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ellecdc · 23 days

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MOTHERR

Happy Mother’s Day 💐🌷🤭

Anyways, the marauders brainrot continues….I know shocking 😮 , my obsession will never end at this point in time. Oh well, art is kicking my ass and I need something to bring back my spirt lol.

Sooo, could I perhaps, if possible, request a poly!wolfstar? In which;

There’s a party in the commons, after a quidditch match or sm (idk 😭?) and shy reader (preferably female) dresses in only Remus and Sirius’s clothes but somehow finds a way to make her own twist on it and she look beyond gorgeous, all decked out. She doesn’t tell Sirius or Remus and the two don’t realise how much of their clothes and ect. Untill the spot her at the party talking with the girls, and are both shunned because their shy girlfriend is all dressed up, showing skin, confident and all, and in their clothes only, not a single thing of hers.

-🍄

firstly, thank you so much for your mothers day wishes hahahaha I was spoiled for sure. secondly, thank you for your request!!

poly!wolfstar x shy!reader who surprises her boyfriends

CW: mention of drunk friends but no description of drinking?, sexual implications at the end but nothing described and SFW

Remus felt slightly guilty that he wasn’t downstairs to greet you when you arrived at the Gryffindor after party following their latest quidditch win.

The reason he wasn’t there wasn’t even a very good one; it was simply that Sirius always came back to the dorms to shower instead of showering in the team’s locker room and was always riled up (just the way he liked him).

In other words, it was selfish and self-serving.

Which was perhaps why he was currently rushing his boyfriend as he painstakingly styled his hair to look perfectly un-styled.

“Pads, you’ve flipped your hair seven times already, can we go?”

Sirius flipped his hair four more times as he let out a scoff. “Easy bubs; you know I like to be fashionably late.” He responded as he righted himself, shooting Remus a salacious wink in the reflection of the mirror on his dresser.

“We’re going to miss the party altogether at this rate.” Remus muttered petulantly.

Sirius let out a noncommittal hum as he pulled the collar of his buttoned-up shirt lower in order to show off the new love bite on his neck from Remus, and a few older ones on his chest that you had given him in hopes no one else would see them there.

How wrong you would be.

“I could think of other things we could do instead.” Sirius offered as he stalked towards the chair Remus was currently pouting in and straddled his lap.

“You were the one who wanted to attend the party.” Remus pressed as he allowed Sirius to press lingering kisses along his jawline. “Neither me or your girl were very keen.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy if we took a raincheck.” Sirius responded as he continued his assault down Remus’ neck.

“Perhaps if she wasn’t already downstairs.”

That seemed to snap Sirius out of his ministrations as he looked at Remus incredulously. “Then what in the buggering fuck are we doing up here? Merlin’s saggy balls, let’s go Moony.” He barked as he stood abruptly and yanked Remus’ arm, forcing him to follow.

Remus was only slightly embarrassed that he had to adjust his trousers as they exited the dorm room.

As Remus had predicted, the party was in full swing by the time they made it down to the common room.

Peter was maybe three sips of whatever was currently in his red solo cup away from spending the rest of the night hunched over the toilet bowl, James was already completely ignoring everyone else around him in favour of staring love-drunkenly at Lily as she spoke emphatically to Mary, Alice and Frank were snogging to near pornographic levels in the corner of the room, and Marlene was passed out in Dorcas’ lap as she conversed with…you.

Just when Remus was certain he couldn’t love you more, your sweet, timid, lovely self showed up to a Gryffindor party on behalf of your extroverted boyfriend after they took their sweet ass time to join you when both he and Remus knew quite well that there were probably several hundred other things you’d rather be doing

And not to mention when you show up looking like that.

“What is she wearing?” Sirius whispered on an exhale; his steps faltering as he took you in.

What were you wearing?

You looked to be wearing – “is that your button up shirt?” Sirius finished Remus’ thought.

And based on the fit and length, it appeared you were, in fact, wearing Remus’ dress shirt.

