#well i'm always on a top gun kick but expect many more posts

[thatsrightice]

It's hard to remember because so much of his personality is based on this ice-cold, no-mistakes persona, but Iceman isn't the lone wolf of the flyboys. People may just be tentative about approaching him because of his resting bitch face and his no-nonsense demeanor in a jet. He allegedly* got his callsign for the way he flies; he's by the books, never makes mistakes, and is ice-cold in the air. Never said anything about his personality on the ground. He probably (definitely) had a rough childhood with his family and sexuality and shit, but he found his people in the Navy.

The ordies (ordinance officers) and maintenance crews love him because he treats them as equals, not servants or lowly mechanics. He'll take time to talk with them, even if only in passing. Oh, he's great with names and I'm convinced that's one of the main reasons he made it so far in life because names hold so much power to friendships. Knowing someone's name instantly makes them feel appreciated like you care enough to remember their name, while may seem trivial it genuinely means a LOT on a ship of 5,000+ individuals where the pilots are basically royalty.

Maverick is the lone wolf. He's the socially awkward one. I mean people of the opposing gender are no problem for him because they're easy to impress. But his fellow aviators? Not as easily impressed. And when Maverick finally realizes he likes guys, too? Train wreck. Complete and total bumbling, fumbling idiot. If the shower scene has taught me anything, it's that he just avoids awkward social interactions whenever possible. A hot man trying to help him and give him advice (albeit a little rude, he's prob crushing hard too soooooo)? His first instinct is to turn around and not say a word like WTF was that Mav???? Just ask him out already!!!!

[circus4apsycho8]

confrontation. | boone x f!courier six

A/N: I wrote this years ago, but decided it was worth posting here :)

...

Something's off.

He's not sure whether it's from the flashy lights of The Strip, the general atmosphere, or Six's oncoming fate. Boone could tell she wasn't at all intimidated-that much was clear from the way she carried herself. Strong shoulders held back, posture straight as a ruler, and chin up, there was just no way she could be anxious. Several times when they had been travelling together, he had seen her fidget, or quiet down a little. Those types of signs usually meant she was nervous.

The fact that she's not showing any type of emotion is what's unnerving him.

Six was always bouncing with some type of emotion. Oddly enough, he had always found it cute with her; the way she always tried to get him to lighten up when his past came back to haunt him, or the seriousness she practically emanated when they were in the middle of battle.

Of course, he never told her that.

In all seriousness, it was a comfort to know that he would have someone like her to watch his back. Before, he hadn't really known anyone who could keep up with him like she did.

His thoughts were interrupted when she stopped suddenly. He looked up to see what she had spotted this time.

The Tops Casino.

He wondered if he should do anything. Would a physical gesture be too much right now? After all, she was about to meet the man who almost killed her. He lifted his hand hesitantly, placing it on her shoulder. As expected, Six whipped around in surprise, all traces of cautiousness clearly erased from her expression.

He jerked his hand back suddenly, wishing he'd thought that through.

"Boone...did you just..." she started, a sly smile on her lips. Boone could tell from how her lips quivered slightly that she was, in fact, nervous. She didn't want her feelings emanating to him. The gesture was sweet but unneeded; Boone knew she bottled up too many emotions.

He let out a sigh, then cupped her cheek in his hand. "Six...it's alright. I can tell you're nervous, but there's no need. You're gonna get the revenge you deserve." He wished he could go inside with her, but still he knew this was her battle. She deserved to finish it off the way she wanted, so he had no place to tell her how she should do it. Besides, she needed him to guard their weapons while she was inside.

"Wow, you speak!" she exclaimed, her small grin widening just a bit.

"I'm being serious."

"When are you not serious?" she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head. "...Just come back to me in one piece." The sniper chose to ignore the excited squeal that followed.

"I knew there was a squishy marshmallow under that rough, tough-guy exterior!" she gushed, every trace of worry temporarily gone.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled before taking a step back and placing a hand on his neck. "Just...kick his ass, will ya?" he requested, returning his gaze to her.

She shrugged. "I'll try my best. Don't know how it'll go, but..." the happiness evaporated as soon as it had appeared.

Boone understood the meaning behind her words. He didn't answer, but instead reached up to his head and pulled off his hat. He knew that she'd fallen in love with it ever since she'd used it when the two had met, and the sniper had been cautious with it ever since he had found out about her addiction to it.

It had been a chore for sure.

