#oc: captain flare

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Yeeeeeeess

Nav: 👗🌼💌🦸‍♀️🥘🍁

And for a little treat:

Clone Boys: 👀

I have asked so much but I need to knooowwww

Take your time, Ily 🌙🔮

ahhh yessss thank you so much, Hex, for asking all of these wonderful questions. answers below the cut because this got away from me 😂😅

Nav:

👗 Describe their style

when they worked on Coruscant before joining the GAR, they 100% rocked the thrifted light academia aesthetic, but it never fully fit their personality.

on the run from the Empire, and just in everyday life, they are much more prone to utilitarian, functional garments in neutral tones. sleeveless tunic belted over utility pants, with steel-toed boots and their trusty backpack. they steal one of Hunter's old bandanas and tie it around their bicep; Hunter loves it. and of course once they settle on Pabu, they start wearing more tank tops and shorts, soft-bottom shoes, a shark-tooth necklace that Omega crafts.

used to have long hair, but cut it really short when they joined the GAR and just never grew it out again.

they also have a single tattoo, a complementary pair to one that Arien had, on their ribs: a deadly cactus flower native to Iridonia. (Arien's was a sketch of Umate, the mountain peak on Coruscant.)

🌼 Assign them an aesthetic

alright take all of the above and now consider: space grunge

💌 How would they react to a love letter?

sorry my first thought here is the fact that Hunter would write said love letter and now I've made myself squee

anyways. on topic. I think the circumstance would be something like, Hunter writes a letter for Nav and leaves it for them to find somewhere, so it's a surprise. like, at the bottom of their pack (because we all know how often Nav cleans that out... 👀). & then reading it they'd need to sit in case they swoon, the paper held in one hand while the other is clasped over their mouth to hide their smile. definitely blushes. depending on how sappy Hunter got while writing, Nav may or may not tear up.

& then immediately tackle Hunter into a giant hug and smother him with kisses.

🦸‍♀️ What would they dress as for Halloween?

Nav would totally talk Hunter into couples' costumes--and of course that means Omega's costume is also themed, which probably means everyone else's as well. the squad as bowling pins and Omega as a bowling ball?

but for one year, Hunter and Nav make sure that their costumes match each other's and only each other's. Hunter as a werewolf and Nav as a werewolf hunter 👀

🥘 Favorite food?

this depends. if we're talking like, most nostalgic, then it's definitely the beef stew and crusty bread that the matron of the orphanage made on a regular basis. a whole big vat of the stew and the huge ovens made the entire building always smell so good.

but now as an adult, their favorite is the salad that Shep taught them to make on Pabu. starfruit and berries, nuts, crumbly cheese, and a decadent oil-based dressing. filling, sweet, and savory all in one.

that, or Hunter's meat pies. Hunter totally learns that he loves to cook once they all settle down on Pabu.

🍁 Their favorite season and why?

alright hc time: Coruscant doesn't have seasons, & Pabu basically has 2: hot and hotter. Iridonia is probably the same, though it gets chilly at night. therefore, Rintonne is the one planet that Nav has been to relatively frequently enough to experience four seasons. their favorite is by far autumn, with spring coming in second. there's something about transitory periods, life in flux, that just Hits Different for Nav. spring is in second place because allergies lmao.

Clone boys:

👀 How do they look like? Give an overall description of them

ohohoho strap in, here we go

387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army

Commander Creed. he presents a very stern, disciplined facade that intimidates shinies and civvies alike, but in reality he's very soft and compassionate. it's what makes him such a strong leader. he's unafraid to voice his opinion when he believes his Jedi General is making a foolish or wrong move, but is humble enough to admit when he's wrong. well-trimmed beard and mustache, undercut with a mop of dark curls. there's a scar from an errant blaster bolt during commando training, that streaks down the left side of his face. he has a tattoo under his left pec that reads 'for the people' in blocky Basic letting--that is his creed. he has a second tattoo on his right hip of his battalion's mascot (pls don't ask me what this is, idk yet).

Captain Static, Shatter Company. earned his name because when he was a cadet, he always pretended to talk on the radios with sound effects (*cksh* come in, command, *cksh*). he's a little bit naive, but very loyal and values intelligence. he often volunteers his company for recon missions, having trained them specially to communicate effectively. he's clean-shaven, with a stud nose piercing and regulation haircut.

Captain Flare, Phoenix Company. loves, loves, loves flare guns and will pout (mostly in jest these days) if he doesn't get the chance to pop one off at least once during a campaign. he's loud and unapologetic, a little cocky, but he does genuinely mean well and respects the hell out of anyone who can outwit his twin, Seg. with a permanent five o'clock shadow, brilliant white teeth, and that one perfect curl that always rests so nicely on his forehead, he's hot and he kriffin' knows it.

Captain Seg, Flare's twin, commanding officer of Angel Company. Seg is a little bit more withdrawn and quiet than Flare, but no less quick-witted--and quick-tempered. he often waits for an opening in his enemy's forces rather than making an opening himself (he leaves that to Shatter & Phoenix Companies). this is both in terms of battle tactics and verbal sparring. often known for silently observing conversations or debates, and drops one-line zingers that leave the entire table slack-jawed and/or in uproarious laughter. he's the most "reg" looking of the captains, but don't let that fool you.

Captain Drifter, of Hollow Company. Drifter is an old grumpy man at heart, rather pessimistic, but can be charming and suave when the occasion arises. something of a social chameleon, often chosen for diplomatic missions alongside the General. he's sarcastic but genuine, a balance he learned early on how to maintain, and it's gotten him into trouble as much as out of it. he has ear piercings, a septum ring, and a huge geometric tattoo sleeve on his right leg; and sometimes lets his hair grow out to about shoulder length.

Bonus boys! Hotshot and Screwball, ARC troopers, who featured briefly in Second Chances. Hotshot has a buzzcut and goatee, vitiligo, a rough hand-drawn star tattoo beneath his left eye, and a scar across the bridge of his nose. Screwball has long hair that he keeps tied back in a low bun, and a scar along the right side of his face. both Hotshot and Screwball are pranksters (and don't get me started on when they have shore leave with Screwball's twin, Misfit), but very, very good at their jobs. they specialize in destabilizing the enemy from behind enemy lines, often using their chaotic impulses to their advantage.

anyways thanks again so much, Hex, for letting me ramble about my blorbos 💖💖

[shsl-gay-nurse]

//putting this in the seamoon tag becuase I have a point I wanna make sea fairy and moonlight cookie are NOT canonically lesbians, nor are they canonically dating. coding does not mean cannon.  your headcannons are NOT cannon others are MORE THEN ALLOWED to have a different headcannon then you and ship sea fairy/moonlight with whoever they want. it is NOT homophobic to headcannon the cookie with NO CANNON SEXUALITY as something other then gay

theres more sexuality's then gay and straight. plenty more, pull your heads out of your asses

further more, something else i’d like to state yes, devsisters has gone on multiple times to imply moonlight and sea fairy have a deep relationship with eachother, however i’d like to make it known platonic relationships can be just as deep as romantic ones

stop being entitled and accusing others of homophobia/telling them to fucking die over fucking fictional cookies. y’all need therapy -and before anyone calls me homophobic, im litterly a fucking lesbian lmfao

edit: becuase im seeing a lot of people missing my point, I don’t care why you think seamoon is cannon. nor do I care why you ship it. hell I ship seamoon, I think its a cute ship

this post isn't really about that, its about the fact that, there is no proof that ether sea fairy or moonlight are LESBIANS, yes theirs a lot of coding to suggest they like woman, but I will remind you all, BISEXUALS AND PANSESUALS ARE A THING, along with HUNDREDS of other orientations in the mix. and again, you do not get a say in how platonic relationships show affection. platonic partners are a thing, learn what QPP’S are for fucks sake NOT ONLY THAT, friends can call eachother “dearest” “beloved” or say “I love you”.  like, me and my irl friends used to kiss sometimes just cuz listen. I WANT more lesbian representation in media, I would kill someone for LGBTQ+ rep in shows I like. HOWEVER, it dosen’t matter how oppressed lesbians are telling others to die over fictional baked goods isen’t gonna fix the issue and thats my point. I don’t care about the seamoon ship itself, I care about us not being complete toxic basterds to each other 

[water-mellie-seeds]

Here it is!

[makeartnotfriends23]

🧩🛝 Did you ever play Pooka Playground? The site was all the rage in the early 2010s with kids flocking to the site in droves to play fun mini games and learn new things. However one day it just disappeared with no one knowing why. 🎪🧩

Welcome to Pooka Playground a series I’m planning on making in the future. It’s going to be a kind of arg so kind of exciting I guess

[sinsinsininning]

A little bit softer

Chapter 2.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: depictions of DV, descriptions of medical terms and procedures, not as smutty

