look really good in a suit." Rooster steps into the kitchen where the blonde pilot stands at the kitchen island waiting for their partners to get ready. He strokes softly over Jake's back, getting a smirk from the other man as a reply.

"Where's y/n? We need to go in the next five minutes." Jake asks impatiently but taking the chance to take a look at Bradley who wears a crisp white button down, the first two buttons open which gives a sneak of his muscular chest and a black suit.

"Princess, Jake is a bit impa-" Bradley nearly chokes on his own words when y/n steps out of her bedroom. Her short and tight black dress is hugging her body perfectly. "I'm ready, is this ok?" She turns around to give her boyfriends an all over view of her chosen dress. She's clearly not wearing a bra in the backless garment. Jake turns around when he hears the clicking of heels on the hard wood floor.

"Good Lord, sweet Jesus help me…" The blonde aviator takes a step closer to meet his girlfriend half way, taking one of her smaller hands in his and turning her around to get one more look at her bare back. "…okay? This is not okay, sweetheart. This is fucking amazing. You look so amazing. Beautiful. I guess Bradley also wouldn't mind if we stay here and enjoying the view." He kisses her head.

"Oh no, guys. You promised me another date. So here I am." The young woman says with an excited smile. She looked forward to their date, just the three of them enjoying a slow night out in a fancy restaurant.

"You're right, princess. Let's go, otherwise we gonna be late and we have to be at work tomorrow, so let's enjoy our evening." The brunette aviator tucks y/n in his side, gently caressing her bare back. "But Jake's right, you look absolutely amazing. We have to keep a close eye on you otherwise some rich guy will steal you from us."

---

The restaurant the boys chose to have their date with y/n was amazing. Not too snobbish but fancy enough to spoil their girlfriend rotten. Unfortunately they all have to work tomorrow but with Rooster as the designated driver Jake and y/n share an expensive bottle of wine. But during the five-course menu y/n feels that something is wrong. She knows this strange taste in her mouth, it often is a clear sign for an incoming migraine attack. When she's really lucky it will be the only symptom despite a small headache, but on her bad days it means that a bad migraine will attack in the next hours or at the next day.

"You not so hungry anymore, princess?" Bradley asks as he sees his girlfriend second plate still half full despite the small portions.

Y/n doesn't want to crash their night. Jake had to pull some strings to get a reservation at short notice and all three of them were happy when he announced that he got a table for three for that night. No, she can't tell them her bad feeling about the very prominent metallic taste in her mouth and how the smell of the food is currently too strong for her. She has to stay put and hope that this will not turn out as a bad attack and praying that she will get off lightly this time. In the past she often felt ashamed when she fell ill, either her kidney acting up or her migraine coming back. Being vulnerable and asking for help is something she had to learn when she moved in with the two naval pilots. They were always supporting and caring when she felt sick but still she is a bit afraid that there will come the day when it's going to be too much for the two men, when they're annoyed that she is once more sick or feeling bad from a nasty headache.

"Sure I am, but there are three more courses to come and I'm excited for the dessert. Meringue with ice cream and fruits is my weakness." Y/n tries to reassure her boyfriends. Don't show them weakness, they're going to leave you one day. Who wants to always take care of their whiny girlfriend?

---

Fortunately y/n got through the evening without a grand attack. The metallic taste stayed in her mouth a dull pressure built up in her head but other than that she was spared of feeling worse.

Now laying in bed with Jake and Bradley brings her the much needed rest. With her smaller form in the middle of both pilots she feels safe and loved. Soon her eyes drop shut.

Jake doesn't know what woke him up in the middle of the night. With one tired glance at the clock on the nightstand he knows that it's way too early for his alarm. Another kick lands to his thigh not strong enough to hurt him but enough to wake him up. He turns around and is just fast enough to catch the small fist of his girlfriend before it lands in his face. That must've been the reason for his early awakening. Y/n is trashing and moving in her sleep. Usually she's a very calm sleeper, when she doesn't suffer from a nightmare. But today she's constantly moving and turning in her sleep, the sheets already tangled around her body. Small whimpers leaving her occasionally. It's still dark in the bedroom but Jake's eyes adjust fast so he can clearly see the crease on his girlfriend's face. With a gentle touch he strokes some stray wisps of her hair behind her ear. With his thumb he gently runs over her forehead in a soothing manner. It seems like her dream isn't so bad that he has to wake her up, she's not crying or screaming in her sleep, just mumbling some unintelligible words so he tries to sooth her while she's still asleep. Waking her up from her deep slumber is always startling her and he doesn't want to scare so he tries to calm her down this way. The blonde aviator tucks her into his warm chest after he untangled her limps from the blanket and lays it over both of them to keep her somewhat chilled body warm. In a hushed and soft voice he whispers sweet nothing into her ear when she once more tries to kick her legs and pushes her hand into his chest. "Shhh, you're safe, babygirl. It's just me Jake-y. I got you, baby."

---

“Are you ready to go? Where’s y/n?” Bradley asks as he put his mug away in the dishwasher already in his navy clothes ready to start the day and head to the base.

Jake was the first of the three to wake up and get out of the warm comfort of the bed. There was no use in staying any longer. He had a hard night with y/n trashing and wiggling in his arms. He held her close and soothed her but shortly after he fell asleep she started to whimper and turning again.

“I let her sleep a bit longer. She had a rough night, kept tossing and turning. Even kicked and hit me. Don’t what was wrong with her, but I guess she needed a bit more sleep this morning. We will meet you at the base.”

Bradley looks concerned when his partner tells him about the bad night y/h had. Hopefully it stays the exception. Since the three of them were in a relationship and they often sleep together in a bed y/n hasn’t had a bad night or a night terror.

“Oh okay. I keep your class on their toes until you arrive.” The brunette pilot places a kiss on Hangman’s cheek and hurries out the door, that way at least one of them will be on time.

---

Waking up dizzy and still with the metallic taste in her mouth y/n immediately knows that her day is going to be rough. She feels like she hasn’t slept one bit this night, her limps feeling heavy and a dull ache is forming behind her eyes. But she has to get up now and get ready for work. She has tasks she wants to finish today and to call in sick is definitely not an option. She will drag herself through the day without alerting her boyfriends that something is wrong with her and just go to bed early in the evening. Yes, that’s seems to be the best battle plan but only if the major migraine attack stays away.

---

Jake and Bradley are busy with training their recruits and to prepare them for their flight training later that day. Y/n is thankful for that for once, so she can suffer in her office in silence. When her mobile chirps and alerts her that she has a notification she’s happy to see that it’s a message from Bradley. She unlocks her phone and is greeted with a cute selfie of both her boys standing in all their glory already wearing their flight suits.

Roo-y: Hello Princess. We’re about to start the flight training. Having a tight schedule today <3 We’ll see u in the afternoon. Love u!

Her heart starts to pick up. She really loves these two morons. She types a fast reply in hopes that they will see her message before they start their jets.

Looking all good in your fight suits *.* Please be careful. See u later <3

She wants to desperately write an ‘I love you’ back, but wants her first ‘I love you’ to be told in person. She wants to see their faces, looking in their eyes. And she needs a bit more courage to do so.

---

It always starts this way, with a blind spot in the middle of her field of vision which will spread soon to the edges until it will morph into tiny little flashes. The dull ache behind her eyes is now slowly developing into full migraine attack. The letters and numbers on the sheet in front of her are growing hazy and the midday sun which filters through her office windows feels like a knife stabs in her sensitive eyes. This is going to be bad with no way out for the young woman. She knows the drill. Soon she will be dizzy and nauseous with a skull piercing headache which makes her incapable of acting. Her hands start to shake, what is she going to do? Both Bradley and Jake are in the air now, probably will be there for some more time. She has to try to sustain for some hours until they’re ready to drive her home. With trembling hands she rummages through the drawer of her wooden desk, desperately searching for some painkillers to take away the edge of the splitting headache. The items in the drawer are all blurred and it’s hard for the young woman to think straight. Dizzy and with weak legs she stands up from her desk, she needs to get to the bathroom. Cold water on her wrists should help with her dizziness a tiny bit. She nearly collapses before she can even get to her closed office door. A loud knock is bringing her out of her confused thoughts.

“Ms. y/ln. I just got that… Ms. y/ln, are you okay?” The Admiral immediately sees that something is wrong with the younger woman. She’s standing on shaky legs white as ghost in front of him using the desk as support. He instantly grabs her by her shoulders and leads her back into her chair.

“Do you need a doctor, Miss?” He crouches down in front the smaller woman and one more time lays a hand on one of her shoulders to get her attention, growing worried when she looks at him with unfocused eyes.

“Admiral, Sir…” She tries to stand up, she has highly respect of the man in front of her. Not only because he is her superior. When she started as the new and first IT-specialist at the base he was, despite all the warnings from the Daggers, always friendly and supportive with her. He never gave her the impression she’s not part of the team. As a civilian she had no idea how everything works, let alone how to act around the Admiral or other highly ranked Navy members. But it seems like he has a spot for her, so he was very loose with her from the start.

