#too gun fanfic

[romcomxdd]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Top Gun (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin Characters: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia Additional Tags: Mentioned Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Getting Together, Fluff, Gay, the dagger squad meddling Summary:

‘Hate to say it told you so.’ Bradley commented as he joined Jake by the heater. He had to admit, the warmth was nice.

‘Go away.’ Jake muttered, his hands held dangerously close over the metal grid. The blue tint that had begun to show on his lips, not that Bradley had been looking at them, had begun to recede, and Jake was looking noticeably more relaxed.

Bradley sighed, why was he like this? ‘Cmon Jake, you’re freezing,’

-

Or Jake is a stubborn shit and Bradley has to deal with it :]

[frozen-seagrass]

Thinking about Mav being unsure of what Ice's eye color is

Of course he's not going to do the normal thing and ask the man, so he settles for finding ways to get up close and personal to try and see for himself without being obvious (-> he fails)

But every time he gets a close enough look they're different. One day they look blue but the next they look hazel. One moment they look brown but then he turns his head and a different light catches on them and they look almost green

It turns into one big game of "How close will he let me get? How much will he let me see?" And it's not until he's gotten to the point of being a breath away from Ice's face- close enough to brush lips- and standing under the bright white LEDs that he realizes that they're gray

[kryptonitejelly]

A flyboy!universe idea/drabble because of this scene. Set in flyboy, but can be read as a standalone - Jake Seresin x you ft. Seresin sibling squabbling.

This is just me clearing up and finishing off the one billion wips sitting in my drafts…. these are just moments tbh.

Wish you were here.

Jake shoots off the text to you, telling you for what seems to be the hundredth time in that day that he wishes you were here. He sticks his phone back in his pocket, but not before taking a glance at his lock screen - a photo of you from a recent weekend where you both had gone to a flower market to pick up some blooms for home and Jake had managed to snap a candid photo of you bending down with your nose to a bouquet of fresh stalks.

“I’m sick of you moping,” Jake’s sister, Emma says as she comes into view, Layla in her arms. Jake opens his arms for his niece to which he gets an immediate response of her attempting to wriggle out of her own mother’s hold and into his. It makes Emma roll her eyes and Jake grin.

“We like Uncle Jake better don’t we,” he chuckles as the little girl secures her place in his arms and lets her head drop comfortable on his shoulder with a giggle.

“After all I’ve done for these kids,” Emma sighs dramatically in jest as she reaches out to tickle Layla’s stomach which makes her squirm in Jake’s hold.

“I’m not moping,” Jake says as Layla wriggles further into his hold, returning to Emma’s original topic of conversation, “I just miss my wife”

“Not your wife yet,” Emma corrects, but teasingly. Jake had taken to call you his wife as the wedding grew nearer - something he had easily, and happily, fallen into.

“Your wife,” Layla’s head pops up as she pats her Uncle Jake on the cheek the ruffles of her white poofy dress rustling as she moves her hand.

“That’s right princess, my wife,” says Jake as he grabs hold of Layla’s tiny arm, blowing a row of raspberry kisses into it.

It makes Layla giggle in excitement, her previous statements forgotten as she squirms in Jake’s arms.

“Has the wedding come and gone?” The sound of your voice makes Jake’s head whip up and you find yourself staring into stunned green eyes.

“Turns out the problem was easily solved,” you explain as you step forward, first hugging Emma hello before reaching out to allow Layla, who has her arms out and reaching to you, to find her way into your arms.

“You’re pretty,” she says in child-like awe as she pats your cheek gently.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you say with a gasp, doing a twirl together with Layla in your arms which earns you a child like shriek of excitement. You return to your original position, matching grins on yours and Layla’s faces only to find two pairs of similarly green eyes watching you both. Your eyes meet Jake’s and you take in the wide smile he has on his face. You pass Layla off to Emma who, reading her brother, has extended her arms to coax her daughter back into her hold.

“Surprise,” you say as Jake pulls you close to him, the front of your body flush against his, your heads pulled away just enough so that you could look at each other. Jake’s hand is resting in the small of your back.

“I would have come get you from the airport.”

“Missing the point of a surprise,” you tease, placing a palm on his chest, your hand meeting a the linen blend suit jacket he has on.

“Best kind of surprise,” Jake says before leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your head, “but I’ll always prefer having you back earlier.”

His words make your smiler wider as you hear a pretend gag from Emma.

“You’re disgusting,” she says, as affectionately as a sister can, to Jake, her and Layla watching as Jake presses another kiss to the side of your head, before shifting you both to face the two of them with you now tucked into his side, his hand on massaging small circles into your waist.

“You’re disgusting,” is what Jake retorts in a way only a younger brother can, no matter the age.

“Are my grandchildren squabbling again,” the familiar voice of Grandma Doris sounds out as she comes sweeping into view. She’s met by two defiant sets of “yes-es” from Jake and Emma but ignores them for you instead, taking your hands as she pulls you in for an embrace, swatting Jake’s hold on you away in the process, “you look lovely my dear.”

“I was afraid it would be too simple,” you say, almost bashfully.

“Nonsense,” Grandma Doris waves a hand in the air, dismissing your concerns, “you look perfect.”

“You do,” Jake agrees, he lets his grandmother have you for a second more, but he reaches forward, gently tugging you back towards him by your waist.

