#top gun isn’t accurate

[thatsrightice]

They’re inaccurate, trust me I know. But the medals the aviators in Top Gun wear are cool and have meanings and map out a person’s military career.

Many caught my eye, but one in particular had me thinking, the Humanitarian Service Medal. In my research I found a table of approved operations for the HSM award put together by the government. That means he would have had to participate in and assist in one of the operations on the list. On the list I searched for one that caught my eye from the late 70s to early 80s, prior to Top Gun where Iceman and the others are seen wearing them, and one stood out.

Hurricane Iwa Relief 1982 (Hawai’i, US)

Hurricane Iwa was one of if not the worst hurricane Hawai’i had experienced up to that point in terms of damage. It also happened to be the “first hurricane to hit Hawaii in 23 years” according to The New York Times.

It was the final storm of hurricane season, occurring just before Thanksgiving on November 25, 1982 with winds of up to 110 mph. There were widespread power outages across several of the islands and very few structures had flashlights or candles, let alone backup generators.

Ignoring the timeline of their careers in terms of specific years because it doesn't make sense to begin with, I'm picturing Iceman, Cougar, Goose, and Slider at the Academy or Flight School having just seen the news of the hurricane on the TV in a common space. Ice is in total shock because he and many others he grew up with all believed the islands couldn't be touched by hurricanes. There certainly hadn't been any hurricanes while he'd lived there and there hadn’t been any ever longer before then. Hawai'i was the one place that felt like home and Ice was watching his home be destroyed by Hurricane Iwa.

He decided right then and there that he had to do something, and because all of staff liked him he was able to get the day before Thanksgiving off. But his friends knew that Hawai’i was important to him, maybe not aware of just how important but they knew it was the only place he talked about fondly, the only place he’d share memories and stories from with a smile.

He never asked for them to come with him and miss their own Thanksgivings but they had hearts of gold. Nick volunteered first, his caring soul had seemingly infinite amount of kindness and compassion for helping others. Bill and Tom were close, like brothers, so of course Bill was going to go with. And Ron shared a bond with Tom, knowing how important it was to have a stable home.

And so they all flew out to the west coast and caught a ride to the island on a seaplane Tom’s friend typically used to fly around tourists but was now using to bring much needed supplies to those who need it. It now made sense why Tom had experience flying seaplanes. They met up with some of his old friends and helped out where they could, reuniting people who had been separated from their loved ones, delivering supplies, etc.

They couldn’t fix everything in those couple of days, the residents would be clearing debris for months following, but Tom would never forget all that they had done for him that week. And despite the devastating nature of the event, that Thanksgiving would go down as one of Tom’s favorites, surrounded by friends and friends he considered closer than family.

[tacticalprincess]

when are we getting perv!reader who really just needs a good pounding and nerd!Konig who couldnt care less about pussy and just wants to talk about his silly little guns :(

canonically accurate nerd!könig… being so excited about getting the invite to his house, under the assumption that you’re finally going to be railed into the mattress until you can’t walk by the behemoth of a man you’ve been fantasizing about every night. to be pinned down by the biceps you’ve creamed around your fingers thinking about at long last.

you’re about to pull your top off, only for him to cut you off by opening the latch to the display case for his guns, ready to walk you through his impressive collection in way too much detail. he’s just happy to have a willing audience to pour all his lonely years of stored up knowledge into, oblivious to the way you aren’t soaking any of it up, fidgeting helplessly from your place on his bed as frustration and white-hot need fuzzes around your nerves. you’ve long since stopped contributing to the conversation; pretending that your eyes aren’t honed in on the way his large hands work expertly around the weapon, and the sizable bulge between his hairy, thick thighs was a mission that was quickly abandoned. he isn’t even hard, yet he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the fact that he isn’t letting you put it to use is infuriating :(

you’re too cock starved to do anything but blurt out the truth when he asks why you’re being so touchy, trying to convince him that you’d be a much more attentive listener if you had a stuffed mouth. and he reluctantly obliges once the faux tears start flowing from your pretty eyes, too polite to turn down such a distressed girl in need. he takes pity on you, ridding himself of his belt and feeding you his soft dick as an apology. if you’re nice and quiet, he’ll let you fuck yourself to exhaustion on his length just so he can go back to his rambling while you’re too sated to do anything but listen… it’s not the most appropriate teaching strategy, but he has to get you to pay attention somehow!

[sailorrhansol]

Chat, is that Rizz? | j.ww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to  get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

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[simplyundeniable98]

I need you now *Bradley Bradshaw*

Pairing - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!reader

Warnings - angst angst angst, arguing, explicit language, Reader has a hard time expressing her emotions, yearning, smutttttttt, mdni or so help me, makeup sex ofc, breeding kink 😏, Bradley LOVES his wife, lots of petnames, brief mention of pregnancy (rooster is so dad sue me), talk of death, mentions of the uranium mission, this timeline isn’t the most accurate, prob some incorrect navy talk, also bradley’s a captain in this instead of a lieutenant commander because captain just rolls off the tongue a little better yk.

Word Count - 5.2k

-This is LOOSELY based around the song "I need you now" by Lady Antebellum.

First Rooster fic, kinda nervous.

Mornings in the Bradshaw house when he was home were your favorite part of the day. Nothing beat waking up next to Bradley clinging to you like a koala. All six foot and then some clinging to every inch of skin that was left uncovered.

Usually, you were woken up to kisses being pressed to every surface he could reach. Your body was his canvas and he vowed to not let any of it stay untouched. The course hairs of his mustache raking across your soft skin rousing you from your slumber. Sleepy smiles and tender touches shared in the intimate moments of the morning before having to begrudgingly start the days activities.

This morning had been different. Bradley had gotten a call in the early spouts of the morning for an emergency briefing that had him rushing out of bed and onto base with nothing other then a note that read

"Be back later, love you sweetheart"- Roo

The bed was cold. That was the first thing you noticed as you blinked awake. Your human heater was nowhere to be found and tender kisses had yet to be given.

The note on the counter had etched a frown on your face the moment you picked it up. Bradley had gotten back from a three month deployment only four weeks ago and you missed him. God you missed him.

Although he had been home for four weeks your time with him still felt limited. He was so busy now that he had jumped rank and started as an instructor back at Top Gun. The added stress of making sure his pilots were safe in the air as well as himself had taken a toll on your husband.

Bradley loved you. You knew that. The picture of the two of you at your wedding had stayed put in the cockpit of his plane. The now frayed edges of the picture from being stashed in his helmet, clutched in nervous palms, and pinned to the instrument panel of his cockpit were a constant reminder that he had you to come home to.

You were his life. You were his sun. The force of gravity pulling him towards you had never faltered. His love for you ran deep in his bones and had since the first day he saw you.

But he is only human. And as expected, he makes mistakes. He forgets to kiss you before he leaves in a hurry. He forgets to do the sink of dishes that you had asked him to do two days ago. He is passionate and feels so much all at once. His determination and dedication to his career is a quality you love about Bradley. His commitment to the Navy was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place.

"Bradley you just got back, tell me you are joking" You say exasperated as you throw your head back.

Bradley had been ordered an emergency deployment for tomorrow morning. It was non-negotiable. Uncle Sam doesnt like to wait and you knew that. It didnt make things easier of course.

"Im sorry honey. Its an important mission and Warlock doesnt trust anyone else to do it." His voice was quiet yet so loud in the silence of your living room.

You could feel the tears start to burn your eyelids. The deep ache in your chest that always manifested when he had to leave like this. You just got him back.

"I never get to see you anymore Roo. I feel like im living on borrowed time." Your voice was starting to raise an octave. The emotions you were feeling were quickly transpiring into anger despite feeling the exact opposite.

" Im alone!" You threw your hand up in the air " I know its your career and I love you for how passionate you are about your career but this is ridiculous." You were yelling now.

Bradley shook his head and raised his palms to cover his eyes.

"Baby please not tonight." He sounded stressed. This was the last thing he wanted the night before he left. He was set to be gone for 3 weeks.

"Then when Bradley? Because its getting old. Im tired of having to love you from afar." You were crying now. A steady stream of tears now running down your face that set alarms off in Bradleys head. You were crying because of him. His girl.

"Sweetheart its three weeks, its not that big of a deal" He closed in on you grabbing your face between two calloused palms. The rough pads of his thumbs carelessly wiping away calculated tears in their path.

You scoffed and step out of his hold shrugging him off. You ignored the pang in your chest as his face dropped slightly.

"Babe seriously calm down" He was starting to get frustrated now. When he got the news earlier today he had expected the night to go a completely different direction.

He wanted to press you into the sheets and draw out those pretty noises he loves. He wanted to show you how much he loved you. Give you a proper goodbye before he was out on boat in the middle of the pacific.

"Calm down? Dont tell me to calm down Bradley. I cant do this" You were overreacting now. You could feel it. You were in too deep. The worry you felt in your chest had blossomed into something ugly and it was too late to back down now.

"Cant do what? This is ridiculous honey can we please just go to bed." His voice was raised now. The temper the two of you had shared was rearing its ugly head as you teeter on saying things you know you both dont mean.

"I need time Bradley." and that was the truth. You needed time to understand the emotions that were rushing through your body. You had finally got him back. Your Bradley. And now he was being shipped off again except this was another dangerous mission.The close call from the uranium mission had planted something ugly deep inside you. There was a chance you weren’t getting him back this time.Your Bradley. Just the thought had the blood rushing to your skull and your vision going blurry.

He was the love of your life. Losing him was out of the question. You had gotten so lucky when he came back in one piece on that F-14. How could you ever live peacefully knowing that the luck may not find him again?

"Time? You need time? I hate to break it to you but thats all your about to have." Bradley winced as soon as it left his mouth. He didnt mean to sound so mean. He knows exactly whats going on in that pretty little head of yours.

He knows you. His girl. He knows that the anger you’re feeling comes from a place of love and worry for him. Knowing it however doesn't ease the irritation thats starting to pool at the base of his spine.

You let out a sound thats halfway a laugh and halfway a sob as you tread towards your shared bedroom. How did the night end like this? How did you manage to let your emotions take over and ruin the last night you will have together in a month.

Bradley followed behind you as he leaned against the doorframe to watch you slam open his drawers in a haste. You may be mad at him but hes still your husband that you love endlessly, you had always helped him pack and nothing would change tonight.

He would give you your space. If thats what you needed then thats what youll get. If you asked Bradley to jump he would ask how high. Thats just how he was.

The two of you silently worked your way through the bedroom getting together everything he would need in his three weeks away. You were too stubborn to back down and Bradley knew you well enough to know to let you work it out on your own.

You had always been supportive of his career. There was never a moment where you thought that your husband being a naval aviator was anything less then a blessing. You were only human. You have human emotions and worries. It just so happens that you have a hard time regulating those emotions into words. Even though you hadnt comprehended it yet, this argument truly did stem from a place of love.

Bradley was your bestfriend. Being away from him on its own set your heart on fire and the added anxiety of knowing he could be in danger set your emotions into overdrive.

The two of you still had not said a word as you mindlessly got ready for bed and slipped under the covers. He said nothing as he pulled you to his chest and buried his face into your hair.

You said nothing as the tears you had been holding back finally fell as he handled you with so much tenderness. He was always so gentle with you. Even after you blew up on him about something you know he cannot help.

You fell in love with an aviator pilot. Deployments were part of the contract. In the six years that you had been with Bradley he had been deployed seven times. You were by no means a stranger to the game. It just felt different now. He had barely come back last time.

He pressed tender kisses to the top of your hair as you drifted off in his arms. Careful whispers of apologies and praise spoken into the silence of your shared bedroom because he would never understand what it would be like to be in your shoes. It would crush him if he knew you were in danger and away for weeks at a time.

Bradley had given you everything. He had given you every ounce of love he could possibly manage. He had given you every ounce of his attention that wasnt directed towards his career. But more importantly Bradley had given you grace. You were human. And it was times like these that he had learned to love the flaws you carried.

