#Acid Rooster

[myearspleasure]

VENDREDI 09 FEVRIER 2023

RHINOCEROS

ACID ROOSTER - FLOWERS & DEAD SOULS

[sassyhazelowl]

Sometimes, on the quail groups, I wonder what exact people do with their quail to get such poor results. Coturnix are not that hard to hatch and raise. They are literally the easiest bird I have on my property. If you have a decent incubator and take basic steps to ensure you have good eggs and good brooder practices, you shouldn't have low hatch rats/high chick mortality. 85-100% hatch rates are fairly easy to obtain with mature hens, good breeding ratios and proper nutrition for the breeders (aka not chicken feed). You shouldn't be having issues with DIS or failure to thrive or wryneck or clubfoot/splayed leg or crossbeak if you put any effort at all into picking and maintaining your breeders well. You shouldn't have to do a lot of hard culling after a few generations let alone 3/4ths of your hatches. Your hatch rates shouldn't be 25-30% from your own eggs.

This is not survival of the fittest - this is negligence and poor husbandry.

[roosterbruiser]

𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝟏𝟏

☿ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐧) ☿ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The aftermath. ☿ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k ☿ 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 ☿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☿ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭--𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟎𝐬--𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 (𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥) 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐀

Rooster hurries over to the sofa and lays your body down carefully--as carefully as he can when he’s shaking this bad. Your dress is wrecked: torn at the thighs, muddled with tequila and vomit and tequila-scented vomit, wrinkled. Now Rooster is panicking as Jake paces behind the sofa, watching the scene before him helplessly. 

“Rooster, fuck, I--!”

“--The fuck happened to her dress?” Rooster asks, fingers shaking as he tugs on the skirt, desperate to cover the lower half of your body besides the obvious.

“I can’t, I don’t--I don’t know, I can’t fucking…I don’t even, like, we-we were fine, we were together and then--and then…” Jake stutters, sobbing into his fist. The scent of your vomit is hot in his nostrils--and your bile running down his back is hotter than that, heavy. “She just--she, she fucking…”

Jake doesn’t remember the last time he had a bump--he needs one. He knows now isn't the time--but he’s fucking freaking out. Your only sign of life is the involuntary lolling of your head, the bile pushing out from between your lips. 

“Spit it out, Goddammit!”

Jake presses his palms to his chest--wonders if he’s having a heart attack--and sniffs hard, wiping his face off and putting his quivering hands on the back of the sofa. 

“Jake,” Rooster warns, voice lethally quiet and serious. “Spit it the fuck out!”

“We were fucking fine! We-we were dancing and then she wandered off for, like, fuck--one fucking second and I found her by the bathrooms, man. She was like this already! I think someone--fuck, I think someone slipped her something.” 

Rooster’s blood runs cold. 

“We’ve gotta take her to the hospital,” Rooster says. If he was closer to Jake, if he had the ability to leave your side, he’d be shoving Jake’s chest hard. “The Hell you doing bringing her here? You fucking idiot!”

Rooster knows it wouldn’t make him feel any better--if he got a frantic phone call from Jake and had to drive to the hospital. But it would be better than this. Anything would be better than this. 

Jake shakes his head. 

“We can’t,” he insists. 

Rooster’s blood is boiling. 

“Fuck you mean? Look at her, Jake!” 

The strangled noise that falls out of Jake’s mouth is almost indistinguishable from something primal--feral. It’s a terrified sound, the scream of prey as it is mauled by predator. He knows he’s fucked. He knows he’s fucked you, too.

“‘Cause if they screen her, man…they’re gonna find more than just tequila and coke,” Jake admits, running his hands down his face. “Fuck.” 

“What’re they gonna find?” Rooster asks. He’s staring at Jake, his eyes bloodshot. “Fucking tell me!” 

“Acid, man,” Jake admits. “California Sunshine or some-some shit like that. Fuck, man, I took it, too. But I’m fine! We split one! But she’s gonna be in a whole lot of trouble if they find her pumped full of that shit.” 

“Bullshit!” Rooster hisses. “Everyone and their old lady does fucking dugs! Dennis knows that, he lets people--!”

“--Yeah, Dennis lets you take drugs on set in a controlled environment, man. Where you’re, like, under his supervision and authority! That’s the thing, man, that’s the fucking skinny--he don’t want other people to know about it.” 

Rooster’s back molars nearly crack under the wrath of his clenched jaw. 

“And, like, what’s gonna happen to some fucking bunny like Cherry if she’s gotta get her stomach pumped, like, four months into her career?” Jake argues. “No one’d fucking hire her again, man.” 

“No one has to!” Rooster argues. “Dennis has her on a--!”

Jake points an accusatory finger at Rooster. 

“--You know how he is, man! He don’t like you, well, you’re only filming four times this year! He’s got the fucking dough to get out of his contract with Cherry! She don’t! You know Dennis’d kill us if it leaked. And if he didn’t kill us, he’d kill her fucking career! And if, by some cosmic fuckin’ miracle, he was being a real coolhead about it all--yeah, he lets her finish it out. Then leaves her high and fucking dry! Who’ll take her then, huh? No one wants to hire a burnout!”

Rooster’s in a state of dysphoria. 

He can’t believe how much sense Jake is making right now, how sober these thoughts are--which is a sheer contrast from his appearance. Everything feels twisted, convoluted. Rooster’s supposed to be the one making sense right now. He’s supposed to be the one figuring it all out. But he can’t think about anything else when you’re shivering on the sofa.  

With a sense of dread seeping across his skin, he realizes that this is the closest he’s ever felt to when he was on the brown tabs at Woodstock--when he was living tangible nightmares every waking and non-waking moment, when nothing made sense. 

“We’d be fucking her,” Rooster says under his breath, eyes untrained. “Fuck.” 

So, without another word, Rooster falls to his knees beside you. You’re crumpled up, your body boneless and malleable in a way that makes his stomach turn. 

You’re still not really in your body--your body is tissue-thin and the color of fruit juice, waving in the wind like a paper kite. 

You’re not really here. 

“Cherry,” Rooster tries, holding your face firmly. “Cherry, wake up.” He pats your cheeks a few times, biting his lip hard, but you don’t come to. You’re thoroughly unconscious, being punctured by rays of sun wherever you are. “Cherry, baby, wake up. C’mon, babygirl, c’mon--open your eyes. Open your eyes, baby. Please, babygirl, you gotta.” 

He’s waiting for you to open your eyes like this is all some sort of joke. He wishes, for the first time ever, that you and Jake are pulling his leg. He doesn’t wanna be in on this joke at all. He wants, so desperately, to be on the outside of this for once. 

He knows he’s being desperate right now. This is what he did when his ma went--when he was still high as he came to, when he swore he’d only been asleep for an hour, just an hour, sitting up in that wooden chair, when the veins in his eyes throbbed, when he woke up and she was still--

“She won’t wake up, man,” Jake cries, chewing on his fingers. “Fuck, man. Fuck! Is she gonna fucking die? Oh, my God. Wait, fuck--is…is she dead?”

Rooster snaps his gaze at Jake, pointing at him tersely. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he bites at Jake. “Get your shit together. Take another fucking bump and change your threads. Go turn on the shower--cold water, alright? Then wait there for me.” 

Jake does as he’s told, sobbing as he runs down the hall, tugging his hair like an upset toddler.

“Cherry, I’m gonna grab you, alright?” Rooster says softly as if you can hear him. There’s not so much as a crease, a freckle, a dot of response across your features. “I gotcha, babygirl, c’mon.” 

And then he’s holding your form in his arms and you really do feel like deadweight--so much so that his knees feel weak, so much so that he almost cries out. But he can see the faintest twitch of your lips, the quietest words uttering from your mouth. He can’t make any of them out.  

“I gotcha, babygirl,” he promises again, starting for the bathroom. 

He won’t take his eyes away from your face, afraid to set his gaze anywhere but you, because when his ma left he wasn’t looking at her, because he fell asleep and he was so tired--

“C’mon,” Jake says shakily, grabbing Rooster’s shoulders and pulling him all the way into the bathroom--the light is golden in here, so bright that Rooster is blinking away tears. “Shower’s on.” 

Rooster, because he doesn’t trust the universe or guardian angels or fate or ancestors or luck to protect you like he can, steps into the frigid water as he is. The cold is a shock to his system, which he knows is the point, and he turns so the stream pelts your belly. 

“Cherry-berry,” Jake tries from outside the shower, reaching in to pat your cheek a few times. The only response is your limbs twitching from the cold, your body still totally slack in Rooster’s arms. “Get up, honey. C’mon, get up.” 

Bradley sinks to his knees, still holding you against his chest, his curls soaked with ice water and his clothes not far behind. He strokes your hair, his fingers numb with the cold of it all. 

“I’ve gotta make her vomit,” Rooster says sorrowfully, shaking his head. “She’s got too much shit in her system.”

“Fuck, man, she already hurled--!”

Rooster looks up at Jake, interrupts him with nothing but his blown pupils. 

“If you don’t have the stomach, get lost for a minute, okay? Get towels.” 

Jake listens at once, considering Bradley to be somewhat of a homebase right now. 

“Towels,” Jake mutters, wiping his nose again, turning towards the door and leaving the bathroom as he unbuttons his soiled shirt. “Fucking towels, man, towels.” 

Rooster presses desperate kisses to your temple, to your forehead in apology. He’s sorry that he didn’t go out with you, sorry that he’s got you under frigid water, sorry that’s about to do what he’s about to do. 

He props your body forward, droplets of water wetting your hair. And then he holds your cheeks, presses his thumb between your teeth, and shoves his fingers down your throat. 

☿

You’re not in your own bed. Without even opening your eyes, just by moving your bare feet on the sheets, you know that you’re in Rooster’s bed. It smells like him: expensive cologne, nice hair gel. He prefers silk sheets, too--you prefer velvet. Silk is always so cold--that’s why you have goosed skin right now, right down to your toes.

Everything hurts. This isn’t just a hangover kind of everything hurts--this is deeper, more serious. There’s a migraine pulsing behind your swollen eyes, throbbing your temples. Your limbs feel like they’ve been ripped off then reattached haphazardly with fishing wire. Your belly feels empty, which is usually how you like it to feel, but this is the kind of empty that frightens you--one that seeps into your chest cavity and sits there like a purring cat.  

Cracked lips parting just so, you open and close your mouth, the putrid taste of vomit sitting on your tongue like paste. 

Rooster’s been sitting in a chair beside his bed since five o’clock this morning, propping pillows behind you so you don’t roll onto your back and choke on vomit. He hasn’t so much as let his blinks linger, his gaze fixed on you entirely. 

Every thirty minutes, he leaned forward, set his index finger below your nostrils, and counted to twenty. Every hour, he rubbed his knuckles along your diaphragm to make sure your shoulders were still snapping forward like they should. Although he’s been out of practice for a long time, it still feels second nature to him.

Jake passed out sometime around noon, curled up around your feet like a kicked dog. He’s still asleep now, hugging your leg. He’s sober enough to feel guilty--but not fucked up enough to do anything about it.

You take a shaky breath, which feels stunted mid-inhale.

“Mm,” you mutter, swallowing hard. “Roo?”

