#dagger writes

[warpedpuppeteer]

Here's the latest Buddie WIP I've started based on a tweet I made about an accidental pregnancy a/b/o au (you can find more info about it at the bottom of the post)

“Go for Buck!” “Oh thank god, Buck I really need you to-” “Kidding! Sorry, If you're getting this I'm probably at work, please leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. If it's an emergency call 911!” And then there's a loud beep. Eddie hangs up and wants to throw the phone at the mirror where he can see his haunted reflection. Instead he takes a deep breath; it's shaky but that's all he can do right now. He leaves everything as it is in the bathroom because the last thing he wants to do right now is spend a second more in there. You're okay, he tells himself. The slam of the bathroom door rattles the framed artwork on the wall. You're okay, he tells himself again and walks past the now crooked artwork. You're okay, he chants, knowing well enough that he's not. He distracts himself by picking up Chris and listening to him talk about his day before dropping him off at Tia Pepa's for the night. Chris is a bit confused, but Eddie tells him that he has an appointment that will run late. Pepa gives him a questioning look but he simply shakes his head at her and she drops it. He drives to the grocery store next and buys a few things they're running out of at home and tries not to throw up at the sight of a mother and her twin toddlers doing their shopping together. He goes home, puts all of the things he bought away and starts prepping for dinner. Then he cleans the house thoroughly. Twice. Everywhere except the bathroom of course; that door remains tightly shut till further notice. In fact, he's pretending it doesn't exist at all.

Based on this tweet

For those who don't use Twitter:

You can also find this wip tweet here

[writers-potion]

Writing Weapons (2): Knives and Daggers

Dagger vs. Sword

In many situations, daggers might be more plausible than a sword fight.

Dagger are eaiser to carry and conceal, lighter, faster, good for spontaneous action, suicide bids, self-defense and assassination.

Dagger vs. Knife

No clear distinction; terms used interchangeably

Dagger is more for thrusting with 2 sharp edges

Knife is more for cutting (slashing) with 1 sharp edge

Concealment

Carried in a leather sheath on the belt

Can be concealed under a cloak, in a bodice (sheath sewn into the bodice), in a boot, behind hari ornaments

Bodice daggers (popular in the Renaissance) had no cross guards.

Connotations

Beside its combat value, the dagger has lots of emotional and sexual symbolisms.

The closeness need to attack with a dagger creates intense personal connection. They are often used in fights where emotions are running high: gang warfare, hate crime, vengeance.

Due to its shape and the fact that it's usually worn on a belt made it a symbol of virility in many cultures and periods.

Sometimes it was the hilt rather than the blade: like in the case of bollocks daggers with two...balls on either side of the hilt.

Fighting Techniques

Stabbing:-

The dagger with long, thin blades are made to stab a vital organ like the kidneys, liver, bowel, stomach or heart.

Stabbing directly at the chest seldom works, since the blde may glance off the ribs. Position the dagger below the ribcage and drive it upwards, through the diaphragm and into the lungs. If the sword is long enough and your fighter is a professional, you can get to the heart.

If no professional, just keep going for the stomach and you'll get one of the vital organs eventually.

Slashing:-

When describing a slash wound, show a lot of blood streaming, or even spurting.

Slashing dagger fights are bloody - show your MC's hands getting slick with blood, grip on the weapon slipping.

The aim is to cut the opponent's throat or cut tendoms, muscles, or ligaments to disable. Slashing the muscles in the weapon-wielding arm is the most effective; insides of the writst or back of the knee is also critical.

Assassinations:-

Show good knowledge of the humna antatomy

Use a stabbing dagger

A single, determined, calculated and efficient stroke, probably below the ribs.

Self-Defense:-

Disable the attacker by slashing their weapon-wielding hand (elbow or wrist)

Quick, multiple stabs wherever the MC can get the blade to land; the attacker won't give time for careful positioning

If the blade is too short to do any significant damage, maek up for this by stabbing so ast that the pain and blood loss distracts the opponent.

Vegeance and Hatred:-

Someone who is motivated by raging emotions will stab the victim repeatedly, even after he is already dead.

The attacker may stab or salsh the victim's face, disfiguring it.

Contemporary street fights and gang warfare usually involves these.

Duels:-

If both fighters are armed with daggers, include wrestling-type moves as they try to restrict each other's weapon hand.

Show them trying to disable each other by slashing insides of writes, elbows, the back of the knees, etc.

Dagger + Sword

If the character is expecting a fight, they can hold a sword in their right hand, and a dagger in their left to fight with both

Sword + mace combination also common.

