#and so many other familiar faces in that pilot

[tinderbox210]

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ALxjDryRgU

Found this today, thought you'd love it - 🤡

Sweet anon, I love it so much!!! You have no idea how much! I have no idea how you found this gem, but I appreciate it so much that you shared it with me! Thank you so much!!!

It's Allison! **squealing** I always love seeing new/old footage of her!

And this is just gold for my Lucket AU heart!!! There are dialog bits that would just be perfect with that guy she calls Luke which can be short for LUCAS, and then she falls for that a guy living in the woods!!! And there's an important place at a waterfall! Geez, this AU practically creates itself!

This also makes me want to do another supernatural AU with Ash's Fear Street stuff.

@alchemypanda I don't know if you've seen this before or intent to make another Lucket video, but if you do, I think there's stuff in that that pilot you could use.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

All The Pretty Girls - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by All The Pretty Girls by Kenny Chesney.

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: sickeningly sweet Bob fluff.

word count: 3.1k

I'm home for the summer, shoot out the lights Don't blow my cover, oh I'm free tonight I'm coming over, call all your friends "Somebody hold me", all the pretty girls said All of the whiskey, went to my head "Shut up and kiss me", all the pretty girls said

Bob took in a deep breath as he walked up the long, dirt pathway that lead to his parents’ farmhouse. It’d been months since he’d been back in Kentucky - years, even, and as he approached the sounds of the party his family was throwing in the backyard, he felt himself fighting harder and harder to resist the overwhelming urge to turn around and run as fast as he could back to his rental car, hop in and catch the next flight back to San Diego. He contemplated the excuses he could come up with to explain his sudden disappearance, but before he had a chance to figure out the minor details, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Bobby! There’s our favourite lil pilot!”

His uncle shouted from across the yard, coming over to him with a firm slap on the shoulder as he greeted him. Bob tried not to cringe at the juvenile nickname his family still called him - he hated being called Bobby. No one back in San Diego knew him as anything other than Bob - it felt more grown up. He was the baby in his family, often called Bobby in a condescending way to remind him of how much younger he was than everyone else.

He’d been the surprise baby in the family - born unexpectedly when his mother was 37, following behind four older sisters who were 6, 8, 11 and 13 when he was born. Now, at 32, Bob felt himself recoil internally everytime someone called him that, especially if it was his family. His dozen nieces and nephews were about the only ones he’d tolerate it from, and occasionally his grandmother - who at this point was over 90 years old, and who was he to tell her no?

Bob adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, forcing a smile as he turned to face his boisterous family. Growing up, he’d always wondered if he was adopted - he was quiet, reserved, and shy - the complete opposite of everyone in his family tree. In fact, it was a running joke with his older sister Kate that he was adopted. He believed it for a while when he was 6 - it explained so much about him, or so he thought. Until, that was, the moment that his eldest sister, the often bossy and in control Jennifer, pulled out the home videos that had been recorded when Bob was born - a sight that Bob still couldn’t erase from his memory, regardless of how hard he tried to.

“I’m not so little anymore, Uncle Don,” Bob said with a sheepish smile as his uncle pulled him in for a bear hug.

“No, s’pose you aren’t now, are ya? You got yourself a little lady now, Bobby?”

“Not yet. I’ve been busy - haven’t been stateside in months, actually. This is my first chance at leave in over a year. Just never bothered taking it, I guess.”

That was a lie - Bob had taken a couple weeks leave last year, but he spent it at his home in San Diego, refreshing the decor and repainting to make it more to his tastes and basking in the peaceful quiet of his new space. He’d spent a day or two wandering around downtown San Diego with his friend, Bradley, the two of them exploring the area together - Bradley showing Bob all the sites he’d remembered from photographs and childhood memories. Bob couldn’t tell his family that though - they’d be crushed to learn that he had time off and chose not to spend it with them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he was sure of it. He just didn’t want to field all the questions he knew came with each visit. Nothing was off limits to his family - his love life, relationships, his personal details - he’d lost count of how many phone calls included a casual “So, meet anyone special yet, Bobby?”. He knew they meant well, but God, was he ever tired of it.

That was the other thing he’d grown tired of - watching his language all the time. His family was religious - far more so than he’d ever been, and the idea of swearing and cursing was scandalous to them, but it was something Bob’d grown used to in his 14 years serving in the Navy, between the Academy and on base. Trying to curb it around his family members was a task in and of itself.

“Robert!” His mother's arrival interrupted his ruminations, her fervent embrace enveloping him in a maternal cocoon. "Your accent's gone already, I knew California would be bad for you," she lamented, a tinge of jest lacing her words.

“Hi Ma, missed you,” He nodded, hugging her back firmly with a smile, “Relax, Ma, I’m still a Southern boy at heart, even if I don’t sound like it. Two of the guys in my squad are from the South too. Jake’s from Texas, Bradley’s from Virginia. I’ll probably find my accent again soon now that I’m stationed with them at North Island. At Lemoore I wasn’t paired up with anyone from here.”

“Ooh, Robert,” she said softly, rubbing his shoulder as she spoke to him, “There’s someone who’s been askin’ ‘bout you.”

Bob was about to ask who it was when the question was answered for him. He turned in the direction his mother was facing and felt his cheeks flush a bright red as he saw you. You and Bob had been friends as children - best friends, in fact. You’d kept in contact over the years, but eventually, around your 24th birthdays, the hangouts became less frequent, the phone calls grew further apart and texts took longer to answer, until eventually, they stopped. Standing in front of him now, eight years later, he couldn’t imagine for the life of him why he ever stopped talking to you.

His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, visions of what life would have been like if he’d manned up and asked you out. If he’d decided to risk it all in high school and take you to prom, or if he’d asked you out when you went to university a couple hours drive away from the Naval Academy. He figured he probably would have married you, if given the chance to go back and do it again. Own a house with a big yard, a half a dozen kids running around, some just like him, with sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and some just like you - a vision of beauty in his mind.

He snapped back to reality when he felt you wrap your arms around him, a wide smile spreading across your face. He hugged you firmly, not wanting to make his sudden desire to hold you close evident. For all he knew, you could be married with a family by this point - it wouldn’t be odd at all, not now in your early thirties. In fact, he felt like he was the odd one out compared to everyone he’d grown up around in Kentucky. Most of the people he’d gone to school with were parents to kids approaching third grade.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you pulled back from Bob’s embrace, sporting a warm, friendly grin.

“Yeah, it’s great seeing you too. Wow, it’s uh…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Eight years, give or take.” You nodded quickly, shrugging the idea off as you met Bob’s cobalt blue eyes, finding it hard not to get yourself lost in them. He always did have the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, framed perfectly now by silver wire framed glasses.

“How have you been?” He smiled as he guided you over towards the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and turning to look at you, “You want some sweet tea?”

“I’d love some, thanks Bob,” you nodded, remembering that he preferred going by that now that he was older.

As Bob poured two glasses of his mom’s homemade sweet tea for each of you, your eyes wandered over him, taking in the sight before you. The last time you’d seen him, Bob still resembled the teenage boy you’d crushed on throughout high school, but now, standing in his place, was a man. He stood at a solid six foot one, his blonde hair neatly combed, and a more adult style pair of wire glasses adorning his face, as opposed to the thick, dark square frames he wore throughout the time you knew him.

“I’ve been good,” you nodded slowly as you sipped the cool, brown liquid, the notes of lemon, sugar and black tea dancing on your tongue, “How about you? I heard you’re stationed out west now?”

“Yeah, I was at Lemoore, which is further north in California, but now I’m at North Island, in Coronado. Just outside of San Diego, actually. Other side of the bay.”

“How do you like it there? Bet the weather’s great, like, all the time, isn’t it? Much better than what I get out in D.C.”

“You’re in D.C. now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling softly, “Never left after college.”

Bob listened empathetically as you filled him in on everything he’d missed in your life over the past eight years. As you spoke, he couldn’t help but feel his attention wavering, not because he wasn’t interested in what you had to say, but because he couldn’t help but envision all the things that could’ve happened had he been brave enough to ask you out earlier. He wanted to kick himself for not trying for you - he’d always been fond of you. The sheer thought of you asking about him, and coming back to Kentucky to see him when he came home was enough to make him think of how much he’d screwed up before.

You felt yourself rambling nervously as you talked to Bob, trying to avoid any awkward silence between the two of you. You were so relieved to have this moment with him - just to talk to him again. You heard he was single, and you knew you still had unresolved feelings for him so when your mom had told you about the homecoming barbecue that Mrs. Floyd was planning for him, you knew you had to make the drive home, just to see what could’ve been between you both, and to see if anything remained between you.

As the night carried on, you felt yourself falling further and further for Bob - and now, you were left wondering why you hadn’t been bold enough to ask him out before. Why now, when it was the least convenient for the two of you, had to be when you realized this. You lived on the complete opposite coasts from one another - a six hour flight spanning the United States between the two of you. Although, the more time spent with Bob that evening, the more you found yourself considering taking a transfer to your job’s California office. Los Angeles was a much more doable three hour drive to San Diego - you could manage driving three hours every few days to see him if you needed to.

By 9pm, the party had dwindled down to a few members of Bob’s family, his parents, and you - everyone else having turned in for the night or headed home earlier. You, however, were staying a couple of houses away at your parents’ home, and could manage to stay as long as Bob wanted you to. He looked around the party, and, upon realizing he wouldn’t be missed anymore if he disappeared, he took you by the hand playfully, leading you to the old tree at the back of the property.

Nestled in the tree sat the treehouse you’d spent so many hours in together as kids, looking completely unchanged from when you’d last seen it. Bob smiled as he started climbing up the makeshift ladder, looking back at you with a mischievous grin - one you hadn’t seen in him since you were children.

“You comin’?” he ribbed playfully as he swung himself up into the treehouse, reaching his hand down to offer you help.

You shook your head, laughing at how ridiculous you felt, but quickly climbed your way up the tree to join him. He helped you into the treehouse, smirking at you as he adjusted his glasses. The treehouse was still decorated the way you’d left it - old toys sitting out on the table, a small toy chest full of Nerf guns and playing cards, a couple of toy cars and action figures joining them. Bob picked one of the action figures up, laughing as he held it in his hands, as if all the memories of you two playing together came flooding back at once.

“I forgot about this place,” you mused softly, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of forgotten treasures.

Bob nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips as he regarded the toy with a mix of fondness and amusement.

"Yeah, my nieces and nephews use it I guess sometimes. Glad to see they've left Batman intact for me though," he remarked, lifting the action figure as if to emphasize its importance.

A nostalgic chuckle bubbled up within you as you recalled the shared adventures of your childhood. "Hey, I remember that one! Batman used to come in and rescue Barbie for me all the time."

A playful glint danced in Bob's eyes as he remembered those innocent days of make-believe. "And then you insisted that Batman had to kiss Barbie."

"Listen, Barbie wanted to thank him," you protested with a playful grin, memories of imaginative play flooding back with each word.

"I think you just watched too many romcoms," Bob teased, his voice laced with affectionate banter.

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but laugh at the playful exchange, the echoes of your shared history ringing through the air. But as your laughter subsided, you found yourself drawn once more to Bob's gaze, the warmth of familiarity mingling with the weight of unspoken questions.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if we dated in high school?" you ventured, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting past and present.

"All the time, actually," Bob admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"I always figured I'd end up marrying you," you nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and sincerity as you confessed the thought that had lingered in the depths of your mind for far too long.

The air seemed to crackle with tension as your words hung in the space between you, each syllable echoing with the weight of unspoken truths and long-held desires. Across from you, Bob's expression shifted, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his features before settling into a mask of gentle surprise.

The soft glow of the evening sun cast golden hues upon the scene, lending an ethereal quality to the moment as you both grappled with the revelation that hung heavy in the air. For a heartbeat, the world around you seemed to stand still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come next.

Bob's gaze softened, his cobalt eyes reflecting the vulnerability mirrored in your own. "I… I never knew you felt that way," he admitted, his voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of fading daylight.

A rush of uncertainty washed over you, mingling with the warmth of raw honesty that spilled from your lips. "I think I just, pushed it away, you know? I didn’t want us to stop being friends over it or anything as kids." you confessed, your words a whispered confession carried on the breeze.

Silence enveloped you once more, punctuated only by the distant chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. In the quiet of the moment, the weight of unspoken possibilities hung heavy between you, a delicate dance of hope and fear weaving its way through the air.

Then, with a soft exhale, Bob reached across the space between you, his hand finding yours with a gentle certainty that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "Maybe… maybe we should talk about this," he suggested, his voice tentative yet filled with a quiet resolve.

As his fingers intertwined with yours, you felt a surge of courage swell within your chest, buoyed by the warmth of his touch. With a nod, you met his gaze, the tension hanging in the air melting away as you closed the distance between the two of you, locking your lips with his in a gentle, tender kiss.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of pure connection. His lips met yours with a softness that belied the depth of emotion coursing between you, igniting a spark that set your heart ablaze.

The sensation of his breath mingling with yours sent shivers cascading down your spine, each touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced across your skin like a gentle breeze. In that fleeting instant, you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the weight of the world falling away as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

The soft murmur of the evening breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning as you reveled in the sweetness of the moment. His arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies, only the shared warmth of your intertwined souls.

For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist beyond the two of you, each touch a testament to the depth of feeling that bound you together. In the embrace of his arms, you found solace, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of life's uncertainties. As you finally pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered on your lips, a lingering reminder of the passion that pulsed between you.

Bob’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he began to stutter as he spoke, a trait he’d long grown out of. “I, uh, I…um, that was…something,” he managed to spit out before beginning to ramble about how much he enjoyed kissing you.

“Bob,” you began, laughing softly as your hand gently rested on his cheek.

“Mhmm?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

[elvensorceress]

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. 

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself. 

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? 

So Buck answers. 

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice. 

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?” 

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen. 

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there. 

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door. 

~

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney. 

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both. 

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. 

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.” 

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening. 

It can’t be happening. 

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops. 

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him. 

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter. 

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me—  fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach. 

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay. 

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him. 

He knows. 

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this. 

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him. 

Eddie’s blood was all over him. 

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them. 

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together. 

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie. 

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie. 

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several. 

They give him five minutes. 

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something. 

It’s something. 

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie. 

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive. 

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to. 

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters. 

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

That's My Wife - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x airline pilot!reader

Summary: 3.2k words. Rooster and his coworkers drew the short stick and ended up on a commercial civilian flight across the country for specialty flight training in Key West. A certain someone makes the flight and travel woes well worth the trouble for Bradley.

Warnings: none really, just tons of fluff! maybe some cursing & frequent usage of she/her pronouns for the reader

a/n: hi!! i posted a little snippet/preview of this fic last night and def did not expect it to get as much attention as it did. i'm so happy that so many of you were just as excited as me to see the finished product! i hope y'all enjoy it! <3

master list

An advanced specialty flight training at the Naval Air Station in Key West had the best aviators in the U.S. military flocking to the vibrant Florida island. This, of course, included Top Gun’s best graduates.

Rooster, Phoenix, and Hangman all had impressive reputations before the Uranium Plant mission led by Maverick. After that mission? They were nothing short of living legends in the Navy. So, naturally, they were among the pilots being sent out for the rigorous training.

The Navy couldn’t rationalize sending a private charter plane or wasting the fuel needed to transport just a few pilots to a base thousands of miles away, so the three aviators were sent on a commercial flight. Phoenix, Hangman, and Rooster got to experience the joys of civilian travel–long security lines through TSA, insufferably stressed-out travelers, and the overwhelming urge to get wasted at the bar conveniently located near their gate.

Hangman joked that if Rooster weren’t in uniform and instead wearing his typical Hawaiian shirts and jorts, he would’ve fit right in with the other passengers. Phoenix, who gave in and treated herself to a glass of wine, snorted before adding that Rooster was uptight enough then to blend in seamlessly.

Bradley would never admit it, but they were probably right. His one consolation was the smile his boarding pass brought to his face. The airline they were traveling with was familiar to Rooster to say the least.

The three aviators received priority boarding as active-duty military personnel. They sat at the very front of the cabin and Phoenix took the opportunity to people-watch as the rest of the passengers boarded. Hangman busied himself with looking into which Key West nightclubs and bars he could hit up after training while Rooster sent a quick text.

2:37 p.m.  Hey, baby. Just boarded the flight to Key West. I’ll talk to you when we land 😘 – Brad

2:38 p.m.  Have a safe flight, babe 😉💗 – y/n

Rooster chuckled at y/n’s use of a winking emoji before he turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. The flight attendants moved down the center aisle to begin their safety demonstration. Rooster was certain he’d sat through the same speech a thousand times, so he got comfortable and closed his eyes to take a nap.

A crackling from the plane’s speakers preceded what Rooster anticipated to be another relatively boring announcement.

“Good afternoon and welcome aboard, everyone. This is your Captain speaking,” an upbeat feminine voice floated through the aircraft’s speakers. Bradley’s eyes shot open wide and he sat up straight at the sound. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“No way…” he whispered to himself with a surprised smile.

Phoenix and Hangman shared a side-eye glance once they noticed the sudden change in Rooster’s demeanor. The man previously looked bored out of his mind and now he was hanging on to every word of the announcement. A wide grin spread across Rooster’s face while the pilot continued her introduction. As they taxied toward the runway, Hangman’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What is it, Bradshaw?” Jake asked with a raised brow. The bastard couldn’t help but be nosy. Phoenix softly elbowed Hangman in the ribs, but she certainly wasn’t tuning the conversation out. Rooster confidently squared his shoulders and turned to look at them.

“That’s my wife,” Rooster stated proudly, referring to the captain’s voice with a grin.

Hangman’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and Phoenix leaned back with an impressed smile. Rooster’s fellow aviators knew he was married; hell, he wore his wedding ring like a badge of honor. He was quick to reject the frequent flirting he received and would simply raise his left ring finger whenever he was asked out at The Hard Deck–the man was nothing if not loyal. But Rooster was never the type to speak about his personal life at work, much less mention that his wife is also a pilot.