He took it off, then placed it on top of her head. His head suddenly felt odd without its familiar weight, but he knew she needed it more than he did at the moment. It fit her quite well, and Boone would be damned if he would lie and say it didn't look good on her.

The grin returned, and he gave her nose a gentle bop. She giggled, then handed him her gun.

"There aren't any weapons allowed, but I think I have a way I can sneak Chance's Knife in, at the very least. Will you carry these, for me, Ba-Boone?"

He groaned exasperatedly at her stupid little nickname for him. "Yeah. Be careful. I'll see you later, Six."

"See you," she replied, her voice sullen. He felt himself heat up a bit when she reached up and pecked him on the cheek, then turned and walked away, the skip no longer in her step.

He continued to watch as she opened the door, gave him a quick glance and smile, then shut the door to the casino as she slipped inside.

Boone couldn't relax for a while. He tried sitting on the steps, taking a walk to clear his mind, attempting to do something to keep himself busy. His mind kept shifting over to Six's health. He had a nagging feeling something would go terribly wrong, but he knew he couldn't help her. This wasn't his fight to finish.

He found himself staring at a strand of filthy, still-blinking lights whose inky color was pale and faded away. Boone had no idea how long he'd been waiting, but it felt like an eternity. Growing bored of the lights, he shifts his gaze back to the Tops, wondering where Six could be. So far, there hadn't been any signs of a disturbance or fight, but still he doubted.

He looked at the seemingly-endless ribbons of flickering, yellow light ripple through the curvy architecture against the night sky. Boone thinks he prefers the quiet of the Wasteland. There are too many people, too many situations that could turn against him and Six on a dime. He never did care for the business of a life here.

He wondered how Six had managed to get into a place this expensive; most days the Courier hadn't even had enough Caps to buy herself dinner. There just wasn't any way she would have been able to gather two-thousand Caps in the time she'd taken to get into the Strip itself. Of course, Boone never questioned her, because you just never knew with Courier Six.

The slamming of the casino door finally got his attention, his head spinning to meet the origin of the slam. There stood none other than Six herself, a scowl on her expression and the bloodied handle of Chance's Knife pressed under her arm in a weak attempt to hide it. He stepped up to her, about to ask her what in the hell had happened.

"W-we need to leave," she muttered, a fierce anger burning in her furious eyes. He noticed she was limping and that her free hand was cradling her stomach. He took the knife from her, put it in the bag slung around her back, then lifted her arm around his neck, using his other hand to sling around her frail waist.

"Let's get out of here," he responded, then helped her walk towards the exit of The Strip.

…

Eventually, Boone finally reached a small, abandoned, somewhat-dilapidated shack located a few minutes away from The Strip with a now-unconscious Courier in his arms. He wasn't sure how far away the New Vegas Medical Clinic is, so for now he'd have to make do with the little supplies they have.

He pulled her through what was left of the door, then attempted to kick it as closed as it could be. He looked around for a relatively clean spot to lay her down. Spotting a dingy little chair that was residing in the corner, he shifted Six in his arms in order to set her down. After he helped her settle into the chair, he looksed around the shack for anything of use. He found nothing but a full, unopened bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla.

Better than nothing.

Returning to Six, he finds that her eyes have opened. He huffed out a sigh of relief since he still wasn't completely aware of the extent of her wounds.

"Boone..." she murmured, and it was only now that Boone noticed how pale her skin had become. He kneeled next to her, then cracked open the bottle.

"Drink," he instructed, holding the bottle up to her lips.

The sniper continued to search as she gulped the warm soda down. Eventually, he spotted something shiny buried underneath a collapsed pile of mixed wood and debris. He knelt next to the pile of debris and reaches into it, lifting the splinters off before pushing them away. They fell off to reveal a small, rusted box. It was roughly the size of his palm, and after a quick examination of it, Boone determined that there's no way he'll be able to open it by himself.

After a few more inquires over its purpose, Boone simply tossed it to the side for now, deciding to worry about it later. He then lunged forward to grab Six's worn bag. The sniper fumbled with the zipper for a second, then pulled it open before he reached inside. Boone pulled out all of the medical supplies in the bag.

He looked up when Six gently drops the now-empty bottle on the ground next to her, gently handing its Cap to Boone, who tucked it into a pocket.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, zipping the backpack up.

"I was ambushed...serves me right..." she explained with a scowl.

He kneeled in front of her, putting his hands over hers before gently gripping them and moving them to the sides. He saw that the lower part of her shirt had been torn to shreds, blood staining the old fabric.