“Please stay seated, Miss. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Bad migraine, I’m sorry, Sir.” Her words already a bit slurred.

With an understanding nod he pats her shoulder. “Okay. How do we do it then? Rooster and Hangman are still in the air. But I don’t want you to wait here in your condition. Let me get someone to bring you home. I would feel better if I know you can lay down at home and take some painkillers. Is that okay, Miss y/ln?” With both her boyfriends still in the air the Admiral has only one option, he needs to asks Welsh to take the sick woman home. The guy is as useless as they come. And he can’t wait to kick him of his base already. But to take his IT-specialist home seems like a simple enough task for this scapegrace.

---

That's why she finds herself now in a Navy issued SUV on the way to their shared house. Despite the spacious driver's cab she feels cramped. The tangy smell of the man's aftershave increases the feeling nausea. Her field of vision is still dominated by colorful flashes and a blind spot on the right side. That and the hammering pain in her head which throbs with every heartbeat makes it difficult for her to concentrate on the streets. With Welsh so close to her she feels vulnerable. From the beginning the guy gave her the creeps. At his first days on the base he tried to flirt with her but not in a funny or friendly way like Jake or Bradley did. His behavior, his choice of words, his dark eyes which always seem to follow her made her scared from the start. She prays that the drive to Jake's and Bradley's house is as fast as possible over and she can stumble into their cozy home and hide herself in one of the boy's beds.

"So…how is it to live with two Naval pilots in a house? If they're as bossy as they're on base, I should probably feel sorry for you." Welsh's loud voice brings her out of her daydream. His devilish laugh at the end of his sentence makes her flinch. Why is he starting a conversation with her? She heard the Admiral told him that she has a bad migraine attack. Her heartrate picks up which only increases the painful throbbing behind her eyes.

"It's good. They're good roommates." She answers in a quiet voice in great hope that this would end the unpleasant conversation. Y/n feels the man's eyes on her after he stops at a red light.

"Hmm, good roommates… But what if, let's say you want to bring a guy home?" His voice gets a dangerous undertone and y/n feels more and more unsafe in the presence of the man beside her.

"I - I don't bring men home…" But before she can finish her sentence she feels a finger tracing down her arm, the short fingernail scraping her sensitive skin. Y/n flinches and withdraws her arm as fast as she can. A shudder is passing through her body. She can feel the bile rising in her throat.

"A beautiful woman like you doesn't bring guys home? Playing hard to get, darling?"

Y/n feels relegated right back into her past. Feeling small helpless at the hand of a sadistic man. She curls further into the seat turning her body to be closer to the passenger door, away from Welsh. The line he traced with his finger is burning on her skin. She is disgusted. Her heart is racing but she holds back the tears with all her might. She doesn't want to show more weakness by crying in the car in front of him. Fortunately he ends the forced conversation at this point, looking confident with the outcome of the intimidation of the small woman in the passenger seat. First rule: show them who is in charge, intimidate them. Then go further.

When Welsh turns into the all too familiar road and finally parks the car in the driveway of their home she hastily fumbles with her seatbelt. She can't stay one second longer in the presence of this man.

"Wow, nice house. Really cute, good neighborhood. I guess it's really cozy in there…"

When y/n stumbles out of the car she can hear his voice shouting after her. "I can help you inside, darling."

But she just hurries to the front door without looking back. She has to open the door and then she's safe. Her hands are shaking so badly and her vision problems are making it difficult for her to get the key into the lock. In her panic she doesn't notice that Welsh is already backing out of the driveway.

---

Y/n doesn't know how long she sat there, on the cold hardwood floor with her back to the front door. When she finally unlocked the door her dizziness was so bad that she only managed to close and lock the door and let herself slide down onto the floor. With her throbbing head in her hands she started to cry silently. Panic gasps tumbled out of her mouth, her heart seemed to explode in her ribcage.

On wobbly legs she finally has the strength to make her way into her bathroom to get her migraine medication and a glass of water. Clad in only an old Navy shirt of Bradley or Jake she crawls in Jake's bed, inhaling his lingering scent, eventually feeling safe.

---

The training session was greatly successful, leaving the recruits and their instructors exhausted but content. On days like this Bradley and Jake are happy that they and the Dagger Crew accept the generous offer to be permanent at Miramar, teaching the new fighter pilots of the US Navy.

"Finally finished for today, I'm so ready to go home." Bradley says as he looks at his phone.

"Yeah, let's get our girl and head home." Jake replies in a light tone patting his partner on the shoulder. He can't wait to get home with Rooster and y/n, envelope both in his arms and cuddle for the rest of the evening on their big and comfy couch. Before both reach the locker room to store away their helmets and flight suits a loud voice is interrupting their chatter.

"Hangman, Rooster. The Admiral and I have to talk to you. Nice training by the way." Maverick instructs them clearly aware of the annoyed looks he receives from both men.

---

"At ease! Take a seat" Bradley and Jake do as the Admiral tells them. Both clearly surprised why the Admiral and Maverick have to talk to them at this time of the day after their long flight training.

"First of all, I had to send Ms. y/ln home late in the morning. She was feeling unwell, suffering from a migraine. Welsh was so friendly and took her home."

Both men share a worried look, Jake nearly on the verge to storm out of the Admiral's office. Maverick's firm hand holding him in his seat.

"I don't want to hold you two here any longer. But Mr. Mitchell has important news for you." The Admiral knows y/n's past. Before she could start to work at the base he had to do a detailed background check. But with her high reputation her former employer gave her and Maverick's powers of persuasion he could overlook the fact that she is a civilian and that her ex could be a possible safety risk. When Pete told him her whole story, the reason why she has to move states that fast, his heart went out for her. For outsiders he always looks like the clinical Navy Admiral, but deep down he has a big heart and a great soft spot for his young IT-specialist. So he dearly understands the huge protectiveness his two aviators feel for her.

"I know that your contract clearly says that you two are permanent instructors for TopGun, without any long term…"

"We are not going on another suicide mission." Jake interrupts Pete immediately. In no case he or Bradley are going on another mission, gamble with their life, leaving y/n.

"Seresin, keep calm!" The Admiral barges in. Jake's posture stiffens but indicates Maverick to continue.

"The USS Harry S. Truman needs some instructors on the carrier. Phoenix and Fanboy will accompany you. Bob and Coyote are going to supervise your trainees at the base."

"How long?" Bradley looks as unamused as Jake. Both don't want to leave their girlfriend alone. Of course she is a grown woman and can handle herself but their relationship is still very new and he knows that they would constantly worry about her when they're away. With her health issues she doesn't rely on help, but both would feel better if one of them would stay back home.

"We assume that you will stay there for at least two weeks. But it will depend on how fast you can train the crew. The good news is that the carrier is currently stationed in the pacific near Hawaii and will stay nearby during the training mission." The Admiral rises to speak to the men.

"When do we have to fly out?" Jake asks while clenching his teeth.

---

The drive home was silent, a dreading silence with both men deep in thought. With heavy hearts and worried for their girlfriend who is probably still suffering from her migraine attack. They have to leave Miramar in three days. Thursday they're going to fly out to the USS Harry Truman and they have yet to tell their girlfriend, their currently sick girlfriend. How could that somewhat decent day turns out to be such a disappointment.

---

"The door is locked?!" Bradley states when he tries to open the front door of their house. Usually y/n doesn't lock the front door when she is at home, she did that a lot at the beginning of her living with Rooster and Hangman. But nowadays she feels safe enough to not lock the door when she's inside the house, in addition to that it's not possible to open their front door from the outside without a key.

Both men step into their cozy home as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake up their sick girlfriend in case she's still resting.

The brunette pilot opens y/n's bedroom door slowly and pokes his head inside the room, but her bed is empty and untouched. She has to made herself comfortable in one of their bedrooms, seeking comfort in one of their beds. That's the moment the two men hear painful coughs and retching coming out of the master bathroom.

Jake is the first to open the door to the grand bathroom which is used usually by the two men because y/n has her own en-suite bathroom. And there she is, sitting miserable on the cold tiles in front the toilet violently gagging with her whole body shaking like a leave.

"Oh baby…" Jake wastes no time and kneels immediately beside the smaller woman. But to his surprise she flinches away from him when he touches her back in a soothing manner. Her eyes fly open and there's a clear look of panic in her big eyes. She needs a moment to recognize one of her boyfriends beside her when another violent wave of nausea hits her like a train.

"It's okay y/n. I got you, don't fight it." Jake reassures her while supporting her body when she starts to throw up once again. She reaches blindly for Jake, squeezing his thigh weakly with a clammy hand. Bradley sits on her other side running a cool washcloth over her neck, catching a tear that makes its way down her pale cheeks. When there's finally nothing more in her system to throw up and also the dry heaves stop she slumps her body into Jake's.

"You done, sweetheart?" he asks in a worried tone while supporting her body to keep her in a sitting position. When he looks at her face he sees how pale she is almost ashen with cold sweat coating her forehead.

"Migraine." The small woman whispers even her own voice is hurting in her head. "M-medication." Her voice slightly slurred.