In fact, the only person Rooster worked with that knew anything about y/n was Maverick. Bradley introduced them to each other a few months after they started dating. The younger Navy man knew by the end of their second date that y/n was it for him. It took y/n a little longer to come to the same conclusion, but once she did she never looked back.

Actually, it was Maverick that helped y/n realize just how head-over-heels in love she was with Bradley. He brought y/n to meet his stand-in father figure at Mav’s hanger. In the middle of y/n and Maverick geeking out about all the memorabilia displayed in the hanger and trading flight stories, Rooster ran out to silence his Ford Bronco’s ancient and overly-sensitive car alarm. Pete took the opportunity to let y/n know just how whipped his godson was. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time, y/n. He’s bailed on our dinner plans at least three times in the past month just to get a chance to see you when you’re in the area.” Maverick smiled and clasped y/n’s shoulder. “You’re good for him. I hope he’s good for you too.”

And the rest was history. Just after their one year anniversary, Bradley got down on one knee in the middle of a crowded airport after they spent three full weeks apart. y/n flung herself into Bradley’s arms, foregoing the ring entirely and pressed her lips against his before she said “yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Maverick was one of the few people at their wedding. It was small and intimate–just how y/n and Rooster liked it. Their relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but they preferred things to be private.

Rooster returned from his trip down memory lane as y/n reached the end of her airline spiel. Her simultaneous light-hearted bubbly tone and professional manner had Bradley sporting a sweet smile.

“Before we take off, there’s an additional announcement I’d like to make.” Rooster perked up. y/n was going off-script. “A little birdie told me that some very special Navy aviators are on board with us today,” y/n’s voice came through the speakers, pride seeping into her tone.

Phoenix and Hangman exchanged amused smirks before staring right at Rooster. In a different scenario, the sudden attention focused on him might’ve made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t care less right now. His wife, whom he hadn’t seen in over a week, was just steps away and he would be able to hold her in his arms again soon.

“Thank you for your service, lady and gents,” y/n finished sincerely. A polite applause filled the aircraft, bringing appreciative smiles to the aviators’ faces. Rooster wasn’t surprised that y/n somehow found out they were on her flight; he knew better than anyone that she was particularly skilled at getting what she wanted, evidently including private passenger information.

With their busy schedules and unpredictable jobs, y/n and Rooster would sometimes go weeks without seeing each other. y/n was gaining seniority in her airline, so she was able to pick and choose her flights sometimes–all of which she strategically planned to be able to visit her husband. When they were on opposite sides of the country, or even the world, it was harder to align their schedules for just a phone call. 

A few nights ago, they had synced-up free time and they didn’t waste a minute. Despite the time zone differences, they talked on the phone for hours. Bradley told y/n about his upcoming week of specialty training at the Naval Air Station in Key West. Since there was no pressing mission or deployment, the Navy was opting to send Rooster and his coworkers on a commercial flight rather than coordinate Navy transport. y/n hummed and checked her schedule while they talked. Lo and behold, she would be piloting a flight from San Diego to Key West later that week. Specifically, Rooster’s flight.

y/n didn’t let on anything about their upcoming flight during the phone call, she wanted it to be a surprise. If there was anything being a commercial passenger pilot taught her, it was how to make sure no one suspected anything was wrong while she spoke into her headset mic. Once, she had to make an announcement to casually address turbulence despite her internal panic while she discreetly manually redistributed fuel between engines when the automatic fuel system failed on a cross-country flight.

The very next morning following Rooster and y/n’s phone call, she pulled a few strings at work and was able to glance at the passenger details for the upcoming direct SAN to EYW flight.

Seat 1D: Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

Seat 1E: Lt. Natasha Trace

Seat 1F: Lt. Jake Seresin

If any policies or procedures were violated in the process of y/n finding the answer to her burning question, no one batted an eye. After all, she was quite possibly the most beloved pilot in her airline. So, that’s how she found out exactly which of Rooster’s coworkers would be accompanying him.

As the plane sped down the runway, quickly gaining enough momentum for take-off, Bradley and y/n both fiddled with their wedding rings. It was a habit they’d developed independently, ironically enough.

y/n’s ascent into the air was smooth as always. Even the most nervous passengers appreciated the light-as-a-feather feeling settling over them as y/n gently reached cruising altitude. Rooster was no stranger to his wife’s expert precision and careful handling of her aircrafts. Phoenix and Hangman were thoroughly impressed by y/n’s skill and ease.

Once the fasten seatbelt lights were turned off, the flight attendants made their way down the center aisle of the plane with snack and beverage carts. Hangman didn’t hesitate to order a double shot of whiskey, earning him an incredulous look from both Rooster and Phoenix. ”What happens on this flight, stays on this flight,” he muttered, ignoring the sting in his throat after downing a third of the glass in one go. Phoenix shrugged and ordered herself another glass of wine. Rooster rolled his eyes at both of their antics. Before he could place his own order, the flight attendant addressed him directly.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw? Captain Bradshaw has requested to see you in the cockpit.” Rooster stood up without hesitation, a wide smile on his face. Hangman’s jaw dropped, a small huff escaping his mouth and Phoenix swatted his chest. Before making the short trek to the cockpit, he bought a bag of gummy worms from the snack cart. 

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. y/n didn’t hear Bradley enter the cockpit over her headset, but she instantly recognized his warm cologne. She whipped around and smiled wide at him, taking her co-pilot by surprise. The co-pilot offered to take over and y/n gladly accepted the offer.

y/n typically didn’t haphazardly hop out of her seat while piloting a massive plane with over 200 passengers, but for Bradley, she’d make an exception. She all but threw herself into his arms, sending them both stumbling back a few steps. Rooster gently pulled y/n’s headset off, careful not to mess up her neatly styled hair, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. y/n’s co-pilot pretended not to notice, but the embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks gave him away. When y/n pulled away to catch her breath, Bradley pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“How’d you know we’d be on your flight?” he asked, brushing some hair away from his wife’s face.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” y/n teased with a wink. Rooster was no stranger to y/n’s scheming, but it typically worked out to his advantage so he could live without knowing the details.

She all but did a happy dance at 34,000 feet in the air when Bradley pulled out the pack of gummy worms he hid in his pocket. y/n had admitted on more than one occasion she often got the munchies on longer flights with only stale peanuts to hold her over. She leaned against her husband’s chest and tore into the package of sugary goodness, offering a few gummy worms to her co-pilot in exchange for him swearing to secrecy.

The plane shuddered from a brief pocket of turbulence–one that y/n would’ve handled better, Rooster thought. Bradley braced himself against the wall and pulled y/n against his body to keep her from falling.

“Do you remember the first time we were in the cockpit of a plane together?” Rooster asked with a reminiscent smile. That first experience was undoubtedly more harrowing then the current one. y/n chuckled at the memory.

“I could never forget it, honey,” y/n smiled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before offering him a gummy worm. The couple stood comfortable in silence for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other. With the amount of time they spent apart, every moment they got together was precious. Even if they were simply holding each other in the cramped cockpit of an airplane.

y/n’s attention was pulled away from Bradley when a warning light lit up on the dashboard, accompanied by a shrill beeping. Her co-pilot turned back to her, silently signaling that she was needed back in the pilot seat. With a heavy sigh, she untangled herself from Bradley’s arms and pressed a final peck to his lips with a promised “I’ll see you later, baby.”

Rooster watched his wife climb in her well-deserved pilot seat and slip her headset back on. She switched back to her professional demeanor with an impressive ease as she worked to remedy the dash’s highlighted issue.

He wordlessly slipped out of the cockpit and back to his seat. Hangman, who was on the brink of tipsy after his strong whiskey, lost all sense of discretion as Rooster sat back down in his seat.

“Bradshaw, you sly dog. Was the Missus excited to see you?” Hangman poked, focusing on the lipstick print adorning Rooster’s cheek. Phoenix passed Rooster a napkin with a grin of her own. Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

With just an hour left in the flight, y/n handed all the controls over to her co-pilot so she could stretch her legs. Lucky for her, her husband was seated just outside of the cockpit. Whoever booked the seats for the aviators knew what they were doing; Bradley Bradshaw was too tall for his own good, something y/n reminded him of frequently. Ironically enough, she never brought up that teasing point when she needed help reaching something around the house or when they went grocery shopping. The point is, being seated at the very front of the cabin gave Bradley sufficient room for his long legs.

y/n slipped out of the cockpit as inconspicuously as possible. She learned from past experience that passengers tended to freak out when they saw pilots, well, not piloting in the cockpit while the plane was airborne. y/n smiled softly as she took in the sight of her husband quietly snoring with his head leaned back against the chair and mouth wide open. She thought about taking a photo, but she was nearly positive Jake Seresin already had based on the devious grin on his face.

Phoenix noticed movement in the front of the cabin, her eyes eventually landing on a woman in a formal pilot uniform. Her face looked familiar. Phoenix was sure she’d seen her somewhere before. With a final squint, she realized the woman a few strides away was the same woman in all of Rooster’s locker polaroids. Mrs. Bradshaw in the flesh.

y/n offered a friendly smile to Phoenix, who seemed to have figured out who she was. Hangman was still focused on the picture he intended to eventually use for blackmail. Phoenix gently shook Rooster’s shoulder, stirring him from his nap. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before his eyes settled on his wife.

“Good morning, Brad,” y/n cooed and reached out to grab his hand. He quickly checked his watch before pulling y/n in and kissing the back of her hand.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted with a glint in his eye. y/n chuckled, she knew he was holding himself back from calling her a smart ass while she was on the job. Hangman watched the interaction in awe. Not only did Bradshaw have a skilled pilot wife, but she was also gorgeous and witty? Jake briefly thought about asking Rooster for dating pointers.

The sleepy fog clouding Rooster’s brain cleared when he had three expectant sets of eyes on him, waiting for him to make introductions. He introduced Natasha and Jake first, citing their names and call signs, even though y/n already knew both from the stories her husband told.

“Phoenix, Hangman, this is Captain y/n Bradshaw, my wife,” Rooster finished with a warm smile. Man, he was whipped.

“Outranked by your wife, huh, Bradshaw?” Hangman jabbed harmlessly. The whiskey wore off a while ago, but Jake was always eager for an opportunity to poke fun at Rooster.

“Mmm, I outrank you as well, Lieutenant,” y/n smiled sweetly, responding without missing a beat. Phoenix chuckled and held out her hand to high-five y/n for her quick comeback. Jake was certain he heard Rooster mutter “that’s my girl,” as he looked up at his wife with a grin.

Rooster’s coworkers made small talk with y/n as she pulled her leg up behind her in a subtle stretch, using her husband’s hand to keep steady before switching sides and repeating the motion. In just the span of the few minutes y/n spent talking to Hangman and Phoenix, all of Bradley’s stories involving them made so much sense. When there was a brief lull in conversation, y/n checked her wristwatch, her eyes widening when she realized she’d been out for longer than expected.

“It was really nice to meet you guys, but I gotta get back in there,” y/n said apologetically. Hangman and Phoenix nodded in understanding, they were more than familiar with the painstaking pillar of time in aviation. Bradley gently squeezed y/n’s hand before she left, still trying to shake his nap-induced daze.

y/n turned on her heel just before reaching the cockpit door to face Bradley again.

“Are you free tonight?” y/n asked hopefully. The week-long training wasn’t scheduled to start until the following day, but she knew it wasn’t unlikely that the Navy would have Rooster busy in his spare time beforehand. His wife’s soft voice and wishful eyes were more than enough to have Bradley’s heart melting. Hell, he’d hand in his resignation as soon as the plane landed if it meant he could spend some time with y/n.

“For you? Always, baby,” Bradley smiled and winked at y/n. The captain grinned and slipped back into the cockpit, looking forward to being back on the ground with her husband.

a/n: did anyone notice the Top Gun (1986) reference 👀? anyways, i hope u liked it! pls lmk what you think, i love reading ur comments & reblogs! :)

also!! i have a bit of a prequel for how rooster & pilot!reader met in the works. i'll finish it up & post it if anyone is interested :)

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Barbie Girl 💄 | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of Top Gun Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Barbie!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content warnings: light profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @kayla-swiftly)

Premise: They say the sky is the limit and anything you set you’re mind to will be achieved as long as you’re dedicated to it. For most people that testimony is nothing but a mere fantasy. But for one woman, with too many dreams to count on her fingers, she took that statement to heart. Proving you can be anyone you want to be and maybe even a few others give or take 😉

Note: Anyone else obsessed with Barbie lately?? Omg y’all I saw the movie last week and absolutely fell in love and i had this request from around the time the final trailer dropped and knew it was the perfect time to write this. I know I know I haven’t been living up to my promise of being consistent but man they having me working my ass off at my job. Also I’ve been traveling and I saw Big Time Rush last night (i felt like a teenager again and it was amazing 😭) anyway I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think!

—————————

“Hi, Barbie!” The familiar greeting fills Y/n’s ears as it does every morning she arrives at the hangar. With it comes an instant smile, hand raising to wave at the person responsible for it, “Hi, Phoenix!”

“Hey there, Barbie,” winks another friendly face.

“Hiiii, Hangman,” her tone is playful like his, turning energetic for Bob when he goes, “Hiya, Barbie!”

“Hi there, Bob!”

“Hey, Barbie.” “Good morning, Barbie.” “What’s up, Barbie Girl.”

“Hello, Rooster.” “Good morning to you too, Fanboy.” “Nothing much, Pay. And yourself?”

Unlike her fellow pilots, clad in their deep green flight suits, Y/n stood out in the crowd for hers was a little unorthodox when one thinks of a naval fighter pilot's uniform.

It was pink. Completely as in her combat boots were also the bright color and the patchers were white and pink tones rather than red, blues, black and any other color seen in the ones attached to her coworkers arms. ‘Barbie’ in pink cursive writing instead of traditional bold Times New Roman lettering.

And don’t forget the little flower dotting the ‘i’.

Growing up, Y/n took ‘you can be anyone and anything you want to be,’ quite literally. At no point was it a joke to her when she would tell her friends and family, “oh I’m gonna be a fashion designer and Olympic Gold medalist when I’m older,” “I wanna go to space, fly in planes, and see all the wonders of the world,” “I’ll be a doctor, a teacher, and movie star!” They’d smile and laugh, thinking it was adorable for a little girl to dream big. No way would it be possible to achieve all of those careers. Everyone only gets one life to live and time goes so fast one can only set their eyes on one path and hope for the best.

But Y/n was a dreamer. And if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.

All through middle and high school people took Y/n’s intelligence for granted. Focusing more on her beauty rather than brains, it came as an under shock to everyone when Y/n had the credits to graduate at the ripe age of 15. Exceeding in her standardized test scores with a high school resume taking up three pages with extracurricular and academic achievements, she had colleges from all over the country begging for her to apply.

Stanford. Cornell. Pratt. Juilliard. NYU. John Hopkins. Harvard. UCLA. Duke. Top medical and law schools. Ivy League universities. Performing Arts schools calling for auditions after sending scouts to watch her perform in school plays and dance recitals. Coaches from high ranking NCAA gymnastics teams sending emails after emails.

So many to choose from….And so the story of Y/n L/n becoming a real life Barbie Doll begins.

Setting her eyes in New York, Y/n attended not one but two of the best schools in the country. While obtaining her bachelor’s in both astronautical and aeronautical engineering at NYU Y/n also completed a two year degree in Fashion Business Management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. During this time she continued training for the Olympics in hopes of making the 2008 Beijing team in gymnastics.

“How do you do it?” Her roommate at NYU constantly asked. “You go from here to FIT, working on two degrees that are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum and career paths,” she emphasized with hand expressions, “and still have enough to time to go to the gym to practice, eat three meals a day, have all your assignments done early, and sleep a reasonably about of hours each night.” Letting out an exhale, her roommate looks at Y/n as if she’s an alien from another world, “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of Barbie doll the government created as a test robot?”

Each time Y/n would pause, think for a moment before smiling, “I don’t know if I should find that as an insult or compliment, but I’m gonna chose it as a compliment and say it’s because I want to live a life where I can look back on and go, ‘I took a risk and tried something new even if it didn’t look possible but it was all worth it.’”

By the time Y/n turned 20 she had accumulated a vast list of credentials to her name. The list included getting her fashion business degree at 17, Bachelors in astronautical/aeronautical engineering at 19–receiving her Master’s for it at 20–An Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, dancing with the Radio City Rockettes, performing with the NYC Ballet Company in their rendition of Swan Lake, landing a role on Broadway, walking a runway at NY fashion week, and appearing on episodes of SVU, 30 Rock, All My Children, Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty.

So yeah, New York was a success in experiences for Y/n.

Following the high note, she packed her bags to leave the golden apple for the flashing lights of Hollywood, California. This time Y/n was working on her doctorates at USC, running her own business with her fashion degree called ‘Dream Closet’, and auditioning for film and tv shows.

Hollywood was a dream come true just like New York. Again she attended two different schools, this time flight school and USC. During the day she was occupied running from class to the hangar and then the observatory. Coaching dance and gymnastics on the side, designing clothes for her online shop which developed into a pop-up chain store in malls across America.

It wasn’t long until Y/n’s name grew into nationwide popularity. People started realizing the Y/n L/n who won the Gold and Silver medals in the 2008 Olympics was the same one responsible for the most recent fashion trends and guest starring on their favorite tv shows. What really set it in stone was when Y/n landed the role of an engineer officer in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek, going on to appear in both the 2013 and 2016 sequels.

Impressive was the only word her costars could use to describe her. What else was there?

Anytime there was a question involving, “who’s most likely to become president?” “Who’s most likely to try something new or create a new hobby?” “Who’s most likely to win a Nobel Prize?” Along those lines…the answer was obvious.

“Oh Y/n,” Zoe Saldana waves her hand, “Always.”

“Yeah,” Chris Pine agrees with a laugh, “That woman, I-I don’t know how one has the energy to do all that she does—a-and still want to do more.”