“Won’t even let his Grandmother win,” is what she says to you with a smile on her lips despite the exasperated shake of her head that follows along as she releases her hold on you.

“He’s impossible,” you say with a chuckle, but only slightly bashful as Jake secures you back against his side.

“I’m not letting her go for the rest of the evening,” he informs the group matter of factly to which both Seresin women roll their eyes.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him,” Emma says to you.

“No, we’re sorry,” Grandma Doris echos, as the two women shake their heads.

“I’m not sorry,” is all Jake supplies cheerily before planting another kiss on the side of your head.

[galehautstomb]

that cold-sweat wrung out feeling of finishing a fanfic at 5 am the sun peeking through your curtains onto your tear-stains, because god fucking damn it, what have you just read, why does it ACHE, you’re going to have an aneurism, people write things like this, just to leave you dry mouthed, the fundamental neurons of your brain forever changed, what is canon if not the way this writer plucks your heart out and eats it and licks their fingers afterward and—

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[whohasthecards]

Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)

Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.

The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game. 

By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick  to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.

“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.

“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.

“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.

He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.

“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.

“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.

Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.

“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.

Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”

Jake frowned at that.

“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.

“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”

“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”

“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”

Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.

“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”

“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”

It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”

Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.

“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”

“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”

“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”

He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.

“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.

“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging. 

“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around. 

“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.

“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”

Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

“Hmmm, 21?”

Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”

Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”

Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.

“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.

“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.

Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.

—

“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?” 

Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully. 

“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”

“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”

“Let me check with Ice.”

—

“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.

“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”

“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”

“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”

“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”

“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”

“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”

“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”

—

Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?

Sure, Jakey

—

Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.

Bradshaw was Nick’s son?

Is that why he was angry?

—

Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead. 

Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?

You can find out.

“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”

No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.

“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.

“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”

“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”

“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.

—

They’re alive.

He saved them.

Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.

A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.

Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

—

The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.

He felt his phone ping with a text.

Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.

Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.

—

“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!” 

It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.

“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh. 

“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.

Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.

“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.

“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.

Mav’s an ace.

“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.

Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”

Killing people.

No, not now.

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.

Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”

Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”

Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”

He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.

“Have plans, already, huh?”

“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”

Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”

Jail with Nick? What a joke.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”

“As if you can talk.”

—

Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Hangman?”

“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.

“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.

“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.

“It’s okay, pops–”

“How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.

“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.

“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”

“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.

“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.

“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.

“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.

Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago. 

“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”

“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”

“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.

“Baby brother-?”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”

“Ice?”

“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”

“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.

“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”

“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.

“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”

“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.

“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.

“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.

“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.

“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.

“What?” Jake said, confused.

“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.

—

“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Ice told Mav that he'd take this one, after getting the call from Penny.

So, when Ice walks into the Hard Deck, his eyes immediately start searching the room for Bradley, and find him in the back at the pool table.

He heads to the back area of the bar, catching Penny's eye on the way and giving her a wink. When Ice gets to the pool table area he sees that Bradley is not actually alone, he's there with Lieutenant "Bob" Floyd, who looks about as hopeless as Penny sounded on the phone earlier.

Bob suddenly notices Ice's presence, and he stands up a bit straighter as Ice gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

...All the while, Bradley just keeps playing pool and grumbling loudly to himself.

"Sir - " Bob begins.

" - Dismissed."

"Oh, thank you sir..." Bob replies, sounding extremely relieved as he leaves the pool table and heads to the bar.

"Bradley...?" Ice leans over the pool table and tries to get in Bradley's line of sight "...talk to me, please."

"Nothin' to talk about," Bradley replied, as he lined up his shot, then hit the ball over to the middle pocket, and it bounced off the edge of the pocket, missing the target. "You gonna play? Looks like Bob couldn't take the heat."

"I think what Bob couldn't take was the headache you were giving him," said Ice, as he picked up the abandoned pool cue.

"What?"

"Bradley, half the bar can hear you grumbling over here," Ice told him. "You've got black storm clouds floating right over your head for God's sake. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Bradley insisted. "Now are you gonna play or not?"

Ice shrugged. "Sure," he said.

Ice lined up his shot, and sunk two balls into the far corner pocket, like it was absolutely nothing.

Bradley rolled his eyes as Ice straightened up and tried not to look smug.

"...But I guarantee, with the way I play and the way you seem to be playing right now, it's gonna be a pretty short game," Ice told him.

Bradley sighed. "I'm just a little off tonight, no big deal," he said.

"Any particular reason why?"

"No."

Ice gave him a pointed look.

Bradley huffed. "Just having...issues with...someone," he grumbled.

"Relationship issues?"

"It's not a relationship," Bradley countered, quickly.

"Then what is it?"

"It's....he....he left for a deployment in Italy today," Bradley grumbled. "And I went over to see him just to say goodbye, y'know, and it turned into 'Oh, Rooster, I didn't know you cared?' and so of course I was like, 'I don't care, just send my apologies to all those poor Italian people who'll have to endure your presence for the next few months.' And then it turned into talking about all the Italian guys he was gonna meet over there, and how they'd probably happily 'endure' his 'presence', and then I got mad, so I just kinda left."

"So, you didn't actually get to say goodbye then?" Ice pointed out.

"No, I guess not," said Bradley. "I just...it's so easy for him to just...annoy me like that, and then...stupid Italian guys - "

"So, your problem is that you don't want Jake Seresin to hang around with hot Italian guys, is that it?" Ice asked.