His heart spikes--nearly busts through his chest.

Immediately, he’s crowding you. Kneeling on the bed, his heart pounding, he gives you a once-over without touching you. He’s almost afraid to lay a finger on you, just in case you don’t want to be touched, just in case you want to be alone in your body.  

“Cherry,” Rooster says, voice suddenly close to you, to your face. His breath wafts across your cheeks “You waking up, baby? C’mon--open your eyes. Lemme see ‘em, babygirl.” 

You know something’s wrong when you struggle to lift your heavy lids, when your lashes are matted with sand and tears and mascara. And it’s not the morning--it’s late in the day, maybe seven or eight in the evening. 

It’s an odd thing, waking up somewhere and realizing that you don’t know how you got there. It’s the first time it’s ever happened to you--you didn’t have a daddy that would carry you to your bedroom if you fell asleep on the sofa. Really, you didn’t have a mama that would let you fall asleep on the sofa. 

Before really even knowing it, you know that you’ve missed something crucial.

“Oh,” Rooster whispers, voice trembling. Your eyes meet his and there you are--his Cherry girl, alive. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot but he can tell that you’re in there, can tell that you’re going to be okay. It’s the first time all day he’s known that you’re not gone for good. “Babygirl.”

His tongue is thick with tears that he won’t let out--not in front of you. Not until you’re okay and in your body and he’s alone. He doesn’t want to scare you. 

“Ow,” you just whisper. 

“S’alright,” he says softly. “I know, baby. I know.”

He wraps his hands around your fingers, which are cold. And with a sad, sad smile tugging on his lips, he brings your fingers to his mouth and blows hot air on them. You’re shaking still--probably withdrawing. 

If you had a voice right now, you’d ask what the fuck happened. But you can’t muster the strength to make those chords vibrate in your throat, can’t do anything except feel Rooster’s breath against your chipped fingernails.

Glancing down, you find Jake wrapped around one of your legs, blinking himself awake and groggily moving up to catch your gaze. 

“Oh, mama! Up and at ‘em!” Jake says, eyes widening when he realizes you’re lucid. “Oh, fuck, Cherry-berry. We thought you were a goner.” 

“Man, not the time,” Rooster hisses softly, kissing your knuckles. “Careful with her.”

Jake crawls up your body, careful not to put too much pressure on you, and peppers your warm face with some kisses. Rooster watches, still just holding your hand, still just relieved that you’re awake. 

Jake picks up your other hand, the one that is freezing to the touch. He kisses your ruby ring over and over again, like he always does in greeting, and you let your eyes slip shut again. 

Rooster’s just silently watching you, his lip tucked between his teeth, tears heavy on his waterline. There were a few moments throughout the night that he thought he was going to lose you--like actually lose you. He thought he was going to fall asleep, just like he did when his ma was sick, and wake up to your face entirely still and your heart stopped. 

He knows now--and he knew before, too, just couldn’t put words to it--that he won’t be able to live without you. Not in any capacity, in any universe, in any dimension. He knows it full and well as you struggle to swallow, as your brows knit, as your fingers tremble. 

“God, you were real nasty last night,” Jake says, muffled by your fingers. Rooster has half a mind to strike the back of his head, but then a pathetic and crackley laugh tumbles from your lips. “You hurled all over me! Ruined my shirt!”

Now you’re laughing a bit harder, wheezing, a few tears slipping from your eyes. 

Jake keens at this precious sound. It’s the only thing that can make him feel better right now, even as his fingers shake. This is the longest he’s been sober in months--and it’s just for you. 

“Made a mess on the entryway tile,” Rooster adds very quietly, an almost-there smile pushing his bottom lip. “And the couch. And the bed.” 

It hurts to laugh--there is a particularly deep ache in your diaphragm, like someone’s been punching you there all night long. 

“Ow,” you say again, pouting, but still giggling. 

It’s a pathetic sound. It makes Bradley’s chest ache. So, he nudges Jake and then shakes his head at him. No more. 

“Sorry, babygirl,” Rooster says, stroking your matted hair from your face. “No more goofing, huh?” 

☿

Jake leaves around midnight. He kisses your face all over, presses his forehead to your temple, attaches his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” And as he’s walking out of the house, he passes your ruby ring sitting on the entryway table--Rooster put it there while you bathed. Not confiscating it, but maybe hiding it. 

Jake palms it, stuffs it in the pocket of his jeans, and drives home in the quiet of the late night. If you ask him if he’s seen it, he’s not going to lie to you. He’ll give it back. Just not until you verbalize your want to him. It makes that pit in his belly fill up with tissue paper--dissolvable, fleeting. But still there. 

Rooster’s sitting up against his headboard, right underneath the Joni Mitchell painting, and you’re hugging his legs, cheek pressed against the familiar terrain of his thighs. You feel a bit better now after having showered and ate, hair still wet and belly full of chicken broth. But you still don’t feel good--not by a longshot. 

Rooster’s just about ready to keel over. It’s been over twenty-four hours since he’s slept and every follicle of hair on his head, every nerve in his being, can feel it. He’s absently stroking your damp hair, eyes drooping, heart lulling. 

But he won’t let himself fall asleep. 

“Did I scare you something awful?” You whisper. 

He nods--you feel it. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes. He’s just stroking your hair, relishing in the steady breaths falling from your vaseline-smeared lips. 

“My chest hurts,” you tell him quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He reaches down, lets his fingers just barely graze your diaphragm--your shoulders still come together anyway. There are bruises where he pressed his knuckles--he feels guilty about it, but not guilty enough to have changed anything. “Had to make sure you were still in there.”

“It’s groovy, daddy.” 

Another lull falls over the two of you. 

You’re thinking hard about what happened before it all went dark, before you were just a paper kite floating over black poppies. You don’t think you were in your body. You don’t know where you were, you don’t know how you got back, but you’re glad that you are now. You don’t know what you would do if you could never be here again, on Rooster’s lap, in his bed. 

“It’s what I did with my ma,” he says quietly. He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this--maybe because he’s on the verge of sleep, maybe because he just needs you to know. “Like, it’s how I’d figure out if she fainted or if we had to skitty on to the hospital.” 

Swallowing hard, you nod. 

“You didn’t take me,” you whisper. 

“No, we didn’t.” 

“Why?” 

Rooster inhales deeply--tries to feel anything but tired, but can’t seem to--then cups your swollen cheek. 

“Worried you’d wake up without a job,” he tells you. “Who’s gonna hire a bunny that got her stomach pumped less than a year in, huh?” 

It makes you feel very young. So young that tears start to well in your eyes. 

“Guess I was pretty much a space cadet then,” you say, sniffling. “Shouldn’t have done what I did.” 

“Everyone does shit, Cherry.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But not everyone’s got a Daddy Warbucks to make them barf up all their mistakes.” 

For the first time in hours, Rooster smiles softly. 

“I told you I’m gonna take care of you,” he says. He clears his throat, takes a composing breath. “I should’ve taken a rain check with Nix. Shouldn’t’ve let you go out with Hangman alone.” 

God, Phoenix. You forget that’s how this entire mess started. When you were envious at the thought of them touching each other, when you went to the disco with a sore body and a hunger for anything that would make you feel better, different. 

“Nah,” you whisper. “Would’ve taken the tabs anyway.”

“I don’t think it was the tabs,” Rooster tells you quietly. “Think some chump slipped you something.” 

Wrinkling your nose, you glance up at him. 

“Like what?” 

You know that he must not be talking about coke--you already had a fair bit of it in your system. 

Rooster doesn’t know how to explain it to you. He doesn’t know how to tell you that someone slipped something in your drink in the hopes that they could finish tearing your dress, drag you off and away from Jake, and have their way with you. It’s hard for him to even think it--he’s frustrated, his jaw clenching, his knuckles white. 

“Nothing,” he tells you. “Forget it, huh?” 

You’re too tired to argue, so you nod. 

“Alright,” you whisper. 

If he closed his eyes right now, he knows he’d be asleep in seconds. So, he just keeps his gaze trained on you, on your sweet and sad form holding onto his legs. 

“What am I gonna do?” He whispers. 

He’s not even sure that he’s said it outloud. He’s not sure if he’s meant to say it aloud.

You don’t look up at him, your own eyes slipped shut now. 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“How am I gonna keep you safe if I’m not right next to you?” He asks softly. He doesn’t really expect you to answer him--but he has to say it aloud. “How am I gonna live with myself now?” 

Hugging him tighter to you, you kiss his thighs a few times. 

“Stop,” you whisper. “Don’t.” 

His tongue is dry. 

“Baby,” he whispers. “You were really sick.” 

“I know,” you mutter. “You got me.” 

He doesn’t know how to articulate to you that he would rather relive the worst day of his life--the day his ma died--a thousand times than not know if you were going to make it through the night. Not because he loves his ma any less than he loves you--but because her death seems predestined, even now. The cancer was always there, watching and waiting. But you’re so young, so full of love that it wedges itself between your ribs and underneath your fingernails. 

“But I didn’t,” he whispers. “I didn’t…Cherry, I didn’t have you.” 

Now you look up at him, your face sponged clean of mascara and vomit, and really see him for the first time since the two of you laid down together. He’s tired, like the kind of dead-tired your daddy used to be in the winter after doing barn chores. His eyes are red and drooping, there are purple bags touching his lower lashline, and there are very nearly tears rolling down his cheeks. His lips are twisted and his brows are drawn together.

 This is the purest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen on anyone’s face before.

Chewing on your lip, still feeling too weak to do anything but lay here, you reach up and carefully finger the gold chain he always wears. Your teeth have touched this--chewed on it, clamped down. It brings you comfort the same way a baby blanket would. 

“I’m good,” you tell him, voice thin. “We’ve got each other, huh?” 

He shakes his head, sniffling hard, ready to break down entirely. 

“I was so scared,” he tells you. His voice is wobbling, his fingers trembling. “God, I was so scared that-that I’d fall asleep.” 

Brows knit, you shake your head. 

“Why’s that give you the willies?”

Two fat tears stream down his face--he can’t stop them anymore, can’t take them back. He’s desperately stroking your face, sniffling. 

“‘Cause I was only asleep for an hour when she left,” he cries softly. He knows, really, that you probably don’t understand what he means. He knows that. But he’s so worked up now, so upset, so fucking tired, that he can’t stop. “I was right there. I couldn’t hear her.”

“Who?” You whisper. The fear in your bones tells you that you already know. 

“My ma,” he whispers. 

And then he breaks down entirely. It’s the kind of breakdown toddlers have when they’re over-tired. His cheeks are pink and his sobs are choked. There’s snot dribbling down his face and his tears are fat and hot. 

You’re holding onto him, kissing his skin, unable to get yourself to sit up. And he’s leaning over, hugging your torso close, pressing his wet face just beside yours. 

“Roo,” you whisper to him. “Roo, everything’s chill now, honey. We’re all good. It’s okay.” 

He can’t stop, though--a spigot that has broken. 

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me,” he mutters to you. 

You shake your head. 

“Won’t,” you simply utter. 

“Don’t die before me, okay?” He says very seriously. “Don’t fucking die before me.”