Though it was cinched at the waist by – “that’s your belt, Sirius.”

“That little minx is stealing our clothes, Moony.” Sirius laughed; equal parts exasperated and lovesick.

You chuckled at something Dorcas said before you turned your gaze to the rest of the party where you spotted your boyfriends.

“What are you wearing? Or should I ask who since you look like you ought to be on a red carpet or something?” Sirius asked in way of a greeting as he made for you, causing your shoulders to migrate upwards as you smiled timidly at them.

“Hi, dovey.” Remus greeted you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and shot a wink at Dorcas who was already looking at the two of them knowingly.

“Your girl looks smashing tonight, boys.” She commented; taking a sip of her drink from one hand as she used the other to pet Marlene’s hair.

You, for your part, turned to Dorcas with a look of unadulterated betrayal.

“She looks smashing, always, Meadows; but I have to agree that I like this look, baby girl. Stand up! Give us a spin.” Sirius said as he pulled you up by your hands.

“Sirius…” You chided pleaded quietly as your eyes nervously darted to Remus as if screaming ‘help’.

“Humour me.” Sirius pushed; twirling his finger in a circle to reiterate his earlier demand.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms protectively around your middle but acquiesced to his wishes.

After a few wolf whistles and an actual round of applause from Sirius, and ooh’s and aah’s from Remus, you turned back towards them and Remus could almost feel the heat radiating off your face.

“You played a good game, Siri.” You commented instead of hello, or thank you, or sod off you wankers, which made Remus all the more smitten with you.

“That’s old news, gorgeous.” Sirius dismissed quickly, eyes still darting over your form as if committing this sight to memory. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“I’d rather not.” You argued quickly.

“Tie breaker votes talking about you, sweetheart; sorry.” Remus responded, not particularly sorry at all if it meant he got to keep looking at you.

You harrumphed quietly and looked down at your converse which seemed to be the only article of clothing you were wearing that belonged to you. “You guys are being mean.”

Both boys immediately started cooing and apologising profusely; Remus pulling you protectively into his side as they fussed over you.

“Can’t believe I was upstairs all this time staring at Sirius when I could’ve been down here looking at you.” Remus commented quietly into your hair, but from Sirius’ indignant squawk, he was clearly overheard.

Your responding smile was well worth it though.

“Are these my earrings?” Sirius asked then, pushing hair behind your ear to expose the dangly star and moon earrings that Sirius had bought back in fifth year when he and Remus first started dating.

“I thought it looked good with the ‘fit. I had a vision.” You admitted; tone still shy but words far braver than Remus thinks he’s heard from you with this many people around.

“And you were right.” Remus agreed readily.

“The vision was great babes; it’s like I picked it out myself.” Sirius said with a wink. “The only thing better would have been if you showed up in only your knickers.” He stated with finality; seemingly proud of his proclamation and of his girlfriend.

Remus was expecting you to flush horribly at that as your eyes darted nervously around you.

Except you didn’t.

Instead, a mischievous grin spread across your lips as you looked up at the boys in front of you.

“They didn’t go with the vision.”

Both boys stared at you with varying levels of bemusement as Dorcas let out a snort behind you.

“What didn’t go with the vision?” Sirius accused quickly.

“Knickers, you tosser.” Dorcas answered from behind you.

Remus felt a blush of his own take over his face as he realised you had been waiting down here for your boyfriends looking like that without anything underneath your ensemble.

“Are you serious?” Sirius asked stupidly.

“No, you’re Sirius.” You giggled as if you made a truly funny joke, cluing Remus into the fact that you had these boys exactly where you wanted them.

In the palm of your hand.

“Better make a move quick, Black.” Marlene slurred as she rose from the dead sleep and blinked at the boys owlishly - one eye beginning to open before the other had even shut. “Otherwise we w- we will.”