Bradley froze, and stared at Ice.

"...I never said anything about Jake Seresin," he said.

"Bradley, all you ever do is talk about Jake Seresin," Ice told him. "Did the two of you really think you were being discrete?"

"We were being - !" Bradley started, then clamped his lips together for a moment. "...It's always just been a casual thing. Nothing serious or official."

"...But now he's going to Italy," said Ice "...and he might be hanging around with 'hot Italian guys', and you don't like that."

"It's not like he's never been deployed without me before," said Bradley. "It's not like I haven't had to deal with feeling like this before. And I have! I've dealt with it just fine."

"Well, maybe this time is different because you're hitting a breaking point," said Ice. "Maybe, it's time you two finally had a serious talk about this 'casual thing' of yours."

"Why do you say 'casual thing' like that?" Bradley asked. "Like you're judging?"

"I'm not judging it, Bradley. I've been down that road myself before," Ice told him. "And I'm saying 'casual thing' like that because if you're feeling so troubled at the thought of him with somebody else, then maybe it's not a very 'casual' thing at all."

Bradley blew out a long, tired breath, as he stared at the pool table, supposedly looking for another shot.

"One thing I do know for sure, though..." said ice, as he walked around the table to stand beside Bradley "...is that Jake Seresin will not be 'meeting' any hot Italian guys."

Bradley glanced over at him and smirked. "What, you really gonna try and cockblock him from here?" he asked.

"Don't doubt my powers, Bradley Bradshaw, I'm the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, I can do a lot of things," Ice told him. "...Just ask Maverick."

Bradley snorted back a laugh.

"No, I mean, he may talk a big game about what he's gonna do over there, but I guarantee you, he's not gonna do any of it," Ice told him. "He doesn't want to."

"How do you know?" Bradley asked.

"Because I've been him, Bradley," Ice told him. "First he wanted to beat you and be the best pilot, then he wanted to bed you and prove that you wanted him...and now he's trying not to fall in love with you."

Bradley didn't say anything, he actually looked a little terrified now.

"And Bradley," Ice continued. "I guarantee, he may've won those first two rounds, but that last one?" Ice leaned in now and lowered his voice so that only Bradley could hear him "...I think you'll both find that he lost it a long time ago."

Bradley still didn't say anything, so Ice just smiled and straightened up, then put his pool cue back against the wall.

"Work on your game, kid," said the older man. "I'll see you at dinner on Sunday."

Ice then gave him a wave, and walked away, out of the bar.

Bradley thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone as he sat down on a nearby stool.

Can we talk when you get back? he texted.

He only had to wait about a minute before he got a reply.

Sure. You miss me already? (with a smirking emoji, of course)

Bradley took a deep breath, then sent back his reply.

...Yeah. I do.

[greenfrogartist]

Been a while since I’ve drawn anything but guess what

A fanart! For the fic “Missing”by @zoiaeras !

Honestly it’s more of how I imagine Peter’s design to be rather than a fanart, cause usually when I do a fanart I either draw a scene or as I’ve lately been doing draw what I imagine the cover would look like (to be fair I kinda drew the breakfast scene? )

So this is more like a very small character sheets?? And the design is wrong a bit (his hair is supposed to be a bit longer but I only ingrained the choppy hair part)

Tried to keep the blue and red of his spidey suit in, but darker and paler to show the effects Gotham had on him

Honestly the fic is amazing! and the pacing is a chef kiss, and the comedy is on point for me and what I love the most about this is that it’s doing other stuff rather than just sticking to the norm of peter - Gotham crossover

Other characters are present, there is a plot being made and the characterization makes sense for the life the characters lived, and we’re even out of Gotham and introducing other superheroes to the plot like Superman and the flash and also villains like lex Luther

And what’s fun about this fic is that currently, the strongest thing Peter have is his brain, but he is still stupid outside of building stuff (I love this adorable bean)

My most favorite thing about it is probably the plot point and that things are actually happening with consequences to them that change the status que of the fic

The fic feels like a never stopping train wreck about to happen and I’m so excited to see just how big the crash will be and how sharp the debris left of it are

Honestly I can go on and on about this fic forever but that’s mean more spoiler which is a big no no

Just know that if you want a dc x peter crossover, with more justice league characters in it, this is the fic for you

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Water Gun Fight / "It's Not What You Think"

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Mox, Stak, Deke, Omega, Lyana, Jax, Eva, Hunter, Crosshair Set when everyone is living happily on Pabu :) Word Count: ~1560 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The children of Pabu have a water gun fight

Check out a teeny sneak peek of the amazing artwork @the-little-moment did to go with my fic! Go see the full piece HERE and tell her how awesome she is!

“This isn’t fair. Whoever gets the clones on their team will win.”

Mox folded his arms, a faint, aloof smile painting his face. Either side of him, Stak and Deke stood loose and ready, empty water-pistols held with casual, easy confidence.

“Omega’s a clone too,” he pointed out. “So there’s four of us. You can have two on each team to keep it even.”

“That’s not even,” said Deke with exaggerated annoyance. “Omega was trained by the defectives. She fights dirty.”

“She fights tactically,” corrected Mox, smiling at the blonde girl whose own lips twitched in amusement. “Makes it a challenge.”

