#parachute neck deep

[mypoppunkrevival]

Can you tell I’ve been feeling neck deep lately ? Don’t hate too hard I have never used sketchbook before 🥂

[melooomaniac]

parachute • neck deep

[pop-punk-jaskier]

Neck Deep // Parachute

[trippercrazy]

Neck Deep ( Minus Sam Bowden )

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.2

pt.1, pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again. but, a familair face is here to save the day

word count - 2.2k+

watch it - jude is still an ass sorrehhh. angsy angst and more angst ! ur welcome

-----

You don't know where the hell you are, what time it is. A few more minutes you're going to forget your own name and start screaming to feel something other than misery. So  much for the holiday of love. You are feeling so much love you could jump out of a plane. With no parachute. And land on a pile of rocks. 

You kick a trash can out of frustration and groan at the impact it gives your poor exposed and suffering toes. 

You can not believe the events of today. Everything keeps replaying over and over like a broken projector. The fact that he got you to dress up in your favorite special occasion floor length dress just to have it drag across the grimy dirty fucking disgusting club floor. Oh god you want him dead. 

You're deep into Birmingham nightlife by the time your senses come back to you enough to fish your phone out of your bag. The bag is a birthday gift from your mother of all people forced to be seen among that bunch of people,it makes you seeth. 

You should have known taking you to Birmingham wasn't a good idea. It made no sense in your head, why fly from Madrid to god damn Birmingham. You both live and work in Madrid? Your sweet naive mind thought he came up with something unique, something sweet. 

You groan the second your phone turns on. One too many notifications to keep up with and by the looks of it they aren't stopping anytime soon. Twitter is blowing up, you already know what it is. A bunch of low quality pixels of you entering with him and looking lost with a bunch of tacky headlines. You'll get that settled when you get home. You go to order an uber, but your phone manages to die on you miraculously. How lucky. All the times you spent trying to get a hold of Jude really drained the battery. You clench your jaw. 

Good god. You shove your phone back in your purse and keep stomping through birmingham. Shivering with each step. You didn't bring a jacket, how foolish.

You try to follow streets you think you know, but it's not going very well. There aren't very many people this far out. Leave it to fucking Jude to take you to the worlds more obscure club location. It's been about an hour since you left him at the club you think. An hour of walking through alley ways and neighborhoods that only raise the hair on the back of your neck. He couldn't even get you a ride home?

You think the last person you saw was a nurse chucking coffee at a bus station, the bus that you tried to catch but it sped away faster than your aching legs could take you. Better night than yours you're sure. You wander about trying to find at least a store open to be able to call for a taxi. 

You hear the crunch of slowing tires come up behind you, and you instantly quicken up your pace. You almost swear you hear your name shouted, but you don't stop. The second time, it's a little too clear to be mistaken for anyone else's name as the car comes to a crawl side by side to you. 

You turn on your heel harshly, “why in god's name-“ your voice dies the moment you recognize the familiar car model, and its driver. Trent. Oh.

“Get in the car." he dead pans, windows rolled at the way down, door already unlocked for you.

You wrinkle your nose, “I don't want to talk trent." 

The very last thing you need is that sorry excuse of a man to send his friend of all people to run after you and do his bidding where he fell short just hours before. This is so embarrassing it only makes you wish his car would explode. And then drive it into the club. While it's on fire. 

“I'm not letting you roam around these parts at this time, just get in." he sighs. 

You scowl, "he’s low for sending you to change my mind, after this whole fucking night why cant you leave me alone."

He gives you a look, “this has nothing to do with him, this is me. Worried for you. “

“Fuck off." you spit. 

“You’re so hard headed, just get in the damn car before someone robs you. Or worse." 

"How'd you even know I was here?" you squint at him. 

he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "i still have your location from when i picked you up for his birthday. And I heard about everything from just about everyone. "

"You have nothing else to do on valentines day?" you jab. 

He stays silent, hands wringing the steering wheel. You notice he's in what looks like pjs, Liverpool jacket thrown on top. He drove all this way for you?

You swallow your pride for a moment, hiking up your dress while you duck inside the car. Sighing in relief as the pressure is taken off your aching legs. Snapping your seatbelt over you, swinging your purse over your head and gently setting it on your lap, wiping away the tears that blur your vision. 

Your rage has turned into a simmer for now. The main goal at the moment is to just get out of these clothes and sleep till you forget what year it is. 

Trent is quiet while he lets you get comfortable, rolling up his windows backup and locking the doors. You've never sat passenger in his car before. Hell you haven't seen him in months.

“Did he touch you." he asks, turning the heater on higher.

You put your hand out in front of where the hot air blows oh so nice on your frozen hands,“What?”

“You have a bruise on the back of your arm. Did he do that? “

“No.” you sigh. 

he turns to face you, brows furrowed,“i need to know if he did. “ 

“He didn’t trent, i'm alright.'' your voice softens.

he nods, hands resting on the wheel,“where do you need to go? “

“Just take me to my hotel please."

He nods, handing you his phones to put the directions in. You watch as he takes the car out of park, making a u turn and heading out of whatever bizarre neighborhood you're in, back into the city. And  soon the freeway. Birmingham flashes by you and you try to forget the man that sits like a heavy weight in your mind.

You still wonder why Trent would make the trip all the way out just to pick you up. especially if Jude wasn't involved. You're somewhat close you suppose. The kind where you would call him a friend in a group setting, but not much more. You've spent only a couple of times truly alone. You don't know if you're that close.

 Trent has always been somewhat of a mystery to you. Few appearances and even fewer words. Jude had told you once he was shy, just taking a minute to warm up to new people. He has a habit of staring off into nothing you noticed at Judes birthday party. Always quick to snap out of it the moment eyes were on him. Oh so different from the way he plays. You've seen him now and again in highlights and clips posted on instagram. He's good, but man is he aggressive. You expect it for a defender but the man gets up in everyones space on the pitch.

A complete 180 from the way he can barely look you in the eye now. What is he thinking?

You don't let your curiosity blind you from being at least a little courteous. 

“Thank you, " you mumble, playing with the fabric of your dress, "and sorry for being a bitch.“

“Hey I don’t blame you.” he shrugs. 

You hum and leave it at that. You'll put unraveling Trent on the to do list. 

Your hotel comes into view and you thank him again for the kindness, promising to make it up to him some day. He waves you off, seeing till you're inside to leave. 

Your mind is so blurred you can barely stand anymore, every step only throws you off balance. You need your bed. Asap. Or you will fall over and die.

The hotel's heating is a welcome treat as you beeline for the elevator. The staff give you a strange look but you do NOT. have the time for any of that. Right now all you care about is getting in bed. Can this elevator hurry up? It finally comes and you lean against the metal walls when you step inside, sliding your purse lazily over you.

You all but tear your clothes off the second you make it inside your room, in a rush, wiping your makeup off while you undo your shoes, hobbling around with one foot while you dig for your pajamas. You end the night with a trip to the bathroom. Skipping on your usual night routine and just settling for a quick shower and brush of the teeth. 

Hotel covers have never felt better, warmer, safer. 

In the quiet of the room and the hum of the ac, you can't but let your thoughts consume you. Can't help but circle back to him. Why?

Why weren't you enough? Why did it have to end in fucking flames on whats supposed to be the most romantic love filled day of the year. 

You think back of every moment and piece of you shared with Jude. You remember the first time you kissed you, under the stands at his first madrid home game, clutching onto his jersey like a lifeline. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Gently holding your hand all the way back inside the building. Mumbling confessions and making you smile with every cheesy pick up line.

That jude is gone now, instead replaced by the man who you have to fight for even a second with. But are expected to drop all for. A selfish bitter man. 

It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, you can rest now and deal with the inevitable fall out as it comes. You know you're more than enough, but with the way you let yourself be treated it's hard to let yourself believe that. 

Never again though. From now, you're swearing off footballers. 

—--

You wake up as early as you can manage, getting all your things together and booking a flight out of here as soon as possible. You need to get back to madrid.

Your headache is massive as you shove the last of your things in your suitcase. You can't believe you took days off for this. Nonetheless, you need to get back. You have a team to get back to and plenty of work to get done. Real Madrid's creative department never rests does it.

Your phone has a slew of missed calls, mainly from Jude but you see a few from Trent, rather recent ones. You give him a call back but it all goes to voicemail.

The key card jams while you're locking it for the last time, it takes a hit from your hand to get the scanner working but you make it out in one piece. Smoothing your clothes down and making your way to the lobby. Sitting down for a few minutes while you confirm your flight details and triple check that you haven't forgotten anything. You hear your name and are greeted again by Trent, who's all but spriting to you. It's a little early for him to be here now isn't it. 

“Can I help you ?” 

“I'm sorry I tried calling and I couldn't answer when you called. Judes outside waiting for you. he-“

So last night really was all just a ploy from Judes end? You try to get up and far far away from him, but he stands in front of you. 

“Listen.  He told me to come and get you out there so you can talk to him and to not tell you. But obviously, I'm not. i’ll tell him you're not here yeah? Take care.”

Trent doesn't leave you with anything else, leaving in the other direction. You take this as a sign to leave while you can, grabbing one of the many taxis outside to the airport. 

—--

Trent gives Jude a scowl, “She's not there Jude, give it up. “

“I can't just lose her. “ Jude sighs, furiously typing on his phone. 

Trent rolls his yees, patience wearing thin,“You’re fucked in the head you know that? After all you’ve done to her, you still want her to come running back?”

Silence. 

“I care about you Jude I really do. But you left her walking around at 3 am with a dead phone in the middle of alleyways dude. That's not okay. “

—--

The airport has never felt lonelier, but you swallow the lump in your throat, boarding your flight home and trying to forget the man that you've come to associate it with. Madrid will be a hard place to move on in, when its walls shine with its star boy. Its halls all but cheering his name. Every corner you're bound to be reminded of him. You can do it, one way or another you won't let yourself be miserable. 

[letsmakepoppunkgreatagain]

Neck Deep - Parachute

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

BOTW Link x F!Reader ~ Pt. 7: Hotter Than Lava (Minors beware below 🔥 marker)

Sweat covered your being from heat to toe.

Hair was pulled up into the best style it possibly could be in hopes of any breeze cooling the sensitive skin of your shoulders and neck.

Even your clothing was singed along their hems despite the shopkeeper boasting of them, along with the strange potion you’d consumed, bestowing flame resistant abilities upon the person. The outfit was a bit odd with the near parachute styled pants paired with criss-cross styled upper bodice but it was pretty when paired with your skin color and eyes. Tiny little gems polished to a high shine glittered when you moved, often earning you more attention from people or monsters in passing.

All to no avail.

However, you failed to realize the affect it was having upon a certain golden haired, blue eyed Hylian.