The hurt and fear that transpired into anger tonight was only an indication that you loved him. Your clipped words and hushed tears were only an indication that you worried for him. So yes, he would give you time. He would give you all the time in the world if that what you needed. His girl.

Bradley had slipped out that morning with a kiss on your head goodbye and a whisper of an I love you before he headed to the docks. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to turn around and crawl back into bed and kiss your worries away. His heart was heavy as he stood on the deck watching the boat pull farther away from the dock.

-

The days without Bradley home seemed to be even harder this go around. Maybe it was the fact that he had little to no service this time or maybe it was the disruption you had caused before you left.

You hadnt been able to call him. There wasnt much service in the middle of the ocean anyways but Bradley had been working almost every second that he was there.

Rooster was worked to the bone. When it wasn’t one thing it was another. Every second he was in the air his mind was on you. Every close call the only thing he saw was your face. Every time his fist slammed down on the red button to his left he heard your sweet voice telling him you loved him. He couldn’t wait until he could hear it again.

The photobook weighed heavy in your hands as you sat down on your bed. This had become routine now. Looking at photos and memories helped ease the ache of him not being home.

You smiled to yourself after turning the first page. It was a picture of you and Bradley not long after you had met. He had just finished his second year at topgun and the two of you were at another aviators new year’s eve party.

The pictured had captured you leaning your head back as Bradley held the shooter of tequila between his teeth to pour into your open mouth. His hand cradled the back of your head supporting you from falling.

You turned the page again and this time the picture was much sweeter. You sat perched on Roosters lap as he sat on the piano bench at the Hard Deck. The veins in his neck were prominent as he sang and your head was tilted back in a laugh.

You sucked in a deep breath closing the book. You turned to look at the clock that resided on Bradleys bedside table. A quarter after one. It was rounding about evening time for Rooster right now as you debated calling him. There was a chance he was too busy to answer. You wanted to hear his voice so bad. You chewed your thumbnail as you stared at the phone laying in front of you.

You huffed and reached for it unable to fight it any longer. You hastily pressed his contact and nervously brought the phone to your ear.

Every ring of the phone felt like a stab in the chest. What if he didnt want to talk to you? What if he finally decided that he had had enough?

"Hey sweetheart" His gravely voice rang through your speaker effectively causing all of your worries to cease.

"Bradley" You gasped in relief. Relief that he was okay. That he wanted to talk to you.

"Baby" He cooed. You could feel the adoration through the phone. You could cry.

"I need you Roo. Im all alone and I need you now" You were crying now. Rushed gasps of breath and choked sobs that you fought to keep down.

"Take a deep breath honey. I know, I know." Bradley fought to keep the hurt from showing through his voice but it was nearly impossible when you sound so desperate for him.

"Im so sorry Bradley. I was so mean. I didnt-" You fought for a breath as you try to calm yourself.

"I didnt mean it. I was just so worried about you and I miss you so much all the time." You cry to him. Hearing his voice opened the floodgates and this next week until he came home couldnt come faster.

"I know baby. Its okay, I know." He cleared his throat pushing back tears that were fighting to surface. "I love you. I love everything that comes with you. Im not mad honey, I miss you" He reassured you. Just like he always did. Your Bradley.

"Tell me about your week honey" He spoke softly. Bradley always had a way of making everything better. All of your worries and doubts simply melted away at the hands of your husband.

-

The west coast sun had done nothing to ease your nerves as it blared down onto the smooth stretch of concrete that held hundreds of families and spouses eagerly waiting for their loved one to return.

He was coming home today. After three weeks of waiting, today was the day. Realistically you knew that this deployment was one of the easier ones. You and Rooster had been separated for six months at a time, so what’s three weeks?

The pale blue sundress you were wearing (with the knowledge that it was Bradley’s favorite of course) helped to ease the feeling of being suffocated in the California heat. Your insides were practically buzzing. You couldn’t wait to get ahold of him. The past week was spent with limited phone calls and promises whispered into the other end of the phone.

The sound of clapping startled you out of your thoughts as you looked towards the water from inside the car. The carrier was barely in view as it inched toward the dock

At the sight of the carrier, you put Bradley’s bronco in park, locked it up and made your way closer. After all this time, Rooster always knew how to find you through the crowd.

It took awhile to find him in the sea of flight suits and reuniting families but when you did he was unmistakable. His long legs carried him quicker and he reached you in about 4 strides.

Wasting no time you threw yourself at him. His bag dropped to the ground to catch you and he didn’t even budge from the force of your weight. He inhaled a sharp breath now that he finally had you back in his arms.

Bradley had missed you. The argument the two of you left on weighed heavy on his mind. Countless nights spent on his navy issued mattress worried about you. What if you didn’t want to be with him anymore? What if the time away made you realize you deserve more?

You turned your head to press kisses against his warm cheek. Bradley was sunkissed before but after being against the pacific for weeks he was especially tan.

“I missed you so much” and you did. More than he could imagine.

Bradley could barely keep his hands off you as you walked to the bronco. They were everywhere he could reach. You were far from complaining though, you could barely keep your hands from lingering as well.

Rooster pressed a kiss to your lips before opening the passenger door for you before getting into the drivers seat himself.

He hummed and tapped the steering wheel before settling in with his hand on your thigh.

The ten minute drive to yours and Bradleys shared condo had never felt farther as his hand drug up and down your exposed thigh. Your skin felt like it was on fire as you drug your fingertips up and down his forearm that was reached out towards you.

Energy was buzzing through the both of you. Unsaid words and hushed promises were transpiring into so much more. The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Bradley said nothing as he pulled onto the street you lived on. He missed this. His neighbors tire swing hanging from the oak that hes pretty sure has been there since before he was born. Your throughly decorated porch covered in flowers and the porch swing he made you two summer's ago.

"Cmere" He mumbled after the car was in park. In seconds his strong hands were grabbing and pulling you onto his lap. His hands were on you immedietly. Both of them coming to rest on top of your thighs.

You immedietly feel at home on his lap. That peice of you that felt missing had found home when you wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring the two of you impossibly closer.

His lips were on yours in an instant and immediately you felt like you could breathe again. His kiss was gentle and unforgiving all at the same time. It was almost difficult to keep up.

Noticing your reaction he couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. He always knew exactly how to play his cards. Every spot and trick to make you putty in his hands. He grabbed at your thighs and pulled you towards him.

The rough bulge of his flight suit was rubbing you oh so deliciously and if he wasn’t careful the two of you were going to get a public indecency charge here soon if you didn’t move from the driveway.

Reluctantly, you pulled away. Still cautious of the steering wheel pressing against your spine you climbed off of him. The last thing you needed was to honk the horn and alert the neighbors of yours and Bradley’s less then decent escapades.

-

Fuck. You missed him.

He pushed you onto the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with that wide grin you love so much plastered to his face.

His lips began trailing down your abdomen sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he reached behind you to untie the bow that sat in the middle of your back, sitting up as he pulled it off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth finally found you. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed out on for the last three and a half weeks.

“God, I missed you so much honey. Fuck”

His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry left you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your husband’s thick fingers pushed inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay. He cooed at you pressing a kiss to your thigh before returning to the task at hand. The smirk on his face told you that his sympathy was anything but.

Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Crying out, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled hard at the brown curls that resided on the top of his head. You were pulling so hard you could have swore it was hurting him. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers. Your ears were ringing and you could feel your heartbeat everywhere.

He kissed the skin of your stomach as he slowly fucked you through your high, breathy praises leaving his lips as he stared up at you. “Good girl,” he murmured, placing an open mouthed kiss to your ribcage before hovering back over you. “So pretty honey”.

You moan against his mouth when he kisses you hard, his mustache pricking the skin above your upper lip in the best way. “Bradley, please,” you beg against his lips. “Please, fuck me. I need it. I miss you.”

The groan he let out shot straight to your core as pulls away to unzip his flight suit. He practically throws it to the floor along with the rest of his clothes before he’s back on top of you pressing in between your spread thighs, his mouth is pressing open mouthed kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders leaving goosebumps in his wake. “I need it, too,” he confessed, settling in between your legs and pushing his tip to slide against your swollen clit. “I need you all the time. Think about you every second i’m gone baby”

Your lips were puffy as his met them in a searing kiss before slipping inside you with a sharp thrust. Moaning against his mouth, you wrap your legs tightly around him digging your heels into the base of his spine and grip either side of his ribcage to pull him impossible closer to you.

He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t fucking you quick and hard like you usually liked it. He was taking his time,pushing into you with such passion it left you breathless, aching for more but feeling overwhelmed all at the same time. He was loving on you in all the ways he could have been , should have been the last three weeks. Hell, in the last four months. He had taken this for granted.

Your velvety walls noisily suck him in deeper with each deep thrust he gives you, your previous orgasm providing him with all he needed to fuck into you hard and slow. The noises the two of you had come together to make were border lining pornographic.

Bradley’s eyes make their way downwards so he can watch the way your pussy sucked in his cock every time his hips met yours. “Fuck, look at you,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Taking me so well baby, aren’t you?”

“I love you. Fuck Bradley I love you” You finally manage to gasp out. Bradley fucked you good every time but you were damn near speechless as you rocked into you. He wasn’t just fucking you this time. No he was making love to you. He was showing you just how much he loves you with every piston of his hips into yours. Every glide of his cock against your greedy walls was a promise.

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to hold back for him. You knew you were close already. It was dancing around the borders of your perception, melting in your blood, burning in your gut, and you could feel it, had been feeling it.

"God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much." Bradley was babbling now as he pressed his swollen lips to yours.

"Missed you too, Bradley. So much", you moaned against his lips, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, baby, you are", he groaned. "So good for me. Perfect. My girl."

“Bradley god-“ you gasped out. White was starting to flood your vision with each slow drag of his cock against your velvety walls. His cock grazed past that spongy part of you and he knew he found what he was looking for when you gasped and clenched down on him.

“I’m so close don’t stop” You whined high and breathy. There it was. Those pretty noises Bradley loved so much.

“Yeah? Me too baby.” He finished his sentence with another sharp thrust. “Gonna fill you up hmm?”

His pace never faltered “Gonna get you pregnant. Give you a baby to keep you company while i’m away. Is that what you want pretty girl?”

“Yes. God yes.” His words making you tip over the edge. You felt like you were on fire as a breathless pleasepleaseplease tumbled out of your gasping lips.

Bradley’s hips stuttered as you clenched down on him. Your pussy was gripping him like a vice. He was a vision with his head thrown back and mouth hung open in a guttural groan.

“Fuck” He rasped as he painted your insides keeping himself in the deepest part of you.

You winced as he slowly pulled out, not letting any of it go to waste. He was serious about his promise. There was nothing he wanted more than seeing you carry his baby. Bradley pressed chaste kisses along your neck before reaching your lips and pressing one there.

The slow drag of his tongue along yours had you whimpering before he got up to fetch a towel leaving you absolutely spent and tangled in the sheets.

He was gentle as he carefully wiped you down before pressing a kiss to the spot above your pubic bone. He quickly got comfortable and pulled you close tangling your legs together.

“I love you” He hummed into your hair pressing kisses to the top of your head. You smiled and pressed yourself closer to him.

“I love you Bradley” You replied before putting distance between the two of you to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted” You truly were. Your emotions got the best of you and instead of talking about it, you took it out on him. Your Bradley. He was the last person you should worry about not understanding. He always treated you with so much respect. So much tenderness.

“I think I just got overwhelmed. Usually it doesn’t bother me but this time with your deployments so close together and after what had happened to you…I didn’t know how to react” Your voice was quiet as you finally let him in. It’s what you should have done a long time ago.

“Honey, why didn’t you tell me?” Bradley questioned. You were his girl. You were supposed to be able to tell him anything.