Around them the children of Pabu shifted and muttered as a ripple of discussion ran through the group. Some of the younger ones were already getting bored with the idea of teams and rules, pretending to aim at each other and pulling the triggers of their empty water pistols with giggles.

The older ones were taking the issue much more seriously. Nobody could decide what counted as an unfair advantage when it came to the former cadets’ and Omega’s training.

“I think the clones should only be allowed to target each other,” volunteered Jax. His confidence was blossoming with the care he received from his new foster-family on Pabu. “That would make it fair… right?”

“But the rest of you can still target us?” scoffed Stak. “No way.”

“We haven’t even picked team captains yet!” groaned Lyana, dragging her hands dramatically over her face. “At this rate the sea will dry up before we fill these water pistols!”

“I have an idea.”

Omega’s voice cut clearly over the chatter, and the children fell quiet. She had that effect when she took command.

She turned to Deke with a smirk that made her look oh-so-like her younger brother, if only she had a toothpick to hand. “You think I fight dirty?”

There was a deceptive casualness to her tone, the way her dark brown eyes flicked to his from under her long lashes.

Deke shifted uncomfortably, aware that being trapped in the spotlight of Omega’s attention whilst she was plotting something was not where he wanted to be.

“How about… I don’t participate?”

A cry immediately went up from the other children, the small crowd surging to surround her. Eva took her hand, tugging gently.

“You have to play, Omega. You have to.”

Omega held up her free hand, and all eyes turned to her. Mox was smiling out the corner of his mouth, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. He nodded to invite her explanation.

She fixed him with a firm look, challenge in her smile. “I won’t participate,” she repeated, squeezing Eva’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll direct them. The rest of the island against you three. Think you can handle it?”

Stak looked up at Mox, his face breaking into a wide grin. Mox glanced from Stak to Deke, taking in the latter’s nerves, then looked back to Omega.

His smile curved wide as he nodded.

“You’ve got a deal.”

*

“I don’t like this,” muttered Deke as they crept along the side of a building, pressed tight to the shadows and ignoring the glances and titters from the adults going about their daily business. “Omega will be planning something.”

“Exactly,” said Stak with a confident grin. “Wouldn’t be a challenge otherwise.”

Mox smiled but shushed their chatter, leaning round the wall to check the coast was clear. The water gun sat heavy in his hands, freshly reloaded. He’d emptied it – apologetically, almost – into a brother and sister in Lower Pabu.

That was the rule of the game. A soaked t-shirt meant you were out.

He ducked back when a jet of water streamed in his direction, accompanied by giggling.

Quirking an amused eyebrow at the other two, he gestured with his head. In moments the clones were storming the main street, water splashing everywhere, as shrieks of laughter filled the air.

In the end five dripping children stood about, huge grins on their faces, whilst the three clone boys were still bone-dry.

Lyana was among the victims. She had been drenched head-to-toe when Stak and Deke chased her into a corner, shielding her head with her arms to little effect and sobbing with laughter the entire time.

She stood proudly with her arms crossed now, her ‘troops’ at her side.

“Well, what now, boys?” she challenged.

Stak stepped forward, levelling the brightly coloured super-soaker towards her. “Tell us where your general is,” he demanded, unable to bite back his grin.

Lyana laughed. “You’ll never find her.”

“She’s at the Archium,” said Mox with a grin.

“You don’t know that,” piped up one of the Pabu boys bravely, but Mox just chuckled.

“It’s where I’d direct my squad from,” he said, tilting his head up and shielding his eyes from the glare of Pabu’s sun as he gazed up towards Upper Pabu.

“Reckon we can fight our way up there?” asked Deke, stepping to his side.

“Sure.” He glanced back at Lyana with a sly smile. “We’ve taken out her lieutenant. It won’t be long before we’ve ended this.”

*

The adults were generous about letting the clones into their houses to refill their water guns. A lifetime’s training came back easily, even after the soft months without warfare on Pabu, and Deke and Stak easily fell into their roles following Mox’s orders.

They avoided combat when they could to conserve their water supplies. Were ruthless in drenching the island’s children when they could not.

Jax made a valiant attempt to divert them, dancing tauntingly in the mouth of an alley-way which wound into darkness behind the shadow of a two-storey building. Deke laid a warning hand on Stak’s arm.

“Watch out. It could be an ambush.”

“He’s one kid,” grinned Stak. “How bad can it be?”

Jax backed away slowly as Stak advanced. He held his water pistol loosely in one hand as he raised his arms in surrender.

“See?” called Stak. “Not so bad.”

A muffled giggle sounded. Then Eva popped up from the balcony above, tipping a bucket of water which splashed squarely onto Stak, soaking his hair, his shirt, and most of his shorts.

The clone gasped with the shock of it, then a grin spread wide on his face. Jax’s face danced with mirth.

“Vengeance!” howled Mox playfully, and he and Deke dove into the alley, water guns firing. Soon the two force sensitive children were similarly drenched, laughing as Stak threw an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Guess I’m out,” he said good-naturedly, grinning at his brothers. “Think you can take the general down by yourself?”

“Leave it to us,” said Deke with a smile and a salute. “We’ll end Omega’s reign of terror. Just you wait and see.”

*

Storming the plaza in front of the Archium was a running battle. The clones ducked and hid behind market stalls, weaving between chuckling adults as they pursued their quarry, the other laughing children.

Water pistols emptied. Were refilled. Were replaced with weapons ‘looted’ from ‘fallen’ enemies.