"You due for another round of your painkillers? I will get them and something for the nausea." Bradley strokes her cheek gently before he stands up to make his way to her bathroom to get the much needed painkillers and something to prevent her from throwing up more.

She curls further into Jake's warm body when he starts to massage her temples. He picks up the cool washcloth to put it back on y/n's neck but the sudden cold feeling surprises the trembling girl and her hand flies to Jake's chest fisting his shirt in an attempt ground herself.

"J-Jake." She gasps looking up at the blonde man holding her in his arms.

"I'm here, sweetcakes. You ready to get up?"

She nods her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. Despite her bad migraine attack Jake's odor doesn't make her sick, it grounds her, remind her that she's safe here, that she's home. On the contrary to the strong aftershave of Welsh. She shudders, she tries to shove the thought of his fingers touching her arm and his strong words in the back of her head.

After brushing her teeth to get the disgusting taste out of her mouth Jake takes her back to his bed. Tucking her in after Bradley gave her the medication to finally give her the release from the hammering headache she already suffers for hours.

"Can you stay with me? Please…" Y/n whispers as both her boyfriends kiss her forehead.

"Of course. We change and then we will lay down with you." Bradley caresses her cheek. He and Jake have to talk first, but he keeps that from her. They both know they have to talk to her as fast as possible but not when she is suffering from a bad migraine attack and is barely coherent. A small 'thank you' can be heard as the aviators leave the bedroom. She is the best that ever happened to them, that fact is clear.

---

"Hey, come here." Bradley opens his arms, he knows that Jake always suffers when y/n is sick, nearly as much as she does. But due to the situation that they have to fly out in the next days and leave her here alone he needs a bit more affection. Jake doesn't hesitate and gladly hugs his partner, he needs this comfort now. He would feel a lot better when he knows how long their deployment on the carrier will last, how long they have to leave y/n alone.

"I'm gonna miss her, Rooster. I'm worried to leave her."

Bradley tightens his hold he has on the blonde aviator. He is worried, too. But he doesn't know why and that scares him the most. Y/n is capable to be alone, even sick she can take care of herself, but she shouldn't. She should have them at her side, she suffered long enough alone on the hands of her ex. With Jake and Bradley at her side she should always be safe and never lonely.

"Me too, I will miss her too. We have to tell her as soon as possible. Hopefully she will feel better tomorrow."

---

The mattress dips beside her a big figure is crawling under the sheets she's huddled under. Y/n lets out a small whimper as she feels cold air spreads under the warm blanket.

"Shh, sweetheart. Go back to sleep." Jake speaks in a hushed tone as he tucks his girlfriend into his muscular chest. Her small hands wander immediately over his ribcage further up to his chest and rest directly over his heart. Felling the heartbeat of either one of her boyfriends is always calming her down and lulling her back so sleep. But she misses the other aviator dearly. "Roo-y?" She whispers into the dark room in great hope that her brunette partner is also joining them.

"I'm here, princess." She hears his deep voice behind her, a soft kiss is placed on the shell of her ear. With a content sigh she grabs one of his hands as he lays behind her, his chest pressing into her back. Finally she's in between the two man she calls her boyfriends. Before she's finally asleep again a nearly inaudible 'I love you' is coming out of her mouth. She finally said it, she loves them with all her heart. Her body goes limp, feeling safe and content to sleep off her headache.

---

"Morning." Bradley's voice still sick with sleep brings Jake out of his daydream. Both men didn't sleep that well last night. Thinking and overthinking how to tell their girlfriend that they have to fly out, teaching some morons on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the pacific ocean.

"Morning, babe. Coffee?" The blonde pilot asks as he's enveloped in a loving hug, feeling the other man's broad chest pressing into his back.

"Please, had a fucking shitty night." Bradley grunts as he ends the hug to get two mugs out of the cupboard.

Before the brunette pilot can rummage any further in of the drawers Jake grabs one of his hands.

"You heard her, yesterday before she fell asleep?" Jake asks looking deep into the warm eyes of his partner.

"Yes I did. Made my heart skip a beat. Fuck, I'm so thankful that she stumbles into our life." Even half asleep and not more than a shy and soft whisper both men heard the three most precious words out of y/n's mouth. To say the timing was awful with them going away is an understatement. But it is what it is. They have to tell her and make the best out of the next two days before their departure.

"Yes, but we have to tell her that we will leave her…"

---

Y/n wakes up slightly confused taking the heavy painkillers combined the anti-nausea medication leaves her always slightly confused and dizzy the next day. Fortunately the deadly painful headache is just a dull ache behind her eyes. She takes a look at the alarm on the nightstand and she knows that she has to hurry up she is already late for work. Peeling herself out of the warm and comfy bed leaving the content feeling of being safe and sound in Jake's bed behind she slightly stumbles as she makes her way to the door. She needs a proper shower so she has to go into her own bathroom in case she doesn't want to wash her hair with the guy's all-in-5 shower gel. She grabs the water glass from last night paddles with her bare feet to the door opening it quietly when she immediately hears Jake and Bradley talking.

"You heard her, yesterday before she fell asleep?" She can hear Jake asking.

Her hand flies to her mouth. She didn't dream it. She really said 'I love you' to them. She wanted to tell them at the right moment not when she just throw up her guts, with messy hair and confused from pain and medication.

"Yes, but we have to tell her that we will leave her…"

They will leave her. She said she loves them and they will leave her. Her hands start to tremble. She knew that this moment will come and here it is. She is certain that she has too much baggage, is too clingy and too vulnerable. And now yesterday puking her guts out like a disgusting little girl and then she telling them 'I love you' must have been the last straw. She ruined everything. The trembling in her hands increases and with a loud bang the water glass in her hand dashes to shivers on the floor just beneath her feet.

@djs8891

@darksparklesficrecs

#hangman x reader #rooster x reader #tgm #new writer #top gun fanfic #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun

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lucyswinter · 1 year ago

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Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

#fanfic guidlines

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dxivi · 2 years ago

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okay

So who do I write for you ask? Very good question. I'll throw in some fandoms and put in who I'll write for. (Ill forget to put fandoms in without a doubt so someone remind me of fandoms)

Also I write all three. M!reader, GN!reader and F!reader. (Yes, that includes trans!reader as well)

Fandoms

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Spencer Reid (That's still a bit doubtful but ill give it a try)

2. COD MWII

Simon "Ghost" Riley

John "Soap" MacTavish

John Price

I will only do Gaz and any of the others when in combo with the above.

3. NCIS/NCIS:LA/NCIS: New Orleans

No one probably knows of this fandom but here;

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Ziva David

Anthony Dinozzo

Abby Scuito

Mayyyybee Timothy Mcgee but doubtful

Dwayne Pride

Tammy Gregorio

Christopher LaSalle (i haven't watched ncis new orleans in a hot minute so shit might be very ooc)

Sam Hanna

Kensi Blye

G. Callen

Marty Deeks

4. Hawaii Five 0

Even less know abt this one but;

Steven J. Mcgarrett

Daniel Williams

Kono Kalakaua

Chin Ho Kelly

Catherine Rollins (if you dare ask me to paint her in a good light go screw yourself, she fucked up Steve so long. I will not alter her so shes suddenly amazing and heroic.)

5. Bones

Dr. Temperance Brennan aka Bones

Seeley Booth

James Aubrey

6. Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw (his death + fanfics with mav absolutely ended me- I still didnt finish the most hurtful one and its been over a year now)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Possibly: Phoenix

7. The Mentalist

Patrick Jane

8. Sherlock (bbc & movies)

Sherlock Holmes

James Moriarty

John Watson

9. Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester (as a side character)

Crowley

10. The Slasher Fandom

Michael Myers

Jason Voorhees

Bubba Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Freddy Krueger

Stu Matcher

Vincent Sinclair

(Probably more but I don't remember of the top of my head)

11. Marvel Universe

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Natasha Romanoff

Peter Parker (no smut, kids a fucking minor)

T'Challa (as a loving father type figure but it might be very ooc)

Clint Barton

Honerable mentions for movies/shows/books I don't have enough braincells for to put in but will possibly write for:

The Da Vinci Code

Angels and Demons

Inferno

Dante's Peak

CSI: Miami

CSI: Las Vegas

CSI: NY

Fbi: International

Fbi

THE FUGITIVE (1993)

Law & Order: SVU

Bull (like the show, Dr. Bull)

Jason Bourne

House M.D.

The fallen triology (Olympus has fallen, London has fallen, Angel has fallen)

The Matrix

Rush Hour (i love them <3)

Michael Vey (book)

PJO fandom

HOO fandom

Without a trace

Castle

Elementary

Hannibal (really depends, i only know fanfic of them)

Winx Club (not fate you heathen)

And uhhh- thats it i think? This probably isnt everything because im in so many fandoms of which I didnt watch/see anything besides the fandom itself but yeah- (many of which are on this list, why'd you think dr who isnt here)

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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At last, the secret lab. Allegedly.