He would pass off the red within his skin as due to the volcano’s heat. Rudania’s rampaging had calmed thanks to his last visit, meaning the lava was now cooled to a more tolerable temperature for others to visit. That didn’t mean one couldn’t feel the powerful heatwaves coming off the mountain itself. The incline was steep, causing you to stumble every so often and for him to help you back upright with a steady hand. When you slipped a minute ago, though, he had used a bit too much force in the pull, resulting in your being full on colliding with his own to the point where your entirety met his and your arm reflexively wrapped around his neck for stability while the other clung to the soaked tunic covering his chest. A rock underfoot threatened to trip him when your added weight made his stance change. It was nearly successful when your softness threatened to distract him. Link promptly placed you back on your feet beside him once sure that you could stand on firm ground then took the lead along the trail.

Leaving you to tail behind.

At this point he would gladly jump out into the lava pools rather than addressing why his body felt as if it were burning from the inside, the memory of your being against his own stoking the embers within his core. Especially when recalling how the top nearly came unclasped…or the sheen of sweat that made your skin glisten…how the waistline of the pants accentuated your curves…

“Oi!” A shout of greeting drew his attention upwards to find a Goron lookout waving.

That must mean the village wasn’t too far away.

And you were looking like that.

One of your arms rose to wipe the sweat from your eyes, only succeeding in making them burn from irritation, blinking furiously to clear all haze from your vision just in time to see him shed the soaked tunic to expose a lean chest built from multiple weapon usage and cross country training. Deep within your being rose an unfamiliar heat that made both your cheeks and core tingle when he began marching over to where you’d stopped to catch your breath. There was a glint within his azure gaze that looked oddly similar to possessiveness, which was odd considering he was not the kind for such tendencies, finding yourself breathless when the setting sun’s golden rays bathed him in a glow that made Link appear as a deity sent from the goddess herself. Mountain air was dry by nature and it being a volcano that you were scaling made it more so but now your entire body felt parched down to the bone marrow when he came to a stop before you, the waistline of his pants slipping due to the accumulated sweat to reveal a toned abdomen that disappeared within a V.

Cloth obscured your vision as something heavy settled atop of your head.

It startled you so much that your reeling arms searched for anything of stability until a pair of calloused hands took gentle hold of your wrists before guiding them through the weighted mass. Those felt oddly like arm holes. A tug came upon it and suddenly your face was inches from his own that was entirely focused upon settling the tunic over your frame.

What’s this for?, your raised brow asked when he finally met your gaze as a grimace crossed your features, and its completely soaked with your sweat! His hands stopped yours from pulling the tunic back up over your head, earning an exasperated groan. “I’ve been covered in mud, blood, and monster guts for the last several days so I won’t let you just use me like some sort of furniture to hang your laundry—” The complaint died on your lips when spotting a change come over the Hylian as he stepped within your personal space, impulsing you to step backwards until rock met your back. Blood pounded within your ears as his blue eyes bore into your own with such ferocity that it stole your breath away and robbed you of any want to object farther as he still came closer until coming to a stop with your heaving chests nearly touching.

Link’s hands that had been preventing the cloth from leaving your form rose to rest a clenched fist and open palm on either side of your head, as if preventing you from escaping until whatever he wanted to convey was expressed. Seriousness radiated from his being that seemed to tease your own with its alternately paced breathing; his exhale was your inhale, resulting in your exhale to become his inhale. A droplet of sweat slid down the bridge of his nose to dangle at its tip before it fell upon your nose where it intermixed to created an even larger drop that disappeared when it swiftly slid along the span of your neck then into the fold that was your cleavage.

He wanted you to wear it, that much was clear now…but why?

Within your mind flickered the thought he may not like the outfit or thought you to be ugly wearing it. If that was the case, then why hadn’t he said anything when you asked if it looked alright before purchasing? There were plenty of opportunities for him to object.

“Brother!” Rumbling caused your gaze to break away from his as a shout came followed by rumbling, eyes widening when meeting those of a large Goron who smiled widely. He seemed a bit startled when finding you within the Champion’s shadow. “Oh, sorry ‘bout startlin’ you like that! I saw something shiny that was behind him and thought it was a tasty snack.”

That’s right! Goron’s like to eat rocks and shiny stones! Your wide gaze met azure, earning a slight huff that said “wear that until we get to the inn”, nodding in both understanding and appreciation. It was touching that he had shed his own tunic to shield you.

Goron and yourself failed to notice the expression of relief passing over Link’s face when he turned away to overlook the stretch of landscape, shaking himself when the fine hairs across his visible skin remained upright in response to the events that had just transpired.

It wasn’t necessary but the Goron led the rest of way to Goron Village. Every so often he would point out sights for you to visit during the stay or recommending the nearby Test of Strengths, which you thanked for all nonetheless, until the mention of hot springs caused your being to perk.

“Oh, ho, I see that last bit caught your attention!” He smiled, delivering a hearty slap to the Hylian’s back. “Best to ensure such a gal’s whims to be fulfilled, brother! Happy wife happy life!”

Red filled your cheeks in unison to Link’s as he straightened like a stone pillar. Say what now?! Your gaze flickered down to your hand where the ring glittered. Why would it earn this kind of attention or assumption?! Several other individuals wore similar jewelry so why were the two of you being singled out?! Feeling Link’s gaze, you could only offer a shrug, I have no idea why they would think that!

Within the consciousness of the hero, several personas shared incredulous glances; this would certainly be entertaining if not enlightening for the young traveling duo. Sky and Time in particular were watching with great interest. Twi, on the other hand, along with Sea Song and Nox, were cautiously optimistic of the possible outcome ahead.

“Ah, the bunch of newlyweds have arrived finally!” A shout came from the inn where an elderly Goron was seen. “I have just the suite perfect for a fine young couple such as yourselves!”

Steam was definitely coming out of your ears as, overcome with shyness as several more Gorons crowded around with interest, you hid behind your blonde haired companion, hands spreading flat against his broad shoulder blades. You reflexively thought cloth would be there but remembered his tunic was donning your figure when it was his bare skin that met yours. And its was as slick with sweat as the rest of him. Meaning that your hands slid from their place until both arms were wrapped around his torso and your cheek met the space between his shoulder blades.

From the Gorons rose a chorus of laughter when he stiffened within your hold, some making comments of how cute the blushing couple were or how each would ensure that the honeymoon would be as perfect as possible. It was impossible for you to see his face but the quickness of his breaths was concerning until every last villager dispersed to leave the two of you alone, the final rays of sunlight disappearing to give way to night as torches were lit and the lava’s glow slowly bathed the rocky terrain in red.

Every so slowly, as if moving too fast would shatter him, your arms unwound until they instead rest at your side. Your gaze darted every which way as a heavy silence fell between the two of you. The stiffness eased from his being as a deep breath was taken until it came out as a faint whistle as if he were attempting to call Epona who was definitely too far to answer. Silence in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary however this one was bursting with uncertainty and hesitation.

At least to you.

For the blond, though, it was filled with suspense. As if the world and universe were waiting to see his next move while at the same time encouraging him onward. Link glanced over to where you were occupied with the tunic’s hem as if it were the most interesting thing in the existence. His hand extended, just as it had when he’d found you, earning a faint smile before yours easily slid into it. It’s getting late, his head’s tilt towards the inn said, I’m sure you’re tired. Calloused fingers belonging to the swordsman and seasoned warrior gradually laced with yours as your exhausted expression spoke volumes when beginning to walk.

Part of him wondered if you’d even notice how his fingers were tracing patterns into your skin.

Another wished you never would.

Unbeknownst to the hero that several shades were nodding in approval of his actions.

“Welcome! Ah, if it isn’t the newlyweds Fugo mentioned! He said they may visit sometime soon!” The elder Goron greeted with a shout, causing you to startle and hand to slip from his own; earning a near disappointed expression from Link that wasn’t missed by the inn’s owner. A wink was sent to the Hylian as you were ushered towards the desk with a large hand. “Right this way, little one, I will ensure your stay is worth your travel! I am more than happy to throw in a pair of special massages on the house as a congratulatory gift!”

Tingles started at your feet then rose up your back. When was the last time you’d had the leisure of a massage? The answer escaped you when looking to Link, earning a nod of encouragement, and you flashed the brightest grin he’s seen yet.

He remained behind at the welcoming desk while you disappeared into one of the back rooms. You deserved this, after everything that’s happened, that smile burning itself into his memory while unconsciously encouraging his own lips to rise. Little did he know that it was one which earned the knowing smirk of a passing Goron.

“What are you doing out here? You’re getting in on this too, little guy.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow when the elder Goron reappeared, taking hold of his arm.

🔥 . 🔥 . 🔥 . 🔥 . 🔥

Bubbling water lapped at your curious toes, earning a blissful sigh from between your lips. Heavy fog rolled off the water’s surface that rose to disappear within a star filled night sky. It was still hard to believe that such a peaceful place like this existed so far up the mountain. Step by step, you entered the natural spring’s depths until coming to a stop when it met your thighs. In the distance was the proud Death Mountain aglow with various rivers of crimson lava, truly a magnificent sight to behold. Luminous Stones lined its borders to mark off the deep ends while providing light for visitors which seemed to dance with the rising mist. The smallest hiss of pain slipped up your throat when a muscle protested against the water’s pull when you took another step. That massage had been glorious, earning several cracks from your tired bones, leaving you as palpable as a Chuchu jelly. It had taken you several minutes to move from that table despite the Goron’s offer to carry you. It was embarrassing enough while hearing exclamations coming from the neighboring room which oddly sounded familiar, leaving your brows to furrow with sympathy, until they fell silent.

A nearby shelf within the rock looked welcoming enough as you slowly walked until sitting gingerly upon its smooth surface. Glorious as it might have been the massage had introduced a whole new level of exhaustion to your aching body. One that left you light headed and twitching as the water now lapped at your collarbone. The jolt of a hiccup nearly sent you backwards if not for the rock’s intervention.

Whatever had been in that drink sure was tasty.

Link was faring not much better as he resisted the impulse to flinch when another crack sounded from his body. Seemed as though that Goron had a little too much fun hearing him crack judging from the deep ache now resting within his joints. Where had you run off to though? He didn’t find you within the adjacent room nor within the suite that was to be used during the stay. There was only one place to look then. Honestly he was looking forward to a good soak.

The door slid open with assistance of his hand, azure eyes combing over the near fog infested area, before entering then closing the door behind him. Still no sign of you. Maybe you’d gone off in pursuit of supper. Goron Village was one of the places he felt comfortable allowing you to wander alone being as its inhabitants were protective by nature and honest to a fault. None would ever think to lure someone into an unfavorable situation.

His hand discarded the towel that had been wrapped around his waist, opting to place it along the spring’s brim, then waded into the water with bliss etched within his features as the near crystalline water seeped into every pore. There were some updates since the last time he’d been brought here, he mused while floating leisurely upon his back; there were various statues carved in different rocks of each race: Rito, Zora, Goron, Gerudo, and Hylian. Each was carved with such detail they looked alive as mist wanted their surfaces, giving them the appearance to be breathing. He came to a pause in front of the last statue, shifting to stand so as to peer into its face closely.