Before long they had Omega pinned. Deke leaned over her where she lay on her back, winded but still smiling slyly, where he had tackled her to the floor.

“Orders, sir?” he asked over his shoulder.

“If we’ve captured their general we can negotiate,” said Mox with a cautious glance at Omega. She smoothed her face into an innocent expression, which was a dangerous thing.

“I say we execute her.” Deke primed his super-soaker. “She’s too dangerous to let her live.”

Mox shook his head. “Let her reach her com. She can call her troops off.”

Reluctantly, Deke lifted his foot from where he had pinned Omega’s arm. The blonde girl’s smile returned as she slowly inched her arm towards her face, activating her wrist-com.

“Havoc-1?”

“Yeah?”

The deep rumble of Hunter’s voice was so unexpected that both younger clones backpedalled in shock.

“Hunter–” said Mox, startled, and Deke glanced in panic at Omega’s prone position as he added, “It’s not what you think!”

Hunter folded his arms, tattooed face shadowed with displeasure, stepping forwards to shield Omega and loom over the cadets.

Mox glanced uneasily between them, holding his hands out to his sides in surrender.

“It’s a game–” he began.

The jet of water caught him squarely in the back, running down his spine to soak him to the skin. He yelled, and his shout was echoed by Deke when a similarly targeted blast drenched him too.

The clones spun, searching for the source of the attack. It didn’t take them long to spot Crosshair perched in the weeping maya tree, an impressively large super-soaker in his hands, toothpick clenched between teeth which were bared in a grin.

“No fair,” objected Deke. “This game is supposed to be for kids.”

“It is,” said Hunter, and now he let his brooding façade crack as he picked Omega up from the floor with a fond smile. “Didn’t you hear? We’re younger than Omega. If she can play, we can play…”

Omega returned her big-little brother’s smile and turned a sympathetic look on the two dripping cadets.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said blithely, glancing first at Hunter and then at Crosshair with adoration in her eyes. Her smile turned soft. “You were never going to win, not when I have them.”

Haha well way back at the submitting prompts stage it was my kiddo who volunteered water gun fight, and I guess you know I engaged in some spurious voting practice to get it into the top 26... thrilled that it got drawn as week 1!

With thanks to @ninjadeathblade who said Crosshair should be camping in the weeping maya tree waiting to snipe the cadets :P

And thanks to the amazing @kybercrystals94 for organising this challenge! You struck up a conversation with me out of the blue last summer and it's been so fun spending the past 10 months bouncing fic ideas back and forth as well as participating in prompt challenges with you. And now you're hosting your own one! Bad Batch Themed! How great is that! :D

[lupuslikethewolf]

literally him in ANY situation tbh

(in this case, it was baiting iceman. because of course it was.)

[missxwrites]

fix you too - jake seresin x plus size!reader aesthetic

whooo! okay, y'all, I did NOT expect this series to garner so much attention in such a short time!! I'm really excited that you guys are loving this even though this is the first part and it was short! I'm half way done with part 2 already so hopefully it'll be up soon!!! enjoy this all-around series aesthetic because it makes my brain happy (:

Read the 'fix you too' series here!!

[polar-equinoxx]

You Can Be My Light💫

Chapter Six is here!!

finally :,)

[thatsrightice]

Iceman would have been a perfect fit for the VF-101 Grim Reapers. One of the coolest squadrons of F-14 Tomcats, VF-101 was stationed in Oceana, Virginia. They traveled around the country performing air show demonstrations of what the F-14 was capable of. The demonstration routine must be flown a specific way with little room for errors or creativity liberty. Iceman is ice-cold, no mistakes. He’s calm, calculated, disciplined, and every other quality that is necessary to fly airshows perfectly (and safely).

Maverick is not.

Maverick is an amazing pilot but he is dangerous. He is reckless, unpredictable, and has a looooong history of disobeying orders. Never in a million years would they let him fly airshows, regardless of how many MiGs he’s taken down. At an air show you can’t go off script or you’ll be putting everyone’s lives at risk.

But Iceman? He’s perfect. With him and Slider, they’d be the ultimate recruiting force. You’ve got the pilot and RIO who are so fucking cool and funny and know they’re the best. Everyone wants to be them.

VF-101 doesn’t just fly air shows though. It’s a collateral duty. They’re a replacement squadron who fills in gaps at aircraft carriers temporarily or train crews in carrier operations on carriers in extreme situations when necessary. The crews in VF-101 deploy at sea with their other squadrons and the when they’re not deployed they’re demo pilots and FRS instructors. That’s what makes it a perfect fit for Iceman and Slider. They’re still being deployed and serving their country but when they’re back on land they get to have a little fun.

[iwasthesouthernpansy]

I was laying in bed this morning and I finished a Top Gun fanfic and I told my husband about it. He was like “Damn I wanna watch Top Gun now” and he got out of bed and I heard Danger Zone from his office. The dangers of mentioning Top Gun to a man.

[iceman-maverick]

(temporary) amnesia/"I don't understand what that means."

“I don’t understand what that means,” Ice blinks. 

Maverick drops his head to hands and begins to say the alphabet backwards in his head to keep himself from throwing the damn clipboard out the window. 

“Ice,” Maverick tries again, “It’s a consent form. You have to sign it so that I can take you home,” 

Ice nods, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyebrows scrunch as he re-reads the papers in front of him for now the third time since the nurse began the discharge process.