A/N: I don’t know why but l always have to make my reader inserts or OCs a medic in some way……It’s probably bc I’m a vet tech.

~~~~~~

Kid felt… guilty, which wasn’t a normal thing for him. Suspecting you were scared of him was one thing. But knowing you were scared of him was another entirely.

He wanted to shake himself some days, you were just a rookie. Not his lover. Not his partner. He didn’t owe you anything. But then he’d ruin his own pep talk by thinking of you and your face.

After your conversation with Heat, Kid walked on eggshells around you. The entire crew was still trying their damnedest to meddle with him, so encounters with you had ramped up a lot. You both still did your best to avoid eye contact or speak to him. But it was clearly starting to wear on the crew’s patience.

“You need to handle your shit.” Killer said to him one day in his workshop. Kid couldn’t even pretend not to know what he was on about.

“You need to fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his shoulders shake.

“Just talk with her, you never know, maybe she likes you as well.”

Kid burst out in hysterical laughter, needing a few moments to catch his breath.

“She’s terrified of me Killer,” He coughed. “She thinks I’m gonna hit her or something. I heard her telling Heat.” Killer cocked his head, thinking.

“All the more reason to clear the air. What’s more is I can’t have the crew keep trying to pair the two of you up, it’s getting in the way of their tasks.” Kid fixed him with a glare.

“Newsflash, asshole! You were the one who started that shit!” He turned back to his table. “Besides the fuck am I gonna say to make her feel better? Huh?”

“That’s true, you’re not good with words.” Killer nodded and began approaching him. “You’ll just have to use your actions.” Kid laughed.

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna do that?” He asked sarcastically before a sharp pain flared in his right arm. “Ow what the fuck?!”

Killer had cut his arm, a deep laceration at least 5 inches long. The masked man shrugged at his shouting.

“She’s in the med bay, go up there, tell her you got cut while working. Ask her to patch you up.”

“Fuck you this stings!” Kid pressed a used rag to his arm. “I’ll fucking stab you.”

“She won’t be there much longer. Tell her you can’t find me and you can’t stitch yourself with one hand.” Killer took that moment leave, Kid stood there fuming for a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay down here and fix it later, just to piss Killer off.

But a stronger part of him wanted to see you, hopefully you wouldn’t run or hide. He made his way slowly to the med bay, almost hoping you’d be gone. As he entered he saw how unlucky he was.

You had your back to him, wiping down the machines that sterilized the suturing materials and other rudimentary instruments. He coughed to get your attention, keeping his injured arm hidden behind the doorframe.

“Hip are you don- oh!” He hated how tense you became, you soft stomach clenching in worry. “Sorry captain, I thought Hip was done with the mop. What can I do for you?” He showed you his arm and felt a small bit better as you gasped with worry.

The rag he’s used to staunch the bleeding made it look worse than it was, but it had dried a little and was now stuck to his skin. You motioned for him to sit on the chair by the table.

“How’d that happen?” You asked, trying to gently peel the rag off.

“Was working and it just kinda happened.” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lie to you. “Don’t know where Killer is and I can’t sew with only one hand.” Still not lies technically.

“Gotcha.” You’re all business and he feels a little flush at the sight of you zipping around the room gathering materials. “Well it’s not too bad, really deep though. I’ll numb it, suture it really quick and you should be on your way.” Any trace of fear or anxiety was gone, your posture alert but relaxed, you soft face was focused.

“Take your time.” Kid drawled, enjoying the view, didn’t hurt that your ass looked good as you bent over to grab something under the desk. Your ass always looked good he decided. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” You return with a small syringe, some type of numbing drug he assumed. “You’re the captain, you probably got plenty of stuff to be doing.”

He didn’t respond, the injection you gave him stung so he had to bite back his swears about it. Neither of you spoke as you worked. You had to stand pretty close to place the sutures, your hands cold but soft as you touched him.

You shivered at one point and Kid realized, horrifically, that he’d leaned to far forward to watch your hands. You glanced up at him, caught his gaze and shuffled a bit further back. He wanted to growl as he saw how tense you’d gotten, your soft apology only making him more frustrated.

You were halfway done and he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So.” You tensed again, he could see it in your neck especially. “I never did ask… who was your old captain?” You jabbed the needle a bit harder at the question, obviously not on purpose as you profusely apologized. He ignored and continued to stare until you answered.

“His- um. His name is um… It’s Badger. Captain Badger.” You try to focus once more.

“How long did you sail with him?”

“2 years.”

“How big was the crew?”

“About 15.”

“Where’d you sail?”

“West Blue.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Um.” You were almost shaking, he almost hesitated.

“Why’d you leave his crew?”

“What does it matter?” Oh that was a response, he grinned, anger was better than fear. At least in his book.

“Answer the question. It’s important for me to know.”

“You never needed to know before. Why now?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” He leans forward more, meeting your heated glare as you tied the final knot. “You’ve got some peculiar habits, I’d like to know more about that.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

He nodded.

“Like on deck or like…. In my room?”

“Not like that you pervert!” He can’t help but shout, you don’t flinch though. A small grin on your face as you successfully get him off the topic.

“So not my room or the showers? Just to clarify.” He knows he’s blushing but he still growls and stands to his full height. You step back but he follows you, a look of fear in your eyes takes over the glee. But he can’t stop himself from continuing.

“You’re clever, but I still need an answer.” He crowds your space, placing both hands on the counter behind you, caging your body with his. He leans forward, letting his breath fan over your ear. “Why did you leave?”

You stay silent, face red and a little sweaty, he pulls back just enough to admire the sight. He can’t make a reassuring face to save his life, but he tries as tears fill up your eyes. Still, he can’t stop, he needs this. You need this.

“If you are unhappy with my performance or skills, tell me and I will fix them. I haven’t brought any bad habits on board. I assure you.” You finally answer, your words felt warm against his face, he grinned some more.

“Uh-uh you see, one of those habits, the only one really,” His grin drops from his face. “Is that you’re scared of your captain.” You pale at his words and start to shake a little. He continues, drawing back slightly.

“That’s something he taught you, right?” He tilted his head a little. “To be scared of your captain. Because you never know when he’ll just up hit you, right?” He parroted your words from the bar back to you. Your eyes are wide with recognition.

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “I know I’m scary, it’s my whole deal. I’m a scary pirate who murders and pillage. But my crew is mine. Understood. I don’t let anyone harm them, especially not myself.” You lean back into the counter more.

“You hurt Wire. You made him need staples and you didn’t even seem sorry. You didn’t help patch him up.” Kid knew this was coming, he still didn’t know what to say.

“It was a mistake,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hit him, but you’re right. I should’ve check on him and made sure he wasn’t hurt.” It was hard to admit he was wrong, but in the small medical room, to you, it was a little easier.

Both of you stayed quiet for a while. He made no move to let you go. And you made no move to try. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually stopped you if you did. Finally, the tension in you jaw and shoulders eased, just a little.

“Badger… was bad. He didn’t just hit us. He stole from us and wouldn’t let us leave, even if some managed to escape they’d have no Beris. It’d be like starting from scratch, but worse because if he caught you he’d kill you.” You paused, taking a big breath, turning to stare at the wall. “I was secretly saving Beris, to hopefully run off and be able to hide from him. I didn’t have much, barely anything. One day he came and told me he wanted me to be his… wife.” Kid stood up straight, leaning back like he’d been struck, you continued barely noticing him.

“I told him no, I should’ve said yes and bided my time. Maybe I could’ve taken more people with me, but I was an idiot.”

“No that’s not-“ You cut him off.

“He threw a fit, tried to kill me. His devil fruit power nullifies weapons, so I couldn’t fight back. I tried to stage a mutiny, but everyone was too afraid, he’d never lost a fight. Eventually I jumped over board and swam to shore. I hid on a marine ship, I never had a bounty so I just pretended to be some girl who wanted to travel. I flirted with some of them and got a ride to a port a few islands over.” You sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate you. “I had no Beris or even clothes. But I overheard some rookies talking about joining your crew. I figured it was the safest option. So I spoke with Killer and here I am.” You trailed off quietly, tears still hadn’t fallen yet, it was almost impressive.

Kid didn’t speak for several long minutes, just watching you hold your breath. Finally he pushed off the counter, giving you both some breathing room. He began to exit when you called out.

“Captain what are you doing?”

He turned with a scowl.

“I’m setting a course to go murder that asshole.”

“What? Why that’s so far off our course.”

“I told you, you’re my crew. We’re gonna go murder him, then if any of your old friends wanna join the crew they can.” He laughed at your shocked face. When he’d caught his breath he turned again to leave.

[softspeirs]

The Major and the Nurse (4): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: You mean I was supposed to watch ep 7 and Rosie run towards a recently landed B-17 all heroically and not write something where he helps with the wounded? *laughs maniacally*

four (loss & grief)

Heads tilted upwards, every stood-down pilot, crew member, and civilian on base counts the number of planes coming in.

It's always fewer than they expect.

The 100th is taking so many losses at this point in the war, Rosie is not surprised when two planes barely make the runway. Red-red flares, wounded aboard. Landing gear screeching, holes in wings smoking, and he's moving before he can even think about what he's doing.

The hatch is open and a slew of bullet casings come tumbling out, a crew member not far behind, dazed. Rosie reaches for him out of instinct, gripping his elbow to keep him upright.

"You're all right, son." He says, but the Captain either doesn't hear him, or hasn't processed it. Rosie lets go.

His attention is drawn, as it tends to be, to the arrival of Lieutenant Grace Fleming. Her face is pale, but set in grim determination.

She meets his eyes for a split second. If she’s surprised to see him there, she doesn’t show it, instead she focuses on the man in front of her, fallen to his knees. His breath comes in fits and spurts.

“Captain—“ She barks, eyes flicking up to Rosie’s once more. “A hand.”

It’s not a request. If he’s here, he has to make himself useful. Another nurse on her left, they’re lowering the man to the ground.

“Need him on a litter right away.”

“Count of three.” Rosie confirms, another member of the medical corps arriving at their side with a stretcher.

“Nurse—“ the man stutters, blood seeping from between his chattering teeth. “Miss Grace, please.”

Grace freezes for only a moment, but it’s enough for Rosie to see. Her jaw clenches. “I’m here, you’re alright. Try to slow your breathing for me, okay?” Her hands are gentle as she clasps his. She presses their interlocked hands to the man’s chest, leaning over him. “You’ve got a bad leg wound and some shrapnel elsewhere, we’re going to get you inside and take care of you.”

“Please,” he begs again. “Grace, I don’t want to die.”

Rosie is relieved when Grace looks at him, nodding once. “Count of three.” She says.

One, two, three, and they’re lifting. Into the ambulance the young Lieutenant goes, and Grace is right behind. Rosie helps her in, hands gripping around her waist and hoisting her inside before he can second guess touching her like that.

“Later.” She says to him quietly before shutting the door.

It didn’t need to be said - their sunset meetings on the hard stand have been a staple for the both of them since he came back from the flak house.

He turns back to the chaotic scene behind him, wanting to help. Scenes like this are becoming more and more common. It makes alarm bells ring in his head. Somehow, though, it makes him more sure about his next move.

.

He waits around on the hard stand for a half hour before a feeling in his gut has him turning back towards the barracks.

He goes to the women's hut first. Shaking his head at his sudden nervousness, he raps his knuckles on the door. Entering uninvited seems wrong, and when the door is opened in front of him, he hastily whips off his hat and clutches it between his fingers.

"Captain!" The woman says, and Rosie is embarrassed to admit to himself that he doesn't know her name.

"I'm looking for--"

"Grace?" Word has gotten around, then. "She hasn't been here. Still at the hospital as far as I know. She missed dinner."

Rosie frowns. That's not like her.

Following his gut, he thanks the woman at the door and turns on his heels, heading in the opposite direction. Not for the first time, he wishes he had a jeep or a bike at his disposal - he knows he could find someone to give him a lift, but he doesn't want to draw any more attention to his meeting with Grace than he apparently already has.

The hospital is eerily silent. He forces himself inside - he still hates the smell and the way everything is so blindingly white.

A few men he recognizes from the landing earlier are in bed, most asleep. Their wounds range from what appear to be minor to a man who is bandaged nearly from head to toe.

There is still blood on the floor.

He steps carefully past the last bed. Still no sign of Grace.

Water runs in a small room to his left, and he makes his footfalls a little heavier in hopes that he doesn't startle her if she is indeed still here, preparing to leave for the day.

He peers around the corner to see her, hands deep in the washing basin. She is scrubbing at her hands so hard, she sounds out of breath. A sick, sinking feeling hits him in the gut.

"Grace." He says her name softly. It comes out hoarse. He takes a few steps closer when she doesn't react. "Grace?"

She's still scrubbing at her hands. When he gets close enough, he can see the color of her skin - bright pink, the water so hot steam is rising from the tap. The soap running from her fingers is clean, not a tinge of any color that shouldn't be there running down the drain.

Her hands are shaking.

Without saying anything else, he reaches for the tap and shuts it off. She doesn't stop rubbing at her hands, her knuckles, her fingernails.

"Grace." His voice is firmer this time. His hands settle over hers. He almost pulls away because of how hot her touch is, but the shaking only gets worse in her long fingers, and he grips her tighter out of instinct.

"He didn't make it." She says, voice like he's never heard it before. Flat. Emotionless. "The Lieutenant from--" She stops, and it's not really a cry, but more of a strangled noise that leaves her throat. "His plane was called Borrowed Time."

Rosie's throat is tight as he watches her. He gently guides her away from the sink, hands still tight around hers. "Come on, sit down for a second."

"I can't-- I have to get the blood off."

"Gracie, you're clean, okay?"

"He-- he begged me." She looks at him then. There are tears in her eyes, but he knows her well enough to know she won't let them fall. "He didn't call for his mother, or for God. He begged me."

Rosie throws all caution to the wind. He pulls her sideways so she's half in his lap. His arms go around her, tugging her close, her head finding purchase on his shoulder. Her breathing is strangled, and he knows she's trying not to break.

"You did everything you could." He assures her. "I know you did everything you could."

"You don't know that. Not for sure."

He's shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. "Yes, I do. There's no one better than you, Grace."

She's quiet for a long time before she pulls away from him. His arms open automatically, and he clears his throat as a sudden awkwardness lands between them like an anvil. "I need to get out of here." She whispers.

"Come on." He says, holding his hand out to her. It feels like an eternity waiting to see if she'll take it.

She does.

.

Lemmons appears at some point to hand over a hastily wrapped parcel of sandwiches and sodas. Rosie looks up at him gratefully, even more grateful when Ken doesn't say anything - he's gotten used to seeing Rosie and Grace out here together.

Grace's face is a mask of stoicism, but Rosie knows better by now. He can see the crease in between her eyebrows that only shows up when she's tired or worried.

He can see the way her shoulders slump downward, her posture normally ramrod straight from years of being shouted at by her parents.

When they're alone again, he watches her carefully for signs that she's knitting herself back together. He doesn't know if his more-than-forward touch in the hospital was wanted, so he doesn't try again, though his fingers itch with the urge to take her hand or pull her close so he can feel her warmth.

"Your twenty-fifth is coming soon." She says suddenly.

He frowns at her. "Why are you thinking about that?"

"You have to go home, Rosie." Her voice trembles.

He takes a step backward. "What? I--"

"Captain Rosenthal, so help me, if you go up there again, you're going to end up in a hospital bed, and if you make me have to tend to you like that, I'll never speak to you again."

His hands go to his hips as he weighs his words. He doesn't want to upset her, he doesn't want to pretend that everything is going to be fine -- hell, he might not make it back at all, let alone without a scratch.

"I can't promise you that."

She stares at him. "You're going to re-up after twenty five." It's not a question.

"The thought has crossed my mind."

She wraps her arms around herself, and he sees it for what it is, shielding herself for what she sees as an unavoidable blow coming her way.

He takes a few steps closer to her, unable to stand the distance any longer. "I'm going to come back." His voice is firm, full of the conviction he feels because he trusts himself, he trusts his men, and because he has something to come back for. He's tired of pretending that's not the case. "I'm going to come back, and I swear I won't have more than minor mending for you to do, all right?"

She looks up at him, the slight widening of her eyes the only indication that he's standing closer than she thought he was. But she doesn't back away.

Her arms fall from around her waist, and reach for him instead. He lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Her touch moves from grasping his hand up to his elbow, and then she's tugging him closer, folding him into an embrace. This time it's him who finds a spot for his forehead on her shoulder, inhaling as he feels her grip him tight.

"Thank you." She whispers. Whether it's for the promise of coming back or for pulling her back from the brink today, he wants to tell her that she doesn't need to thank him, that he would be the one to pull her back a hundred times over if it meant he'd get to have these moments with her.

When they pull apart, arms still around each other, he watches the fading sunlight in her eyes and thinks he's never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.

How he restrains himself, he has no idea.

They walk back to the barracks hand in hand after he stares her down, laughing when she rolls her eyes at him demanding she eat some food in his presence before she goes to sleep.

At the door, he watches her shoulders straighten and hears her take a big, deep breath. He recognizes the motions because he does them too, every time before he hauls himself through the hatch again.

Once more unto the breach.

He's so proud of her. For fighting her way through the hardest day of the war for her so far, for getting up each day and finding a way to be a comforting touch, a healing hand, and a smiling face for these men. He wonders if she has any idea how many lives she's saved, and not just from medicine.

One day he'll have the courage to put into words what she means to him, too.

Today, though, he raises his hand in a farewell as he takes a few steps backward, and laughs under his breath as she blushes just a little.

Her smile plays on a loop over and over again as he falls asleep that night.

[thegnomelord]

If you do make the rest please do! Bcs like... Im thristing for sully more than price now LOL IM SORRY 😭😭😭 HE'S JUST SO BBY GIRL??? i want to fuck this prettty man so bad arghhh

I need more reader and oc! They're so good and and!! I wanna fuck em so bad like 😭😭

Okay I have no idea where this came from but you've managed to get my brain on the 'fuck Sully' bandwagon so here's this

CW:NSFW, mean dom x sub x gentle dom, domtop Reader, subbot Sullivan (oc), domtop Knox (oc) I may have forgotten what features I gave sully lol

Sullivan is a pretty boy. Pretty brown curls tussled like a crows nest, pretty thin lips kiss swollen and caught between his teeth to muffle his moans, pretty dark eyes puffy and red from crying, pretty red scales on his cheeks shining with the tears having wet them.