Remus barked a laugh as Dorcas lovingly rolled her eyes and tried to tame Marlene’s now unruly bedhead, but Sirius appeared to take the threat earnestly as he quickly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your surprised squeak and subsequent protests as he raced up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

“Quickly now, Moony.” Sirius called as he took care to cover your arse with one of his hands lest your ‘Remus’-shirt-turned-dress’ were to ride up. “Can’t believe I let you waste all that time getting ready when our beautiful, gorgeous, lovely girl was waiting for us.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he followed the sounds of Sirius’ faux chiding and your squealing laughter, wondering if Sirius’ diligent eleven flips of his hair was worth attending a party for four and a half minutes.

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merbear25 · 4 months

Text

Enjoying the little things

There's never a dull moment when you're with him even on days that are calmer than others. On days like these, small flickers of his inner thoughts give you a deeper understanding of him.

Zoro, Mihawk, Sanji, Law

CW: SFW, gn!reader, established relationship, headcanons + drabbles.

Zoro: training in the early morning, the brisk breeze, a chill in the air. He enjoys waking up and being productive when the rest are still sound asleep. It gives him the feeling of having the upper hand. When there's a chill in the air, it hitches his breath, reminding him to maintain his breath control. The brisk breeze feels nice against his skin as he's training, acting like a natural cooling system.

You asked to accompany him on one of his early training sesssions, of course, already knowing you'd have to wake up before the crack of dawn. He agreed to let you tag along but added that he didn't want to hear any complaining about how early it'd be or tired you'd feel. Crossing your heart, you gave him your word that you'd be on your best behavior.

Waking up the next day was showing to be difficult though, while you weren't, and would never be, a morning person. Despite your sluggish steps getting out of bed, you put on a good face when you noticed Zoro, who was already geared up to set out for the day.

Taking a double take, your body language was hinting to him that you were probably going to be a thorn in his side this morning. Paying it no mind, he gestured for you to come to the upper deck of the Sunny. You simply nodded while trying to hide the regret on your face.

However, you would have never guessd how grateful you would be to see him with the soft glow of the morning sun speckling his sunkissed body. After each set, his usually furrowed brow was instead eased, and his walls appeared to lower to the gentle breeze of the ocean air.

"You're staring at me," his even tone broke the silence of the new day. "Why?" You didn't have much of a response so blurted out the first thing that came to mind that being that he looked unbelievably handsome. In saying this, you couldn't have predicted any other reaction out of him—he went rimson. Averting his eyes from the sudden shock of your blaten honesty, he could barely utter a 'thanks' before continuing his regime.

Mihawk: the crackling of a fire, sunsets, clear nights. He likes being under the stars and how they, as well as the moon light his way. Sunsets bring a peaceful end to the day, covering the sky and illuminating rooms with its soft color. The fire supplies warmth, not just with heat, but also in atmosphere. The crackling brings a sense of liveliness to the cold interior of the castle.

Sitting in the study together was one of your favorite ways to spend time with him. It was almost routine at this point to end the day by joining him infront of the fireplace, each of you curled up with your own book. Even though the castle was built from cold bricks and stone, the fireplaces throughout it gifted the both of you with comfort.

The natural light of the day was dimming to pinks and oranges, letting the fire become more prominent within the room. Embers from tonight's flames were rather lively: the wood splintered and cracked. Feeling the roasted firewood on your person, you affectionately shifted your gaze to him.

His intense stare had been softened by its brilliancy; exhailing, the moon's illuminating beams entranced him next. He must have known you were watching him, though he refrained from calling attention to it. While your eyes kept on him, you saw slight alterations in his stoic stature: his lips twitched at the corners, his eyelids lifted and lowered more slowly, and his chest rose and fell at a much steadier pace, as if he was admiring something in the distance, just outside the window.

When he finally decided to acknowledge your gaze, you didn't shy away from it, and he didn't ask why you were watching him. Instead, you let the tender love you had for him be expressed through a knowing smile. The corners of his mouth were faintly tugged, almost resembling one in return.