Your skin gooses. You’re not sure what to say, how to agree. So, you just nod. 

“Okay,” you whisper. “Swear it.” 

And because you’re not sure what to do, you wipe his face with your hands, not caring about snot or tears or heat or skin. And you kiss his hair, inhale all that familiar scent of his that you feel like you could drown in. 

Then you unclasp his gold chain take it off his throat. He takes only a moment to register that you’ve done it, lifting his head slightly. But then you’re handing it to him and turning away, silently signaling to him that he must put it on you. 

He does so silently, careful to move your hair out of the way before he clasps it. 

Then you turn back to look at him, holding his cheek. The chain is still warm from his skin and it sits loosely around your neck, falling into the hollow of your throat as you gaze up at him. 

“Your halo,” you mumble. “It’ll protect me, huh?” 

His heart squeezes. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sniffling. He tries to compose himself as you wipe his face clean again, kissing his flushed skin. “It will.” 

The chain was his father’s. One of the only things he got of his, one of the only things that survived the arduous task of time. He wasn’t wearing it when he died--Rooster thinks that must mean something. 

“C’mere,” you insist. 

It’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for Rooster. You move your sore body so you’re laying on the pillows, pull his large body up beside you, and spoon him. Face pressed against his neck, feet against his calves, hips connected, you press kisses down his shoulders. 

He hasn’t been held in a very long time. So long that it doesn’t really feel real that this is happening. But all the same, he sinks into the water bed, counts every single one of your heartbeats, and melts into the mattress. 

“Hold onto me,” you whisper quietly. 

Just the same, it’s been a long time since you’ve asked to be held.

He moves his arm behind him, wraps it awkwardly around your hips, and lets his grip rest on your lower back. 

“Don’t die,” Rooster whispers, slurred with sleep. 

It’s an odd thing to say--kind of funny, but also not at all. He’s being serious. You know that. 

“I won’t,” you whisper. 

“Don’t,” he says again, almost entirely asleep now. “I won’t live.” 

“Shh,” you mutter. 

And when he’s asleep, heat pouring off his body like a radiator and his body heavy against yours, you stay awake for a long time just being alive. 

You’re keeping your promise.  

☿ 𝐚/𝐧: listening to Halo by Beyonce brb

☿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

☿ 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

☿ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Ivy | chapter three

summary: Rooster and you make an agreement. Jake doesn't like when Rooster does something just for ol' times sake.

listen to: You get me so high - The Neighbourhood | Jessie’s girl -Rick Springfield. (playlist here)

warning: smut

word count: 5.8k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fii!!

When you opened your eyes the next day, you were met by the sound of birds, bright sunlight streaming in through your window, and Jake’s arms wrapping you as you slept peacefully on his chest. Bodies intertwined as the hot air of summer filled the room, you moved slightly trying to wriggle out of Jake’s hold on you without waking him up. You’d been going all night, caressing each other, kissing whatever inch of skin was untouched by the other; honestly, you were spent and exhausted. 

And yet, you knew that you were happier than you’d been in the last few months. 

You fell asleep easier than any other night before, tucked safely against his firm chest as he brushed your hair softly until you fell asleep. You’d always known that he had a soft spot for you, you weren’t an idiot when you realized that his teasing was more lighthearted than with the rest of the crew, even when you were younger. Playful conversations, quick remarks, and butting heads while going on about who was better than the other. 

It’d been right there and yet, you’d been oblivious to it. 

The sound of buzzing coming from the kitchen was what made you snap your head towards the door with a frown. You tried to stand up only to realize that your back ached as well as your legs - maybe from the fact that you’d been fucked against the floor and then repeatedly through the night -at least it was a pleasurable ache, a reminder that sex with Jake was pure euphoria. 

You stretched a bit farther, trying to finally free yourself from Jake’s warm hold on you but he groaned softly, when you did, finally his sea-foam eyes fluttered open as he watched you with a softness that you weren’t sure you’d ever recognize from him. 

“Don’t go,” he murmured as he tried to press you against his chest again, you smiled as you feel the heat irradiating from his body. 

“Hangman,” you whined as you moved your leg over his hip as attempted to climb off the bed, without much success. 

Hangman groaned again as he felt you on his lap, he quickly managed to pull you down against his chest and gazed down at you with a soft grin while you grumbled under your breath. 

“Come on, just,” he finally whispered as he stare at you. He trailed his hand on your cheek, glancing down at you while his eyes gleamed like a heavenly body. 

It would be easy to walk away from whatever had lighted up between the two of you if he wasn’t looking at you like he was. This, should feel wrong and Hangman knew that it crossed your mind, he could see it. And yet, you were still there, looking at him with a soft smile, like you didn’t want him to leave. 

“What’s that face?” you asked gently as you rested your chin over his chest, passing your fingers through his blonde locks. 

Jake sighed as he looked at you. He wasn’t the one that said too many things, he often avoided them so swiftly that girls didn’t even realize he’d dodged them but with you, it was as if he’d woken up from a deep slumber and now he was living in a different world. 

There was no way that you would notice him but you had.

“I’m just happy,” he replied gently, knowing immediately that he might’ve been too honest for his good. 

You swallowed sheepishly before leaning into him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He tasted like the lemons that you grew in your garden, somehow sweet and acidic while your whole body seemed to ignite on fire as he deepened the kiss. When you pulled away his pupils were blown wide and a maroon shade painted his cheeks. 

And then, there was that insisting buzzing coming from outside of your room. You sighed while you looked back at Jake before pressing your lips delicately to his. 

“Wait here,” you asked him gently, he groaned softly but he finally let go. 

You quickly took a shirt from your drawers and a pair of panties before you walked out of the room as you got dressed, Jake’s eyes never left your body -at least, not until he lost sight of you. 

You wandered into the main room, it looked as if a cataclysm had passed through it. There was broken glass on the kitchen floor, your things tossed in different directions, clothes scattered around, your rug was wrinkled, and even the couch -which had become a new surface you’d experimented on the night before- was tilted to the wrong place. You sighed as you hoped your mother wouldn’t come any time soon. 

This wasn’t normal for you, creating messes, making the lines blurry of what’s wrong and what’s right; and yet you wondered if it maybe was truly you. You’d never been anything but private and reserved, strict and precise. You followed the book and yet when Jake touched your body as if he was playing an instrument, you realized that you’d never felt more like yourself. 

You did your best to take your phone, which was buzzing against the floorboards, from one of the pockets on the flight suit that lay between the shattered glass on the floor, smiling to yourself as you realized that it had become a more or less normal occurrence with Hangman. You grabbed the phone from your pocket and your eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

🐓: I’m on my way to your place. Please, don’t shut me out. 

Your heart sunk in your chest as you read the text and looked at the time. He’d been calling for about half-and-hour and that text was sent ten minutes ago; he would be in front of your house in less than fifteen minutes. 

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice startled you as you watched him take his boxers from the ground as placed them on. 

His eyebrows knit together as he noticed how pale you’d become in a matter of seconds, the sullen look on your face as you turned around. 

“Rooster’s coming,” you muttered in a hushed whisper as you stare down at your phone and then again at Jake’s who was looking like he was a Greek god. Rooster would probably lose it if he saw Jake like that, if he found out then things would be forever broken between the two of you and he would probably beat Jake to a pulp too. 

Sprung by the fear of having any kind of confrontation you quickly raced through your living room to place your uniform and other clothes in a basket, before you tried to move the couch to the place it belong to. Jake turned toward you, he took the couch in his hands and one swift motion managed to put the couch back in its place. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out as you gazed at him, but he was looking at you sternly. 

“Did you ask him to come?” Jake asked as he placed his hands on his hips. You noticed that he was trying to remain as neutral as possible but you could still feel the sorrow in his eyes. You knew what he was asking though, ‘Are you going back to him?’

At first, you didn’t know how to answer because until two days ago, Jake was simply a friend.

“I, I think he wants to talk about last night,” you explained as you noticed how his sea-foam eyes seemed to drop further, tugging your heartstrings. “Listen, Jake,” you finally breathed as you tried to hold onto his hand. 

“No, no,” Jake shook his head as he walked away from you. “Don’t ruin it,” he asked, gruffly as if he was trying to sound tough. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” you replied while he raised his eyebrows at you in a challenging manner. 

“I bet’s going to go ‘I think you’re great but this cannot keep happening’” he scoffed. 

You sigh as your eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I don’t want to hurt him,” you breathed out as you tried to find the right words. “And I think this,” 

But Jake cut you off. 

“Can’t we keep it a secret between us?” he asked, a little too quickly. The threat of losing you and whatever this was made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. 

You watched him quietly, a puzzling look in your eyes while he stared at you.

“You want to,”

“I just,” Jake muttered quietly before he shook his head, at a loss for words. He walked towards you quickly before he was cupping your face in his hands and kissed you softly. 

You understood what he meant, you didn’t need words to understand that he wanted this, he wanted you. In your mind it had never occurred to you to do such a thing, to not clear the air of what had happened between the two of you and put an end to it. 

You should’ve put an end to it but you didn’t, not with those sea-foam eyes looking at you like that. 

“I’ll think about it,” you murmured against his lips while he held your face and you caressed his forearms. “But I mean it, this cannot happen until we’ve agreed,”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Jake replied as he kissed you again. 

Jake drove off from your place a few minutes before Rooster was knocking on your door. You’d barely managed to put on some shorts and fix things around enough for it not to look like a fucking disaster, though you were still walking over the shattered glass when you heard Rooster knocking softly on the door. 

When you opened the door, Rooster’s standing there with those puppy dog eyes that you used to love. He looked tired but not in a hungover type of tiredness, exhaustion caused by what you could only describe as regret. 

“Hi,”

It should’ve softened you until you recalled how he’d kissed you without your permission the day before. You narrowed your eyes at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“What do you want Rooster?” you grumbled. 

Rooster pinched the bridge of his nose for a second before he sighed and gazed at you again. “Okay, I’m just here to say that I’m sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean-” his eyes fell behind you, to the mess on the floor, the glass was spreading all over the floor. “What happened over there?”

You frowned and turned around, a scarlet shade washed over your cheeks. 

Fuck.  

“I had an accident, doesn’t matter,” you said as your gaze turned back to Rooster. 

Technically it was an accident. 

Rooster sighed and shook his head slightly before he stepped into your place. “Come on, I’ll help you clean it up,” he muttered as he entered the house. He’d spent time there, there shouldn’t be any reason why you wouldn’t let him in. He knew that house since he was a child, it was kind of his home too. 

And yet, you still felt your heart thundering in your chest. Could he smell Jake on you? Could he smell the scent of lemons and wood that lingered on your skin after he was rocking into you while he kissed your spine? You tried not to think about it as Rooster took a broom out and began to sweep the glass from the floor, while you stared at him silently. 

Rooster also knew that he shouldn’t be there, not after what he did the night before. He would like to tell himself that he got carried away, that he was just too overwhelmed with his feelings for you. In reality, he was terrified to think of you slipping away. He knows you too well, too well to know completely that the breakup pulled you apart too, too well to know that he might’ve given you the last kiss he would ever give to you, too well to know that you’d been pulling away from him even to your detriment. 

Rooster though wasn’t known for quitting. 