"Take it off," he instructed, blatantly avoiding her gaze.

"Gladly," she joked, voice cracking a bit as she raised her arms and shifting her gaze up to his heavy-set stature looming above her. He gently curled one of his hands around her bicep, pulling her frail arms through the sleeve before helping with the other side.

"God, you're impossible," he mumbled, tossing the article of clothing to the side.

She only smiled sadly in response as he examined her wound. It appeared she'd been shot; thankfully, the wound was relatively shallow. He was confident that he'd be able to get this under control in time.

At least, he hoped he could.

"Hold still," directed Boone as he opened the fairly-clean box of gauze, taking out a roll of gauze. Even with their low supply of Caps, the two still tried their best to have some medical supplies on hand in dire times like these.

He decided to leave the bullet be for now and let the doctors handle it later; removing foreign objects from the body was not his forté. Pressing a gauze pad to her wound, he watches as the blood seeps through the white before picking up the roll of gauze and weaving it around her torso until he uses the entire roll up.

"This'll work for now, but we should probably start heading towards the clinic," he stated, then eyed her nearly-bare chest. He tore his eyes away when he felt heat rising in his cheeks. His eyes landed on her ruined shirt. He finds a rolled-up spare in the bag, bringing it over her head and helping guide her arms through. It'd been one of his older ones. Instead of looking at her, he began picking up everything and tucking all of it away in her bag, throwing the rusted box inside with it before tugging the zipper closed. Slinging it on his back along with his rifle, he proceeded to slip his arm under her knees, the other going underneath her back.

"You don't have to carry me, Ba-Boone," she complained weakly.

"I know, but you shouldn't walk right now," the sniper replied, the finality evident in his deep tone.

"Fine," she mumbled, knowing better than to argue with him.

When Six was settled in his arms, he swept his gaze across the room once more. When he determined that the room is now free of any of their belongings, he continued onward with his journey.

…

"Six."

"Yeah...?"

He ignored the increasing strain of his worn-out muscles as he spoke to her, occasionally eyeing the Pip-Boy on her arm which had been draped across her lap in order to make sure he stayed on track.

"Talk to me. Give me the details of what happened."

"I...I walked into the Tops, and someone...asked me 'f I...'f I had any weapons. I said that I...wasn't armed, and then...then..."

"Six. Keep it going."

"He...let me in. I s-saw Benny in his...ch-checkered suit across the...c-casino..."

"Go on."

"H...he...when Benny saw me, he said: 'W...what in the goddamn-?' And then I...asked him to..."

His worriedness was multiplied by an infinity as he heard her soft voice begin to peter out.

"Six. Stay with me. We're almost there..." Boone pleaded as he tried to pick up his pace.

No response came from her as he hurried along the barren wastes.

...

Within a few minutes or so, Boone finally reached the New Vegas Medical Clinic. With burning muscles, he managed to kick the door open. Inside was a dark-haired woman whose eyes widened at the sight of the fallen Courier. The sniper didn't even have to open his mouth as the woman's expression hardened into something more serious.

"Follow me," she instructed, guiding him to one of the hospital beds, where Boone set Six down.

He adjusted her head so that it didn't lie down in an awkward position, brushing some of the hair out of her face. She was still breathing, thankfully.

The doctor hurriedly scurried around, picking up various medical supplies and rushing here and there. Boone debated on offering any help, but eventually decided it'd be best if he let the doctor do her thing.

"Sir, would you mind waiting outside? I'll need a bit of space to remove the bullet and patch her up properly. I'll come get you when I'm finished, and you may stay with her afterwards," she explained. Boone nodded and turned, arms folded as he trekked out without another word.

Settling down on a nearby bench, he dropped the backpack on the spot next to him. Tugging the zipper, he reached inside the old pack and pulled out the rusted box and Six's combat knife. He began slowly chipping away at its entrance, wishing his thoughts away.

He ended up able to pry open the box with a bit of halfhearted scraping. After he placed the knife down, he opened the box.

Inside, he found a charm. He picked it up, holding it between his forefinger and his thumb. It was an old bottlecap, one of the older designs belonging to Sunset Sarsaparilla. A loop of metal had been attached to its top, and there were remnants of string tied to it. It must have once been a necklace.

He tossed the ruined box to the side. This was right up Six's ally; she loved finding strange objects like this for some reason. Boone wondered if older things reminded her of something else.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentle creak of the door. The doctor stepped out.