Honestly, yeah. Yes, please. Give me one of your masks. If the goal is to sell the illusion that I'm your private secretary, that's all we need. Someone sees me walking around in a Makoto mask, they will assume "Weird Makoto Thing" and pay me no further mind.

That's brilliant. Do that.

At the very least, a change of clothes would be good. I didn't think about this before we got here but Yuma's still wearing the Standard Master Detective Uniform. It's easy to forget 'cause all the Master Detectives are mavericks who screw the rules and dress how they please. But to anyone who knows the WDO, these clothes are a neon sign that reads "MASTER DETECTIVE".

This is like going undercover in a Galactic Empire base, but wearing your white/orange Rebel Alliance Pilot jumper while you do it.

Ooo, maybe there's a murder to solve.

Which. I. Should not. Solve. While I am undercover as a not-murder-solver...

...

But... mystery....

Maybe it's Halara. Maybe this is the same Restricted Area somehow, and now they're halfway through trashing the entire Peacekeeper army to find evidence of malfeasance.

They'd need to get past the biometric scanner to get here, but it's Halara. Remember that time they successfully drew a floor map of a place they'd never visited before? Halara could glare sternly at the biometric scanner, and the scanner would blink and give them a green light.

Yeah, I was thinking that too, Shinigami. The both of us being here at the same time may not be directly related but it's unlikely to be entirely coincidental.

It's okay. We go in, we see what's up, maybe high-five the intruder if they are who I think they are. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine. We are doomed. This is the worst possible scenario that could ever have occurred. Yuma, why didn't you take the mask when it was offered!?

Going straight into business mode and pretending I'm not even here. Completely ignoring the elephant in the room. That's certainly a choice, Makoto, but I'm not sure if Yomi will go for it.

Makoto strongly implying that Yomi's presence here is suspicious. Would Yomi descend from his ivory tower to catch some burglar?

...

I mean. He sure does descend from his ivory tower to chase after us a whole lot, so this doesn't seem that OOC for him. Though that could be my bias talking, as he's taken a personal interest in our organization specifically.

So maybe it is OOC for Yomi to care about a break-in, but not if it's a WDO-related break-in. Which. If it's Halara. Then.

He's weaseling so hard to get me into that crime scene and I have no idea where he's going with this. I can feel the play being made but cannot for the life of me fathom what maneuvers it will involve.

If you have to tell people that you're charismatic then that's a tacit admission that you're not very charismatic. It's one of those things that can't be self-diagnosed.

Power and numbers, I'll grant you. He's got four armed men with guns while Makoto's got one out-of-place Junior Detective struggling not to pee himself.

Ooo, appealing to Yomi's ego. Yomi is the Scar to Makoto's Mufasa. Putting pride on the line and offering him a chance to prove he's better than Makoto is a genius play.

Yomi has no practical reason to accept Makoto's offer. But Yomi is not a practical man. He's jealous, spiteful, and desperate for validation. How could he possibly resist a dick-measuring contest against the central focus of his ire?

Weird name for a guy who only KO'd a couple guards. I would have expected a Slaughter Artist to. Y'know. Slaughter.

Also, fantastic job subtle-interrogating Yomi there, Makoto. An effective technique for extracting information is to avoid asking questions and instead make false statements. People love to correct people. It's reflexive. If you assert something that's wrong, you're more likely to get a right answer in response than if you merely asked about it in the first place.

Ask someone, "What's John's role?" and he'll tell you to eat shit. But tell him, "We nabbed your boss John," and he might go, "Fuck you, John's a glorified delivery guy. He just moves supplies. You dumbasses think I answer to JOHN?"

Makoto isn't doing that, but what he is doing is that-adjacent. He's playing civil and offering Yomi opportunities to bark information at him. Playing on their rivalry to make Yomi uncooperatively forthcoming with information about the situation taking place.

He's a corporate arms manufacturer so I'm not surprised he's made some deadly enemies. So now we have another serial murderer targeting corporate assholes for retaliation.

Clearly, Fink the Slaughter Artist must be Halara. :P

Okay but why tho. Why send a letter to the cops going, "Hey cops, I'm going to be coming to kill one of your cop scientists soon so you better CLOSE RANKS!"

The existence of this letter is extremely suspicious. A hitman who calls the police to report on himself does not sound like a very good hitman to me.

Just like that, Yomi's snared in the psychological trap Makoto laid for him. He's so eagerly chomping at the bit to prove how much smarter he is than Makoto that he completely forgot he was going to have Yuma dragged away and waterboarded.

This is what a master class in manipulation looks like.

...oh, yeah, I guess he landed that too. Master class in manipulation. This is unsettling, in fact. Makoto, did you hire Fink to break in for the express purpose of providing us with this smokescreen?

...

Hold on. Breaking into a secret government lab. Conspiracies wheeling within conspiracies. Searching for secrets related to homunculi. Out-of-control serial killer running amok. Something about this scenario seems familiar.

...

No, I can't place it. Must have been my imagination. Anyways, let's go see if we can hunt down Barry the Chopper before Yomi does.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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saintmades · 1 year ago

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#saintmades. 21+, est, she/her. currently semi-selectively looking for long-term writing partners for discord only. more info beneath the cut! ༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

basic info, ──

⁽ ¹ ⁾ i'm a fairly active partner, especially ooc. i like being friends with the people i write with as i'm quite a chatty person and i get rather enthusiastic about ships / dynamics so i could go on and on for hours about whatever we plot. i gravitate towards people who are similar, enthusiastic about plotting and chatty. i like to do things like make pinterest boards, playlists, share headcanons, etc. so if you're similar, we'll get along great! ⁽ ² ⁾ when it comes to plotting, i really love in-depth plotting. if you're the type that replies to everything with whatever you want or up to you, we're probably not going to get along well. i will always put a lot of effort into coming up with ideas and things so i ask that the same sort of effort is given back as well. i want us to both love the dynamic we're plotting! ⁽ ³ ⁾ i write the following: canons, ocs, canonxcanon, ocxcanon and ocxoc. i have preference for ocs and for ocxoc and canonxoc. i also write mxf and fxf, inclusive of trans/nb muses. i have a heavy preference for writing female muses but i am happy to double so long as we both put in the same sort of energy into both plots. ⁽ ⁴ ⁾ in terms of content preferences, i heavily lean towards dark, mature, taboo themes. with that being said, i do also love fluffy sweetness! i'm always happy to have a good mix of both. i also do write smut and i enjoy a good balanced ratio between smut and plot. i'm happy to share kinks / limits and things in private. i don't typically like writing smut without much plot, i always at least a bit of plot. some of the themes / types of plots i enjoy are: age gaps (no minors), forbidden / secret relationships, certain power dynamics, corruption, crime/mafia related, pregnancy plots, small town plots, mumus, celebrities, fake dating, arranged marriage, apocalypse, cheating / affairs. in terms of some of the fandoms i enjoy (this list is definitely not conclusive so we can chat about it!): criminal minds, scream, the last of us, star wars / the mandalorian, marvel / dc, twilight, peaky blinders, kingsman, top gun: maverick, triple frontier, justified, divergent. ⁽ ⁵ ⁾ i am big big big pro-communication. i am absence friendly but not ghost friendly. i will always communicate with my partner about any absences or if i just need to take a break or if i'm losing muse for something. i ask for the same from you. i've had way too many experiences recently of people just disappearing for weeks on end without a single word or just leaving servers without saying anything. all i ask is for some communication. if you're losing muse, let me know! we can refresh / rework our dynamic, try something new, etc, or we can call it a day. sometimes it just doesn't work out and that's okay! if you need to step away and take a break or just need to be absent, that will never bother me at all! i will happily sit back and wait so long as you communicate that with me. i really hope i don't come off as a stickler for this but i've been experiencing this a lot lately and it's so disheartening when i get really engaged and enthusiastic about a dynamic only for it to just either fizzle out because of disappearances or for it to end altogether without a word. this is, of course, not applicable to being away for a few days and not saying anything, etc, i'm more so referring to ghosting for weeks at a time!

end notes, ── if you've sat through that long ramble and you're interested in writing, please feel free to send me an im and we can chat! i'm genuinely a very chill partner and an enthusiastic one as well. i'm very much the type to scream about our dynamic with you all the live long day so if you're similar, we're going to get on like a house on fire! i am currently semi-selectively looking for partners because my experience lately hasn't been the best in terms of communication and ghosting, but i'm always open to chat so send me an im if you're interested! 🤍

#pinned.

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mavcriick · 1 year ago

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INTRODUCING...

☆ –– (tommy martinez, he/him, cis man) who is MAVERICK 'MAV' TORRES anyways ? ew. you don’t know about HIM, we’ll bet you want to. they’re feeling 28 and CREATING WEIRD FOOD COMBINATIONS feels like a perfect night to them. rumor has it they’re HYPER-FOCUSED and ODD because they care, but they’re also OPEN-MINDED and LAID-BACK in the best way. he works to make a little money as a PRO-HOCKEY PLAYER. they’ve rented on a place on cornelia street in the form of A BROWNSTONE. SEVEN ( muse b ) is the song they could dance to the beat of forevermore. (ooc info: ollie, 25, est, they/them, na. ) ©

HIGHLIGHTS

starting goalie with the new york r.angers but it wasn't the straightest path to get there ; laid-back, open-minded individual... if you catch him outside one of his daily routines ; reflexes like a cat ; lives up to the expectation that "goalies are weird" ; probably eating some disgusting sounding food combo in the kitchen right now.