Pretty lithe body quivering and arching off the bed as Knox forces even more of his strap into his clenching hole, hips smacking together when Knox bottoms out with a sharp thrust. "Relax." The admonishment comes with a sharp slap to Sully's hip, just shy of hitting his balls but it earns a pitiful whimper and a spurt of precum all the same.

Sullivan's cock and balls look hilariously large on his small frame, the flared head reaching almost to the bottom of his sternum. His chest and even his chin is covered in cum from countless orgasms, Knox having expertly worked a toy until Sully had cum before switching out for a bigger one.

This had been Knox's idea. To use various dildos on Sully until you built up to a silicon mold of Sullivan's own cock. You had asked Sully if he wanted it multiple times, and by the time you were satisfied that he didn't feel forced to do anything and genuinely wanted this, he was already squirming with an obvious bulge in his pants and red like a lobster.

"Come on pretty thing," Knox growls, serpentine yellow eyes glowing with lust as he bucks his hips, the head of the toy brushing against his prostate. "You can take more than this." He slapped Sullivan's thigh again, claws raking across flushed skin, other hand snaking up to lazily roll Sully's heavy balls in his clawed hand.

It shows how Sully has even your most sadistic teammate wrapped around his finger as Knox has let Sully cum multiple times. Usually Knox preferred to keep his subs on the edge until they learned that begging for release was useless and were forced to wait until he deemed them ready to cum.

Sully numbly shook his head, blurry eyes staring up at you from where his head rested on your lap. "Please- please sir, I can't-" A loud moan was forced out of his chest when Knox pulled his hips back before roughly bucking back in, his stretched hole wetly slurping with all the lube you're using.

Your hands soothingly run through Sully's hair, his head resting on your thigh. Tenderly holding his cheek you tilt his head to look at you, "Do you want to stop?"

Your question makes Knox stop, his yellow eyes observing both of you. Sullivan whines as if you'd kicked him, eyes fluttering open and closed as he tries to focus on you. "I- sir." He whines, trying to buck his hips into Knox, trying to get him to move. He's so close he feels like he'll explode, his cock twitching against his skin as he whines.

Knox isn't taking it, clawed hands gripping Sully's hips and pinning them down. "C'mon, precious, the captain asked you a question." He growls.

You chuckle, but your eyes narrow. "Sully, answer me." Your voice is firm, keeping his head steady so he can only look at you. "Don't worry, we won't be mad if you want to stop."

"No- no, no no!" Sully whimpers, a full body shiver raking down his body. "I- please, sir- I want to continue." He sobs, his cock twitching as Knox continues to deny that mind numbing pleasure he needs. "Please, I'm so close- just, please, please,"

Your eyes meet Knox's before the man moves, slowly pulling out so Sully can feel every inch of the large silicone shaft until only the tip remains. And suddenly shoves the entire thing back in, silicone balls roughly slapping against Sully's own.

"See cap?" Knox grins as Sullivan seizes up, a pathetic sob leaving him as cum spurts from his tip, mumbling words of gratitude that are too slurred for you to understand. "Told you, our pretty thing takes cock better than a seasoned whore." He thrusts into Sully a couple more times, making a big dollop of cum spurt from his cock when Knox bottoms out.

"Th-thank you sir- oh frick- sirs." Sully manages, soft moans and shuddering breaths leaving his lips. He sobs as Knox pulls the large dildo out fully, wet and lewd sounds reaching your ears and you can just imagine his hole clench around nothing, still so needy for more.

You make a curious sound as Knox pulls on Sully and flips him over. The small man moans as his cock, still hard as rock, rubs against the sheets. "Oh come on now sergeant, that's no way to thank your captain." Knox's eyes meet yours, a hungry look in them as he pushes Sully's head closer to your crotch. "Ain't that right?"

"I suppose so." You hum, unbuckling your belt and finally freeing your cock. You'd hate to admit, but seeing Sully be ruined over and over again on Knox's various cocks has made you hard. Sully looking up at you with such adoring eyes through his ruffled hair certainly doesn't help, especially when he eagerly nods his head.

"Alright pretty boy," You see the way your low purr makes him shudder. He leans into your hand when you slide it to the back of his head, loosely wrapping your fingers in his hair. "Open wide for me," Sully eagerly opens his mouth, greedily taking in your cocktip, too fucked out to feel shy so he just takes half your shaft in one go.

Knox slaps Sully's ass in reward and you feel him moan around you. "How's he feel cap?" He asks as if he doesn't pull the poor man into a supply closet at least once a day to have Sully eat him out. Knox's wide palm smacks down on Sullivan's reddening cheek a few more times, watching the full globes jiggle before he leans back to take off the dildo he'd used, picking up one that's a little wider and longer than before.

You hum a small purr, watching Sully mindlessly slobber over your cock, his hand carefully stroking your other one. "Like a dream." Sully can't hide the shiver at your praise, wiggling his ass without even realizing. "Good boy," You say and gently pull him by the hair to take more of you, your eyes flickering to look at Knox. "Don't keep him waiting any more, he's earned this."

Knox rolls his eyes, a scoff on his lips, but you know it's just for show. "I'd argue on that." He slaps the new dildo on Sully's back, grinding it between the cheeks and letting him feel the entire length of it as he lubes it up. Sully arches his back and Knox leans back to position the thick head against his stretched hole. "But who am I to refuse a slut like this?"

[stargirlaveblog]

7Seals

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Chapter 5*

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• Previous Chapter: Chapter Four Next Chapter: Chapter Six

• New chapters every Thursday •Content: Levi Ackerman x OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

• Word Count: 1.6k • Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter.

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The air in Alexander's quarters hung heavy, once again I felt like an uninvited guest. His desk, cluttered with maps and scouting reports, he sat there staring at it all not saying a word to me. As I stood there, the room felt smaller, suffocating under the weight of unsaid words. It was time I finally stood up for myself.

"So, are you going to ignore me or are we going to talk about it like adults?" I finally broke the tense silence, eyes fixed on Alexander, who sat at his desk, avoiding my gaze.

"What is there to talk about, Iris?" he replied, finally looking up at me. His eyes, once warm, now held a cold distance.

"Oh, I don't know," I retorted sarcastically. "Maybe all the crap you said yesterday in Erwin's office?"

"Everything I said was true. I don't know what else you want me to say," Alexander stated, his tone unyielding.

"Maybe congratulations? Can't you be proud of me?" I shot back, frustration seeping into my voice.

"Proud?" He laughed bitterly. "Why would I be proud? If anything, I'm disappointed in you. I'm the best captain you will ever have. You're going to die by his side just for some title."

"You're just envious it's not you," I accused, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Like I'd want to work under that idiot," Alexander retorted, his bitterness palpable.

"Why are you so bitter?" I cried out, my emotions getting the best of me. "You've been so uptight the moment he entered the regiment."

"I'm keeping my guard up. Why should I trust a thug?" Alexander defended, his walls firmly in place.

"He's not a bad guy, Alexander. If you just took a moment out of your day to talk to him like he's a human being, you'll see," I pleaded, hoping to break through the barriers he had built.

"Oh, and when did you find the time to have a heart-to-heart with him? Sneaking out with that little rat when I'm not around?" Alexander accused, getting uncomfortably close.

"Don't you dare lie to me. I know you guys were together the day the wall fell."

"What? You have people spying on me now?" I scoffed. "I showed him around town. I treated him like a human because none of you will. That's all."

"So, you are cheating on me with that rat," Alexander laughed bitterly. "How embarrassing."

I rolled my eyes at his extreme accusation.

"You know what, Alexander?" I retorted. "You're embarrassing. Treating someone like they're scum, like you're better than them."

"You're not denying that you cheated on me," he argued.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," I said, attempting to walk away. However, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me back towards him. The painful grip on my wrist made my irritation flare.

"Iris, we need to talk about this, remember?" he demanded, his eyes searching for any sign of guilt in mine. It was like he was mocking me.

"No, we don't," I replied, trying to pull away. His grip tightened, and I winced, the physical pain mirroring the emotional turmoil.

"Stop avoiding the truth, Iris," he insisted, frustration clouding his expression. But I couldn't handle this now; the accusations, the hurtful words—he was pushing me too far.

"I shoulda known, you do have a thing for superiors."

"Let go of me, Alexander," I asserted, my tone firm. But he held on, and the tension in the room escalated, the air thick with unresolved issues.

"I didn't say you could go anywhere," he said, forcefully pulling me closer, his grip on my wrist unyielding.

"Let go, Alexander," I insisted, attempting to retrieve my arm, but his hold only tightened.

"You tell me right now." His voice, once firm, escalated in volume. "Did you cheat on me?"

His eyes darkened, and he inched closer, the anger palpable in the air.

"Alexander," I pleaded, meeting his angered gaze. "You know I would never do that."

Feeling small under his towering presence, his eyes bore into mine with undisguised disgust. His anger radiated through my wrist, a painful reminder of his grip.

"You fucking whore," he spat at me, the words hitting like a physical blow.

Tears swelled in my eyes as he regarded me with disdain. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. This feeling was all too familiar.

"Hey! You guys in there?" A voice interrupted from the other side of Alexander's door.

"Levi's looking for Iris!" Hange's voice rang out after a few knocks.

"Yeah, she's with me. She'll just be a second," Alexander called out with a sudden calmness, a stark contrast to his recent anger. But just as quickly, he reverted to being mad at me.

His voice lowered, and his grip tightened even more than I thought was possible.

"Dry those tears," he growled. "Lover boy is waiting for you."

He dropped my wrist, and I continued to stare at him. Locking eyes, I wiped away my tears and left his room without a word.

"Finally!" Hange exclaimed as I stepped out. "Levi and I have been looking for you all over." They rambled on, but their words were distant echoes in my mind.

I couldn't focus on anything Hange was saying. My thoughts lingered on what had transpired in Alexander's room.

"Hey, you!" Hange snapped their fingers in my face. "Why weren't you guys at breakfast?"

"Well," I started, attempting to find the right words.

"Oh!" Hange's voice squeaked. "I get it. You guys needed some alone time, huh?" They nudged me playfully, winking to imply more than I cared to entertain.

"Yeah, sure," I laughed it off, not in the mood for Hange's teasing or having to explain myself. No one needs to know.

"Well, Levi has been looking for you all morning. He's out in the barn cleaning equipment. I'd hurry if I were you," Hange advised.

"Yeah, thanks," I mumbled, feeling defeated.

"Also, find a good excuse to tell Levi why you're late!" Hange yelled after me as I walked away. I threw a thumbs up without turning back, my mind still clouded with the turmoil from Alexander's room.

The walk from the mess hall to the barn felt like a journey through the corridors of my own doubts. The emptiness around me mirrored the void Alexander's emotions had created. He, my supposed confidant, had become my biggest adversary.

"Your late for training, Aldridge," Levi's flat voice cut through my thoughts, making me jump. Another man's stern eyes replaced the lingering anger in my mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time," I replied, unable to meet Levi's gaze. Another set of emotionless eyes felt like too much to bear.

"After every breakfast, I expect you to be in the barn," Levi stated coldly, his tone cutting through the air.

I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes as he spoke. The weight of judgment, both from him and Alexander, pressed upon me.

"Get ready to spar on the training field," Levi ordered. I nodded, taking off my coat and rolling up my sleeves.

"Tch," I heard from behind me.

"What?" I turned to Levi, confused.

"Disgusting," Levi muttered, picking up my coat and throwing it at me. "Hang it up properly."

"Oh, right," I mumbled, taking my coat and hanging it beside Levi's on the wall. As I followed him to the training field, the weight of training felt heavier than usual.

On the field, the new recruits ran through their paces under Shadis's watchful eye. Nothing had changed with that man. He remained an ever-present figure, an unwavering observer of our struggles.

I felt a firm grip on my wrist, followed by a force that shoved me face-first into the dirt. The ground met my face, covering it in a layer of dust. Levi's presence loomed over me, an unyielding force.

"You would be dead right now if I was a real attacker. Pay attention," Levi's voice cut through my disorientation, his words echoing in my ear. I winced at the pain radiating from my wrist, but I refused to let it consume me.

Levi released his grip, allowing me to pick myself up, determination flickering in my eyes. Before I could ready myself for a counterattack, another strike found its mark. My feet were swept from beneath me, and I crashed back to the ground, gazing up at Levi.

"Get up," he commanded, his voice sharp. "Fight me again. We aren't stopping until you pin me."

The challenge hung in the air, and I pushed myself off the ground, fueled by a relentless determination. I don't need another man doubting me. Levi hand picked me for some reason right? Or was it actually Erwin who picked me?

Why was I even picked? I can't fight, Alexander's right. I'm going to dead as soon as we step outside those walls. The only reason why I'm alive is because of Alex.

I felt my body lunge forward as I attacked the Levi with a ferocity that surprised even herself. Each strike was a release of the frustration and hurt. My wrist burned more but my mind just kept wandering.

Alexander is a petty man, just how long is he going to be mad? Will I have to leave the squad for him to forgive me? It was something I was scared to face. I fight titans for a living yet I'm scared of the man I love.

"You're wasting energy," Levi remarked, as he pinned me to the ground once again.

"A distracted soldier is a dead one. Clear your mind or you'll end up proving that shit bag right."

"My mind is clear, Levi." I said pushing myself off the ground.

"It's Captain." Levi's expression remained impassive.

"I wanted capable soldiers, not ones blinded by personal issues. Get your head straight, or you won't last long."

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[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hello! Spreading more asks around for the first kiss prompt!

I'd love to see the prompt - "don't you dare tell anyone about this." "wasn't planning on it." With Crosshair, but the second part being said by the reader possibly with a wink? If that's too specific just the prompt going either way. (The inner Crosshair simp must be fed!)

Love and Wrecker Hugs! ❤️🖤

ahhh!! this was the perfect prompt for Cross and I had a lot of fun writing it! thank you bb!! I fully intended to wait to answer all of these all at once but I'm too excited so, I present:

First Kiss - Crosshair

Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin, folks. Prompt in bold.

Warnings: some angst (because it's Crosshair), a little bit of a toxic relationship but it's fine, mention of my OC Captain Flare, medic!reader, gn!reader, fluff, confessions

Word Count: 1.4k woops

TBB divider by the wonderful @wizardofrozz, other divider by @dystopicjumpsuit

You’ve worked with Clone Force 99 now for nearly a full year, and while you could technically be reassigned at any moment, both Cody and your supervisor, a bitter old bat, assured you that the Republic had bigger fish to fry than the logistics of shuffling one nat-born medic every few campaigns. And so you’ve stayed with the outcasts. They’ve become something akin to family, at least to you. You know most of them feel the same—Wrecker never fails to express his brotherly affection for you, Tech continues to adjust the ship’s thermostat to a temperature that is best suited to you when you’re feeling off, and Hunter’s silent nod and smile tell you all you need to know. 

Crosshair, though, is a tough nut to crack. 

At first, you swore he hated you. Despite the rest of the squad’s assurances that he’d come around, you’d been skeptical. It wasn’t until several months into your assignment, on a mission you really shouldn’t have been on as the team’s medic, when you saved Crosshair from commando droids that something changed. He still snarked you, still flicked his used toothpicks at your face to bother you. But he slowly began to open up to you. He included you in inside jokes, actually listened to your medical advice, and even let you hold his Firepuncher once.

So despite the hospitality and friendliness of the rest of the squad, it’s Crosshair that your heart has chosen to love. You know he cares about you. You just don’t know to what extent. 

Because even though he still maintains an impenetrable wall around himself, he looks after you. On missions and otherwise. When you go out on shore leave as a squad, he glowers at anyone who dares even look in your direction. 

And that’s exactly the situation you find yourself in tonight. Planetside, on Triple Zero, you’d convinced the others to have a night out with you before you shipped back to the warzone in a few days. The missions have been nearly incessant, and you’re all starting to feel the strain. 

Leaning back against the sticky bartop, you survey the crowded dance floor. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker lounge in one of the coveted corner booths, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen them in a long time, dressed in civvies and nursing the cheap booze served by the 79s management. A smile lifts your lips. They deserve this, just one night off, to remind them what the war is for.

But you came here wanting more than to drink weak, watery beer. Taking a swill, you glance sidelong at Crosshair perched on a barstool next to you. 

He hasn’t left your side since you walked in. Normally, his presence is comforting, especially in unfamiliar settings, on unfamiliar planets, around unfamiliar people. But 79s hosts none of those things. In fact, the way he’s ordained himself your personal shadow is beginning to grate. You know he’s scaring off any of the regs who might otherwise ask you to dance, or offer a drink, or even just a friendly hello. You know he’s hovering to protect you. 

You just don’t understand why.

Sighing, you take another swill of your drink. “Kark, what’s a person gotta do to get a dance around here?” 

Crosshair doesn’t answer, just shifts his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. 

You huff. “Cross, c’mon. I don’t need a babysitter. Go drink with the others. I’ll be fine.” 

“S’not you I’m worried about,” he mutters. “S’them.” He jerks his chin toward the dance floor, gesturing broadly to the gathering of regs. 

“I can handle them,” you say, an edge of ice to your voice. Frustration at his inability to actually say what he means boils below your skin. 

Crosshair, predictably, ignores the bite of your words. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.” 

“Great,” you say, pushing away from the bar, “glad we’re in agreement.” 

Shoving your half-empty bottle into his hands. He looks down at it with a bewildered expression, then up at you, his eyes narrowed into slits. You give him a sarcastic, two-finger salute before dipping into the crowd. 

You find a clone—Flare, you think he says his name is—who is more than willing to dance. His grasp on your body is unfamiliar but respectful. The pair of you sway and grind through several songs (you’re certainly not keeping track, too focused on trying to avoid the impulse to see if Crosshair is watching). When Flare whispers into your ear, his lips brushing your skin, your eyes slide shut, desperately wishing he were someone else.

A moment later, Flare yelps and his arms are ripped from around you. Eyes shooting open, you whip around to find Crosshair, every line of his body radiating anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Kriff. 

“Sorry,” you call to Flare as you grab Crosshair’s bicep and haul him through the crowd to the front door. “What the fuck are you doing!?” 

Scoffing, Cross yanks his arm free, though follows hot on your heels as you emerge into the cool night air. “Could ask you the same thing.” 

“I was dancing,” you say.

This is going to be an argument, you just know it, and you don’t want to subject all these strangers to the impending shitstorm. So you keep walking, leading Crosshair around the corner where it’s quieter. 

“Bantha-shit,” he hisses. His firm grip on your shoulder spins you around. “His hands were all over you.” 

“He wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want,” you say, glaring at him. “Maker, what is your issue? I can’t even have a fun night out without you stepping all over my plans, can I?” 