Blunders to Avoid:

Direct stabbing at the chest wouldn't work.

Hero cannot cut his bread with a stabbing sword

adapted from <Writer's Craft> by Rayne Hall

[kcsplace]

They'd barely stepped off their transport back at Fightertown when the snarled word pulled the Daggers up short

"YOU!"

As one the thirteen of them turned on their heel and immediately twelve duffles hit the tarmac and twelve arms shot up into sharp salutes.

Only Maverick stood unfazed as he took in the sight of Iceman walking slowly towards them. Even out of uniform, and back in a battle against his own body, he was a commanding presence, and cancer or no, he was still COMPACFLT.

Instead of saluting, Maverick, pointed at his own chest.

"Me?"

But this time Ice wasn't talking to him. Wasn't even looking at him. It took Mav a moment, but as he watched Ice approach, he realised the man's target and took a sharp step to the side, smirking as Phoenix, did so herself, leaving Rooster an island between them.

Frozen to the spot, Rooster could do nothing but watch his boss', boss', boss step toe to toe with him. He could only imagine the shit he was in. Disobeying direct orders, losing a multi-million dollar plane, endangering Hangman who'd been scrambled as extra cover, maybe even potentially grand theft aviation from a hostile power....was that a thing?? Oh god, was that a thing??!!?!?!

But the Admiral didn't say a word, just threw his arms around him and held him so tight Rooster's already abused ribs and spine could only complain further. Not that he'd mention it, even when tears blurred his vision from the pain. Once he started to breathe again, he could feel the faint tremor running through the older man's body, and he knew it had less to do with the illness that was rumoured on base to have returned, and more to do with the smirk he could see on Maverick's face over the mans shoulder. A smirk that looked suspiciously like one worn by a man in love.

Hesitantly, Rooster wrapped his arms around his superior officer, and held on just as tight.

"You're welcome."

[butchbradshaw]

“So, you told him you were gay.”

Jake nods.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Javy,” comes Nat’s voice from in front of the dartboard. Bob hands her another dart, and she tosses it at the wall.

“I never said there was!” says Javy defensively. 

They’re drinking at the Hard Deck, something of a send-off before their collective two-week leave. A leave that, unfortunately, falls directly on Jake’s high school reunion. Apparently, being a hero means everything begins to fall into unfortunate place.

Javy takes another sip of his beer. “What’s the wrong part, then?” asks Fanboy, sitting next to him. 

“He assumed I had a boyfriend,” Jake sighs.

“And you had to awkwardly correct him, and he thinks it’s going to be weird that you’re the only one there without a partner,” says Javy.

Jake purses his lips.

“You did correct him, didn’t you?” the other man asks, slowly looking up from his beer.

Jake is silent. 

“Seresin. Tell me you corrected him.”

Jake covers his face with his hands, his confident demeanour all but destroyed by that fateful conversation. “I didn’t know what else to say! He was talking so fast, and he was so excited, and I’m—”

“—painfully single and embarrassed by it,” finishes Fanboy.

“I wouldn’t say painful. Or single,” adds Javy. “Embarrassed, yes.”

Jake glares at the both of them. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m… waiting.”

“Yeah, waiting with your legs wide open,” calls Nat. Bob sputters next to her.

“Don’t slut-shame me, Trace,” Jake says, pointing a finger at her.

“Stating a fact isn’t slut-shaming. You’re not exactly closed for business,” Nat points out. 

Bob shrugs. “He’s right, Nat. It’s not very feminist to talk about how the guys Jake chooses to bring home. Or how many of them there are.”

“Wise choice, mansplaining feminism to the female pilot holding a dart,” says Nat, pointing the projectile at Bob’s chest. He raises his arms in surrender, and she flicks it at the target.

“What’s this about mansplaining? I thought that was Hangman’s department,” comes a voice from the doorway.

And there’s Rooster, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, a shining grin plastered on his face. He’s next to Jake in an instant, taking the empty seat beside him. “Or is Bob usurping your role?”

“Can it, Bradshaw,” Jake says. “I’m no misogynist.”

“That was just the repressed homosexuality talking,” adds Nat.

Jake shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

[teddy06writes]

Our House Is A Very Very Very Fine House

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x gn!reader

Prompt: Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Trigger Warnings: None <3

Summary: After a quiet morning spent together, the Dagger Squad helps you and Bob celebrate finally moving into the new house

{Playlist that kinda fits the vibe I'm going for here}

Warm morning light was already starting to filter through the half open blinds, rousing you slightly, when you felt your husband slip softly out of bed.