The Interviewer laughs with them, “didn’t she just race in the Daytona 500 last year?”

“Yes!! And she did a song with Lady Gaga when they were on American Horror Story,” Zoe’s tone is in absolute awe, “All while teaching at USC and creating new technology at NASA.” Chris lifts a finger.

“Don’t forget she had her own Mac Viva Glam line a couple years ago.” Zoe made a sound along the lines of ‘see what I mean,’.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna be a name in the history books.”

What all has Y/n accomplished career wise? Let’s take a look.

Model, dancer, actor, singer, fashion designer, entrepreneur, athlete, engineer, race car driver, and professor.

And now she can add pilot to the list. Although she got her license to fly way back in 2009, Y/n didn’t put it to use full time until 2016, wanting to wait until after the release of Star Trek: Beyond to say goodbye to Hollywood for the time being and set forth on her next adventure.

Boy did it come as a surprise what she had planned.

The Manila folder containing her resume hit the desk of the Admiral, his eyes wide as saucers. “You wanna join the Navy?” Reading the front page for a fifth time, Cyclone glanced back at the woman in front of him. Doctor Y/n L/n. Or is it professor L/n? “And you wanna be one of my pilots?”

“Yes, Sir.”

”Ma’am, I apologize if this comes off as offending,” he really didn’t know any other way to put it. “But you are more qualified than any person on this base. Doctorates in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the University of Southern California,” he counts off on his fingers, “you recently developed a groundbreaking advancement in space technology that’s going to help our astronauts—on the road to becoming a Nobel Prize nominee.” He raises his eyebrows, “And this is only what relates to this career field. I’m not even mentioning your acting, athletic, and fashion credentials. Why join the Navy?”

Y/n only offers a shrug, “I think the better question is, why not?” Cyclone lets out a sigh.

“What did you say your callsign was again?”

“Barbie.”

There was no stopping the small smile trying to break free, “I should’ve guessed.”

After completing OTS there was much debate on what Y/n’s rank would be coming into the Navy. Civilian lawyers and physicians often are Lieutenants (O-3) right away, but considering Y/n had two doctorate degrees and her pilot license they felt it was only fair for her to come in as Commander (O-5). From there Y/n was sent to North Island to attend Fighter Weapons School.

Better known to its flyers as Top Gun.

Y/n was used to the looks she received on a daily basis. From head to toe she was covered in variations of pink depending on what she was feeling. When teaching her briefcase and pantsuit were baby pink, in the labs her coat was hot pink, at auditions she wore pink leather jackets. Even her race car for the Daytona was pink.

Shoutout to Mac cosmetics for the sponsorship.

So it’s no surprise her flight suit would be the color she was known for—despite it being out of regulations.

Being more qualified than your superiors had its perks.

If she could have a pink F-18 she would but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. That was okay for Y/n. After all, she managed to get her own custom flight suit. One which had everyone having to do double takes whenever she walked into a room.

“Is she wearing…?”

“How the hell did they allow that?”

“Does that mean I can have mine in purple?”

Her first day at Top Gun Y/n met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. They were paired as roommates in the dorms and quickly became good friends. Phoenix was beyond amazed with Y/n’s accomplishments and experiences. Every conversation led to a new discovery. “Do you ever burn out?” Nat stag criss crossed on Y/n’s satin pink bed sheets, admiring her wall of photos from when she traveled to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world. “I feel I’d be a walking corpse from exhaustion. And you mentioned you’re still running and designing clothes for ‘Dream Closet’?”

Y/n removed her diamond studs, placing them on her desk she was using as a vanity. “I have a team dealing with the business side of things for the brand. I’m still CEO and creative director—usually I work on designs for a couple hours before bed to prepare for the next launch.”

Nat was in awe, “I have to ask….what’s been the best career you’ve done so far?” A common question Y/n heard, there was never a true answer. She loved every career. They all had their perks and their flaws, but at the end of the day it left her satisfied she achieved them.

“I don’t know yet,” she spoke truthfully, “I still have a few to check off on my list. When that happens I’ll let you know.”

Fast forwarding to 2019, Y/n answered the phone to Admiral Simpson’s voice with the news she needed to report back to North Island for a highly confidential mission. The details were unknown, but Y/n packed her bags, loaded her pink vintage corvette convertible and high tailed it to sunny San Diego.

The squeals initiated by Y/n and Nat the moment she stepped foot in the Hard Deck had heads whipping in their direction. “Hi, Barbie!” Nat’s arms opened for a hug.

“Hi, Phoenix!” Y/n accepted the embrace, still grinning ear to ear. The guys around them were looking at each other like, ‘what the…?’ Y/n wasn’t in her standard Khakis like they were—minus Rooster. She bore a pink denim number with matching boots with her hair curled and pink eyeliner surrounded by tiny rhinestones.

“You got selected too?” Nat complimented her outfit before cutting straight to the point.

“For the special detachment? Looks like it,” she winked.

“What happened to the Artemis program? Weren’t you up as a candidate?”

“Oh I still am,” Y/n affirmed proudly, “They’ll be announcing who’s to be selected in the coming months. So for now I’m still with the Bounty Hunters. Plus,” she leans in to whisper, “this will look good on my resume.” The two giggle before Y/n drifts her gaze to the boggling gazes in front of her. “Oh! I’m sorry for being so rude. I’m Y/n L/n,” extending her hand to the first person who’s name tag read Fitch, Y/n added, “But you can call me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” the blonde holding a pool cue repeated like a question, “like the toy Barbie?” Nat chuckled, throwing an arm around her friend after she was done shaking everyone’s hand as they introduced themselves.

“Fellas, if there is anyone who is a life sized version of Barbie, it’s this one right here.”

“Now, Phee…” Y/n’s tone was that of, ‘Don’t start.’

“It’s true,” the pilot defended. “Not only is she Commander Y/n ‘Barbie’ L/n,” jaws drop, “but she’s Professor and Doctor L/n.” The jaws hit the floor, “On top of founder, creative director and CEO of ‘Dream’s Closet,’” Javy makes a sound, familiar with the brand, “Emmy nominated actress,” Fanboy chokes on his water, “Olympic Gold Medalist and soon to be astronaut for the Artemis program.” By now all the guys are on the verge of losing their minds.

Bob rapidly blinks, “uh—.”

“Now I’m not an astronaut yet,” Y/n points out, “I’m a candidate for one.” Nat scoffs lightly.

“They’d be stupid not to pick you, Barb,” she then slaps her side, turning back to the guys, “Oh and how could I forget Broadway, Vogue, and the Daytona 500.”

“Daytona 500!?” Payback practically screeches.

“You were on Broadway?”

“—featured on Vogue—?!”

“Wait a minute I recognize you from Star Trek!”

“—How in the hell—.”

“Guys, guys!” Y/n laughs with her hands slightly raised, “Please, one at a time.” They were in for a long night of questions and story times. And just like Nat was years prior when she first roomed with Y/n at Top Gun, the officers were in complete amazement over the woman in front of them. Never had they met anyone like her.

“Wow,” Jake whistled once she finished bringing them up to date on her most recent careers. “You really are a real-life Barbie.”

“Shhhh,” a finger went to her lips, followed by a wink, “don’t tell Mattel.”

And thus the dagger squad was formed. Two and half weeks of hell bearing training preceding a face-with-death mission brings people closer. Every morning Y/n arrived at the hangar to a chorus of “Hi, Barbie.”

She waved at Reuben, “Hi Payback.”

“Hey there, Barbie Girl,” Javy threw her a peace sign.

“Hiya, Coyote!”

“Good morning, Barbie,” Rooster tipped his hat.

“Mornin’, Rooster.”

“Hi, Barbie!” “Hi, Barbie!” Her favorite duo harmonized.

“Hi, Bob! Hi, Phee!”

And for some closer than others….

“You know I was thinking,” Jake commented, taking Y/n’s hand before leading her to the pottery class he signed them up for. Every Friday night was reserved for date night. Dinner and a movie. Walk on the beach. Spending $20 worth of quarters at an arcade. Attending a comedy show. Paint and sip. Following the successful mission, Jake and Y/n hit it off and began seeing each other.

“Famous last words.”

“It’s not bad,” a chuckle left his lips, stopping at the door. “I just thought it was funny. You know how you’re basically Barbie?” His cheeky smile resulted in her mirroring it.

“Yessss.”

“This means I’m pretty much your Ken, right?” The question makes the woman visible ‘awe’. Jake ruffles a hand through his hair and gives his best blue steel, “we kinda look alike. Don’t you think?”

Laughing, Y/n kisses his cheek, “I mean…name a more iconic duo than Barbie and Ken.”

“Barbie and Hangman?”

“Exactly.” It was safe to assume what their Halloween costumes were going to be.

Time went on, missions were run. And after a year of anticipation—though it felt like forever, it was finally announced in 2020 Y/n would be one of the astronauts selected to be part of NASA’s Artemis program launching in 2024.

Making Y/n the first woman to go to the moon.

The call came in from a restricted number when they were in a meeting, and knowing she was to expect a call within the month everyone quickly shut up so the pilot could answer.

She excused herself to leave the room, staying in front of the window so the team could see her. Throughout the conversation Y/n’s expression remained neutral to the point none had a clue whether the news was good or bad. Only when she reentered the room did they get the answer.

“I’m going to the moon!!!”

“Ahhh!!!!” The team exploded in an array of cheers, Y/n jumping up and down, careful not to drop her phone that was in her hands when Jake lifted her in his arms.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Despite being unauthorized to show pda in uniform, Jake gave her a big kiss on the lips, not caring who saw. “You are the most exceptional human being on this planet.”

“Jake,” tears welled in her eyes, which he kissed away. Her heart filled with warmth and gratitude. Feeling on top of the world with her closest friends supporting her.

Once all calmed down and they finished the meeting, Mickey jumped from his seat, “Come on Barbie, let’s go party!” Everyone sped to the Hard Deck to celebrate the news. Mav bought the first round, followed by Payback.

“Guys you don’t have to do all that,” Y/n said once she realized they all agreed to buy her drinks for the night.

“We want to,” Nat tapped her beer with Y/n’s cocktail glass, the guys voicing agreements. “For years you’ve been dreaming about this and it’s finally happening. Your hard work is paying off and we want to celebrate—show you we love and appreciate you, Barbie.”

Y/n fought back tears, never afraid to show her emotions. Some may find it childish or thinned skin, but to Y/n that was what being human was all about. “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” The voices echoed together.

The night had been going well with the squad hanging out by the pool tables like they usually did when Y/n approached the bar to pick up the next round Mickey was paying for. Not paying attention to those beside her, she smiled at Penny and repeated the order before waiting patiently.

But what’s a night at a bar without someone who lacks boundaries.

“You must be the one they call Barbie,” a voice says, flirtation seeping through the words. Glancing to her right, Y/n recognizes a gentleman from the flight line whose name she could not recall. “You’re quite the talk around base. In fact, weren’t you in some Hollywood blockbuster?”

“Yes,” she politely responds, keeping the answer short. Though she was known to be a sweetheart and kindhearted to anyone she met, Y/n could tell where the interaction was heading toward and did not feel comfortable entertaining it any further. “A long time ago.”

“I’m Lieutenant Paul Billings,” he extended his hand, and she immediately clocked he was trying to show off his rank. ‘Boy he’s in for a treat.’

Not wanting to make a scene, she accepts the handshake. “Commander Y/n L/n,” there was emphasis on the Commander, displaying the woman was of higher rank and therefore a silent warning to Billings to not cross a line.

There was a flash of surprise on his face. Y/n held back an amused laugh, ‘guess you didn’t hear everything.’

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he brushes it off, “Nothing. Say,” he nods to the bar, “can I buy you a drink.” Did he not just hear her order a round for the people she came with?

“That’s kind of you,” she starts just as Penny arrives with a try full of cold beers and her usual cocktail. “But I’m all set, thank you.” Hands moving to take the tray, she jumps slightly at the feeling of his own coming to her wrist.

“What about lunch this week?”

“I’m sorry but I am spoken for, Lieutenant,” removing his hold, Y/n takes a step away.

Now Paul had lost his reasonable composure. Scoffing, he says, “What? Am I not enough for you?” The question results in her raising a brow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He makes a face, “You think because you’ve done all these careers and occupations that you’re better than the average person? I’m not a pilot and an actor or researching the cure for cancer while creating a documentary series,” venom seeps through his tone, obviously depicting his jealousy, “Basic is not up to your standards, so you have to throw our failures in our face as if we don’t already know.”

By now a crowd has formed. Jake started moving the second he noticed Billings etching too close to his girl, followed by Nat and the others who were ready to back him up. Behind the bar, Penny was fixing to ring the bell until being stopped by Y/n’s wave of the hand.

“Are you done?”

Paul’s expression was that of, “what?” No audible response was voiced therefore Y/n continued.

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this, Paul,” Y/n drops her shoulder. The change in body language let Jake and her friends know she wasn’t taking anything that the man said personally. “I know I should be offended by your insults and insinuations, but the truth is I’m not.” A small smile forms on her lips, “I don’t view myself higher than anyone because of what I accomplished. The only person I do that to, is myself—because I don’t have to prove to no one but me that I am capable of achieving what I set my mind to. And yeah,” a light chuckle escapes, “I’ve set my mind to a lot of things—way more than the average person. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else can’t do the same.”

Pausing Y/n takes a breath before exhaling, “You look at me, and hate the way it makes you view yourself. Makes you believe you’re a failure because you didn’t follow the path you hoped to make for yourself.” Paul’s expression shifts to one of solemnity, like he was thinking of his younger self who had dreams and aspirations. Mourning what could have been.

It made Y/n sad for him. Empathetic despite him attacking her. “One thing I’ve learned over the years…is time is what you make of it. Life is about taking risks. You can still set out to do whatever it is you wish, as long as you’re committing to taking the risk no matter how scary it is. Sure you’ll find obstacles and it’ll feel like the whole world is against you. But determination will guide you through the walls, and you will be successful so that you can look back and think, ‘it was worth it.’ As cliche as it sounds,” she couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Barbie isn’t a person or an object you can obtain. Barbie is a mindset. And you have to unlock it in your own way, Paul.”

It was so quiet in the building, a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Their looks of awe, admiration, and even newfound motivation by Y/n’s speech. Impressed by how classy she handled what very well could have been a scream match between rival squadrons.

Behind Billings the Dagger squad stood with proud smirks at their friend. Especially Jake, who caught Y/n’s eyes and threw her a wink. Nat gave the woman a salute, a silent gesture to say, ‘you inspire me everyday.’

And Billings? Well he was at a loss for words.

Patting his shoulder, Y/n grabbed the tray of drinks, “I wish you luck, Paul.” Thanking Penny, who gave her a proud nod and replied, “this ones on the house,” Y/n returned to her friends where she was met with a sweet kiss from Jake, claps on the back and “You go girl!” “Tell them who’s boss.” “Damn, you made me wanna go out there and live life the way I should.”

“What’s stopping you, Javy?” she handed him a beer, “the world is your playground.”

A couple hours later it was time to call it a night. Hugs went around, promises to meet up the following night and tabs were closed.

On their way out, Jake dropped a kiss to Y/n forehead, pulling her close to him as he led her to the door of the parking lot, “So what’s next for you, doll? You’ve proved you can be anything and anyone you chose to be,” he grins at her, “What will you set your mind to now after space?”

“First, I want to write a book—I think that’s something a lot have been waiting for me to do. Afterwards, well, I’ll have to wait a couple more years, but,” The corner of Y/n’s lips lift up before flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m thinking….the Oval Office is in need of a makeover. Don’t you think?”

Then, before he could answer, Y/n turns her head in the opposite direction as if she’s trying to find a hidden camera. Makes eye contact with you, the reader, winking before turning back to Jake where she sets off on her next adventure.

…………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

[grimesgirll]

you want to know what his deal is.

why the only facial expression he can manage is a scowl, why he seems so pent up.

rick grimes is a mystery to you.

some spooky backstory is written all over his face but there’s never been a clue of it otherwise - and you can only tell because you spend so much time watching him.

you never imagined yourself becoming obsessed with a man twice your age but here you are. you want to know what his face looks like when he cums. the older man is rotting your brain from the inside out.

it’s not until he stumbles upon you boxing alone in the empty gym that you realize it was on his mind too.

he doesn’t say anything upon entering and his footsteps are light but his reflection in the mirror gives him away. he’s watching from the stairwell as you go through your close combat training. it’s a rigorous routine recommended to you by one of your superiors that you feel deep in your core.

you pack power into every punch; trying to land blows strategically and not just wherever your own pent up sexual frustration sends them.

rick can’t help it when the once familiar straining in his pants starts up. he wordlessly runs a hand through his dark hair. despite the uneasy tension between the two of you, rick wants to get to know you better. not too well but well enough to know how you look after you get all of that energy out of your system.

he's lost in a daydream in the sleek underground training facility. the sound of footsteps exiting to the right breaks him out of his thoughts - thoughts of bending you over the weight lifting bench.

you traipse into the women’s locker room off the forest green paneled hallway.

he shouldn’t be thinking about following you.

you’re way too young for him.

before former private grimes can fully talk himself out of it, the image of you during one of your trainings materializes in his mind. he was supervising the new cadets - you, formerly - and you were stretching with the rest of your counterparts. you’d been in a standing straddle when you two locked eyes with each other.

the delicate balance of maintaining eye contact while not outright staring at your ass only took a few seconds to blur. rick was quickly turning his head and keeping his eyes averted.

ever since then, you’d caught hurried glimpses of each other. sometimes it felt like the older man’s eyes lingered on you though, like he was boring into you on another level.

you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t on your mind.

being freshly twenty a decade into the apocalypse didn’t make for the best dating scene. yeah, dating someone who could easily be your father was wild, but you didn’t have many other viable options. rick pushed all the right buttons for you no one else could.

as the water cascades down your back under the showerhead, your hand drifts below your abdomen to cup your sensitive bundle of nerves. you push past the semi-thick layer of hair covering your folds until your pointer finger is dipping inside of you.

despite it being your own fingers penetrating you, you still moan out loud, thankful that the showers are so empty and remote enough that you can enjoy having them all to yourself. you exhale and speed up your ministration. you add a finger for the added challenge. a third is sliding towards your entrance when you hear the shuffle of feet.

you cock your head. there's no reason for anyone else to be in here. there weren't many other female officers and all of the ones you knew trained here on much different schedules.

it's probably just the loud banging fan you and one of the female helicopter pilots had bitched together about. you ignore it and go back to your shower, sticking your head back enough that the shower is massaging your scalp, meanwhile your fingers massage your clit and your spongy insides.

god, you wish rick was here. his fingers were pretty large. coming in his embrace had to feel so fulfilling.

your taboo thoughts are interrupted by a loud banging. removing your fingers is an inconvenient affair, as you can't ignore that so you slowly creep towards the shower entrance, slipping past the curtain to see the subject of your shower fantasies standing before you.

the sage green towel you'd brought with is laying soaked on teh tiled floor while rick turns and smiles sheepishly at you. "this isn't what it looks like."