HISTORY

— the youngest of three ( ariana the eldest now 35, michael the middle child now 31 ), maverick had the choice of what kind of youngest child he was going to be. spoiler : he was the well-behaved youngest sibling.

— born in lansing shortly after his parents' move from new mexico where michael was born —and before that, from venezuela— his parents were the type to chase opportunities. they lived in an apartment there for a little while, before moving out to a small town where his mother was able to get a position to utilize her large animal vet skills. his father, a translator, able to work from the comfort of their home and watch the children.

— they were ushered outside quite a bit, to give their father quiet to work, and in the winter this meant pond hockey with the neighborhood kids. and it is here where mav became a goalie, because everyone knows the youngest sibling is the goalie. — high school was fairly uneventful, with the usual ups and downs. by then, mav had long gotten to be a real goalie with midget and pee wee teams, continuing that love on his high school team. many of his teammates familiar faces.

— graduated high school. got drafted in the 5th round to minnesota. played a year in the ushl (muskegon) not too far from home before heading to brown university ( b.s. pyscholinguistics ). backstopped the bears for 4 full years, before heading off to the iowa wild ( minnesota's ahl affiliate ).

—played a rather mediocre season and a half with the iowa wild, before being traded to the new york r.angers as a piece in a much larger trade. mav wasn't the centerpiece of the trade, rather just an add on after not developing as quickly as the wild had hoped, and another goalie prospect quickly outshining him making him redundant. finished the season with the hartford wolfpack (nyr's ahl team )

— was back with the wolfpack come the next season, though his play saw some improvement, much more consistency and steadiness. he received a few call ups during the first half of the season when minor injuries plagued the tandem, finally receiving his first nhl win. but it was in the final stretch of the season that he was called up again to fill in due to a long-term injury to the starter.

— initially he was only supposed to be a back up, through the rest of the season and during playoffs. it was unlikely he would see much ice time once the regular season ended. he played a few good games in those last couple weeks.

— then playoffs came, and in the first round, he was put in after the other goalie was pulled due to letting in 4 goals in the first, and well — the media says that's truly the moment that mav stole the net and never gave it back.

— his coaches would say he had that potential the whole time, that it was only in the pressure of playoffs that all those great pieces and qualities he possessed to be a great goalie finally came together. the avs made a good run at the cup that year, in large due to consistency in net.

— next training camp, mav came to training camp with a renewed purpose, earning a spot on the team and eventually the starter position as well. mav has yet to give up his net, though he feels far from cemented in it. every training camp brings a new challenge. which brings us to present day...

TIMELINE

2023-24 season, age 28: rangers ( present day ) 2022-23 season, age 27 : rangers 2021-22 season, age 26 : rangers 2020-21 season, age 25 : up and down with the wolfpack, called up before playoffs, lead to a deep playoff run and cemented mav's potential 2019-20 season, age 24 : iowa wild, traded mid season to hartford wolfpack 2018-19 season, age 23 : iowa wild 2017-18 season, age 22 : senior @ brown 2016-17 season, age 21 : junior @ brown 2015-16 season, age 20 : sophomore @ brown 2014-15 season, age 19 : freshman @ brown ( providence, ri ) 2013-14 season, age 18 : ushl season ( muskegon ) 2012-13 season, age 17 : graduated from high school, drafted 5th round ( lansing, mi )

PRESENT DAY

— mav lives in new york during the season. he's usually less present in the summers, preferring to spend them in michigan ( #cottageseason ), but he's presently back in new york with the impending start of the 2023-24 season !! he first moved to new york ( and cornelia street, though he originally lived in a diff building, in the summer of 2021 ).

— currently lives in a lovely brownstone with his childhood best friend, myles, and probably has such an arrangement bc of myles. mav almost didn't get a nyc apartment before that first full year with the rangers, almost scared of getting bounced back and forth again, but ultimately decided even if he only spent part of the time in it, it would be worth it to have some home base rather than living out of a hotel room. but he did think that having a roommate would be a good idea : someone to keep an eye on the place while he was gone ( eg. if he got sent down again ). hence, the roommate ad. he never expected his childhood friend from well over a decade ago to reply, but hey, the universe has a funny way of working. that apartment probably was a bit too small for them, and midway through the season myles was already looking for better options. luckily, a beautiful brownstone in the same neighborhood became available. and that's where they live now having moved in the summer of 2022 !!

— frequents plenty of yoga and pilates classes. he thinks they're fun. will randomly show up for various events and things around the city. one of the many reasons he loves ny is that there's never a shortage of things to do.

— thrives on routine. wakes up at the same time every day, does a short yoga session, does some reflex exercises, wakes his eyes up, makes coffee, reads, eats breakfast. the world isn't going to fall apart if he doesn't do his routine, mav still has a rather level-head about things, the only exception is before games. do not interrupt him ( no matter what he claims to be true in interviews ).

— when not busy with hockey day-to-day mav loves to get out into the city. he participates in various volunteer opportunities from animal shelters to clean ups to helping with youth hockey camps. it's never a dull day.

PERSONALITY

— very laid-back generally. he doesn't like to take things too seriously, though he isn't total goof either. rather open-minded in that he'll try just about anything once ( especially food combinations ) before deciding if he likes it or not. bit of a steadying presence, the calm one in the middle of all the chaos. not much seems to phase him. quick to shake off negative commentary.

— that being said, if he's in the middle of the routine he's VERY hard pressed to break it. luckily, not too many people are awake in the morning to bother him, and his night routine is very simple ( and his game day routine is not currently an issue ). everything in the middle of the day though ?? free game.

— mav does have the tendency to get extremely focused on a single thing. he can get dialed into anything, be it a hockey game ( a very good thing ), cooking, reading, pretty much any task. once he puts his mind to something being done... it will be done. once got really into forging mushrooms.

— loves to figure out how things work : anything from physical objects to people to organizations.

— there are times when mav is thinking about something that he'll get very quiet and almost vacant. he's thinking. don't bother him. — somehow gives off the vibes of someone who has their life together and yet... incredibly boyish. — not reckless. thinks things through surprisingly thoroughly. — not always people's cup of tea, not just because of his odd tendencies, but because he also has an uncanny ability to read people. eyes a little too intense and a little too quiet, at times. chalk it up to his college degree, but mav has almost always been that way, reading people from their behavior and between what's said and not. perhaps that's what makes him a good goalie too.

— to quote lexi brown: "i promise you, the weirdest person on the team is in that net (talking to their posts)"

APPEARANCE

— 6'4", muscular, surprisingly solid for a goalie — jaw length hair, either no facial hair or mild scruff, except during playoffs ofc — style : sweaters, button down, fitted t-shirts, anything soft looking, any color any print esp if it's fun. dark washed / gray / charcoal straight cut jeans or pants, sneakers, chelsea boots. runs quite warm and always seems slightly under-dressed for the weather. — quirks : an ability to look incredibly intense at times especially when he's focused on something, plays with a stress ball ( either using it as intended or tosses it up and down ), does crazy eye exercises sometimes out of the blue, if he's deeply focused he needs to be poked first to get his attention

MISC

— extremely good reflexes. mav can catch just about anything thrown at him no matter what. they're something he needs to keep sharp and one of the most important things he needs to ensure he trains during this long period off from hockey. juggles, regular or with the half dozen off a wall. — loves wacky food combinations. snacks on basically anything as long as it's edible. will regularly make combinations bc he was craving a bunch of different things and "it was more efficient to put them together." thus, the opposite of a picky eater. ( a black hole ?? ) — that being said he is a fairly good cook. knows a lot of family recipes: arepas, corn cakes, chicken soup, rice dishes, coconut desserts, milk cakes, etc. loves genuine spicy hot chocolate. — loves yoga and pilates. flexibility is very important. — constantly jokes that he's a goalie and therefore can't skate very well. �� speaks spanish, russian, german, and english — fluent in all, enjoys reading books in their original languages. has somewhat suspect acquisition of korean and mandarin — he's working on it. considers language acquisition one of his hobbies. major was psycholinguistics in college. finds it fascinating how language influences behavior and culture. — definitely a plant dad to many low-maintenance plants — loves a fun block/rooftop party. — "goalies are weird" saying = mav. definitely the type with a very very specific and weird pre-game routine / rituals that simply must be done. always doing some weird shit probably. — has a really good goalie death glare — big proponent of public transit. will take it when given the choice. — does not expect to be recognized most of the time as the rangers' goalie and is always very surprised when he is. similarly, does not always recognize "famous" people. his consumption of media is very skewed and often not focused toward popular media or tabloid type sources. — enjoys sitting on things that were not really made to be sat on : counters, tables, the arms of chairs, the top of his net, etc. — his intro also could have went "assembling ikea furniture feels like a perfect night to them" — can, will, and has slept anywhere — yes his parents are top gun fans hahahah

OOC

hello everyone. it's ollie ( 21+, est, they/them) !! who doesn't love a weird goalie, right ?? please don't hesitate to reach out to me on discord if mav piqued your interest or if you have any ideas !!