With eyes closed, as if she were leaning against the rock beside her for a moment’s rest, droplets of moisture gathering then trickling down the planes of her face in tiny rivers. The statue was beautiful with the glow of Luminous Rocks rippling across its skin in near hypnotizing patterns thanks to the water’s bubbles. And yet he couldn’t help but compare it to you. It was nothing more than a cheap knock-off to him.

Beneath his foot a stone shifted, causing him to slip forward and arms to reflexively move up to brace himself against an impact against the statue, utter shock taking hold of Link when instead of stone his body met flesh.

Something heavy impacted your relaxed frame, coaxing a soft moan when familiar muscles met your skin.

Azure widened when the lids of your eyes lifted to reveal dilated pupils. What he had mistaken as a statue was in face an actual person! And it was you! He made to move away when the dark blush within your cheeks caused him concern. That was no sunburn nor could it be caused by the spring’s heat. It was the blush of Goron Village’s Fire Bomb, a local specialty. If consumed by a non-Goron, there was the chance of intoxication depending on the person’s tolerance towards higher altitude.

And you clearly had become its most recent victim.

The blonde warrior was snapped out of his internal thoughts when feeling one of your legs rise to lightly wrap itself around his own while a hand drew him closer by means of cupping his face. Suddenly the spring felt too hot as your body pressed itself to his despite his gentlest efforts to keep distance between you. Within his cheeks rose a blush when discovering no towel covered your being as two plush mounds brushed his chest. You felt so divine against his being, as if heaven had become a person, your scent and body farther stoking his blood to boil.

“Link…”

In a wave, every fine hair across his body rose to stand at attention as your breathless moan of his his name filled the air. His arms that had moved to brace his fall found minds of their own much to his shock. One rose to cup the side of your face, just as yours was with his own, while the other fell beneath the water to rest an open palm against the outer side of your thigh. A shiver passed over your being at his touch that brought you even more flushed against him.

“…Link…”

A hum deep within his throat was the only answer he could offer as the softness of you caused a warmth to bloom within his core and chest. Conscious awareness slipped from Link’s disciplined grasp when your lips brushed against his. Every fantasy or assumption of how this moment would play out may as well have been a poet’s musings. This was much more than words, written or spoken, could ever hope to convey. Each of the thwarted attempts he’d made of expressing his innermost feelings came rushing to him in a flood.

This time he would not let anything stop him.

His lips were instantly devouring your mouth with licks and sucks, an occasional nibble. The initial passion gave way to something much gentler when you soft whimpers filled the air. This was your first kiss. It would be wrong of him to simply have at you like a wandering soul in the desert stumbling upon an oasis. Firm presses of his lips gave way to light caresses, soft wet pops sounding when he took brief moments to allow you to breathe before coaxing your lips once more into an intricate dance. Deep within his core rose a raging inferno when your tongue that had been complacent lured his own deeper before the sting of your teeth nibbled the sensitive appendage. Growls rose up his throat as you took the briefest of seconds to bypass his mouth’s gates to brush against its the sensitive, domed roof with the tip of your devious tongue.

It was a window of opportunity he was not about to let slip by.

Groans and moans much sweeter than any fruit were swallowed by the swordsman while you trembled from his wandering hands. The battle for dominance was short, leaving you completely at his mercy, though he suspected you cared little when hearing your broken cry of his name when his hips ground against your own. Your bare skin was so perfect, much smoother and softer compared to his own, coaxing him to explore it farther when your back arched as his calloused fingers crept upwards towards your hip.

What was happening to him? He’d denied the drink earlier when it had been offered, knowing full well that it may just bring about something similar to this, so why did he feel as electrified as a lightning arrow? The way you gazed up at him with those lidded eyes made him feel stronger than a Golden Lynel and mightier than a Titus.

“…Link…”

And the way you were saying his name made the blood within his veins race. Deep within your voice rang need that he wanted to satisfy as you attempted to bring him closer courtesy of a tug. Never had he heard you use such a tone, one that radiated with something so carnal it made something foreign awaken deep inside. The shelf you were sitting on meant that the water was lapping your waist’s curves and he his naval. He was slightly bent at the waist though thanks to that near fall. He attempted to reclaim your lips which had parted from his to speak but was met with defiance glittering within your haze filled eyes.

Instead you earned a choked sound from the Champion when your lips latched themselves upon him.

Sanity became strained as you suckled, the feeling of your velvety lips tantalizing his being when they traversed down his jawline to the built shoulder farther down where you paused for a moment. His breathing that had been rendered to gasps became labored and the growing hardness within his member intensified when teeth nipped at the shoulder.

Primal instinct worthy of a blue eyed beast from legend took hold of Link in that moment.

He easily collected you within an embrace, coaxing your legs to wrap tightly around his torso, as his lips found the side of your own neck, earning the sweetest of cries that stoked the embers burning within his core. The rock became his ally as he forced you against it with a press. Both of your hands rose to paw at his shoulders when his tongue slipped out to briefly taste your skin. A big mistake on his part because it threatened to snap that fine string of sanity faintly protesting against his body’s actions. It was so quiet because it wanted this just as bad as he did.

To be impulsive…

To indulge…

To have you…

“…(Y/n)…”

Hearing your name growled in such a way sent lightning through your veins. The adrenaline pounding through your body made your head spin but there was that throbbing and coiling within your core that demanded to be addressed. It forced your hips to grind against his being in desperation of relief from the pressure. Solid, lean muscle rippled beneath your hands as they wandered from his chest to follow the ridges to his back where they left faint red trails in wake of pawing fingertips, causing the man within your hold to heatedly groan into your ear.

“I feel…” you gasped breathlessly, “…strange…”

Something stiff was rubbing where your tailbone was. It was an odd stimulation however it spurred you to adjust in hopes it would reach somewhere else. Every brush of it along your curves earned mirror whines from both you and the blonde haired swordsman until its tip nestled within the fold that led to your most sensitive area. His name fell from your lips like a prayer when a different sword within his possession, this one made of flesh and blood, slowly sunk farther along the folds it had found.

As it it were wishing to sheath itself.

Need filled your expression and voice as he soothed you with hushed whispers. “M-more…please…”

Despite the spring’s heat the water felt cool when compared to your warmth when it met his sensitive member. Reason was still trying to deter his body from answering your desperate display for physical stimulation. A palm belonging to one of his hands made to push you away, regretfully, however it once again proved to have its own ulterior motives when instead it took hold of your backside to bring you even closer with your flesh spilling between his digits.

So soft, plush in the perfect places as if encouraging his hands to wander more, the arch of your spine causing more friction to build against sweat mixed with the spring’s water moistened skin. No longer did heat belong so the bubbling water as it sloshed against your shifting forms. Hearts which had been beating faster than any drummer could hope to match found unified rhythm when he retreated just enough for your hooded gazes to meet.

Just once…

Your tongue shyly peeked out from its home to brush his bottom lip, coaxing him into an intricate and slow dance that threatened to add stringy saliva to the water below.

…could he…

The same hands worn by many weapons teased your much smoother skin as calloused fingers drifted across each curve, as if he were playing you like an instrument, until one hand found itself cradling the back of your head when its digits tangled within the tresses they found, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His hips angled just a tad, bringing a swollen leaking tip to press against your entrance and earn your eyes to roll upwards as it slowly sunk into the weeping opening it had found, your lips that had parted with an exclamation of his name becoming ensnared by his own. It was such a beautiful sound but the warrior would be damned if anyone else heard the sweet noises you made as he—

“Link?”

His head shot upwards, nearly colliding with yours that was much closer than it probably should’ve been, wide azure darting about the space. When had he returned back to the suite? Blue eyes blinked when your hand met the top of his head for a series of sympathetic pets.

“You were growling and whimpering,” you whispered softly while backing slightly when he sat upright. It didn’t appear as though he had a nightmare of sorts. If anything it nearly sounded as if the warrior was…nearly begging for something. It had been near heart breaking for you to find him clutching the pillow in such a tight hold, his eyes clenched shut, and body beginning to curl in on itself. As if he were in pain. The palm of your hand met his cheek, encouraging him to look in your direction. “My massage finished after yours and I went to look for you but the Gorons said you’d retired to the spring. That’s where I found you unconscious so I had to literally fish you out like a Pordgy.” A faint blush tinted your cheeks when recalling how he had practically melted into your embrace before settling into the bed. If he didn’t remember your trip that caused him to fall on top of you, how you’d nearly shrieked him to deaf when he nuzzled into your neck, it would wound you a bit. Right now that wasn’t important. Your blush darkened when clearing your throat, averting your gaze from the sheet which was tented. “Then I went to find us some dinner. You were fast asleep when I came back. That’s how I found you…well, like this.”

Oh, he didn’t have to follow your gaze, he could feel the raging erection straining against its confinement. Embarrassment made to make him attempt to hide it if not for your gaze which flickered to it when you thought he wasn’t noticing. So pride instead took deep root when your lips parted in awe at the outline which slowly appeared with a twitch of the hidden member. “See something you like?”

A pillow appeared within your hand that was launched into his face with enough force to make him fall back against the mattress, trails of smoke rising from where it made contact with his being. He had the guts to use that sultry tone?! Fine! You could play this game too! The pillow falling was your cue to open the robe more until ample cleavage was visible, pushing out your lower lip in a pout while the tip of a finger tapped against it.

The Hylian’s jaw nearly became unhinged when seeing you posing with a tilt of your head. That pout with a finger against your near quivering lip, the Luminous Stones casting your visible skin in an ethereal glow, legs bent at the knee splayed beneath in a way which showcased how lean they’d become from traveling and the opening of your robe slid farther down until the arch of your supple breasts became visible. Beneath the sheets his erection throbbed with need when you leaned into his personal space. Red tinged the tips of his slightly pointed ears when your lashes batted.

“See something you like…Link?” You purred, winking slowly while deliberately allowing his name to roll off your tongue.

Now he knew this was a game.

Or another dream.

Might as well see how far it would go.

Azure darkened as his hand rose to take hold of your chin, bringing you close enough that his breath wafted your face. “I asked first, (Y/n), now play fair and answer me.” The hitch of your breath when he suddenly shifted backwards caused you to follow due to the hold he had upon your chin until you were hovering over him.

That smirk raising his lips was really beginning to irk you. It was confident, cocky even, as if he thought you wouldn’t do anything more. All hesitation vanished when a near choked grunt sounded in response to your hand appearing upon his chest where it teased the sensitive sternum area with light touches. Oh, you poor man, you internally chided, seems that you’ve forgotten what happened the last time we decided to challenge each other. Probably for the first time since you’ve known him, the Champion, Hyrule’s greatest swordsman, felt all blood within his body rush downwards as the tips of your fingernails slowly walked themselves up the span of his lean torso, inching closer and closer to where the robe’s knot rested against his abdomen. There was no doubt that you could feel something hard rubbing against the curve of your behind, judging from the way you playfully swayed your hips forward then back.