"i'm sure it's not."

rick averts his eyes and rotates to face the lockers. "i'm sorry. i can get you another towel."

you suddenly remember that you're on your feet naked. a rose blush colors your face. your cheeks grow even redder when you notice the massive bulge in his pants.

"is this turning you on?"

"what?"

"is seeing me naked turning you on?" you elaborate. please turn around, you hope.

"i'm not looking at you," he chides your name. "that's why i asked if you wanted a towel."

"if you didn't want to fuck me you would've left already."

regardless of facing the other way, rick's entire body tenses. a select few of his muscles twinge.

"you walked in on me-,"

"-that was an accident."

"yeah, yeah, rick," you chuckle.

the older man is raising an eyebrow when he turns around to face you. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to see you like-like this but don't forget that i'm your commanding officer."

“i’ll forgive you if you fuck me.”

a gasp exits your mouth when you observe him grasp his crotch at your words.

"your place or mine?"

it's not long before you've found semi-appropriate apparel to ditch the gym in as you follow rick back to his townhouse on base.

the soldier is pushing you through the door. it doesn't seem like he cares when you stumble across the threshold. he just slaps your ass, gesturing to the stairs.

your feet carry you robotically up the tiny staircase until you're walking into a bedroom. you don't spend long on your feet though because rick is shoving you onto the bed roughly. you want to be taken aback at the treatment; however you can't say that you're surprised that rick is such a rough lover.

“you want me to take it off?”

rick is referring to the black hand edging nearer to your spandex clothed pussy.

you shake your head. “i don’t mind,” you assure him, shutting your hips closer to a black, prosthetic finger.

"easy enough," he remarks and leans down to capture your velvety lips in a bruising battle of tongues that you lose immediately.

he goes to pull down your shorts but you stop him. you sit up on your knees and lay your hands over the strict outline in his pants.

"fuck," he rasps.

"want me to suck you off?"

"only if you get on your knees now."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. you undo his pants in olympic record time, lapping at the head of his already engorged cock. you don't tease him; his shaft is hitting the back of your throat before you know it and he has to breathe deeply to prevent himself from thrusting the rest of him down your throat.

rick had seen the way your eyes had widened at the sight of his erection back in the showers. you probably didn't anticipate this kind of behavior from a man his age. he wants to be gentle for you but that would just make it personal.

you're a junior officer who he should not be fraternizing like this with but he can't resist the hot, suction your tight little mouth is providing. not when you take him so well.

"good job, sweetheart," he praises. "a little lower," he plants his hands in your hair and manually forces your lips farther down his girthy length. "that's it, honey."

it isn't long before his dick is covered in spit and with every thrust, you're fighting off a gag. you do your best to swallow around his cock, reveling in the moans erupting from him as his hands dug further into your soft, gossamer hair.

“take a break, sweetheart,” rick pulls you off of his cock.

“you about ready?” he inquires, lazily pumping a prosthetic finger into you and his other hand around his cock.

you nod eagerly. he doesn't say anything - just works another unforgiving, bionic finger into you. "rick!" you whimper.

the southerner sends you an icy blue glare. "what was that?"

you gulp. "i'm sorry, sir."

rick smirks at you. "are you?"

"mhmm."

"how will you make it up to me?"

your hips writhe against his soft mattress beneath you. "sir, i want to make it up to you with my tight pussy, sir!"

his smirk grows. "ready whenever you are."

"i'm ready now, sir. i'm ready for your big cock."

you thought you'd be following along but you completely lose the plot when rick replaces his cyborg fingers with his fleshy cock and you're screaming.

"shh, hush!" rick slaps a hand over your mouth.

you scream muffled around his hand as he inserts each punishing inch into you. the stretch is intense and searing and you think you're going to pass out but after ninety seconds of feeling like rick would tear you part - you convulse around him.

"damn, already?"

you want to be embarrassed but you're hard pressed to care as your senior officer continues his brutal assault on your inexperienced pussy.

is he in my cervix? you ponder.

you crane your head backwards to spectate as the older soldier tunnels in and out of you. he has to be rearranging your kidneys and he has to be loving it from how dilated his pupils are. your tall, dark, and handsome superior is lost in your unrelenting cunt, head tipping back when he paints your plush insides white for the first time.

returning to earth momentarily, he discovers your eyes so intently laser focused on his. he scowls.

you grimace when he briefly slides out of you, but any complaints are momentarily paused when you get a mouth full of pillow.

this feels wrong. like he shouldn’t be fucking the young woman whose twentieth birthday his small battalion celebrated just the other week. it’s arduous to convince himself that this all wrong though - how can he when you’re clenching around him and mewling his name?

“rick!”

“you plannin’ on wakin’ up the rest of base?”

you shake your head, struggling to contain your moans - how can you when the older man is fucking the daylights out of you?

“be a good girl and shut up.” rick commands, reaching around to prod a finger at your lips and into your mouth. without asking, you go ahead and suck on his firm digits. the groans you elicit have you murmuring around his finger. “much better,” he commends you, rewarding you with a playful slap on your ass.

the sting reverberates through your pussy. the corresponding cry that comes from you only causes the man mercilessly filling you up to snort, landing another spank. he chuckles when you pulse around him.

“again already?”

has anyone ever told you you’re too big? you want to ask, but without the energy you just nod and hum.

the soldier’s speed only becomes more frantic. you can tell he’s finally close again from the way he’s digging his fingernails into your hips and burying himself deep inside of your already coated cunt.

yeah, he has to be my touching my cervix. you decide. probably ripped it open.

you feel ripped open by rick. it doesn't matter though, he doesn't slow even as your sopping cunt is leaking with your slick and his first load. his second release reaches even deeper inside of you, being plugged by rick's thick length as he collapses on top of you.

rick rolls over slightly, graying chestnut curls falling in his face as he gathers you closer to him. still inside of you, he's hard like bedrock. a hand reaches up to squeeze at your chest.

you whine when his mouth washes over your rosy bud and he grazes his teeth as well. "rick, too much." you pout at him, lips swollen.

“you think I’m done?”

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

[tocomplainfriend]

Episode 4

TW: Rape, Sexual Assault and Abuse, Physical abuse.

So uh, I really did just guess "there is no way it's that bad, right?"...

OK, SO LET'S TALK. So again if you haven't seen the episode big Trigger Warning for its content! It's real heavy, explicit and on your face. I'm a Sexual abuse victim talking about this, just so you know.

I think the bigger problem I have with the episode, it's the context surrounding it and what happens later on, specially. Many people can have different views on the poison scene itself, for their own. But that scene, even if you as a victim relate, can only really work in a vacuum. Why? Let's see... hum.... The jokes of male SA in Helluva Boss? How it's written as funny to Moxxie to get assaulted? By the Succubus, Blitz, Chaz? Not seeing any problem in Stolitz, and victim blaming Blitz.

Suddenly Viv wants to be like: "Male sexual assault and abuse it's so not talked about, I'm going to write about it". As if she didn't write all those HB jokes. All those jokes are only men getting assaulted too, by other men or woman. The SA and r-pe it's funny when it's done to men, why did this even happen?

Even if the entire episode 4 was good, why did the same person write all this jokes? Is the sexual harassment Angel does to husk, even going to be addressed later or...? The biggest problem, it's the bad execution. Something happens a lot with HB and HH, it's that scenes and concepts work In isolation, that way you imagine in infinite possibilities of the "what if this". But they give you is in it'self not that good. The series does expect you to be a fan, and have to watch the pilot. Because it doesn't really bother to introduce the characters or anything. So the emotional bits don't hit that hard if you didn't already care about the characters since or before the pilot.

Since the first episodes, Valentino has being changing between fucking idiot and horrifying monster. In episode 2 he is treated as a stupid dumbass. I feel like all the episodes until 4 were too much, on the comedy shit- to immediately jump into explicit abuse and SA is a lot. In the end of the episode they also shift back the tone, weirdly.

So we jump into Val and Angel's work, showing how shitty val is. Charlie jumps into interrupting the hole thing. AND VAL ASSAULTS HER TOO??? I didn't expect that. He grabs her kisses and lick up her arm, and gets too close to her in other scenes. Then Charlie accidentally ruins the set, and Val ends up physically abusing Angel. Living him with a black eye, and it's shown Angel did a deal with him. Leaving him fully trapped with him (not a legal contract, but a devil/sinner bound magic thing). Then it's poison music number.

Many people feel like it's too graphic. Other people will say it's okey, because it shows the problem straight on, and it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

Explicit doesn't = good.

You can talk a lot of what does this level of graphic/explicit add to the conversation.

My main problem with it being so explicit comes from who is directing that hole part of the episode. I talked about it in the post above. The person in question:

(BLURRED CUT PICTURE)

Does this scene above seem familiar to you? This person put together with how the poison part of the episode is played out AND all the disgusting "SA is funny" jokes HB make this a fucking problem.

AND THEN THE FUCKING ENDING IS CRAZY BAD LIKE HELLO???? At the end, Angel is at a bar, and his drink gets spiked. Husk gets him out and fights against the guys that spiked the drink. Then they kindly have an argument... To get through the whole heavy ass episode- to then Husk hit with a song calling Angel a baby IS FUCKING CRAZY. I see what the point was supposed to be, but the execution absolutely kills it. The song tries to compare Husk and Angel, to say shit sucks but hey it's okay we are in this together, BUT HOLY SHIT. Why, comparing Angel Dust being sexually abused under a demonic contract (HE IS STILL UNDER)- to Husk having to work for Alastor. Yes, Husk fucked up his life in hell do to gambling- that's not comparable to Angel being in an abusive relationship where he gets taken advantaged of. Calling Angel dust a baby loser, "everyone got it difficult get over your self"- it's fucking crazy. The fact that the episode ends on everyone happy and laugh it off it awful! WHAT HAPPEN???????? Like Angel is still under Val's contract- his going to have to go back to work, or to any other place where his drink could be spiked. We are still in the same problem. I don't- I don't understand. The song wasn't even a "I'll help you", it felt more like "Hey shit sucks, get over it". How did you write that? I don't think the series has the time or good enough space to treat the subjects- and they are dealing in the worst way.

EDIT:

I cannot believe this woman made a cum joke, about the song that it's about being trapped with your abuser- that comes with really graphic scenes of assault and r-pe. Like the whole song it's about that???? It's not a "Hot sexy" song, it's literally all sexual assault and workplace abuse.

This scene is from a non canon comic from the same artist above, got immediately referenced in the scene after poison. That's crazy. Also, The artist is... uh......... Did you know that in episode 4. It got showed that Angel's real name is Anthony? They changed their name to Tony, make themselves look like Angel? Now does sex work like Angel. They choreographed the pole dancing in Addict?

AND Viv just reduced Angel's Sexual Harassment of Husk as:

Angel trows himself to Husk, grabs him, touches him, makes unwanted sexual comments. You, have never left the weird shipping of queer of mean that revolts around sexual harassment. It's like old ass garbage Wattpad yaoi, not acknowledging those problems. Why is there more attention to that than Charlie and Vaggie, who lacks so much personality and everything. WLW with no condiments and artificial as fuck MLM with microplastics.

[blind0demon]

Center of Attention

Summary: You're one of many RDA pilots working on Pandora but you still managed to catch the eye of the recoms' leader, Miles Quaritch.

Pairing: Na'vi! Miles Quaritch x Gender Neutral! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1,4K

Author's Note: He's hot, he deserves it. 

The quiet room was filled with the sound of Quaritch's footsteps as he walked out of the bathroom, ready to go to sleep. His hair was still a little wet from the shower he took, but he didn't mind it at all. He made sure that all the lights were turned off and laid on the bed with his head resting against his arm. The man stared at the blank ceiling with a smile on his face as he recalled today's meeting with his favorite person, you.

Despite the dangerous mission he was on and all the action he had to endure, a simple talk still felt a lot more interesting to remember than anything else. You were the pilot who used to fly him alongside his recom team to different places on Pandora, wherever needed. You were good at your job but what was even better was your personality and humor. Miles found every opportunity to chat with you while you were flying.

Thanks to you, the thought about the possibility of getting killed on a mission wasn't corrupting his mind. He was just happy to be with you. The recom didn't notice his attraction towards you before Lyle began teasing him about it. It was true that for some reason your hair became shinier, your skin softer and smile more beautiful than ever, but Quaritch didn't think of that too much.

Now, he was and he couldn't stop getting you out of his head. You lived there rent free. After obtaining his own ikran alongside his team, the Na'vi didn't need you to transport him anywhere, which made him feel more independent but also disappointed that he won't be able to see you as often as before. In fact, he didn't see you in a few days now and could feel the frustration growing inside of him more and more.

He didn't realize how much he needed you before. However, this day was his lucky day. He arrived outside of the RDA base waiting for his crew to meet up and noticed you on your own repairing a small malfunction in your Aerospatiale. There were almost no people around this early in the morning so he decided to have a chat with you and catch up. You had a nice time talking about everything and nothing while he watched you fix the engine.

You looked absolutely breathtaking to him. Your skin was glistening in the sun and face slightly red from the activity. The way your muscles tightened as you worked awoke something primal in him as he looked at you in interest. The straw that broke the camel's neck arrived when you bent down in front of him to pick up the screwdriver that you accidentally dropped.

Quaritch's mind immediately painted the view of him fucking you against the door of the gunship, knowing well that you could get caught at any moment. Despite being a strong and confident person, you were still so small and fragile compared to him and it only made him more turned on to think about making you his. Miles broke out of his thoughts when he caught himself breathing rapidly and feeling a familiar hardness under his pants.

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such fantasies instead of putting himself together and just asking you out. However, the recom wasn't sure if you felt the same way about him, which could potentially destroy everything that you had between each other. You were also different species, therefore it added another to the problems on the list although he didn't mind the fact that you were human. In fact, you would fit just perfectly around him so he could blow your mind.

Quaritch sighed tiredly, knowing that he won't be able to fall asleep in this condition, unless he takes care of it or waits it out. So he does, taking his semi hard member in his palm and slowly sliding up and down its length. The man closed his eyes and thought of the person that made him this turned, you. Miles bit his lower lip, holding back a growl, picturing you in front of him.

Your beautiful eyes looking at him with such kindness and your gorgeous smile that always made his heart skip. You were the only one occupying his mind all the time, even the thought of catching Jake Sully didn't corrupt him as often as you did. It was as if you put him under a spell and it worked. Pleasure started to spread to every part of his body, making his ears lean back at the sensation, whispering your name as if hoping that you could be here with him.

Oh, how he'd make you feel as good as him. If only you were his, you would be sitting on his manhood and ride him till oblivion at this moment. There'd be no fear of you not fitting him, Miles would give you the foreplay of your life till you'd be begging for him to enter you. He imagined holding you by the hips and pushing you down his length, hearing you moan at the feeling of his member filling you up to the hilt.

The sensation Quaritch felt during his trance made it so realistic as well. You moved up and down with no effort as his hands held you tightly and guided you at his preferred pace. Your eyes would be clouded in lust and your face engulfed in the desire you experienced because of him. Moans escaped your lips during which your nails dug into his abs, marking him as yours.

The Na'vi pumped his hand faster, imagining your tight wet muscles squeezing him to the point where he'd go feral. It became really hard to hold back the groans trying to leave Quaritch's mouth when he kept his eyes shut. His face was burning and his body felt as if it was going to explode soon. Miles would imagine you also feeling your climax approaching as you'd grow louder and beg him to go faster.

And he would comply, tightly holding your waist and thrusting his hips upwards, meeting yours as well. The tip of his shaft would perfectly hit every sensitive spot in your body, making you go crazy above him as you'd take him so well. Just the thought of hearing your voice moaning his name made him feel guilty for touching himself to your image but he couldn't help himself.

You were in the center of his attention, nothing else mattered at this moment. Miles's ears tilted back at the hot feeling spreading through his muscles as he kept on going, feeling his legs go numb at the blinding pleasure he experienced. He felt this pressure building up for a long time when he wasn't able to see or hear you and he needed to release it.

The Na'vi's hand twisted itself around his throbbing manhood while running up and down his length as his hips instinctively thruster upwards. His breath was rapid and heavy while he barely kept up with the sensation tearing through him. Your voice rang in his ears, begging him to go even faster and he complied, pleasuring himself as quickly as possible until he finally experienced his big finish. Quaritch let out a low moan as ecstasy flooded his system and made him unable to think straight.

His member unleashed its load onto his hand and bedsheets, still pulsating around his fingers. Miles sighed in relief, resting his head against the pillow as his heartbeat slowly turned back to normal. He whispered your name with a smile, realizing what kind of a mess you just made of him. All this chaos just because of you, he couldn't recognize himself. Still, he wasn't fully satisfied on his own, he needed more, he needed you with him. If only you knew how crazy you drove him. Quaritch's definitely gonna ask you out tomorrow if that'd be the last thing he does. 