Sanji: sunrises, the smell of coffee and tea, sharing a meal. The shades of orange, pink, and purple remind him of the love and passion he has always had for his friends and dreams. The smell of coffee and tea awaken his senses, sharing a meal gives him a sense of gratitude that he has people to eat around the table with.

Sanji was one of the first of the crew to wake up, afterall, he was in charge of feeding everyone. However, you were there to greet him in the kitchen this morning. Having already started the coffee, you thoughtfully asked how he'd like it. Seeing you this early was a lovely surprise.

He'd tried insisting on you letting him prepare the drinks, but you reassured him that you could manage making the coffee just fine. Upon joining him at the table, you noticed a sincerity to him that you hadn't come across before. With the warmth of dawn peaking in through the window, you wondered if he'd always had this side to him that perhaps you overlooked. Either way, you couldn't help returning his peaceful gaze.

Reaching out to hold your hand, he made sure to thank you. To you the gesture of making coffee was so minute, although it seemed from his appreciation, that it really is the thought that counts. Returning his love with a light squeeze of his hand, he scanned the slight waves of the sea. The tones of pink and orange were now mixing into purple.

"Aren't sunrises beautiful?" he asked in a rosey tone. Before agreeing with him, you admired the man, his eyes being filled with hope and joy. You added that they're much more beautiful when enjoying them with someone you care about. Turning to you, he was grateful for having shared this morning with you.

Law: the creaking of branches, rustling of leaves, crickets chirping. These serve as a reminder of the different forms of life that make up our world. Nature is a majestic force, and although it can be frightening at times, it means he's never truely alone. There is a sort of comfort in knowing this.

The day had shown to be a taxing one. Having accomplished far less than he'd wanted to, he excused himself to his study to reevaluate his approach. The Polar Tang was to stay docked at the island's port until the crew was able to gather the necessary items and information they'd originally set out for, which meant being tied to an island as breathtaking as this one until further notice.

There was a steady wind that night: the branches of the surrounding trees were swaying, their leaves accompanying them in rustling. Peace and tranquilty were gradually replacing the qualms of the disappointing day. Looking around, you just came to the realization that you hadn't seen Law since reboarding the submarine.

Taking it upon yourself to check up on the most likely sulking captain, you began making your way to where he said he'd be. Upon reaching it, however, you were met with a vacant room. Running through all of the other locations he could be, you settled on checking on deck again.

Low and behold, there he was, seemingly brooding against the railing. When you approached him, you noticed that his eyes were shut, and although his eye brows weren't eased, his breaths were drawn out in an unagitated manner. It was then that your ears caught on to the distant sound of chirping from crickets. Even with the rustling of the leaves and creaking of the branches, the song of those insects could still be heard.

He opened one eye to measure you up, but closed it again when you placed your hands on the railing, looking out dreamily at the darkened forest. The energy being released from Law was the exact opposite of earlier. Without having to say anything, you understood that there was a comfort he found in nature. You didn't want to ruin his rarely peaceful demeanour, so you just let yourself enjoy the scenery with him in silence.

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startrekbookshop · 4 months

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Is there anyhting more heartbreaking than Spocks dying scene in Wrath of Khan?

YEP!

Welcome to the "lets fuck u up more than u already were" post

Star Trek: The Original Series - 007 - The Wrath of Khan by Vonda N. Mcintyre

McCoy cried: "No human can tolerate the radiation in there!"

"But Doctor,"

Spock said, feeling a certain terribly un-Vulcan affection for the man who opposed him,

"you yourself are fond of pointing out that I am not human."

McCoy: "You can't go in there, Spock!"

Spock smiled at Dr. McCoy. He was so completely and comfortingly predictable. Spock could go through their conversation in his mind and know everything the doctor would say, everything he himself would reply. The result was the same.