Deep within his throat sounded a groan that he held back by furiously biting his lip when your fingertips toyed with the robe’s fabric, the pressure of your nails tracing patterns causing the fine hairs across his body to rise. Seeing you above him with bent legs on either side of him, the robe donning your figure dipping dangerously low enough to reveal the valley between shapely mounds and noticeably fairer skin than the rest paired with that shadow within your gaze threatened to stir the lingering adrenaline that was caused by his dream. Careful, his gaze bore into your own when you gave an experimental roll of your hips that made the concealed member harden farther, best to not instigate something you don’t plan to end. Bravado and ego swelled when you slowly slid down until your face was level with his hips, moving ever so slowly while ensuring your body tantalized his own by allowing your full weight to rest against him.

The tip of your tongue slipping out to moisten parted lips when purposefully allowing a fleshy sword to become snagged between your breasts. Yet your gaze remained locked upon his steadily darkening blue even when his breathing quickened due to the softness threatening to envelope his most sensitive flesh. What happened to all that big talk?, your raised brow asked. A soft sound of surprise slipped up your throat when one of his legs suddenly moved.

His smirk threatened to return when you visibly trembled as the leg he’d moved met your apex; it was your own fault for not protecting it better and leaving yourself vulnerable to his “attack”. However, what he did not plan on was the near blissful expression that crossed your features when he repeated the motion. Before he himself was aware his body had rolled so that you were underneath, elbows on either side of your head taking care to find foundations outside of your hair’s reach so as not to pull any out, earning your gasp and arch as your back met the cool blanket, the leg not between his own instinctively rising to hook itself upon his hip. Shock gave way to something else entirely as you trembled within his hold.

What was happening to you? The village and spring, not to mention the trek towards Death Mountain, had forced your body to become accustomed to heat. So why was it beginning to break into a sweat the longer Link remained this close? Why were your lungs burning from the inside? And there was an unfamiliar coil of warmth tightening within your abdomen and a hazy fog was slowly beginning to fill your mind.

Maybe you shouldn’t have accepted the offered drink from earlier though something told you that it wasn’t entirely to blame.

All humor left the situation as his breath intermixed with yours, the warmth of his being contrasting shockingly with the special blanket’s chill against your back. What started out as a playful challenge morphed into something else as your much softer being seemed to coax his leaner to sink downwards until he was flush against you. The precious sapphire shards within his eyes glittered as a hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently brushed the skin beneath your eye. Blood pounded within your veins when Link’s gaze fell to your lips.

Was he going to do what you thought?

Disappointment made to raise its ugly head when after an agonizingly long minute he withdrew far enough to assist in you to sit upright. Patience may be one of his fortés but you preferred to take initiative. And you would be damned if the heart in your chest ached with unexpressed emotion fr another night. “I like you.”

All of Hyrule seemed to gasp at your words.

You didn’t let hesitation or conscious awareness of what you’d just done douse the fire which had been lit. “Saving me from the village after a blood moon changed my life but what I feel runs far deeper than what gratitude will ever be capable of. It was chance that led you to that place but it couldn’t have been coincidence that you found me amongst the rubble. Something, or someone, brought us together, Link, and I can’t continue traveling with you until my feelings are dealt with. So please excuse me!”

Blindsided, the blonde Hylian could do little more than blink dumbfounded as you continued to confess how you viewed him as something other than a simple traveling companion. Each word that left your mouth radiated with truth, not that he knew you to ever lie, filling him with gradually growing certainty that you meant every word. Warmth spread throughout his body as you blushed. His hands found your shoulders, earning your words to fade to silence, then leaned forward until his lips brushed your forehead.

Loss filled you. This wasn’t the response you were hoping for. This, in fact, was the worst possible outcome. If he had kissed you then it meant he returned your feelings. He had instead targeted your forehead.

Not your cheek or hand but instead a place often reserved for the parental doting.

“More than a comrade or a traveling companion?” He asked lowly between soft presses of his lips down the bridge of your nose. “And what would that title be?”

Hope flared wildly within your chest when his calm, warm gaze met yours. Words failed you though when the tip of his nose nuzzled yours in encouragement while one of his hands rose to cup your cheek. A tilt of your head was all you could offer, eyes sliding closed when his lips that had been peppering your skin approached your mouth—

“Pardon the intrusion!”

Up your throat rose a shriek, the shrillest one to ever grace Hyrule’s air, before the pillow beneath your hands rocketed across the room’s space to meet the elder Goron’s face who had cracked the door open. Blonde brows rose at the impeccable aim you showcased despite you hurrying to bow and offer apologies; that was one heck of a shot considering your back had been facing the door. Suddenly the blood which had been rushing to his nether region shot upwards to his face when the Goron winked before leaving behind a single mattress.

Meaning that once again the two of you would have to share a bed.

This time was different though.

He now had the conflicting emotions swirling within his chest.

And you were just coming to terms of your own.

However, as some would consider fortunate, that last push was all your exhausted body and mind needed to crash for the night. The golden haired Hylian literally had to catch you before the floor could meet your body. An affectionate smile raised his lips when finding you fast asleep while snuggling into his warmth, moving silently and fluidly until the two of you were beneath the thin sheet, made of Cool Safflina infused fabric, provided that would ensure a restful night upon any who slumbered beneath. Seeing the peaceful expression on your face while nestled within his hold made the heart in Link’s chest squeeze then warm when his name left your lips in the softest of whispers. One of his arms was pinned between you and the pillow, as it had been that first time in sharing a bed, but he would gladly sacrifice its feeling if it meant you would rest soundly. The other raised its hand so as to brush the fallen hair from your face.

Once a stranger now his comrade, a precious companion, someone whose become more dear to him than the warrior thought possible.

More than his pride as a knight…

More than his duty as Champion…

More than his role as Hyrule’s hope…

Nothing could ever hope to compete to what he’s found with you.

Azure ever so slowly inched down to your parted lips. They were less than a breath’s distance away. All it would take would be a bend of his neck or pull of his hand still lingering against your cheek, either would suit anyone in this situation just fine. They wouldn’t be him though. And he would never betray the trust you’ve shown him multiple times.

Instead he drew you close enough so that your forehead met his lips for the briefest of brushes before encouraging your neck to relax then rest against his chest where the heart beating within lulled you to a deeper sleep, his breath fanning your hair which earned him another whisper of his name. “Sleep well,” he murmured, eyes closing as from within his throat rose a tune unfamiliar to any persona he housed, “my precious one.”

It was a lullaby meant only and existed solely for you.

Deep within his psyche came the faintest of sounds sourcing from the personas as if they were sharing a celebratory moment; maybe the young hero of this era would find a happiness after all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 1: Blood Moon Encounter

Pt 2: Distant Howls

Pt 3: Identities Unknown

Pt 4: Rupee Struggles

Pt 5: Between a Rock and a Wet Place

Pt 6: Worthy of the Name

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

the scene where ghost thought könig had fucked someone else fucking killed me that's the funniest shit I've ever read!!! I could fully relate to sneak hardly being able to contain their laughter! I would have failed, honestly. Oh my god imagine if ghost gets them alone some time later and tries to get them to talk about how they feel about this incident... how they're coping with knowing könig's fucking someone else.... I'm dying

It goes a lil something like this…

You’d needed air. It was hell sitting there in the musty bar fighting off sweat with all the thoughts that swirled in your mind. You were still yet to encounter König since his antics in the gym, and all the while, you’d been dealing with the pitying gazes of your team. It was like being the last puppy at the pound, their big sad eyes staring over at you like they needed to unroot your deep seeded pain.

If only they knew what lay beneath the surface, you thought. Not the damp bed of anguish they assumed, but the loose thread of a lie that would unravel to reveal what you’d really gotten up to with your weekend.

You shuddered and stepped away from the table, almost tripping up on Soap just to get past him. They asked where you were going and you barely had time to say ‘toilet’ before you bypassed the door completely and headed out into the cold. You needed to clear things up, needed to sort your head out.

“Hey!”

Your eyes bulged as you’d noticed Ghost’s thundering steps and heard his growl - there was no mistaking him. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying desperately to compose yourself, before opening them and turning to face him. As if the whispering breeze wasn’t enough, the look in his eyes only doubled your body’s inclination to shiver. You wrapped your arms around yourself in protection.

“I’m ok, Ghost, really.”

“You’re not,” he said, jaw holding firm. “I know you’re not.”

“Well you know, as fine as can be,” you said vaguely, trying to get him off your back.

He snorted at that and shook his head. He wasn’t one for bullshitting, but unfortunately for him, you couldn’t afford to serve up much else. Not if you enjoyed where your head was placed - fixed on top of your neck.

“I had to tell Soap what happened and he told Gaz…”

“Of course you did,” you sighed.

Typical.

There were truly no secrets when something like this happened. Especially not when dealing with your scary guard dog Lieutenant. Normally it was useful but in this case? Not so much.

“They all want to kill him,” he said, voice deadly low. “Might end up having a little issue with his parachute on the next air drop.”

You shuddered at the thought.

“That’s maybe a little extreme, no?” You choked.

“Sneaky…no one messes with the 141. He pulls anything like that again and he’ll never be taking that shirt off again, won’t be fuckin’ able to when he’s paralysed,” he said, dark chuckle sounding from low in his throat.

Suddenly what was funny and rather convenient to you earlier, had immediately lost its charm. You had to find König quick. Perhaps risk a quick text…

[kvetchlandia]

Uncredited Photographer Joseph Heller While a Bombardier in the US Military During World War II 1944

Snowden was lying on his back on the floor with his legs stretched out, still burdened cumbersomely by his flak suit, his flak helmet, his parachute harness and his Mae West. Not far away on the floor lay the small tail gunner in a dead faint. The wound Yossarian saw was in the outside of Snowden’s thigh, as large as a football, it seemed. It was impossible to tell where the shreds of his saturated coverall ended and the ragged flesh began. There was no morphine in the first-aid kit, no protection for Snowden against pain but the numbing shock of the gaping wound itself. The twelve syrettes of morphine had been stolen from their case and replaced by a cleanly lettered note that said: "What’s good for M & M Enterprises is good for the country. Milo Minderbinder." Yossarian swore at Milo and held two aspirins out to ashen lips unable to receive them. But first he hastily drew a tourniquet around Snowden’s thigh because he could not think what else to do in those first tumultuous moments when his senses were in turmoil, when he knew he must act competently at once and feared he might go to pieces completely. Snowden watched him steadily, saying nothing. No artery was spurting, but Yossarian pretended to absorb himself entirely into the fashioning of a tourniquet, because applying a tourniquet was something he did know how to do. He worked with simulated skill and composure, feeling Snowden’s lackluster gaze resting upon him. He recovered possession of himself before the tourniquet was finished and loosened it immediately to lessen the danger of gangrene. His mind was clear now, and he knew how to proceed. He rummaged through the first-aid kit for scissors.

"I’m cold," Snowden said softly, "I’m cold."

"You’re going to be all right, kid," Yossarian reassured him with a grin. "You’re going to be all right."

"I’m cold," Snowden said again in a frail, childlike voice. "I’m cold."

"There, there," Yossarian said, because he did not know what else to say. "There, there."

"I’m cold," Snowden whimpered. "I’m cold."