Maverick can't find it in himself to be too put out, though. The bandage around Ice’s forehead must be bothering him since his fingers keep inching their way up to pull at it as he reads. Maverick, unwilling to stare at Ice in discomfort any longer, stands and crosses the distance between his chair and Ice’s bed.

Why they’d require a temporary amnesiac to fill out medical forms, Maverick does not know. But what he does know is that Ice is exhausted, likely in far more pain than he’s letting on, and that hospitals give Mav the creeps. 

All compelling reasons to get this show on the road. 

“Here,” Mav says, sitting down on the bed’s edge and plucking the clipboard from Ice's hands, “What are you confused about?” 

Ice has done a good job filling it out so far - no small feat given the massive concussion and head wound he earned himself this morning by accidentally smashing the edge of his car door into his forehead. Maverick had nearly had a heart attack when he found him crumpled in the garage in a pool of blood. So much for beating the morning traffic.

Ice has spelt his name correctly, has the right address, and even marked down the correct pharmacy around the block from their house. Mav squints his eyes - a perfect mirror of Ice before - as he combs through the forms to find the hold up. 

Ice huffs and points to the bottom section of the second to last page in the packet. It reads: Caregiver Consent Form. It’s a check list of the basics - caution when using ovens and other hot surfaces, no operating heavy machinery (Mav’s assuming that would include an F-14), and recommendations to lock up hazardous materials out of sight of the patient. 

Ice, clearly running low on patience and eager to get out of the bustling ER, draws his finger over the large paragraph of legal jargon that has Maverick’s eyes swimming. Ice points out Maverick’s legal name as Ice's designated caregiver and then taps on the portion of the form left blank: Relationship to patient. 

He looks back to Maverick, eyes wide, and asks, “What am I supposed to put here?” 

Maverick blinks at the form. Relationship. Huh.

They’ve been living together for the better part of two years now with Ice having moved in once he joined Maverick back at Top Gun. And they’ve been um, well, together for pretty much just as long. They never talked about labels but it’s been exclusive since the start and Ice has been wearing Mav’s dog tags since January. 

Maverick doesn’t have the slightest idea what that makes them but friends sure as hell doesn’t fit. He smirks a bit, and peers around their section of the ER to make sure nobody’s looking. The ER is in total chaos anyways - nurses scrambling, children screaming, and what looks to be a fist fight soon to be erupt between two elderly women fighting over the lone issue of People Magazine. 

Maverick leans in and presses a quick kiss to Ice’s cheek, and then takes advantage of Ice's poor, frazzled state to snatch the pen from Ice’s grasp. Maverick delights in the flush that colors Ice's cheeks, and then he begins to write. Ice recovers from his shock quickly, sputters once he reads what Maverick's writing, and then shoves at Maverick’s arm.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Ice whispers furiously as Mav breaks out into giggles. 

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Mav laughs as he scratches out his now aborted attempt at Boyfriend. He instead opts for the safer Roomate. “It’s a Civvy hospital, nobody would’ve found out,” 

“You’re an idiot,” Ice huffs fondly, shoving again at Mav’s arm. Ice quickly glances around the place and decides that the cost is clear. Or maybe it's the pain killers dulling his judgement. Either way, Ice drags his fingers lightly down Maverick’s forearm and then intertwines their fingers. 

“Take me home,” Ice whispers. He squeezes once, Maverick squeezes back twice. 

---

Congratulations! You've unlocked the prequel to my useless-whiny-baby syndrome ice fic (lost in admiration).

We're playing an IceMav askbox fic game. Send me a trope and a first sentence and I'll write at least one paragraph!

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 10

Word count: 2488 Warnings: nsfw A/N: sorry for taking so long, im in the hole again

Vince was almost there when the door of the closet opened. He turned around, thinking Nikki decided to help him – and instead saw Hudson looming in the doorframe.

“Wharton, again?!” He grimaced, pointedly staring at the wall. “Was the doctor not clear enough last time about your passion for fleshy pleasures?”

The orgasm, seconds ago so close, now was unbelievably far. Vince groaned in disappointment, sent Hudson a grim gaze.

“Could you come just a few seconds later?”

“And let you fall back into your corrupted behavior? Yeah, I don’t think so. Pull up your pants. We’re going to the doctor.”

Vince remembered the punishment he got last time he got caught masturbating and shuddered. The traces on his hands didn’t go away for good two weeks afterwards. And he was already pretty battered. Some more, and no one would bear looking at his ravaged flesh.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Slash gestured at the door impatiently. His other hand was lying on the doorknob, and light from the corridor lay in a stripe across his face and hair. Yeah, he was pretty handsome.

Vince made a resigned face, tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants, pulled them up and stepped towards the door. And then grabbed Hudson’s hand on top of the doorknob and forcefully pulled on it. The door closed with a loud bang, and it was dark again.

“What the f-“ Hudson pulled his hand out of Vince’s grip and jumped back, almost colliding with a wall. Vince didn’t try to stop him. He did keep his hand on the doorknob. “-uck?”

“Hey, man, calm down,” Vince began. “Let’s talk.”

“I have nothing to talk to you about.” Hudson stepped to the door, now standing mere inches away from Vince. And not that he was scared… but no one dared to tackle the infamous patient alone. “The doctor will hear about this. And if you don’t let me out right now…”

“Please, omit the threats. I have a suggestion.”