After Spock nervpinches Bones, he "gently" lowers him to the deck, and tells him:

Spock: You have been a worthy opponent and friend

McCoy seriously does everything in his powers to stop Spock, knowing damn right that Spock is incredibly strong.

These three man belong together, and when one has been separated, its hard for the other two to go on without the third. Kirk is seriously hit by Spocks death, he lost one of his dearest friends, same McCoy. But even thought that you would say that Kirk and McCoy are best friends, they don´t go and share their pain together. They each keeps it for himself.

To the picture above:

When Kirk reaches for Spock, and touches the glass, to shield away the light and to see Spock. He does not care for the good of the many (he no longer belives in it). But he wants to touch Spock:

" as if somehow he could touch Spock´s mind through the glass, take some of his pain upon himself, give hsi friend some of his own strenght, But he could not even touch him"

I am not crying you are.

This is a thing Spock did for Kirk in the worst moments of his pain. He erased his memories to help him from sadness, but he also gave him strenght, even thought he himself was hurt (The Black Fire). Spock took extreme care for his capitain, and now Kirk could not help him back, and that shatterd him.

Spock sees Kirk as the one and only capitain of the Enterprise, as his friend, a man who save him and a T´hyla.

Mabye even Spock does not give a shit about "The good of the many". Mabye he just wants to save his T´hyla and his friend, but says its for the good of the many, to aflict less pain on them than needed.

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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Can you write something with gale and Maureen? Like him taking care of her when she’s sick? Or trying to help her fall asleep?

Love this request doll, thank you. I’ve gotten quite a few requests asking for a fic of him taking care of her when she’s sick/cold, etc, and while I’ll certainly write another corresponding with those, I felt like yours gave me a chance to establish a little chronology of his doting on her. Which leads us to—helping her fall asleep on the:

First Night

It had been lights out for over an hour now, and still, Gale could sense the shifting restless around him. As the men’s initial post-battle fatigue had lessened and the dull predictability of one’s camp days settled in, the nights became longer, less restful and more of a routine than a respite. They could lay in their beds most the day or else walk and sit and lay somewhere else, there was no exhausted relief to be found climbing into a bunk. Gale missed the taxing demand for rest that came with a regimented military life. He knew he wasn’t alone in it.

Now there was the invigorating addition of the presence of the women at camp, and like kids at a sleepover -or so Gale heard sleepovers were like that, he’d never been to one- all rooms were filled with restless chit chat and lack of calm. He’d had to go along the hall of his integrated combine before lights out to warn everyone to shush it.

At least they were amalgamating well.

There was so much to catch up on by each crew and any new bit of information a new prisoner carried in was worth more than Broadway tickets back home, added to that was the old natural way of men not knowing when to shut the hell up around the fairer sex.

So Gale had knocked on doors and doused lightbulbs like the bucket of cold water that he was, and then returned to his own bunk in the subsequent quiet, only to cave and allow John Brady thirty more minutes of risky light use to keep mending -and watch his tolerably death-like and unconscious sister as she shallowly breathed on a lower bunk.

Gale had once hauled himself up and out of his second tier bunk opposite her to put his hand in front of Ida’s lips, she had gotten so still for a bit. “You should sleep by her.” he told Brady, recalling times his father’s warmth had been the only thing to keep him alive some nights in the park. He was rather certain Johnny meant to do it anyway, but he wasn’t a readable fella and his curt nod was all Gale got along with the ever faithful, “yes sir.”

When Gale had finally demanded they cut the bulb, he watched as Brady carefully climbed in and lay behind Ida without disturbing her, two lanky, stacked sardines with plenty of room and not enough fat on either of them to keep a water bottle thawed in this weather. Gale shrugged and flicked the light -family genes couldn’t be helped.

What could be helped was Maureen’s dripping hair. After the showers she had sat herself down at the table and demanded they deal her a hand of cards, burnt auburn hair dripping ice water down the back of her borrowed shirt.