Reaching out to chase his warmth, you grumbled sleepily, barley cracking open your eyes, "Where're you goin'?"

Bob tangled his hand with your gently, a chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to your temple, "To fix us some coffee, darlin'."

"How did I get so lucky?" You grinned, blinking up at Bob's sunlight dappled face.

"Been askin' myself that all morning." He whispered, leaning in again to meet you for another, longer kiss.

After a few long minutes where it seemed like you might almost be successful in luring him back into bed, he finally disentangled himself, padding out of the bedroom, with the promise of coffee. You watch him disappear down the hall, before turning to look around the newly furnished master bedroom with a satisfied sigh.

~~

You had officially moved into the new house two days ago, and what a chaotic day move in had been. Somehow between all twelve of the daggers, two of their commanding officers, and Jake, Brigham, and Ruben's trucks, everything from the old apartment, as well as your storage unit, had made it to the house by noon. The rest of the day had been utter chaos as the aviators moved around furniture, sorted boxes, and did their best to unpack helpfully.

At one point, sensing the anxiety on both of your faces, Natasha had all but dragged you and Bob out of the house, sending you on a trip to pick up anything you had forgotten, and promising that they had everything handled.

When you two had returned to the house an hour later, every car but her old wrangler had disappeared, and she sat with Callie on the front porch in the patio furniture they had assembled, discussing plans for the following weekend.

Natasha had grinned as you came back up the walkway, explaining that she had sent the rest of the guys away, and that she and Callie had undone whatever messes they had made in the meantime.

~~~

When the smell of coffee began to float through the house, you finally managed to tug yourself out of bed, padding down the hall toward the kitchen. Pausing at the end of the hall, you drank in the sight of Bob moving around the kitchen, setting out coffee mugs beside the humming machine, before moving back to pouring pancake mix into the pan already settled on the stove.

It was as easy as breathing to move across the floor and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, "Morning, Bobby."

"There you are," You could hear the smile in his voice, and he reached down to squeeze your hand with his free one, "Coffee should be ready in a second."

You humed absently, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before pulling away and beginning to assemble a plate of fruit, and other pancake fixings. When the coffee pot had filled, you quickly fixed Bob's mug the way he liked it, sliding it along the counter to him before making your own.

A few minutes later, after the pancakes had come off of the stove, you found yourself seated across from Bob at the breakfast nook, discussing your plans for the day.

"Javy said he'd bring over things for the grill, so we're all set on that front," Bob took a swig from his mug, glancing up at you, "But if you're still making that pasta salad we'll need to hit the store eventually."

You nodded, hooking your ankle around his under the table, "Well I'm sure if we take inventory, we're gonna realize there's other stuff we still need. We can go in an hour or two and still have some time before everyone gets here."

Bob hummed in agreement, and a quiet, comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. Outside, a breeze ruffled through the leaves on the trees that lined the far end of the backyard, the windchimes Billy and Neil had hung proudly at the corner of the house singing merrily.

~~~

Yesterday had been spent, first cleaning up and reorganizing from the chaos of moving day, and then continuing to unpack and settle into the rest of the house. While Bob had finished hanging photos and organizing the bookshelves in the living room, you sorted dishes into their proper places in the kitchen, singing along to your shared playlist and pausing to admire each others work every now and again.

It wasn't quite perfect yet, there were still some things here and there that needed a new coat of paint, and you would have to wait until the following weekend to begin planting in the flower boxes that lines the windows, but it felt perfect all the same. That night, you had tucked yourself into Bob's side on the sofa, looking around like you still couldn't quite believe it.

Bob had smiled sweetly, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss, "Welcome home, baby."

~~~

A few hours later, you found yourself in the grocery store, winding your way through the isles as Bob followed behind with a cart, reminding you of the list as you went.

As you stood, debating between pasta shapes, Bob leaned against the cart, a small, fond smile on his face.

"-cause the cavatappi comes in a bigger box, so we'd only need two, but Mickey always claims that bowtie 'holds the flavors better'..." You turned toward your husband, trailing off when you spotted the look on his face, "What? Am i overthinking it? What's going on?"

"Maybe a little," He admitted with a chuckle, reaching up to push his glasses farther up his nose, "I'm just- happy."

"Because I've been holding us up in the pasta isle for ten minutes with my indecisiveness?" You raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh of your own.

"Because we're grocery shopping. Because it's you I get to be grocery shopping with. Because I get to hold a housewarming party with you. That I get to listen to you debate over pasta shapes," He grinned, moving around the cart to wrap an arm around your waist, his hand, warm and sturdy against your side, "Cause I'm so lucky that this gets to be the rest of my life."

You couldn't help but smile into the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips, "You sweet thing... I love you too, Bobby."

The two of you stood there, lost in your own world for a few long moments before someone walking past cleared their throat, loudly, rousing you from whatever trance you had gone into. Bob glanced down at the floor, red tinting his cheeks as you laughed.