“I didn’t want you to be worried.” You glanced up at him shyly with a small smile on your face. “You’ve just got so much going on at work and the last thing I want is for you to think I don’t support you. Because I do. I really do” You place a kiss to his lips.

“I love that you are so passionate about your job and i trust your abilities as a pilot to come home to me. It’s just that sometimes I get worried you won’t come home from something that you can’t control.” There were tears streaming down your face now that Bradley was steadily wiping away.

“After that uranium mission, it’s just been different ya know?” You sniffled as Bradley nodded along.

“It made it so much more real. The thought of you not coming home…” You paused squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling sharply.

“Baby…” Bradley cooed. He propped himself up on his elbow to look down at you and brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

“I can’t promise you I’m gonna come home every time” He wiped away the tears that fell at his words.

“But I can promise you I’m gonna fight like hell to come back to you every time.” He pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I can promise you that every time i’m in the air, I’m thinking of you.” You let out another choked sob at his confession and he silenced you with another kiss.

“I need you to tell me when you feel like this baby. So i can be there for you. I don’t know what it’s like to be you honey but I can sure as hell do my best to make it better.” God he was perfect. You truly believed Bradley Bradshaw was sent down from the angels himself. You silently thanked Carol in Heaven for her god sent parenting.

“I love you.” You finally spoke after some time. You pressed a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, and another one to the scar that went across his neck, making your way up to the one that adorned his cheek, and finally one to his kiss swollen lips.

“So you’re tryna knock me up huh?” You questioned with a laugh lightening the mood. You felt Bradley twitch against your thigh as he groaned and pressed his face in your neck.

“Yeah but i’m not sure this one stuck, I think I need to try again.” You giggled as he rolled on top of you making it hard to breathe as you support his weight.

“I think you’re right Captain, let’s try again for good measures”

[kryptonitejelly]

Grease & Tequila - a Flyboy One-shot

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader - part of the Flyboy!Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers

Warnings:  general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; alcohol; being drunk.

Length: One-shot

Summary: Set 5 months pre the Flyboy!era. The one where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and he has to be on the next plane to New York, now.

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(not fully updated as of today, but if you follow / search the tag “flyboy universe” / “flyboy” / “flyboy fic” / “flyboy!jake” on my tumblr you’ll find recent asks / headcannons / blurbs!)

A/N: It’s been a while, and this isn’t all that exciting, but I think it definitely (I hope) sets the scene for Flyboy and helps everything click into place.

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Craig’s voice booms out as Jake opens the door to his office. The Admiral waits for Jake to shut the door completely before he starts up again, “I got your last minute absence request.”

“That is correct, Sir,” Jake nods, as he comes to a stand in front of the Admiral’s desk. He stands with his feet hip width apart, hands behind his back, eyes meeting the older man’s.

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

-

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

-

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

-

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

-

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

-

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

-

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

-

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

-

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” is all Jake can say as he settle back into the seat of the cab, his mind far away, his heart still with you.

[lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer]

Haunted

“You remind me of a man I used to know.”  

I was watching the embers in the fire die, and the thought just came, out loud. The Ghoul chewed an unknown meat off the stick he’d skewered it on, not looking up to dignify my statement with even so much as a grunt. Maybe not then, I thought sadly. Maybe all the men like Cooper had died when the bombs dropped. I certainly hadn’t met a man like him since we’d said goodbye to each other at that party. Still, I continued.  

“He was a lot friendlier than you – though I suppose actors are predisposed to high levels of charisma.” I smiled to myself from behind the handkerchief covering my face, thinking of how simple the past now seemed in comparison to the present.  

“Actor?” It was first word I’d heard him speak since he told me to put out the fire that had cooked our dinner and it brought me from my daydream of my old life.  

“Yeah, actor. One of the good ones, most of the time anyway.” I chuckled to myself, remembering the tantrums he used to have on set if something wasn’t entirely accurate.  

“How would you have known an actor?”  

“Well, if you must know, I was-”   

I was cut off by a knife flying past my face and narrowly missing my eye, and then there was a body on top of mine, all flailing limbs and trying to stab me, grabbing a hold of my neck and head to hold me down. I grabbed the pocket knife hidden in my coat and wounded my attacker, before rolling the both of us over and pushing his face into the dying ashes. Their screams echoed out against the darkness of the wasteland, and I heard several gunshots. I took my pistol from my belt and shot whoever had tried to jump me in the back of his skull, letting him fall limply beside me.  

I look up through the dying light to see the Ghoul surveying our surroundings, before looking down at me and I realised with horror I didn’t have the handkerchief covering my face anymore.  

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rosie Ryder,” he let out an audible laugh, “What are you doin’ out in the Wasteland?”  

My face went bright red, and I huffed.  

“Even after the apocalypse, people still just know me as the girl who played the hooker that got her titties out for Cooper Howard,” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I’ve done other movies, you know.”  

“Yeah, you were great in Under the Covers,” he chuckled again, “although for you that film must have mostly been about shooting all that kissin’ you did to the poor bloke. I bet his lips were chapped at the end of every day!”  

“You a fan of Cooper Howard?” I asked, looking him up and down, “this get-up of yours seems pretty inspired by his work.”  

“You could say that, Little Miss Ryder.”  

I laughed bitterly and gestured down at the three bodies around us.  

“We should probably find somewhere else to sleep tonight, in case anyone heard the gunshots.”  

I checked the pockets of the bodies but couldn’t find anything other than a couple of caps and a gun with some ammo still left in it.  

“No chems?” he asked, and I shook my head.  

“No chems.”  

*** 

As we continued in our direction, the Ghoul became more talkative.  

“So, if you were Little Miss Rosie Ryder, you must be at least two hundred and something years old,” he began, “So how are you here right now?” 

I shrugged.  

“It’s a long, long story. We don’t got that much time, Ghoulie.”  

Eventually we came across a shabby-looking shack that looked just about safe enough for the night and might potentially keep us safe from any radstorm that might decide to descend onto us. And maybe from any raiders, too.  

The Ghoul went in first, checking the inside whilst I set a bear trap up in front of the door, before following him inside. It seemed as if someone might have been living here for a bit – there was a sofa and a little table, as well as a small counter with what looked like to be a broken-down hob. No signs of life anymore, though. Everything had a thick layer of dust coating it, and any essentials seem to have been hastily removed when the last occupier had left. 

“The walls seem pretty sturdy and the roof’s secure,” he said, “did you put a bear trap outside the door?”  

“Yeah, don’t wanna take the risk we did earlier.” I sighed. “Still, can’t help but think we’re still sitting ducks if someone breaks in. We’re not exactly in the safest area – I know at least two Raider groups who have bases nearby.” 

“They’ll break in and come face to face with my pistol aimed at their skulls, sweetheart.”  

“Oh, I’m ‘sweetheart’ now, am I? Now that you know what I look like under all these clothes?”  

The Ghoul stepped closer to me, the shadow of his hat towering over me.  

“Maybe I jus’ appreciate those actin’ skills of yours,” he murmured, “on top of that fine figure.” He stepped back from me and sat down on the sofa, slouching.  

“I’ll take first watch, Little Miss Rosie. I’ll wake you in a few hours and when the light comes, we’ll continue, and you can tell me that long, long story of yours.”  

*** 

Susie Wellington was coiffuring my hair for my first scene, as I sat tugging on my cotton skirt trying to psyche myself up for the scene ahead. We’d rehearsed it a bunch of times in table reads but this was the real thing – closed set and all.  

“Susie, I think the leading lady’s hair’s done up enough for now,” came a voice from the corner, “and you should be making your way back to the dressing rooms. I’m sure Little Miss Rosie Ryder here doesn’t want another cast member staring at her tits.”  

I looked up in relief as Cooper appeared beside us, cigarette in hand. Susie didn’t look to happy about having to leave her creation as it was, but only pursed her lips and bid me goodbye.  

“You excited for your first scene, Little Miss Rosie?” he asked, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu come over me at his words. I ignored it and put a shaky smile on my face.  

“I’m excited to get the nudity outta the way, that’s all I’m gonna say!” I giggled a bit, and he laughed alongside me.  

“Well, there’ll be a barrier in place of everythin’ and that dress of yours ain’t comin’ off completely. Gotta keep them perverts on their toes.” He winked at me, and I tried to keep the smile on my face, but under it all, I felt as if this was very dangerous.  

As he kissed me softly in front of the cameras and rolled his eyes playfully as the director asked him to push my dress up to show more of my skin, I felt something lurking in the shadows. Once this was shot, there was no going back and for some reason, I felt completely doomed.  

*** 

I woke up with a start, flinging my body forward. From the sofa, the Ghoul shushed me, holding a gloved finger over my mouth.  

I could hear something outside, and I assumed that was what woke me up. It was a strange sound, of someone dragging their feet through the dirt and the mud. We sat there in silence for a full half an hour, until the dragging sound moved away from the hut and back out into the darkness.  

“You mind takin’ the next watch, Sweetheart?” he said, “I need to get a couple hours kip in before we set off tomorrow.”  

“Sure,” I say tentatively, pulling out my pistol. “I’m glad you finally trust me.”  

“Well, I’m a huge fan.” He laid heavy emphasis on the ‘huge’, winking at me through the dusk light. I rolled my eyes, but inside I felt a little proud for some stupid goddamn reason.  

Back when I started acting, I didn’t think I’d have any living fans – never mind a half-dead irradiated man from 200 years in the future. Is he half-dead? It’d never been explained to me at the brothel – I’d just done my service and taken the RadAway. None of the others had ever stuck around to tell me their life story.  

We switched places, I sat myself down on the sofa and the Ghoul lay down on the bedroll on the floor.  

“Damn, this shit is fuckin’ uncomfortable.” I heard him say, and I let out a laugh under my bed.  

“I didn’t complain,” I whispered, and he made a grunting noise. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult or not, but I just chuckled quietly and pulled out my pistol, aimed at the door ready for anyone who tried to force their way through.  

The sun rose quickly after that, and by the light of the sky, I was able to get a better look at the Ghoul’s sleeping face. There was something so familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I decided it was the cowboy look – it reminded me of the niche I’d almost fallen into after my three-month contract with Cooper’s team. The audience had loved our chemistry on screen in The Man from Calabasas, and the studios knew they’d get a lot more money if we came as a package deal – so we shot Under the Covers, City of Starlight and Valley of the Gun together. It took me back to the last film I’d shot, the one I hadn’t finished shooting.  

I looked down at my clothes – the same clothes I’d been wearing 200 years ago on set. The ‘Western Hooker’ dress, of which there had originally been five different versions. The hat, which I’d stolen from my co-worker as a joke, but had still been on my head when we’d been told to start running. For a moment, I could still smell the food that they’d made us on set. I could still smell the horse manure, and the flashing of lights.  

I looked back at the Ghoul, awake now, and almost came to a realisation.

Part 2

[skepwith]

More Parts of the Revenge for OFMD Fans

Part of a series: Revenge Master Post.

This post is about stuff in the body of the ship, going more or less from top to bottom. I’m saving the sails and rigging for my next post. If you want to know more basic terms like fore and aft and bow and stern, look for “Parts of the Revenge” in my master post.

Obviously, using these terms is entirely optional, since David Jenkins et al. are free and easy with the ol' historical accuracy. This list is for pedants like me and people who like historical and specialized language. Enjoy!

Main Deck

The low “walls” on the sides of the open decks were called the bulwarks—they were to keep people from falling overboard. On the Revenge, the bulwarks are topped by a rail (railing).

A gap in the bulwark, together with a set of rungs on the hull, was called an entry port. It allowed people to climb aboard from a dinghy.

The top edge of the bulwark was the gunwale, pronounced gunnel. The expression “loaded to the gunwales” is still used to mean very full. The top edges of a dinghy are also called gunwales.