Her shivers rattled her so badly she had dropped her cards multiple times, made worse by her mangled hands. They’d paused the game to have Hambone and Tallulah come in and wrench her middle and fourth fingers straight. Hamilton swore he had experience from his own injuries and T. Smith had grown up on a farm, excellent referrals both. The ordeal could’ve been worse, Gale supposed.

Benny had gagged while watching it, Gale had wanted to while holding her wrist down, Hambone had growled “fuck” more times than John had ever heard him during a mission and Ida didn’t even wake from Maureen’s yells -so out of it was she on the bunk she’d wobbled into and fallen asleep on.

Now Maureen sat stubbornly at the table in the dark, still consulting her deck of cards as if she could discern a diamond from a spade.

“Bed.” Gale told her despite her petulance, and the boys were good enough not to encourage her rebellion for once, taking themselves to their own bunks with little fanfare, “Don’t wanna get us in trouble for lights on your first night do ya? Make Ida stand out in the cold for inspections? Good, because I don’t want you out there with that hair.”

“It’s taking forever to dry and I don’t want to get my pillow wet.” Maureen protested.

“You can’t just sit here in the dark.” he muttered.

“Johnny would’ve.” she hit back. Gale wasn’t sure since when John Brady had been the yardstick by which Maureen measured human behavior, but it had been about as long as Gale knew her.

“Yeah but now Johnny’s in bed like a good boy.” Gale observed.

He heard someone titter and if he had to throw a dart at the offender in the gray dark it would be aimed towards Demarco’s bunk. “Johnny hasn’t got my hair. Ida either…anymore.” she added with childlike insensitivity.

“You should braid it.” Demarco’s voice suggested from the dark of his bunk.

“Hands can’t do squat.” Maureen was starting to sound offended by how often they forgot about her hands. She’d dropped her cards as often from their gnarled swelling as from her shivers, and every time one of the guys tried to ignore it or give a kinder explanation she would hold them up like she wanted them to recall what she was working with. Most of the fellas would’ve rather looked into hell’s portal than keep contemplating her hands or what they meant.

“Lemme braid your hair.” Gale told her, he didn’t ask and he didn’t thank Benny for the suggestion.

Maureen scoffed as he scooped up the frigid, wet strands from her shoulders and began to divide them in his hands. “Like you know how.”

“I do.” he patiently insisted after a few moments of the more convincing argument of his actually braiding it.

“Who else have you done this for? Who taught you?” Maureen’s jealousy was palpable to everyone and even Brady snickered softly at her this time.

“Horses, Maureen. My uncle had horses.”

Maureen didn’t reply to that, in fact, besides brawling japes during cards and her arguments against bedtime,

she hadn’t said much since coming back from the showers. She was cold to the touch when Gale finished his braid and squeezed the last bit of wet he could from the woven rope and then he bodily deposited her in her bunk. An adjacent one to his, on the same level, their heads were nearly beside each other’s in the cramped stack.

And now, an hour afterwards, everyone was still tossing in the dark except for Ida and her brother, and Gale had no peace with Maureen’s chattering teeth just a few inches away and her crushed hands dancing in front of his eyes everytime he closed them.

He thought of a lot of things to whisper to her, questions, comforts, even jokes. They never got out of his tightening throat as sixty minutes ticked by and he kept staring up at the slats of the bunk above him like that would keep the flashing image of her hands away. Suddenly the chatter of teeth stopped and he felt himself begin to relax in turn, hopeful she’d drifted off.

The unmistakable sound of a sob followed shortly after and it messed with the rhythm of his heart worse than jumping from his spiraling plane had.

“Maureen?” he questioned softly, as if there could be any doubt.

The sobs only gained frequency and vigor. Gale rolled himself over on his belly, and without thinking it through for once, impulsively threaded his arm through the divide to her bunk, laying his arm along her pillow and cupping the cheek closest to him. The humid blast of her breath against his palm tore at him and he thumbed over her wobbling lips. “Maureen,” he begged again, hoarse from his damn throat and in an effort to be quiet, “what- what is it?”