[sunlightmurdock]

For Old Times’ Sake | Bradley Bradshaw x Maverick’s Daughter Reader

Synopsis: Reader is back in town visiting her father after many years away and runs into a very pleasantly familiar face.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral (m&f), soft dom vibes, unprotected (kinda protected) sex, swearing

A/N: this took so long bc all my drafts kept getting deleted but I persevered because I love this man… hope you guys enjoy this one :’’)

…

“Y/N, do you know that guy?” Your best friend, Ashley, leaned over the bar of the Hard Deck, eyebrows furrowed as she looked past you. “He has not stopped staring at you for the past hour.”

“Who? Pornstache?” Your other friend, Lily, asked from the other side of you. You knew immediately who they meant.

You didn’t visit San Diego much anymore, not since your dad had lived here last when you were younger. The only reason you were visiting now was because your dad had been nominated for an award and he wanted you to be at the ceremony with him.

So, you had made a trip out of it. You had brought your closest girl friends, booked a nice hotel on the beach, gone clubbing and then decided to bring them back here. They had been bugging you to show them some hot pilots the whole trip.

You turned your head, smiling as you meet Bradley’s gaze across the bar. Rooster now. That’s what your dad had been calling him. You didn’t know him as Rooster, you had known him as Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw — the son of your dad’s best friend.

When you were in High School, you got into a huge fight with your mom and ended up going to stay with Maverick for a year. That was whilst he still lived here. During that time, you went to the same school as Bradley.

He might’ve been two grades above you, but he looked out for you and made sure no one thought of you as the new girl. He drove you home, took you to parties, looked for you at his Football games and let you wear his jersey. People thought you were dating for a while that year. You hadn’t ever dated.

“That’s Bradley Bradshaw.” You said, smiling into your martini as your eyes lingered on his. He grinned at you.

“The Bradley Bradshaw?” Lily gasped, leaning closer to you excitedly. “Big dick Bradley Bradshaw?” Ashley whispered, equally excited.

Yeah. You might not have ever officially dated Bradley, but you had lost your virginity to him a week before you moved back to Arizona with your mother.

You laughed at them, taking your lip between your teeth as you watched him hand his pool cue to one of the other guys he was with, ready to forfeit his turn at pool.

“Shh, shh — he’s coming over.” You hushed them, setting your martini down on the bar and standing up as he crossed the bar to you. He seemed taller now, and he must’ve been twice as big — he had just been a flagpole in high school, tall and broad but no muscle whatsoever.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” You smiled, looking him over as he approached you. His grin only grew as he squeezed past the group of people between you and him and reached you,

“Y/N Mitchell.” He bit his lip, shaking his head slightly as he let himself look you up and down. “You — uh, you look good. How are you?”

“I’m good.” You deadpanned, in awe at how much bigger he seemed. You thought back to that night with Bradley, both of you huddled in the back seat of his Ford Bronco out on the cliffs overlooking the base — there was no way you were both fitting in that backseat now.

Lily nudged you.

“Oh, uh — Brad, this is Lily and this is Ashley. They’re my friends from LA.”

“Yeah, your dad mentioned that you’re a lawyer or something up there now.” Bradley reached up and scratched the back of his neck. He paused his hand still there, watching all three of your eyes follow his movement and land on his flexed bicep. You looked away whilst your friends shamelessly continued to stare.

“And you’re a pilot now.” You breathed, knowing that that was all he had ever wanted. You had wanted to be a million different things over the course of your life, it still changed day to day even now. You had never met someone as focused as Bradley.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled again.

“Sorry to be forward — are you seeing anyone?” Lily interrupted, making Ashley snicker. You glanced at Bradley apologetically, though he didn’t seem phased in the slightest. He shook his head at her, smiling politely, “I’m not, no.”

“Rooster, the alarm on that piece of shit in the parking lot is going off again!” Someone called from behind the bar.

Bradley sighed softly, pushing his hand into his pocket and pulling out his keys, “Sorry ladies.” You recognised the keys, eyes flickering between the metal and him, “No way — no way do you still have that pile of scrap.”

Ashley and Lily glanced at each other knowingly. They knew yours and Bradley’s story clearly.

He held the keys up and nodded, “C’mon. Come see her. For old times’ sake.”

You glanced at your friends, both of their eyes wide and silently urging you to go. You giggled, linking your arm through his as he led you out of the packed bar.

The alarm was indeed going off, but you weren’t surprised. That car must’ve been at least fifteen years old, and Bradley had driven the mileage sky high in the year that you knew him so it must have been awful now.

“Nice face fuzz by the way.” You murmured, half wanting him to hear, halfway to shy to say it to this new Bradley. He laughed, bringing his hand up and stroking at it jokingly,

“Right? Remind you of anyone?”

You smiled, your eyes lingering on his face, nodding slowly, “You look just like him.”

You may have been too young to really remember a time when Bradley’s dad was around, but your dad had pictures of him everywhere. Bradley really did look just like him.

He slid his hand down into yours and squeezed it softly, and suddenly you were back in your junior year again. He still wore the same cologne he did back then. That was his dad’s too.

He released you hand as he reached the car, kicking the hood with his boot and making the obnoxious alarm stop abruptly. You laughed, bring your hand up and covering your mouth, “Jesus, Bradley. Why do you still have this?”

“Nostalgia.” He glanced back at you, a familiar look in his eye as he walked to the passenger side and opened the door. You glanced back at the bar, seeing both of your friends watching out of the window. What the hell. You slid into the passenger seat, glancing around and checking out the backseat.

Rooster closed your door and hopped in on the driver’s side, catching you looking and grinning, “Thinking back to the best night of your life, Mitchell?”

You laughed, scrunching your nose slightly — maybe it was but he didn’t need any extra boosts to his ego — “You mean the best five minutes of my life?”

Bradley let his jaw fall open, feigning offence and then scoffing, “Fi— five minutes? All I know is that the sun was up when I kissed you, and it was down when we were done. Now forgive me if I’m wrong, but by my calculations that’s over an hour, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I was your chemistry partner, your calculations were never correct.” You teased, knowing that he was absolutely right. He shot you an amused look, turning the keys in the ignition and moving the gear into reverse.

“Where are we going?” You asked, sitting back comfortably against the familiar leather seat. Rooster shrugged, “What? You have somewhere you need to be?”

“No.” You admitted, your heart racing as you watched him pull out of the parking lot. It was an odd feeling, being more comfortable than you had been around any man in years, and also having butterflies in your stomach like a silly teenager. You put your feet up on the dash, smiling slightly to yourself as he groaned,

“God — you know I hate when you do that.”

You did know that. You wanted to see if he remembered. Still, it made him drive more carefully when you did, you had noticed that once. About ten minutes into your drive, you realised where you were going. The state reserve. The cliffs. You giggled, pressing your hand to your mouth in realisation.

Bradley grinned, glad you had finally caught on.

“If you wanted to get in my pants, Bradshaw, you could’ve just asked.” You teased, rolling down the window on your side and breathing in the salty sea air. Bradley chuckled softly,

“I was thinking about being a gentleman and taking you out for dinner or something first. ‘Til you insulted my performance.” He looked over and winked at you, pulling his car up a bit back from the edge of the cliff. You sat up in your seat, examining the perfect view out over the base, taking your lip between your teeth.

This was all too familiar. You weren’t even supposed to be up on the cliffs that night with Rooster. You had been at a party the night before and had jumped in the pool with all of your clothes on, and when you had gotten home at 5am, your dad had flown off the handle.

That was one of the only times he had really yelled at you. He had really put you in your place. Had grounded you for the last two weeks of summer. But, being the dramatic teenager you were, you had called Bradley, snuck out of your bedroom window and come up here to cool off.

“Deep in thought?” Bradley brushed your hair back off of your shoulder, sliding his fingers up your neck and massaging his fingers through the hair at the base of your scalp.

“Just… remembering.” You blushed at the thought, feeling stupid for doing so. You were grownups now, with careers and exes. It was dumb sitting up here and blushing about someone you hadn’t seen in a decade.

“Seems like there’s a lot to remember,” Bradley mused, turning his head and looking out over the view. You nodded silently, chewing at the corner of your lip to calm your nerves. “Like a lot more than five minutes of stuff to remember.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out a smacking him in the chest, pretending you weren’t impressed by how solid it was. He grinned with you. It was only once your laughter slowed that you noticed the look in his eyes, your face flushing again.

“Come here.” He jerked his head.

You giggled, holding onto his shoulder with one hand and onto the roof of the vehicle with the other as you slid over the centre console and into his lap. His hands started on your waist, sliding up your back and moving forward to cup your cheeks.

He examined your features for a moment. You examined his. There were a few more lines than you remembered, significantly better facial hair than the wispy moustache he had once tried to grow in high school. His eyes were just as soft. His hands came back down to your sides, eyes following them as they moved before looking back at your face again.

He exhaled gently, leaning forwards and kissing you. You cupped his cheeks with both hands, humming contentedly against his lips. Bradley had always been very gentle with you, you appreciated that now more than you had then. You still liked a man who took charge, but you also knew he was just being what you needed more than what you wanted.

His hands slipped under your shirt just slightly, his fingertips skimming over your sides. He stroked them up and down, and back up again, bringing your skin up in a layer of goosebumps.

Your fingers slid up into his sandy hair, tugging lightly at his roots. His hands pawed at your breasts under your shirt as he pulled back and licked his lips,

“Your boobs finally came in.” He teased, pushing the cups of your bra down so he could really feel you. A cheap shot. You were a late bloomer, you had been flat as a board until college. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to hold back your smile as you smacked his head gently.

“Fuck you.” You giggled, shivering as his thumb swiped over your nipple. He pushed your shirt up, lifting it up over your head and connecting his lips to yours again immediately.

“Oh, so you were for sure planning on fucking tonight.” He chuckled breathily, his eyes falling down to the black lace on your chest. You shifted in his lap, licking your lips, “Maybe I was.”

You glanced at the backseat, furrowing your eyebrows slightly, “I don’t think you’re gonna fit in there, though.”

Bradley glanced down between the two of your bodies at the semi straining against his denim shorts, furrowing his eyebrows, “It’ll fit.”

“I meant that I don’t think you’ll fit in the backseat, Bradshaw.” You whispered, watching his features change in realisation. He rolled his eyes playfully, “I knew that.” He didn’t. You giggled as he peppered kisses along your chest, his hands still massaging at your breasts.

He glanced over his shoulder into the backseat and clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he realised you were most likely correct. He hummed, swinging the door open, pulling you closer against his body and wrapping his arms around you as he stepped out of the bronco.

“Woah — careful! Where are we going?”

You pressed your fingertips into his shoulders as he carried you around to the front of the vehicle, setting you down on the hood. You let out a breath, steadying yourself back on your palms, studying him, “Are we really gonna do this out here?”

Rooster lifted your chin, “Scared we’re gonna get caught?” He teased, pressing his lips to yours. He pressed both palms flat against the hood of the Bronco on either side of you, rutting his hips forward against yours. There was a soft breeze between the two of you, his warm hands a stark contrast to the chill in the air.

“Fuck it.” You breathed, feeling him smile against your throat as you tugged at the buttons on his Hawaiian shirt. He halfway helped you, shrugging it off of his shoulders and letting it fall into the dirt. Then his lips are on your again, his hands on your waist, pulling you against him. His kisses became less uniform. It becomes more desperate, uncoordinated and messy by the second as neither of you can hold yourself back anymore.

There had been other people in between but Bradley had ruined other men for you a long time ago. You had been waiting for this for a while.

One of his hands slid down your neck to hold you by your throat, not squeezing but just resting there, while the other remained steadfast on your hip – you find yourself shivering at the feeling of how big and strong they are, how you’re left entirely up to his mercy.

You could feel his erection, straining against his denim shorts as he rutted his hips forward against your clothed core. You breathed out hard, whimpering softly as he pulled away, kissing your chest, then your stomach as his hands worked open the button of your own shorts.

You lifted your hips for him to pull the material down your thighs, eyes twinkling as he glanced back to you, “Damn. I had my fingers crossed for the superman panties.”

You bit your lip. It wasn’t your fault — Bradley had just been your best friend, you weren’t planning on hooking up with him on that day. You had been wearing blue underwear with the superman symbol on the ass, which Bradley had found hilarious.

“These work, though,” he tugged your hips to the edge of the hood, crouching between your legs and pressing a kiss to your clothed core. He brushed the tip of his nose against your clit through the black lace, “Yeah, I like these.”

You giggled, sliding your fingers into his hair, spreading your legs for him. His finger tips pressed into you, his new trash stache tickling your skin as he grazed his teeth across the inside of your sensitive thighs.

If there was one thing Bradley had always done, it was tease you. Whether it was about your perfect grades, your low tolerance for alcohol or your superman undies. Today was no exception. His lips were everywhere except where you wanted them the most.

“Bradshaw, I swear to god,” You breathed, gripping a handful of his hair. “Touch me or lose me forever.”

He chuckled softly, his warm breath fanning out across your core, making you squirm. “Yes, ma’am.” He obliged. His fingers nudged the lace to the side and swiped two between your folds, teasing at your entrance.

You took a deep breath, arching your back up off of the hood as he slid two digits into you.

“God damn.” He murmured, kissing your hips, working his fingers in and out of you gently. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

He curled his fingers expertly inside of you, making you jolt against him.

“Missed me this much, huh?” He pressed his mouth between your legs, clasping his lips around your clit, pressing his tongue flat against you. You whined, your fingers curling against his scalp.

“Missed your cock.” You admitted playfully, rolling your hips down against his tongue. His left hand held your hips down against the hood as his fingers drove deeper into you, curling up against your g-spot, making you moan for him.

Rooster glanced up at you from between your legs, groaning gently. You looked fucking ethereal. Eyes closed, fingers covering his over your hip, your other hand on your breast.

“Be a good girl and cum for me and I’ll think about letting you have it.” He kissed your thigh, putting his mouth to work between your legs again as soon as he was done talking. You let your head fall back against the hood, writhing for him.

You licked your lips, breathing hard, “Don’t stop.” Bradley was happy to comply. You were in heaven, having a man who knew how to listen between yours legs. He didn’t speed up, didn’t slow down, just kept thrusting his fingers deep, curling them and working his tongue against your clit. His other hand rested across your pelvis, holding you down against the hood nice and still for him.

If it wasn’t for that grip, you would’ve been a wreck.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You admitted, lips parted as you stared up at the orange sky. Sunset. Of course he had brought you here at sunset. You moaned, blinking hard at the clouds over head, your fingers knotting in his soft brown hair.

Bradley kept up exactly what he was doing, coaxing you up to the edge and taking you straight over it. The clouds overhead were replaced by a blinding white, desperate moans spilling from your lips. And he still didn’t stop. You cursed, pushing yourself up on your elbows, trembling.

“B-Bradley…” You breathed, finally earning yourself a reprieve as he stood up between your legs and pressed his lips to yours. You could still taste faint spearmint on his tongue, the rest of it was all you.

You pushed yourself off of the hood, standing before him, trailing your fingers along the lines on his bare stomach. He was still so tall. You kept your eyes on him as you popped open the button of his denim shorts. He was silent, lips toying at a smile as you dragged the zipper down.

He raised his eyebrows at you, wetting his lip with his tongue, knowing exactly what you were waiting for him to say. His eyes were on you, daring you to ask him. You didn’t have to. His cock had been straining at that denim for long enough that he was willing to beg without you having to ask.

“Please.” He whispered.

Your lips curved up into a smile. Something about this decorated pilot, one of the best in the world, standing taller than you, asking so politely for you to suck his dick was so satisfying.

He swallowed, watching you kneel in front of him, tugging his shorts and boxer down enough to free his cock. You grabbed the back of his thigh with one hand, wrapping the other around his shaft, your eyes on him as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock, ending by wrapping your lips around the tip.

“Fuck,” He breathed, his thumb stroking at your cheek. “Whoever taught you how to suck dick was a fucking genius.” It was him.

You couldn’t help but pull back, laughing as you looked up at him. He shot you a wink, resting his palm on the hood of the car just past your head and taking his lip between his teeth as you wrapped your lips around him again.

It didn’t take a genius to suck a dick, but you had to admit that Bradley’s method had gotten you plenty of compliments over the years. You pressed your fingertips into his thigh, blinking tears back from your eyes as you slid him further into your mouth.

Bradley took in a sharp breath, groaning softly, “Hold on, holy shit…”

You pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and rising to your feet. He pushed you hard against the bumper of the car, slipping his arms around your body as he kissed you.

“I want you inside of me already.” You whispered, craning your head back as his lips assaulted your neck. He grabbed your hips, putting you up on the hood again, pushing the black lace between your legs to the side, his fist at the base of his cock as he lined himself up between your legs.

You winced slightly as he pushed the tip into you, his hand gripping the back of your neck, his lips pressing against your temple.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered against your ear, his breath making you tremble. You considered explaining to him that in reality he was just fucking huge. You whined at the feeling of him stretching you out, leaning back on your palms and hiking your legs up around his waist.

Bradley let out a hard breath as he bottomed out, his pelvis pressing tight against yours. His eyes watched the space between you as he rolled his hips, agonisingly slowly in and out of you. You took your lip between your teeth, sighing gently in relief as your body adjusted to the feeling of him.

“Brad?” You spoke tentatively. His warm brown eyes flickered up to you and you almost melted. You gulped, shaking your head as you remembered your original point. “I’m not made of glass.”

Bradley nuzzled the bridge of his nose against your jaw, thrusting unbearably slowly as he kissed your cheek,

“Honey, if you want me to fuck you like a whore then you have to ask.”

Your lips parted in surprise. He had always had a dirty mouth but you hadn’t ever heard this from him. He felt your walls contract around him, his hand guiding your hip as he continued his delicate thrusts.

He looked up at you again, his eyes seeming darker this time. He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, stilling his hips all together this time. You shivered.

“I-I…” Your cheeks flushed with heat, “I want you to fuck me like a whore.”

Always one to please, Bradley pulled out and flipped you over, tugging your ass back against him. He buried himself deep inside you once again in one swift thrust.