An opening in the deck is called a hatchway. I wrote about hatches a while ago, but what I didn’t realize was that the hatch is the part that covers the hatchway. The wooden grid that lets light and air through is called the grating.

In the bow, the curving rail that goes from the figurehead to the hull is called the head rail, which would’ve been really helpful to know for my toilet post. Oh well.

Stede’s journal could at a stretch be called a logbook (or log). This was a book in which an officer noted details of the ship’s daily progress and journey. Probably a bit less fanciful than Stede’s version.

Weaponry

The Revenge has guns (the word used for cannons) on her main deck and her gun deck. Before a gun was fired, the barrel was cleared with the sponge, then loaded with gunpowder and shot and wads of cloth, all of which was tamped down with the rammer. There were different types of shot, or ammunition; cannonballs were called round shot.

To fire a gun, a lit fuse (usually a slow match) was brought in contact with the vent at the top of the gun—called the touchhole—to ignite the gunpowder. (The wick added in OFMD isn’t accurate. Shocking, I know.) The slow match was usually held with a staff called a linstock, tucked into a notch on the end. You didn’t want to be right next to the cannon when it went off, because there was a non-zero chance it would misfire and explode in your face.

Despite what you see in movies, cannons didn’t produce a lot of fire and smoke; the cannonball did damage by going unstoppably through hulls, masts, and people—often many at a time—like a deadly Energizer bunny.

The gunpowder was kept in kegs in a small room called the powder magazine. (A magazine is an ammunition storage area.) This room was in the hull of the ship, below the water line, to minimize the chances of a stray spark sending the whole ship up in flames. The shot was kept in the shot-locker, a small room in the hold (though this word wasn’t recorded till 1805). As we know, Stede calls this the ball room.

Besides the regular cannons, the Revenge also has swivel guns, small cannons mounted on swivels. These were too small to damage another ship; they were there to fire at boarders and approaching boats. Or, you know, to set off fireworks.

To take an enemy ship, sailors might use a grapnel (or grappling hook). These were attached to a rope and thrown at enemy bulwarks or rigging so the ships could be pulled together for boarding.

The Gun Deck

Everything on a ship had to have a special name: stairs were always called ladders; the floor was called the deck; and a wall or partition inside the hull was called a bulkhead.

Some of you may know that a ship’s kitchen is called a galley. However, this usage wasn’t recorded until 1750; the earlier word was cook-room.

Likewise, the mess is where you eat on a ship, but this sense wasn’t recorded until the late 1800s. In OFMD’s time, mess meant “a group of people who eat together,” like officers of the same rank or sailors on the same watch.

You might know a berth as a shelf or box to sleep on, like Stede’s (and Ed’s) bed, but this usage wasn’t recorded until the 1790s. The earlier meaning, used from at least 1706, is “a room where a particular group (such as officers or midshipmen) eats and sleeps.” So you might call Jim’s room a berth—except that it changes hands, and its name has been firmly established as the Room.

A berth is also a place in a port or harbour where you can moor (park) a vessel, and thirdly, the safety margin around another vessel or object, which gives us the phrase “to give [it] a wide berth.”

Finally, the area where the animals (remember them?) were kept was a small triangular area in the bow called the manger. This seems to be where the Revenge’s en suite is, at least as far as I can figure, but if you want to include the animals for whatever reason, they’d probably live somewhere around there.

Storage

Some of the stuff on board was stored in casks, a.k.a. barrels. These could be any size, but a large cask was also called a butt. A scuttlebutt was a butt full of water attached to the deck for sailors to drink from. Unfortunately, the word wasn’t recorded before 1800, and the “gossip” meaning not till a century after that. But it’s a great word and you should use it anyway.

A keg was a small cask, usually less than ten gallons, used for things like gunpowder or rum.

A sea chest was a wooden box used to store an officer’s personal effects—or to confine a nosy hombrecito.

The Ship’s Bottom

(As it were.)

In several of my posts and diagrams I said the lower decks of the Revenge were the gun deck, the orlop, and the hold. But my friends, I made a grievous error: the Revenge has no orlop. I know!

In season 2, for the first time we get to see what’s below the gun deck. When Frenchie opens the secret passage in the kitchen, he reveals a set of stairs—sorry, a ladder—down to a grim, damp space. The kitchen is on the gun deck, so this is the deck immediately below it, and while on most ships that would’ve been the orlop, in this case it’s the hold.

The hold was the lowest compartment of the ship, used for storage and cargo. It also sometimes held the ballast—heavy stuff (e.g., pig iron, gravel, stones, lead) put there to improve the ship’s balance. The lowest part of the hold itself was called the bilge or bilges—the area where bilgewater collected and had to be pumped out.

Episode 3 shows the water on the floor—sorry, deck—making it pretty clear we’re in the bilges of the hold. On top of that, an Instagram post by crewmember Will Giles (shared on Tumblr by @ourflagmeansbts) mentioned repurposing the “bilge set.”

Which all proves that the Revenge’s hold is immediately below the gun deck, with no orlop in between.

The keel is the structural piece that runs lengthwise along the middle of the hull’s bottom. Keel-hauling was to drag someone along the outside of the keel, underwater, as a punishment—very nasty, often fatal.

Also underwater, at the stern, is the rudder, whose movement makes the ship turn. On a dinghy you steer by moving the tiller, a horizontal bar attached to the rudder post. On a ship like the Revenge, you turn the ship’s wheel, which is attached to the tiller via cables, and that moves the rudder.

That’s all for now! Coming next: sails and rigging, in port, and more sailing lingo.

Sources: Wikipedia, historicnavalfiction [dot] com, Oxford English Dictionary

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

The longest hour

Sherlock isn’t perceived as a patient man by most people. What most people has failed to observe, is the fact that when the need for patience is there, Sherlock Holmes is more persistent than most. Just think of all the meticulous experiments he performs, how he’s catalogued 243 different types of tobacco ash, the building of his Mind Palace, which, by the way, is still an ongoing project. 

***

After John left to break it up with Mary, every sound seems to be multiplied. He’s tried to play his violin, but he can’t concentrate. Experiments are out of the question. Time is of the essence, and he needs to keep track of it, but the clock on the mantlepiece drives him crazy with its ticking, so he took out the battery. He has no clue where his watch is, and he doesn’t want to tap his phone screen constantly to count the seconds. 

At the top shelf on the bookcase, he finds what he needs. His grandfather’s old hourglass. It’s dusty and matte. Mrs. Hudson hasn’t been able to reach it when she comes dusting. Sherlock uses the sleeve of his dressing gown to polish the glass and when he’s satisfied, he sets it on the coffee table. The grains start to run through the small passage in the middle. Sherlock looks transfixed at it for a moment, before reality kicks in. 

His last conversation with John, replays in his mind for the umpteenth time. When John had assured Sherlock that everything would be fine. That Mary wouldn’t make any trouble when she realised John was moving out and back to Baker Street. 

“Bring your gun,” Sherlock had pleaded. 

“No, sweetheart. There won’t be any need for it. I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine, Sherlock,” John had said softly and kissed him. 

Sherlock hated to see John go. He knew more about Mary than John. She was dangerous and unpredictable. Sherlock sent a text to Mycroft the second the front door closed behind John. 

John has gone to Mary. Watch him! SH

The response came after twenty long seconds. 

Of course. MH

***

Sherlock sits in his chair, eyes fixed on the hourglass and the sand running steadily, counting the time. His brain constructs all sorts of disastrous outcomes of John’s encounter with his soon-to-be ex-wife. 

Mary, all dressed in black with a gun in her hand, pointed at John’s head. Mary in her wedding dress with a rifle directed at John’s heart. Mary in a pink negligee straddling John’s hips a pillow pressed over John’s face. 

He needs to stop this!

Mycroft has eyes and ears all over the house, and John will be alert and careful. Sherlock needs to be patient and trust John however hard he finds it. 

“One hour, Sherlock. After that, I’m all yours,” John had promised. 

To Sherlock it seems that the grains are running faster now. He knows they aren’t, but the phrase running out of time, has never felt more accurate. 

Sherlock freezes when he realises that he doesn’t know exactly what John had meant with one hour. Did he need one hour inside with Mary, or did he mean one hour from his departure until he was back?

Sherlock rises and paces back and forth in front of the windows, pulling his hair in frustration. 

He HATES not knowing!

Sherlock’s been so lost in his own head, and startles when someone calls his name. 

John!

He turns from the window and in the doorway stands a smiling John. 

“You’ve been worried,” he states fondly and walks towards Sherlock. 

Sherlock only nods before he almost falls into John’s waiting arms. He closes his eyes, revelling in the proximity, inhales the familiar scent and relaxes completely, breathing freely for the first time that day. 

“I love you, John,” Sherlock murmurs into John’s neck.

“Mm. Me too, love. Me too,” John says and tightens his grip around Sherlock. 

When Sherlock opens his eyes some time later, he registers the last grains in the hourglass running trough the passage, leaving the upper half empty. The hour is at an end and John is home. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @raina-at @peanitbear @brandiwein1982 @topsyturvy-turtely

[pollunam]

Flaws. Part 5.

Early in the morning, we loaded the gear into the lifeboat. I reloaded the pistols, gathered my hair into a tight bun, and was absolutely ready.

"So, to remind you, we attack at night," Gus repeated. "There will be about ten people for each of us, and," he raised his index finger, "Anders, don’t be greedy."

"My wild days are over," the Viking shrugged.

We climbed the mountain; it turned out to be easier than expected, as if our hands naturally found the footholds. Anders helped me up at the top, extending his hand, "Do you remember our agreement?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "but my wild days are not over yet." I was about to move on, but Anders grabbed my hand, stopping me. "Don’t even think about pulling something."

"What exactly do you mean by 'pulling something'?"

"Anything on the verge of madness and death."

"Can someone please stop this chit-chat and damn well get me off this cliff?" Freddie's voice had a note of wild panic.

"Damn it, Freddie," Anders pulled him up as if he weighed nothing. "And we’ll have a talk later," he threw at me while helping the others.

"What’s the problem?" Graham approached me, handing over some ammunition, "you can always deal with her like this."

"Are you suggesting killing Lassen right in front of him?"

"The plan sucks, but since we’re talking about it," Hayes whispered.

"I hear everything," Anders grumbled, coiling the safety ropes. "Watch out, Hayes."

Graham and I exchanged glances, laughing.

"You guys are like kids, seriously."

"Yeah, big guy, that’s why you love us," Hayes picked up his bag from the ground, waiting for Gus’s order to move on.

"Am I right that he’s going to kill armed-to-the-teeth Germans with a bow?" Graham and I watched as Anders moved forward.

"It’s a skill, probably, I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Gus, it’s like we’re taking one scaredy-cat and two crazy kids to a morning party," Anders turned back to us with an indignant expression.

"It’ll be fun," the captain chuckled.

Gus, Graham, Freddie, and I lay in the bushes, observing the life on the German base through binoculars. A car drove up.

"Gestapo," Gus said, lowering the binoculars, "and that coat isn’t bad."

"That’s too much."

"Alright, we’ll move out at night, meanwhile, keep an eye on the situation."

Shouts of Germans were heard behind us. Two soldiers grabbed their rifles but fell, coughing up blood before they could fire. I grimaced, turning away.

"What happened to them?"

"An arrow," Freddie shrugged.

"And where is it now?" Graham looked around.

"It went through."

Lassen stumbled out of the bushes. "There were two more," he gestured somewhere.

"And where are they now?"

"In Nazi heaven," the Viking shrugged, passing right by us.

"Great, Lassen, go ahead and shoot them with your bow," Gus said resignedly.

"We have no reason to wait any longer," I said, standing up and dusting off my pants.

Anders took out the lookouts; his arrows flew swiftly and accurately.

"Commendable," I remarked.

"Y/N, you’re with us," Gus called me over, "stealthily and quietly."