“No,” he spits. “Not if it means—” He cuts himself off and looks away, jaw clenching and unclenching. His chest heaves with emotion, two high spots of color on his cheeks. 

Something in you softens, anger cooling into confusion. “Not if it means what, Cross?” 

Nostrils flaring with every inhale, he shakes his head minutely, eyes pressing shut. 

You hesitate, but after a moment, you sigh. Reaching up, you gently cup his face to draw him back to you. His eyes flutter open to meet your own. This is the closest you’ve been to him, you realize, in your entire time with the squad. Besides his medical exams, this is the most you’ve touched him, too. The realization sets your heart pounding. 

“Don’t shut me out,” you say. “Please.” 

He studies you for a moment. Across his face flits several emotions, none of them identifiable, and you begin to grow worried that all the progress you’ve made with him is about to be tossed over the ledge of this Coruscanti sidewalk. 

A worry that is dashed as soon as he surges forward and kisses you, one hand cupping the back of your neck to steady you. A sound of surprise squeaks out of you. Then you’re melting against him. Tilting your head, you deepen the kiss, one hand settled over his heart. It beats hard and fast under your palm, nearly in tempo with your own racing pulse. His lips are chapped and rough against yours, but you don’t care, because it’s him, and this is all you’ve needed these past few months. 

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes remain screwed shut. He releases a shaky exhale. 

“Cross, I—” 

He kisses you again. “Don’t. Don’t apologize.” 

“How did you—”

“Because I know you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Warmth blooms deep in your chest, right where you’ve made space for him in your heart. “Y-Yeah. Alright. But—”

“No,” he grumbles. “You need to know that I- I’m sorry. For being a di’kut. I should have made a move sooner.” 

A soft chuckle spills from you. “Yeah, you should’ve.” 

At last, his warm, amber eyes flutter open to meet yours. Your breaths mingle in the small space between your faces, and the intensity of affection in his gaze nearly makes your knees collapse. Smiling up at him, you catch the barest hint of a smile in return. For a moment, it’s just you and Crosshair in one another’s embrace, the sounds and smells of the side alley of 79s fading away. 

The moment is shattered when he speaks again. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” 

Laughing in earnest, you can’t help but shake your head. The others are going to find out about this new development sooner or later, but as you meet his gaze again, you realize he doesn’t mean the kiss. Sobering, you nod. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You can’t resist winking, though. He rolls his eyes and grumbles, but tucks you against his side all the same to lead you back to the barracks.

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[jaim-inhothekid]

⚠︎ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

[ W.C ! ] : 2k

[ Summary ! ] : Eustass 'Captain' Kid has a serious problem with jealousy. His girlfriend, Vera, gets frustrated with his overreaction after seeing her being friendly with a random vendor. Killer is called in to help. | NSFW ; OC x Canon

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This is a work commissioned by the lovely @punkgibsons !! If you're interested in commissioning me as well, here's my sheet!

Eustass Kid has a plethora of issues, that much is obvious even to those who only know him by name and face on his wanted poster. His reputation precedes him, always did – Once as the violent rookie with a trigger temper and sharp tongue who carried the biggest bounty between the supernovas, leaving a bloody trail of civilian deaths in his wake. Then as one of the pirates who defeated an emperor of the sea during the raid on Onigashima, either way, Eustass Kid has always been known for being bad news. Some would argue that he put the ‘worst’ in worst generation.

But out of all the issues Kid has going on, the most obvious has to be his possessiveness. Eustass has a nasty jealous streak over his things and over his people. Much like a kid who had never been taught to and therefore hates the concept of having to share – what's mine is mine, what's yours is yours. Kid doesn't see the problem in being a little cautious, especially over his girlfriend, Vera. Men out there are nasty, he knows it better than anyone, is it really that much of a crime to not want some slimy pig to get all touchy with his girl? No, no he doesn't think so.

And Eustass makes his thoughts well known when his fingers dig sharply on the meat of Vera's arm in a steel grip as he drags her back to Victoria Punk grumbling and cursing under his breath. Vera's voice serves merely as background noise to the enraged man, complaints over the harshness of his touch and pleads to let her explain the situation fallen on deaf ears, those that were flushed a bright red at the tips – something that happened when Eustass got worked up, the flush only grew when pointed out as he got even more worked up with the addition of embarrassment. Vera kept her face covered with her free hand as they made their way back to Victoria, out of shame from the scene her boyfriend caused – the offenses being a destroyed vendor's stand and said vendor collapsed on the ground, cradling his bloodied face – and mouthed timid “I'm sorry's” to the townsfolk that caught her gaze.

Upon reaching the ship, Eustass threw the door of his quarters open with such force that the walls shook from the brutal blow. He was not at all softer to close it, either, the windows vibrated in protest when it was slammed shut. And Vera was pushed to stand in the middle of the room as Eustass leaned back against the door, arms crossed and nostrils flared, a grotesque scowl twisting his handsome features.

“Are ya fuckin’ stupid? Seriously, tell me– ‘cause you gotta be fuckin’ with me” Kid spat, his lips twisting in a snarl – it's a rethroical question, obviously. His clenched jaw and the bulging vein in his forehead indicate it very clearly. “Ain't no way you're that fuckin’ dumb!”

Vera alerts her gaze to a random point of the room, looking for anything interesting enough so she can focus her attention on – to escape from the oppressive weight of those burning irises. “... You got it all wrong,” Vera sighed, mentally chastising herself for sounding so meek. At least she found something to focus on, the scraps of metal Eustass has the nasty habit of leaving around at random, she gives him maybe until the end of the day before he trips on one of the piles. “The– The vendor was just being polite! And there was no need to break his stand or his nose! You overreac–”

“Am I, Vera? AM I?” Kid raised his voice, gesturing wildly at himself to further emphasize his questioning – smiling exasperatedly, running his hand through face and up to his hair, combing it back with his fingers. He was always so expressive, even more so when frustrated and angry, and in this case, jealous. “He was just being politeee-n!” Kid mockingly imitates the sound of Vera's voice, high pitched and grating in a poor attempt to recreate her soft tone, she scowls at the childish display. His mocking grin falls back in that enraged snarl, like the flip of a switch. “Yer always givin’ me that bullshit, no one ever flirts with ya– NOOO, ‘COURSE NOT! WHY WOULD THEY? I'm always overreacting! Right?!”

Vera huffs and rolls her eyes, stepping back to sit on their shared bed. Scowling up at the red haired man with her arms firmly crossed over her chest, she watched silently as he worked himself up over nothing. Childish, embarrassing, even. A whopping 6 foot and 9 inches worth of a whole – not quite, maybe ¾, disregarding the arm – grown ass man throwing a tantrum over petty jealousy.

“What?” He growled, face darkening and a dangerous glint shining in his eyes, menace hanging in the air “Why t’fuck are ya staring at me like that?”

Vera kept her mouth shut, crossing one leg over the other as her foot tapped impatiently against the floor, she looked at her empty wrist in a mocking imitation of how one would check their watch and then glanced back at the man, clear exasperation in her features. Are you done?

“Yer gonna be like that, huh?” Eustass clicks his tongue, kisses his teeth, a small huff leaving his mouth – expressive, noisy, overwhelming – the way he holds himself reflecting perfectly on all of his actions and general approach to life. The way his face momentarily falls into a mask of indifference was almost convincing, the calm before the storm, Vera knew him too well to think that he was done. “Fine, great. Fuckin’ awesome.”

Vera gave him the shoulders, looking straight at the wall, was she lowering herself to his level by offering the silent treatment? Maybe, was it just as childish? Yeah, definitely. But still, this was far from the first and definitely not even close to the last time Kid pulled a stunt like that. It was upsetting to have all of her interactions with strangers seen with malicious eyes – she was just friendly, what's so wrong with that?

Vera's thoughts were cut short when Kid took a large fistful of her dark curls, forcefully turning her head to face him again– and the first thing in her field of vision was his cock, thick and flushed pink, adorned by a ladder of golden piercings that followed the curve of his shaft, throbbing along with the fast beat of his heart.

“Y'Don't wanna talk to me? Fine,” he growled, a smug sneer tugging at his lips at Vera's immediate flustered reaction. He bucked his hips slightly, making the tip bump against the plush of her bottom lip, a small trail of precum left behind. “Talk to this cock, then”

Might as well, right?

Vera opened her mouth only partially, feeling cheeky. She didn't want to be too eager and comply with his demands right away, she was still angry at him, dammit! – even though the sight alone was enough to send a wave of pleasure running down her spine and made her momentarily forget what she was even mad about. Eustass was having none of it, sticking the rough pad of his thumb past her lips, he forced it open by pressing firmly against the roof of her mouth. Immediately sticking his cock inside the moment she gave him room for it.

“That's it, brat” Kid hissed, a mean smirk on his face as he used her throat as a free use sleeve. The little choked gargles and the enclosing warmth of her throat constricting around his dick made Kid suck his bottom lip between his teeth, “That's the best thing that pretty trap o’ ya's can do”

Eustass had an iron grip on Vera's head – fingers interlocked within the thick curls, he bullied his shaft into the wet cavern of her throat carelessly, his piercings making a soft clink! clink! Whenever they scraped over her teeth. His nostrils flare and a shuddered curse forces its way out of his throat when Vera hollows her cheeks and takes his shaft into her hand – jerking it once just to make his tip peek out from the foreskin, her tongue swiping over the slit to collect the pearls of precum forming on it. Kid's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuckkkk, I love that slutty mouth–” He groaned, tossing his head back at a particularly hard suckle on his tip, he had half a mind to pursue his lips before a whimper could come out. “Fuckin’ minx” He growled, taking his hand off her scalp to harshly pinch her nose – cutting of her air supply. Eustass slammed his dick into the back of her throat a few more times until fat tears formed on those pretty eyes and her hands went to grab his thighs, nails digging at his tensed muscles. With a devious smirk, Kid pushed her off his dick and into the bed with a hard shove to her forehead.

Gasping for air, Vera barely had time to reconnect with her surroundings before Kid was on her again. Pinning her body down and laying in between her legs, forcing them to spread wide open to accommodate the width of his waist – taking both her wrists into one hand, he trapped her hands in front of her body. Kid kissed her with the hunger of a man who haven't had a meal in months, licking into her mouth and tasting himself on her tongue, sucking and biting on her lips until they swelled and bruised, a thin line of spit connected their mouths when he pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers and growling darkly against her lips.

“Repel.”

Vera's thighs snapped open and she couldn't move her wrists– how?! She looked down, startled, blinking at the newfound metal restraints – a spreader bar digging into the supple skin of her thighs, with a chain connecting to the improvised handcuffs around her wrists, from the scraps on the floor, of course.

“Be a darlin’ and stay ‘ere,” Kid winked, delivering a swift spank to Vera's still clothed pussy. Laughing when her legs twitched against the restraints and whined, such a bully. “Not like ya’ can go anywhere else” He scoffed, giving her body one last, appreciative once over before tucking his dick back into his pants and exiting the room. Leaving her there in that vulnerable position.

It didn't take too long before Eustass came back with a familiar figure by his side, Killer. Vera couldn't help but flush bright red at being under the gaze of the two men – even though Killer was no stranger inside their bedroom, in fact, he was familiar to the point of not even being considered a simple guest anymore. The blonde smirked knowingly at her when he took notice of her flustered look.

“Is he being too hard on you, pretty girl?” Killer rasped on that low, rough tone of his. And Vera felt her bottoms getting more ruined by the second – the fabric damp with her dripping arousal.

“Too hard on ‘er my ass” Kid retorted, his lips drew back into a snarl. Nodding his chin at Vera's direction, they walked further into the room – Killer locking the door behind him as they came to stand over the bed, looming over Vera. “Sluts like ‘er aren't satisfied with just one man”

“That true, pretty?” Killer asked, a mean grin spreading over his face as he cocked his head down at her. Vera pouted, batting her eyelashes innocently at the blonde. “No, you're not a slut, pretty girl. I know you aren't–”

Killer's knee dipped on the mattress next to her head, cradling her neck softly as he sat down and eased her head to lay on his lap, teasingly close to the hardened bulge in his pants. Kid followed his lead, kneeling in between Vera's spread thighs – she gasped loudly as the redhead ripped at her bottoms, the thin fabric dangling in slashed pieces over her hips as her cunt was exposed, the candidly messy scenery of her spread legs and glistening core had Kid hungrily licking his lips at her.

“– But we know you love being fucked like one”

[dreamersinthedaylightinspo]

Saw a post about Rhys being insane for going after Illyrians who worked with Amarantha while he also worked for Amarantha which reminded me very strongly of a bit that I've been casually working on in my notes app because I have Amarantha’s Takeover Rule Brainrot

Loosely connected with my ficverse and featuring entirely OCs but -

The Illyrian had his hands up. He was speaking - the same word over and over -

"Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Sanctuary."

Martialis kept his hand raised in stay, but did not lower his short sword. "Who are you? Identify yourself at once!"

"Azeneth of Ironcrest," said the Illyrian. His long hair was a tangled nest of black, a few braided pieces around his pallid, terrified face. He was young, Pyrrha realized with a start - no older than she was, if even that. "Sanctuary. I mean you no harm."

"Liar," someone spat, to her left.

Azeneth's eyes widened; his head whipped to the sound, so Pyrrha got a close look at his eyes - the pupils large as saucers, the whites stark, tears pricking at the corners.

"Its the truth! Please - they'll kill me if I don't fight - the High Lord has gone completely mad -"

"And how do we know you were not sent here to spy on us?" asked Martialis calmly.

Azeneth looked pleadingly at the captain. "They will kill me," he repeated. His fear was genuine; he reeked with it. The green siphoning stone on his chest shone ominously as his emotions flared.

"How did you manage to escape?" Martialis continued.

Azeneth wet his lips. His wings twitched and there was a shift, a series of clanging sounds, as the soldiers behind him lifted their spears and poised to throw. At once, he raised his hands higher, demonstrating his surrender.

"The general is missing," said Azeneth. "We believe that he has been killed - and my unit commander raised this concern with the wrong person - he was executed, and while they were all distracted, I ran."

"And the wards? How did you pass through unscathed?"

"There is a hole on the southeastern segment of the city wall," Azeneth confessed at once. "It hasn't been repaired yet, and its high, so only someone with wings can break through. We know all the weaknesses in the wards - I came through that point, and the others will be coming through after me. They are planning to send a small force to the main gate as a distraction while the Illyrians break through the weak spot. Then the rest of the army will follow."

The south wall - the school, Celestine, was there. Pyrrha's blood ran cold, and it was clear that she wasn't the only one. Martialis's expression was grave, and he ordered, "Tell Keeper Darnic to warn his counterparts, and send a message to Otho and the general."

There was a flurry of movement as one of the priestesses broke free from the group and rushed off. Pyrrha did not dare take her eyes from the Illyrian, who was noticeably trembling.

"Thank you for your information," said Martialis. "For your contributions, a quick death."

Azeneth let out a whimper, but before the captain could attack, Lucretia raised her voice.

"You do not dare spill innocent blood in the Mother's sacred hall!"

Martialis spared the old priestess a glare of indignation. "He's an Illyrian spy," he said, as if she were too stupid to have figured it out. "Illyrians are trained to kill from the womb. We cannot let him live."

"How dare you?" Lucretia's voice, though throaty with age, was still powerful. "The Mother loves each of her children and lifts them when they stumble!"

"We don't have time for sermons!"

"You are right," said Lucretia, lifting her chin. "I am merely reminding you - this is *my* temple. I am the Reverend High, by age and by decree. And if this child claims Sanctuary in the arms of the Mother, then I grant it without hesitatation. Those who would tarnish the Mother's sacred hospitality and compassion have no place here."

Martialis colored with fury and shame flashed across his eyes. Pyrrha understood at once what he must be feeling - not only had Lucretia just threatened to upend their war plans and throw Martialis to the literal wolves at the door, but the old woman had a special talent for enforcing discipline. Serapion slacked off on chores and argued with his parents, but he'd always known better than to sass his grandmother. They all did.

"Disarm him!" The captain snapped the order, but it wasn't directed at anyone in particular and nobody moved at first.

Pyrrha raised her spear and relaxed out of her stance. Her feet carried her - one step, two steps, three steps, four steps - until she was within arms length of the Illyrian.

She held out her hand.

Azeneth began pulling black stone knives from his person - long, curved blades strappedno to his chest, and four daggers strapped to his waist, and another, smaller one in his boot. He dropped them all to the floor one by one, letting them clatter and clang against the tiles. The last thing he removed was the leather strap which held the green stone, and this was the only thing he handed to Pyrrha, placing it gently on her palm.

Her fingers closed around it as she took a step backward. It was warm, and seemed to have a faint heartbeat.

"Search him!" Martialis commanded.

Two male soldiers stepped forward and did so, roughly yanking on his leathers and slapping their hands hard against his body. Azeneth winced, but did not protest.

"Clean!"

Azeneth slowly lowered his hands. No one lowered their weapons.

Martialis broke the tension by sheathing his blade, and turning to face the old priestess.

"Where can we keep him?"

Lucretia's mouth pursed and she said, "He is a guest, not a prisoner."

"Be that as it may," said the captain flatly. "We are at war."

Lucretia looked at Pyrrha, who stared back at her blankly. She was still holding the stone out; she realized she was somewhat afraid of it, and then chided herself as she forced her body to stand normally, arms at her sides. Illyrian siphons were powerful, but they were only stones once they'd been removed from their wearers. Azeneth was harmless.

"My grandson could use some help with organizing our medical supply," suggested Lucretia. "Perhaps our guest might be willing to help?"

Azeneth lowered his chin as a few soldiers snickered to see his expression.

Pyrrha said, "Sure. I'll take you to him. This way."

She looked at Azeneth, who eyed her a bit warily, but followed when she walked. She felt every single eye - her peers, the other priestesses - and only paused when she reached Lucretia's position by the doors.

"Keep your eyes open," the old priestess advised.

Pyrrha nodded. That would be wise indeed.

[sehtoast]

Captured in Kindness (Homelander x OC) 18+

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man).

Warnings: Light noncon, stalking, voyeuristic masturbation, vaginal sex, oral sex

Summary: Love and kindness are but bargaining chips- until they're not. Until they're real, and all Homelander wants is to be as close to the source as possible.

Word Count: 2.6k

Perhaps it all began with a smile.

Not one full of adoration, nor dripping with corporate insincerity. No intent dancing in his eyes.

It was the kindness.

The way the wall crawler treated him left him breathless. Sure, he’d put on the persona during their initial interactions. After all, he was the boss.

The captain.

The Homelander.

But that smile made him feel like he was more.

Of course, he did nothing to deserve it. He wanted Translucent’s seat filled, and he practically had to threaten the web-head into joining The Seven– but it’s not like he would hurt him.