What can I do?—is what he meant.

“Having a cry Cleven.” She informed him angrily and without discretion in her volume except for what her sniffles required, “Can’t a gal have a well earned cry? Told you I wouldn’t manage to sleep.”

Ah, so the cry was his fault. Gale sighed and couldn’t help his sideways glance at Ida’s bunk. Not that he wanted such unnatural, deathly peace for Maureen. It would scare the fuck out of Gale, just as it was scaring the fuck outta Johnny who Gale knew was owl eyed awake right across from him and his now sobbing bombardier.

“I’m sorry.” Gale offered her impotently, childish habits coming to the fore in his helplessness, -how sorry he’d been time and again growing up, sorry for wall street crashing and Hoover having won that last time and the fact there weren’t any more quarters left for a soda and that the malnourished dog lost that one race and being sorry, so goddamn sorry all the damn time just so his father would finally absolve him with, “it’s ok, son” in return.

“And now my pillow’s wet!” -Maureen never absolved him of shit, she piled on and somehow Gale found himself devoted to that honest cruelty too, in a more mature, twisted, fucked sorta way. “I told you my pillow would get wet and I’d be cold!”

“You can have mine.” he tried.

“Oh yeah, and get it wet too.” her anger huffed out into his palm and it made him feel funny, like he was feeling her breath all along him, her emotion too, her outright disapproval of him. It always made him feel funny, feel desperate without feeling wrong or sorry. He’d never taken the fall for something that wasn’t his to own up to, not since he became a man. Not until her. He felt himself swelling against the mattress and wanted to say sorry for that, too.

—can’t help it around you.

He’d taken up excuse making as well since her, it proved so damn effective. Way more than his apologies.

“I could use cooling down.” he realized aloud and tugged her damp pillow out from under her head without warning, “Don’t fuckin’ test me Kendeigh, not tonight.” he warned at her stiff neck as he used her braid to lift her head and slide his under her head.

He settled his confiscated pillow closer to hers, his cheek pressed to her tears and shower wet, their heads practically aligned and in the dim light he could make out the curve of her nose. Such a pretty nose, he’d been enchanted with it from the minute she cocked her head at him in the glass nose of Our Baby.

Maureen had stopped crying. Her arm swung above her head and slithered under his blankets until she’d grabbed hold of what she wanted, bringing his hand up by the wrist until it was cupping her cheek again. She nuzzled her face into it and kissed his palm, the glitter of her eyes discernible between his fingers to the scrutiny of a lover as enamored as Gale.

“Sorry.” she whispered at long last into his palm and he shuddered.

“Don’t be sorry.” he commanded.

“I feel better.” she said.

“Good.”

Her hand darted out the top of her blanket and cupped his cheek, mirroring him. She thumbed at the smooth skin of his face with a swollen thumb until she found his poorly healed scar. “Wanna give it a try?” she asked. “We swapped pillows, it’s wet anyway, no one would know.”

“I don’t need a cry.” he declined gently.

“Ooh, does my Major need other things?” Maureen’s voice had gone saucy -and thankfully hushed- despite the stuffed up quality of her nose but the thought of her hands curdled his reaction to the tease immediately.

“No.” he breathed, hating the crowded room and the faux intimacy of this moment. Maureen was always more immune to intrusion but he couldn’t pretend to match her. “I just need you safe.” he begged, for if her ordeal had ended at her arrival here, he felt his had just begun.

The thumb stroking Gale’s cheek dipped lower until it was tracing his upper lip, slipping to the crease of his mouth, gently parting his plush lips until she had her finger past them, resting on his teeth. “I’m with you.” Maureen muttered, “Of course I’ll be safe.”