“I know you’ve been hiding out here,” he finally muttered once he had picked up most of the glass from the floor while you walked towards one of the stools in the kitchen. “None of our friends knew you were back,”

“I needed time for myself,” you sighed. 

Rooster shook his head. “Keep telling yourself that,” he replied. 

“What?”

Rooster bit his cheeks as you stared at him defiantly, he knew the look was like the back of his palm. 

“I know you, you shut everyone out when something happens and you have to face your feelings,” he said. “Hell, I don’t even know how you didn’t shut down completely after Ice,”

“You almost died,” you replied a bit too quickly while you look down at your hands. 

It was the truth. After Ice's funeral, you were barely talking to anyone, you kept going to train for the mission but you weren’t talking too much. It was enough for Maverick to not choose you to be his wingman, secretly, you were glad that he hadn’t because if your mom lost you, you didn’t know if she would’ve withstood it with Ice having died so recently. 

The only thing that had shaken you was Rooster and Mav almost dying, and Rooster’s confession followed up; giving you little room to shut down anymore, bonding with him after such trauma only made things harder. 

Rooster nodded softly at you, while he stared. He quickly walked to you and sat next to you while he took your hand and give it a soft squeeze. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“For what?”

You sighed while you gazed at his honey-burnt eyes. God, he shouldn’t be looking at you like that, he shouldn’t be looking at you like Jake did this morning. 

“For this,” you said. “I know what you’re doing coming over here,”

Rooster raised his eyebrows playfully. “You do?” he chuckled. “Tell me then, darling,”

You laughed at him while shaking your head at the nickname. Rooster felt his whole body buzzing as he heard you, he had never enjoyed making someone laugh the way he enjoyed making you laugh. He recalled how you used to make him work for every laugh and smile when you were younger. 

��I have a feeling you’ve talked with my mom,” you replied while staring at him. 

“What? No, I did-” his eyes widened as he tried to deny it. “I talked with Mav,” he replied. 

If Maverick knew what was going on, was because Sarah was telling him how you were. You rolled your eyes at the realization that your mother had been playing a double agent. 

“Great,” you grumbled while you climbed down from the stool. 

Rooster sighed. “Don’t be like that,” he said as you walked towards the sofa, away from him. 

“Like what?”

Rooster shook his head as he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, spinning to face him, he pressed your back into one of the walls. You frowned as you tried to pull away but he didn’t let you. 

“Rooster, don’t-” 

“Look, more than your ex-boyfriend, I’m your best friend,” He said. “I’ve known you since I can remember and I, I know when you’re hurting. It’s even worse when I know it’s because of me. What I did yesterday wasn’t right and it won’t happen again. I’m in love with you but I also love you enough to know that I have to let go of being with you if it means that I get to have you in my life as my best friend,”

“Rooster,”

 “I’ve missed you so much as my best friend and I can’t bare to see you hurting with no one,”

You sighed as he finally let go of your hand, he was staring at you in the soft way that he always did before, even before you were together. It shouldn’t break you to see him like that, it does though. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you finally sighed while you stared at him. 

Rooster's lips quirked up slightly. “C’mere” he muttered before he pulled you into a hug. 

You nuzzled against his chest softly, the smell of plane oil and honey wrapped around you. He felt at home when you wrapped your arms around him. Rooster smiled so widely as he held you, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it but god, he’d missed your touch so much. 

“So, friends?” he muttered after a minute, he cupped your face softly, caressing your cheek as he tilted your head so he could watch you. 

“Are you going to try any other move on me?” you asked him while raising your eyebrows at him, your words harsh but Rooster knew that you were joking. 

He sighed. 

“I might,”

“Rooster!” 

“I did say I’m still in love with you but I’m not going to do anything unless you ask me to,”

You shook your head. 

“Keep on waiting,” you grumbled while you let go of him. “You want some breakfast before work?”

Jake kept his promise of waiting for you. 

More or less.

That morning, you learned a thing or two about yourself. 

You learned that you were a good criminal, you could have breakfast with Rooster with not a lot of paranoia about having fucked Hangman mere hours before in the same kitchen where he was eating some pancakes. Not even a drop of sweat on your forehead as you winced slightly once you sit down in the classroom where Maverick goes through the details of the mission and for the exercise of the day. 

You also realized that you were a terrible person too. Rooster was still staring at you that morning like you were the love of his life while Jake was eye-fucking you every chance he got. Rooster was still making you laugh, still pulling you tightly against him as you walked to the Tarmac. 

He still believed that he had you, all of you.  

The thought of him finding out made you feel ill. Especially by how he was now talking with Hangman as they played a game of pool on the Hard Deck. 

It was Saturday already and it’d been already a long week, you didn’t need this. You didn’t need Rooster’s hand on Jake’s shoulder, you didn’t need Jake’s laughing at Rooster’s comment while he gazed at you in a fleeting second and then back to the game. They were getting along even better than before as if sharing you unknowingly made them best friends. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bob asked as he sipped from his juice. 

You cursed mentally as you sipped your Moscow mule from the bar where you are with Bob and Phoenix, you turned to Bob raising your eyebrows at him before turning back to them. The sight was enough for you to ask for a drink, not your usual sober way. 

“Can’t believe they are getting along so well,” you grumbled. 

“Well, saving the other’s life would usually do that to people,” Phoenix intervened as she raised her eyebrows at you, something else swimming in her eyes. 

You knew that Phoenix was the smartest among the dagger squad. If she knew that something was happening, it wouldn’t be long before everyone found out. You swallowed hard while you nodded. If you acted like nothing was happening, nothing was happening. 

“I know, still it’s different,” you said as you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Hangman has been different,” Bob muttered uninterestedly as Phoenix and you snapped your head toward him. 

“What do you mean?”

Bob shrugged slightly while he raised his eyeglasses. “I don’t know,” he said. “He seems more relaxed than before, he’s not being an asshole all of the time,”

Your eyes widened slightly, you tried to recall the past few weeks and Jake’s behaviors. Innocently, part of you thought that it was something that only happened around you. None of them knew how delicate he was with you, none of them were there when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear when no one was noticing you, none of them knew how he had held you when you slept together. But maybe they’d noticed the soft smiles he sent your way, maybe they’d noticed that he was less snappy than before, maybe they’d noticed how careful he was when he was on the air now, less reckless when you were around. 

“I’m going to see what they’re doing,” you decided as you let go of your drink. 

Both men raised their heads as Coyote called your name once you strolled towards the pool table. They both smiled as you walked towards the team, both of them frowning slightly once you leaned against Javy while he explained to you the status of the game, but you still stared at them until he finished. 

Jake, though, was more hyperaware about what Rooster was doing, and how he was looking at you. His jaw ticked as he realized the way Rooster’s eyes were trailing your body, how his stupid mustache looked over the stupid side smirk he was giving you. 

Jake shouldn’t be that jealous, he knew that you were last screaming his name some weeks ago, he knew how your cheeks turned scarlet when he said something slightly flirty when he was looking at you in a way that clearly told you he wanted to take your clothes off. 

And yet, the jealousy was suffocating. 

“What are you two talking about?” you asked as you glanced between Rooster and Jake. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Jake replied as he heard Rooster answering at the same time. 

“Nothing, darling,” Rooster stated.

Jake couldn’t help but noticed how you winced slightly as they both answered you. Rooster then glared at Jake for a second, furrowed eyebrows and all, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he returned to you and smiled at you.

Rooster was never good at hiding his jealousy from Jake. Jake knew that something always bothered Rooster about you two. It wasn’t even that you were super-close but Rooster would often glare at Jake when he made you laugh when Jake made a suggestive comment and instead of answering with disgust you would shake your head and giggle. 

Rooster hated it, Jake knew it. 

How would he even react if he knew that Jake had you riding his face in the dawn while you moaned some weeks ago? 

“Whatever you say,” you muttered while you stared at the game.  

As you leaned into the pool table, Jake’s eyes widened. Your dress although modest upfront, barely covered your ass, and he was pretty sure that if you leaned a bit more every guy in the Dagger Squad and on the bar would have a view of your pretty white underwear. If Jake could have it his way, he would’ve taken his bomber jacket and wrapped it around your waist already while dragging you to his place. It’d been weeks since you’d seen each other, and you were always telling him that you still needed to think about it; other than a peck or two, nothing had happened and Jake was so close to making a move on you, but instead, Rooster made his move. 

You gasped softly as you felt a strong pair of hands on your waist, pulling you against a chest. By sheer audacity, you knew it couldn’t be Jake or you would’ve murdered him on the spot. Instead, the honey scent of Rooster invaded your space as his strong hands held your skin tightly, even with the dress you could feel the heat of his body. 

He bends down, mouth millimeters from your ear. “You know that I love that dress right?” 

You felt the heat spreading out through your body from the tone of his voice, low enough to know what he meant when he said those words. 

“Rooster, stop,” you muttered as you took a hold of his hand and tried to brush it off. 

“Remember when I took you home after that party?” Rooster insisted and you sank your teeth into your lower lip as you still tried to brush him off. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Bradshaw,” you snapped at him as you finally wriggled out of his hold on you. 

He had a smile on his face, his cheek a shade of maroon while his eyes were glossy. The look he was giving you was one he’d given you before, with the same dress one night you’d gotten out. Part of you the next morning thought he’d ripped it apart from you once you reached his place. 

It hadn’t thankfully and although the memories made you want to push your thighs together, you shook your head. 

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning away from him until your eyes met with Jake’s. Livid didn’t begin to describe how he was looking, honestly, you were surprised that the pool stick on his hand hadn’t broken in two, he was gripping it that tight. 

He glared at you as you threw him an apologetic look before excusing yourself and returning to Phoenix and Bob. They didn’t ask what had happened and you didn’t tell them anything about Rooster or Jake, instead, changing the topic of the conversation right away. 

Jake didn’t get near you for the rest of the night, Rooster did. Jake refused to talk to you, Rooster didn’t. It was strange, to be showered with attention by someone that was supposed to be the love of your life and still gazing back at his wingman. 

Deep down you knew that you shouldn’t have been thinking about Jake. It’d been weeks since something had happened between the two and you’d been fighting with yourself not to do anything stupid again. It was true that Jake had made you feel happier than you’d felt months prior but you still felt like you were going to throw up each time you thought about Rooster finding out. 

And you tried to keep your persona, your values, the things that Ice had taught you. 

At least until almost one a.m. when you trailed behind Jake after he’d muttered his goodbyes to the rest of the team, all without looking at you. 

You gazed over your shoulder as he walked out of the Hard Deck while you frowned slightly. Maybe it was the alcohol that made you braver, liquid courage, but you muttered something about checking on your bike and you walked out a minute or two after Hangman. People didn’t suspect anything, Rooster was too busy with Payback and Fanboy to think much about your sudden escape and Phoenix was talking with Payback’s girlfriend and Bob to say anything. 

Hangman wasn’t far away when you called his name. He was in the direction towards his place but close enough to the bar so he could still hear you. The beach wasn’t empty per se but people were scattered to their places already, few people remained as you called for Jake. 

“Jake, come on!” you panted as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him, haltering his step. “Can we fucking talk?” 