Not now.

Not after peering through that mask to see those brown eyes, so soft, so sweet, gazing back at him. The caramel colored flecks within, the darkness encompassing that pupil that locked head on with his own.

Unafraid to look him in the eye.

No, no… Perhaps it began even before that.

Maybe it was the time he’d spent observing the bug– before the offer of recruitment was accepted– that really did him in. Watching him wake, fumble through his morning hygiene routines, consume whatever pure sugar passed as cereal these days, and head out for that abysmal nine-to-five job he hated so much.

Of course, there was investigating to be done while the bug was away.

While Benjamin was away.

The name always seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue.

Benjamin.

The Spider-Man. The masked vigilante that sparked debate on unsanctioned heroics on damn near every social media platform.

Once a thorn in his side– suddenly the apple of his eye.

It was so easy to get into his apartment, too. After all, why lock the bedroom window when it’s six stories above the ground with no fire escape?

The first time, Homelander simply meandered about. He breathed in a deep gulp of air the second his boots touched the carpet, inhaling the wall crawler’s scent. Notes of an apple-cinnamon air freshener lingering about.

He’d seen this room already– the perks of x-ray vision, of course. He’d watched Benjamin through the walls for days, now. Standing inside felt… different.

Better.

He walked around the room, just looking.

A bookshelf, its contents collecting dust. His desk, papers strewn about haphazardly– one of them in particular being his contract with Vought. Envelopes of bills due in a week’s time. The noisy desktop computer providing an ambient hum he’d come to appreciate.

Posters on the wall– none of them even remotely related to The Seven.

The bulletin board tacked with leads for cases he had been looking into while moonlighting as Spider-Man.

He made his way to the bathroom. The last lingerings of soap had his nostrils flaring, lungs filling.

Citrus.

Benjamin smelled of citrus.

The sight of himself in the mirror clicking his tongue disappointedly.

Captivated by another one, eh, sport?

He spent hours lingering in Benjamin’s apartment.

Just long enough to leave before the web-head arrived home.

From then on, it was fair game. Sleepless nights spent tailing Benjamin throughout the city, high in the sky where he’d never be noticed. Watching him handle the most vile of criminals with mercy.

Scum that Homelander would’ve eviscerated, delivered instead in a cocoon of webbing to the nearest police department.

The salty aroma of Benjamin’s tears at the worst of sights tickling his nose so fiercely that he could fucking taste them.

The pride he felt when the bug finally solved the case of a missing person. The beauty of watching him pull the police report off his bulletin board that same night.

Then, rinse and repeat.

Lose what little rest he needed to watch Ben sleep. The pang of pity at the way the web-head’s sixth sense roused him nearly every hour. The twitching kick of his leg, the way his eyes shot open with urgency before succumbing to sleep once more.

Wait for him to leave for work.

Enter.

By the end of the week, he grew bold.

Very bold.

Brave enough to touch things.

Lay in his bed.

Rifle through drawers.

“My, my…” He murmured, lower lip sucked between his teeth when he opened Ben’s underwear drawer.

Neatly folded, all kept to the left side of the drawer. To the right, his socks.

Homelander cocked his head to the side, a whimsical smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

“All for me, hm?”

At some point, lust became a factor in all of this. Perhaps from watching Benjamin strip naked and shower. The sight of his hands smoothing over his skin. The way his muscles moved with every motion. The way the water dribbled down his flesh, falling from his shoulders, dancing over the two scars on his chest, down to that cunt that had been a beautiful surprise.

One night, he’d shared in the act of self pleasure with Benjamin.

Mouth watering at the sight of the web-head taking himself apart, stroking his cock in time with every thrust of a toy he knew damn well he could outperform.

It felt so fucking good, too.

So incredible that he swore he saw stars when he came. He actually had to catch his breath, afterward.

Homelander knew he’d need a keepsake after that.

At that moment, contemplating Ben’s underwear, he settled on a very special pair. Red waistband, white logo, and a blue base.

His colors.

He unrolled them, pressing them directly to his nose, inhaling deep, holding it until his mind felt hazy.

Beneath the scent of detergent was the lingering aroma of Ben’s cunt.

It had been amusing, days later, watching Ben grumble to himself that the pair he’d taken had vanished.

”First my socks, now my underwear?” He’d bickered at the washing machine.

He got away with it.

Now, he could only grow bolder. And he did, very much so. What was more bold than stroking himself to completion as he lay in Benjamin’s bed?

It began with a sniff of the blankets. That scent. Then, rifling through the nightstand, producing that toy.

He popped the shaft of it into his mouth immediately, tasting him.

How could he resist touching himself?

Belt thrown on the floor, boots kicked off haphazardly, pants at his ankles as he writhed against the sheets. His head pressed back into the pillow, drool spilling between the toy and the corner of his mouth. Cute little moans reverberating in his chest with each stroke, each twitch of his cock.

Benjamin’s taste and scent nothing short of intoxicating.

Hips jerking, slick sounds filling the room, thoughts of driving his cock as deep into Benjamin as he could. He wondered if the web-head could take him. Would that pretty little cunt swallow every inch of him? Could he withstand the brutality of his full power?

The thought of that heat alone had him blowing a thick load directly onto the top half of his suit, a rope or two painting both his face and the toy.

Was it possibly a little depraved to rub his cum all across the shaft of the toy, letting it dry, then put it back?

Perhaps. However…

The next time Ben uses it, Homelander will have claimed him.

A thought so delicious he throbbed again.

This is how it remained, even after Benjamin was moved into the tower. Lurking, sneaking, taking…

And, oh, how he adored their interactions. The softness with which the web-head treated him despite it all.

He took the bug under his wing. Worked with him for an entire month under the guise of ‘training.’

Initially, it began as following along on patrols. Making sure he was being a hero in all the right ways. Expressing his admiration.

Then, spending time on rooftops during their outings. Following Benjamin to an ice cream vendor that the bug swore was the best thing in the world.

Maybe it was…

But, maybe it was extra sweet because the wall crawler had personally spooned the first bite into his mouth. Their chemistry had been growing with every single day, but even that took him by surprise. Enough that his cheeks tinged red.

His brain must have short circuited.

“Yummers…”

Why the fuck did he say that?

Why the fuck did he say that?

His only relief was the way Ben’s lopsided grin turned to a full, beaming smile. Those caramel specks in his eyes dancing with a joy he caused.

The beauty was enough to drown out even the loudest of his alter ego’s taunts.

Tomorrow, they had that stupid fucking defense bill party to attend, but tonight..?

Tonight, it was just them.

Just a flight across the city, Benjamin in his arms, and those delightful little giggles that sent pangs straight to his heart.

His heart…

Battered and torn in two days’ time.

He woke Benjamin. Mind adrift, body on autopilot.

He just wanted to feel safe…

Was it any wonder he crawled back into that bed? Nuzzled himself into clumsy arms and just let go…

Stifled the sobs, sure… But the tears?

He let Ben wipe them away. Nodded with each little coo that promised safety.

Begged for something to change into. He could still smell Madelyn’s charred flesh on his suit…

What was wrong with him… acting so weak. Sitting at the edge of the bed so Ben could work the suit free from his body, letting his little spider see the false muscles he was so ashamed of.

“Arms up, pumpkin.”

Pumpkin…

He dared to look up. Eyes flitting up just in time to catch a smile so soft, so genuine that it nearly made him start crying again.

Instead, he jumped the gun. Lunged forward, pressed his lips to Ben’s, kissing him as though it was the last thing he’d ever do. Hands at the sides of his little spider’s jaw, keeping him there against a struggle that never came.

His heart surged at the reciprocation, at the hand that came to rest at his cheek.

“John…”

That name.

His name.

A name he gave so that Ben could breathe life into it. Whispered with…

No…

Please, no.

“Not like this.” Ben murmured to him, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. “Another time… When you’re not hurt. When your heart and mind are at ease.”

He looked down, a hand still touching Ben’s neck.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, y’know?”

Something he’d never heard before. A basic fucking courtesy that had never been extended toward him.

Kindness.

Kindness, followed by a kiss to his forehead before Ben helped dress him.

He let Benjamin hold him that night. His back to Ben’s chest, the bug’s arm resting over his side, their fingers laced together. He didn’t sleep– couldn’t, actually.

The only solace he had was Ben’s breaths tickling the nape of his neck and the promise of another time.

Another time would come within a week.

Yet another night spent zipping through the city, though not for their usual patrol.

Just for fun. An escape from the corporate bureaucracy that came with daytime.

Somehow, they’d ended up in a game of chase. To make it fair, he allowed Benjamin to have a head start.

It, of course, didn’t take long for him to catch up. To snatch him out of the sky between swings and hurtle through the city toward the spot they’d designated to be their own.

The Chrysler Building.

Laughter and smiles from both of them the whole way there.

He brought them up to the perches, but landed closer to the wall.

“I’ve got you now,” he growled playfully.

“Oh!” Ben played along, smiling wide under his mask. “Whatever shall I do?”

He meant to reply with, fuck… something, but he lost the thought. So close.

So, so close…

Even Ben had felt the moment shift. Saw the exact second the playfulness left Homelander’s eyes and became something more. Felt the tension.

Felt the fingers pulling the neckline of his mask up, further and further, stopping just past the tip of his nose.

Homelander gave Ben the chance to stop before they passed the point of no return.

The chance to reject something as cruel and fucked up as him.

Instead, a hand at his neck, fingers dancing at the nape.

“John…” Whispered differently this time. Yearning rolling off the tongue as easily as his name. Want and…

Permission.

So he leaned in. Captured Ben in a kiss so warm and passionate that even he, The Homelander himself, felt dizzy.

Hands at his hips, pulling their bodies flush as he pressed Ben further against the wall. In that moment, despite all the lust that had been consuming him, Homelander found that all he wanted was to handle Benjamin with the utmost care.

Lest he break this part of his heart, too.

Ben’s arms around his neck pulled him impossibly closer, deepening the kiss, their tongues dancing against one another.

Neither separated until it became apparent that they still needed to breathe something more than just each other.

They ended up entwined in Benjamin’s bed. Homelander bit back on his unsteady breaths as the web-head kissed down the length of his abdomen, hands traveling over every dip and curve of his body. Splaying his thighs wide, stroking up the insides of them.

Kisses pressed everywhere.

It was the first time he truly understood what it felt like to be worshiped.

No pretense, no need to perform. Not with him.

Not with Benjamin, who had seen him fall apart and loved him enough to hold him together…

He cried out when he felt those soft, wonderful lips engulf the head of him, tongue flitting over the underside, sinking lower, lower…

So slowly.

As though Ben meant to commit every detail of his cock to memory with his tongue.

Savoring him, until the moment he shot his release in thick, creamy ropes down Ben’s throat– every ounce of it swallowed. The taste kissed back into his mouth.

He practically begged to be allowed to return the favor. There came a point, with his face buried between Ben’s legs, that he lost himself entirely. Licking and sucking, tasting every drop of his little spider’s pleasure until he was sure nothing could ever be as sweet.

The hands in his hair, gripping.

The hips rutting up against him.

The feeling of Ben’s cunt quivering through a third orgasm.

The moans he caused.

The pleasure he gave.

For a moment, he smirked at the feeling in his chest, believing it to be pride. When he glanced up at Ben– who stared down with an adoration so intense, he felt it in his bones– he realized something terrifying.

Not pride.

Love.

It was love he felt as he sank deep into Ben’s core, every inch engulfed– far greater than any fantasy he’d ever had.

Love, as he thrust deep and slow, foreheads pressed together. Breaths mingling, hands gripping.

He was in love.

Even as his pace picked up and he had to remind himself not to break his own heart, he acted with love.

He came with a strangled cry, pumping Ben full, each clench of his lover’s orgasm milking him of everything he had. His name whispered like a prayer, breathing life into something that was no more than a label given to a product in development.

“J-John…”

Whispered, again. This time, overflowing with adoration.

He kissed that name from Ben’s lips, pouring every ounce of himself into the act.

They’d rolled, and, seemingly in the blink of an eye, the sun had come up. Ben lay asleep in his arms, and Homelander realized he had fallen– and remained– peacefully asleep for the first time in…

A very long time.

He stared at Ben for quite a while, pondering.

His heart, it seemed, was a small price to pay to be captured by such kindness.

[mamamittens]

A Lone Melody (Pt. 1)

Platonic Yandere Arlong & OC(Melody)

Main

Warnings: Child endangerment, abandonment, possesive behavior, and canonical racism.

Word Count: 1,785

This takes place before Fisher Tiger's death and his "Don't brutally beat the shit out of humans just because you can" speech.

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

In a world almost completely covered by sea, it wasn’t humans that were destined to rule, it was fishmen.

This, Arlong knew, was simply an inevitable truth. Like the sun rising and falling in the sky and the ocean waves capsizing ships. One could argue. Fight it. But at the end of the day, this pitiful belief was like a rowboat in a hurricane. That was why he chose to follow Fisher Tiger alongside his childhood friends. Leaving behind Fishman-District, as well as Shyarly. She could handle herself fine now, so Arlong was scarcely worried about her.

For too long, those pathetic humans sat on top of that glorified hill and it was about time someone went up there and taught them a lesson.

Although… for someone so eager to fight back against humans, Fisher Tiger was soft. Soft like Jinbe who kept trying to mediate when they were younger. Arlong didn’t really get it, but he supposed that sometimes there were bigger fish to fry than personally beating the inferiority into their weak, human bodies. He wouldn’t even have time to think if he personally beat up every last arrogant human he came across.

Arlong looked out across the waves as they sailed to their next destination. The waves scarcely choppy as the sun glared down at them. He considered going for a short swim to take a break from the heat.

And that’s when he saw it.

A small iridescent bubble bobbing on the surface. Something inside it wriggling. A fish? Who bubbles a fish? Why? Curious and bored enough to investigate, Arlong leapt into the water, ignoring the startled cry of Jinbe.

“Arlong?! Where are you going, we’re supposed to be cleaning!”

Anything else Jinbe had to say was lost to the waves as Arlong powered effortlessly through the water.

The bubble was small, small enough that Arlong was a little impressed with himself that he even saw it to begin with. Somehow, it hadn’t popped yet, easily sliding into his arms as he brought it closer to see past the reflection of light that danced across the top. When he loomed over it, he was startled to find that it was a baby. Bafflingly enough, a fishman baby at that.

Swaddled in a thick blanket, the baby squirmed, upset at their imprisonment. Chubby face scrunched up and red, a stark contrast to their otherwise cool gray skin tone. White hair obscuring their features in fluffy chunks tipped with red and black. Gills around their tiny neck flaring as they whimpered, small hands with dark gray fingers clenched into tight fists. They didn’t even have teeth yet, gums smooth as they babbled unhappily.

Not wanting to leave the poor baby uncomfortable for much longer, Arlong carefully held the bubble close and swam back to the ship, climbing up the ladder Jinbe lowered.

“Arlong, what did you find?” Jinbe asked, the rest of the crew coming around to see. Arlong took a moment to stand, adjusting the bubble before placing his hand over the surface, popping it finally. The muffled whines now unimpeded as the baby cried, blindly reaching out and flailing in the open air.

“A baby.” Arlong grunted, carefully brushing back their hair. “A fishman baby.”

Wide ruby eyes looked up at him in shock. Staring right into his eyes as they smiled, clumsy fist hitting his hand and curling around his thumb with a happy warble. Pulling his hand in closer to gnaw on it. Despite himself, Arlong smiled, wriggling his fingers in their grip to their delight.

“Half.” Arlong looked up in surprise at his captain, Fisher Tiger staring softly at the baby. He reached down and brushed his thumb over the baby’s cheek. “They’re half fishman.”

Arlong scowled.

“What?” Arlong sneered, disgusted at the idea that any fishman would lay with a human, let alone have a child with them. Although, clearly something went wrong if the baby was abandoned in a bubble to float on the ocean’s surface rather than given away. “How do you know?” Arlong asked curiously, especially considering how different fishmen could look.

“Their skin, it’s too soft, the fat not firm enough. The texture is… not quite right for a full fishman. Their hands don’t have enough webbing. They even have fingerprints. Their hair is also softer. More like a mermaid’s, really.” Fisher Tiger announced in a soft voice, gently uncurling a fist to reveal faint markings as the baby tried to grasp his finger as well. “They must take after their fishman parent more than the human one, but still… they’re definitely not purely fishman.”

Arlong looked down at the baby in shock. Noting the differences himself. The baby seemed more like Shyarly than any fishman kid he could remember, but then again mermaids were a bit more delicate. They weren’t especially strong either but he’d be willing to chalk that up to him being a full-grown adult and them… well, a baby. It would be really fucking stupid to expect a baby to be stronger than himself.

“…Well, what do we do with them?” Jinbe asked with a frown. “Do we… take them back to Fishman Island?”

Arlong instinctively held the baby closer to his chest, his eyes drawn back to the wide, ruby eyes that had barely left him the entire time.

“Where did you even come from, kid?” Arlong asked, leaning down. He jerked in surprise when the baby reached up and grabbed the tip of his nose with a delighted laugh. The sound of paper crinkling clear now that he was so close. “Hm?”

Arlong gently freed himself and poked around the blanket, revealing a scrap of paper stuck to the baby’s chest. The ink having bleed heavily and staining the baby’s skin. It was a note, clearly, but the full contents were unreadable.

The occasional word remained intact enough that they were legible. Fisher Tiger grabbed the paper and squinted at it, holding it up to the sun to see better.

“I… desper—desperation… use…Bubb—bubble? Free… We… no… I Lov—love? Be gone… Sorry… My Melody…” Fisher Tiger paused, looking down at the baby. “…Melody, huh?”

Arlong looked at Jinbe and the others. His chest aching a little despite his distaste for humans.

They’re just a baby… just a baby.

“Something must have happened. They can’t have been out at sea for long. Maybe… one of the nearby islands knows something?” Arlong suggested, receiving startled looks. Arlong flushed and defended himself quickly. “I mean, clearly whoever wrote the note couldn’t keep them. If it was their… human parent, then it was because the baby is half fishman. If it was their fishman parent, they would have fled back to Fishman island since the baby could survive there, so something must have stopped them.” Arlong argued.

Fisher Tiger nodded, approval in his eyes.

“In the meantime… you and Jinbe look after them. We don’t have proper clothes but we can at least clean them up and feed them. Remember, no solids.” Fisher Tiger ordered.

“Ack! Why me?! Arlong is the one that found them!” Jinbe asked with a grimace.

“I can manage a baby.” Arlong protested as well, figuring it couldn’t be too different from Shyarly.

Fisher Tiger just smiled mischievously.

“Because I said so!” He laughed, the baby squealing in joy as well.

Small mercies, Melody was a very happy and agreeable baby. Arlong knew this was a rarity in babies but decided to count his blessing rather than complain about it. She—yes, a she, it was unavoidable given that they needed to bathe her. The end of her feet from arch to toes were the same color as her fingers and it made him laugh—seemed to want for nothing but to be held. A task that Arlong accepted easily enough and that Jinbe took over when he clearly grew jealous of the attention Arlong was getting from the cute baby. She was constantly playing with their shirts and burying her face into their necks while babbling.