Hudson narrowed his eyes. “I don’t wanna know what it is.”

“Just listen.” Vince made a small step forward. The smallest of steps. Hudson didn’t back off, which was hopeful. “I bet it gets lonely in the nurses’ building.”

He could pull off a better starting line, but he had little time and just one attempt. One wrong word – and it’s over.

“You don’t get to go to town often, I bet,” Vince continued. “And I fucking bet Dr. Duren doesn’t let you invite ladies over.”

He smiled and put his hand on Hudson’s chest. Hudson looked at it like it was an exotic bug – disgusting and dangerous, but somewhat captivating - and didn’t shake it off.

The fish was on the hook.

“I don’t go that way,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, please,” Vince rolled his eyes. “Everyone says this until they spend a couple months in an all-male facility.”

“I’ve been here way more than a couple months,” Hudson reminded him.

“Yeah, and look how high-strung you are. Gotta relieve all that tension once in a while, you know?”

“And you’re offering to help.” Hudson concluded dryly.

“Exactly.” Vince poked him in the chest. “And you won’t tell Dr. Duren what I was doing here.”

Hudson’s face was grim, but Vince could feel his hastened breath, his tense muscles under the nurse coat. He was almost there. Just one little push.

Vince slowly drew his hand down Hudson’s torso and stopped it in the area of his abdomen. Then he shot a quick glance at him through his lashes and smiled as charmingly as he could, hoping that the darkness would obscure the missing left molar.

“Fuck,” Hudson exhaled, turning his head away- in shame, probably. “You better be good at it.”

Vince didn’t need a clearer invitation. He dropped on his knees, unbuttoned Hudson’s pants and pulled them down in one swift, experienced move. He heard interesting things about black men’s lengths. Hudson might be mixed, but maybe that heritage persevered?..

Yeah, no, the white side won. But that was even good. Won’t have to choke.

Hudson quietly gasped when Vince swallowed his whole cock at once. It was only half-hard, so it was not difficult. Vince licked the head, tasting salty precum, and smiled.

“Yeah, I can tell it’s been a while.”

“Shut up,” Hudson exhaled and thrusted his hips forward. Vince didn’t protest. They did have little time. His skills weren’t really required – it was just speed and depth that counted.

And quick and deep it was. Vince moved his head back and forth so quickly his lips went numb and his neck hurt. Hudson got braver and braver throughout the whole process: first he didn’t even dare touch Vince, then put a hand on his head and carefully guided it, and soon finally lost control, grabbed Vince by the hair and began violently thrusting forward, leaving Vince to just close his eyes, suppress his gag reflex (which still existed, no matter what haters said) and finally take care of himself.

Hudson was so occupied he didn’t even notice Vince pulled out his own cock and began stroking it. Hudson at the same time was nearing the end, and Vince helped him with his tongue a bit until he finally groaned, bent forward and came. Hot liquid went down Vince’s throat, but some still leaked in the corners of his mouth. While Hudson stood still, gathering his breath, Vince finished himself, and it was good he was already on his knees because the relief surely would have made them buckle.

Vince tapped on Hudson’s thigh for attention, showed him his sperm-covered hand and slowly licked it.

“You are so fucking sick,” Hudson murmured, ashamedly pulling up his pants and tucking his dick in.

“And you like it,” Vince grinned. Hudson could act all disgusted and untouchable as he wanted – Vince heard him whimper like a bitch just a couple minutes ago, and they both would never forget it.

“Get up,” Hudson tried to speak harshly, but the tremble of a recent orgasm was still hiding in the undertone of his voice. “We’ve wasted too much time already. Ew, not on the robe!”

Vince continued wiping his sperm off his fingers on the hospital robe even more thoroughly, ignoring numerous rags in various stages of decay kept in the closet. Hudson winced and turned away.

When Vince tried to get up, his legs didn’t like the sudden change of position, and he almost fell onto a cabinet full of cracked dishes (why were they even keeping it?) were it not for Hudson who caught him by the sleeve.

“You want the whole asylum to hear?” he hissed, pulling Vince upright.

“Hey, I’d look at you go after kneeling for so long!” Vince protested. His legs felt like they were pierced by a thousand needles, making him grimace. But Hudson didn’t notice – or didn’t care – and dragged him out of the closet and into the hall. Then he made Vince hobble in front of him the whole way to the canteen, occasionally prodding him in the back to speed him up.

Right at the door Vince, ignoring a yet another prod, stopped and turned to Hudson.

“You remember our deal? No one says anything.”

“I do,” Hudson said through his teeth. “Go in already!”

Nikki was there alone, lazily wiping a table. His expression turned from boredom to a poorly concealed gloating, and Vince realised why Hudson came to the closet so untimely.

Oh, Nikki is gonna pay for this.

***

Mick watched Simmons escort Tommy away with a mixed feeling. He knew, of course, that Tommy wasn’t gonna see the doctor. He felt sorry for the guy, so young and clueless and naïve, torn out of his environment and thrown into a completely different one where everyone wanted to eat him and crack open his bones. But also Tommy was rather obnoxious with his “I’m too noble for this” attitude and unwillingness to work. Simmons sure was gonna show him that once you were here, it didn’t matter anymore. Especially considering they had cut Tommy some slack already, his fancy room and all.