Jake’s sea-foam eyes narrowed slightly, he towered over you so easily that you had to give a few steps back. Despite all the alcohol flowing through your veins, you’re painfully aware of the heat of his body as he takes a hold of your forearm so you couldn’t walk away from him. 

“What’s there to talk about?” he snapped at you while he glared at you. “Hm? Me watching how you and Rooster flirt all night?”

“I wasn’t flirting with him!”

“You weren’t stopping him either,” Hangman chastise you, his eyes locked on yours. 

Your eyes widened softly at the revelation. You knew that Jake could be jealous, it would be nothing new, but this? 

This wasn’t just jealousy, you could see it in his eyes. 

The alcohol probably gave you more courage than it should, probably more courage than anything could give to you. You quickly crashed your lips against Jake’s, your hands moving quickly to his shoulders, pulling yourself against him as his hand moved to grip the front of your throat. 

It felt like heaven to Jake, he couldn’t believe he’d spent weeks without tasting your lips. He quickly moved you against the side of the bar, near where the bushes were, not caring if anyone was still on the beach to see you. It’s rough and passionate, the heat overwhelms Jake’s body as he squeezed your throat and his tongue explored your mouth. 

Jake’s free hand slips around your body, his hands skimming your thighs, coming to rest on your ass under your dress, gripping it tightly as a moan escaped your lips. You’ve missed him, you’ve missed feeling him and kissing you as he did. Moaning you sink your teeth into his lips and he lets a groan before he’s devouring your mouth again. The intensity of the kiss grows as the second's pass, anger, desire, longing, hard breathing, it’s everything as you tug his shirt eagerly and press him against yours. 

Your back hits the moist wood wall as Jake loosened his grip on your jaw, trailing kisses on your neck and across your collarbones while you rolled your hips against him, looking for any friction you could find. Jake felt your movement, he smirks as he kisses your collarbone and before you realized it, he sank onto his knees, which now become a common occurrence when you got together. 

And yet, he doesn’t sink his face between your legs. 

He gazed at you from his place between your legs as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh, an intricate pattern follows. 

Kiss. Bite. Licking. Sucking. Other thigh. Bite. Kiss. Sucking. Licking. 

You can’t breathe. The temperature rose, the air thickened, and the tension stole every last bit of oxygen from your lungs as you wait for him to touch you. You were so wet, you knew that you were but he was not touching you. Your hips move to your own accord as a desperate whimper slipped from your parted lips as Jake slowly and deliberately continued to taunt you. 

Modesty, rules, Ice’s values. Everything went out the window as Jake pressed a soft kiss to your core over your underwear before he smiled up at you. That innocent fucking smile, like he hadn’t fucking felt your pulse on your core, as if he hadn’t felt you shudder while he held your hips like he hadn’t heard the soft moan you let out as soon as he did it

“Hangman, please,” you whimpered impatiently. 

Jake pressed another kiss on your core, harder than the one before and you jolted at the sensation. 

“Just wanted to remind you whose name you were screaming, darling,” he taunted, the emphasis and poison on the last word made it obvious that he was teaching you a lesson. 

You didn’t like it, but it felt as if your body was betraying you. 

“Jake,” you whimpered again, frustration now obvious in your voice.  

Hangman simply chuckled darkly and deviously as he continued his pattern on your thighs. He placed another kiss on your clothed core as he raised from his knees and kissed you roughly. You hum loudly against his lip as your arms draped over his shoulder, pushing you against him. 

You wanted it. You wanted it. You wanted it. 

But Jake had other plans. His hands slide between your bodies and nudge your underwear to the side while you breathed hard as his long, thick fingers dragged gently over your folds and then over your throbbing clit. You tried to roll your hips trying to grind yourself on his fingers but he doesn’t budge, he kept them there. 

“Jake, come on or I’m not going to fuck you ever again,” you huffed frustrated. 

Jake shook his head. “You’re going to be begging me to fuck you, Brat,” he replied with a dark grin. 

You wanted to bite back, you wanted to tell him off, you wanted to show him who was really in charge, but before you could, a gasp escaped your lips as he sank his two fingers into you while the pad of his thumb pressed your clit. 

He’s good, he’s so good. 

Your body erupted in a fire as he pumped his fingers into you. Jake’s lips covered your mouth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you with his fingers and you rolled your hips to match his movements, the pleasure running through your spine and spreading through your entire body. The slick, wet noise of Jake’s fingers pumping in and out of you was loud, if there was someone close, they would’ve probably known exactly what you were doing but you couldn’t care less. 

Not by the way your heart fluttered as his palm slides up again to the base of your throat, squeezing it slightly as he continued to work on you. You arched your back, pushing harder against him as you raised one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist. 

“Does it feel good baby?” Jake rasped into your ear. You nodded, your eyes closed in concentration as you gripped his shoulders for dear god, anything to keep you this close to him. He doesn’t like the answer, instead, Jake quickly takes a hold of your hair and pushes you back slightly so he can meet your eye. You whined loudly at the action, a lighting of pleasure running through your body as you locked eyes. “Don’t be a brat and tell me how good it feels,”

“So good, so good, so good,”

It should’ve been enough for you to pull away from him, to slap him in the face. But your body and brain were short-circuiting by the way he was pumping his fingers in and out of you, perfectly. Your dignity was out of the window as soon as you decided to kiss him. Incoherent pleas and sweet nothings escaped your lips as you rocked against his hand, now the heel of his hand applying enough pressure to your clit that you feel like you were going to pass out. 

“Atta’ girl,” he muttered. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as the euphoric feeling ripples through your body as your brain shuts down, your back arches against him as he kept pumping his fingers while your whole body shook. The coil on your lower abdomen snapped harder than before, you let out a silent scream that Jake managed to smother with his hand as your pussy clenched around his fingers, bucking and trashing as you feel like you drowning. 

Jake lets out a content sigh as he still holds you. He decided that he fucking loved seeing you come every time. He silently removed his fingers and wearing the smuggest expression you’d ever seen, he sucked his fingers into his mouth. Not breaking eye contact as you watched him through lust-filled eyes. 

“Brat?”

Fuck.

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***

author's note: sorry for the delay!! I really hope you enjoy the chapter really really really

***

feedback is always welcomed!!!

donate: help me pls with a glass of wine?

[queenofmoons67]

Top Gun Characters as Dinosaurs

this is a shit post but also 100% serious. i've figured out some, but please chime in to help fill out the cast! (also if anyone makes art i will love you forever)

Mav: velociraptor (they hunt in packs!)

Ice: spinosaurus (the spine as the hair spikes, lol) (also height difference)

Goose: brachiosaurus (looooong neck)

Slider: t-rex (has those giant shoulders for bullying those who bully his friends)

Carole: triceratops (she's an herbivore, but watch out for those horns!)

Jake: dilophosaurus (hehe tiny acid sprayer)

Phoenix: pterodactyl (wings. that is all)

Rooster: stygimoloch (literally has a hard head)

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Heart rates and late night calls

Pairing; Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x reader, Javy 'Coyote' Machado x reader (platonic), Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader (platonic)

w.c; 1.7k (i am SO SO SORRY for the short length of this chapter)

Warnings; night terrors/nightmares, angst, mentions of death, a few mental health issues, i think that's it...? let me know if i missed anything!!

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“Come on, slow poke! Aren’t you meant to be the fastest pilot?” your hair stuck to the sides of your face as you ran along the shore. Crushing your bare feet into the wet sand and taking them just as swiftly, laughing as you tipped your head back. 

“Hey! I'm not the one who holds the record for fastest pilot who is a runner! Slow down, Thena!” Jake shouted from behind you, struggling to keep up with you cheetah like pace as you ran through the coarse winds. 

He quickly was able to catch up with you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, picking you up. He felt your chest vibrate against his, laughing. He felt your hands smack his arms and wrists, trying to get out of his grasp. 

“Jake, stop!” He heard you laugh, almost hysterical. 

“Jake! Stop, you’re hurting me! Please! Jake!” your shouts and pleas were drowed before he felt your body go limp in his arms. Unmoving. Unbreathing. 

You laid there, in his arms. Unbreathing, unaware of the man struggling to breathe. He felt like he was being pressed from the chest down. You were limp, unaware of all the life that was booming around him, miles away. Fuck. no. no, no,.

He came to wake with a heaving breath. Chest swallowing any amount of air it could grasp onto. It was a dream. Fucking christ it was a dream. Thank god…

He reached to grab the glass of water on his bedside table, galloping it down within seconds and setting the glass back down. He glanced towards his phone, then to his clock; 3:45 AM. 

Taking a deep breath, he reached for his phone, unconsciously mapping his way towards a familiar contact and pressing dial.

“Hey, it’s J- Hangman, not sure when you're going to end up hearing this message. Your phone is currently turned off and you’re…asleep. Yeah, I think that's a good way of putting it. You’re sleeping. And here I am talking to a voice machine because-” He sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tightening as tried not to let the salty tears that were gathering in vision flow. 

“I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but then you come along, throw a middle finger right in my face, flip my world upside down, and have proven me so very wrong on that.

“I’m scared-'' his mouth betrayed him another time as he let your name flow out of it like a prayer, repeating it until he felt like he could say something else. “Please, forgive me for leaving you. Forgive me for being an asshole, I will do anything this world requires of me to get you back, to feel you in my arms, safe, sleeping soundly on my chest, like you were the night of your breakup. Please, please, Athena, i..love you, please, wake up”

He was sobbing. Slipping off the bed and onto the makeshift bed beside the wooden frame, clutching the phone to his chest. He had never cried like this before. Not a time that he can remember from the top of his head. Maybe when his favourite tv show got cancelled because it wasn’t getting much views. He knew this was pointless, leaving a message like this, one that you probably won’t end up hearing. But this…this was pain. This was agony, something he had never felt before. A stab so sharp in his chest that the G’s he pulls during training felt lighter. His heart felt like it was being dipped in acid and then ironed. He didn't want to lose you. 

And in that moment he realised he has fallen for you. Smacked himself right into the massive gates of love, and let himself in without permission.

He realised he is in love with the one woman that despises him.

And he could bet his life on the fact that you didn’t love him…did you?

...

It was after training had finished that all the Top Gun pilots had decided to visit you. Bradley, Halo and Payback were the last ones to arrive outside your hospital room. They were able to catch a glimpse of her, multiple drips and wires hooked up to her, an oxygen mask attached to your face, slow breaths misting up the plastic. A thick white bandage was wrapped around your head but before they could look any further, they were being ushered towards the waiting area by the nurses where Jake and Coyote sat. 

Phoenix wasn’t discharged but was cleared to walk around the hospital for the rest of her stay. 

Rooster currently stood at the end of the hallway, having been the only one who was willing enough to talk to the doctor about his friend���s condition. The rest sat in the old wooden plush chairs, scared that they would end up hearing something that they didn't want to.

You were as much of a good friend to him as the rest of them. He was one of the few that actually has had a posting with her in the past. Both graduated from the academy in the same year. He’s seen you in your element, flying recklessly yet so elegantly that he almost thought your callsign to be Zeus or something related to the god of the skies. 