Anytime they set her down for literally anything she cried and started squirming towards the nearest person. Clumsy and tearful.

Arlong assumed, somewhat sadly, that she was afraid of being left alone again. A sentiment he quietly sympathized with, remembering his own childhood and abandonment by his father. So he ignored the ribbing of his crewmates and made a sling to keep her to his chest but free his arms.

“…You’re not going to want to let her go.” Jinbe quietly warned him after seeing the look on Arlong’s face when he first put Melody in the sling. Her eyes staring up at him like he was the only thing worth seeing, gnawing on her fingers in contentment. “She’s still half-human, you know.”

Arlong looked at Jinbe a bit helplessly, having completely forgotten for a moment that Melody wasn’t his baby. It was almost frightening how little he cared about her human parentage after only a day.

He hated humans.

But… Melody wasn’t human. She wasn’t even half-fishman in his eyes. Not since she grabbed a spoonful of gruel and tried to feed him with it despite clearly being ravenous.

Quietly, in a small part of his heart, all he knew was that she was his.

Jinbe saw his relieved smile when they did their rounds at the nearby islands and found no whisper of a mixed couple. He didn’t say anything to Arlong, seemingly understanding his feelings without words.

“Well, seems like we’ll have to make a stop at Fishman Island.” Fisher Tiger said with a sly look towards Arlong and Jinbe. “Unless you two think you can handle taking care of Melody.”

“Of course I can!” Arlong scoffed, holding up Melody in the air as she giggled. “I can handle you just fine, can’t I, Melody?” She flailed in her new onesie emblazoned with their Jolly Roger, kicking her feet.

“Oh yeah, you plan on fighting with a baby strapped to your chest, Arlong?” Jinbe teased. “Really going to strike fear into those marines looking like that.”

Arlong clicked his tongue, laying Melody onto his shoulder where she quickly grabbed a fistful of hair and started chewing on it. Arlong tactfully ignored the mess she was making.

“How else is she going to learn how to handle those filthy humans?” Arlong scoffed. Jinbe frowned a little, Hatchan speaking up in a soft voice.

“You do remember she’s half-human, right?” Hatchan asked uncertainly.

Arlong huffed, rubbing Melody’s back as she babbled into the now thoroughly wet clump of hair in her mouth.

“Half-human—bah!” Arlong rolled his eyes. “She’s mine now, no half-nothin’!”

Wherever Melody came from… well, it didn’t matter anymore. She was his now.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Living Up To The ‘Legacy’ ✈️ Epilogue | Top Gun Maverick Series

Takes place following the events of TGM

Read the series here -> Series Masterlist | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell (romance), Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x daughter!OC (platonic), Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin (platonic), Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floy (platonic), Lt. Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace (platonic), pretty much the rest of the characters are platonic.

Content Warnings: MAJOR Fluff, profanity, light angst (one scene) but literally fluff all the way. Suggestive content, innuendoes. | Female OC (she/her) | wc: 10.1k

Premise: It’s been a long road since the Uranium mission, but a celebration is in order as Bradley Bradshaw and Barbara Mitchell come together to tie the knot for the second and last time ever, to finally start their future with friends and loved ones by their side.

Note: OMG I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS THE ACTUAL END!!! Lowkey crying right now 🥹 thank you all so so much who have been there since the beginning of this series and have liked, commented, reblogged, sent me messages of kind words and given me all the support. Thank you for waiting patiently as updates come (I know I’ve slacked on some of my other works because I had so much inspiration for this but I’m gonna be getting back to them!) Thank you to all who have followed me and checked out my other works, I’m gonna miss writing for Barbara and Bradley, but who knows what may come in the future. Right now, I will leave their future to your imagination ♥️ I hope you loved this as much as I did and see you in my next work!!

Barbara’s bachelorette party outfit, wedding dress, shoes, ring, veil

“Hey there, sailor.” The beer Rooster was lifting to his mouth stopped short. Turning his head, he was greeted with a pretty blue-eyed redhead smiling at him. There was determination in her eyes, something he often saw when women flirted with him. Not to mention she was leaning awfully close against the bar top.

Dressed in his khaki’s, Rooster flickered his eyes down to where his officer ranks were catching the light. Most civilians would not understand the difference, therefore he wasn’t gonna hold it against her. “Not enlisted, ma’am. The sailors you're looking for look like that,” his finger pointed to a group of enlisted men and women over by the darts table.

“Oh,” she laughed, like she found the joke to be funny. “Even better then. I don’t see many officers coming to this bar.”

‘She must not be a local then,’ Rooster thought silently, keeping his eyes ahead on the crowd in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “Well there’s more than you think. Look for bars on the collar, and you’ll find one.”

The redhead, who he didn’t really care much to know the name of, stepped closer—her perfume wafting in Rooster's face. “Maybe I don’t need to look any further when I have you right here. What’s a lady got to do to get a drink from a naval officer?”

By now Bradley set his drink down, willing himself not to grin when his eyes connected with a certain someone looking thoroughly amused by the scene she was witnessing. The redhead caught his smile, thinking she had cracked him and gave a silent victory to herself.

Without looking at the redhead he goes, “What’s your name?”

“Krista,” she said as flirty as she could muster, a smirk forming on her lips that she may be successful in taking Rooster home. “What’s yours?”

“That’s not important right now,” he tilts his head and points a finger toward the crowd. “You see that woman dancing over there, Krista? With the gorgeous white outfit?”

Smirk now falling to a confused frown, Krista’s eyes follow Rooster’s gaze where they land on a dark haired woman in white dancing alongside another woman. Black hair fell just below her chin and her tanned body was adorned in a gorgeous white two piece set. The pants flared a bit at the end showcasing white heels with the iconic red bottoms and the top was almost bustier like—giving her assets a nice push. Krista could make out the distinct abs along with some tattoos peaking on her sides. The woman’s body was moving effortlessly to Timbaland’s ‘The Way I Are,’ and at one point began backing it up on the woman who was holding a beer bottle up in the air. When she did this, her head turned at just the right time to connect eyes with Krista, biting her lip as she smirked.

“I see her,” Krista mumbled, slowly putting the pieces together. From her peripheral she could see Rooster grinning, especially when the woman sent him a wink all while dancing on her friend. “Who is she to you?”

“That’s my fiancé, Barbara—who I am wifing up tomorrow,” Rooster finally turned to Krista, giving a shrug at her upset look. But he didn’t feel sympathy. There were plenty of single men in the bar she could find. “She’s the only I’m buying drinks for and gets to take me home tonight.”

They were getting married. Tomorrow. No wonder she was wearing white.

“O-oh.” Embarrassed and a little humiliated after noticing the bartender, Penny, was trying to hold back her laugh—obviously aware the man she was flirting with was off the market—Krista backs away. Her eyes find Barbara’s, finding the diamond ring on her left finger when she brings her hands up her body and over her head. It was catching the light and sparkling for everyone to see.

Face red and wanting to get as far away from the counter as possible, Krista spits out an apology before scurrying away back to her friends. They immediately bombarded her with questions like, ‘what the hell happened?’ ‘Did he seriously reject you?’ ‘Girl, there’s so many other hot guys here—don’t let it get to you.’ ‘I saw him point at that woman—who was she—his girlfriend?’

Rooster just shakes his head with a light laugh, going back to sipping his beer as he watches Barbara dance with Phoenix, Halo, and some of the partners of their colleagues. Penny comes over with another bottle when she sees his was almost empty, “Well, that was entertaining as always. What’s that, the third tonight?”

Rooster thanks her for the beer, downing the last bit of contents of the one in his hand. “Yup, how many has she had?” At that moment he notices another guy, a civilian, approaching his fiancé. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but like Rooster, Barbara doesn't even make eye contact with the dude until he says the magic words.

“That dude makes number four since she got on the dance floor,” Penny says, behind her Barbara is pointing to Rooster—who lifts his beer in cheers at the dude who now has the same expression as Krista did. “If you count the other two before you got here then it’s six. Most of them have already left.”

Rooster chuckles as he thinks, ‘not surprised.’ The years they were dating and first married, the two would always enjoy going to the bars with their friends and being on opposite sides just to watch the other reject patrons who tried to pick them up. It started off as something funny and broadened to almost a monthly ritual. Bradley would chill at the bar or pool tables with their friends while Barbara danced with Nat or whoever wanted to join her. It never failed, they always had at least one or two people approach.

Neither felt jealousy for they trusted the other and would never openly entertain the person flirting with them. They’d give the guy or girl a minute or two to say what they wanted, then they would point out each other to them and say things like, “That’s my man/woman and I plan to wake up to his/her face tomorrow morning. So try someone else, pal/ma’am.” Sometimes Barbara would take it further by saying something sexual to make the person uncomfortable. It always worked.

Speaking of, Barbara must’ve said something to fluster the poor guy because he was now red faced and nodding. Rooster could faintly make out the words, “My bad,” leave his lips before his back was turned to him as he stalked off. His fiancé appeared pleased, smirking and turning to face Phoenix who was covering her laugh with a hand.

‘What did you say?’ Rooster read her lips. Since he couldn’t see Barbara’s face, he was unable to read her own, but judging by the wide eyes of Nat who then threw her head back in laughter, it must’ve been good. Nat even went as far as to lightly slap Barb’s shoulder in mock disapproval.

Taking his beer, Rooster said to Penny, “I’ll be over there if she asks for me.” Penny nods, wiping down the surface as he stands from his stool and heads over to the pool tables where the guys were—minus Fanboy since he was dancing with a pretty brunette near the girls.

“The man of the hour!” Hangman shouts, arms out wide as the rest of the guys cheer. It catches Fanboy’s attention, he quickly kisses the cheek of the lady he was dancing with and speeds over to the group. If she was upset she didn’t show it, because next thing she knew she was being pulled by Barbara to join their circle.

Payback patted Rooster’s back, “Excited for tomorrow, Bradshaw?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Jake snorts, “He hasn’t shut up about it all month!” Pink coats the top of Rooster’s ears, moving to sit on the chair beside Bob. “Anyone who has met him in the last two weeks would know in the first five minutes of conversation that he’s engaged.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad thing,” Mickey defends, taking a beer bottle from Coyote. He clicks it it’s Roosters.

“No, of course not,” Jake agrees. “I’m just saying It’s gotten to the point where it feels like I’m the one marrying Barbara because she’s the only topic of his everyday vernacular.”

Everyone laughs and there’s even some murmurs of agreement. Rooster just shakes his head, “Seresin, you wish you could hitch up someone like Barbara. Don’t lie.” He’ll never forget the first time Hangman met her, unaware she was married and tried to enact his playboy charm. The event left Jake with the reminder that if he saw the ring on a woman’s finger, to not even attempt it if he wanted to keep his self-esteem.

“She scares me too much,” Jake says with a serious tone, causing the guys to laugh again. A conversation soon flowed with many discussions about the following day’s events. So far everyone they had invited was going to be in attendance, including the Admirals, the Kazansky family, Penny & Amelia, and some of their friends from previous assignments. The whole detachment would be there, as would Barb’s mother, Charlie. She had landed in San Diego around noon and had gone to dinner with Sarah while Barb and Rooster had their conjoined Bachelor/Bachelorette parties at The Hard Deck.

The ceremony would take place just outside the bar on the beach. Penny, Charlie, Sarah, and most of the bridal party were going to arrive early in the morning to set everything up. After the ceremony they would come into the bar for the after party. There was already a sign outside the establishment stating they were not going to be open to the public in the evening due to a private event.

The last couple months had been chaotic for everyone in Fightertown. After the Uranium mission, Barbara had to deal with the aftermath of her actions. Although Maverick, Rooster, and the team had been praised and rewarded for their actions, none could do much regarding her pending court martial. Cyclone was adamant about going through. Not even Warlock could change his mind despite his best efforts.

The day of the hearing, Barbara was dressed in her Dress Whites, nervously tumbling with her fingers while Rooster paced in front of her. Maverick was seated on the bench next to her, hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Charlie wanted to be there for the trial, but the Pentagon had her on an assignment making her unable to attend. The two spoke everyday with Barbara giving updates on what she could since she was bound to confidentially until after the verdict.

Besides Cyclone, Warlock and some of the ground crew on base, Rooster and Maverick were asked to present statements to the board. Hondo and Phoenix were also summoned, surprising the younger Mitchell since she wasn’t expecting any of the team members to have to give evidence.

Barbara was put on the stand for a good day. When grilled by the opposing counsel, she remained calm and stoic to not let emotions get to her. She spoke honestly, never denying her actions. There was no way she would commit perjury on the stand and risk further consequences. When explaining the steps she took to steal the F-18 and why she did it, Barbara kept her gaze on the jury. She choked up at one point, but overall remained collected as to not appear to be over emotional or play victim.

She did wrong, she was going to own it.

Maverick brought her out of her thoughts when the clock reached another hour of deliberation, “Honey, whatever they decide, just know I’m always going to be here for you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. No matter what happens today, you’re still the best of the best and have done the Navy a great service.”

“Thank you, dad,” she smiled softly, leaning against him when he maneuvered her arm around her shoulder. The words filled Barb with warmth, gratitude at the fact her father would support her no matter what. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, muttering “of course.”

Later that afternoon, the jury had reached a decision. Rooster and Maverick were unable to be in the courtroom. Both embraced Barbara with a hug—Rooster giving her a sweet kiss telling her it was going to be okay—and she followed behind her attorney, the doors closing behind her. When called to attention, Barbara kept her eyes forward, standing as still as she possibly could and mentally preparing herself to not physically react to whatever the judge would read.

The paper was handed to him after confirming with the jury foreman they had reached a unanimous decision. Her heart pounded, the woman breathing through her nose deeply as he spoke, “Lt. Barbara Mitchell, there is no denying your actions were reckless, dangerous, and could have very well have cost the Navy millions in damages and lawsuits if you the outcome was different then the one it was. Any other scenario and you would be discharged from service effective immediately…however,” Barbara felt the air catch in her throat, squeezing her fists tighter.

“After hearing from members of your detachment, had it not been for you and your father’s actions, the mission on the Uranium enrichment plant that remarkably had no fatalities, probably would have been a different story if Admiral Simpson had gone through with the changing of parameters.” In the corner of her eyes, Barbara caught Cyclone’s head falling. He was seated by the opposing counsel since he had been the one to bring forth charges.

“With that being said, the court has spoken. You will be placed on suspension from flying for a time period of half a year; you will be demoted from your rank of Lieutenant back to Lieutenant Junior Grade; and you will pay a fine of a pending supplement to be determined at a later date. Until further notice you are to remain at Fightertown where you will be an assistant instructor to incoming cadets at Top Gun,” the navy judge looks up to give the woman a pointed glance, “best way to keep an eye on ya. My advice would be to please not cut the already half broken string you’re hanging onto. After this there will be no hearing or trial, you will just be discharged.”

“Yes sir,” Barbara immediately says, exhaling with immense relief. “Thank you, sir, and to the court.” After final remarks from both counsels, the judge and jury exits before Barbara is dismissed. She about faces, letting her shoulders drop and moving to shake the hand of her attorney, “Thank you so much for all you’ve done. I owe you.” When she turns to make way to the doors, Barb catches Cyclone's eyes. He looks somewhat defeated, but overall like he expected the outcome. All he does is nod to her, a silent gesture she understood was his way of saying ‘you got lucky this time, Mitchell.’

Fuck yeah she did.

Yeah she was going to be paying a lot of money for the next few years, couldn’t fly until the summer, and lost the rank she had just been promoted to, but at least she was still a naval aviator. At least she was still going to have her job.

In the meantime Barbara was going to have to be a teacher. Mentally she thought, ‘are they sure that’s a good idea? Having me teach at the place that was the reason I was in court in the first place? They’ll regret it.’

Shaking off the thoughts, Barbara hurried out of the room and was met with her father and fiancé practically jumping from the bench. They had seen Cyclone’s face when he exited and it was evident in the looks they were giving her. Rooster was the first to approach her, walking her over to a corner out of prying ears with Maverick hot on their heels.

She waited until they were fully stopped, turning in his arms to face both of them. “Before you start running your mouths, you can both breathe a sigh of relief. I’m not getting kicked out.” Both visibly reacted, Mav going as far as to bend over to put his hands on his knees, “Thank God.”

Rooster embraced Barb, not caring they were in uniform and said the same, “That’s great to hear, baby.”

“Yeah, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows,” she pulled away so she could relay the rest. Both the men understood. While they were sad for her and thought some of it was a little harsh, getting demoted and paying a fine was better than having a dishonorable discharge. “I wanna do something for Phoenix and Hondo. I think their testimony was what really broke Cyclone’s case, especially after you showed them how essential it was to have the parameters you set, dad.”

“Of course,” Mav agreed and Rooster nodded, “We’ll plan something for them.” When Barb voiced her gratitude to them, they both waved her off saying they would do it again in a heartbeat. The three went to a restaurant to celebrate before meeting up with the others to break the news, with Hangman buying a round as the cheers sounded. After calling it a night Rooster and Barbara hurried away—to their now shared home—to celebrate in their own way.

Planning for the wedding was the next step after Barbara adjusted to her new position at Top Gun. She couldn’t fly just yet and instead was tasked with teaching the lectures. Rooster always looked forward to her coming home after work because she would rant to him about the latest recruit who got on her nerves. There was always someone who would interrupt, act cocky, or go on their own. “Remind you of someone?” He would say, to which he received a glare. Several people could fit the description: Hangman for sure, Maverick at any point in his career, and even Barbara herself.

It was decided the wedding would be an intimate event with only about 30 or so people. There was the detachment (12), Barb’s parents (2), the Kazanskys (3-5), Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo and their wives, Penny, Amelia, and four other close friends from previous duty stations. They did not want to have it in the summer because of how hot it would be and instead voted for mid-spring. Penny offered to host the reception/after party at The Hard Deck after Barbara confessed she did not want a church wedding and thought the beach was perfect. And when Barbara pulled out her checkbook asking Penny to name her price, the older woman snatched it saying, “No, this is my gift to you two. There is no charge.”