“Fuck!” You whimpered, hiding the head in the crook of your elbow. Rooster peppered kisses from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine, giving you just a moment to recover before dragging himself back and plowing forwards into you once again.

You flinched as Bradley’s hand came down on your ass, moaning into your elbow.

“You look so pretty taking my cock like this, honey.” He murmured, dragging his lips across the the middle of your back, his hand massaging your reddened ass cheek.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” You mewled pathetically. You cried out again, moaning softly for him each time your hipbones slammed against the hood of the car.

Bradley’s hand roamed up your back, tangling in your hair and scooping it up into a makeshift ponytail. You gasped as he tugged at your roots, pressing his bare chest against your back, exposing your neck to him as his lips assaulted your throat.

You arched your back, gasping desperately as his cock thrust even deeper into you, brushing your cervix. You cursed, doing your best to meet his thrusts, pushing your ass back against him. Rooster grunted softly, the noise reverberating in your ear drum and sending chills through you.

“Taking it so well for me, baby.” He whispered, kissing your neck.

His other arm tucked around your waist, holding you still as he rutted into you. Rutting was the only way to describe it. There was something so animalistic about the way he fucked.

He pulled at your hair, tugging you closer against his chest, snaking his hand between your legs. Your eyes fluttered closed, practically going limp in his arms for a moment. Until your hips slamming into the hood again brought you back. They were for sure going to be bruised as shit tomorrow. You would have to swap your bikini for Ashley’s one piece for sure.

“You close, baby?” Rooster whispered, his voice gruffer than it usually was. You nodded feverishly, whimpering as he finally released his grip on your roots, his hands sliding down to both grip your hips. Bradley grunted gently against your shoulder, his hips stuttering as they hit yours.

You jolted, placing your hand over his on your hip and gripping it as his other hand helped you over the edge once again.

“W-Wait- wait, you should probably pull out.” You stumbled over the words, barely remembering your own name as he drove your pelvis into the metal hood one last time. Bradley breathed hard, kissing your jaw, his cock twitching inside of you, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, “Nothing, I just got an IUD a couple days ago and I…” you paused, still trying to catch your breath, “I don’t know if it’s effective yet.”

Bradley hummed, pressing his lips to your jaw and then your temple, “What? — You don’t think Mav would be too stoked about me making him a grandpa?” He teased, thrusting once more, making you gasp.

“You’re an idiot.” You giggled, pushing your hips back against his. He grinned, turning your jaw and leaning over your shoulder to kiss you, rutting his hips forward against you.

You felt his hips stutter again, his soft breaths in your ear becoming faster.

“Fuck, okay — where do you want me to cum?” He whispered, his forehead resting against your shoulder. You made a nonsensical whimpering sound, resting your head in the crook of your elbow again. He could feel your legs against his, trembling.

You whined again as he pulled out sharply, gasping as you felt his cock brush against your ass cheek, warm ropes shooting across your ass and lower back.

He stayed there for a moment, groaning as he kissed your shoulder, before shaking his head and standing up right.

“Hold on one sec,” Bradley seemed much more coherent than you did as he walked around to the still open drivers side door. “Here you go.”

He walked back to you, chuckling softly to himself as he wiped off your back, “Shoulda taken you back to your friends like this, think they would’ve found it funny.”

You pulled your underwear back up correctly, grabbing your shorts off of the hood and pulling them back up your legs. It was at that point you realised what Bradley had balled up in his right hand as he buttoned his shorts with the other.

“Is that my shirt?”

Bradley glanced down at the now absolutely unwearable item in his hand, then looked back up at you, somewhat guiltily. Then he grinned, “Sorry. Here, you can wear mine. I’ll make it up to you.”

You glared at him playfully as he handed you the Hawaiian shirt he had been wearing and tossed your shirt onto his backseat. He shot you a wink, taking a step toward you an pressing his body against yours.

“So,” He tucked your hair behind your ear, those warm brown eyes setting in on yours again. “Better than the first time?”

“I dunno, Bradshaw,” you gave him a smug look over your shoulder as you walked over and slid into the passenger seat. He followed you, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Might have to try a third time for some more conclusive results.”

Bradley’s lips quirked up into a smirk as he turned the keys in the ignition, “Well in that case, I only live a couple minutes away.”

“I have to meet my dad early tomorrow morning, so I can’t be walking funny.”

Bradley laughed as he turned out of the clearing on the cliffs and headed back down to the main road. He shook his head, putting his hand on your thigh, shooting you a wink, “I’ll take it easy on you, honey.”

You scoffed, pushing yourself up on your knees and leaning over the centre console, pressing your lips to his neck, “I never asked you to do that.”

Bradley tilted his head from side to side, pretending to evaluate, “Maybe not. But I did notice that you forgot how to talk English for a little bit back there,” he teased, “so in the interest of preserving that big, smart brain of yours — I’m thinking maybe next time I shouldn’t fuck the language right out of you.”

You giggled against Bradley’s skin, trailing your fingertips along the inseam of his shorts until you reached his crotch. He bit the corner of his cheek, still grinning from his previous joke, his heart speeding up slightly as you stroked him over the shortsz

He took his lip between his teeth, shifting in his seat, parting his knees further to give you better access.

Lips pressing firmly to his throat, fingers dragging his zipper down agonisingly slowly then popping open the button on his shorts. Bradley groaned, pushing his head back against the headrest, rutting his hips up into your hand.

You worked your palm against his length over the denim as he pulled up to a red light. You hummed softly, turning his jaw towards you and pressing your lips to his. Bradley stiffened suddenly.

You pulled back, eyebrows furrowed as you looked him over. He was looking past you, lips parted slightly. You turned slowly, centring yourself back in your own seat, pulling your knees up to your chest as you followed his line of vision to the motorcycle stopped beside you at the lights.

Maverick looked between the two of you.

Rooster in the driver’s seat, his hair damp and falling messily across his forehead, sitting shirtless and his eyes wide. Then you. Wearing Rooster’s missing shirt, dirt on your knees, your hand still on his crotch.

Rooster slapped your hand back into your lap, swallowing hard. You winced as your father called you by your name. Your full name.

“Drive.” You demanded, slipping down in your seat. Rooster did a double take at you. He hadn’t realised that was an option.

“What?”

“Drive.” You demanded, watching the light finally turn amber. Bradley pressed the gas pedal down into the floor, eyes straight ahead.

“He’s going to rip the brakes out of my fucking plane.” He breathed, pressing his hand over his mouth. “I am so dead.”

You shook your head, “No… maybe he won’t be that mad. We’re both adults now, you know?”

Rooster glanced up into the rear view mirror, “Yeah, he’s following us.”

…

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[gracesimp]

Jealousy.

tenth doctor x fem!reader

SUMMARY : the doctor isn't too pleased with his companion's new friend. Donna gets inlvoved in some overdue matchmaking.

The Doctor's list of regrets is endless. He's said things he didn't mean. Treated people in ways he shouldn't have. Taken part is stuff he doesn't even allow himself to think about. But the newest addition to the list, by far, is his most regretful of them all.

He introduced y/n to Jack Harkness.

In his defense, there really wasn't any way of avoiding it. When using the rift to refuel the TARDIS's engines, he spotted the familiar coated figure of the Captain sprinting towards his ship. Following his past actions, he quickly rushed towards the console and started his ship, sending his faithful companions, Donna and y/n, flying across the room; completely unaware of the hijacker clinging onto the outside as they hurtled through the vortex.

When they landed at their next adventure, y/n immediately spotted Jack on his back in an awkward position on the floor.

"Doctor!" she yelled, making him and Donna rush towards them. Donna gasped as The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Not again." He moaned.

Donna and y/n looked at him in shock.

"You mean to say this has happened before?!" Donna exclaimed. "How many free passengers have done this?"

"Just him," The Doctor said, running his hand through his hair. "I think he's the only one who'd dare. The only one who could survive."

Y/n had been monitoring the muscled man, checking for consciousness and life signs yet not finding any. She looked up solemnly, "Doctor, I'm so sorry. But I can't find a heartb-"

She was inturpted by a strong intake of breath as the man sat up, her and Donna screaming. "I knew I shouldn't have skipped first aid class!"

Jack looked around, eyes catching the kneeling woman beside him and he lifted a finger to her chin, making their eyes lock and a blush take over her cheeks. "Hello." He smirked.

"Stop it!" The Doctor frowned, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I really don't mind." Y/n smiled shyly.

The Doctor was used to this. Jack flirting with every living thing but for some reason it irked him more than ever. Donna nudged his shoulder, a small smirk on her face, causing the timelord to scoff. "You not gonna introduce us?" She said, somewhat smugly.

Begrudgingly, he pointed to members of the group. "Jack, this is my friend, Donna. She travels with me. Donna, this is Jack. He used to travel with me. Now he runs a Torchwood in Cardif." They smiled at each other in greeting before Jack raised his eyebrows and watched the woman who had her arms wrapped around him for support.

"Are you not going to introduce me to this beautiful woman?" Jack asked, fingers brushing the young lady's heated face.

The Doctor sniffed, eyes avoiding the two on the ground and the snickering redhead to his side. "Jack, this is y/n, my...friend."

"Y/n," Jack began, smiling with his bluest eyes. "gorgeous name for a gorgeous lady."

And that's when it began.

Since then, the two had been inseperable. Always close to the other, always laughing or playfully bickering. And quite honestly, the Doctor hated it.

There had been an unfamiliar distance between him and y/n since Jack re-entered his life and stole his friend from him. He was quickly growing resentful.

From a distance, he heard the common occurrence of Jack and his companion's laughter, his frown deepening into a scowl as he hit a button on the console.

Donna noticed and slowly stalked towards him, watching as he slumped back into the pilot seat, eyes distanced and distracted.

"Oh, c'mon, Spaceman," She began, red hair cascading her face as her right hand was holding a hairbrush she was previously using. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." he sulked.

"Oh, come off it. You've been a right miserable git these past few days. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out the reasonings behind your sour mood." She rolled her eyes, walking back to the mirror she had been using to comb her hair prior to starting the conversation.

"How'd you mean?"

"Well, since y/n and Casanova over there met," She pointed into the hallway leading into the kitchen. "You've been sulking all over the shop."

"Donna, I have no idea what you're talking about." He denied, still not meeting her eyes.

"Lay off it. You're jealous."

"I am not-" he began but quickly halted when his voice had unnaturally raised a few octaves. "I am not jealous."

"Yeah, okay." Donna rolled her eyes, setting the brush down while abandoning the mirror.

"I'm not!" He exclaimed.

"I'm agreeing with you!"

"Mhm" He stood up, pressing a few more buttons, ignoring the ginger as she sat in his previously acclaimed seat. "Good."

A silence took over them as Donna stared at her hand, thinking about having y/n give her nails a touch up. "So.." She began, treading on water. "If you're not jealous, I'm sure you'll be happy to know that y/n and Jack are thinking on going on a date."

"What?" He frowned, jaw clenching.

"Yeah, that's what they asked me to come and tell you. Will you take them to a romantic planet. Maybe somewhere with a restaurant? Pretty lights. Jack wants it to be special for her." As she spoke, she hopped from the seat and walked to the exit of the room, allowing her voice to travel with her, leaving a glum doctor standing alone by his console with his thoughts racing.

Later that day, y/n jogged into the kitchen, dressed in pajamas with her hair tied back. She smiled, finding the doctor eating a banana as he leaned on the counter. "Hello, Doc!"

His eyes lit up at the voice he found himself missing. He chucked the remains of his fruit into the bin, smiling at his companion. "Hi."

"Donna told me to ask you about 'the trip.' She's been banging on about it! Says I need to dress fancy. Jack's already picking out his suit."

His mind thought back to the conversation he had with Donna earlier that day and a frown engraved itself onto his face. "Oh, right."

Feeling an uncomfortable atmosphere creep its way into the room, she opened the cupboard and searched for her supply of jaffa cakes the TARDIS had gratefully given her.

The Doctor watched, a small smile growing on the corner of his lips. The TARDIS really liked y/n. It was not often his ship would offer a selection of his guest's favourite delicacies to them.

"Y/n", he said, earning a soft noise of acknowledgement from her. "Are you..Happy..here? With me?"

Y/n dropped her chocolate on the counter, rubbing her hands free of crumbs as she looked up at her Doctor. "Of course I am! What a silly question. I love it here! I love the TARDIS, I love our adventures! I love y-" her words fumbled over the others and she looked down in embarrassment.

"Are you..going to leave?" He asked, insecurities flowing out alongside his words. Y/n stepped close to him and grabbed ahold of his calloused hands.

"Of course I'm not. You're not getting rid of me, TimeBoy." She smiled. "Where's this coming from?"

The Doctor looked down at their joined hands and he squeezed them lightly, not knowing what to say to fill the quietness.

"Doctor?"

"It's just..." He sighed, finally allowing himself to meet the eyes he'd found himself getting lost in so often, he could alonost count them as a second home. "I don't want you to date him." he mumbled.

"Date?" She asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "Who's going on a date?"

The Doctor looked perplexed, mouth opening and closing with no sound escaping them. "Donna said-" His mouth closed again, face hardening. "Donna." He whispered, rolling his eyes at his obliviousness to his sassy friends blatant lies.

Still confused, Y/n searched his eyes for answers. "Donna said what?"

Sighing, he explained, "Donna told me that you and Jack were going on a date."

"A date? With Jack?" Y/n laughed, crinkles forming under her eyes. "I love Jack, obviously, but only as a friend." She said, still laughing until realisation hit. "Wait, but would it be so bad if Jack and I were more than friends?"

"Yes." The timelord answered so quick.

"Oh, thanks." His companion said, dropping his hands while creating some distance between the two.

Understanding his mistake, he reached forwards and took her hands again. "But only because.. because .. I don't think you're suited well."

Y/n frowned but her eyes softened at the vulnerable look on her Doctor's face. It was his turn to stumble through his words and she watched as a pink hue danced upon his freckled cheeks and tinted the tops of his ears. "Doctor, what are you trying to say?" She prodded softly.

"I-" Forcing himself to say the words, he looked nearly pained. "I'm saying.. that you're better suited for someone else.." Penny in the air. "Someone like, well, me." Penny drops. "Y/n I am in love with you. So absoloutely and completely in love with you. I never thought I would find love again, but I did. I found it in you."

Silence filled the room once again. His brown eyes searched his companion's face but found no signs of mutual feelings. Her face had remained unchanged, no words leaving her lips. He searched her eyes, so used to being able to read everything she was feeling just by looking into them, though he again found nothing.

He started rambling, tripping over his words. "I'm so sorry, just forget I said anything, it doesn't matter." His hand tried to slip out of hers so he could exist the room, but she clung on firmer, not allowing him to move. "Really, y/n, I'm so sorry, just for-"

Suddenly he felt her soft lips on his. He let out a noise of startled surprise before it registered that she was kissing him. The dream he had dreamt a million times had became a reality. His mind sprung into action quickly, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer and deepening the kiss. His free hand reached up and stroked her cheek as their mouths moulded together perfectly.

She truly was made for him.

Breaking away, the doctor pressed his forhead to hers, lips barely distanced, both of them panting. She reached up and ran a hand through his gelled hair, before bringing it down and stroking his neck.

Both of their lips were plumped from the kiss, and she bit into hers before talking. "Doctor, I am just as equally as in love with you."

A massive smile broke onto his kissed lips and he tugged her closer, bringing her in once again. However, they were interrupted by cheering.

They turned their heads slowly, looking at the door and spotting his redheaded companion and immortal friend cheering and high-fiving, drowning in victory.

AHH, SECOND POST= DONE. hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for the support on my first fic. I'm really enjoying writing again! I used to love it, but I found myself doubting my abilities and becoming inconsistent with it. So, to have people read my work and like it is just unimaginable. Thank you! <3

[the-little-ewok]

From the kissing prompts: “we didn't kiss each other good morning." with Poe please and thank you 🥺🥹

Pièce de rèsistance

Poe Dameron x G!N Reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 2300 (ish)

Warnings : Cutesy cute fluff, body painting (kinda I guess 😂), lil bit of innuendo, kinda semi public make out, brief illusion/discussion on public sex (doesn't happen), rated M purely just for a lil sexual content.

Summary : You always kiss Poe good morning, but on the day you don't, he's going to make you pay the debt with interest.

A/N: yes I know X-Wing paint probably isn't safe to be on your skin. No I don't care. Let me live fanfiction how I like 😂

@dailyreverie - I hope you enjoy this silly little story!

Un-beta'd so sorry for the mistakes

—-------

You squeak in shock, dropping your paintbrush to the ground as a pair of arms suddenly slip around your waist, relaxing when you hear a familiar chuckle from behind you.

"Good morning," Poe mumbles, burying his face in your neck as he cuddles you tightly against his chest.

"Good afternoon," you tease with a giggle, hugging his arms briefly, before you loosen his grip enough to turn and face him. His hair is still a ruffled mess, and there's stubble on his chin that tells he's thrown on some clothes and come straight to you from bed. Your heart flutters a little at the sweetness.

"You know you don't have to do this?" He gestures to his X-Wing that you'd been repainting for the morning, using whatever leftover paints you could find. After the latest battle the paintwork had taken some heavy damage, and since Poe didn't have time to do it himself, you had offered to fix it up for him, if only to stop his sad grimace everytime he looked at the ship. You were sure of two things in life, that Poe loved you, and that he might just love his ship a little more.

"I know but I'm enjoying it. It's kinda therapeutic," you shrug. "How's your day been? Well the bit you've been awake for," you tease with a grin.

Poe sighs, "not a great start to be honest. I woke up in an empty bed and realised we didn't kiss each other good morning."

He does a fairly good job of trying to look unhappy, which you are sure he probably is, at least a little bit, but there's a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips that tells you he's teasing.

"I seem to remember that's because you were still asleep. I think there's a word for people that do things when you're asleep," you wink at him and Poe gives a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"You should have woken me up," he complains with a pout. "I wouldn't have minded."