~~~

At home, as you put away the last of the groceries, Bob was busy arranging the flowers he had managed to purchase and get almost all the way back to the house without your knowing.

The endless stream of jokes from Jake and Javy about your husbands stealth pilot abilities really hadn't prepared you for just how secretive the man could be. It seemed he was nearly constantly cooking up some sort of simple surprise for you, be it sneaking away from you while grocery shopping to get flowers, or bringing home a book you had added to your TBR but could have sworn you hadn't mentioned.

As you folded the last grocery bag, Bob placed the vase of wildflowers on the kitchen island in front of you, "What do you think?"

"Their gorgeous, Bobby," You gripped his hand over the counter, "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," He grinned, before leaning over conspiratorially to whisper, "Plus, I may or may not have heard that Jake's going to bring you flowers, and I can't have him out doing me, can I?"

"Well that's a shame, I was figuring all it would take for him to steal me away from you was one cliche red rose bouquet." You teased, giggling at the look Bob shot you in response.

You rocked forward to press a kiss to the tip of his nose in apology before straightening and moving to pull a pot from the cabinet, "Well, I'd better start on that pasta, or we'll never be eating."

"You need any help?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Start on the veggie board for me?" You asked, glancing back over your shoulder at him.

He smiled, already moving to get a cutting board, "Course."

~~~ The sound of a car pulling in the driveway, followed by chattering voices and a knock at the door sounded just a few minutes after you'd deposited the finished pasta salad into the fridge to chill.

You pulled away from Bob with a chuckle, "You ready?"

"As much as I can be, with these guys." He quipped, tangling his fingers with yours as he followed you toward the door.

Almost as soon as the door was open, Natasha was barging in, the crockpot in her hands held aloft, "I come bearing buffalo chicken dip!"

Behind her, Callie, Mickey, Ruben and Neil shuffled in off the porch, each carrying various other contributions to the cookout/potluck, and asking where they should be put.

It didn't take long for the whole house to fill with noise as the rest of the daggers appeared, spilling out into the backyard as Javy started up the grill. As the counters grew fuller with dishes to pass, Jake appeared with the promised bouquet of roses, which naturally, paled in comparison to the wildflowers already adorning the center island.

"Always have to one up me, don't you Bob?" Jake sighed dramatically.

Bob grinned triumphantly, slinging his arm around your waist and pulling you in, "Well, someone's got to put you in your place, Bagman."

He threw his hand over his heart, "Bobert how dare you?! I'm crushed!"

Bradley patted his shoulder in mock sympathy, herding him out towards the patio, "One day you'll manage to actually pull someone, Hangman."

The next knock at the door revealed Pete and Tom, who you quickly ushered in, "Thank you both so much for coming."

"Of course kiddo, we're happy to be here," Pete handed you the bottle of wine he carried, "Here, Ice picked it out, I have no sense for good wine."

"Consider it an apology for leaving you stranded amid a sea of aviators who can barley follow instructions on a regular day, let alone on moving day." Tom grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You smiled back, leading them through to the kitchen, "I appreciate that, sir."

Pete got one glimpse of whatever was going on in the backyard, and made a beeline for the door, already calling for Javy to surrender the grill, leaving you alone with the admiral as he looked around the newly decorated kitchen.

"Well, I must say, you've done a wonderful job with the place." He said.

"Thank you sir."

Tom chuckled, leaning back against the counter, "You can just call me Tom, okay? How's it feel, finally moving into your first house?"

"It was a little scary, at first. Between taking out the loans and moving in... it was a lot," You glanced around the kitchen, landing on the vase of wildflowers, before turning to look out the door, eyes finding Bob easily amid the crowd of other aviators, "But I'm glad we made it here. I can't think of anyone I'd rather make a home with."

Tom's eyes followed you own out the door, finding Pete where he was now forcibly giving Javy pointers, "I understand the feeling."

~~~

Later as everyone squeezed around the long dining room table, you cleared your throat, grabbing your glass and standing, "Excuse me, everyone, I'd like to say a few things before we really dig in here."