Phoenix, the matron of honor, went with Barb to pick out her dress—at the last minute too because they were so busy with work it slipped their mind. The first time Barb and Rooster married it was at the courthouse and she literally wore a baby blue sundress with Rooster sporting his usual Hawaiian shirt. “There’s no way I’m trying on more than five dresses, Phee,” Barbara warned, running a hand over the white fabric of a pretty lace number. “I just want something simple. It’s a beach wedding so nothing heavy and a pain to get on and off.”

“Something like this then?” Nat removed a pure silk dress with spaghetti straps and an open back. It flowed down to the floor and was mermaid style meaning it would fit tight when on. It was gorgeous. Simple yet stunning.

“Exactly like that,” Barb breathed in awe, hands going to feel the material. It was so soft—literally like her silk pillow cases. “It’s perfect.” With the dress in hand, Barbara and Nat accessorized, grabbing a veil that had pearls embedded all over it, Christian Louboutin shoes—which were for the after party since there was no way and hell she would wear them on a sandy beach—pearl hair pins, and finishing it with white rimmed sunglasses.

The perfect ending touch.

Now here they were the night before Barbara was set to remarry the love of her life. She and Rooster agreed on having a somewhat conjoined bachelor/bachelorette get together at The Hard Deck. It was Friday night and one of the rare times the Dagger Squad was reunited after the Uranium mission. Several had returned to their squadrons or were transferred to new ones upon promotion. Rooster made it his mission to remain in Fightertown and thankfully his request was granted. He didn’t waste any time, moving into Barbara’s house just days later with the help of Maverick and the guys.

It was a great night at The Hard Deck with the place buzzing with excitement. The guys were shooting pool, playing darts, drinking and chatting when a certain Mitchell finally made her way over to the aviator she had yet to say hi to. Rooster was already grinning when she came around the corner, hands going to his knees as she stopped in front of him, “Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hey, baby girl.” Barbara licked her bottom lip that was coated in red lipstick, Rooster’s eyes catching the movement causing arousal to fill him. He loved when she did that. “Having fun?”

“Oh absolutely,” she slightly bent her body so they were eye level, hands still on his knees that were touching her own. The heels she was wearing made her taller and with her position Rooster got a great view of her cleavage. “The music’s blasting, the night is young. My sexy fiancé has his eyes on me. I’m having a lot of fun.” The glint in her eyes paired with a matching smirk makes his pants go tight. Rooster tries not to react, especially with the heat of her hands on his knees.

“You’ve got quite the admirers, Barbara Mitchell,” he teases, placing the beer on the empty chair beside him. Bob had got up to play a round of pool with Fanboy and Hangman was currently flirting at the bar. Everyone else had either gone to dance or stand to the side to continue their conversations.

“As do you, Bradley Bradshaw,” Barbara gently spread her legs, moving to straddle the man—not giving a fuck he was in uniform and they were in public. Rooster's arms immediately went around her exposed waist, hands resting just above her ass. Her skin was warm under his palm. Barbara clicked her tongue, “Wanna enlighten me on why I got a pretty redhead over at the booths and a blondie by the jukebox sending daggers at me?”

Rooster’s eyes never left hers, though he could make out in the distance the blonde—who’s name he already forgot—by the jukebox with her attention on them. “Probably the same reason why the guy in a Padres cap looks like he wishes I didn’t exist,” he chuckled. The moment Barbara had walked over to him he was already scouting out the reactions of all the people who had tried to hit on them. They all had the same face: disappointment, envy, and bitterness.

“I may have been a little harsh on the jab when he failed to back off. Told him I’d get that bell rung—he wasn’t happy about that.”

Rooster looked proud at that, “I’d expect nothing less from you.” His hands rubbed her sides where her skin was exposed, brushing over the ink of her tattoos. “I’m curious to know what you told that last guy that approached you. He looked horrified when he walked away.” A mischievous smirk appeared on her lips making Rooster tilt his head, “What did you say?”

She quickly changed her expression to one of innocence, “I just told him the same as the others. I pointed you out to him, said, ‘This time tomorrow that man is gonna be my husband,’ Barbara then leaned in so her lips were by Rooster’s ears, voice going low. “And I may have added that you’re the only one who gets to take me home with the promise of coming inside me tonight.”

A sharp breath nearly had Rooster choking, hands now gripping his fiancé. “Fucking hell, Barbara,” Rooster groaned, willing himself not to show his reaction when he spotted Mav entering the Hard Deck. Thankfully the man couldn’t see him from where they were sitting and he beelined to Penny. But still, Rooster didn’t want his soon to be father-in-law for the second time to catch he was five seconds from hauling Barbara into the bathroom to fuck her now that he was sporting a hard on that was making his mind fuzzy. It didn’t help she was pressing light kisses on his neck, gently biting his earlobe as she giggled.

She obviously felt his reaction to her words. She was relishing the fact she riled him up which only made him pull her away from his neck. Rooster gave her hips another warning squeeze, “Tread carefully, baby girl,” he said with a pointed look. “We wouldn’t want to spoil the party by leaving early do we?”

“Would that really be a bad idea?” She challenged, making him groan when she—not so innocently—moved her hips just a tad, her groin brushing over his own. “The way you were looking at me as I dance made me think I’d be in the Bronco by now.”

“As much as I would love to throw you over my shoulder and take you home right this second, I do not want to have to explain to your father why we’re leaving just when he arrives.” To emphasize his point he shifts and pats her ass to get off him. She does so, but before she could sit on the other chair Rooster pulls her back into his lap so her back was to him. “So I expect you to behave the rest of the night,” he whispers into her ear, noticing goosebumps forming along her arms. “Otherwise you’re gonna have some trouble walking down that aisle after I’m done with you.”

Barbara bit her lip, suppressing a moan. Leaning back into his chest, she tilted her chin up so her mouth was beside his jaw, “You say that as if it’s not what I want.” Goddamn it, she was always one step ahead.

Rooster curses, “You minx.” Next thing Barbara knew his mouth was attacking her neck in kisses. She squealed at the tickling sensation of his mustache on her skin, squirming away when fingers began dancing up and down her sides.

“Okay! Okay—I yield! Have mercy!” Her laughter continues to ring out, but his kisses don’t stop. “I’ll behave, I promise!” Finally his attack seizes, the man placing a final kiss to her jaw and pulling her close in a hug.

At that moment, Mav had spotted them, smiling as he approached, “There’s the happy couple.” Barbara’s laugh calmed down but the grin remained, “Hi, dad. You made it!” Tapping Rooster’s hand, he let go of her so Barb could embrace Mav. Rooster took the opportunity to adjust his pants, placing a forearm over his semi-hard dick that was threatening to ruin the night.

“Of course I would make it,” Mav scoffs as they pull away. In his hands was a good sized gift bag, making Barbara narrow her eyes and go, “What is that?” She specially said no presents until the wedding knowing her friends and family tended to go all out and wanted to give them essentials leading up to the day. Her excuse was “we’ve been married before, I’ve lived on my own for three years, we don’t need anything.” She should have known her father would not listen.

“I know you said no gifts tonight, but,” he presents the bag to her, “I believe you can make one exception for you dad.” Huffing, but showing gratitude, Barbara reluctantly accepts the bag with a shake of the head. Her father just chuckles, expecting the reaction and watches as she removes the tissue paper to reveal a shoebox sized Tiffany & Co. blue box. Immediately she stills, “Dad.”

Obsessed with Audrey Hepburn as a kid, she damn well knew all there was about the famed jewelry company. Breakfast At Tiffany’s was her favorite movie growing up. It was her dream to one day own a piece by them and sometimes for fun she would go on the website just to look at the recent collections. The reason she had never splurged on them was because she hardly wore jewelry due to her job. The current engagement ring on her finger from Rooster was the most extravagant thing she owned—and nearly had a heart attack when he presented it to her.

So yeah, as much as she loved window shopping for jewelry, Barbara never spent money on it. She wasn’t even planning on wearing anything to the wedding but the ring and possibly borrowing a pair of tiny pearl earrings from her mom.

Now there was an iconic Tiffany blue box in her hands.

“I remember when you were a girl you’d always want to watch that old sixties Audrey Hepburn movie—and how you begged for a movie poster of it for your eight birthday,” Barbara’s eyes teared up, chuckling at the memory her dad mentioned. She couldn't believe he remembered.

Mav nodded to the box in her hands, “Your mom told me that when you guys went to New York for your high school graduation, you pretty much disappeared and she found you glued to the window of the Tiffany & Co. shop.” Now the air had caught in her throat, realizing that just the week before Mav was in D.C for TDY. He must’ve met up with Charlie without telling her and then took a trip up to New York to go physically to the store.

“She also told me you asked to borrow a pair of her earrings—saying you weren’t going to have any other jewelry on since you didn’t own much,” Now he was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping at the look she was giving him. It was unreadable, but the glossy sheen of her eyes indicated she was becoming emotional.

“You went to Tiffany’s?” The best way to describe Barbara’s voice was that of a child opening up a gift on Christmas to find it was something they wanted all year. “T-to get me..” the words trail off, Barbara looking back at the box to make sure it was really in her hands. That it wasn’t some joke. But no, the box in her hand felt a little heavy proving it was really there. Her heart was speeding at a rapid rate—he really got her jewelry from Tiffany’s.

“I asked Phoenix if she could help me decide what was the best thing to get—since she’s your maid of honor. She told me your veil has pearls in it, so I went that direction.” With shaky hands, Barbara slowly unwraps the ribbon and opens the box to reveal six smaller Tiffany boxes lying inside.

“Oh my God, dad,” she sniffs, aware that several tears have leaked down her cheek. It wasn’t so much the fact he bought her jewelry for her wedding day that made Barbara emotional, it was the message behind it. Pete remembered how much she adored the movie as a child and went as far as to go to the store she admired from afar to get buy—probably worth an entire month's rent and bills—a gift knowing it would make her happy.

She was more than happy. Barbara was on cloud 9. Her childhood heart was crying and so was her teenage and adult self.

Feeling Rooster come beside her, he gently took the box from her shaking hands to hold it so she could individually open each. “Did you know about this,” she accused after catching the wink he sent Mav and how he was looking at her with adoration.

“Maybe,” he kisses her temple.

“I can’t believe you two—especially you!” She points a finger at her father, who grins bashfully. Before she opens either of the boxes she basically tackles Mav in a hug causing him to playfully groan. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, so so much, dad,” she says, her tone mixed between a laugh and a cry. “I love you so much—this is the best gift ever.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” he chuckles and she playfully slaps his shoulder, but doesn't pull away from the hug.

“I don’t care! Whatever it is I’m going to love it because it’s from you and you spend God knows how much for me to have it on my wedding day. You remembered how obsessed I was with that movie and I can’t even think of the words to describe how that makes me feel.” She feels him kiss the top of her head, hands rubbing her back in a comforting way.

Mav often had trouble saying words, but that didn’t stop him from expressing how much his daughter meant to him in other ways. He could remember almost everything from when she was a child—though the times they spent together were scarce and he often relied on the updates from Charlie. Her love for old Hollywood movies and actresses was always a big part of her childhood. There was no way Mav would forget that.

They pull away, Mav kissing Barb on the cheek before she finally opens the first box. It was the smallest of the bunch and revealed to be a pair of stunning pearl earrings with silver backings in the cushion. Instantly she recognized them as part of the Ziegfeld Collection. “Oh they’re beautiful,” she breathes out, taking a finger to brush over the smooth surface of one of the pearls. Then Barbara does a double take between the earrings and the remaining five boxes, snapping her head to Mav with wide eyes, “You did not.”

A blush coats his cheek, the man scratching his jaw to stop from grinning, “When the lady helping me at the store showed me the display, I just couldn’t help myself. I thought why not have the whole thing.”

“You fucking madman!” She exclaimed, covering her face with her free hand.

Maverick bought her the entire Ziegfeld collection from Tiffany’s.

By now Phoenix, Halo, and Penny had come over to see what the fuss was about. They all gasped at the sight of Rooster with a large Tiffany box in his hands and several matching ones laying inside it. “Oh my gosh!” “No way—that’s amazing!” “Nice work, Mav!”

Barabara was literally crying, hiding her face when Rooster used his free arm to pull her against him. She couldn’t describe the emotion raging inside her. Her father really outdid himself—all so she could have something special on her wedding day and long after.

Each time she collected herself to open a box she was met with more tears and giggles. Those giggles one has when they are trying to comprehend what’s happening and can’t help but laugh. Yeah, that was Barbara everytime.

One buy one with the onlookers of her friends and father, Barbara opens the Tiffany boxes to reveal the entirety of the Ziegfeld collection consisting of two pairs of pearl earrings—one studs, the other dangly—a pearl bracelet, and three pearl necklaces—the 5-6mm that went on like a choker, the 6-7mm (which was like the 5-6mm but the pearls were slightly bigger), and the 6-7mm wrap that had two layers of pearls and went down to just above the belly button.

“Jesus Christ, Pete Mitchell,” Barbara groans with a smile, taking the tissue from Penny with thanks to wipe her eyes. There was no doubt her mascara was gone and mentally noted to touch it up in the bathroom. She let out a breath, finally calming down. “I cannot believe you got me the whole damn collection. And don’t think I don’t know how much you spent! I know that the wrap necklace is fifteen hundred dollars by itself.”

Mav shook his head at her words. Leave it to Barbara to know the prices of Tiffany’s jewelry. “How do you know how much I spent, Barbara?” She gives him a look that reads, ‘you underestimate my ability.’ He waves a hand, “Nevermind don’t answer that. But I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?!” She scoffed, “I fucking love it—are you kidding?! Dad—,” she goes to hug him again as Rooster takes it upon himself to carefully put all the boxes together and close the large one so they are safely stored. He then puts it in the gift bag and tells Penny to hide it somewhere no one could find it until they are ready to leave for the night.

“It’s the most thoughtful, amazing, beautiful gift I’ve ever received. I can’t thank you enough for it.” She pulls away to smile and joke, “Now the hardest decision I have to make is which ones to wear tomorrow—since you got me the whole display,” she playfully slaps his chest with the back of her hand as he laughs with her.

“Anything for my little girl on her special day. Even if it is the second one for her, but the first for me.”

She snorts, “at least it’s the same groom.”

The night continues to rage on with the squad having the time of their lives. Mav orders a round for the group, another chick tries to hit on Bradley and is met with disappointment and Barbara tears it up on the dance floor with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Coyote—calling back to the one they had on the beach. Only this time, Rooster cuts in causing their group to hollar with cheers. Though he is not much of a dancer like Barb, the man’s got some moves.

And finally Hangman got his chance to twirl Barb to Elvis’ ‘Hound Dog.’ When the dance came to an end, Barbara out of breath went, “I didn’t know you could swing, Seresin.” Her words are returned with a wink, “I’m a man of many talents, C.”

As the night came to an end and the bar slowly cleared, hugs were exchanged with the promise of being on time to the wedding. Ubers were called for the ones who had too much to drink. When Barbara went to close her and Rooster’s tab she was met with, “It’s already been paid, honey,” and a wink from Penny. She made a mental note to do something nice for the woman once she returned from the honeymoon.

With the gift bag in hand and heels in the other, Barbara gave one last hug to her father and Penny after saying goodbyes to everyone else. Rooster was just finishing up with the guys when he took her hand and led her to the parking lot.

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?” Rooster asked, practically lifting her into the passenger seat. She wasn’t drunk but after a few cocktails she did feel a little tipsy. She had just started to sober up as they reached the final hour of the night.

“So much fun,” she buckled her seatbelt, gently turning to place the gift bag containing her new jewelry in the back, before turning to him. Fingers went up to the color of his uniform shirt, pulling him close so their mouths were barely brushing against each other, “But now I’m looking forward to our private party, Lieutenant.”

Chills appeared on his arm, the tightness in his pants returning. He saw her smirk, no doubt catching the hunger in his eyes. She flicked her tongue against her lip adding, “was I a good girl tonight? Or do you feel the need to punish me? I’m hoping for the latter.”

His hand came to her thigh, gripping it as he brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Which was the complete opposite of the words leaving him that had Barbara clenching her thighs together as familiar moisture gathered between them.

“I’m going to take pleasure in watching you struggle to walk down that aisle, babygirl.”

“You ready, dad?” Barbara clutched onto the small bouquet of daisies in her right hand with her left on Pete’s elbow. Butterflies consumed her stomach as she watched her friends take their seats.

It was a truly beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky as the sun shined down on the scene before her. Penny, Phoenix, Halo, her mother, and everyone who was involved in the planning did an amazing job decorating The Hard Deck and the area leading onto the beach. Chairs were laid on either side of the white fabric laid on the sand to represent the aisle. Off to the side (as per military wedding tradition) were the flags of Barbara and Rooster’s unit and to the left of them was the American Flag. There was a wooden platform at the end where the officiant and Rooster stood. The man looked handsome as ever in his Dress Whites.

One one side of the aisle were members of their found Top Gun family. Cyclone and Warlock were seated at the front with their wives and the remaining daggers behind them—also in their Dress Whites. On the opposite side Charlie sat at the front with an empty chair reserved for Mav beside her. Penny and Amelia sat at the end with Theo laying on the sand beside their feet. Attached to the dog’s back was the cushion holding the wedding bands.

Between Maverick's seat and Penny, two framed pictures stood tall.

Goose and Carol. Who were there in spirit.

Barbara insisted on having the pictures of their loved ones who had passed in the ceremony. She nearly fired the photographer when they suggested it would look better to have the empty chairs off to the side instead of in the main gallery. It was the only time she ever displayed the stereotypical ‘bridezilla.’ “Absolutely not. I want his parents beside mine and that’s final. I do not care if it looks odd with spaces in the photos. I’ll find another photographer if I have to.”

The Kazansky’s were behind her parents—where a picture of Ice was placed on the seat next to Sarah.

“You’re asking me that, honey?” Mav scoffed, adjusting the collar of his uniform.

“You look a little red,” she points out. Maverick had been quiet the second they got to the area just out of sight from the doorway where they would enter. Barbara shoved a couple tissues into his pant pocket, causing him to playfully glare. “Just in case,” she winked.

“Stop it. I’m not gonna cry.”

‘Sure you’re not, old man,’ she silently thought. Just ten minutes before she caught him rubbing his eyes after they did the first look.

At that moment Phoenix was approaching them from the side. The brunette looked beautiful in her lavender pantsuit with hair curled down and matching pearl pins like Barbara. There had been no strict dress code really, but given it was a Navy wedding the Dress Whites were mandatory, however, since Nat was Maid of Honor (and Best Woman) she was allowed to wear what she pleased.