He wished he had met you earlier, during your early college or training days- when all you had done was cause havoc for the pilots and admirals. It made him think of his dad and Maverick- the name still tastes so bitter in his mouth but he is trying to forget him- the headaches they caused at the towers and it was so similar to the stories that his colleagues told him of Athena. 

“How is she?” There was a noticeable tense to his voice, uncertainty, that perhaps he was going to hear something he didn't want to. 

“She’s stable, for now. Due to the altitude of impact, she did not sustain any injuries near her major organs,” Rooster lets out a breath that he wasn’t sure he was holding as he nods in understanding. Prompting the older man to continue; “However, the material- most likely a polycarbonate- scratched dangerously close to her which caused traumatic brain injury.” 

The pure shock on Bradley's face must have said something because in the next moment, the bearded man ushers him to a nearby chair and sits him down. This cannot be happening, no, its too close to home. Especially for him. 

His heart feels like it is moving to his throat, threatening to spill out. “Wh- what does this mean? Is she going to wake up?” 

The man only lets out a sigh, not sure of what to tell the young man beside him. “We aren’t sure, we will run some scans and MRI’s but that's the best we can do. I’m sorry” patting him on the back, he moves away to give Bradley some space. 

Rooster returns him a tight smile before letting out a long breath. Running two hands over his face to try and wake himself from this nightmare. He doesn't know how long he sits on the uncomfortable metal chair for a minute? Maybe thirty? Before he hears the shuffle of feet, combat boots. 

Peeking his eyes open, he scans through his blurred vision to find his friends, wearing similar looks on their faces, dread, concern, anxiety. 

A single look between him and Coyote is exchanged before he feels his eyes burn, salty tears gathering in front of his vision as he tries to wipe them away. Immediately he feels a set of arms around him, the familiar scent of lavender and sweat hitting his nostrils as he lets himself be surrounded by it. Clinging onto Phoenix, mindful of the bandages wrapped around her torso. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” She whispers to him, almost as if they are exchanging a secret. 

Bradley only sniffles into her neck, letting out a shaky “yes”. 

The soft murmur of his voice is heard by everyone around him. Or at least felt. Javy is wearing the most broken look anyone has seen on him. The rest disperse quietly. Trying to find their own way to deal with the surge of emotions that just hit them. 

It’s ridiculous how life plays its cards, taking away the ones you hold dearest away from you in an instant and before you know it, they’re gone. Forever vanished with the wind. 

You don’t wake up the day, or the day after. Or during the week that follows up to the mission. The lack of your presence is felt throughout that time, the pilots were distracted to say the least but every morning the broken look on Coyote and Jake’s face reminded them who they were doing this for. Who they would see, unmoved at the end of the day as they visit the hospital at the end of the day. 

Coyote visited you everyday with your favourite takeout in hand, hoping he would see your smile, sat on the hospital bed, complaining about how your hair looked after two weeks of not brushing it. 

Jake came when he could, he couldn’t bear seeing Coyote sat by your side everyday. Crying as he holds your hand in his. He came when he could because he couldn’t bear to see your face, the face that always morphed into disgust or annoyance when it settled on him. He couldn't bear to see those lips that uttered the most beautiful laughs and held the most dashing smile he had ever seen. He couldn’t… 

Bradley visited you a few times, telling you stories about his time after his academy graduation. One day, something came over him, he ended up telling you about his dad. In a hushed, quiet tone. 

“He was one of the best pilots i knew,” he sniffled, wiping away a rogue tear that fell to his cheek, a few others warping their way towards his scars and down his chin.

“You are the only one that comes to a close second y’know?” he lets out a strangled laugh, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You are impressive, my Thena, i miss you” he softly takes your iv’d hand in his, mindful of the drip injection attached to it. “Everyone misses you. Coyote has stopped eating, has to be reminded by Nix every night, and even then he ends up eating the takeaway that he brings you after work. 

“Jake…Hangman’s a mess” Rooster chuckles, slightly in disbelief of the words that he is about to tell you. “I’m pretty sure I heard him cry in the lockers yesterday after everyone was gone, staring at a photo of you- it was your official military photo for god sake!”

The heart rate monitor beside him is beeping. A steady heart rate. Nothing. Another day, not a single sign of you. 

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[deva-arts]

Hey Deva. what do your OC's mouths taste like.

I'M HAUNTED BY MY WORDS...

But okay sure fine I'll answer

First off we have a headcanon from Ritz:

Scrumptious!

Okay here's what I think:

Seraphina: She might not be too romantic, but she has excellent hygiene and doesn't go making out with Nathaniel without being nicely fresh. "It's basic courtesy to brush your teeth for a minute and thirty seconds before each kiss, Nathaniel. I would have it no other wa- ack- wait-" He really doesn't care and will try to sneak in more than a few sweet moments between work regardless. She'd like to say she's not a fan of canoodling during a tight schedule... But she loves that shit.

All this to say she probably tastes like mint. Or just a clean mouth. Sometimes energy drinks.

Nathaniel: Nathaniel is a doctor, but before that he was quite the playboy! Nate's pretty seasoned in the art of romance, especially since he's lived through so many different appearances. (He has to mind the teeth a little now that he is exclusively using this form, though...) He's always keeping nice with cologne and clean clothes, going a little extra on the mouthwash, etc.... Unless he is burning himself out doctor-style, then he... Just tries to keep himself showered and his teeth brushed.

Nathaniel tastes like mouthwash or breath fresheners when he's a spry rooster looking to woo Ser... But when he's tired he just tastes like mouth. He just wants some love. Please. (She stays in that day.)

Sonia!

Sonia makes sure her lips are fruit flavored so that her kisses can be "An experience that'll always make you crave me." Okay Sonia. But to be fair, she is a good kisser. Not only does she smell nice, her chemical synthesis ability essentially sterilizes and monitors the processes in her body, including harmful bacteria in the mouth. She would pleasantly surprise Nate if he ever needed to test a swab.

She tastes like cherry lipstick, the taste in your mouth you get right after brushing your teeth a third time, with a hint of something... lightly spicy? You find out later that it's acid.

Vincent! I'm not looking forward to writing this one WOOO

Vincent is an extremely... Meticulous individual. But only for certain things. For others he has no conceptual foundation and thus does not consider or practice them. He will shower three times a day. He brushes his teeth until his gums bleed. He bites his nails down to nubs.

But he will not moisturize, or do maintenance for the plentiful amounts of scar tissue on his body. His skin is rough and textured differently with every square inch you come across. His lips are chapped my guy. They're chapped bad. He smells a little weird too. Like feathers and gasoline, covered poorly with a plentiful amount of body spray. He also doesn't floss and eats anything under the sun.

His mouth tastes like the aftertaste whatever edible or inedible object he's eaten, with a hint of oral decay. He's a bad kisser the first few goes around too. His idea of cuddling is some rough pats on your back that feel more like the heimlich maneuver. Let's hope you caught him after he's brushed his teeth, at least.

(Human Vincent tastes like Cigarettes, beer, and whatever candy he popped in his mouth in hopes of ridding the taste of ciggies and beer.)

Amon:

The first occupational hazard lies in his teeth. They're very sharp. He has bitten off his own tongue before in several occasions. OW??? The second lies in his nice, plush yet firm body being a MUSCLE DEATHTRAP where he might squeeze you a little too hard and save you money on your next chiropractic appointment. (Actually, maybe still go to the chiropractor.) After that? He's a great kisser. He practices good hygiene (he has to lead Adra by example!) and smells like body spray used tastefully.

Amon tastes like a minty, mouthwashed mouth with a hint of copper. You try not to think about it too hard.

Eric!!

His mouth tastes like... Nothing? And not like mouth-nothing, more like water-nothing. His ability as a state-shifter makes all of the cells in his body convert into the cellular equivalent of a sea salp. Even though his humanoid form keeps these aspects of his body in a dormant state, where they process and function like normal, the green parts still retain that odd texture and quality to them. Of course, if he eats or drinks something that tastelessness is going to change.

Eric might also taste like pizza, cheap alcohol, toothpaste, or... lime Cool Aide?

Strohl!

Kissing a man who is basically a living electrical generator is not a good idea??? He tastes and feels like television static, and sometimes you hear some sparks actually flying on his end. He assures you that he has it under control, but in the same breath tells you not to surprise him if you wear conductive jewelry. Okay. This is fine.

Some say they like the feel of the static. Others take their leave early. He can't really blame them, so they leave, their NDA signed and a digital check bestowed to them. Katya is the first woman who was entirely immune to his power, and that made him feel much more secure with holding her close.

Strohl tastes like TV static, expensive liquor, and whatever dessert he's eaten earlier. He's a fan of sweets despite his workout regimen not permitting them.

Honorable mentions:

Titan tastes like blood,

Cain tastes like raw flesh and he will bite your tongue,

Karin Eris tastes like black licorice and your tears,

General Hayes tastes like your pillow and you realize it was, in fact, your pillow,

Aurelius tastes like a clean mouth that is getting a bit too high in temperature and oh god his power is on- TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!!

Farmer Dev tastes like those crisp root vegetables that have no implicit taste but are still classified as "green" tasting. Also peppermint- she chews a lot of it on the go.

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - TWELVE

Blitzø stepped off the elevator at Lust and let the stream of unwashed creeps pull him along until he was unceremoniously deposited on the street somewhere in the Tits District.

He didn’t really know his way around this ring anymore, not since splitting with Verosika. But there were plenty of clearly marked pornographic signs to tell him where he was. He’d figure it out. Besides, all he had to do was look up to find what he was looking for.

Ah there’s the rooster f*cker’s tower over there.

Blitzø stood with difficulty. Sodden from the gutter and unsure if it was just rainwater that clung to him, he gave himself a shake trying to get as much of the yuck off as he could. He made himself dizzy.

Ah f*ck. The drugs are wearing off…

Blitzø caught himself before he back teetered into the street. The neon lights were so bright. He tried to shield his eyes.

F*ck. This shit is starting to hurt…

Blitzø clung to a lamp post and swallowed hard. He felt a cold sweat dripping down his neck. His senses were in overload. He could hear the lights buzzing. The street’s stench made him gag. The neons scorched his retinas. The rain felt like acid… And Lust didn’t rain acid.

Gotta get outta here…

Blitzø started to stumble as quickly as he could in the direction of Asmodeus’s tower.

After what felt like an eternity and five minutes, Blitzø reached the tower and ran for the doors. He stumbled, shot through the revolving doors, across the lobby and slammed into the front desk, horns first.

Blitzø lay crumpled on the floor and twitched like a squashed bug.

A succubus leaned over the desk and looked down at him.

“Do you have an appointment?”

*****

[ohtobeleah]

Okay I have to ask what’s Riley like when she grows up?

Riley keeps a pretty low profile. She’s the middle child between a teenage delinquent and a child prodigy soccer player. She loves surfing and Rooster. Every chance they get they’re on the water. And when Bradley’s deployed Riley feels closet to her dad when she’s in the water—knowing he’s on some carrier somewhere.

But she’s smart, so fucking smart. Bit of a tomboy, loves nature and has no problem telling anyone to go touch some grass if they’re pissing her off.