"There, there. There, there."

Yossarian was frightened and moved more swiftly. He found a pair of scissors at last and began cutting carefully through Snowden’s coveralls high up above the wound, just below the groin. He cut through the heavy gabardine cloth all the way around the thigh in a straight line. The tiny tail gunner woke up while Yossarian was cutting with the scissors, saw him, and fainted again. Snowden rolled his head to the other side of his neck in order to stare at Yossarian more directly. A dim, sunken light glowed in his weak and listless eyes. Yossarian, puzzled, tried not to look at him. He began cutting downward through the coveralls along the inside seam. The yawning wound — was that a tube of slimy bone he saw running deep inside the gory scarlet flowed behind the twitching, startling fibers of weird muscle? — was dripping blood in several trickles, like snow melting on eaves, but viscous and red, already thickening as it dropped. Yossarian kept cutting through the coveralls to the bottom and peeled open the severed leg of the garment. It fell to the floor with a plop, exposing the hem of khaki undershorts that were soaking up blotches of blood on one side as though in thirst. Yossarian was stunned at how waxen and ghastly Snowden’s bare leg looked, how loathsome, how lifeless and esoteric the downy, fine curled blond hairs on his odd, white shin and calf. The wound, he saw now, was not nearly as large as a football, but as long and wide as his hand, and too raw and deep to see into clearly. The raw muscles inside twitched like live hamburger meat. A long sigh of relief escaped slowly through Yossarian’s mouth when he saw that Snowden was not in danger of dying. The blood was already coagulating inside the wound, and it was simply a matter of bandaging him up and keeping him calm until the plane landed. He removed some packets of sulfanilamide from the first-aid kit. Snowden quivered when Yossarian pressed against him gently to turn him up slightly on his side.

"Did I hurt you?"

"I’m cold," Snowden whimpered. "I’m cold."

"There, there," Yossarian said. "There, there."

"I’m cold. I’m cold."

"There, there. There, there."

"It’s starting to hurt me," Snowden cried out with a plaintive, urgent wince.

Yossarian scrambled through the first-aid kit in search of morphine again and found only Milo’s note and a bottle of aspirin, He cursed Milo and held two aspirin tablets out to Snowden. He had no water to offer. Snowden rejected the aspirin with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His face was pale and pasty. Yossarian removed Snowden’s flak helmet and lowered his head to the floor.

"I’m cold," Snowden moaned with half-closed eyes. "I’m cold."

The edges of his mouth were turning blue. Yossarian was petrified. He wondered whether to pull the rip cord of Snowden’s parachute and cover him with the nylon folds. It was very warm in the plane. Glancing up unexpectedly, Snowden gave him a wan, cooperative smile and shifted the position of his hips a bit so that Yossarian could begin salting the wound with sulfanilamide. Yossarian worked with renewed confidence and optimism. The plane bounced hard inside an airpocket, and he remembered with a start that he had left his own parachute up front in the nose. There was nothing to be done about that. He poured envelope after envelope of the white crystalline powder in the bloody oval wound until nothing red could be seen and then drew a deep, apprehensive breath, steeling himself with gritted teeth as he touched his bare hands to the dangling shreds of drying flesh to tuck them up inside the wound. Quickly he covered the whole wound with a large compress and jerked his hand away. He smiled nervously when his brief ordeal had ended. The actual contact with dead flesh had not been nearly as repulsive as he had anticipated, and he found excuse to caress the wound with his fingers again and again to convince himself of his own courage.

"I’m cold," Snowden moaned. "I’m cold."

"You’re going to be all right, kid," Yossarian assured him, patting his arm comfortingly. "Everything’s under control."

Snowden shook his head feebly. "I’m cold," he repeated, with eyes as dull and blind as stone. "I’m cold."

"There, there," Yossarian, with growing doubt and trepidation. "There, there. In a little while we’ll be back on the ground and Doc Daneeka will take care of you."

But Snowden kept shaking his head and pointed at last, with just the barest movement of his chin, down to his armpit. Yossarian bent forward to peer and saw a strangely colored stain seeping through the coverall just above the armhole of Snowden’s flak suit. Yossarian felt his heart stop, then pound so violently he found it difficult to breathe. Snowden was wounded inside his flak suit. Yossarian ripped open the snaps of Snowden’s flak suit and heard himself scream wildly as Snowden’s insides slithered down to the floor in a soggy pile and just kept dripping out. A chunk of flak more than three inches big had shot into his other side just underneath the arm and blasted all the way through, drawing whole mottled quarts of Snowden along with it through the gigantic hole in his ribs it made as it blasted out. Yossarian screamed a second time and squeezed both hands over his eyes. His teeth were chattering in horror. He forced himself to look again. Here was God’s plenty, all right, he thought bitterly as he stared — liver, lungs, kidneys, ribs, stomach and bits of the stewed tomatoes Snowden had eaten that day for lunch. Yossarian hated stewed tomatoes and turned away dizzily and began to vomit, clutching his burning throat. The tail gunner woke up while Yossarian was vomiting, saw him, and fainted again.

Yossarian was limp with exhaustion, pain and despair when he finished. He turned back weakly to Snowden, whose breath had grown softer and more rapid, and whose face had grown paler. He wondered how in the world to begin to save him.

"I’m cold." Snowden whimpered, "I’m cold."

"There, there. Yossarian mumbled mechanically in a voice too low to be heard. "There, there."

Yossarian was cold, too, and shivering uncontrollably. He felt goose pimples clacking all over him as he gazed down despondently at the grim secret Snowden had spilled all over the messy floor. It was easy to read the message in his entrails. Man was matter, that was Snowden’s secret. Drop him out a window and he’ll fall. Set fire to him and he’ll burn. Bury him and he’ll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden’s secret. Ripeness was all.

"I’m cold," Snowden said. "I’m cold."

"There, there," said Yossarian. "There, there," He pulled the rip cord of Snowden’s parachute and covered his body with the white nylon sheets.

"I’m cold."

"There, there."

-- Joseph Heller, "Catch 22" 1961

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Fourteen: She's a maneater (But he loves it)

(^^ Literally Duncan whenever your on your meds)

(In case you would like to know, when the intro music plays each episode, you are holding a bow and arrow and are shooting an apple off of Duncan’s head)

Duncan’s body had a sleeping schedule. Unlike you, Duncan didn’t need a thousand alarms to wake him up.

He didn’t even need one. He woke up at six a.m every day and fell asleep at twelve p.m every night. He’d wait until seven-thirty and wake you up.

Today you were woken up by Chris’s plane’s engine roaring above the cabins. Your eyes flew open instantly and your hands reached under your pillow for your pistol, your fingers going straight for the trigger.

Duncan ran into the girls side of the cabin, his headphones sitting around his neck. He had this cloudy look in his eyes that you didn’t like.

But when he saw that you were there his body relaxed and he helped you out of bed. Bridgette had gone outside to investigate the sounds. You laid a bunch of clothes on your bed and Duncan smothered a laugh once he saw them.

“We both know these aren’t your style. Do you want one of my letterman jackets that Chris bought me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “More than anything.” You said with a heave of relief. 

He disappeared before reappearing with a dark green letterman jacket that had ‘Tarun’ stitched to the back.

You slipped out of your nightclothes (much to Duncan’s happiness) and pulled up a pair of jean shorts, a long blue shirt that you were pretty sure was Bridgette’s that you tied at the bottom, and pulled the jacket over your body. You laced up your tennis shoes with a practiced ease and finally asked “How do I look?” Duncan was staring at you.

“...Bad?” You muttered a blush tingling your cheeks. “No, never, you look like a goddess.” Duncan smiled. You blinked before scowling, your cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “Shush.” You kissed his lips.

“Hmph.” Duncan smiled and you both went outside.

You got there just in time to hear Chris yell “Extreme sports!” before a bunch of interns wheeled out a dusty sofa bed for Chef Hatchet to jump on.

“Of course you’ll be skydiving at five-thousand-feet and using these.” Chris said paying no attention to the groaning man whimpering on the now folded sofa. Chris threw bags out into the open which you were 98.99% sure did not have any parachutes in. 

“I’m going to need a lot of alcohol.” Duncan turned to look at you as you prayed out loud to the sky. “Who are you asking?” he said looking around because everyone was focused on the two men.

“God.”

“Our lucky contestants are Trent and DJ.” Chris said with a bright smile. “Oh shit it’s at random.” Duncan paled. “Oh. So today’s the day I kill myself.” You muttered rubbing your face.

“You wish, baby.” Duncan pecked your cheek, he smiled as your face turned a deep shade of pink. “What?” You grumbled. “You're cute when you're that pink.” He smiled and you wanted to punch him.

“I got a reputation, Tarun.” you hissed. “Maybe I’ll ruin it.” He whispered and your entire body turned pink. “Shut up.” You whispered, embarrassed. 

Chef Hatchet began disclosing the challenges. One involved the sofa-bed, another involved riding an extremely angry moose, and the last involved a jet-ski. So, a typical Saturday to say the least.

You laughed when Chris mentioned the moose. “If he’s as angry as me I think I’d be fine.” You said not really worried. “You're in luck, beautiful. You’ll be riding for the Killer Bass.” Duncan didn’t like the subtle flirting… at all. 

Then they announced what the prize was. A chance at a shower? 

“Really? That’s it?” It wasn’t even a private shower, in reality it wasn’t really a prize, it was just a slightly cleaner place to bathe.

It didn’t even have curtains?

—--

You skipped breakfast. This meal looked like it came right out of a fire pit. Duncan had vanished but not before he made you turn four different shades of pink when he said… “Y/N Tarun. I think I love it.” 

Bridgette, Gwen, and you were talking about the challenges and watching Owen eat with mild disgustion. You watched as Owen burped out… a love note. Chef picked it up and read it to himself. “To the girl with smoldering eyes.” He gagged and dropped the note. Bridgette picked it up.

“Check it out, it's a corny haiku poem.” Gwen laughed into her palm. “Whoah, some dude’s crushing big time.” Bridgette’s eyes scanned the love letter. “Cupid definitely struck.” You laughed quietly.

“It’s probably for you.” Gwen said pointing your way. “Me?” You wanted to laugh. “Obviously?” Bridgette was confused why you didn’t think it was you. “Aren’t you and Duncan a thing now, plus I see the way he looks at you. He’s head over heels.” Gwen said, trying to convince you.

“First of all, that’s not his handwriting, he's borderline dyslexic and writes like a five-year-old on crack. Also he does not look at me like that.” You hissed. “Aw, you know his handwriting.” Gwen cooed at the fact. “Yes, he does? He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon.” Bidgette laughed.

You blushed. 

The two girls started to bicker over who it could be.

You rolled your eyes. Neither of their boys had the capability to write something that cheesy. It was very clearly Harold, he gushed over girls quite a bit. But you were curious about the mystery chick.

 

—-

Chris had the Screaming Bass gather by the plane as he explained the instructions. Duncan was listening but you had his headphones around your ears as music blasted. Maneater by Nelly Furtado to be precise.