#cornelia.intro

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ohkrateia · 3 months ago

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DESDEMONA WALSH !

࣪ ִֶָ☾. A STUDY IN: the lone daughter, caring for a sick parent, the importance of family, & growing up in a small-town.

independent & fandomless original maverick investigator & seeker/believer of the unknown. character heavily inspired by various detective & paranormal shows/media | managed by rach, 25, they/them. mentions of triggering themes.

╰─▸ i. bio | ii. stats | other blogs: @nocityfolk, @facingabyss, @smiledickhead | dash only !

[ psst. rules below the cut !]

hi. i'm rach, they/them, lesbian, 25, australian. mutuals, please feel free to ask for my disco.rd for plotting/ooc chatting! personal tumblr available upon request, too!

SELECTIVITY: i’m selective which means i choose who i want to roleplay with and i won’t follow for follow. tldr; i'm mutuals only. please don’t let this deter you, as long as i can see our muses going somewhere, i’m likely to follow back! / please don't message me, send me asks, etc., if i'm not following you. i will block you.

CODES: if you have a special code in your rules, i likely won’t send it. it can be kind of uncomfortable for me to do so but i can guarantee you that your rules will be read!

MEMES: memes are a great way to break the ice, and help build dynamics. i don't mind if you reblog them off me!

FORMATTING: i sometimes double-space and mostly use icons, but i'll occasionally match the formatting of the person i'm writing with. so if you prefer not to format or use icons, that's fine by me! i just ask that you use proper grammar and punctuation, and trim your posts.

RULES: following on from before, if i ever happen to break a rule, you’re free to pop into my ask & kindly tell me. i’ll make a note not to do it again. tell me gently and be kind, and i’m sure your sincerity will be returned.

IMPORTANT: if you ever need anything tagged, feel free to shoot me an ask, on or off anon, or dm me to let me know. i’ll keep your triggers in mind and make sure i tag them in future!

SHIPPING: des is definitely open to shipping, whether romantic or platonic or one-sided. any kind of dynamic is one i could definitely see working for her (friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, etc)! also, while i'm a lesbian, des is bisexual and open to partners of any kind of gender identity. at this point, i think she'd be happy to be with anyone that respected her and was willing to look past her flaws, so don't let anything deter you. i also love shipping so chances are i'll be up for it!

USFW: this space will likely contain things usfw at some point, so i'll try to tag it as such when i can. side note but please feel free to send romantic/smut memes in if i post them, even if we haven't interacted. they're a great way to try out a dynamic, and i have a lot of fun writing them!

[ please don't follow if you're: homophobic, racist, transphobic, biphobic, anti-palestine, pro-israel, anti-semitic, pro-trump, etc. i'm not interested! same goes for harry potter fans/blogs. i don't have banned fc's, either, but please no known zionists, abusers, etc. ]

#anyway i haven't rp'ed in over five years but hi!! <3

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starikune · 3 months ago

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youtube

Hey look, I'm on time for something for once 😂

#mind of maverick ✧ OOC #there are no endings; only more words ✧ MEMES #Youtube

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ilbound · 2 years ago

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hm. consider this a VERY TENTATIVE starter call to hopefully spark some inspiration for my eventual return ! pretty please specify your taste in muse(s) , thanks.

#❧ ⸺ you’ve gone maverick‚ maverick ! | ooc ❞#❧ ⸺ starter call ( specify muse ) ❞#you may be thinking #mav #aren't you on hiatus #why post a starter call #and to that i say...#mind your business #but also i'm cleaning out threads from the tracker sooo #here we are

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strywoven-moved · 2 years ago

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anyways , i gave myself the gift of a NEW BLOG for my birthday !!

#❧ ━ ❝ ooc || you’ve gone maverick maverick! ❞ ━ ☙#❧ ━ ❝ ooc || update ❞ ━ ☙#i needed a cleanse !! esp since i've changed a lot of stuff these last few weeks #keep in mind nothing is up and the askbox isn't open #not until i get everything in order so #you're walking in on a blank slate pretty much #you can find me over there #same url etc etc

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auroracalisto · 2 years ago

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good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

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callsignthirsty · 2 years ago

Note

Hi please would you write an iceman x reader and hes her first ❤ thank u

He ran away and never came back. You remained a virgin until your death. The end.

Nah. I’m just teasing.

Sorry this took so long for me to get around to. I hope that you like it.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader Word Count: 5000 Warnings: Smut, virgin!reader, maybe slight OOCness Minors DNI

Good Advice

It had been a typical Friday night, spent over drinks with his RIO and his girl. Or, he hoped you were still his girl after this. Actually — were you ever?

You'd grown up around each other, leapfrogging from base to base as military brats do. There'd always been something there, but neither of you had been in the same place long enough to partake in more than flirty words and stolen glances. Truthfully, Ice had been excited to see you again. When the stars and Navy aligned to bring the two of you back together — him a student at Top Gun and you a registered nurse.

Old routines are hard to break.

It felt natural to fall back into those glances, but there was nothing to stop either of you this time. Too-long brushes of fingers became an arm across your shoulders became his arm around your waist became his lips on yours on more than one occasion.

It was nice to be together like that after all the years spent wondering what if.

You were all over each other in the backseat of Ice's car when you hit him with a sighed confession: "I've never done this before." And honestly, the thought had never even crossed Ice's mind, so he chuckled. Genuinely thought that you were joking until he caught the look in your eyes that said you were as serious as the heart attack you nearly gave him. So Ice had done the only logical thing:

Got out of the car without saying a single goddamn thing and walked out of The O Club's parking lot into the setting sun.

* * *

Ice has walked all the way from the O Club to the line of houses that he and the other Top Gun students have been assigned, but it isn't his own door that he's standing in front of.

He knocks before he can chicken out, and he waits.

"Ice?"

"Goose."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ice supposes the question is fair enough. Ice has only stepped foot in Slider's assignment despite multiple invitations to Wolf's, 'wood's, and Goose's. Not that he didn't like Goose — everyone liked Goose — he just preferred to steer clear of his pilot.

The thought of Maverick has Ice hesitating. The last thing he wants is for this to reach the wrong ears, and god knows that Maverick will never let him live this down if he catches wind of it. "Is Mitchell here?"

"No." Goose's brows furrow. "Why? Are you okay, man?"

Ice nods. "Can I come in?"

Goose gets out of the way so Ice can make himself comfortable on the standard issue couch with which all the housing assignments are decorated. Faced with the reality of his situation, Ice suddenly wishes he was anywhere else. But Ice likes you, and he cares about you enough to put himself through a bit of embarrassment to ensure he does right by you. And Bradshaw is married, so it stands that he'd be good at this emotional shit.

This knowledge, however, doesn't make his question any easier to spit out. In fact, every minute he sits on it, it gets exponentially more challenging to put into words. Because Ice is absolutely ashamed to admit that when you told him you were still a virgin and wanted him to be your first, he ran away.

That doesn't mean he likes the shit-eating grin on Goose's face when the words finally come tumbling out of him. God, he hopes he isn't as red as he feels.

"Aww," Goose teases. "The Iceman does have a heart. Just needed a little time to thaw out." And yeah. Maybe this was a bad idea. Ice fidgets in his seat, not entirely sure where to go from there. "Need advice on how to treat her right? That it?"

Ice is contemplating running from the house when a head of blonde hair pops out from around the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. "Oh, Nick! Be nice. Can't you see the poor thing's terrified?"

"It's not every day we see Ice squirm," Goose says with a mischievous smile at his wife. "I was having fun."

"Well, I think it's sweet that he's askin'," she says, joining them in the living room. "Just be gentle, honey. Get her a pillow and go slow. As long as you're putting her first, everything'll be fine."

Ice breaks out of his shock with the realization that he and Goose aren't alone. Mrs. Bradshaw is there as well. "It's family weekend." And he's invited himself into Bradshaw's house. "I'll just go…." He's about to turn and leave as suddenly as he'd asked himself in, but his mother raised him better than that. He turns back to Goose's wife — Carole, if memory serves — and says: "I don't know how to thank you."

"Nonsense." Carole smiles, and dread settles in the pit of Ice's stomach when the same glint he's seen in Mav's and her husband's eyes lights her own. "Our babysitter fell through last minute." Not five minutes later, Bradley is on Ice's hip, and Carole's promising: "We'll be back in a couple hours."

So, Ice spends the night babysitting, which is so far from how he'd thought the night was going to go. It would've been funny if it had happened to anyone else, but it's him. It's nearly midnight when Goose and Carole return, the blonde woman picking Bradley up from where he's fallen asleep on the sofa and carrying him upstairs to bed. Ice shakes Goose's hand before he begins the long walk back to his car.

