#Second's midwinter cleanup

[forasecondtherewedwon]

desperately after more dodger fox fics, particularly any that involve the 'congress' conversation or a follow up to belle choosing to test the acid on her thigh, not anywhere more sensible!

Can do! Thank you, Anon :)

“You really thought I hadn’t had… congress?” Jack checks.

Belle, blushing, says, “Of course not.”

“Of course you didn’t think I hadn’t had it?”

She shakes her head in frustration, all too aware that Jack is doing this on purpose, intentionally making her flustered because she introduced this topic and he—typical doctor—will not let it die.

“I mean, of course I didn’t think about you having congress. Whether you’d had it,” she amends, in agony.

“Never?” He has the nerve to smile.

“I’m going inside now.”

“Good idea. You seem to have gotten some colour. From the sun.”

send me a prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #The Artful Dodger #Dr. Jack Dawkins #Lady Belle Fox #dodgerfox

[dragonloverdoran]

Struck to the Bone

~2k words, mentions of violence, smol Lief

There are ghosts in Del.

By now, Endon has lost count of the times he has caught a glimpse of familiar palace folk within the city's crowds: a shock of orange hair just like Lady Elisa’s, perhaps, or Captain Jessop’s crooked nose, or Min’s kindly smile.

Oh, he knows they cannot be real. Sharn never notices any of it, and she is much sharper than he is. Barda says that whoever he sees must be distant relatives at best. Neither of them ever manage to hide their concerned looks quite well enough.

Besides, in his dreams he watches his people sprawled out on the palace tiles, life draining out of them in rivers of red. He sees their shattered tools and instruments and weapons, and he hears their desperate warnings to a king who has already abandoned them. It is only when the warnings turn to curses that he can awake, a weight in his heart telling him his dreams are true to the bitter end. 

In this way, he reminds himself that these ghosts are nothing more than illusions, mere tricks of a guilty mind. It doesn’t stop them in the least.

An execution, the Grey Guards shout, their fists thundering against the forgehouse door. Come to the palace to witness our first midwinter execution! Entertainment for all the family!

A chill seeps into Endon's soul. Braced against the other side of the door, he waits until the raucous laughter fades down the street, reaching for his coat only when he is sure the Guards will not batter down the timbers. Sharn has already passed Lief his thick jacket and a knitted hat. 

Once the boy is bundled up, Endon places his hands on his son's shoulders. “Listen closely, Lief,” he says, willing his voice not to shake. If he panics, he cannot expect his son to stay calm either. “You have grown much since the last execution. You are now tall enough to be able to see the event without being on my shoulders. That means you must stand on your own, near the front, and the Grey Guards will hold you responsible if you happen to catch their eye.”

The words taste like ash in Endon’s mouth. No child should have to be told such things; no child should even know of the kind of evil that the Grey Guards wreak in the heart of the city. But having spent all nine years of his life under the reign of the Shadow Lord, Lief is already far too familiar with the process of public execution. He nods solemnly.

“Do you remember the rules?” asks Endon.

Lief begins to fidget. “Keep your head down,” he murmurs. “Face the platform. Stay silent, no matter what you see.” 

Three simple rules. Not unlike the ones in the forge, which Lief can rattle off with the speed of an auctioneer, and which are just as vital in keeping him safe. Endon breathes a sigh of relief and releases the boy.  

But after he takes the keys off the hook, Endon turns to see Lief’s cheeks flushed red, words tumbling out as quick and sudden as the tears in his eyes. “Father, I’m going to bring Monty along. I know I’m too old to play with him and he’s balding and needs repairs and I should have fixed him up ages ago, but no one will see, and no, I’m not going to say why I need him and I don’t care what you think about it.” Lief folds his arms, mouth turned sharply downward.

Endon pauses, not knowing how to reply. What has he done, he wonders, to make Lief think he would disapprove of a child’s fear, especially now? He wants to tell him that he is the last person who can demand bravery, but speaking of that would not help at all. Instead, he kneels down and embraces his son.

While Lief weeps into his collar, Endon looks around for Monty. A charming little thing despite its loose threads and rough patches, the toy kin has never been too far away. Sharn, ever-knowing, disappears into the bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with Monty in hand. Letting go of his father, Lief snatches up the furry creature and stuffs it awkwardly into his pocket, his cheeks still burning.

Sharn tuts gently, sounding almost calm. Endon knows better. Her rueful smile is tight, and as she does up her coat buttons he can see how white her knuckles are. He has learnt long ago that if his strong, courageous wife is afraid, then he has no chance at keeping the fear at bay.

“Soon it will be over,” he says. 

It is all the comfort he can offer. This time, he cannot keep the crack out of his voice.

In happier, more ignorant times, the stretch between the palace’s great hall and the garden wall was known as the Place of Peace. Magnificent feasts and parties had been held there every other month, weather permitting. Jesters and musicians brought laughter and joy to all in attendance, surrounded by candles so plentiful that it had seemed as though he and Sharn danced among the stars. 

Now, as they enter the Place of Punishment, he clutches at her hand once again. Truth be told, it is a far more apt name than the old one, for the word “peace” is a poor substitution for “easy manipulation of a foolish king”. The high platform that now stands before the people of Del makes no such pretenses about its nature. Adorned with rows of fang-like stakes, previous executions have patterned its wooden slats with layers of red-brown spatter. Bones old and new are strewn around the square, fragments crunching underfoot like gravel. Above it all, the Shadow Lord’s red mark flies high in the sickly air.

“If a tick is tall enough to gawk, they’re tall enough to squawk,” chortles a Grey Guard as they pass. “Hear that, Teak 7? Came up with that one myself. I sure hope someone refuses to watch the show.” He hefts a gigantic club in one hand, and Endon quickly averts his eyes.