I wanna see you all on your knees, knees.

You both were on the couch, he was sitting up but you had your head in his lap, lightly tapping your thigh in tune to the music. Duncan had his fingers playing in your hair which he knew you found comforting. It reminded you of your mother to be honest.

When you were younger she’d give you braids (A/N: Heavily implied to be cornrow braids, aka implied black!reader but can be seen either way) and her hands would weave throughout your hair.

You either wanna be with me, or be me (come on now)

Duncan tapped your shoulder signaling it was time to get up. You sat up quickly as you shook your head ‘no’, you did not want to give him his headphones back. He scowled playfully. Your team started to push the couch in between Duncan struggling to get his headphones back. 

A maneater, make you work hard.

Bridgette sighed as she watched you too mess around. She watched you trip into the sand as Duncan tackled you and you both rolled around laughing your heads off, before Duncan quickly stole a kiss, then his headphones back. Her eyes flickered to Geoff. Why couldn’t he do something like that? 

“Aw man.” You gave Duncan a playful pouty lip and he stuck his tongue out as you both resumed pushing the sofa. You watched DJ easily fall onto the sofa and he seemed surprised that he survived. 

But he was quickly ‘devoured’ by the couch.

You paled and began whistling and walking away everyone else following in pursuit.

It was your turn next. Duncan followed you next to the moose and helped you climb up. “Just think, the socks don’t smell as bad as my dad, and the moose can’t be as crazy as juvie.” He shrugged, you had been through worse, he had been through worse.

“Fair. Don’t I get a kiss for good luck? It’s tradition right?” You smiled. “Come back alive, baby and we’ll see.” Duncan smiled walking away as the moose flew out of the pen.

You whooped and hollered with joy as the moose bucked around. It was angry all right. But something switched in the animal's head, it wasn’t angry, it was murderous. He bucked twice in a row and he flipped you off of him and onto your back on the ground thankfully missing the socks and he antlers trapped you against the hard ground.

Bridgette watched as Duncan’s eyes widened and his body straightened up. His hands reached for the gun hidden in the waistline of his pants and Bridgette grabbed his wrist. His eyes were clouded over when they met hers. “Let. Go. Of. Me.” He growled but she persisted. “She’ll be okay.” Bridgette hissed at him. 

Its antlers scratched up your face before Chef Hatchet could get the moose under control again.

Duncan shook off his stupor and ripped his wrist away from Bridgette sending her a glare before he helped you up and you coughed into your hand. You couldn’t hear anything. Duncan waved a hand in front of your face saying words but no sound came out. “Huh?” You mumbled. But suddenly there was sound, and there was a LOT.

You covered your ears and Duncan slipped his headphones around them as he switched the white-sound on.

‘Better?’ he mouthed. You nodded. 

He took you away to get your face bandaged. Duncan pointed at a log and you sat down, he knelt in front of you and began butting butterfly bandages on your face which Chef had thrown to him mouthing ‘Don’t tell Chris’.

“Sorry, I lost. Something happened with the moose.” You whispered unsure of the volume of your voice. “Are you okay?” Duncan whispered back, he didn’t care if you lost, honestly he didn’t care if you had gotten the entire team in last place or whatever, he just wanted you to be okay.

You shrugged your shoulders as Duncan put the last bandage on. 

He sat next to you on the log and wrapped an arm around your shoulders kissing the top of your head. You stayed like that until the next challenge.

—-

|Trending on X right now|

#flirtybadassbfxembarrasedbadassgf

#”ilikeity/ntarun”excusemE-

#hEWASSOWORRIED

#thewaythattheyareperfectcouple?

#SHEWEARSHISCLOTHES-

—--

Duncan had volunteered to drive Lindsay and before he had hopped on the jet ski you mildly threatened him (you still wore his headphones). “If you purposely ruin this I will fight you.” You whispered, jabbing a finger in his chest. His lips found yours. “Maybe I’d like that.” He whispered and you rolled your eyes. 

You both watched Heather drive Harold and much to your surprise Heather’s top flew off. “Well that’s fun.” You whisper-laughed and Duncan smiled bringing you closer towards him as you put a head on his shoulder.

Duncan failed spectacularly at driving Lindsay, so much so he flew into a tree much to your horror. You scaled the tree flipping from branch to branch before you found him near the top.

“Hey sweetheart I might have a concussion… but did you know that there’s this girl I reallllyyyy like her name’s Y/N and she’s super pretty but don’t tell her okay?” you had to stifle your laugh.

“Okay.”

—

You may have lost the challenge but you were as happy as a clam. Duncan was still really out-of-it and Chris did not make it better by antagonizing him. He quickly shut up when you pointed a gun at him.

In other news.

Harold got voted off.

—

���WHAT-” Leshawna and Harold just kissed much to your horror. “I know, I was as surprised as you are, kid.” Chef sighed next to you.

[iceman-kazansky]

Band of Brothers Appreciation Week, Day 1— Training

Requested by: no body, Appreciation week post

Pairings: Carwood Lipton x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Series-typical violence

A/n: Well. This wasn't quite what the trope given to us by The very lovely @hbowardaily gave, but it inspired me! So this is my little spin on it!! It's my first time ever taking part in one or these appreciation weeks so bare with me :)

The roar of planes in the sky was unlike anything you’d ever heard before. The Douglass C-47’s large engines filled the air with their deafening whines while men sat in silent wait. She could feel her gut, churning in fear and anticipation, anxiety chilling her spine. Yet, she was confused, for she had practiced this type of thing before. She hadn’t spent two years at camp Toccoa, running up the 3 mile hill every day, completing night marches and training to be a paratrooper all for nothing. This is what she’d trained for. She trained for war. So why was there such a fear, evident in her gaze and the way her leg bobbed nervously.

The only difference between the two was this was in a large formation, with hundreds of thousands of other men, trained for the exact same thing, jumping with them in the invasion. Leaping out of the hardened steel doors with no certainty their parachutes would deploy and they wouldn’t hit the ground. Which, even if they did reach the German-occupied ground of Normandy, not knowing if a kraut was going to shoot them before they could get untangled was far scarier. At least hitting the ground you wouldn’t feel anything. So aside from that, nothing was too different, right?

You knew that this kind of thinking would only throw his mind into a frenzy so instead, you take a deep breath and look out the opened door next to you, where cold wind blasts you in the face. In the black of the night, you can just barely make out the shadowy silhouettes of planes, flying in large formations.

Somewhere near the neck of the formation, a large boom stands out over the roaring engines, a small orange flash erupting in the sky. Then, like flies to a carcass, the sky is filled with hundreds of orange explosions, smacking into the underside of the planes as they fly.

The German Flak hits close to the plane Easy Company is in, prompting the beast to lurch and sway in the clouded night sky. More flak bursts around the frightened paratroopers, constant ‘Boom! Boom! Boom!’s filling the noise with their thunderous cacophony.

The light in the belly of the plane shifts to red and your commanding officer, Richard Winters yells, "Get Ready!" And lifts his hands up, creating a hook with his finger and yelling "Hook up!".

You stand to your full height at his command, clicking your static line to the thin wire that runs from the door to the tail. The same is happening all around you, everyone follows his directives fluidly as they hook their cables to the thick metal wire that hangs in the plane, their movements fueled by their countless hours of grueling training spent in Toccoa. “Equipment Check!” lieutenant Winters yells.

One by one the Easy company men begin calling out their position in the plane, pulling on the straps of the paratrooper ahead, until finally reaching you.

You are thankful for one of the more manner-some Easy boys who doesn't get too handsy when tugging your equipment, like the many who had tried before. He finishes quickly with a loud, “Eight, okay!”

Now it is your turn to tug on the paratrooper ahead of you, your fingers pulling on their intricate setup of ropes and the yellow Mae vest strapped to their chest thoroughly before yelling, "Seven, okay!"

Like a chain the line continues;

"Six, okay!"

"Five, Okay!"

“Four, okay!”

“Three, okay!”

The light is a blaring red, pouring out of the bulb and pooling in the shadowy confines of the Douglass plane. The ominous light is stationary for what seems like eternity, the Flak banging its fiery fists into the planes around you, punching holes in their skin with ease.

The plane is hit once more this time in the side, sending pieces of shrapnel shooting into one soldier's legs. The man screams in pain, which you can only imagine to be unbearable. In an instant Doc Roe is unclipping himself and moving to treat the wounded man, your commander not wasting any time doing the same.

The light turns green and the rest of you paratroopers still in the plane jump into the icy blast while another shot of Flak rocks the plane.

You jump into the sky without a taste of fear, your canopy deploying a few frightful seconds later of free fall. You are pushed through the sky like a feather in the wind, the white of your canopy sticking out like a sore thumb in the ebony of the night.

Moments of quiet, gentle freefall pass, the breeze tickling your cheek and dragging its fingers over your parachute while you descend. The planes grow quieter as they continue flying overhead, the only noise left is the repetitive 'rat-tat-tat' of Anti-Aircraft Artillery as it fires into the sky in small bursts of yellow and orange.

You hit the ground, your canopy dragging a few feet when you roll to a kneeling position, pulling out your bayonet and slicing the chute from your body. Once you free yourself, you move to your leg bag, the place you'd stored your rifle for when you dropped, only to find it missing.

You curse audibly, voice stark against the silence of night, seemingly echoing in the darkness. In the very close distance, an AAA you hadn't before seen fires shots into the sky at planes that are long gone, prompting you to dive to the ground in hopes of concealing yourself.

The Germans manning the gun thankfully don't notice, the noise of the Flak successfully covering your noise.

You had to be more careful.

In hopes of finding more cover, you move into the trees, circumnavigating the AAA. The only sound left is the crunch under foot as you trek through the trees. Everything looks the same, You think to yourself, trees. So many trees.

And it does; the only thing around you is a thickly wooded forest; every way you looked had similar features to the latter. It was making you feel hopelessly lost in this unfamiliar woodland.

You are squinting your eyes in the dark, trying to make out shapes, when the rustling of a bush causes you to stop in your tracks. It's quiet for a few moments, silence passing between you and the man in the bush, unsure whether the other is a friend or foe.

Fuck it, If I die, I die, you think, calling out, "Flash!"

The person immediately steps out, breaking the tension with a reply of “Thunder.”

“Carwood!” The name leaves your lips in a whisper, a breath you didn't know you were holding going with it.

Within seconds, you've crossed the short distance and are in front of Carwood, relief flooding your veins, feeding your emotions. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his middle section, collapsing into his firm hold. He is shocked. Body rigid for a few moments before he returns the hug.

It's a moment of peace when you hug, both of you lost in the warm silence the embrace provides, your souls intertwine like twin flames, dancing in harmony to a melody only you and him know. The hug was like a cascade of emotions, a torrential downpour in a desert of bottled-up feelings. Both holding on to the other tightly, as if trying to etch the feeling into your very bones, unsure of when you would have this chance again. It was a fleeting, stolen moment of tenderness, carried on the wings of unspoken love.