You snort with laughter.

"Now we both know that's not true! Have you ever met you when someone wakes you up? Maker, I'd rather face down the First Order alone."

"What are you talking about? I'm sure I'm absolutely delightful," Poe grins at you, clearly knowing full well he is not in any way delightful when his sleep is interrupted. Thankfully waking him wasn't something you had needed to do very often.

Whether it was for missions, strategy ideas he needed to note down, or more recently nightmares he couldn't stop, Poe was usually awake before you, no matter how early you woke up. Morning kisses had become somewhat of a routine, and if you were honest, you had missed that this morning. But Poe needed the sleep and so when you awoke to the pilot still dozing beside you, you had decided to allow him the rest. In fact, you had taken things a little further to make sure he would stay asleep for as long as he needed.

Poe had been working long into the night training new recruits, fixing resistance ships, trying to get them into some semblance of fighting condition again, and generally running himself into the ground. Almost every night for a week he had barely collapsed into bed before he was up again and back to it. The circles under his eyes had become worryingly dark, and no matter how many times you begged him to slow down and take a break, he insisted he couldn't.

So while the pilot was sleeping you had crept out of bed, and taken matters into your own hands to ensure he got a decent amount of sleep, at least for today.

Watching Poe fish out his watch from his pocket, the one he always puts on the nightstand when he comes to bed with his alarm set, you bite your lip nervously.

"I would have been awake but somehow I seem to have lost the battery from this. No idea how considering it would have had to come unscrewed, be removed and screw the back in again. Pretty impressive technology to do all that by itself without me noticing, don't you think?" He muses, holding it up between you.

"Poe," you start, ready to apologise and explain.

"I do feel better though now. I guess I really needed the extra couple of hours," he interupts with a soft smile. The worry dissipates just as quickly as it had coiled in your belly.

"You aren't mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" He gives you a purely boyish grin, raising an eyebrow. "Wait… you don't...you don't happen to know anything about this do you?"

You shake your head, "Nope. Absolutely nothing. Haven't touched it, haven't even seen it. When did you even get that? I've no idea what it is," you giggle, playing along.

Poe hums thoughtfully, regarding you with playful suspicion before he slides the temporarily useless watch back into his pocket.

"Well, if you do happen to see the battery anywhere, I would like it back, eventually."

You nod in confirmation, said battery suddenly feeling like it was burning a hole in your pocket. "Duly noted. I'll keep my eyes open,"

"Good," Poe nods, knowing he will find his watch magically fixed and back on the nightstand by tomorrow morning. "Now, I do need to address this kiss issue. You now owe me a kiss good morning, a kiss to say thank you for coming all the way across here to get the good morning kiss, a kiss to make up for missing the first kiss, and," he pauses, looking at his wrist to check his watch, before he remembers he isn't wearing it anymore. "I'm sure by the time we are done with those you'll owe me your afternoon missed you kiss."

"That's a lot of kisses all in one go." You sigh dramatically, giving him a serious look. "Do you think you can handle that all at once? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you."

Poe gives you a look of warning, one that tells you he'll be bringing that back up later, if only to prove how easily he can overwhelm you.

Taking your hand he all but drags you around the back of the X-Wing, where the noise of people coming and going seems more muted. It's nowhere near private, but it's about as private as you can get with the limited amount of time you have together.

"Up you go," he instructs, gesturing to the crates you had stacked into steps in order to reach the higher parts of the ship on this side. You blink at him in confusion, unsure if you've heard him correctly above the noise, but he simply gestures again for you to go up. Curiously you do as he asks, wondering what he's up to now.

Poe carefully follows until you reach the top. It isn't high but you notice Poe keeps one hand on your hip, just in case you do wobble.

When you reach the top he spins you to face him, before backing you up and pressing your back against the X-wing, pinning your body to the metal with his. Maker it sends heat flashing across your skin to have him so close. You realise this is why he wanted you up here, out of the way, unable to escape making the payment he demands.

"Kisses. Now."

"You're so cute when you're impatient," you giggle. Moving your hand to hold the side of his neck you pull his lips to yours, unable to wait any longer yourself.

You take your time with the kiss, kissing his top and bottom lip before you fully kiss him, your other hand slotting your fingers into the belt loops of his pants, holding him close. Poe pouts when you pull away before he's anywhere near enough of you.

"Good morning," you grin.

Before he has a chance to reply you press your lips to his a second time. This time you kiss him a little longer, but only long enough for him to run his tongue along your lower lip, seeking to deepen the kiss. You pull away with a devilish grin, ignoring his unimpressed look.

"I'm sorry you had to walk 60 yards to get your good morning kiss. Must be a terrible time for you with all those long steps across the yard," you tease sarcastically.

"Less talking, more paying kisses," Poe grumbles, his cheeks already flushed, his fingers digging into your hips as he grips you tightly. Along with Poe's long hours came the fact that you didn't have much awake time to spend together, and clearly it was starting to become a struggle for you both.

With a grin you drag his mouth back to yours, the kiss escalating faster this time, Poe's body pressing tighter against you. You kiss him hard this time, allowing your tongue to dip into his mouth, pulling a soft groan from the pilot who's turned to putty in your hands. You tangle your fingers in his curls and tug gently, causing him to nip your bottom lip in shock. He gets his revenge by slotting his thigh between your legs, making you gasp.

"Poe, people might see," you whimper against his mouth, desperately fighting back the urge to grind down against his leg.

"Let them see the consequences of missed kisses," he shrugs, staying exactly where he is. "Sooner you pay what's owed the sooner I might let you go."

You bite your lip, picking up on the might in his words. "What if I like being right here?"

Poe lets out a groan, pressing you harder against the ship. You're both breathing a little heavier now, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Don't tempt me. The extra hours sleep have given me a lot of energy," he whispers in your ear.

Oh well now you want nothing more than to tempt him, to drag his mouth to yours and let him devour you. But you know deep down now isn't the time, or the place.

Still, you can't quite quell the lustful thoughts that fill your mind.

"I owe you one more kiss," you offer temptingly.

"Trust me, I want to kiss you again so bad but if I do, I think the resistance is going to see a lot more of you than you want them to," Poe laughs softly, running his nose up the column of your neck as he holds you close. "Perhaps we need to keep a log and you can pay later?"

While you nod in agreement you still can't help stealing a quick kiss from him. It's nothing more than a fleeting brush of your lips against his, but Poe's smile lights up his face at the gesture. Both of you have missed the time to be close like this, to have the energy for this playfulness.

When he finally lets you step away from the ship, after another two quick kisses, he suddenly bursts out laughing. You frown, once more confused before he spins you around to see your own body print in the paint that has clearly not quite dried.

"Oh no!" You groan, reaching around to feel the wet paint on your back. Bringing your hand back around you see the black coating your fingers and let out a curse. "Shit. I'll have repaint it!"

"Leave it there," Poe grins, "It's very artistic." He tilts his head, as though admiring it like a painting. "Yeah, I like it. Especially this bit," he gestures to the perfect imprint of your ass against the ship.

"It looks a mess now," you sigh sadly. Your intention had been to make the ship look better, not worse.

"Actually, I was just thinking we could come back tonight and do your front on the other side," Poe shrugs. You feel heat creeping up your neck at his suggestion.

"Poe, you are not flying around with my body imprints on your ship!"

"Yeah," he nods entirely ignoring you, "maybe we could do them in a different colour? I'm sure we have some more orange paint laying around. Could paint all my favourite parts." He wriggles his eyebrows at you and you try not to laugh.

"Absolutely not!"

Poe sighs, resigned that you aren't enamoured by the idea of the entire resistance seeing you plastered against his ship, before he grins in an all too familiar, worrying way.

"What about if it was somewhere only I would see? Like the cockpit? Little bit of paint on some, select areas," he squeezes your ass making you jump with a squeak. "We could put it on the pilot's seat. Consider it interest for failing to pay your kisses on time."

You turn to stare at him as he wipes the paint he's gotten on himself from touching you, on the side of his pants, trying to work out if he's serious. He can't really want you to leave an imprint of your ass in his ship. But when he meets your gaze he's deadly serious and you burst into laughter. It's absolutely absurd that of all the tokens you could give him to travel with, that's what he wants.

"Is that a yes?" Poe laughs. "It'll be fun. I'll make it fun," he promises, his tone dropping to imply exactly the kind of fun he means.

You really should be considering how little the cockpit is, how uncomfortable it might be to squeeze you both in, how impractical his suggestion is, but the amusement is so bright in his eyes it obliterates anything else. You don't want to crush his little fantasy just yet, so you laugh with a nod.

"Alright Flyboy, you got a deal. Now go fetch me the paint so I can fix this." You gesture to the smudged mess of your imprint.

"One second," Poe pauses, staring at it hard "just committing it to memory."

You roll your eyes at him.

"If I push you off, I could say it was an accident," you threaten. Poe laughs looking down at the floor before back at you. He launches himself the crates, easily jumping down, landing gracefully on his feet and grinning up at you. He takes a dramatic bow, one that shouldn't be as cute as it is.

"By the way," he shouts as he disappears around the ship to retrieve your paint can, "you owe me another kiss for fetching you this."

Maker, at this rate you'll never get the job done

-----------

Thanks for reading! Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed! Remember your interaction keeps writers writing!

[drafthorsemath]

Home

A/N: I still want Tech to be alive so I’m making it happen and all working within the scope of canon. Here we have old man Tech and Phee.

Warnings: disabled Tech, talk of his fall and the aftermath, discussion of broken bones and almost bleeding out

Word Count: 1.534k

There was a lot of hustle around the rebel base. Several pilots were headed out, but Tech was more concerned with who was coming in. Omega had comm’d to say she left Pabu and was on her way. Tech sighed. Just as she was coming he would be going. More than that, while he and Phee stopped by so they could use their skills to fix up an old ship for a new crew, Omega would be out in the thick of it and he was worried for her. He knew they were all worried about her, but just as he respected Echo’s choice and Crosshair’s choice in years past, he respected hers as well. She was as ready to be a rebel pilot as ever, very much in part to the lessons he gave her back on Pabu.

“Hey Brown Eyes,” Phee said with a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Nearly,” he replied, smiling as she ran her hand through his graying and still thinning hair.

He reached for his spanner on the side of his hoverchair and continued to work on the power booster in front of him. He flinched just slightly as he made some adjustments. The arthritis wasn’t making it any easier. Still, he was pleased that while there he and Phee showed some new recruits as many skills as they could.

He put his tools back in place along the side of the humming hoverchair and took a breath. Phee smiled down at him. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. She was as lovely as ever. Gray streaks in her hair and small wrinkles forming on her face, but no amount of time dulled her spirit. He could never forget the day he finally made it back to Pabu and the relief he felt to see her and his family. Echo was off with Rex, but he was assured he was safe. Omega and Crosshair were home and Wrecker and Hunter had started easing into island life. 

“Better late than dead?” he asked the first time he saw Phee after stumbling off a ship.

She threw her arms around him with tears in her eyes and despite the pain he was still in, he embraced her warmth.

“So much better late than dead, Brown Eyes.”

His body had been through so much. Bones had taken months to mend and he knew that some of them hadn’t healed properly. He went through the painful process of a doctor rebreaking and resetting them. Phee sat with him through every procedure and he knew for sure that he wanted her in his life for however long it was. He woke up in agony after the worst of it, his lower back and legs in braces. She sat in a chair and rested her head on the bed near him. He softly smiled and put a hand on hers. 

During his recovery they started running low on med patches. She flew into imperial territory just to get more for him and to restock the supply on the island. It was during that time he was able to catch up with Crosshair. Both men were relieved to see each other and it didn’t take long for them to find their way into a comfortable mix of conversation and shared silence.

“How did you do it?” Crosshair asked. “Survive?”

“I thought that was probably going to be the end of me,” Tech admitted. “But I was able to change the angle of my fall and thankfully I hit the edge of a body of water and softer ground. The impact probably would have killed me otherwise.”

He went on to explain that all he could remember was trying to take his helmet off because his comms had died and his helmet cracked. Somewhere along the way he lost his goggles and slowly realized a piece of broken armor had pierced his abdomen. He kept it in place to reduce the risk of bleeding out as he stumbled along, but the terrain quickly became the familiar stone they saw poke above the mist. All he remembered was passing out and waking up briefly on a ship. When he got to this part of the story, he recalled Phee warning him not to run off with any pirates. Of course it was the pirates who saved him. Granted, they thought they could get some money selling his armor and possessions and were unable to get the elaborate set up off his body with his chest plate twisted as it was, so they just took all of him. One of the pirates couldn’t stand to watch him bleed out and so got him some minimal medical treatment that ended up being just enough to save his life. He spent months trying to get back to Pabu and contact his brothers, but the Empire was everywhere at this point and he had to focus on not getting caught since he couldn’t very well run from them. His best bet was to be friendly with the pirates and help them in an attempt to help himself. He knew the coordinates to some useful planets and knew how to fix just about any broken thing put in front of him. He essentially hitched a ride around the galaxy while his body tried to mend.

Tech looked at his brother with a bit of a grimace.

“I decided if they want to use me for my skills then fine. It kept me alive and I used them as transport in return. Eventually we made it close enough that I knew I could probably get here without a major medical event. I took a small ship, left while they were out drinking, and finally made it to Pabu. You know the rest.”

Crosshair put his hand on Tech’s shoulder just as his brother had done with him countless times.

“We survived and we’re here now,” Crosshair said. “That’s all that matters now.”

It took weeks for Tech’s body to heal the rest of the way, but this time he had hope and real help. Even on days when he could barely move, Phee and his brothers helped him get up and down, made sure he had something to eat, made sure he had something else to keep him occupied, and helped him in and out of the refresher. Once he was ready, Tech accompanied her on trips to recover artifacts. Phee was extra careful, knowing that his soldiering days were very well behind him and never wanting him put in too much danger. Still, he had a few tricks up his sleeve and was very creative when it came to making technology work for him even when his body struggled. More than that, he simply wanted to be with Phee any way he could.

Unfortunately as time went on, his old injuries made it difficult to walk very far. He crafted his own hoverchair, but could still go from the chair into bed or another seat. He still walked short distances, but the chair supported him for the most part. He was not-so-secretly fond of asking Phee to sit in his lap and taking her for “a stroll” around the island.

When Echo got word that the rebellion needed help rebuilding a ship, Tech’s face lit up. There was no stopping him. He and Phee would be back to Pabu after this one last job. Just one more ship to rebuild and then he could rest. Of course Phee knew better and shook her head. As much as his body was giving out on him, his head would never rest and it was one of the things she loved most about him. He always kept his mind occupied, exceptional as always.

They finished loading some items onto their ship, but stayed to greet Omega when she landed. He embraced his sister before grilling her on piloting procedures only to be met with a familiar pair of rolled eyes and an affectionate smile. Omega invited them up to see the upgrades she made to her ship. Tech greeted Gonky and was satisfied as he looked around. They said their goodbyes and Omega promised to come back and visit when she could.

“I still don’t know why she insists on keeping my old goggles with her,” Tech said as he and Phee boarded their ship.

“Because it reminds her of you,” she replied.

“Not one of our fondest memories,” he said, gazing up into his beloved’s eyes with a sad smile.

“No, but it’s all we had to hold on to for months as far as physical items,” Phee countered. “You know Omega. She brought Lula with her. She likes having those things to hold on to.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re right.”

Tech lifted himself from the hoverchair and gingerly moved to the co-pilot seat. Phee was right there ready to lend a hand, but he still had enough strength to move himself. She parked his hoverchair right behind them and pressed a kiss to his forehead before sitting in the pilot seat and punching in the familiar coordinates to Pabu. It was time to go home.

[mysteriousmaninthesmoke]

Next - Latest

SOOOOO..... I have been seeing animal HRT show up on Twitter a lot in the trans community because of @ayviedoesthings little dragon comic so I thought "Hey why don't I join the fun." But there are two problems.

I'm a straight cis mostly white guy and

I AM HORRIBLE AT DRAWING ANYTHING THAT IS NOT A ROBOT!

SO I DECIDED! ah to hell with it I never cared about my masculinity, I am a being of ADHD, autism, OCD, AND CHAOS! FATE GAVE ME A MALE FORM TO EXIST IN!! I WOULDN'T GIVE A FLYING FLIP IF TOMORROW IT GAVE ME A FEMALE ONE!!! and also I'll just do it in a written story. but I am not doing someone going through the whole HRT process. 1. because I would probably be very grim describing it and 2. my brain won't stop thinking about what would happen if the military had access to a drug that would turn their soldiers into animal soldiers. SO HERE IS

PROJECT CHIMERA

Part 1

General Samuel grumbled as he rode the elevator down. If it was up to him he would have never approved this project. If it was up to him he would have never tested this on former soldiers. If it was up to him he would have gone with the doctor with the German-sounding name instead of putting the cryptic scientist who somehow knew about the project and contacted the government about being in charge. And if it was up to him he would have never would have never put himself as the one to be reviewing this project. As the elevator stopped and the doors opened Sam saw a man in a lab coat waiting for him. "Ah, General. So nice of you to visit us." said the man. Sam assumed this was the scientist. Doctor Thánatos. "Come in, Come in. I got something big I want to show you." The scientist turned around and quickly walked down the hallway. As Sam walked down the hall with the scientist, he noticed big cells to his sides with humanoid beasts in them with the names of the occupants by the cell, one of whom he recognized. Sergeant Thorn, one of the best hand-to-hand fighters he knew, before she lost her legs and an arm in an explosion. But now it looks like she was more than a fighter, she was a beast. Not only were her legs and her arm back, but she now sported green scales and a long tail. She resembled a female version of the villain the lizard. Suddenly Thorn jumped towards him, causing him to step back. her claws struck the reinforced glass wall that divided them. She let out a guttural laugh. "Ah, it's nice to see a familiar tasty face." She said licking her teeth "What's wrong soldier. Don't you know time changes people?" Sam was shocked. This was not the Thorn he knew he knew. She was tough, but she would always rather make friends than start a fight. "What's wrong captain. Not happy to see old friends captain." Said a voice behind him. Sam quickly turned around and saw in front of him a creature with dark black feathers covering its body, razor-sharp claws for feet and hands, and giant black-as-night wings sprouting from its back. "Oh sorry is it General now?" It said from a sharp-beaked mouth. Sam turned to look at the nameplate. Pilot O'hares. Sam knew him. One of his old drink buddies. He had heard that he quit the Air Force when he crashed his favorite jet, one he had gone on so many missions with, saying he would never fly again. "Ah, Ignore them. They aren't important right now." Sam turned to the scientist who was at the end of the hall by a big metal door. He was about to question what he did to his old friends when he noticed something. Three empty cells, one of them having more dust than the other. Doctor Harris, Private Gorgonzola, and Private Tompson. "I got some questions for you egg head. Why the hell are these people in cells, Why the hell are three of them empty, AND WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THEM!" The General yelled angrily "I was told they would look more human like this far into the project and not like animals. They also shouldn't be acting like ones too." The scientist only let out a laugh. "Oh I will answer the first and third questions but I will only answer the second once you see what's behind these doors. Now the cells are for ours and also for their safety. The normal drug that excuse of a doctor is selling is quite too slow, so with some modifications, I was able to speed it up, though it does seem to increase a person's animalistic instincts. Still, I see that as an improvement. My version is much more suited for the battlefield." The scientist pressed some buttons on a keypad and the metal door opened. "Now let me show you my personal project."