While waiting for Nikki Mick crouched behind the bush and began picking up brown leaves off the ground and stringing them on the twigs of the bush, creating a nice little curtain behind which he couldn’t be seen. And there were no leaves on the ground anymore at the end, so he was cleaning, wasn’t he?

Voices of other patients blended in together at the distance, creating a nice little background hum that was as familiar to Mick as the sun rising every day. He always took the position a little bit away from the crowd, observing from the distance. For a while already there were no signs of anything, which was comforting, even if just for a little bit. Routine and stability were a good thing. Change – not so much.

Then he heard a voice he knew too well, and his chest released the tension it was holding. It was Nikki’s voice, which meant he finished his canteen shift without issues. Mick peered from behind the bush and saw Michael point in his direction and Nikki head towards his bush with a springy step, waving the shovel in his hand back and forth. He looked… energized, which Mick hadn’t seen since Wharton dumped him. And it could only mean one thing.

“Don’t tell me you got back with him,” Mick said sharply when Nikki crouched next to him. “Don’t fucking tell me.”

Nikki’s face fell a bit.

“How could you tell?”

“You’re excited for the first time in weeks.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Nikki tried to make an innocent face. It was not very convincing.

“It wouldn’t be if I didn’t know the last time you were that excited was when you were hooking up with Wharton.”

Nikki sighed, looked away. “Why do you even notice these things? Don’t you have other things to do?”

“That’s what I do. Observe,” Mick said. “So. Who initiated it?”

“He did.”

“I fucking knew it.” Mick rubbed his eyes. “You see? He comes back to you when his balls get a little too full. Once they are empty he’ll dump you again.”

“Well,” Nikki suddenly grinned slyly, “I hope I did teach him a lesson that dumping me is a bad idea.”

Mick blinked in confusion, then in horror. “A lesson? God, what did you do?”

“Let’s just say… I showed him how it feels to be used.”

No amount of further questioning could get anything except mysterious smiles out of Nikki. Mick had a very bad feeling about this. Whatever revenge Nikki enacted, Wharton would never let it go unpunished.

Wharton, by the way. Where was he?

Mick had to change his position and hide behind another bush (this one, unfortunately, without a leaf curtain) to see Wharton. He was in the middle of the patient crowd, respectfully given space of about ten feet in a circle around him, scooping leaves from the ground one by one with his shovel and slowly, distractedly pile them up in a heap next to himself. Hudson watched him with an understandably sour face.

The sheer fact that Wharton worked at all was already strange. He would usually leave the peasants to it and set to rest somewhere under a tree, harass a good-looking patient, or, as of late, hide in the bushes with Nikki. The nurses knew better than to force him to work. Yet today he obliged. Was that the effect of Nikki’s revenge?

Oh god, this was gonna be bad. Very bad.

“Whatcha looking at?” Nikki followed him to the bush. “Ogling Vince, huh? I mean, he’s not in his best shape but there’s still a lot to look at-“

“He doesn’t look happy at your reunion,” Mick interrupted him.

“Oh, he’s just pissed at learning my lesson. He’ll get over it when, as you said, his balls fill up.”

Mick rolled his eyes. When Nikki was in this mood, it was impossible to make him treat something seriously, just as during his depressive episodes it was impossible to convince him to take things more lightly. His manic depression completely erased his middle ground; he was only capable of extremes.

Eventually they were shooed away from the bush closer to the patient crowd because McKagan couldn’t keep an eye on them and other patients at the same time. Wharton didn’t try to confront Nikki; he scarcely spared him a look. Before the canteen duty today Mick would rejoice. Now he only grew warier.

And so time passed until lunch, when they were gathered into pairs and ushered to the canteen. Wharton walked in the very back alone, at a sizeable distance from the rest. Mick saw him pull Hudson by the arm and say something to him with a sleazy smile, to which Hudson responded with a shove in the side that didn’t seem to discourage Wharton in any way whatsoever. Hudson must have lost a draw among nurses on who would herd Wharton today, now that he was finally out of the padded cell. Mick felt sorry for him. For Hudson, of course.

Tommy didn’t show up at lunch, which was slightly concerning – Simmons certainly hadn’t arranged a meeting with the doctor for him, but Mick hoped his special status would have helped him get away with it relatively unscathed. But that was not what worried him the most.

And he turned out to be right in his worry. Because just as lunch began, Wharton got up from the table, came up to Nikki and dumped a whole plate of soup over his head. Thankfully, the soup had already gone cold, but Nikki was still unpleasantly surprised. He shook his head, sending carrot and potato pieces flying, and dumped his own plate on Wharton.

Then the two, wet and greasy, began rolling on the floor trying to choke each other. Mick couldn’t break up the fight even if he wanted to because of his back, and while nurses were gathering their wits to intervene Nikki caught one in the eye and Wharton lost some of his hair. Then the nurses dragged them away from each other, and the only thing they had left was sending each other angry gazes.

The nurses took them right to Dr. Duren, and everyone continued eating as if nothing had happened. Under Duren, who harshly punished violence of any kind, fights were rarer but not unheard of. But Nikki and Wharton never fought before, even though their relationship was rather turbulent. Did it mean the end of it? Mick sure hoped so. If a cold plate of soup dumped on him couldn’t bring Nikki back to his senses and make him cut all ties with the bastard, nothing could.

Mick sighed, shook off a carrot that had landed on his sleeve and got down to his soup.