Bob squeezed your hand from where he sat at your side, two chairs splitting the head of the table.

"I just wanted to say thank you to you all, for being here today, and for helping us move in. I know it was a bit of a struggle, but we got there in the end," Your eyes roamed the room as you spoke, before dropping back to your husband at your side, "But more importantly, I'd like to thank you, Bobby, for taking on this incredible journey of making a home with me. I'm so happy that this gets to be the rest of my life. Cheers!"

As everyone around the table chorused, "Cheers!" And the room was filled with the sound of excited chatter and clinking glasses, you sat, eyes fixed only on Bob.

He raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles, "I love you too, darlin'."

~~~ Enjoy this fic? Support me on kofi :)

[bossuary]

So, the companions each have their dialogue with Solas as you make the endgame push to confront Elgar'nan.

But I...see, I have a question about whether or not that's the first time any of them interact with him after Tearstone. Does the game make it clear where Solas emerges when he escapes from the regret prison? Because if he comes out where Rook went IN...hooboy.

Rook gets blasted into the I've Made a Huge Mistake Museum. Solas takes the dagger from them and cuts his way back into the world. Does Solas come out...like...right there where Rook got zapped?

Because I am dying for that scene.

Really just NEED TO KNOW what the companions say to Captain Inevitable Betrayal when he pops out of the Fade without Rook.

As Solas strides past whoever is left on Tearstone Island, giving the corpse of Ghilan'nain one of his patented Sad Smiles...

Does Taash take a flaming berserker run at him? Nevermind getting swatted away, just rolling back up onto their feet, smoke billowing.

Does Emmrich set his jaw against incivility, swallowing the thousand forbidden curses he has called to mind in favor of a reasonable greeting or question?

Does Harding crackle with an unyielding blue power as she lifts a wall of stone in his way, demanding answers as a titan, as a friend?

Does Lucanis move to strike when Taash moves--he and Spite having adapted to the benefits of a pack hunt--with a godkiller tremor still pulsing in his limbs?

Does Bellara appeal to memory, to who Solas was, her voice strengthened by the hardest-earned lessons, to ask where Wisdom can be found in any of this destruction?

Does Neve look at the faint scratches on his ancient armor, the tension in the way he grips the dagger, and ask Solas to explain why power makes him think he's right.

Do Davrin and Assan block the way as they were always meant to, a last line of defense between Solas and the world he intends to destroy?

[shadowsndaisies]

introducing gadget

a/n: a purely self-indulgent ncis x top gun crossover for those of you who might exist in this niche with me. pay no attention to how the timeline makes any sense, please and thank you.

main masterlist

cross over masterlist

synopsis: meet gadget, lieutenant commander in the united states navy, and skilled naval aviator. gadget's been around the block though, her grandfather, mike franks, was NIS after all.

the death of mike franks - (aka the idea that started this) p2p killer's on the loose, and you're stationed across the country when you get the call. [6.20.25]

db on the carrier - when there's something strange in your carrier... who ya gonna call? ghostbusters the gunny [COMING SOON]

[warpedpuppeteer]

There's just something about the idea of Buck being heroic (not reckless) and being the last one out of a fire because he was saving someone and the whole time he's inside the structure the 118 are waiting outside with their breaths held. Then Buck comes out covered in ash and debris and soot and has lost his mask and his helmet is slipping and Eddie, who's already realized he likes him, barrels towards Buck and cups Buck's face and kisses him on the mouth desperately, leaning up and up to clutch at him and Buck's helmet falls backwards and Buck's hands pull Eddie close without even realizing and Buck makes a soft surprised sound against Eddie's lips and Eddie's breath shudders out as he breaks away but his fingers curl in Buck's hair and Buck places his forehead against his and they breathe the same air for a moment and the fire is still burning bright and hot behind them and Eddie thinks oh, he doesn't just like Buck, he loves him.

[emmavakarian-theirin]

i want to [do nice things to] that man

[nenoname]

again it's wild that the mystery shack is right on top of a massive lumberjack graveyard where zombies actually rise up on their own every month??? and actually infected other people????

(yes i believe in classic stan pines fashion, stan ignored what the fuck was going on and beat up what-appeared-to-be-teens without bothering to ask a question)

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within

Jake "Hangman" Serisin x Reader

He once had it all—riches, friends, fame—yet it was never enough. If only he’d seen the truth before it was too late. Now, everything has changed, and the blame lies squarely on his shoulders.

You’ve always lived with a quiet sense that something was missing, though you could never quite say what. When your father doesn’t return from a trip, concern drives you toward an unknown fate. What you find may be the adventure you’ve longed for—or the unravelling of secrets that were meant to stay forgotten.