He drives by your house on the way back to his assignment. Your light is on, so he pulls up to the curb. Instinct tells him to go to you, smooth things over, and tell you that he's been an idiot, but instinct had also gotten him into this mess. No. Knocking on your door now would be adding insult to injury. So he goes home.

* * *

Ice has some nerve to show up at your door the following day, a bouquet of pink and white lilies clutched between his hands. Does he have any idea how embarrassed you were? Splayed shirtless across the backseat of his car as he'd run off like he was an Olympic sprinter and not a fighter pilot. You're about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"I'm sorry."

—he apologizes and shocks you into silence.

"Can I come in?"

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, but you don't think you've ever seen Ice apologize before. Instead of a bitter 'No, Tom. Now get out of my sight and take your stupidly gorgeous flowers with you,' you reach out to take the bouquet. "Let's put these in some water."

By the time you've found a vase and set the flowers on your coffee table, Ice has made himself exceedingly uncomfortable on the edge of your sofa.

"Last night," he starts once you sit opposite him on the other side of the coffee table, his hands clasped to keep from fidgeting, "you caught me by surprise." It's the truth. Ice hadn't imagined what you'd said could've been true. You're sweet and kind and beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you tucked beneath their arm. How you've reached your mid-twenties without sleeping with anyone is beyond him. "I shouldn't have walked away like that," he concedes. "But you- we-." He swallows, eyes locking with yours. "I was worried."

"Oh," you say. Of all the scenarios that ran through your head before and after your confession, a worried Iceman was not one of them.

"I care about you—" his words make your heart swell "—and I was worried that I wouldn't be good for you."

Getting up from your spot, you slide onto the cushion next to him until your knees knock, and you're cradling his face in your hands. "How could you be anything but good for me?" And Ice thinks there are so many reasons and ways, but none of that matters when you bring your lips to his in a gentle press.

"I'd still like to give this a go if you're not going to run away this time," you say, aiming for bold, but your cheeks dust pink.

"Are you sure?" You nod, and that's all the answer Ice needs. "Then I'm not going anywhere." You're smiling when you pull him into the next kiss, but Ice keeps it slow, almost chaste. "We should probably take this to the bedroom."

Ice wants to do this right, so he takes your hand in his and lets you lead him down the hall.

He stopped by the pharmacy on his way to your house and has everything the two of you could possibly need for this to go well. He sets it all on the bedside table before he steps in close, pressing your foreheads together as one of his hands finds the curve of your waist and rubs soothing circles there. He seems more nervous than you, standing with his lips so close to yours but not making a move to close the distance.

"It's just a kiss, Tom," you say with a smile. "We've done this part before."

"I know."

"We've done a lot of this part before." You press a peck to his lips. "Don't overthink it."

So Ice slots your lips together like you're at the O or in the backseat of his car. You both sigh into it, your eyes drifting shut as you let your hands wander and brush clothes aside to reveal soft skin.

Ice's shirt is on the floor when his fingers work on your blouse, his lips leaving tender kisses with each button undone until the fabric slips from your arms. Strong hands cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra, and you want to tear it off with each kiss Ice presses into your cleavage and back up your neck.

Ice's fingers take their time to return to your front when your bra hits the floor, goosebumps littered in their wake. You suck in a breath when he thumbs over a nipple.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes." Your answer is breathy, your lips seeking out his. Your skin sizzles everywhere it's pressed against Ice, but he's backing up. You're worried he's about to run for a split second, but the hot mouth on your nipple interrupts your whine for him to come back, a surprised moan tumbling out instead. "Oh god."

"You're so sensitive, aren't you?" he asks as a hand comes up to knead at your other breast, then he's ducking down to lick over your tit again. Wrapping his plush lips around the suddenly perky nipple. It's like he's lit a match, heat prickling along your chest, centering where his mouth applies slick, gentle pressure, unlike anything you've felt before. Barely-there teeth graze the sensitive bud, and your surprised jump earns you a chuckle. "Sorry, sweetheart." His tongue apologetic, whereas his tone is anything but. A whine spills from your kiss-stung lips as Ice's eyes meet yours. There's hardly any color left in them — pupils blown wide and eclipsing the blue with a rampant lust that makes your stomach turn in excitement.

"Honey," he purrs. His voice has a dry, raspy undercurrent that you're hopelessly enamored with. "You gonna make more of those sounds for me?" Ice asks as he stands upright, one hand massaging your chest as his other cups your cheek, bringing your lips close to his again. "I wanna know when I'm making you feel good."

You continue to undress each other in a similar fashion: one piece at a time as Ice leaves supple, slow kisses on every inch of your exposed skin, wordlessly conveying his adoration for every part of you until you're both down to your underwear. Then, he takes a step back, eyes a piercing blue as they rake over you.

You take the opportunity to climb onto the bed, eyes locked on his as his fingers dip below the waistline of his briefs and push them down his muscled thighs. You try to keep your eyes on his face, but they're drawn down, down, down past the defined 'V' of his hips to…

You flush red from the tips of your ears to your chest, but Ice isn't the least bit shy. Who would be with a body like that? And maybe you should've been more nervous, but when he joins you on the bed, you're itching to run your hands over him. Grab ahold of his broad shoulders. Drag your fingers over the hills and valleys of his front. You want to touch him, but you're not sure where to begin.

Ice rolls to the side as if he can sense your hesitance, leaning casually against your headboard. He opens his mouth — no doubt to offer you encouragement or ask if you're okay with this — but chokes on his words when you wrap a hand around him. Your eyes flicker to his dazed expression, a coquettish smile on your lips. "Is this right?" you ask as you give a light squeeze and feel him pulse in your hand.

You could get used to Ice's slack-jawed pleasure, the little groan he lets out as his head tips back and his eyes slip close. "Y-yeah," he manages to say after a moment. "You could do this, too." His hand rests over the top of yours, adjusting your grip on his cock and showing you how and where to apply pressure to make his toes curl.

But you don't spend much time with your hand wrapped around Ice. Sooner than you'd like, he shifts to bring your lips together, licking into your mouth while he takes your hand off of him. "As much as I like your hand on my cock, sweetheart," he husks, palms massaging at your hips before he thumbs at the thin band of your panties, "tonight's about you."

You lift your hips so that Ice can slide your panties down, and just like that, you're naked as the day you were born. A thrill makes its way up your spine that's equal parts nerves and excitement as Ice's fingers skate up your legs. He pauses when he reaches your upper thighs, fingers purposefully exploring everywhere but where you want him most.

“Has anyone touched you here?” Ice asks when his fingers finally slide against slick folds, gathering the wetness there and spreading it as you suck in a breath.

"Do I count?"

And Ice groans because no, you don't count. He presses a finger to your entrance. "This okay?"

You nod — "Please." — and he's pressing into you slowly. His finger is so much bigger than your own that you can't help but squeeze around him, unable to watch as the finger sinks into you and too flustered to look into his eyes.

"You're so wet," he coos, finger sliding from your walls as they try to hold him in place only to press back in. And you arch when his finger curls to catch your sweet spot. He takes advantage of your moan to slide his tongue against yours, two fingers massaging at your opening. "Think you can handle more?" You nod, and Ice squeezes both fingers into you, biting back a groan as you hiss and jerk your hips away from the sting of the larger intrusion.

Ice hates knowing he's the reason you're uncomfortable, but he isn't sure what he can do to help. He's almost as out of his element as you are. So, he kisses from the corner of your lips down the valley of your breasts. Distracts you with lips and teeth until your skin bears the red blossom of his affection and your hand is tangled in his hair. He licks over the mark with a satisfied hum and waits until you relax before beginning to pump his fingers slowly in and out of you. As you push back against his hand, his beautifully intense eyes are on yours again. "How're you feeling?"

"Full," you answer truthfully, not sure what to make of the feeling yet.

Ice lets out an amused exhale at your honesty. Two fingers are hardly comparable to what you've both got planned. "You're doing so good, baby," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear it. Purposefully crooks his fingers so a surprised moan tumbles from your lips. "Think you can handle one more? I'll make you feel good."

The promise in his eyes has you nodding. Ice removes his fingers from you before crawling down your body. Pressing a kiss to your ribs, above your belly button, against each of your hip bones. Your heart rate picks up as he lowers himself to the bed between your spread thighs. "You don't have to." Honestly, you're embarrassed at the idea of him putting his mouth on you down there.

But Ice rubs three fingers against your slit, and you tense up. "I want to." And as his fingers dip into your heat, he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit.

You aren't responsible for the way your hips buck into the wet pressure against your bundle of nerves or the wild noise that tears itself from you.

One of your arms comes up to cover your eyes when Ice sucks gently on your clit. He could do whatever he wanted to you so long as he kept doing that. Distantly, you're aware that he's got all three of his fingers knuckle-deep in you, and it burns, but that can be brushed aside. All that matters is how his tongue teases against you and how his other hand encourages you to chase your pleasure against his face.