"Aye-aye," I chuckled, crouching by the container. We sneaked around the building from the back. Gus opened the door, peeking inside. He smiled, shooting the Germans sitting with headphones at the receivers, sticking his tongue out.

"Maniac," I exhaled, peeking into the neighboring building.

"And I tell them, it’s not a dog! It’s my wife!" The German’s joke was cut off quite unfortunately; it probably wasn’t even funny. However, Gus laughed, even when everyone else stopped. Then a burst of gunfire rang out.

I blew an imaginary smoke from my pistol, "How long will we keep strolling?"

"Get down!" Gus yelled, dropping to the floor.

Freddie took up the machine gun, spraying bullets over all the buildings and Germans. The bullets whistled, piercing the wooden walls.

"Is everyone here?" Gus got up as sudden silence fell.

"Except for them, sir," I surveyed the fallen soldiers like toys.

"And here are the new acquisitions," the captain smiled contentedly, approaching an officer.

"Leather is so out of fashion, Gus."

"But it suits me, you'll see."

We set out confidently, heading towards a round building that looked like a terrifying barracks. This was the exact spot where Anders had thrown the grenade, ducking behind the wall. He disappeared into the doorway and the billowing smoke.

"Let’s not rush; he’ll manage," Gus saluted the body of a German in the same coat, "I mean Lassen, of course."

When we entered the building, Lassen was standing there, bloodstained, holding a heart in his hands.

"What is that?" Graham grimaced, "Oh my God, Anders, don’t tell me that’s a human heart."

"Checked for presence," the man replied nonchalantly, adjusting his glasses.

"Thanks, darling, this is just what I needed to make today the most traumatizing day of my life." I turned away, wrinkling my nose.

"Well, hello there, friend," Gus smiled sweetly at the man handcuffed to the wall.

"Oh, God, Apple, how did you get yourself into this," I walked over to the battery from which wires ran to Jeffrey's chest, switching off the power.

"And it would be great to remove these too," he shook his hands, and the handcuffs clinked.

"Be patient," I took a pin from my bun and started working on the lock.

An absolute silence fell, carrying an unspoken question that hung in the air behind us.

"Do you two know each other?" Anders gestured between me and Jeffrey.

"We grew up together," the former German prisoner replied quickly, "By the way, remember that guy?"

"The Spaniard?" We started walking towards the exit.

"Yeah, it turns out his sister was a spy after all," Appleyard began his surprising story.

"I didn’t understand a thing just now."

Gus sighed, "Neither did I, my friend, neither did I," he patted Lassen on the shoulder, "leave it here, I beg you."

Anders dropped the heart on the floor and hurried after us.

"Hey, I grabbed your glasses!"

"And a coat for yourself, I see," Jeffrey smiled, "thank you."

Outside the building, Freddie was waiting for us, having rigged the weapon depots with explosives. As soon as we reached the cliff, there was an explosion.

"Beautiful," Gus observed, "well done."

The entire way back to the ship, we talked with Jeffrey, while Lassen shot us extremely displeased looks. How could this man be so grim after achieving his ultimate dream – a German heart?

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the edge of the ocean, painting the sky with shades of pink. I was chopping vegetables for a salad, watching through the small window as the colors in the sky changed. Thoughts swirled in my head, and an unfamiliar voice kept asking, "How's Anders?" and what was happening. Unfortunately, I had no answers. This strange feeling gnawed at my chest, begging for attention. However, let’s leave it for later. It was time for dinner. I peeked out the cabin door, calling everyone to the table.

“What a treat,” Graham exclaimed, rubbing his hands together as he settled into his favorite spot.

I smiled, “Glad to be of service.”

Gus appeared in the cabin, “I think we should celebrate saving our dear Jeffrey and open,” he rummaged in a drawer, “a bottle of wine.”

“Well, I've shared my news, what about you?”Appleyard asked, sitting next to Gus.

“Have they told you that Y/N got married?” Graham asked, generously piling potatoes onto his plate.

Here we go. Jeffrey choked, Freddie shot a disapproving look at his friend, shaking his head, “Who announces such news while someone is eating?”

“When?”

“So, that's more important than to whom?” I shook my head in disappointment, “I didn't expect that.”

Anders entered the cabin.

“To him,” Gus announced solemnly.

The Viking looked at me in confusion, as if to say, “Again?” I just nodded. Again. It seemed like this would never end. Not that it hurt or upset me, it was more amusing and intriguing.

Appleyard stood up, then sat down again and got up once more, “Congratulations, of course, congratulations,” he extended his hand to Anders, “I still don’t like you,” Anders replied, shaking his hand. Jeffrey laughed nervously. “I won’t even ask why.”

“Enough, that’s it, joke’s over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We didn’t get married, there was just a situation where I called Anders my husband, then everyone thought it was a funny fact and it started.”

“That’s strange,” Jeffrey squinted, “Is it true?” He turned to the others.

They all shook their heads negatively.

“So, you’re lying to me after everything that’s happened? And didn’t even invite me to the wedding?”

I glared at Anders, seeking support, but he just stood there, arms crossed and smiling. “Now it’s really becoming something funny.”

“Yes, Jeffrey, I didn’t invite you because Anders doesn’t like you.”

Gus chuckled, lighting a cigarette, “That’s right, my friend. We barely convinced him to come along to rescue you.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t grasp what was going on.

“Of course not, you wouldn’t do that. And you wouldn’t marry him, but that’s between us.”

I have only one question: why do people act like we’re the only ones in the world when they say something or ask awkward questions?

“Why wouldn’t she marry me?” Lassen snorted.

“I’m not sure, of course, but you seem a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“I don’t know, she just wouldn’t.”

Anger was boiling inside me.

“Well, who among us is not the brightest,” Graham sighed.

“All right,” I rose from my seat, holding a stern and mighty weapon – a towel.

“No, wait, tell me, would you marry me?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Very unfortunate timing, Lassen,” Gus responded calmly.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

“So, she wouldn’t marry you.” Jeffrey shrugged.

“You’d better keep quiet,” I turned to him, “and stop talking about me as if I’m not here. None of you have any business in this matter, one more joke and I’ll kill whoever says it and blame it on an unfortunate accident,” I said passionately, “And you, who do you think you are? My older brother or father? I didn’t ask for your protection, Jeffrey. And for the record, I would marry him, but that’s irrelevant, so enough!”

Silence fell.

“Alright,” Anders said serenely.

“Alright!” I barked, leaving the cabin.

“I can understand her,” Gus said, “and each of you got exactly what you deserved.”

Two displeased looks immediately turned to him.

“Why didn’t he get what he deserved? He started all of this,” Freddie pointed at Hessie, who had been diligently and quietly eating, trying to blend into the wall.

I exhaled heavily, releasing pent-up emotions. Footsteps echoed, and I knew it was Anders or simply wanted to believe it, turning towards him.

“I can’t understand you,” he began, “you’re absolute chaotic madness in armor.”

“You know what, you can’t blame me for that because you’re no better.”

“There you go again, who told you it’s a blame? I like that you’re so real.”

“Wonderful, and again, why are you telling me all this?”

Without saying another word, Anders leans in so carefully. Breathing and not breathing, our hearts beating in unison, and he’s so close, he’s so close that I can’t feel my legs anymore. I can’t feel my fingers, the cold, or the emptiness of this ocean because all I feel is him, everywhere, filling everything. And he whispers, “Please don’t kill me for this.”

And he kisses me, placing his broad hand on my cheek, pulling me closer.

His lips are softer than anything I’ve ever known, soft like the first snow, like a piece of cotton candy, like pre-dawn air, like floating weightlessly in water.

This moment seems to embody the very essence of love – tender, gentle, silent. In his touch, there’s a promise of eternity, in his gaze – a reflection of our dreams. The taste of his kiss is not just sweetness, but an entire world where there’s no place for pain and loneliness, where every breath, every touch intertwines into the melody of our hearts. Let this moment stay with us forever, as a reminder of how easily even the coldest hands can be warmed and all flaws accepted.

A moment that lasted an eternity, where time ceased to exist.

“Anders,” I whisper, confused and at the same time tender, connecting with him through an invisible thread.

“That’s exactly what I meant,” he replies, adjusting my hair, “and nothing else.”

[chvoswxtch]

I finally finished echo so if you’d like to listen to me incoherently ramble about it and my baby maya pls join me below ✨

first off the fact that there were only 5 episodes is fucking CRIMINAL

secondly alaqua cox is quite literally one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen

and thirdly I would die for biscuits and billy jack

side note- matt showing up just to be a dick and show off and then dip is so on brand but this isn’t his show and it isn’t about him so that’s the last i’ll talk about him

let’s get into it

not even two minutes into the first episode I was leaking from my eyes, and that happened several times throughout the entire series

the tone of this series reminded me so much of the netflix mcu and after watching echo, I have a lot more hope for future marvel projects that are darker and more gritty

the way this show dealt with themes of grief and generational trauma while also balancing sequences of violence and sprinkles of comedic relief was incredible. nothing felt cheesy or forced, the pacing was a little fast but again we were only given 5 episodes and echo definitely deserved more

the entire quileute tribe being cast is fucking ICONIC

the amount of work that went into making sure the indigenous representation was accurate and presented in a respectful way was very impressive. my father’s side of the family is native american and live in oklahoma and it was just really neat to see something so close to home portrayed in marvel without being over the top or exaggerated

I forgot how much I loved vincent’s version of fisk and getting to see him in the iconic white suit was incredible. i’m also super stoked to see the mayor fisk storyline and how that affects maya

I think they should’ve spent longer exploring how her ancestors echo through her and the healing abilities/powers that seems to grant her. it’s a lot different from her “power” in the comics and I honestly think it’s a more interesting concept and I would love to see them explore it further in the future

I loved that they weren’t lazy with the sign language and that the cast and crew all learned to communicate with alaqua

I loved that they also spoke in choctaw, and started the series with the creation of the tribe to set the stage for the rest of the series

the fact that alaqua herself is deaf and an amputee just proves that she was meant to play maya and she did a fucking PHENOMENAL job

I think they handled her disability so respectfully and perfectly. it wasn’t a hinderance or something that was heavily pointed out, it was literally just a part of who she was and that’s it

she’s so fucking smart and resourceful like she straight up made a gun out of a roller skate???

playing dragula at the skating rink was so real she’s just like me

the way they laced sound in and out of certain scenes to give us maya’s pov of what she experiences was such a neat thing to do

the little easter eggs confirming that the netflix shows are canon??? (fisk’s hammer, the roxxon gas station, etc)

y’all know how I feel about feral brunettes (especially ones in leather jackets)

“kingpin had his run. it’s time for a queen.” FUCKING ICONIC

bottom line is this show was fucking amazing and if you haven’t watched it yet, please do yourself a favor and check it out, especially if you enjoyed any of the netflix marvel shows. you will not be disappointed

i’m humbly appointing myself president of the maya lopez fan club and you’re all welcome to join we’re getting matching leather jackets

I can’t rave enough about echo or alaqua cox (I mean I could) but if you’ve made it this far thx for coming to my ted talk 🖤✨

[ofstoriesandstardust]

tale untold (b.r.b.)

a/n: yeah i don’t have a good explanation for this one. not all of this was my evil genius, i do owe some of it to @struggling-with-delia​

summary: Rebel reflects. 

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse

warnings: pregnancy scare, fears of an unwanted pregnancy, birth control, missed periods, mentions of an abortion, mentions of sex, at no time is she ever pregnant, swearing, this one isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea

word count: 2.1k

You knew better than to be as careless as you had been. 

You’d long since known, ever since you decided you didn’t want kids, that you had to be careful when it came to seeking pleasure through sex. It was something you didn’t really enjoy anyways, meaningless hook-ups not boding well with you, and you’d decided a while ago to get off the pill, it creating problems for your body that were much easier solved by just getting off of it completely. 

Still, when you’d gotten together with Bradley, you knew it was important you were smart about this. You nor Bradley were in any position to be having kids right now.