Gale closed his mouth around her, tongue lathing at the pad of her thumb, cheeks hollowed in an innate impulse for suction. Maureen’s presence made him feel odd, always had. Her nose came to rest against his and that was the last he recalled of the night, the gusts of her breath evening out against his face, the weight of her thumb on his tongue, the drowsy and unheeded regret that he had already compromised so far on their first night.

When he was startled awake next morning by a shake to the shoulder, mouth dry and her thumb still between his teeth, Cleven could only be grateful it was by Brady and unseen by the rest of the still sleeping men. The fact Maureen seemed to have been already awake and merely staring at him while he slept was another unsettling matter. As were the deep circles under Brady’s soft eyes: the kid looked like he hadn’t slept a wink and Gale wondered briefly how long his poor subordinate had stared at his bunk and hoped the thumb would fall out before rousing his superior. Or if Maureen had made eye contact during it. Oh for God’s sake...

Obviously Brady’s patience had run out with a hard shake, because -“It’s Ida, she won’t fuckin’ respond but she’s bowin’ up till I think her neck might snap.”

Well that got Gale tumbling out of bed.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #gale cleven #gale cleven x oc #Gale x Maureen #those who can #Intergrated au #mota au #mota oc

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley is a prankster, and his friends are more than happy to help.

contents: fluff, bradley sluts out the hard deck as always, jake is a drunk kisser, javy's broke, and natasha should spit on me

Bradley's into pranks. Little ones, big ones, funny ones, slightly mean ones, they're his thing. Of course, the mean ones are never directed at you. He dips his toe in that pool tonight, though, when he comes home from a night of drinking with lipstick on his neck.

It's a perfect kiss mark. Right under his ear, the spot you kiss whenever he's doing the dishes and you sneak up behind him. Your spot.

"Hey, babe," He drawls, beer heavy on his voice as he tosses his jacket haphazardly over the chair. The collar of it had partially tucked away the kiss mark, but now it's on full display, a shocking coral color that you've only ever seen- wait.

He's waiting for you to say something, he's standing with it clearly on display. Your eyes narrow at the mark, noticing the divots of the lips that had pressed to his throat and the oddly smeared patch at the left corner.

Javy had nicked his lower lip three days ago on the mouth of a can.

"You're funny," You muse, hands braced on your hips, "You made Javy put Penny's lipstick on and kiss your neck, but I'm the butt of this joke?"

"How'd you know?" He yelps, mouth falling open, aghast.

"The cut from his drink," You raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, "Plus, Penny's the only person I know who can pull off that shade. And I know she didn't do that."

Bradley bites back a grimace at the image, kicking his shoes off in the doorway.

"You're no fun to prank anymore," He gripes, "You always see them coming!"

"Yeah, that's because you're predictable! I know you'd never let another woman kiss you at a bar. And even if you-" Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you raise the accompanying watch on your wrist to peer at the message, "Oh my god, it's a photo."

Javy: I stole your man tonight, and looked damn good doing it.

The picture beneath the message is one that Bradley sends to a printers' the very next day, and now sits proudly in a frame on his nightstand. Javy's eyes are scrunched shut as he smashes his lips into Bradley's neck, and your husband's shit-eating grin nearly results in beer seeping out between his teeth as he knocks back his bottle, exposing Javy's canvas. Bob is still holding the tube of lipstick Penny had lent them, and Mickey is trying to fend a similarly-made-up, absolutely hammered Jake off from aiming for his cheek.

Penny seems less-than-amused about her lipstick, but Maverick's caught taking his own picture that he pins to his pegboard among other, perhaps more flattering pictures of Bradley.

"So, not Phoenix?" You quirk a brow, "Didn't she have her own gloss or something?"

"She told me she'd rip my balls off if I asked her to kiss my neck," Bradley shrugs, "Javy said he'd do it for two bucks."

He stops in his tracks as he makes for the kitchen, a smirk eating away at his face as he looks over his shoulder at you. He peels back the muscle tee he'd been wearing, showcasing an impressively bright kiss mark against the toned expanse of his back, "Jake did it for free, though."

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