But I feel like in her adult life she keeps her passion for surfing—it’s a hobby that helps clear her mind from the acid mustard shit that is her law degree. She backs herself with the law and then takes on the world. She wants to make a differences.

She’s a domestic violence advocate for woman who can’t speak for themselves. She defends women in court who normally wouldn’t be heard. Uses her mums old court case filings to set precedence. She’s a force to be reckoned with in her power suit, Bradshaw genetics, and Y/l/n attitude.

[crazyk-imagine]

Apologies and Slutty Germs

Based on this post

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright," you yanked Jake into the room by his collar, reminding Mickey of a Scooby Doo episode.

The man chuckles to himself before brushing off Reuben and Bob's stares.

The two raise their brow at one another, hoping the other will understand what's going on inside his head. Surprise, they don't.

"Some of you may know why we're here."

"Say it!" Neal shouts from the back of the bar.

"Out loud!" Logan adds.

You roll your eyes, "would you two stop quoting twilight for two seconds and focus?" You jerk the man around and return to the topic of the hour. "Jake."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You have to apologize to the squad."

"I don't think so."

You narrow your eyes and pull him closer, whispering a non-negotiable threat in his ear.

He sighs, "unfuck you... or whatever."

"Finally," Natasha throws her hands up. "If we're all satisfied-"

"There's one person he can't unfuck," Bradley mumbles.

You shudder and shove him away. "Gross! Now I need to dip myself in acid and clean myself."

"You're so dramatic."

"And you're so slutty. Go bang your little chicken somewhere else." You turn to the girls. "Follow me ladies, mama needs a drink while the sluts open their revolving doors."

"It's been the two of us," Bradley points out.

"Great now I have Rooster germs," you whine.

"I am not that bad."

"And Hangman germs, even worse."

"They're just being dramatic," Jake chimes in.

-

Top Gun + Top Gun: Maverick Taglist

@blueoorchid @kmc1989

[katiesharms]

The Lover one was amazing, but what about YOUR fav T Swift song with hangster

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long because i couldn't figure out my fave tswift song. but i've decided (it's subject to change)

the archer - taylor swift they see right through me/do you see right through me?

jake learned a long time ago that the best offense is a good defense. that high walls and an impenetrable facade will keep him safer than anything else he's tried. underneath it all, his heart is still tender; his underbelly is still soft. all it takes is one well aimed press of a boot heel, and he's bleeding over the pristine porcelain tile of his carefully constructed persona.

he tries as hard as he can to make sure no one is able to find those places on him where the skin hasn't grown back over the wound, where his heart is there for the taking.

it gets harder after the mission.

jake's hangman shield starts to slip. gradually at first, as he becomes closer to the other pilots. joking with them and letting them in on his fear of heights. but then it begins to slip further.

rooster starts playing 'cat's in the cradle' one night at the hard deck, and jake freezes, just for a moment. when he comes back to himself, phoenix is watching him carefully. fanboy throws an arm around him on the beach to ask jake something, and his breath smells so strongly of beer that jake flinches. when he looks up, bob has his brow furrowed.

it comes to a head their first time in the air after the mission.

jake flies fine. well, even. he hits his marks and executes his maneuvers, textbook perfect. then he climbs out of the jet, walks over to the edge of the carrier, and pukes his guts out into the pacific ocean. when he pulls back, the bitter acid taste coating his mouth, he makes eye contact with rooster.

jake hopes the other man forgets it. he knows that's a wild dream, but still. he and rooster aren't friends. sure, they aren't as hostile as they once were. jake's started to lower his defenses, let people in. he doesn't use combat as the default mood of interaction anymore, and their relationship is better for it.

but there's an edge of uncertainty between them. like neither of them know what to do when they're not actively hating one another. of all the people to see behind the mask of hangman, jake's the most worried about rooster.

that night, there's a knock on jake's door.

it's rooster on the other side, looking as uncertain as jake has ever seen him. more at sea than right before he got in an f-18 and flew an impossible mission. jake doesn't know if he likes what that says about bradley's perception of him.

he opens the door cautiously.

"you need something?" he asks instead of greeting the other man.

"can i, uh. can i come in?" rooster asks hesitantly, hands stuffed in his pockets.

jake doesn't answer but does swing the door open wider, stepping over to let bradley in.

"i fear i don't have much to offer you in terms of hospitality, but if you want a glass of tap water or a cider, i can get one for you."

"i noticed that," bradley says almost under his breath.

"huh?" jake can't help but ask, grabbing two ciders from the fridge.

"it's always cider, never beer. whenever you're drinking."

"oh," jake says dumbly. "i'm not a big beer guy."

it's an easier answer than explaining how the smell of it still makes his stomach churn, over a decade out of his father's house. bradley seems to understand it anyway.

"so, why are you here?" jake asks bluntly.

"i wanted to make sure you're okay," bradley says carefully, studying the way jake peels at the label of his cider.

"i'm fine," jake answers shortly, really not wanting to get into this with rooster of all people. anyone else would've been easier to stomach, but something about it being rooster, bradley, in jake's kitchen, asking him if he's okay, is too much.

"are you sure? because you lost your lunch to the ocean today," bradley pushes.

"jesus, rooster, i said i'm fine. leave it."

bradley does for a minute, sipping his cider silently. then he speaks again.

"you know, ever since the mission, my hands have been shaking. at night, when i'm reliving it. when i think about flying. it's why they haven't cleared me yet."

jake had been wondering about that. about why all of them are back in training protocols and bradley is stuck on the ground.

"so," bradley continues, "if you ever want to talk about it, i'm here."

something twists in jake's gut.

"is that what you want from me? some kind of trauma buddy?" his tone is a bit too nasty for the circumstances, but jake can't help it.

"well, no," bradley frowns. "i want-" he starts and stops, taking a deep breath. "i want a lot more than that from you. but i figured we could start small."

"we're not friends," jake practically sneers. "if you're here out of some misguided pity, just leave."

bradley's eyes widen. "that's not why i'm here, jake. i mean, how many people in the world understand what we've been through? i just thought, i dunno. we could do this together."

"there's nothing wrong with me," jake insists, feeling himself shrink.

"i never said that," bradley says firmly. "look, we understand each other in a way maybe no one else ever will. why can't we be there for each other? i want," bradley pauses, sucking in a breath. "i want to be there for you."

"you mean that? because you can't come here and say all this shit and then not follow through. i can't deal with that, not from you."

bradley gets up slowly, rounding on jake and cupping his chin gently.

"i mean it, jake. we can hold onto each other."

"what else do you want?" jake asks, voice a whisper.

bradley smiles softly. "i mean, i'd like to take you on a date. if you're interested."

jake feels like crying. he feels like flying.

"i'd be interested," he confirms, and bradley breaks out into a grin. "one condition, though."

"anything."

"kiss me."

bradley obliges.

[acemxce]

lust things

Lust is the blue one so Ring 5 of Hell. beneath greed and above envy.

blue skies. no visible suns like wrath or moons though in later shots we get stars. so seems to always be dark and moody. rains often in like every episode lust is shown. not acid rain like is implied in pride tho cause hellborn are fine walking under it.

neon cityscape skyline. architecture makes me think of a mix between vegas and new orleans. lots of balconies. puns puns puns. honestly at least the parts of the ring we've been shown seem more focused on like. tourism for other types of hellborn. lots of brothels, strip joints and clubs. its giving the vegas strip, so I assume outside of these denser areas is like normal suburbs and places for lust demons to live. on top of sex toys and kink equipment/gear their other biggest export is of course prostitution.

King Asmodeus's tower/palace. personal residence and attached(?) to his factory? everything leads us to believe this is morning but still dark so guessing lust is in perpetual night. (which is ironic considering ozzie is a giant rooster). seemingly tallest building in lust which makes sense

they have waterways. mote/channel? maybe lust is like a bunch of islands or like italy with lots of waterways

everything is bisexual lighting

another thing to note is that lust is a lot cleaner than other rings we've seen. there's damage, wear and tear but like every place would have that. by comparison lust seems really well kept and cared for.

[arianrhodaromatics]

Glow Naturally: Transform Your Skincare Routine with Organic Products

In today's fast-paced world, achieving radiant and healthy skin is not just a desire but a necessity. Our skin is the largest organ of the body, serving as a protective barrier against environmental aggressors. With the constant exposure to pollutants, UV radiation, and other harmful factors, maintaining a proper skincare routine has become indispensable. However, the choice of skincare products is equally crucial, as they directly impact our skin's health and appearance. In recent years, there has been a significant shift towards using organic products, driven by a growing awareness of the benefits they offer. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore how you can transform your skincare routine with organic products, unlocking the secrets to naturally glowing skin.

Understanding Organic Skincare

Organic skincare revolves around the use of natural ingredients derived from plants, herbs, and other organic sources. Unlike conventional skincare products that may contain synthetic chemicals and artificial fragrances, organic products are formulated with ingredients that are cultivated without the use of pesticides, herbicides, or genetically modified organisms (GMOs). The fundamental principle of organic skincare lies in harnessing the power of nature to nourish and rejuvenate the skin while minimizing exposure to potentially harmful substances.

The Science Behind Organic Ingredients

Organic skincare products are not just a trend; they are backed by scientific research that validates their efficacy. Natural ingredients such as botanical extracts, essential oils, and plant-based antioxidants possess unique properties that benefit the skin. For instance, ingredients like aloe vera, chamomile, and green tea are known for their soothing and anti-inflammatory effects, making them ideal for sensitive or irritated skin. Additionally, organic oils like jojoba, argan, and rosehip oil are rich in essential fatty acids and vitamins, providing deep hydration and nourishment without clogging pores.

Common Organic Ingredients

One of the key advantages of organic skincare is the abundance of beneficial ingredients it offers. From potent antioxidants to skin-replenishing vitamins, organic products are packed with nutrients that promote skin health. Here are some commonly used organic ingredients and their benefits:

Aloe Vera: Renowned for its moisturizing and healing properties, aloe vera helps soothe sunburns, reduce inflammation, and promote skin regeneration.

Coconut Oil: With its antimicrobial and antioxidant properties, coconut oil is a versatile ingredient that moisturizes the skin, fights acne-causing bacteria, and prevents premature aging.

Hyaluronic Acid: Derived from natural sources such as rooster combs or fermentation of yeast, hyaluronic acid is a hydrating powerhouse that retains moisture in the skin, improving elasticity and firmness.

Shea Butter: Extracted from the nuts of the shea tree, shea butter is rich in vitamins A, E, and F, making it an excellent emollient for dry, dehydrated skin. It also has anti-inflammatory properties that soothe irritation and promote skin repair.

Transitioning to an Organic Skincare Routine

Making the switch to organic skincare may seem daunting at first, but with the right approach, it can be a rewarding journey towards healthier skin. Here are some tips to help you transition seamlessly:

Do Your Research: Take the time to educate yourself about organic skincare brands, ingredients, and certifications. Look for products that are certified organic by reputable organizations such as USDA or COSMOS to ensure their authenticity and quality.

Start Slowly: Begin by incorporating one or two organic products into your existing skincare routine and gradually expand from there. This allows your skin to adjust to the new ingredients and prevents potential sensitivities or reactions.