"Sir, you may come rest with her if you like. I've removed the bullet and cleaned her wound thoroughly. She'll need to rest for a while, but she'll be fine. You two are welcome to stay here for as long as it takes."

Boone nodded, rising. "Thank you, Doctor..."

"Doctor Usanagi," she replied, smiling a bit. "and I'd recognize this infamous duo any day. Courier Six and the sniper."

Boone smirked, quite aware of the reputation he and Six created. "Thank you, Doctor Usanagi."

She nodded, then turned. "Please, come in."

…

She lay on the hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing soft and steady, skin pale. Boone's hat was gently clutched in her hand, which was resting on her chest.

"She refused to let go of that hat for some reason," Usanagi stated, standing by Boone.

"Did she wake up?" he inquired.

"Yes, but I put her right back to sleep. I'd rather not have my patients awake while I remove foreign objects."

Boone nodded in understanding, slinking by her side.

"Dammit, Six..." he muttered, taking her hand.

Usanagi chuckled from behind him. "Make yourselves at home. I'll be just outside if you need me."

"Alright. Thanks," he mumbled, pulling up a chair beside the courier.

"You're welcome," Usanagi responded before he heard her soft footsteps trek out of the room.

He stared at her sleeping form for a little while before leaning over in the chair and settling his head in his cradled arms, still gripping her hand. Both the physical and emotional exhaustion of today's events were overpowering the now-faint adrenaline rush he'd been experiencing.

He peeked one eye out at her. She'd shifted slightly, but still hadn't awakened. The hat was still clutched in her tight grip.

He shook his head affectionately. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that he wasn't going to get that damn hat back for a long time.

[whereismymindnow]

Shark (Troy Otto x OC)

I’ve really enjoyed rewatching FTWD lately, particularly S3 since Troy was such an interesting character that had so many complicated layers and I thought his relationship with Nick could have been explored so much more.

Anyway, this may not go anywhere, but here’s a one-shot or chapter one of a short fic for anyone that may be interested. I've not posted any fanfiction on Tumblr before so I'm fully prepared for it to flop haha! I do post on AO3 under the name Mikki19. :)

Song inspiration for the story: Plastic Heart by Ciscandra Nostalghia

This fic (if I expand on it on here) will have many dark elements due to Troy's mindset. Consider that your warning.

---

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen.

All of this trouble over some half-rotten fucking apples.

She’d been minding her own business, her hunger leading her to not take full account of her surroundings as she came across the nearly dead fruit tree. Flies buzzed around the apples that had dropped to the floor long ago, but she noticed 3 overly ripened orbs clinging for life on one of the higher branches. Given how she’d been unable to forage much lately, she was willing to try and take whatever bits of the apples were left.

Her nearly empty bag dropped to the ground as she carefully put one foot in a groove of the tree and hoisted herself up. Her vision was blurry and her head ached, but getting the browning fruits above remained her goal. With shaky limbs she scaled the tree until she could stretch up and touch the apples with her fingertips. She let out a groan of pain as she gave one last stretch and grabbed the branch that held her prize; a small shake had the little round globes dropping to the ground with a squelch making her grimace. Beggars can’t be choosers, she reminded herself.

She hadn’t been expecting to hear the rumble of an engine or the large soldiers that slowly sauntered out of the truck. She’d frozen like a cat being caught climbing something they shouldn’t have as one stepped forward. His brown curls and bright eyes gave the impression of innocence, but the shadow of calculation overcoming his face made her realise how fucked she was.

Harper unsteadily slid down the tree and noticed how her bag – that had very little inside it apart from an empty bottle, a Swiss Army knife, a torn and distressed picture of her brother, and the collar of her dog that had defended her until the end – was closer to the man than to her. With a sharklike smile he picked up the bag and threw it behind him for one of his friends to rifle through and cocked his head to the side in wonder as to what her next move would be.

She heard him laugh as she dived behind the tree and ran as fast as she could to the building nearby. A loud scream left her as a corpse immediately launched itself at her as she burst through the door; its teeth were so close to her that she could feel a few strands of hair be ripped from her scalp as it snapped its jaws. She kept an arm pushing across its chest as she frantically ripped her pocketknife from her boot, flipped it open and sent the blade through the walker’s skull. The body dropped to the filthy floor, sending a cloud of grey dust into the air that made her choke. Harper turned her head and saw the soldier slowly making his way to the building she’d just entered.