"I'm so glad to see you," you murmur, pulling away to look into his chocolate eyes, they hold an emotion you can name very well, even though it is unspoken. The warm honey holds a warmth of an everlasting hearth. It's beautiful, his eyes twinkling with love. And it's love created for only one person. You.

The tension isn't awkward, no, rather a gift of silence, offered by perhaps God himself as he watches these two love-stricken fools pin over each other in a time of war.

Carwood is looking at you, eyes heavy with emotion, no doubt seeing you as if you hung the stars, the sun, and the moon. And he can barely contain himself. He reaches up with his free hand to cup your cheek, rough calloused fingers tracing your cheekbones in the moonlight.

For all one knows, it might be the relief of the reunion between you two, but Carwood finds himself leaning in. You following suit shortly after. Your lips meet, and it seems as if fireworks go off inside you, bursts of joy pumping itself through your wary veins. The kiss is long awaited, and your lips move together in beautiful, unknown passion, contained for 2 years too long. You hope it never ends, the fiery dance you both are drawn into by love, for it gives you a new heightened sense of security and protection, despite the irony of your actual location. But maybe, just maybe, the world would stop for the two lovers.

Perhaps just for a day.

[hiem3]

Brat Tamer

minors get away ^^

warning~ unprotected s3x, cr3am p13, jealousy, swearing, f1ng3ring, 3ating

summary~ you and Joshua have been friends since preschool and you’ve been in love with him since. Now you guys are in college and it seems like he has feelings for you back ;)

i’ve been feeling hella unmotivated and recently i started to like seventeen! ahaha lmk if there’s any other members you guys would like me to write!

——————————————————————————

you’ve been friends with Joshua since pre-school and every since high school he’s been pretty popular. He was known to be the princely type but deep inside he loves it when people are brats.

It all started when you walked in on him watching p0rn and there was some instances that you guys got too close for comfort, some words were exchanged, some looks however he never told you he liked brats you just knew.

Now you guys are in college and of course he’s still popular as ever and people are still saying he’s so cute! such a gentleman but only if they really knew who he is deep inside.

Ever since you and Joshua started college he’s been partying every night. you were waiting for Joshua to study with him. He calls you and you pick up the phone “what’s up Joshi? where are you?” you ask. You can hear drake playing in the background “oh you’re at another party huh?” you say. you feel your ears turning red out of embarrassment and anger. “joshua! is this your shawty?” you realize that wasn’t joshua. it was one of his friends. “1st of all i’m not so fuck off” you say lowkey butt hurt cause you wish you were. “hey y/n sorry about that look-“ Joshua says but before he can finish his sentence you cut him off “listen i’m not here to be a joke to you Joshua so tell your friends to FUCK OFF-“ you hang up on him. He’s always been popular and you were invisible at least to him. you know that you being in love with him is dangerous since your families are close with each other and it’s not worth the risk to.

The next day on campus you run into Joshua but you ignore him. “hey y/n why are you ignoring me?” Joshua says grabbing u by ur shoulder to face you to him. you brush him off “let’s just talk about this later..i have a class to get to”.

later that day your friend texts you

keeho: ayo there’s a party at my crib wanna come?

you were hesitant however you needed to blow some steam off

me: yeah sure i’ll be there

you get ready for the party and you show up in a little top with big parachute pants. You’re definitely grabbing some attention from people since keeho tried to make a pass at you but you brushed it off. after some few shots and some grinding on some people, you see joshua in the corner of your eye. He’s eyeing you from the coach with a drink in his hand looking displeased and you were dancing with a guy. you stick out your tongue and continue dancing. Joshua gets up and grabs your hand “sorry but i gotta talk to her” he says.

that lowkey takes you by surprised but you were still mad at him “joshua what the fuck” you say “what y/n you said that you were gonna talk to me so let’s talk to each other” he says but you didn’t say anything you still wanna give him the cold shoulder. “fuck y/n you’re such a brat. your grinding up on guys and making a fool of yourself.” “hey don’t call me a brat if you’re the one with a brat kink” you say grinning. Joshua lifts your chin up and says “you don’t even know the things i would do with you”

you don’t make eye contact with him instead your eyes drifts to his muscular arms, his broad shoulders to his bulging cock. “are you really being turned on by our conversation?” you say sly. he blushes a bit and whispers in your ear “what are you gonna do about it?”. you press your lips onto his, drifting your hands on his chest and pulling his neck so you guys can kiss deep. out of breath he says “let’s go to my place”. you guys get to his place and you guys are falling around his hallways making out.

you guys stumble on the bed. god he looks amazing. his bedroom lights are hitting his body in ways where he looks 10x better than he usually does. Joshua leans over you and starts kissing you from your lips to your chest, taking off your top and your bra. “you know how long i’ve been wanting to feel you up? fuck” he says. your ears turn red “aww are you trying to hide them from me?” he coos “oh fuck off” you respond.

he starts making his way to your panties and pushing them to the side to eat you out. he twirls his tongue on your clit hitting all the right spots. you’re out of breath and moaning “josh-ua right there”. you’re grinding on his tongue and gripping on his covers. “look you’re making a mess on my covers” he says. you cover your face with your hands. he takes your hands off your face and tells you to not do that ever again. Joshua inserts his fingers into you cunt and plays with your clit with tongue. licking you as if he was starving. “josh- i’m close!” you groan. you cum making a mess on his face.

“you really think i’m done with you? not after what you said to me sweetheart” he tosses you onto him and inserts his tip into you. “joshua oh god you’re too big!” you say out of breath. “it’s okay you can take it” he says brushing your hair back. he takes your ass and starts bouncing you on his cock. he’s hitting you in the stomach and you’re being filled with pleasure. you’ve dreamt how it would be like being with him however your imagination has never imagined the pleasure he’s giving you. you dig your nails into joshua since there was a sudden change of pace. he’s pumping you harder and faster, you can tell he’s close. “i’m about to cum if you’re gonna do that joshua” you say panting. he grins and says “that’s okay sweet heart let’s cum together”. He pumps you more, you can feel his cock inside you’re belly. “fuck baby you’re so good” Joshua groans and fills your insides.

[archive-of-artprompts]

🎉SPIN THE WHEEL! Put your beloved blorbos and OCs into possible peril, at the mercy of your followers!🎉

Send in a number+character/s, and have that character drawn/written with that fate! (Tropes from tv tropes 📺)

And Show It to You - Death by removing their heart and showing it to them.

Animal Assassin - Death by use of a deadly animal (especially a venomous creature) as a murder weapon.

Attack on the Heart - Death by directly inflicting damage to the heart.

Bitter Almonds - Death by cyanide poisoning, which leaves the telltale scent of bitter almonds.

Bludgeoned to Death - Death by being beaten with a blunt object.

Boom, Headshot! - Death by firing a single bullet through their brain.

Cement Shoes - Death by being tied down with blocks of concrete and thrown into a deep body of water.

Chainsaw Good - Death by a buzzsaw or chainsaw to cut them into bits.

Chute Sabotage - Death by  damaging their parachute.

Cooked to Death - Death by baking, boiling, frying, grilling, or roasting them with kitchen equipment.

Cruel and Unusual Death - Death by gruesome torture.

Dangerously Close Shave - Death by straight razor 

Deadly Game - Death by losing a violent contest (sometimes based on a playground game.)

Deadly Remote Control Toy - Death by remote-controlled toys.

Death by Falling Over - Death by a fatal push. 

Death in the Clouds - Death by being murdered onboard an aircraft.

Death Trap - Death by an improvised weapon designed to kill anyone who triggers the mechanism and gets trapped by it.

Demanding Their Head - Death by ordered beheading, and returning the head as proof.

Drowning Pit - Death by being trapped in a room or chamber that's being slowly flooded with water.

Electrified Bathtub - Death by dropping active electronics into a bathtub filled with water.

Fed to Pigs - Death by being locked in a pen full of hungry pigs.

Fed to the Beast - Death by handing them over to a man-eating animal or monster, to be devoured alive by the hungry creature.

Flaying Alive - Death by being skinned alive

Fright Deathtrap - Death by intentionally, fatally scaring someone

Gasoline Dousing - Death by pouring flammable liquids on their body and then igniting them.

Gladiator Games - Death by being forced to engage in mortal combat as some sort of twisted spectator sport.

Gutted Like a Fish - Death by disembowelment.

Hanging Around - Death by hanging them by the neck with a rope (noose), fatal by either asphyxiation or breaking their neck vertebrae.

Head Crushing - Death by squashing their head like a watermelon.

High-Voltage Death - Death by electrocuting them.

Kill It with Fire - Death by using fire or burning heat.

Kill It with Ice - Death by using ice or freezing cold.

Kill It with Water - Death by using water.

Literally Shattered Lives - Death by being frozen and then shattered.

Machete Mayhem - Death by using a big, long blade that's not exactly a knife or a sword.

Medication Tampering - Death by tampering with their medication

Moe Greene Special - Death by shooting them through the eye.

Multiple Gunshot Death - Death by being riddled with many bullets.

Murder by Cremation - Death by shoving them into a (kitchen or crematory) oven to burn them to death.

Murder by Inaction - Death by someone refusing to save their life.

Neck Snap - Death by twisting their neck hard enough to sever their spinal cord.

Not-So-Fake Prop Weapon - Death by using a real weapon disguised as a fake imitation. 

Off with His Head! - Death by chopping off their head with a very sharp blade to cut through the neck. 

Poison Is Evil - Death by use of a highly toxic chemical substance.

Sickbed Slaying - Death while they are lying in bed from illness or injury.

Sinister Suffocation - Death by choking or strangulation.

Slain in Their Sleep - Death while they’re asleep in bed.

Slashed Throat - Death by cutting their neck open with a blade, though without going for a full-on decapitation.

Vorpal Pillow - Death by smothering them with a pillow.

Your Head A-Splode - Death by making their head burst or blow up.

[crinkled-emotions]

Day 10: "Talk to me, Goose."

I'm so behind it's not funny but I spent a little extra time working this one. The original prompt is here:

I did end up reworking it a little. I hope that's okay.

Warnings: Rooster and Maverick discussing Goose's ejection, Rooster having a chat with a psychologist (mentioned)

-

“How is he?”

“Very lucky. Cuts and bruises, maybe a broken rib or three. He’s staying tonight for observation, they think he could also have a concussion.”

Maverick tilted his head toward the closed exam room door.

“Go on. I’ll talk to the others. Are you going to be okay?”

“Just glad he’s gonna be alright, sir. Uh, Mav... are you... this was really similar to-“

“-go and see your friend; I’m fine.”

Maverick waved off the younger aviator despite the building anxiety, taking a deep breath. The Lieutenant stepped into the hospital room and Maverick rounded the corner back into the main waiting area.

“Where is he?”

-

Stepping into the bathroom only a couple metres from the exam room, Maverick paused to splash water on his face. It was reminiscent of when Viper had come to tell him-

Come to inform him-

Come to express his condolences.

“Mav?”

He startled to attention, wheeling around to check the stalls. Rookie mistake; you always check the stalls before you have a mental breakdown.