“Almost showtime, C,” she beamed, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Is it a bad time to throw up?”

“Oh stop it,” Nat fixed the veil and adjusted the pearl necklace. Barbara had decided on the 5-6mm single strand necklace with the studs. The bracelet was clasped on Barb’s left wrist. They were the perfect compliment to the look since Barb was going for a timeless and soft appearance with her hair and makeup. Since she didn’t have pockets in the dress, Phoenix was holding onto the sunglasses she would need for pictures and the after party. “This isn’t your first rodeo.”

Barbara’s face was incredulous. “Nat, my first wedding was at the courthouse with you, Rooster, and my mom. We literally drove up like it was a drive thru, got married—no rings mind you and the guy looked like he had just woken from a nap—then went to Chili's to catch happy hour.”

Nat puckered her lips to not burst into laughter, but Barbara’s expression had her falter, the two falling into giggles as they replayed the memory in their minds. Mav just shook his head, though he could be heard chuckling at their antics.

“Okay-okay, you make a fair point,” Nat wiped under her eyes, calming down since she was about to kick off the ceremony. “I shouldn’t judge since this is technically like your first wedding.” Barbara made a sound of agreement that was teasing, and Phoenix quickly made any last minute touch ups to her friend before checking the time. “Well, C, it’s time. You look absolutely stunning,” she gently takes Barb into a hug, careful not to mess up the veil. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.

“Thank you for everything, Nat.” Barb squeezes her hand before she goes. A soft melody begins to play from the speakers causing the guests to turn in their seats. Nat winks at Barb before taking a breath and walking out the opened door. The pair watch her disappear down the aisle, Barbara clutching the bouquet and her dad's arms a little tighter when the instrumental tune of ‘Turning Page’ reaches her ears. “Don’t let me fall, dad.”

“Never, honey,” Mav sniffs, already getting emotional as he places his free hand on top of the hers. “I love you so much.”

Water lines her eyes, “I love you too.” The guests stand in their seats, all turned to face Barbara and Pete as they step out the door. The only person capturing pictures was the photographer who also had an iPad set out to record a video. Barbara silently thanked whoever above she had friends and family respectful enough to not have their devices out.

When she met Bradley’s eyes, it was as though time had stopped.

Nearly faltering in her step, Barbara takes a deep breath and continues to hold onto Mav as he leads her onto the aisle. It takes everything in her not to react when she catches Rooster wiping his eyes, there’s even a slight tremor in his hand.

He’s not the only one overcome with emotion. Charlie, Sarah, and Penny all have tissues in their hands, bringing them up every once and while to remove moisture from their face. The dagger squad is beaming at Barbara. Even Warlock looked happy, which was comical next to Cyclone’s stoic expression—he does give a nod to Barbara though when she passes.

Mav stops when they reach Charlie, Barbara moving to embrace her mother who kisses the side of her head. “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mama.” They approach the wooden platform, Mav helping Barbara up with Phoenix coming to fix the skirt of her dress so it didn’t catch anything. The crowd and Rooster laugh when Penny tosses Nat Barbara’s shoes, the bride waving a hand while saying, “nothing to see here folks,” as she changes out of the sandals designated for walking the aisle. Luckily the song had ended at that moment.

Finally Barb hands Nat the bouquet and takes Mav’s arm once more. They approach Rooster, who still is chuckling at his soon-to-be-wife-again antics, and wait for the officiant to begin.

“Who gives this woman away?”

Pete turns to Barbara, beaming with tears in his eyes, “Her mother and I do. And those we love who are no longer with us.” At the instruction of the officiant, Maverick hands over his daughter to Rooster, but not before pressing a kiss to her cheekbone. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Thank you, dad,” she whispers, kissing his cheek in return and watching him go take his seat beside her mother. Rooster gently brought her to stand before him, his voice going low to say, “You look marvelous, baby.” A blush forms on her cheek, the woman sending a wink, “The same goes for you, pretty boy.”

The officiant makes the opening statements. All the while the two never stray their eyes off each other even when they laugh at snide jokes made during their vows. Rooster could barely keep it together at times and just wanted to swipe Barbara off her feet. When it finally did come time to kiss her, a squeal left her as Rooster wasted no time by dipping her back and planting his mouth to hers.

Cheers and claps sounded around them followed by the snapping of the photographer's camera. Maverick was blowing his nose into a tissue, not caring to hide his emotions anymore. His little girl was married….again, but that’s not important. It filled him with absolute joy seeing her so happy and with Rooster nonetheless.

The guys were cheering the loudest, Payback even bringing his fingers up to whistle causing Barbara to giggle into the kiss. When they pulled away she was nearly out of breath. “Well that’s one way to take the air from a girl.”

Rooster smirked, kissing her again before pulling Barb up to stand straight, “Had to throw you off your feet somehow since you managed to walk perfectly fine.” Heat consumed her, the woman having to turn away from the crowd as Rooster laughed at her reaction. The cheers become louder as the officiant shouts, “I give you Lieutenants Bradley and Barbara Bradshaw!” At that moment Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, Bob, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale all lined up on either side of the aisle, facing their partner for the Arch of Swords. Together they lift the swords that were attached to their sides in the air forming a tunnel the couple would have to pass through.

Phoenix moves to lift Barbara’s skirt while Rooster helps his wife down onto the sand. The second the bouquet is back in her hands Barbara is hauled into his arms. “Bradley!” Her laughter echoes, the man holding her close as he walks them through the tunnel of swords before placing her down when Harvard and Yale drop theirs to stop them. The couple kiss, camera capturing the moment and the pilots lift the swords back up for them to pass.

The rest of the guests follow behind them into The Hard Deck where the remainder of typical wedding traditions follow. They had their first dance, Mav and Barb shared a father-daughter dance while Rooster danced with Charlie. Rooster presented Barb with a ceremonial saber for them to cut the cake which made for great pictures. Champagne was popped and poured on the tower of glasses Penny had put together.

The party was in full blast with everyone dancing, singing, taking photos, and overall having a grand time. There was even a photo booth Barbara didn’t know how the hell got there—when asked she missed the way Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy were high-fiving in victory behind her. She and Rooster were the first to use it with the two making silly faces and kissing in each snapshot. She and Phoenix had one together before bringing Halo and Payback’s wife in. Rooster took several with the guys and they were hilarious. Each time they had done it, one of the four pics appeared blurry because they had trouble fitting everyone into frame.

Barbara’s favorite photos were the ones with her parents. Maverick and Charlie were on either side of her with the two kissing her cheeks, wearing sunglasses while doing blue steel, and just smiling wide for the camera. She even did one with Penny and Amelia before the night was over.

Speaking of Penny…she was the one to catch the bouquet. Maverick’s eyes went wide and Barbara saluted her drink in a cheer, winking to show it was intentional. Even Charlie was in on it, the two women clicking their glasses and silently making bets to see how long Pete would take to pop the question, “I give it a year.”

At one point she was pulled away by the photographer for some single shots—which she made sure to have her sunglasses on in several. Then there were ones with her parents, the guys of the Dagger squad which was chaos in itself, just her and Phoenix, the Kazansky family, the Admirals, and finally some couple shots with Rooster. He thoroughly enjoyed the ones with her on his lap or kissing her.

And it wouldn’t have been a party with Barbara Bradshaw in attendance if she wasn’t on the dance floor. She didn’t know how her feet were not hurting after nearly an hour of strictly dancing with pretty much every guest. All the women belted out the lyrics to Cyndi Laupher’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,’ and Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody.’ The guys were rapping along to Kendrick Lamar and Post Malone. When Ritchie Valen’s ‘La Bamba,’ started to play, one nod from Fanboy and the two were spinning across the floor to the claps of their friends.

As the night drew on, Barbara found herself on the deck for some air. The sun had set and stars lined the sky with the calming noise of the ocean waves. Barbara closed her eyes with a deep inhale, letting her mind drift to the memories of the past couple years.

It had been a rollercoaster. That was the simple way to describe it.

This time last year Barbara was a single woman not believing for once she would get a second chance at love—with Rooster at that. She was sure their time was of the past despite the longing in her heart to get him back. Then there was the fact she hadn’t spoken to her father in years, mostly out of shame and personal resentment that he really wasn’t at fault for. Ice was alive and doing everything he could do to keep Barbara out of trouble.

Things were completely different.

Rooster was her husband again, Pete was in her life where they spoke almost on a day-to-day basis, and Ice has passed on. There was also the fact she was back to LTJG when this time last year she had just pinned on Lieutenant. But she would get it back. She was determined to.

“What’s that smile for, Mrs. Bradshaw?” The presence behind Barbara follows the voice, the woman turning to meet her husband’s loving gaze.

“Just thinking,” she replied, leaning against the railing as his hand came to brush the hair from face. The veil had already been removed and safely tucked away.

“About?”

“You. Us. Everything,” she lists off. He chuckles, moving to take a seat on one of the chairs and gently bringing her onto his lap, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

“All good things I hope,” he says against her temple, kissing the warm skin. She nods against his touch, fingers brushing over his medals and ribbons.

“It’s always good. Even when I think of the bad times I’m reminded of all the good that came after it. When I think of the regret from not talking to my father all those years, I know to cherish the fact I have him back in my life. When I think of being demoted, it gives me the motivation to earn it back. When I miss Ice, I think of how proud he would be of us all,” her eyes flicker to his hazel-brown ones, shifting her body so she was straddling him. Her hands cup his cheeks, pressing their chests together, “And when I think of what happened between us, it fills me with bliss that we have a second chance. I’m grateful each and everyday to have you by my side. To love and adore you for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Rooster sighs, winding his arms around her waist to cradle her. The fabric of her dress was smooth beneath his palms. Rooster kisses her with all the love and passion he could muster. Taking her breath away like he did on the altar. “You don’t understand how I wake up each morning and thank God you’re there. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because I still think it’s a dream,” his thumb wipes away a tear that fell on her cheek.

“You’re the only person I want to walk through life with. I want us to have that house we always talked about with dogs and a bunch of kids. I wanna hold your hair back when the morning sickness hits and be your shoulder to cry on. I want it all with you, baby. Always have. And I hope when we’re old and gray, that I’m the one to go first because my heart won’t take living on an Earth where you’re not there.”

The tears began to fall at a rapid rate, Barbara’s bottom lip trembling, “We’ll go together then because I can’t imagine waking up to an empty bed without your arms around me. You’ll take my soul with you so expect me to be not far behind.” She wiped away his own tears, closing the gap between them—her arms going around his neck while his own tightened on her waist.

When they pulled away she kept her mouth close to his, whispering, “I want all those things too. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted them with.” His left hand goes to cup her cheek, the metal of his wedding ring cool against her skin.

“Then let’s have them, Barbara Bradshaw.”

Twenty-Three Years Later

“It is my honor to welcome you all to the graduation of the Naval Academy’s Class of Twenty-Forty-Two! Let me start by thanking all the parents, siblings, grandparents, friends, loved ones and anyone else who came out today to celebrate this milestone for our graduating cadets….”

The brown curly haired boy teenager with bright emerald eyes like his grandfather, leaned over to whisper to his mother, “How long is this going to be?” He was received with a look of disapproval, reading, ‘are you serious right now?’

“The ceremony just started, Nico, have some patience and respect. It’s your sister’s college graduation for God’s sake! In two years we’ll be doing the same thing for you and five years after that for Tommy.” She turned away from him, eyes scanning over the football field to find her daughter in the crowd of her peers. With it being alphabetical, she should have been seated near the front.

Tommy, the fifteen-year-old in question with dark locks like his mother and brown eyes, snickered and nodded to the stars on her collar, “Maybe by then you’ll be a four-star Admiral, mom.”

“Don’t challenge her, Tommy,” their father playfully scolds, though there is a smirk on his lips. “She just made Vice last month after only being Rear Upper Half for two years.” His own three-stars on the collar of his uniform reflected against the sunlight. He had earned them just four years before.

“What can I say,” she leans back in her seat with a smug smile, “getting demoted made me an overachiever.”

He takes her hand and leaves a kiss to her knuckles where her wedding ring lay, “One of the many things I love about you, Barbara Bradshaw.”

Thirty plus years of service, combat medals, citations, two marriages to the same man, three kids, and a career that would go down in history, Vice Admiral Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell-Bradshaw would be a name forever known in the world of naval aviation. Just like her father and his father before, the best way to put it all into one word would be distinguished.

It had been some time since she last soared the skies after accepting the promotion of Rear Admiral Lower Half. Like her father, Barbara was tempted to remain a Captain for the sake of flying, but her children were either in or entering their teen years at the time and Barbara knew she needed to accept her time as a pilot was over. The main reason she held anger for Maverick as a teenager was the fact he continued to stay a Captain to stay in the air. The decision made him miss several important milestones in her life, and when Barbara came to him after it was possible she would get the promotion he advised her to take it, noting it had been one of his biggest regrets to not be there for her when she needed him most.

“CeeCee is gonna be fifteen this year, honey,” he said to her with a knowing look, “You know how it was for you at that age. By then you had already started resenting me for the little things that soon added up. Nico is thirteen and little Tommy just turned nine—I know it’s been easy having Rooster always there now that he’s been Upper Half for a year now, but you know how the Navy is.”

It opened Barbara’s eyes a lot, cursing at herself for nearly letting history repeat itself. The next morning she was calling to accept the promotion after telling Rooster, who was in full support and spun her around like the proud husband he was. “Welcome to the star club, babygirl.” Their kids were very pleased, with teenage son Nico already bragging how both his parents were Admirals.

She made a mental note to teach him not to be arrogant when it came to others. Growing up the kid of a naval officer, Barbara had her fair share of friends who tended to be stuck up because their parents were a higher rank than hers. They were even worse to the enlisted kids. She was not about to have her kids be like that.

And to pat herself on the back, she and Rooster did a great job raising their children. CeeCee, their oldest and only girl, was born a year after their wedding. Like her mother she loved to dance and had a talent for ballet. It surprised the couple when she announced she wanted to follow in their footsteps and become a Navy officer. The two had always made it clear early on they would support their children in whatever endeavors they desired when it came to their future. Never did they put pressure on the Navy, aviation, or even college.

“I wanna be a pilot,” she said over dinner during her sophomore year of high school. The forks in both Barbara and Bradley’s hands clink as they hit the plates.

“You do?” They both said with surprise, causing a light blush to appear on their daughter’s cheek.

“Yeah,” she nudged the carrots on her plate, “I always loved flying when you two would take us out in Grandpa’s plane or to the airshows. Guys at my school try to say women aren’t meant to be pilots, but mom and aunt Phoenix are prime examples that’s not true. I wanna prove them wrong in my own way.”

Nico, the ever supportive little brother, says to her, “I think that’s badass,” he ignores the looks of disapproval from his parents, “You might even get a cool callsign like ‘Legacy Junior’ or 'Swan.’ Keep the birds running in the family, you know?” Even Barbara couldn’t hold back the smile at that. Rooster appeared all too pleased at the thought.

“What about you then, Nico?” CeeCee scowls, though part of her actually liked the callsign he thought of. “What would your callsign be? If we’re keeping the birds in the family, like you said.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna be a pilot—no offense mom and dad,” they both laugh and say ‘none taken,’ He takes a bite of his food before continuing. “But if I did it would be something cool like ‘Falcon,’ or ‘Eagle.’ Just so when I land I can be like, ‘the Eagle is landing!’”

The memory of that night was one Barbara would remember for the rest of her life. A happy one, with all her children laughing together as they voiced potential callsign for the newest edition to the Mitchell-Bradshaw clan of aviators. Rooster and Barbara shared a loving gaze, no doubt thinking about how blessed they were. That year they had celebrated sixteen years of marriage and one year of Barabara becoming Rear Admiral Lower Half.

Barbara was in paradise.

Now here she was, seven years later, at her oldest child’s graduation from the Naval Academy who would soon be off to flight school. Her husband of twenty three years (add five if you wanna not count the three year period they were divorced) sat beside her with their sons on either side. Three stars pinned to her collar and the position of air boss when it comes to special missions going through Top Gun.

How’s that for a girl who lived up to the Legacy?

……………….

Tag list ♥️: @multiple-fandoms-girl, @maverick-wingman, @sgt-huntersupremacy, @the-winter-marvel33, @justanothermagicalsara, @calicokel, @lydia-demarek, @alanadetigy, @shrimping-for-all, @chaoticassidy, @nemtodd-barnes1923, @bradleysgirl, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @mak-32, @persephonehemingway, @candid-confetti

Thank you all so much for your support and patience. This epilogue is for you.

[innerchorus]

If we'd had a new chapter of ArSen this month it would've been released yesterday. It's not quite the same thing but maybe I can try to soften the blow a little bit by sharing a (very old) snippet of fic featuring some implied Kubard/Shapur.

Kubard walked towards the row of stables, stretching as he did so and stifling a yawn. The morning sun was bright in his eyes. As he passed under the stable’s awning, Shapur’s chestnut stallion snaked its neck over the door of the stall, ears laid back, as bad-tempered as its rider. Upon seeing that it was Kubard, the ears came forward and the nostrils flared wide.  “Here you go,” he said, extracting a sugar lump from his pocket, not above bribery. Farnaspa, who had been waiting for him in the courtyard, looked surprised.  “Is that…?” “Shapur’s horse? Yeah,” Kubard grinned. “Careful,” he added, seeing his captain begin to extend a hand towards the horse’s muzzle. “It bites.” “But not you, apparently,” Farnaspa said with a raised eyebrow.

Uhh let's see, although I can't remember very well I don't think this was ever supposed to be part of a longer work, just a little scene I came up with that amused me. It's set pre-canon, naturally.

Farnaspa is an OC of mine (it's not his usual timeline, but I felt like giving him a little cameo here)

Kubard bribing Shapur's horse with sugar lumps in exactly the same way he learned to soften up Shapur himself with sweet goods ahaha, but as you can hopefully tell, both the horse and rider have become a bit more welcoming of his presence over time (with the implication here being that Shapur spent the night and hasn't left yet).

There's a persistent myth that chestnut horses are fiery/hot-headed in temperament so it always amused me that in the anime Shapur rides a chestnut, given that I see those same traits in him.