So, here she was. Trapped like a mouse as the cat prowled around looking for its next meal. She slowed her breathing as much as she could and huddled under the abandoned desk; her hand held a strong grip on the knife but she could already feel her body shaking in exhaustion. She hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than a few hours for days since her camp got overrun by a hoard of the dead. She wasn’t ready for a fight. She knew that this was only going to go one way judging by the firepower that these men had and how clean and well-fed they looked. With any luck she could lose or injure the guy in the building and run out through a back exit.

“You know, I don’t want to hurt you. People always look at me like a monster, but I’m not. If you come out, there doesn’t have to be a struggle.” Harper could hear him in the corridor outside of the abandoned office she’d dived into. The way he sounded so chilled, almost bored or uninterested, made her want to deliver a swift kick to his smug face.

She’d always been a fighter. When the kid in 9th grade pushed her to the floor and laughed, she’d got up just as quick and head-butted him without a thought. When Sophia had looked at her brown curls with a sneer, she’d quickly pulled on the blonde locks until the girl begged for mercy. Of course, her spitfire nature came with consequences. She’d found that out pretty quick when her father started to use a firmer, more brutal hand in order to get her to comply, and her mother had pulled her out of school and begun to slip light sedatives in her food. They were afraid of her, she knew that. They were afraid she’d inherited that rage that had sent her grandmother into a mental hospital at the age of 39 until she died in a medication induced coma at 46. It wasn’t until her brother died when she was 18 that things began to change. Her fire had been reduced to nothing and she walked around the house like one of the dead even before they’d started to rise. Malachi had been her rock. He’d been the only one to believe in her and used that anger that burned within her belly to train her how to wrestle. She soon grew hungry for the sport and had aspired to join the independent wrestling scene as soon as she could break away from her parents. Malachi’s death had changed all of that though. The once bright-eyed girl had been reduced to a withered husk. The fire within had been extinguished and the thought of fighting made her feel nauseous. Her parents had been quite relieved; they’d have rather have her broken than be the monster they were sure she’d have turned into. From then on she’d been a shadow of her former self; she spent most of her days sleeping or pretending to listen to her mother prattle on about one thing or another whilst her father went to work.

She could feel that familiar ache in her chest. She wanted to get up and fight, but her legs felt like jelly and her head was about ready to explode. So, she waited. Her eyes clenched shut as the door to the office slowly closed. She heard the thud of a gun being put on the table near the door and the heavy footsteps of army boots make their way across the room.

“I know you’re under there.” A squeak left her mouth as two large hands slammed down on top of the desk. “Won’t you come out? You don’t even know what I have to offer to you. Those apples you were so desperately reaching for? I can give you a whole basket full… if you just come out.” He made it sound so goddamn easy and simple. “I said: come out!” The sudden anger in his voice made her gulp and slowly stand. Her green eyes met his; despite the anger that had been in his voice, his face was blank as he drank the sight of her in.

Her cropped top was torn and covered in blood, her shorts were dirty and her boots were worn. She was clinging to life by a thread and they both knew it. Her 5’7” stature was dwarfed by his large 6’1” body. He could tell she had been quite fit and muscular before all of this, but poor nutrition had left her looking withered and underdeveloped. He could easily see her ribs and hipbones from where she stood. She was completely filthy and he noted bruises and scratches on her legs from where she had been running wild for who knows how long. It was her eyes that got him the most; he’d seen those eyes before, he saw that same determination and anger every time he looked at his own reflection. She didn’t want to give up, but she was so tired. Her body wobbled in place and she sucked her chapped bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep the sob that was building at bay.

“Come here.” When she made no effort to move Troy quickly reached forwards, grabbed her by the neck and lifted her over the desk so that she was in front of him. He laughed as his free hand quickly caught her wrist as she sluggishly tried to get him with her knife. “Drop it.” Troy murmured softly.

“No.” Her voice cracked from lack of use. “No.” A heavy sigh left his mouth before he tightened his grip until he could feel her ligaments and bones creak under his grasp. “Agh!” Her other hand came to claw at his fingers desperately as she felt like her wrist would break.