And you had tried to be smart, but getting re-prescribed the pill had been more of a process than you originally anticipated, the base doctor making you go in circles before he would approve it. 

All it took was Bradley’s inability to keep his hands to himself one night and a heated make out session for you to risk it. 

What were the odds, right?

The odd’s it seemed, were pretty good. 

Not in your favor, one might say. 

I think I might be pregnant. 

The words swim on the screen through unshed tears as Bradley stands next to you. 

“It’s going to be okay, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?” He says, offering you his hand. You just look at him, worrying your bottom lip underneath your teeth. 

“Rebel?” The sound of your best friend’s voice echoes through the Bradshaw home. 

“In the bathroom.” Rooster calls, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You’re a dead man, Bradshaw.” 

You both raise your heads to see Hangman, who’s smirking at Bradley like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week. 

To him, it probably is. 

A girl with mommy issues he’s done nothing but bicker with since the day he met her getting knocked up by a guy she had only recently reconciled with after almost two decades is probably the highlight of his week. 

If he could, he’d probably sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch the free entertainment. 

“What are you doing here, Bagman?” Rooster asks, a hint of irritation in his tone. 

“He was with me when Rebel texted me.” Coyote says, pushing the blonde out of the door frame. “Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then why are you freaking?” Hangman snorts, earning him a pointed glare from your best friend. 

The front door opens again, followed by the shouting of Phoenix’s voice. She appears in the doorway with Bob a few minutes later, a CVS bag in hand. 

“Okay, admittedly I wasn’t sure which ones were considered the most accurate so I bought you three different brands, just to be sure.” She glances up from where she’s rifling through the bag. “Bagman, why are you here?” 

“My presence was specifically requested.”

“No the fuck it was not.” Bradley says through gritted teeth. 

Coyote rolls his eyes. “He was with me when I got her text.” 

You groan, head falling as you reach up to rub your temples. 

“Rebel, chill. If you don’t want it, just get an abortion.” Hangman says nonchalantly, and even though you aren’t looking at him, you can practically see the shrug of his shoulders. 

“Have you... have you guys talked about anything like that?” Bob asks cautiously. 

“Obviously not, Bobby.” Hangman responds. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be in this predicament.” 

“But if you had a kid, oh, I could be an uncle!” Coyote exclaims, prompting another groan as your fingers press harder into your temple. 

“Yeah, but her career would essentially be over. A kid would change everything.” 

Phoenix’s words sit heavy on you, knowing how many female pilots have left on maternity leave and been pushed out. It’s a man’s world you were living in and you had known it since you were young. 

“What about my career?” Rooster exclaims. 

“You’re a man.” She deadpans. 

“Okay!” You nearly shout, voice hoarse and strained. “None of you are helping so please for the love of Christ can you get out so I can pee on the fucking stick?”

Everyone stares at you for a minute before Bob spurs into action, shooing everyone out of the bathroom before leaving with a quiet, “I hope you get the result you want.” 

You take a shaky sigh before running your hands through your hair. You take another minute, the anxiety swimming in your stomach before you stand up, grabbing one of the tests. 

After taking all three of the tests and washing your hands, you set a timer on your phone. You resume your seat on the edge of the bathtub, hands clasped in front of you as you grow more anxious by the minute. 

If you were pregnant, you were not having this kid. 

The thought that there could be an unborn fetus growing inside of you right now makes you nauseous as you try to remember to breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

You weren't meant to be a mother, weren’t cut out for it. You had known for years now that you would never have kids of your own. 

As crass as Hangman had been, you probably would get an abortion if that test was positive. 

The thought of giving birth, of the risks and complications, of having to take the time off of work to bring this baby to term, the weight gain and the hormones, the contractions and cravings, even if you gave it up for adoption, sounded like it’d be worse than a fork in the eye. Worse than several forks in the eye. 

And there was the added layer of not knowing what Bradley would do. Would he be angry with you for not wanting to keep it? Would he leave? 

Your Dad would probably be angry with you for being so reckless and careless about this, for making the same mistakes he had made that had brought you into this world. 

It was all too much, too overwhelming. 

You didn’t even have your own mother to turn to and lean on for support. 

The thought of your mother makes your chest feel tight as you suddenly wonder if this is how she had felt when she took the test. If this is how she had felt her whole pregnancy. If this suffocating, drowning feeling at the thought of being a mother had been what she felt through her whole pregnancy, of the first two years of your life, you think, for the first time in your life, you might finally understand why she left. 

The timer rings out, cutting off your train of thought. You take a shaky breath, standing from the bathtub as you steady yourself to look at the tests. 

Negative

Every single one of them were negative. You let out a choked laugh, relief bringing you to you knees as you slowly sink down to the cool tile of the bathroom floor. 

You would probably still have to go to the doctor, just to be certain, but this was a good sign. A good start. 

Tears rolls down your cheeks before you can stop them, the relief too much to bear. 

You sit there for a while more before there’s a soft knock on the door, almost unsure. “Honey?” He calls. “I’m going to come in, if that’s okay.” 

The bathroom door opens slowly, Bradley peeking his head in. He softens at the sight of you on the floor, tear stains on your cheeks as he glances at the test. 

“Upset?” 

You shake your head, wiping some of the tears away. “Relieved.” 

He nods, crouching down to sit next to you before shifting you to pull you into his lap. Your head rests on his shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist. 

“You’re probably just stressed honey. The last few months have been hard on everyone, but especially you. And you haven’t been eating properly and taking care of yourself like you should.” He says with a soft squeeze of your hip. “Those two combined probably explain the missed period and the nausea.” 

You shrug, knowing he’s probably right. 

“Bradley, I don’t want kids.” 

“Okay.” 

You lift your head to look him in the eyes. “No, I mean I don't want kids ever.” 

Yet again, there is that patient and simple “Okay.” 

It’s infuriating. 

Before you can create a snarky comment about just what he's throwing away by being with you, he takes your chin in his hand. “Honey, I’m never going to force you to do something you don’t want to. If that test was positive and you wanted that kid, I’d be all for us keeping it. If you wanted to get an abortion, I’d support that too. As far as kids go, I’m entirely neutral. What’s more important to me is your happiness and how I can support you best so that we stay together.”

“Sure, you say that now, but in a couple years down the road, you’re going to feel differently.” 

“No.” He says firmly. “No, I won’t. I want to be with you. I love you. And I’d love our kid if we had one together but I would love a life without them just as much. We have spent too many years apart for me to sacrifice it all now that I have it.” 

“You’re going to end up resenting me for this.” You mutter, earning a shake of his head. 

“Absolutely not. We can get a dog or something if it’s so important to you. But the not having kids doesn’t change my mind about you. Plus, you forget I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You’ve never really wanted children. I knew what I was getting into.” 

You sigh as he lets your chin go, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your lips. He shifts some of your hair to press a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. 

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” 

-

Bradley’s chest vibrates agains your back as he laughs at the Scooby-Doo cartoon on screen. Buddy’s curled up at your feet, a heavy ring on your finger holding the weight of the promise of forever. 

This, what you have with Bradley, is forever. He’s been making that promise to you since the day the two of you got together. 

Still, the memory is there. 

It carries a heavy weight of its own, the fear that had lingered. 

The two of you hadn’t had any more scares since that one, you’d made sure of it. But the fear of what you were denying Bradley had stayed. It was a fear the two of you had had raw, honest conversations about and you’d had to learnt to trust him when he said that he felt like he wasn’t missing out by being with you, that he was perfectly content not having kids of his own. 

“Do you remember when we had that pregnancy scare?” 

Bradley huffs out a laugh, his chest vibrating again.

“Of course I do, Coyote was practically building a nursery in his mind before you ever even took a test.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you piece the words together. 

“I’ll never forgive my Mom.” You whisper. Bradley shifts against your back, propping himself up. Your eyes are still trained on the young crew, tracking down the masked man behind the ghost. 

“But for one moment, just one, I understood her.” 

You sit up before Bradley has a chance to even process the words, earning a raise of Buddy’s head. You smile down at the dog. “C’mon Buddy, it’s time for bed.” 

You walk up the stairs with the dog, getting ready for to turn in for the night as Bradley follows you. It’s silent, Bradley not saying anything as the two of you get ready for bed. Even after the two of you have turned off the lights and climbed up under the covers, Bradley doesn’t say anything. He just pulls you close, your dog wedged between the two of you at your feet. 

He runs his fingers through your hair as you hear the AC kick in, reminding you of the summer heat existing outside these walls. 

Only after minutes more with just the hum of the air conditioning unit and the steady breathing of your golden retriever, does Bradley speak. 

“I love you sweetheart.” He whispers, shifting slightly to press a kiss to your collarbone. You smile, even though he can’t see it. 

There’s that promise again, the promise to always love you, to never leave. 

“I know.” You respond quietly. “I love you too.” 

And that’s your promise to him, that you’ll accept his love and return it all the same. 

[thatsrightice]

I’VE GOT A FIRE AND ITS PISSING ME OFF!!!

But everytime I try to make progress on my fic, a new inaccuracy decides to pop up onto my radar. And I’m at a standstill until I fix it like I can’t just worry about it later because it’s going to bother me too much.

My problem right now is this guy:

Commander Tom “Stinger” Jardian

They NEVER specify his role and who he is in terms of what he’s in charge of, but we know he’s a Commander because of those nifty little maple leaf-lookin things on his collar. It’s implied he’s the CAG, Commander of the Carrier Air Wing and basically in charge of all the aircraft squadrons on the carrier, but typically CAGs are at the rank of Captain (one above Commander). Each squadron in the Carrier Air Wing has a Squadron commanding officer, not to be confused with the Commanding Officer who’s in charge of the entire aircraft carrier and its different departments. Now the confusing part is the CO and the CAG are basically on the same level, they work together rather than one reporting to the other and as such they are both typically Captains.

BUT STINGER ISN’T A CAPTAIN, HES A COMMANDER. So is he the CAG or is he Maverick’s Squadron CO who reports to the CAG????

Now I have to decide if I fix his rank and make him CAG, leave it as is despite it being wrong, or make him the squadron CO(least likely, he’s too large and in-charge).

I’m more inclined to leave which makes this rant pretty much null and void but the fact I have to make a decision is infuriating. Tell me there are people who relate to navigating the military inaccuracies in this movie????

[nightghoul381]

No Room to Breathe~ Ellis Twilight

Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

No Warnings for this part, but it does become NSFW in later parts, so MDNI

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Victor: “Well then, here’s the question.”

Victor: “The third glass from the top and furthest left in the common room. What happens if you touch it?”

Kate / Ellis: “A hidden armory appears.”

Victor: “Yes, very good answer.”

(Waaaaah…!)

The moment he touched the glass, a shelf appeared and the common room transformed into an armory.

On principle, only the members of Crown and I were allowed to use the weapons Victor possessed.

Victor: “It’s so earnest and sweet of you to ask to borrow a weapon for your next mission, it almost brings tears to my eyes.”

Ellis: “Can I take whatever I want?”

Victor: “Of course you can! What do you want? Oh, this is a new tranquilizer gun. Once it puts you to sleep, you won’t wake up for 24 hours!”

Victor: “It can be used on either lions or people. And this one—”

Ellis: “These handcuffs… I’ve never seen ones like this before.”

Kate: “Really? How do they work?”

Ellis: “Kate, can I see your hand… I wonder if this is it.”

Kate: “Oh, I see. That’s how you use them.

Victor: “So, this one is…what!? Wait, what!?”

Victor: “What’s that in your hands, no way…”

Ellis: “…?”

Victor yelled as he looked at the handcuffs connecting one of my hands and one of Ellis’s hands.

Victor: “These are handcuffs that never come off after you put them on-----Oh!”

--dining room

(Th-This is one hell of a situation.)