Sure enough, Coyote and Hangman were standing by the stalls, both with crestfallen looks on their faces. Neither looked like they’d been sick, nor were they panicking. Maverick tried to recall who he’d seen in the waiting area; Phoenix and Bob had been huddled together as they always were, and Payback was going in to see how Fanboy was doing. They’d ejected, but something had gone wrong and Fanboy’s parachute had fallen over him to the point it had almost drowned him. Payback had clung to him and screamed until medevac could get them out-

“Mav...”

That was Coyote; of course it was. Coyote, who kept Hangman in check, teased Phoenix in a way that only made her smile rather than frown in frustration, who called Rooster out when he-

Rooster.

“Move.”

Coyote and Hangman stepped aside, giving Maverick room to step into the stall. Rooster was leaning on the wall, knees drawn to his chest and head in his hands. He briefly glanced up when Maverick approached, eyes rimmed red and cheeks flushed.

“You look like shit, Mav,” he deadpanned. Maverick sighed.

“Bradley...”

“Don’t Bradley me; I’m fine. I... are you?”

“God no. You don’t look much better.”

By the door, Coyote and Hangman exchanged looks.

“We’re going to... go get coffee for everyone... you two want some?” Hangman eventually asked. Both shook their heads.

“Maybe grab some water, if you can find some?” Maverick suggested. Coyote put a hand on Hangman’s shoulder.

“Let’s go, man.”

The pair quietly (for once) made their way out of the bathroom, letting the door close behind them. With them gone, Rooster turned to Maverick.

“Y’know I had no idea about the full details until Hangman told everyone?”

“You wouldn’t fly off the handles like that if you’d known everything.”

Maverick reached over, slowly placing his hand on the back of Rooster’s neck. They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, in silence for a moment. Rooster scrubbed at his eyes, sighing.

“It was exactly like I dreamed it was. Today, I mean, it was exactly like what I thought happened to dad.”

“Oh, Bradley...”

Maverick swallowed, rubbing firm circles over his back. He could feel the minute tremors wracking through his godson’s body and he made sure to keep physical contact because that was the only thing that used to help his panic attacks when he was younger. He’d read Bradley’s file; there was no mention of panic attacks so he could have grown out of them.

Looking at him now, Maverick could see the way this was quickly becoming one.

“Hangman and Coyote take you in here?” Maverick asked him softly. Bradley shook his head.

“They’re the only ones who also read the docs; knew I’d be having a hard time.”

He glanced over at Maverick.

“I wish I’d never gotten curious. Ever since I heard Payback screaming over comms it feels like the words are constantly replaying in my head.”

Maverick hummed.

“It feels like I’m never gonna dry off again,” he confessed, “like I’m always going to be the guy walking into the hospital soaked to the bone.”

Rooster’s eyes looked like they were far away; no one could blame him.

-

“Hey; are you ready for today?”

“Fuck no.”

Phoenix hummed, reaching down to tie her boots. Rooster stayed by her bedroom door, and when she stood upright she frowned at him.

“Are you alright?”

“Guess so,” Rooster murmured. Phoenix patted his arm.

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. It’s okay not to be ready.”

“What about Fanboy, huh? He’s the one that nearly died.”

“Yeah but he doesn’t have nightmares about his dad’s death.”

Phoenix gestured toward her living area.

“You came here because you couldn’t sleep, right? Because of the nightmares?”

“Phoenix-“

Rooster swallowed, turning on his heel.

“See you in class.”

He was gone before Phoenix could call after him or tell him to go home; she’d stayed with him the first night after Fanboy’s accident, then she’d woken early that morning to find he was coming in to crash on her couch because he didn’t want to wake Maverick or sleep in an empty house. She sighed, grabbing her jacket as an afterthought before following Rooster out to their cars.

-

“You... look like shit.”

“Thanks, Bob, I really appreciate that.”

Bob rolled his eyes, stepping over the bench in the locker room to sit beside Rooster.

“No, seriously. You look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Bob.”

“Rooster...”

Bob sighed.

“If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. No one’s gonna ask questions; we were all there.”

“I’m good. I swear, I’m fine.”

Bob scoffed.

“Sure man, and I’m best buddies with Hangman.”

He stood, grabbing his helmet and leaving Rooster to his own devices. He reached for his phone, checked the time, and then scrambled to get ready. They had a hop planned for the morning and then a second later in the afternoon which were just to make sure that everyone was okay to get back in the air after Payback and Fanboy’s accident. It had been decided that Rooster, Phoenix and Bob were going first to try and work out whatever kinks were between them (that came out wrong... eh) but Maverick was going up shortly after with Coyote and Hangman to make sure that they were alright too. Phoenix had quietly suggested that Maverick and Rooster be separated for the first hop for the good of both of them and to her surprise they’d gone along with it. Payback was staying on the ground for the next couple of days to recover as well but he’d also been booked for a hop with Maverick pending his psych eval. He swore up and down that he was okay but after his own accident back in 86, Maverick wanted to hear it from a professional first.

-

“Alright, let’s check in. Phoenix and Bob?”

“All systems go, Maverick,” Phoenix replied. She did her last check of the systems and glanced over her shoulder at Bob who smiled and nodded.

“All systems green, Mav,” he agreed. Maverick checked his radio and then frowned when he realised he couldn’t see Rooster moving around in his jet. He was sitting completely still and Maverick waved his hands at him then sighed.

The joys of being short.

“Rooster, are you there?”

The radio was probably the smarter choice. He could see Phoenix glancing through the window of her jet to check on him, Bob finally looking over too and reaching for his own comms.

“Mav he’s hyperventilating; you better get up there.”

Maverick waved down one of the techs who pulled the ladder to Rooster’s jet back down, giving Maverick access to the cockpit. He managed to get Rooster to open the canopy and sat on the edge, hand on his shoulder. Rooster’s chest rapidly moved as he kept his hands away from the joystick and any of the other buttons he enjoyed playing with more than Hangman’s. He reached his hands out and made contact with Maverick’s flight suit, shakily working it between his fingers.

“You’re alright. Look at me, kid. It’s okay. Feel my breathing, shhhhh...”

Maverick worked his helmet off for him and ran his fingers through Rooster’s hair, trying to keep his attention.

“Breathe Bradley, just try to focus on your breathing. I’m gonna unzip your suit a little to give you some room to breathe, yeah?”

Maverick carefully undid the safety clasp on Rooster’s flightsuit then unzipped it about halfway down his chest. He stopped to just watch Rooster for a moment then turned to glance over his shoulder to the ground. He wasn’t surprised to find Phoenix and Bob down there, but he was surprised to Hangman and Coyote also waiting.

“What’s goin’ on up there?” Coyote called. Phoenix looked anxiously between the others and Maverick, borderline ready to get up there herself. Hangman and Coyote stood on either side of her and Bob, ready to stop Phoenix.

“It’s all good, kids. Go inside; me and Rooster are just gonna sit here a minute.”

The four on the ground exchanged looks, and then shrugged.

“Okay... be careful.”

They wandered off and Maverick turned his attention back to Rooster. His eyes didn’t look as wild, and his breathing had settled but now he just looked pale. He slowly turned to Maverick, brows furrowed.

“Am I ever going to get past this?”

-

With Rooster safely back on the ground and in the shower, Maverick made his way into the kitchen and set about fixing a sandwich. He found the bread, and the butter... but then he saw the cutting board Carole and Goose had been gifted by his parents for their first wedding anniversary and he took a deep breath to centre himself as he leaned on the kitchen sink.

“Talk to me, Goose. Could really use a little advice right now.”

“I don’t think dad would have much to say; he was always the hugger parent.”

Maverick whipped around. Rooster stood by the entrance to the kitchen, sweatpants and a hoodie on with his hair back to its natural soft waves rather than gelled straight. He shrugged, joining Maverick by the window facing the backyard he used to play in; now he drank beer, played guitar and on... more than one occasion, got so high he wasn’t buried with the grief of losing his parents at a young age.

“You’re right; your dad used to hear you cry and instead of being tired or maybe a little frustrated he would just hold you.”

Maverick nudged his shoulder, taking a seat at the dining table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly. Bradley shook his head.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Roos you had a panic attack before you could even get in the air; that’s twice in what? A couple days?”

“Mav,” he sighed, “I just said-“

“-I know and I hear you, but this isn’t something we can sweep under the rug. These aren’t the same as your panic attacks when you were a kid, it’s different and I know it’s because of what happened with Fanboy.”

“Fuck, Maverick, what do you want me to say? That I could have not read the paperwork, not read your statement? Not seen Fanboy nearly die due to drowning? Goddamn, what else, fuck I ejected myself and I don’t remember feeling like this. I just- I-“

Rooster slammed his hand on the dining table and Maverick reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you need right now? One phone call and I can have psych assess you, or we can go for a walk, we could get takeout...”

“Can we just... sit on the sofa and watch reruns? Like we used to?”

Maverick swallowed the concern and the need to yell at his godson to get the help he needed. He gently touched Bradley’s hand.

“Of course, Roos. If that is what you need, that’s what we’ll do.”

They headed over to said couch; Maverick sat up but Rooster kicked his feet up into Maverick’s lap, rested his head on the arm and then promptly fell asleep.

Maverick couldn’t say he blamed him.

-

The second, third and fourth attempt to get in the air didn’t go much better. Eventually Cyclone requested a psych eval and no one was surprised when Rooster quietly struggled his way through it. He went to see his parents’ graves, and then spent some time in flight simulations to try and soothe his nerves. He’d never had this problem, not even really when they’d simulated water ejections in flight school and for a split second he’d gotten stuck underwater in the tank.

Eventually Fanboy got cleared to go back in the air and he did it with eagerness, ready to overcome whatever lasting anxieties he had. The others had all been flying for weeks at that point but the psychologist on base had gently suggested that the accident had triggered something in Rooster’s mind and that if he wanted to get back into a jet, he’d have to put some hard work in. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.

So he did.

And it wasn’t.

He returned to his better eating habits, he tried to improve his sleeping schedule (as best he could whilst still being in the Navy) and he tried to make sure he was in the gym at least once every two days as much as he hated it. He spent time with Maverick reminiscing about his childhood and he spent time making new memories to replace the grief of the old. He came to work and learned more about what it was to be a half decent aviator and then he got used to being back in his jet.

When the fifth attempt looked like it was going to be like the others, Fanboy climbed the wing himself and sat, waving at Rooster.

“Get your ass in the air!” He yelled, “someone’s gotta kick Hangman down a couple pegs!”

“Get off the wing!” Rooster yelled.

It was like something had finally clicked and he started the take off process. Fanboy scrambled down to get clear, jogging back to the others standing by the hangar.

“Please tell me he’s going up,” Phoenix murmured. Bob nudged her shoulder.

“Give him time.”

“I can’t look.”

She turned her back but the others watched on with baited breath.

Then they heard the roar of the jet engine and smiled.

Finally.

-

[esoteric-aesthetic-lyrics]

Parachute - Neck Deep