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this or doing a challenge of the sorts, so please bear with me if it's not the best. Also, English is my second language and I speak 5, so if sometimes make mistakes or confuse words, please tell me respectfully so that I can improve. In addition, I'm still new to Tumblr, so I don't really know how to completely work it, so be patient with me. I am pretty excited to show you guys my take on my favourite fairy tale with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. I really hope you like it and enjoy it. Also, a small shoutout to @arcane-vagabond since she's the one that created this challenge and actually her work inspires me so much with how she writes and is able to transport you to other worlds. So yeah, without further outdo, thank you and hope you enjoy.

Juberous: adjective: Doubtful; undecided; hesitating.

Series;

Prologue (Published)

Chapter 1 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 2 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 3 (Published)

Chapter 4 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 5 (Published)

Chapter 6 (Published)

Chapter 7 (Published)

Chapter 8 (Published)

Chapter 9 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 10 (Published)

Chapter 11 (Published)

Chapter 12 (Published)

Epilogue (Published)

[torchflies]

Okay, so… y’all want a whole TG Viking AU? Cause I've had that written forever because I write tons of my own stuff that’s just for me; it seemed like a niche interest 🤣

No, seriously, it’s like 80k of random chunks.

Edit: I posted the first 10k chunk!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66846343

[moonmaarii]

leave me lonely

request: no

summary: angsty drama - rooster’s back on leave. you swore you were over him — until one night brings it all crashing back.

warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, emotional angst, themes of abandonment, military life trauma, unresolved tension, post-hookup vulnerability

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader (gender neutral)

a/n: this is my first fic with smut in so let me know what you think

word count: 1,207

you don’t know why your feet brought you here.

the moment you push through the door of the hard deck bar, the smell hits you — stale beer, sea salt, old wood, and something else. memory. regret. that hard, sinking thing in your chest you thought you’d buried under time.

it’s the same bar where you last saw him — bradley “rooster” bradshaw, golden boy of naval aviation, and the man who disappeared from your life like you never meant a damn thing. the bar looks exactly the same: low lights, classic rock playing too loud, the worn pool table in the corner, and the same bartender polishing glasses behind the counter like the world hasn’t changed in years.

but everything feels different. you feel different.

and then you see him. leaning against the bar, beer in hand, head slightly tilted back in laughter. that voice — deep, warm, cracked just enough to curl your gut like a fist. his hair is shorter than it used to be, but the mustache is the same, and when his profile turns, you see the faint bruise on his jaw, the fresh crease between his brows.

he’s older. harder. still beautiful in that way that makes your chest ache.

bradley looks up, and for a moment, it’s like the room holds its breath. his eyes find yours — those hazel eyes, always too expressive, too much.

you half-turn to leave. it would be easier. cleaner.

but then his voice finds you.

“hey.”

just that.

you face him slowly, every instinct in your body screaming to run or scream or maybe just cry.

“didn’t think i’d see you here,” he says. there’s no cocky grin. just something cautious. worn down.

“i could say the same,” you answer.

he nods once. “can i… buy you a drink?”

you hesitate. your pulse is a drumbeat in your ears. but then, despite every red flag waving in your head, you say: “yeah. okay.”

---

you sit in a quiet booth at the back of the bar, your beer untouched between your fingers. he sits across from you, close enough that you can smell his cologne — cedarwood and jet fuel and heat. the silence stretches, thick and tight.

“you look good,” he says, eventually. “different.”

you raise an eyebrow. “is that a compliment or an insult?”

he huffs a dry laugh. “compliment. definitely.”

you trace the rim of your glass. “so. four days of leave. then what — back into the sky?”

he nods. “deployment’s coming. somewhere far. again.”

you swallow hard, trying not to let that word — again — sting. “you always had a thing for leaving.”

he flinches. just slightly. but you catch it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “back then.”

you blink slowly. “then why did you disappear? no text. no call. you just… ghosted me like we were some casual hookup.”

his jaw clenches. “because i was falling in love with you, and i knew i couldn’t keep you.”

you laugh bitterly. “you think i needed keeping? you think i wasn’t strong enough to love someone in uniform?”

“i didn’t want you to wait for me. not knowing if i’d come back. that’s not fair to anyone.”

“that wasn’t your choice to make, bradley.” your voice cracks on his name. he notices.