“Drop. It.” He hissed with no intention of loosening his hold until she complied like a good girl. The knife fell with a clatter as she swallowed down her pride and submitted. Immediately his once vicelike grip turned into a soft hold and he allowed his thumb to carefully rub the already bruising skin. “Do you see what you made me do?” He spoke like he was talking to a child. “I’m not a bad person. You just need to listen to me.” Troy watched as her face crumpled and she stared at her feet. He was so used to looking at people like an experiment that he was shocked to find his mind wasn’t trying to work out how long it would take this weakened girl to turn. He looked at her in wonder instead. He could tell that she was broken inside. It was easy to see as the swell of defiance was in her gaze but it was overpowered by the lost look. She needed someone to lead her. She needed direction… purpose… He’d give it to her. He could see her at the ranch with him. She’d be in the living area waiting for him to return from a hunt with a smile on her face and no shoes on her feet. She wouldn’t need shoes; shoes were only necessary for people going outside. He was all she would need. She would be his.

Harper carefully looked up at the soldier and blinked as she saw the concentration in them. “Who are you?”

“My name is Troy. Yours?”

“H-Harper.”

“Where are you from?”

“England… originally. We moved to the States after my brother died… too many memories at home.”

“How’d your brother die? Was he sick?” His head snapped to the side as her hand came up and connected with his cheek. Harper was breathless from the exertion but the carelessness in which he talked about her brother made her blood boil. Malachi was a subject not meant to be touched. “Hm… wrong move.” Troy’s grip tightened once again on her wrist as he spun her around, pushed her front onto the desk and pulled her limb until an aching pain grew in her shoulder from the angle. He used his own body to hover over her so that she couldn’t straighten up. “Apologise.” He wedged his legs between hers as she started to flail and kick out in order to avoid the low blow that she was aiming to deliver; his hips stayed firm against the back of her thighs despite the movements she was making. A deep groan left his mouth as her actions awakened the primal urge within him that told him to claim her. Harper suddenly stilled as she felt a heavy, hard length begin to grow against her ass. “Apologise.” He simply repeated, suddenly breathless as his body buzzed from the stimulation. He wasn’t used to this reaction. Sure, he could see pretty girls from those that would probably be a last pick, but he’d never felt this need to claim before. He’d had sex before, meaningless and ultimately disappointing sex with girls that had wanted to get closer to his perfect brother or had wanted a better standing within the ranch and chosen the somewhat vulnerable youngest Otto to try and make that happen, but this felt like more than just an urge to find his way into the warmth between her legs. This felt like something he needed; like the blood in his veins and the air that he breathed. She felt like a piece of the puzzle that would fit perfectly into place and make him feel that little bit more whole.

Harper could feel his hot breath shakily release against the back of her head and shuddered. “I- I am sorry.” She whispered gently in an attempt to appease the unpredictable man behind her. She felt him slowly release her wrist but he made no motion to move away from her. Her back tensed as his hands slowly went to her sides and gripped her hips. He stayed still for a moment, almost as though he was using his hold on her body to ground himself, before stepping back with a low chuckle.

“Good girl. You’re learning already.” Troy leant down and grabbed her knife, a knowing look in his eye as he pocketed it for himself before pulling something else out of his jacket. A thin strip of plastic was in his grasp. “Put your wrists out and together.” Harper exhaled as she looked at the cable tie. Exhaustion was defeating her and he’d taken what little energy she had left. Her body was propped up by the table behind her and she knew if she stepped away then her legs were likely to collapse.

“Where are you going to take me?” She asked softly understanding that she had no way out of this in her current state.

“Back to base. It’s safe there.” Troy stated proudly as though he was saving her and not taking her against her will. “Do you understand? I’m going to keep you safe. I’ll feed you and get you clean so I can see exactly what is under all of this filth.” Harper’s mouth watered at the thought of food and a shower. Her basic human needs screamed at her to obey as she shakily held out her hands to him. He carefully looped the plastic around her wrists and tightened it until she winced; only stopping when her eyes looked into his pleading for some form of mercy. “Are you thankful?” Harper gave a shaky nod under his intense stare that seemed to strip her naked and glare into her soul. “Use your words.”

Harper swallowed down her bile as he raised his brow expectantly. “Yes… thank you, Troy.” His grin was the last thing she saw before her body finally gave up and she dropped to the cold ground unconscious.

---

You look for me Inside the dark I am the ocean You are the shark You hunt me like Your last goodbye Oh fallen angel Of the night

---Plastic Heart by Ciscandra Nostalghia---

[mychemicalficrecs]

Hi so I've read 2 my chem sports AUs recently (All We Need Is Daylight by Helena_Hathaway and Getting the Gold by frankiesin) and I loved them surprisingly a lot because My Chemical Romance and various sports are not something you'd expect go together. I'm wondering if you know of any other sports AUs?

Hi Nonny!

There's a few Sports AUs I know and if you don't mind High School Sports AUs, there's quite a few of those as well!