Liam heard the commotion and pulled us into the dining room saying “Al is a master lock-picker”

Alfons: “You’re fools to fall for handcuffs that can never come off again.”

Kate: “Hey, regardless of what we’re stupid enough to do, just take it off for now. Please.”

As the rest of Crown looked on, Alfons messed around with the handcuffs, looking up after 5 seconds.

Alfons: “This is impossible.”

Kate: “Huh? Please, try a little harder.”

Alfons: “I’m a genius at giving up. Isn’t it foolish to waste effort on unnecessary things.”

Alfons: “I surrender, I surrender.”

(Th-that’s…)

(Huh? It seems like Victor and I are the only ones who have been panicking for a while now.)

Ellis: “…Is it really so bad if it stays this way?”

Kate: “Huh?”

Ellis: “With anyone else, it would be a bit of a problem, but…”

Ellis: “If it’s with you, I don’t mind staying connected.”

I blinked at the unexpectedly sweet words being thrown at me.

Ellis: “You feel the same with me… right?”

Kate: “It’s…. The, uh, I don’t like…. I don’t.”

Ellis: “I see. Fufu, good.”

Victor: *sobbing* “……Oh……OH…..Oh….”

Victor: “This is a grave situation. I can’t believe that my mismanagement has deprived two people of their freedom!”

Liam: “…Victor, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Victor: “So, I’ve decided to call a locksmith I know.”

Victor: “He lives far away, so I’ll be home late. William,”

William: “—ah, I understand. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Victor: “My sweet Kate, Ellis. Wait for me, okay?”

(…Gone like the wind.)

William, who had been watching the situation while drinking his tea, smiled softly.

William: “Kate, Ellis. Crown duties will be relegated until it is removed.”

William: “Think of it as a vacation and spend it as you like.”

Liam: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you instead.”

Kate: “Thank you. Ah, but Ellis, you have work for Jude’s company, right?”

Kate: “You’ll need to tell Jude that you’re taking the day off.”

(It’s dangerous to have business negotiations or collect money while connected.)

Ellis: “Yeah. But, do you think he’ll readily say I can take a break?”

Kate: “Fufu, no way. Not that devil.”

--castle grounds

We went to see Jude who was doing some research in the library…

--library

Jude: “Tch, that doesn’t matter, just do the work.”

(The devil!)

Ellis: “I knew Jude would say that.”

Ellis: “The way you’re talking…Is there something you want us to do?”

Jude: “Do you remember the man who asked to borrow money for investing from me three months ago?”

Ellis: “Ah…that extremely friendly grey-haired man?”

Jude: “Yeah. He stopped his repayments without asking.”

Kate: “Is there some reason why don’t just ignore it?”

Jude: “Are you seriously asking that?”

(Uh….)

Jude: “The circumstances and shit were premeditated. He doesn’t pay people back, just shows up at balls around here and there and has a grand old time.”

Jude: “How dare he break his word, eh?”

After spitting it out, Jude threw something in front of me and Ellis.

Kate: “An invitation to a ball? Could it be…”

Jude: “He’ll be there tonight. Go undercover and collect the money he stole.”

Ellis: “That means Kate is a young lady and I am her servant.”

Kate: “No, that would be suspicious. We’re still connected aren’t we?”

Jude: “They’ll just think overprotective parents put a collar on their daughter.”

Jude: “Or they’ll think yer someone with a taste for that sort of thing.”

(Ngh, That’s the problem! Ah, that’s right!)

Kate: “Well, I also don’t have a high-class dress that a young lady would wear.”

If I told Victor, he’d probably have one ready in a second, but I’ll keep that a secret for now.

Jude: “Haah… yer a very ill-prepared princess.”

Jude, looking really bothered, took something out and ran his pen over it.

Jude: “Hm, If ya got this it’ll be fine.”

Kate: “Uh, a check…and for this much!?”

Kate: “I can’t accept this!”

Jude: “No one said anything about doing it for free. It’s an advance on today’s work.”

Jude: “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll have to pay it back with double the interest. Do yer best.”

Kate: “Eh, h-hey!”

--Crown Castle Hall

(…ugh, I couldn’t refuse.)

Ellis: “Kate, are you okay?”

Kate: “I’m alright. Now that I’ve received the money, I want to do my job properly.”

Kate: “Let’s do our best, Ellis.”

Ellis: “…Fufu.”

Kate: “…?”

Ellis: “I, that part of you… I like it.”

Ellis: “…Maybe it’s a good thing it turned out like this.”

Kate: “…good?”

Ellis: “Yeah. This way, I can be with you all the time.”

When I see the sweet smile on his face, I feel my heart flutter.

(Before, I couldn’t say it clearly)

Kate: “Me too, I’m glad you were the one who was connected to me.”

Ellis: “I see, I’m happy… So, shall we go buy a dress?”

Kate: “Yes, Ellis!”

--Mansion entrance

After I bought a formal evening dress at Harrods,

We stepped into the mansion where the ball was being held.

(Wow, a big mansion… and lots of people.)

While I was stunned by the glittering lights, Ellis held my hand.

Ellis: “Let’s hold hands. It would be difficult if we got separated.”

Kate: “Fufu, we can’t exactly be separated when I’m handcuffed to you.”

Ellis: “I didn’t say it right. So…”

Ellis: “Can I hold your hand, because I want to hold your hand?”

Kate: “……yes.”

(I wonder if he noticed my anxiety… Ellis is as kind as ever.)

When I think about that, I suddenly felt a sense of discomfort.

(Huh? Are we being watched?)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

[1-800marvelqueen]

The Door At The End Of The Hall

Marc Spector x fem!reader, Steven Grant x fem!reader

Part Two

WC : 1.7K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mention of guns, violence, fighting, death, blood, etc.

If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

No no no. 

He couldn’t go back there, he couldn’t relive that moment. He couldn’t sit there and watch as you-

But Steven was already running towards you. Towards the memory of you.

Marc had already gone back through his childhood, through the death of his brother, through his mothers abuse, through his death and rebirth as Khonshu’s avatar. Wasn’t it enough? Wasn’t all that he’d shown Steven enough to balance the scales? Why would fate be as cruel as to force him to relive this moment again?

He could hear you yelling in the distance, the very sound of your voice hurts his chest, it rings in his head. He really doesn’t need to follow Steven into the temple, he remembers every single detail of this moment, this memory.

That’s all you were now. A memory.

He remembers it down to the smallest sounds and smells, down to the specks of dust and sand in the air. But this isn’t something Steven should witness on his own. As much as Marc doesn’t want to enter, Steven needs him. 

It was a mission gone wrong. Khonshu had ordered him to go against some pretty dangerous people, a cult of sorts. He knew it was extremely dangerous, that there was a chance Khonshu’s ability to heal wouldn’t save him. That’s why he hadn’t told you about it. 

You were an avatar. You served Sekhmet; the destroyer of the enemies of the Sun God Ra, the Egyptian goddess of war, plague, and chaos. Marc knows that you were the perfect fit to be her Avatar, your embodiment of all that Sekhmet stood for was so accurate, so precise, that if anyone had ever told him you were the Goddess herself disguised as a human, he wouldn’t second-guess it. 

But just like your Goddess, you were hot-headed and stubborn. Once an idea had gotten into your head, it was hard to get it out of there. He hadn’t told you about the mission, he wanted you safe and far-far away from any danger he may partake in, he always did. But Khonshu, being the sneaky bird bastard he is, told Sekhmet. And therefore Sekhmet sent you to aid him. 

How could you ever turn down the chance to protect your loved one?

He enters the cave to the sound of fire whooshing, Marc ducks just in time as a man engulfed in flames stumbles past him, trying desperately to put himself out. If he wasn’t so emotionally drained, he could almost laugh at the sight. When you had first met him, you’d told him you had a fiery personality. He thought you were just saying it in the cheesy way that everyone else did. 

But then you had proved him wrong by lighting the sleeve of his shirt on fire without so much as lifting a finger. 

He thinks he had fallen in love with you at that very moment. 

His attention is pulled to the scene in front of him. He’s on top of some dangerous scaffolding, the planks under his feet looking like they could collapse at any moment. You’re down below, fighting bravely. He can’t make out the features of your face with the mask of your avatar garb covering it. But Marc doesn’t need to see your face to remember what it looked like. He’d spent so many nights laying with you, nights that were fruitless when it came to sleep, he’d trace the features of your visage while you slept. Memorising every scar, blemish, the way your nose would crinkle as he would brush a sensitive spot, the flutter of your eyes under your lids as you entered the deepest part of your sleep, while he remained awake. 

He looks at you as you fight, the spear of Sekhmet is in your hand as you battle it out with a man who wields a large knife. Steven watches on a few feet in front of him, confusion written all over his face.

“Marc, who is she?” hand lightly gesturing towards you as he casts a few glances over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off of whatever was going on. When he doesn’t get a reply Steven turns to look at him, he grows concerned at the fact that Marc’s attention isn’t on him, nor is it even on you, it’s on the man who walks the scaffolding. Someone Marc had tossed to the side to deal with another in front of him. He wonders, if he hadn’t thrown the man to the side, if he’d just taken him out immediately, would you still be here? 

The man bends down to grab the gun Marc had wrenched out of the hand of the man he was currently fighting, the one he had tossed over his shoulder. 

Big mistake.

Steven speaks once more when he sees the man bend down to pick up the gun, aiming it towards Marc. “Marc what is going on,” eyes wide as he turns towards the shell-shocked man, who now had tears welling in his eyes. He places his hands on Marc's shoulders, giving him a few rough shakes. “Marc, answer me! What is going on?” 

At the sound of an exclamation of pain he turns back, thinking it was Marc that had just been shot. But no, Steven watches as the man above turns his aim from Marc to you as you spear through one of his companions. He shouts out while Marc drops to his knees next to him. The man pulls the trigger and the bullet goes flying through the air. It pierces you in your thigh, you stumble. He fires again, it lodges in your stomach. He shoots a third time and Steven watches as it goes straight through the right side of your chest. 

The man goes to shoot for a fourth time but is stopped by Marc. He’s stabbed and thrown off the scaffolding. Marc quickly dispatches the rest of the people in the room. 

He rushes to your side.

Steven can hear the utterances, the string of “No” that is repeated over and over again by Marc as he scoops your upper-half into his arms, cradling your torso against his. He whispers your name, mixing it into the plethora of ‘no’s’. Steven briefly thinks that it’s one of the prettiest names he’s ever heard. He watches as Marc frantically begins pressing his hands into your wounds, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. 

The mask covering your face slips away and Steven can’t help but think you’re one of the prettiest people he’s ever laid his eyes on. He watches as the hand that was pressed against your stomach comes up to smooth your hair away, blood smearing on your forehead with the motion. 

Steven gets the answer to his previous question of who you are when Marc's hand slowly caresses down your face to hold at the bottom of your jaw, and a gentle kiss is placed upon you, between your brows. 

“No,” Steven whispers. Voice wavering as the realisation hits him like a ton of bricks. Watching the way that past-Marc is desperately trying to hold you together with his hands, to heal you with his touch, and the way present-Marc crumbles next to him, the tears that spill down his face, his hands clenching at his sides, his shoulders shaking with the attempt to hold in his sobs. 

This was some of the most emotion he’d ever seen in Marc. 

He watches as you place your hand overtop the one that presses into your chest, your hand trying hard to envelop Marcs’, squeezing with all the strength that’s left in your body. 

Steven thinks he can almost feel the pressure of your hold on his own hand. 

Marc knows he himself definitely feels it. 

“Marc,” kneeling down next to his broken counterpart, “You loved her didn’t you?” Steven receives no words, only a curt nod, he watches as Marc looks away, his eyes clenched shut tightly. “I’m so sorry Marc, I-I would’ve never brought us here if…” 

Steven looks back to see your hand lift to gently touch against Marcs’ cheek, a soft look in your eyes as you attempt to embrace him one last time, face nuzzling into his chest, a gentle kiss placed where his heart would be. 