“i know,” he whispers. “i know i fucked it all up.”

you stare at him, words caught behind your teeth. there’s so much left unsaid between you — years of it — but suddenly you don’t want to talk anymore. you just want to feel something that isn’t this aching, hollow burn. “come with me,” you say quietly. “home. just for a little while.”

his brows rise. “are you sure?”

“no,” you breathe. “but i want to remember what it felt like to be wanted. even if it’s only for a night.”

---

you don’t even make it to your bedroom before he’s kissing you — hard and desperate in the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you as your back slams against it.

his hands find your waist, sliding up your sides, fingers gripping your shirt like he’s trying to anchor himself. your mouths collide again and again, messy and wet, all teeth and tongue and years of silence poured into one brutal kiss.

“fuck, i missed you,” he growls, voice ragged against your neck. “missed this. missed you.”

clothes come off in sharp, frantic movements. his shirt hits the floor. your jeans are tugged past your thighs. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you through the dim hallway into the bedroom you once swore he’d never see again.

the second your back hits the bed, he’s on top of you — kissing you like he’s starving, hands everywhere. rough palms sliding up your thighs, brushing the curve of your ass, dragging your panties down with reverence and greed.

you gasp as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your belly, then lower still.

“i want to taste you,” he murmurs, eyes dark and unreadable. “let me.”

you nod, breathless.

he spreads your legs and sinks down between them, the warmth of his mouth sending you spiraling. he licks a slow stripe up your center, tongue flat and hot, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

you arch, crying out as he sucks your clit into his mouth, one hand pinning your hips down, the other slipping a thick finger inside you. he works you open slowly, then adds a second finger, curling just right, his mouth never leaving you.

it doesn’t take long. you’ve thought about this too many nights, too many lonely dreams. you break apart under his mouth, hips jerking, a strangled moan falling from your lips as you come.

bradley rises slowly, licking his lips, watching you with heat and something gentler beneath it.

“still so damn perfect,” he murmurs.

he kisses you again, deep and slow, and you taste yourself on his tongue.

“condom?” he asks softly, forehead pressed to yours.

“top drawer,” you whisper, pulling him down again.

he rolls it on with shaking hands, and then he’s pushing into you, slow and thick and perfect, both of you groaning as he fills you completely.

he stays still for a moment, forehead against yours, breath shaking.

“jesus,” he whispers. “you feel like home.”

then he moves.

he fucks you like a man trying to forget, and remember, all at once. every thrust is deliberate, deep, his name falling from your lips over and over. you cling to him — arms around his neck, legs around his waist — and when he leans down to kiss you, it’s softer than anything he’s said.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

you kiss the apology from his mouth.

he hits that perfect angle again and again until you’re shattering, gasping his name, body shaking under him. he follows with a low groan, hips jerking as he spills into the condom, his whole body trembling.

he doesn’t move for a long time — just holds you, face buried in your neck.

---

you lie together in silence, sweat cooling on your skin, his arm heavy around your waist. the world is quiet. but inside, you’re screaming.

“you’ll be gone in four days,” you say softly.

“i know.”

“you’re going to leave me all over again.”

he’s silent.

credits for the dividers: @cafekitsune

[writing-until-i-drop]

You're Married? | Drabble wc: 375

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x wife!reader (no use of y/n)

After the bird strike incident, Natasha knows who's coming to check on her but the rest of the squad is in for a surprise.

Warnings! Brief mention of past experience with homophobia and brief mention of minor injuries. Wrote this on my phone so formatting might be weird.

Requested by: 🗡️

Read the request here.

Natasha knew it was coming from the moment she ejected. She knew they would call her emergency contact and she knew you would drop what you were doing to rush to her side. She also knew you'd be mad as hell.

"Natasha Trace," The gaggle of big, strong, pilots surrounding her bed parted like the Red Sea at your angry tone. "I am too young to be a widow."

You stomped past her squad without a glance to them, focused solely on your wife, who besides a few bandages and the IV in her arm looked perfectly fine.

"You're married?" Rooster and Hangman exclaimed together, looking between Phoenix and her wife in surprise. You didn't notice, grabbing Natasha by the chin, twisting her head to get a better look at her injuries.

"Baby girl, I'm fine. Just a few bumps and scrapes,"

"Is Bob okay?" You looked around, spotting the backseater lying in the bed on the other half of the room, asleep. Your anger dissipated, always quick to start and quick to leave. "Oh, Bob."