Sports AUs

All We Need is Daylight by Helena_Hathaway, Frank/Gerard, 240k [WIP], Explicit. Frank is thrust all too suddenly into a new life, one where he's not warmly welcomed. He's the best goddamn hockey player he knows, though, and he's not going to let anyone take that away from him. Or at least, not until his world comes tumbling down.

Getting the Gold by frankiesin, Mikey/Pete, 9k, General Audiences. It's Mikey's first time as an Olympic coach, and he's navigating the new role pretty well until he meets the men's swim coach. Pete's gorgeous, funny, and entertaining as hell, but Mikey's pretty sure he's already got a boyfriend. Also featuring Mikey and Lindsey being Super Bros, and way too many baby athletes in need of supervision.

you wanna get it for free by akamine_chan, Ray/Mikey, 2k, Explicit. Ray's a wrestler, you see...

Pages In Your Passport by inlovewithnight, Mikey/Pete, 15k, Explicit. Pete pursued soccer instead of music. He has a good long run in the game. Then in 2010, he meets this guy in a band.

The Circuit by stoplightglow, Frank/Gerard, 24k, Teen And Up Audiences. In the world of competitive motorcycle racing, nothing is more prestigious than the Grand Circuit Tour. Americans everywhere gather to watch as the twelve best racers in the nation compete for the title of Circuit Champion and $100,000. Gerard Way is no stranger to the race. When he was a teenager, his name was practically legend - but after disappearing without explanation six years ago, he's become little more than a relic of the past. Now, at age twenty-six, Gerard is back on the Circuit with something to prove. It's Frank Iero's first year on the tour, but he's more than ready. No one has seen a kid blast through the ranks so fast since Gerard Way first appeared on the scene a decade ago. With a cocky attitude and the whole country swooning over him, nothing can slow him down. The stakes have never been so high. Welcome to the Fourteenth Annual Grand Circuit Tour.

Down And Dirty by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Explicit. Gerard's own beloved cherry-red Harley has pedigree in fucking spades, sure, but she's seen better days, and she just doesn't have the power to outrun Iero and that revolting custom paint job. The matching helmet painted to look like a jack-o-lantern is just too much. An AU wherein the boys are dirty bikers, inspired by the recently-released photos from the Japanese Rolling Stone shoot.

shut up and drive by Trojie, uglowian, Patrick/Mikey/Pete, 139k, Teen And Up Audiences. Pete Wentz is the grid girl, Andy Hurley loves him (not like that), and Jared Leto is the bad guy. A.K.A.: the bandom The Fast and the Furious AU that literally no one asked for.

Another Cog In The Murder Machine by ace_writez, Ray/Mikey, 3k [WIP], General Audiences. Mikey's life is set. He's going to get a basketball scholarship for university and then play in the big leagues. All he has to do is get team captain his last year of high school. But he runs into some competition when another good player also tries out. Suddenly he's not so sure he's going to make it. Ray is also trying for a scholarship. As the star quarterback of Belleville High for three years, he's gunning for a fourth. When a situation at home suddenly drags him down, and a certain boy at school catches his eye, he finds himself at a crossroads. Two boys. Two sports. One school, and one story.

Day Seven: Half Dressed - Frerard by LeatherlipsIero, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Mature. Frank reached out his hand for the stranger to shake, "I'm Frank, let me buy you a drink as an apology?" He smiled again when the stranger grabbed his strong and callused hand with his own soft one. "Thank you, but it's my fault, honestly." The strange and pretty man tried to explain but Frank didn't care. "I insist." He said and sent the beautiful stranger a half smirk with half-lidded bedroom eyes, which had the poor boy blushing in seconds. Score.

Olympians by krissykane, Frank/Gerard, 3k, General Audiences. Frank is a shooter who has (somehow) made it to his second Olympic games. There he joins the crowd at a fencing event and sees a certain Team USA fencer for the first time.