You've gotten yourself off before, but that's nothing compared to what Ice has brewing in the pit of your stomach. It's toe-curling, tear-stirring, and you can't keep your mouth shut for the life of you. Not that Ice is complaining. When his mouth does leave you, it's to tell you how good you're doing, how pretty you are, how good you taste. How well you're taking his fingers.

Until the pressure is about to snap and your thighs begin to shake with the intensity of it.

And Ice pulls away.

"Feel good, sweetheart?"

"Well, I was." You fix him with a glare. "Why'd you stop?" It isn't a question so much as a demand for an answer. You'd been so close, then nothing.

"Didn't want you to finish before the main event," Ice says as he slips from the bed. "You still up for it?" He's fiddling with the foil packet in his fingers. "We don't have to."

But you're riding too high on the idea of it. Have wanted this for too long to let it slip through your fingers when you're so close. "Tom." You bite your lip in a way that you hope is alluring. "C'mere."

Ice rolls the condom on, slicks it up with a packet of lube — anything to make it easier for you — and climbs back onto your bed. He rolls you so you're resting on top of him. His cock pressed against your thigh as your legs fall on either side of his hips. "It'll be easier if you can control it," he assures you, thumbs back to tracing delicate patterns into your skin while he tries to keep from grinding his hips up into you.

"So I just–" you lift yourself off his lap and look down at his cock lying against his toned stomach "–sit back on it?"

"That's the gist of it. Nervous?"

"No." But your answer comes too fast to be sincere.

"Don't be," Ice says. A hand leaves your hip to cup your cheek, and you press into the caress. It isn't often that Ice completely drops the cool confidence he's so known for, and you revel in this warmer side of him. Soak it in like the sun. "We'll take it at your pace." You nod.

"How do I–?"

"Here, let me just–"

The two of you shift awkwardly until you feel the blunt head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. Before Ice can offer you another out, you push back, baring your teeth and hissing as the fat head slips inside you. Even after Ice's three fingers, the stretch is a lot.

Ice's jaw clenches, his hands grabbing big handfuls of your bedsheets. "You're doing great. Just go slow." His fingers flex and relax as he forces himself to take deep breaths in his nose and out his mouth. You're so tight and hot and his head is spinning. But he refuses to look away as you grow accustomed to his girth.

Slowly, you work your way down until — after what feels like and may well be an eternity later — you're fully seated in his lap.

"Is it okay if we stay here for a bit?" you ask.

His voice is strained when he tells you to take all the time you need. At a loss for what else to do, his hands massage your thighs where they're strained around his hips. Runs a hand up along the long line of your back until he's cupping your breasts again. He hopes that his gentle touch is helping to take your mind off the stretch. It helps, but what you really want is his lips on yours. To get lost in his mouth until the discomfort dissolves into the pleasure you've been promised. That he'd given you a taste of and then taken away. But with the way he's laid out on your pillows, you're not sure you can reach his lips, so you settle for pressing a kiss into his palm when his thumb brushes against your cheekbone.

You tentatively rock your hips against Ice's when the ache begins to dull. A simple back and forth that makes him grunt in surprise, but the feeling isn't uncomfortable anymore. It just feels new.

"You don't have to move if you aren't ready." His hand squeezes you reassuringly.

"I know," you say, moving on his lap again. The same forward and back motion. "I want to." You can feel his muscles tensing with the effort to lay still while you experimentally rock against him. Can see the strain in his neck and across his brow and in the sweat that gathers at his temples. And you like that you're able to reduce him to this.

You're so busy watching Ice's face that you don't notice when his thumb presses against your clit. You fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest, head falling forward as you keen, trying to roll on into his touch. "That's it," Ice encourages, his voice rough like he's been running. "Feeling good, baby?" Instead of answering, your hips pick up speed. Grinding into Ice's fingers and back onto his cock as you get used to the feel of him inside you, your earlier discomfort starts to give way to pleasure. Little sparks light up your nerves. "C'mon," he grunts. "Gotta tell me how it feels."

"It feels—" you try to concentrate on the feeling. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's a far cry from what you felt earlier. "—different."

"Good different, bad different?"

You swivel your hips, and Ice's eyes are half-lidded.

"Good, I think?"

Ice nods, his adam's apple bobbing. "You can also try…" he trails off.

"Try what?"

His hands still your hips, then his arms flex as he helps you raise them an inch or two off his lap before slowly lowering you back down. You repeat the motion, lifting yourself off of Ice's lap and then sitting back, his cock rubbing against something that makes you groan. "Like this?"

"Yeah, baby. Just like that," Ice encourages, eyes torn between looking into your face and watching how you take him so well. A groan rumbles deep in his chest, and you decide that you like it, so you lift yourself up again. And again. Each rise and fall unhurried. Exploratory. "Doing so good."

It isn't long before your legs start to tire. The strain from straddling Ice and bouncing slowly in his lap is too much for you to keep up with. Sensing this, Ice sits up and gathers you in his arms. Your legs give out, gratefully coming to a stop as he holds you to his chest and captures your lips in a languid kiss.

"Hang on to me, sweetheart." That's all the warning Ice gives you before he's tipping you backward and stretching over you, his hips snug to yours as he lays you on your back and sucks your lower lip into his mouth. "You did so good," he praises, running his hands soothingly over your legs as they fall tired and boneless at his sides. "Let me take care of you."

You nod, your eyes half-lidded as Ice's breath puffs against your cheeks. This is what had been missing in your previous position. The closeness. Your hands snake up from Ice's shoulders to cup his strong jaw, your noses bumping as you pull his lips to brush over yours. Your sigh washes over him, nails catching in his hair as he pushes into you from this new angle, cock nudging against your sweet spot with delicious precision.

His body is screaming for him to pick up the pace, but Ice can't bring himself to do that without making sure you're okay. He's about to ask for what must be the umpteenth time when your head tilts back, your back arching with a wanton moan as you bring your breasts flush with his chest.

"Oh my god."

"That feel good, baby?" His eyes follow the flicker of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your lips. He pulls out a little further and sinks back into you at the same angle, hoping for a similar reaction and getting it — your mouth falling slack as you quiver beneath him. "I'm going to speed up." He waits for your nod, then sets a pace you'll be comfortable with, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check as you push into each roll of his hips, moans falling unchecked from your lips.

"Just like that. Oh, fuck."

"That's it," he encourages, littering your neck with increasingly sloppy kisses, nipping and sucking at your collarbone. "Tell me what you need."

Your hands have moved from his hair to clutch at his shoulder blades, nails digging in and leaving behind little half moons every time your hands scramble for a new purchase. Your face is flushed a delightfully amorous red, eyes glazed and swimming half-focused between Ice's lips, face, and the ceiling as you shout your pleasure for all to hear. For Ice to hear.

"Touch me," you finally gasp, eyes screwing shut before you blink up at him again. "Please, Tom. I'm so– fu– touch me, please, please, please."

As if he'd ever be able to deny you anything.

Fingers find your clit, cock nailing your sweet spot, and your reaction is instantaneous. Pleasure arcs white-hot across your nerves, sizzling and popping beneath your skin as you writhe.

"Holy shit," you finally sigh, content to melt into your comforter as the afterglow of your high continues to fizzle through your veins. You bring Ice into a lazy kiss, only to grunt when he pulls out of you.

He's still hard.

"You didn't…?" You reach for him as soon as it registers. Ice lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around him like he'd shown you earlier.

"You don't have to," he says even as his hips fuck forward into your fist.

"But I want to." Ice looks like he's about to protest, but you stop him: "Let me take care of you. Please."

"Yeah." His eyes close, and he swallows, sitting up, and you follow him. "Yeah, okay." He strips the condom off and takes his cock in hand, pumping it a couple of times before he lets you take over, kneeling at his side and nibbling along the sharp line of his jaw. Tasting the salt on his skin.

You watch as Ice is slowly undone by your hand. Head tilting back and Adam's apple bobbing as you thumb over the head. Brows furrowing. Mouth falling slack. Hips pressing into each stroke. More noises fall from his pretty lips as he watches the way you squeeze him, precum beading at his tip and cock twitching, and you savor it. Like that you're the one wringing each noise and twitch out of him.

Curiosity gets the better of you as the press of Ice's hips into your hand grows sloppy, and you lower yourself down to the bed. Your breath ghosts over your fist. Ice lets out a needy whine as your eyes lock with his from beneath your lashes, and you tentatively stick your tongue out for the tiniest taste of him. A kitten lick. That proves to be Ice's undoing. His cock twitches, hips pressing frantically into your hand as he moans. Thick ropes of cum coat your hand and land on his abs as he heaves for breath.

"Good?"

Ice chuckles. "I'm supposed to be asking you that."

"I asked first." You smile playfully and bite your lip when Ice looks down at the mess you've both made of him as if that should be answer enough.

"Where did you learn that?" he can't help by ask. He's unable to get the image of you on your knees with your pink tongue on his cock out of his mind's eye, and he's pretty sure it's seared into his brain.

You blush, looking away as you nervously bite at your lip. "I might've asked my friends for some advice."

Ice wants to laugh; instead, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head as he gets up to find some tissues. So he isn't the only one who'd asked for advice.

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