"He's okay, just tired," Maverick assured you but you crossed the room to inspect him as well. Natasha smiled softly, watching you smooth the man's hair off his forehead.

"You're married?" Hangman asked quietly, pointing at you as if you were an apparition. "To her?"

"For two years this June," Natasha beamed proudly, pulling our her dig tags and showing the delicate silver band that hung there. "She is the love of my life."

"Damn right," You kissed Bob's forehead before rejoining your wife, kissing her on the cheek. Natasha was enjoying the look of shock on everyone's faces and by the embarrassed giggled you smothered by burying your face in Natasha's neck, she knew you were too.

"Why the secret?" Fanboy asked, eyebrow quirked. Natasha shrugged,

"Had a bad experience with a squad once when they found out I was gay."

"That won't be a problem here," Maverick said in a tone that left no room for argument. "Come on, guys, let's leave Phoenix to get lectured my the missus in private."

"No, no, you can stay," Natasha pleaded when your glare returned. "Please?"

"Not a chance," Rooster laughed. "Maybe if I had been invited to the wedding." The door wasn't even shut for five seconds before you launched into a worried tirade but Natasha took it all, holding your hand, promising that when she got cleared by the doctors, she'd show you just how fine she was.

[deceptivelycomplex]

Regina stood in the center of her throne room, the summoning circle drawn in salt and blood at her feet. Candles flickered in the darkness, casting shadows that danced across stone walls. She'd dismissed all her guards—this meeting required privacy.

The Evil Queen did not summon lightly. But her conquest had stalled at the borders of the Northern Kingdom, their protective enchantments proving... irritating. She needed more power, and there was only one source dark enough to match her ambition.

"Dark One," she intoned, her voice commanding even in supplication. "I summon thee."

Nothing.

Regina's jaw clenched. She was not accustomed to being ignored.

"Dark One," she repeated, magic crackling through her words. "I, Regina, Queen of—"

"I heard you the first time."

The voice came from directly behind her. Regina whirled, purple smoke already gathering in her palms, only to find herself face to face with eyes that held centuries of darkness.

The Dark One was not what she expected.

Emma Swan lounged in Regina's own throne, leather-clad legs draped over one armrest, looking for all the world like she'd been there for hours. Golden hair fell in waves over shoulders, and her smile was sharp enough to cut.

"Nice place," Emma mused, running a finger along the throne's edge. "Bit dramatic with all the black marble, but I suppose Evil Queens have a reputation to maintain."

Regina's magic flared. "Get. Out. Of. My. Throne."

"Make me." The words were a purr, a challenge, a promise.

They stared at each other, the air between them electric. Regina had heard tales of the Dark One—of deals that destroyed kingdoms, of power that corrupted absolutely. But no one had mentioned the way darkness seemed to cling to her like a lover, or how her presence made the room feel too small.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty." Emma vanished from the throne and reappeared inches from Regina, close enough that Regina could see flecks of gold in those green eyes. "I assume you want something. They always do."

Regina refused to step back, even as Emma's proximity made her skin prickle with... something. "I want passage through the Northern borders. Their protection spells—"

"Boring." Emma circled her slowly, predatory. "You could have hired any hedge witch for that. Why summon the Dark One?"

"Because I don't want to simply pass through." Regina turned to track Emma's movement, unwilling to give her her back. "I want to crush them. Completely. I want their magic to fail them when they need it most, their walls to crumble, their hope to turn to ash."

Emma stopped directly in front of her, head tilted. "Now that's more interesting." She reached out, fingers ghosting just shy of Regina's cheek. "All that delicious rage. Tell me, Your Majesty, what did they do to earn such hatred?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh, but it is." Emma's hand dropped, but she didn't move away. "You see, I don't just grant wishes. I make deals. And to make a proper deal, I need to know what's driving all that beautiful darkness inside you."

Regina's eyes flashed. "Beautiful?"

"Magnificent, actually." Emma's gaze traveled slowly down Regina's body and back up, appreciative and predatory in equal measure. "I've lived for centuries, dealt with the darkest souls in all the realms. But you..." She inhaled deeply, as if scenting something. "You're exquisite in your fury."

Heat that had nothing to do with anger pooled in Regina's stomach. This was not how she'd expected this negotiation to go.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(IceMav!Parents and Young Daggers AU (again :)) - Ice and Mav come back from date night and the inside of the house looks like a bomb went off, with Slider hopelessly trying to clean the living room)

Iceman: SLIDER! Slider: In my defense, all the children are still alive!

(they all suddenly hear a loud thud and crash upstairs)

Young Jake(after a couple moments): - I'M OK! Slider(to Ice and Mav): See? Still alive!!!