Take One For The Team (Excuse Me If I'm Rude) by frenchpirate (Whiskey_n_speed), Mikey/Pete, 25k, Explicit. “So, your coach,” Gabe started, change of subject, thank god. “Yeah, what about him?” Mikey asked and glanced over at Pete who was heading towards the coach locker rooms, dragging a net of footballs after him. “You never told me he was hot. I’m pretty sure that’s withholding indispensable information. I should’ve signed up for the soccer team.” He said halfway jokingly, and William scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, he’s not-“ “He so is. He’s like totally – small and handy,” He made a smooth explanatory hand-motion. “I want to fit him in my pocket.” * (Or; twenty eight scenes about skipping school, douchebag friends, post-college parties and way too much soccer)

Boxer!Fic by iamdali, Frank/Gerard, 47k, Explicit, General Audiences. After med school, Gerard had this idea of what life would be like. The idea now probably seems more than ridiculous, but still it’s what he clung to in order to drag himself through those gruelling morning hours after an all nighter of studying or writing some preposterously long paper on some disease or medical break through or why whatever part of the human body does whatever it does, and what happens when it doesn’t.

It's Not A Side Effect Of The Triple Axel (I'm Thinking It Must Be Love) by mizubyte (b_dsaint), Mikey/Pete, 10k, Teen And Up Audiences. If not for Alicia, Mikey never would have stepped on to the ice, let alone become a figure skater. Now, over 15 years later, Vancouver is Mikey's last chance for Olympic Gold. If he doesn't get distracted by snowboarder Pete Wentz, that is.

If The Skates Don't Fit by halfeatenmoon, Lindsey/Gerard, 12k, Teen And Up Audiences. Lyn-Z thought her rollerderby team might have a chance of winning some games this year, until she discovered that the new girl she'd recruited to the team was actually a man named Gerard. With a week to go until the first match against their long-time rivals, the Cobras, Lyn-Z and her teammates instead steal one of the Cobras' players - Maja, who has been feeling underappreciated since her side was joined by a new star. Maja's a great player, but it's a challange to learn to skate with a new teammate with only a week to go, especially when she still has some unresolved issues with her old captain.

Split lips hurt by toxic_fox, Frank/Gerard, 769 words, Teen And Up Audiences. Every Thursday, at six o’ clock sharp, frank goes boxing. He loves the adrenaline, the rush he gets from fighting, the blood, the pain. He kind of likes the kind medic as well.

Uppercut by mcrhomo, Frank/Gerard, 3k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Frank is dealing with a lot in his life, including body dysmorphia. When he signs up for a boxing class to lose weight, he meets Gerard, and his whole life is turned several different ways (for better and for worse).

I Believe You're The Enemy (Game On) by imanemostan, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Mature. Constant affairs kept secret by frank and gerard, on different laser tag teams playing against each other. weirdly enough, both their schools have an official laser tag team. How will they ever be able to keep this a secret?

I Just Want You by Bridgetti, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Frank teaches Gerard to skate.

It's All In the Game by happilysurviving (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, 46k [WIP], Mature. Even jocks have issues. Especially the closeted ones who have friends they have to kick off their football teams. And it gets even worse when they have to kick them off because of a homophobic coach. But of course that's only the beginning as this is Dan Howell and he always has to have larger problems on top of the ones everyone else would believe to be impossible to handle. Having Frank as his best friend certainly doesn't help or the head gossip guru in town as his mother but it could be worse, right? I mean he could be in love with an opposing team's quarterback... Oh wait.

Frerard Football Team AU For Which I Could Not Think of a Title by franks_hands, Frank/Gerard, 5k, Teen And Up Audiences. In the locker room and at practices, Frank was noisy, bordering on obnoxious. He seemed to bounce off the walls sometimes. He didn’t know about personal space.

of cute boys and rollerskates by etselec, Mikey/Pete, 1k, General Audiences. “I’m teaching you how to skate,” Mikey nearly fell as he removed Pete’s arms away from him. He squeezed his hand instead, “so our next date it won’t be as awkward.” “Date?” Pete asked. “Well, we’re holding hands already, aren’t we?” Mikey smiled at him.

Hand in Mine, Into Your Icy Blues by sundrowned, Frank/Gerard, 28k, General Audiences. Gerard is the captain of the hockey team and his overbearing father is the coach. When a new boy named Frank joins the team, Gerard has to decide weather to follow his father's orders to stay away from the boy or choose his own path.

Skating In A Ttutu by runaway_killjoy, Frank/Gerard, 51k, Teens And Up Audiences, Explicit. Frank has to move towns with his mom. He's disheartened to realize that teenagers are judgemental and manipulative no matter where you go. And no one gets judged quite as bad as the ballerina/skater boy who isn't even 5ft. Skater boy AU prompt, Frerard

Powderpuff by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. It isn't like Frank's opposed to powderpuff football. The timing's just kind of bad.

Get Up And Go by inlovewithnight, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. Mikey Way: Ultramarathon Runner.