Read Labels Carefully: Pay attention to the ingredient list on skincare products and avoid those containing synthetic fragrances, parabens, sulfates, and other harmful chemicals. Opt for products with simple, transparent formulations that prioritize natural ingredients.

Listen to Your Skin: Everyone's skin is unique, so it's essential to pay attention to how your skin responds to different products. If you experience any irritation or discomfort, discontinue use and try a different product or formulation.

The Environmental Impact of Organic Skincare

In addition to benefiting your skin, choosing organic skincare products can also have positive implications for the environment. Organic farming practices promote biodiversity, reduce soil erosion, and minimize the use of synthetic pesticides and fertilizers, which can contaminate water sources and harm wildlife. By supporting brands that prioritize sustainability and eco-conscious packaging, you can minimize your carbon footprint and contribute to a healthier planet.

DIY Organic Skincare Recipes

For those who prefer a hands-on approach to skincare, creating homemade organic products can be a fun and rewarding experience. With simple ingredients readily available in your kitchen, you can whip up luxurious treatments tailored to your skin's needs. Here are a few DIY recipes to get you started:

Hydrating Honey Mask: Mix one tablespoon of raw honey with one teaspoon of coconut oil and a few drops of lavender essential oil. Apply to clean, dry skin and leave on for 15-20 minutes before rinsing off with warm water.

Gentle Exfoliating Scrub: Combine equal parts of finely ground oats and organic yogurt to create a gentle exfoliating scrub. Massage onto damp skin in circular motions, then rinse thoroughly with lukewarm water.

Nourishing Body Butter: Melt together equal parts of shea butter, cocoa butter, and coconut oil in a double boiler. Once melted, add a few drops of your favorite essential oil for fragrance, then pour into a clean container and allow to cool and solidify.

Addressing Challenges and Misconceptions

Despite the numerous benefits of organic skincare, there are still some misconceptions and challenges associated with it. Here are a few common myths debunked:

Organic Products are Less Effective: While some may perceive organic skincare as less potent than conventional products, many organic ingredients have been scientifically proven to deliver results comparable to their synthetic counterparts.

Organic Skincare is Expensive: While organic skincare products may have a higher upfront cost compared to mass-market brands, they often offer better value in the long run. Investing in high-quality, nutrient-rich formulations can lead to healthier skin and fewer skincare issues over time.

Organic Skincare is Only for Certain Skin Types: Organic skincare is suitable for all skin types, including sensitive, oily, dry, and combination skin. With a diverse range of products available, there is something for everyone, regardless of their skin concerns.

Organic Skincare for Different Skin Types

When it comes to organic skincare, one size does not fit all. Each skin type has unique needs and requires specific ingredients and formulations to address them effectively. Here's how to tailor your organic skincare routine to your skin type:

Dry Skin: Look for rich, nourishing products that contain hydrating ingredients like hyaluronic acid, shea butter, and avocado oil. Avoid harsh cleansers and opt for gentle, creamy formulations that replenish moisture without stripping the skin.

Oily Skin: Choose lightweight, non-comedogenic products that help regulate oil production and minimize pores. Ingredients like tea tree oil, witch hazel, and salicylic acid are beneficial for balancing oily skin and preventing breakouts.

Sensitive Skin: Opt for fragrance-free, hypoallergenic products formulated

to be gentle on sensitive skin. Look for soothing ingredients such as chamomile, oatmeal, and calendula, which help calm inflammation and reduce redness. Patch testing new products before full application can help prevent adverse reactions and irritation.

Incorporating Organic Skincare into Your Lifestyle

Beyond just skincare products, adopting an organic skincare routine is part of a holistic approach to wellness. Here are some ways to integrate organic skincare into your lifestyle:

Eat a Healthy Diet: Nutrient-rich foods such as fruits, vegetables, and whole grains provide essential vitamins and antioxidants that support skin health from the inside out. Incorporating organic produce into your diet ensures that you're minimizing exposure to pesticides and other harmful chemicals.

Stay Hydrated: Drinking an adequate amount of water is crucial for maintaining hydrated and radiant skin. Opt for filtered or spring water whenever possible to avoid contaminants commonly found in tap water.

Practice Sun Protection: Protecting your skin from the sun's harmful UV rays is essential for preventing premature aging and reducing the risk of skin cancer. Choose organic sunscreen formulations that use mineral-based ingredients like zinc oxide or titanium dioxide, which provide broad-spectrum protection without harmful chemicals.

Practice Mindful Living: Stress can take a toll on your skin, leading to breakouts, inflammation, and other skin issues. Incorporate relaxation techniques such as meditation, yoga, or deep breathing exercises into your daily routine to promote inner calm and reduce stress-related skin problems.

Case Studies and Testimonials

The effectiveness of organic skincare is best illustrated through real-life experiences. Here are some inspiring stories from individuals who have experienced remarkable transformations with organic products:

Sarah's Story: After struggling with sensitive, acne-prone skin for years, Sarah decided to switch to organic skincare products. Within weeks of using gentle, natural formulations, she noticed a significant improvement in her skin's texture and clarity. Now, Sarah enjoys a radiant complexion without the need for harsh chemicals or medications.

Michael's Testimonial: As a busy professional constantly exposed to environmental pollutants and stress, Michael's skin began to show signs of premature aging and fatigue. Upon discovering the benefits of organic skincare, he revamped his routine with antioxidant-rich serums and moisturizers. The result? Firmer, more youthful-looking skin that reflects his inner vitality.

The Future of Organic Skincare

The future of skincare is undoubtedly green. With consumers becoming more conscientious about the ingredients they put on their skin and the impact of their purchasing decisions on the environment, the demand for organic skincare is expected to continue rising. Here are some trends and innovations shaping the future of organic skincare:

Clean Beauty Movement: The clean beauty movement emphasizes transparency, sustainability, and safety in skincare formulations. Brands are increasingly focusing on clean, non-toxic ingredients and eco-friendly packaging to meet consumer demands for ethical and responsible products.

Technology Integration: From advanced extraction techniques to biodegradable packaging solutions, technology is playing a significant role in the evolution of organic skincare. Innovations such as plant stem cell technology, green chemistry, and 3D printing are revolutionizing the way organic products are formulated, packaged, and delivered to consumers.

Personalized Skincare: With advancements in AI and data analytics, personalized skincare solutions tailored to individual skin concerns and preferences are becoming more accessible. Brands are leveraging technology to analyze skin data, formulate custom blends, and track progress over time, offering consumers a personalized and effective skincare experience.

Conclusion

In conclusion, organic skincare offers a natural and sustainable approach to achieving radiant, healthy skin. By harnessing the power of nature and avoiding harmful chemicals, organic products nourish and rejuvenate the skin, leaving it glowing from within. Whether you're dealing with acne, dryness, or premature aging, there's an organic solution for every skin concern. By embracing organic skincare practices and incorporating them into your lifestyle, you can not only enhance your skin's appearance but also contribute to a cleaner, greener planet.

[shinycupcakebaker]

And…. I think I’m getting sick. Went to bed last night with a scratchy throat and then woke up, coughing, with the worst acid reflux. I could taste it blegh!! (Sorry, tmi)

Got me some mucinex and thankfully, I have tomorrow off. Will try to write something.

But right now.. I’d really appreciate it if some could send Bob Floyd or Rooster my way to cuddle thank you

[thebahwrites]

The most memorable scene in Killshot for me is split into two actually. The first scene is from the first chapter when Bradley and Ice are talking about why Bradley left and the second scene is when Maverick and Ice talk about the reformation of the dagger squad. Both scenes demonstrate my two favorite relationships from the Top Gun fandom which are the deep familial relationship that exists between Ice and Bradley and the trust filled devotion between Ice and Maverick. In truth the whole story is incredibly memory and is a definite stand out for me but those two scenes above all draw me back for rereads.

SORRY IT TOOK ME A SECOND TO RESPOND TO THIS ONE BECAUSE....... it was the last one I got and I loved it, as always and God writing the family scenes are my favorite always. I love their relationship so much.

and also because I'm getting in the groove of it and finishing chapter 7....

here's a rooster & maverick tidbit from killshot ch.7 that I'm posting soon

“Captain Bradshaw!” It’s so rare for Special Forces Agents to be openly called by their military ranking that it almost stuns Rooster in place — even worse being the fact it was hearing the brand new rank just like this. Twisting on the balls of his feet. He’s standing by the Blackbird, waiting for the team to start pouring in so they can leave.

The person that had called him out was no one other than Maverick. Holding on to his helmet, ready to take them into the bird and get their show on the road.

“Jesus Mav, what?” Nerves lit up under his skin like he’d been stuck under boiling water, his gut feeling full of acid stones, heavy and acrid, maybe his voice comes out a little higher pitched than normal. Maverick gives him a once over, they’re standing toe to toe. Rooster clears his throat.

“Breathe.” The shorter man puts a hand on his forearm, voice steady and calm as always, holding him with a firm grip and their eyes meet. Bradley is stepping into Pete’s shoes for the first time ever and it’s wracking every ounce of confidence in his body. That is, until Maverick holds his free hand out. He stares down at it before reaching to grab it into a firm grip.

They steady each other.

Rooster can’t help feeling like he’s seventeen all over again, just a little before everything went south. Like he’s standing in an open field, just him and Maverick, one hand outstretched as he’d been knocked to the ground during a sparring session, his godfather smiling brightly at him. They’d been partners for so long before and maybe it was the Maverick effect on everything but right now, after all the fighting and the anger and the hurt, it felt like time suddenly hadn’t passed at all. 

Unwavering, Maverick nods. “Just remember, Rooster, what’s the most important thing?”

The question, as funny as it was, eases every worry. Knits Bradley’s brows together as he fixes his posture, looking down at Maverick and nodding, their hands holding on to each other, keeping the sky above their heads. Together again, after so long.

“Everyone comes home.” And he’s never been so sure of something else before.

[pansexualkiba]

fuck the results of the poll. hear about my monk character. here’s my unedited ramblings

basically, a wild junglefowl was mistaken for a regular-degular rooster and was promptly captured and sold to a witch

the witch, who had initially bought it for spells and shit, then went. "wait. i need a chicken. this isn't a chicken."

like, they're close in relation, but magic is weirdly precise about this sort of thing so the witch is just like "well i can't very well go get a refund. guess i'll just start throwing spells at this thing and see what sticks."

this eventually led to the junglefowl gaining humanlike sapience and speech abilities. upon which he promptly used his new humanlike intelligence to break the fuck out and

and fly. the coop. i didn't fucking mean for that to be the takeaway but yknow what

anyways Ayam is now just an awakened junglefowl, who is only a Monk class because

1) as a semi-flightless bird, Ayam is inherently attuned to ki 2) Ayam doesn't have opposable thumbs. because he's a junglefowl. so being the one class that benefits from having No Weapons is literally the best thing he can do.

Ayam's subclass, by the way, is Way of the Ascendant Dragon. because i want you to envision a slightly smaller rooster. and now imagine it with an acid breath weapon.

basically it's half to solve Ayam's natural range problems. and half because i am genuinely enamored with a storyline of some bitchass bird from the middle of the jungle eventually becoming a pseudo-dragon