This is part 1 and part 2 will be out soon

[wanderinginksplot]

Commander Fox + Mercenary!Reader

As a mercenary, you travel in and out of Coruscant a lot. You find it more than a little strange that Commander Fox himself always seems to be on the Coruscant Guard team investigating your transport when you come back planetside...

Commander Fox x gn!reader (platonic-ish, with a hint toward future feelings)

Thanks to @nowait-whathappened for the prompt!

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings: mentions of weapons, mentions of bodily injuries, implied lack of trust

Masterlist

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“Transport 47816, prepare for boarding.”

The groans that echoed through the transport ship were instant and harsh. None of the familiar faces around you held an expression more pleasant than ‘irritation’, but you were well used to this by now. 

“Why?” Kann bit out harshly. You tried not to roll your eyes, but it was a close thing. As the Lament’s near-constant pilot, Kann knew exactly why you were being boarded just outside of Coruscant’s airspace, but that didn’t mean he was going to make things easy. 

“Transport 47816, you’re returning from a neutral star system. It’s protocol.”

Kann snarled. “Shove the protocol up your-”

“Shut up and let the troopers on the ship,” Skoh ordered. “I don’t have time for you to argue with the whole damn Guard.”

Despite his previous eagerness for a fight, Kann clenched his jaw and nodded. “Dropping shields now.” 

Kann was one of the more reckless members of the Lament, but Nakte Skoh was a force to be reckoned with. When the tall Togruta spoke, every one of the mercenaries on the team listened. Disobeying him was a good way to get killed - sometimes by the enemy and sometimes by Skoh himself. 

The troopers who boarded the transport were wearing the familiar Coruscant Guard colors. You even recognized a few of the patterns and greeted them with a slight nod. You wouldn’t have minded being a little more exuberant, but not among your coworkers. It would be unwise to show too much emotion surrounded by mercenaries. 

“Everyone stand.” Grumbling. “Leave all weapons here. We will be interviewing each of you separately.” More grumbling, even as everyone started to reluctantly comply. 

The trooper issuing instructions was none other than the commander of the Coruscant Guard, Commander Fox. You could recognize him by his visored helmet easily enough, but there was something in his voice. What exactly made his tone was hard to pinpoint, but if pressed, you thought you could pick it out of a crowd. Even if that crowd were made up of other clone troopers. 

So you stood with the others, smoothly pulling your blasters and blades out from their usual places. The pile they made on your empty seat was respectable, the wear on the weapons a mark of your ability to use every one. With a last quick count to make sure none of the other mercenaries decided to take something that wasn’t theirs, you followed everyone to the link between your ship and the Guard’s. 

“Hope they’ll be less stupid about their weapons checks this time,” Yarrex muttered to you. The Kiffar was impatient at the best of times, but she knew her stuff better than most. “Last time, they misaligned the power pack on my rifle. If I hadn’t checked, it would have taken all of us out.”

You nodded fervently, remember how close a call that had been. Yarrex’s rifle had been actively overheating by the time she returned to the transport ship and she had hissed loud curses the whole time she fixed it. You couldn’t blame her - the smell from the flesh of her fingertips burning had lingered in the ship for days. 

There was a Coruscant Guard trooper just inside the larger ship, ushering you to your ultimate destination. “This way, down the hall-”

“-And to the right,” you finished. “I know, I know.”

“Been here a few times?” Yarrax asked over her shoulder. 

You shrugged, glad there was no one else behind you. What you were about to say could easily turn into tales of bad luck, and eventually spiral into you not being hired onto as many jobs. “Every single time I come back to Coruscant.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the trooper protested. 

You aimed a dry look in his direction. “We both know it is, Chase.” 

“I didn’t know they had names,” Kann remarked as he was led to one of the interrogation rooms. 

Yarrax hissed disapprovingly at his back. The trooper stammered, “I- I’m not Chase.”

“Save it,” Skoh advised with a nod in your direction. “That one can smell lies.”

Chase glanced at you, clearly nervous even through the protective cover of his helmet. You gave him a broad smile and went to sit down. 

Chase and the trooper who had directed you to the interrogation area were watching the room. The unfamiliar one had a medic’s cross on one shoulder and you wondered idly whether the Guard was expecting trouble. 

They shouldn’t, honestly. The standard Coruscant Guard procedure was to pull everyone into individual rooms to ask questions about the most recent mission. The Lament had some latitude in the way they conducted business, but everyone made a point of being as vague as possible in their answers. It was an entertaining game you all played when you came back to Coruscant. 

Though, apparently, no one played it as often as you. 

There were two interrogation rooms being used at the moment. The ship had at least a few more, but Lament missions were made up of ten mercenaries by rule - no more, no less. With Kann and another mercenary in the interrogation rooms, there apparently weren’t enough of you to warrant using more rooms. 

Mercenaries weren’t the most lively and talkative bunch, especially not after a long mission. A few of them shut their eyes to catch a few moments of sleep. The lone Nautolan in the Lament, a female named Veng, worked on repairing a tear she had gotten in the shoulder of her shirt. The needle flashing in and out of the ripped halves was mesmerizing, but your attention was caught by Skoh. 

Your leader was watching the room, gaze intent as he studied the mercenaries and the troopers watching you. There was no real tension in him, not even the kind disguised by the specific relaxation he took on when a negotiation was leading toward violence. But he was awake and alert, so you decided that you should be, too. 

Not that there was any reason to, of course. Skoh and Yarrix were the next to disappear into interview rooms as the first two went back to the transport ship. You weren’t among the next two to be called, or the ones after that. When it was only you and Veng left on the Guard ship, the door opened for Khyr to step out. Commander Fox stood in the doorway, sternly announcing that you were next. 

Veng didn’t glance up to see the amused look you gave her, but that was fine. It hadn’t really been for her, anyway. The commander stepped aside for you to enter the interrogation room, then closed the door before following you to the table. 

“Commander Fox,” you greeted with a nod. “How are you? How’s the wife?” 

The commander removed his helmet, all the better for you to see the confusion and exasperation mingling on his handsome face. “The wife.” 

“Or husband,” you amended. “Or partner. Non-specific.”

“I don’t have any of those,” he told you. “Did you get hit on the head during this massacre?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the way you always did when he disparaged your line of work. “Not a massacre. Not this time, at least. We do things other than kill people, you know.” 

“Yeah? What was the objective on this mission?” 

It just so happened that the mission you were returning from had been far more violent than expected, so you stepped neatly around the question. “Anyway, the point is that I see you so often, I feel like I should get to know something about your life. With anyone else, I would know about their partner or children or pets or hobbies. I see you more often than my parents.” 

“That so?” Fox asked, tilting his head to deliver his skeptical expression to best effect.

“Not in the slightest,” you admitted easily. “But it has come to my attention that not every Lament mission gets investigated by the Guard when they return to Coruscant.” 

Fox stiffened slightly. “We do our best to stop every transport, but our team is spread thin…”

“I’m not doubting your work, Commander,” you assured, “just your selection methods. Why is it that my team is always the one to be stopped?” 

“Coincidence.” 

Now, it was your turn to be skeptical. “You’ll have to do better than that, Fox.” 

His eyes widened briefly and you wondered if you had offended him by dropping his title, but he recovered in the next instant. “Are you suggesting that we should be suspicious of you?” 

“No, but you are,” you countered. “Otherwise, why would you always be focused on my missions?” 

“I told you: we aren’t.” 

Despite the way Fox’s teeth were gritted, you pushed on. You had a trump card, and you intended to play it: “Then why are you here? You, specifically? The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, investigating a transport full of mercenaries? You have better things to be doing than this. It’s suspicious.”

“I’ve told you, it’s a coincidence.” Fox sounded overly stubborn, even for him. 

You lifted your hands innocently in front of yourself and leaned backward in your chair. “Fine, fine. Total coincidence. Your complete lack of supporting evidence or further arguments has convinced me. Proceed with your interrogation, Commander.” 

He scowled intensely at you, but sat in the chair across from yours and started with the typical round of questions. Name, address, interplanetary work-travel permit number, employer, job title.

When you had answered them all successfully, Fox set his datapad down on the table between you. “Now, tell me about the mission you completed just prior to coming back to Coruscant.” 

“We were on Raydonia,” you answered easily. “We were hired to protect a village.” 

Fox gestured for you to continue when you stopped. “And what were you protecting them from?” 

“They were hit by two unknowns a few weeks ago.” The explanation was a little shaky, but it was the only one you had been given. It was still more than you usually got for a job and you were fine with that, but Fox seemed determined to think you were untrustworthy. “They took some of the most powerful warriors in the village. The village elders were worried some of the surrounding people might take the chance to attack them. They were right.” 

“Were there any casualties?” Fox asked, carefully not looking at you. 

You smiled despite yourself. “No Republic citizens were harmed.”

It was a vague and a polite way of reminding him that he had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Republic-controlled planets. Technically speaking, Fox had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Coruscant, but you wouldn’t bet on that stopping him. 

“And among your team?” he asked. “No injuries or deaths?”

“Nothing major,” you told him with a shrug. “You can count. I’m sure you noticed all ten of us are here and accounted for.” 

“What about minor injuries?” he pressed. 

You knew better than to shift in your chair, or look away from the easy eye contact you had maintained up to that point. Fox was an expert, and a sharp one at that. The smallest possible tell and he would know everything there was to know. That was what made him dangerous.

“None to speak of.” 

Even your flawless delivery left him looking distinctly skeptical. “Then why are you limping?” 

Despite the surge of frustrated exasperation that rose in you, your lips curved into a smile. “You’re too observant for your own good, Commander.” 

“Which isn’t an answer.” 

That made you chuckle aloud. “No, it wasn’t. But since you’re so insistent on an explanation, I sustained a minor injury on the mission. I treated it promptly and it is well on its way to healing.”

“How were you injured?”

Dimly, you wondered if Fox realized that he had leaned forward slightly under the weight of his own intensity. But only dimly, because most of your attention was drawn to the way he was even more handsome from a shorter distance away. 

“Why?” 

Fox blinked, and it seemed to break the spell he had put himself under. An instant later, he was scowling again - a fairly regular expression for him during these stops. “Because I’m the Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard and I asked you a direct question.” 

“I don’t answer to you,” you reminded him, privately savoring the look of profound irritation blossoming on his face. “Not about missions that take place in independent systems. Even if they result in injuries.”

“Maybe I have cause to believe that you sustained that injury in Republic territory,” Fox proposed. “Maybe I need proof you aren’t lying to me.” 

For a mercenary, you were even-tempered. Remarkably so, in fact. It helped you get along with your more volatile coworkers. But you did have a temper, and when it sparked, you were far from subtle. 

The slam of the chair’s front legs reconnecting with the floor was loud. Fox didn’t jump - he had too much control over himself for that - but his eyes darted to yours in a way that made his surprise evident. Your hands connecting with the top of the table between you was loud, too, the sound specifically and purposefully sharp.

You leaned in toward Fox and the expression on your face was unpleasant enough that he looked concerned. “I like you, Fox. I think you’re a good man doing your best in the galaxy’s worst job. That’s why I’m gonna give you this one warning: I do not appreciate being called a liar.”

“I didn’t-” 

Your gaze was hard as you stared him in the eyes. Fox looked startled as well as concerned by that point. He had never seen you truly pissed before. 

“Yes, you did,” you said firmly. “I will be the first to admit that I exaggerate. I dramatize. I embellish for comedic effect. But I do not lie. I have never lied to you or any of your men, despite what is verging on harassment. I do not intend to lie in the future, and I don’t want to file a harassment charge, but all of that depends on you.”

It was honestly a shock when Fox didn’t take advantage of your pause to speak. It told you that he understood how deadly serious you were. With his attention sharp on you, you told him, “I’m a reasonable person. I am willing to overlook this misstep… once. And that offer is entirely dependent on what you say next.”

“I’m sorry,” Fox said, honesty ringing in the simple words. You waited for more and he obliged: “You’re right, you have never lied to me - to any of us. Not about anything big. It was unfair of me to accuse you of it.” 

“And why did you?” you asked. 

The question felt a little like twisting a blade in an injury, but you needed to know. You needed to know that it wasn’t going to happen again, and if it did, you needed to know enough to anticipate it. Because you had grown to respect Commander Fox, damn it, and it had hit surprisingly hard to have him misjudge your morals so dramatically. 

“I… don’t like the idea of you being injured,” Fox admitted, sounding mystified. You understood, since that explanation left you feeling a little mystified yourself. “I would like to know about your injury if you’ll agree to tell me.”

You watched the commander for another long moment, doing your best to gauge his sincerity. It wasn’t easy - especially since it required you to look past those lovely eyes and flawless bone structure - but you managed. It was one of your most reliable skills, after all. Fox seemed to be telling you the truth.

When you leaned your chair backward again, the tension in the room shattered. You sent him a cryptic half-smile. “You know us mercenaries,” you drawled. “We don’t give away anything for free. You ask your question and I’ll ask mine. A truthful answer for a truthful answer.”

Fox considered it for only a moment before he nodded. “How did you get injured?”

“One of the attacking villagers had better aim than I expected,” you said, smiling wryly. “After I pulled his vibroblade from my calf, I changed my previous opinion.”

“Do you have a bacta patch on it?” Fox asked. “If not, I can get you a fresh one before you go back to your transport.” 

“I already have one, thanks,” you assured him. “And I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to point out the fact that I let you ask two questions. Now it’s my turn.” 

Luckily for Fox, you really were in a good mood again. You only let him dangle in his discomfort for a few moments before you asked your question. “Do you always stop my transport on purpose?” 

“Yes.” 

For all that you had suspected that answer, hearing it directly was shocking. 

Instead of responding immediately, you paused for a moment to take a breath. If Fox was targeting you specifically, you had to believe there was a reason. And since you had already come this far, you may as well find out what that reason was. “Why?”

Fox looked reluctant and faintly uncomfortable. It was the look you imagined most of the troopers got when they were asked to do an unpleasant chore. But, to Fox’s credit, he gave the answer he had promised. 

“You’re not the typical mercenary.” You frowned, already opening your mouth, but he quickly went on. “Not that you don’t have your skills, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on the missions you’re a part of. That is, the Coruscant Guard has. There is a concern among the men that the Lament would leave you behind on a mission or allow an injury to go untreated.”

Well, it was an explanation, but you felt like it left you with more questions than answers. “Nice to know you guys worry about me, but I still don’t understand why you care.”

Fox shrugged, but the casual gesture was belied by the way his eyes were locked with yours. “You look at us like we’re human.” 

You frowned again. 

“And I… admire you,” Fox added quietly. “You have a code and you follow it. Unusual, especially for a mercenary.” 

“Again with the insults about my work.” Despite your heavy sigh, your tone was playful, and you knew he would take it as the tease that it was. “I look forward to seeing you too, Fox. That’s why I haven’t complained about being stopped every time we come back to Coruscant.”

He gave you a disbelieving look and you laughed. “Okay, fine. That’s why I don’t complain too much.”

Fox didn’t immediately reply. Normally, the two of you traded barbs and witty remarks back and forth so quickly that it would make an onlooker’s head spin. But you didn’t feel the need to say anything further and, apparently, neither did he. The room filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence, warm and cozy in a way that durasteel interrogation rooms rarely managed.  

“So you’ve decided against filing harassment charges?” Fox asked at length. 

“I have no intention of it,” you told him. “We made a deal. Guess that’s more evidence of my rare and admirable moral code…”

Fox rolled his eyes and you laughed. Before he could say something sarcastic, you added, “Besides, I think I would miss seeing you guys if you stopped checking up when I return from missions.”

“You would miss us?” You would have accused Fox of fishing for a compliment if he hadn’t sounded so charmingly stunned. 

“Of course,” you told him, narrowly stopping yourself from winking at him. He really was a very attractive man. “But I need to get back to the transport now. They wouldn’t leave without me, but one of the others might get a little grabby with the weapons I left behind. Especially since I have a sharp new vibroblade.”

Fox stood when you did, leading the way to the door with a suspicious look on his face. “This isn’t the vibroblade that…” He finished the question only with a vague gesture toward your injured leg.

“If someone stabs me with a knife, I get to keep it,” you told him seriously. “I believe that is common courtesy.”

“No new weapons on this next mission, then,” Fox said as he stood aside to let you pass. “No risks, no injuries, no killing.”

You shook your head in exasperation, already starting down the hall back to the Lament’s transport. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what being a mercenary is, Commander.”

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Author's Note - Happy Fox day! I knew I wanted to write something for 10/10, and big thanks to @nowait-whathappened for giving me this prompt! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

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