“Steven I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

Marcs’ voice is quiet, he sounds so different than he normally does. Gone is the confident, self-assured man, the one who never lets anything ever bother him. The man who’s hunched over next to Steven is hollow, and it’s at this point Stevens’ understanding of why he was created in the first place is truly solidified in his mind.  

He can’t find it in himself to argue with Marc, uttering a quiet ‘Lets go’. Placing an arm around Marc's backside, Steven hoists him up, carrying him back towards the door. He casts a glance over his shoulder just in time to see your head flop backwards, neck no longer supporting its weight as you finally give in, all signs of life gone. 

He can hear Marc pleading, to whomever he can think of first. Sekhmet, Khonshu, anybody.  He’s pleading for you to come back, to open your eyes, to not leave him.

 The cries and begs slowly get louder and louder. Steven can feel tears in his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. It’s only when Steven and Marc reach the plain white door does he hear a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching scream echo from the mouth of the cave. 

The guilt overwhelms Steven, curse him and his curious mind. He regrets coming in here, dragging Marc after him no matter how much he begged to not enter the room. The tears fall as they reach the stark white hallway, and it’s at this point Steven wished he had never gone in. That he had never even thought about going near the door at the end of the hall. 

~

Originally posted June 2nd, 2022.

[judesmoonbeauty]

The Past Records: Ellis & Jude Chapter 4

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere.

Translation notes are marked with ***

At Liam's suggestion, we decided to teat Jude and Ellis.

Liam: In the end, what you're worried about is if they won't betray the Crown and sell the information somewhere, right?

Liam: If that's the case, why not leave some important documents around and see what happens?

Harrison: So, where did you leave them at?

Liam: I put a list of targets I’ve eliminated in the hallway in front of Jude’s room. 

Harrison: That’s too obvious.

Liam: There’s no point if it’s not noticed, right?

While we were having this conversation, Jude showed up in the dining room.

Liam: Ah, Good morning, Jude!

After glancing at Liam's bright smile that captivated everyone, Jude threw the documents in front of Liam.

Liam: Eh? Wow, I was looking this, thank you………

Jude: This is confidential information, right? 

Liam: Yea, I was just crying to Harry about what to do because Victor would be furious if he found out.

Jude: Look for ‘em before ya cry.

Liam: Ah-ha, right? Thanks for picking it up for me.

Jude: If I expose this to the outside world, it’ll be the end for ya and Crown, right?

Liam: !

Jude: People who can’t keep secrets shouldn’t speak.

Liam: Yea….ok, I’ll be careful. 

Liam: He left. 

Liam: What should I do, Harry, I think he hates me?

Harrison: No, he’s always had that kind of attitude. Don’t get discouraged.

Liam: But just now, wasn’t that a warning, “Don’t put the Crown at risk”?

Harrison: That’s what it sounds like. 

Liam: The fact that not only did he return the documents, but also gave a proper warning means bonus points for trustworthiness.

Harrison: Well, maybe it was worth it for you to be hated.

Liam: Ah, so you do think he hates me after all!

That night - 

Ellis: Oh, it’s Harrison. 

Harrison: Oh, it’s you. How unusual for you at this hour.

Ellis: I thought I'd have something to drink before going to bed. Did you have a tough mission Harrison? 

Ellis: Shall we make a sweet cocktail? I heard from Liam that you have a sweet tooth.

Without waiting for a response, Ellis took things out of the shelf, deftly made a grasshopper, and handed it to me.

Harrison: Are you a bartender or something? Mmm...Tasty.

Ellis: I’m glad.

Harrison: Liam was working so hard, so it wouldn't be fair if I didn't get dirty too.

Ellis: Did you say something?

Harrison: No, not really. You’re pretty skilled….

Ellis: Really?

Harrison: Moreover, you were kind from our first meeting with everyone. 

Harrison: So……that’s why I’m a little suspicious of you. 

Ellis: ?

Harrison pulled a gun from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Harrison: I've been following you and Jude for the past few days. On top of that, if I say I want to play a game with you, will you play along?

Ellis: Game? 

Harrison: Oh. The rules are simple. 

Harrison: There's not a single bullet in there.

Harrison: If you can trust my word, and pull the trigger six times at your own head, you win.

Ellis: Six times to the head. 

Harrison: If you have nothing against us, you can do it, right?

Ellis: Yeah, okay…

Ellis quickly picked up the gun and nimbly pulled the trigger at least six times, click, click, click, without hesitation.

Harrison: Wha-

Ellis: Do I win?

Harrison: Uh, yea. 

Ellis: Do you have one less thing to worry about?

Harrison: Haha.

Harrison: There was no hesitation.

Ellis: There isn’t. Because you’re kind Harrison.

Ellis: You wouldn't use live ammunition to test someone.

Ellis: Am I wrong?

Harrison: In other words, you’re saying I didn’t fool you enough?

Ellis: Hmm…..maybe that’s the case.

Harrison: So just because you pulled the trigger without hesitation, doesn't prove that there's nothing wrong.

Ellis: Yeah. So, your worries aren’t less?

Harrison: No.

Harrison: I'm not so cynical as to continue to doubt someone who's trusted me so much.

Ellis: Good. Well, let’s have another toast, shall we?

Harrison: Should I do it?

Green cocktail glasses clinked each other and a light sound was heard.

And so, a few days later -

William: How's the investigation going?"

Harrison: Well, I guess things are going well. I've come to most of my conclusions.

Harrison: I’ve finished the proofreading work, and I’m thinking of starting on the report.

William: Alright, then I guess you didn't need this information.

Harrison: Information? 

William: I asked Jude and Ellis if I could take on their first mission tonight, but they declined because they had work commitments.

William: What do you think?

Elbert: If it's the middle of the night, most of the business partners are probably asleep, but what kind of work do they do?

Alfons: Oh! This is a suspicious situation.

Alfons: Frankly, I don't care if it's white or black, but it sounds like fun, so let's tail them to see what they're up to.

Harrison: Is it necessary now…?

Liam: Harry, actually….

Harrison: What?

Liam: When I was trying to figure out what they were planning to do together, there was something that struck me as a little odd.

Liam: I went to the port in the middle of the night….. It looked like Jude was checking something out around the warehouse he was renting.

Roger: Maybe it's some kind of inspection or something.

Liam: But… There's been a rumor that some bad guys who just got out of prison have been coming in and out of there lately.

Alfons: I think I heard that story somewhere...I forget where though.

Harrison: I get it, I get it.

Harrison: Ok, so this is the final test.

[Previous] [Next] [Master List]

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

playboyy ep 12 stray thoughts

- “damn i hate myself” real

- first soong being cute 🥹🥹

- you know shits about to get emotional when the soundtrack switches to yoiyami

- “you called me a friend when you weren’t pretending to be nant” AND WHAT IF I LOSE MY MIND

- zouey and nont besties agenda

- OH GOD ZOUEY BACKSTORY wait noooooo

- i guess the evidence is staying hidden then like boy are they in their failvestigator era oh nvm they found something (that they already knew but still that’s more than they usually get

- promnont !!!

- hold on they finally showing zoueyteena. they can never just give a quick handy either always gotta be invoking the religious implications of a renaissance painting… good for them (yes i include the popcorn scene in this) also top zouey truthers this one was for you!!!

- what are you hiding under that tarp zouey 🤨🤨 i think it’s of nant

- hold on teena’s necklace lmao. is the t for troy no it’s for *too sleepy to finish the bit*

- NO GET A JOB!! STAY AWAY FROM HER!!!

- finna beat the shit out of jason lee give me 10 seconds i could take him out

- what does he mean by keep an eye on…

- oop that scarf zouey in his horse girl era

- THEY DOING WHAT TO WHO?!?!?

- she is not scared of them at all like two absolute kitty cats of toruturers MEKEKFKKRKRJFJFJF NOT THE DUSTERS I CANT

- the drop of sweat deserves an award for perfect timing and i’m being so serious about this

- AHH PROMNONT i can’t handle them being affectionate like it makes me lose my oh not the fuckass product placemntsjdjjdjdjrjrjjejdjr you know what i got me some promnont crumbs i’ll take it

- so i’m gonna see this scene expanded in fic later right 👀 i’ll give a million kisses to anyone who decides to do it

- they can never argue using simple sentences it’s always “i feel bad that you feel bad that i felt bad” and “im mad that you got mad that i got mad” and “if you have a problem that we have a problem than the problem is you’re invalidating my feelings” “i didn’t think you would think about me thinking” like besties….

- see but zouey was kinda right… why is he being made the bad guy, first and captain kinda pissin me off

- girl YOU got him expelled. captain needs to be fr

- NONT WITH THE BIG PANT CROPPED SHORT COMBO THATS MY MAN

- these college athletes are plain evil

- puen lowkey the only one in this show consistently talking sense. i hope he gets his licks back on these bum bitches cause i’ve had it with them

- the coloring the coloring the coloring the coloring the coloring the projection the projection the projection

- THE. HESS BOARD BEING PROJECTED PLAYBOYY SURREALISM FOR THE WON ONCE AGAIN

- captain talking big game for someone who took sneaky clips. hoping this shows growth on his part cause deep down im still rooting for him

- captain sweaty blow up the whole establishment i support you

- NO CAPTAIN THATS NOT WHAT I TOLD YOU TO DO THATS VERY MUCH MOT WHAT I JUST SAID YOU LITTLE BASTARD

- ooo the outro track finally making sense!! kejrjejdnjdj

- i love the when soong carries first

- oh more food, user @jeffsatyr i’m so sorry

- firstsoong enthusiasts we are so back oh there goes firsts fuckass dad

- captain needs to stop picking fights AND CAPTAINS A YANKEES fan i can’t defend him anymore

- puen fight back!!! he was going easy on captain cause he’s a nice little boy oh shit now aobs gonna kill captain isn’t he…

- captainkeenpuen enthusiasts don’t lose hope!!! we can still win!!

- aobpuen enthusiasts were so back

- THE COLORING THE COLORING THE COLORING

- the characters and 'accurately assessing the media their in' saga continues

- porsche looks like such a baby here. jump listen to porsche pls do not see him again

- cry by johannes bornlof is playing they fr pulling out the nuthphop ballads for the other couples today

- puen is my boy and i will lay down my life for him actually

- NONT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT IM GONNA WALHAT WHAT WYHAHW ok sorry yall him with the gun did sumn to me

- nont once again will not be caught slacking holding someone at gun point be damned AND ITS CAPTAIN WITB THE STEAL POLL?!?!?!?

- nont… i need to know how he picks outfits like did he want the color to match the gun????

- nont chuckling in the corner... i fear he’s lost it

- playboyy once again with the themes of tech and privacy

- captain is lucky puen is lowkey a pacifist

- nont and captain: torturing aob and puen for info about the murder, zoueyteena: painting time !!

- oh my god yall im getting chills like fr speechless i am so…

NUTH MY BABY BOY

- nuth coming through with his amateur directorial visions let’s gooooo

- nont being like “please do a little bit of torture, just for me, please 🥺”

- he playing the funeral violin oh it’s not ending well oh god

- jason lee you will crumble i am so serious about this count your mother fucking days

- nuth scurrying away in the back… also nont where is your marksmanship now

- puen keeps suffering tremendously and he doesn’t deserve a single second of it. free my boy he fr has never done anything wrong

- i think i was right and nuths screenplay is autobiographical

- THEYRE PLAYING AMBIVRLANT THOGUHTS AGAIN NUTHPHOP PIANO BALLAD ENTHUSAISTS WE STAY WELL FED

- nuthphop my beloveds i love them so fucking much you don’t get it no wait why he deleting them oh shit ! phop play shitty games win shitty prizes dawg

- welp

yall this might be one of the strongest eps in a hot minute i loved this one had me at the edge of my seat the whole time