All too soon, they are pressed against the backs of the crowd gathering at the foot of the platform. Endon takes a peek at Lief. The boy’s jaw is set, and he has a vice-like grip on Monty, hidden within his pocket. True to the rules, he stares straight ahead before pushing forward and disappearing into the crowd. Beside him, Endon feels Sharn squeeze his hand twice. Our son. She too has seen him go. 

Endon recognises neither the names nor the faces of the condemned. For others, perhaps, that could make it a little easier to watch the agonising deaths unfolding in front of them. They are able to believe that this cannot happen to them, as long as they keep their consciences clean and sufferings silent. It is too late for him. His people are here because of his failures, and a part of him goes with every poor soul slaughtered in his place.

Soon after the executions are complete, a tug at his sleeve announces Lief’s return. The poor boy looks about as ready to faint as Endon feels. “Mother, Father,” he whispers, “I dropped Monty somewhere near the front. I’m going back to get him, but you have to come with me. Please?”

Startled, Endon turns to Sharn.

“Well, let's go,” she says quietly, her mouth forming into a thin line. “Even the Guards have had their bloodlust sated for today.”

She is right, as always. Most of the Guards are busy directing cleanup and traffic. The rest are clumped in groups, discussing the details of the killings with schoolboy enthusiasm. Either way, none of them are paying real attention to the citizens, who are leaving as eagerly as they dare. He glances at Sharn again. She nods, so he takes a deep breath and follows their son. 

Pushing through the throng, Endon cannot help but feel like a fish swimming upstream through the River Del. Where Lief is able to squeeze between people with ease, and Sharn with only a little more effort, he is jostled left and right, his bulk hampering his progress. Using more force, he quickly finds, does nothing but yield him angry looks. With every second that passes, the others get further and further away.

He is midway through his umpteenth apology when a peculiar stillness draws his eye. A few paces away, the crowd ebbs and swirls around a lone man, standing nearly a span taller than his neighbours. His nose and mouth are covered with a dull green scarf, and a pale scar winds its way across his cheek from beneath the cloth. Where most have their heads bowed, his is held high and proud, the dark hair tangling about his shoulders his only sign of motion.

Endon blinks, half expecting the man to be seized before his eyes. Armed or not, boldness such as this is beyond foolish. Surely it was obvious that attracting attention here would be rewarded violently, yet the man makes no attempt to blend in. Still, there is something else odd about this man that gives him pause, a half-formed thought evaporating before Endon can properly seize hold of it. His chest tightens. Whatever he has forgotten, it is important. Trying to regain his line of thought, he finds himself pushing closer. At the very least, he should warn him of the danger.

The stranger, Endon surmises, is some kind of seasonal traveller. Besides the ill-informed attitude, the cut and fabric of his clothes are better suited to some thorny path than Del’s cobbled streets. Beneath the dense cloak, the man’s frame is as lean and strong as Endon’s own- fitness greater than the city’s hunger often allows. From this distance, he can guess at the features behind the scarf; a couple of steps more and he can speak to him, even reach out and touch him. 

And then Endon looks at the stranger’s eyes, and he thinks better of it. Dread darting suddenly through his nerves, he sees that there is neither touristic curiosity, nor sadness, nor even fear within them. Nothing but fury, bright and savage, fixated on the Guards as though they could combust with a stare. 

He had been mistaken. This was not the madness of ignorance, but of hate: all-consuming hate, hate that mattered more than love of home, of family, of life itself. Endon had felt echoes of it himself ever since the world ended nearly ten years ago. It was agonising and self-destructive, he knew, but it filled the void left when it seemed all else had been torn away. And even he had been fortunate, for whatever had befallen this man, there was nobody beside him to keep him grounded, as Sharn and Lief did. Nobody to tell him what had happened to the pottery workers, who had been possessed by the same feeling not too long ago. Nobody to prevent him from being a danger to himself and others, a spark waiting to set the forest around him alight.

Endon is backing away when the half-formed recognition returns to him complete. It is as good as a punch to the gut; in an instant, it buckles his knees and squeezes all the air out of his chest. No, it cannot be, he thinks numbly. No, he has never loved anyone who could possibly muster such rage. But, try as he might, he cannot deny that that hair, that build, that proud, stubborn stance, that curve of the nose and those dark, dark eyes are so very much like…

The dear name is on Endon’s lips before he remembers that it is he who wears it now. Heart thudding, he chokes it back. Calling out his own name in the Place of Punishment- what an absurdly stupid way to ensure the Shadow Lord’s eternal rule. He should know by now he cannot trust his own sight, not when it comes to those who had misguidedly cared for the king he had been. But of all the visions he had seen, this one was not so impossible, was it?

Trying to still his racing thoughts, he shuts his eyes and begins to count silently to ten.

“Jarred?”

Endon jolts at Sharn’s voice. The square is clearing, and for a moment he thinks she has seen the man too. But the stranger-who-was-not-a-stranger has vanished, and it is himself that she gazes worriedly at. Without another word, she loops her arm around him, steadying him as she has so many times before. Lief stands nervously behind her, clutching a dusty Monty like a long-lost friend.

Suddenly exhausted, Endon shakes his head and lets it drop.

“I promise I won't lose him again,” mumbles Lief, misunderstanding. He does not take his eyes off his beloved kin.

Endon swallows, trying to push away memories of similar promises he had made and broken a lifetime ago. “I am sure you will not,” he says, and takes Lief’s free hand in his own. 

#deltora quest #endon #sharn #lief #my fic #this is pretty angsty but hopefully at least slightly cute too #sir that's my emotional support toy kin #this has been in my drafts for literal years so while it's not perfect i am DONE with it for now #i can't believe lief saw all this execution nonsense and still hung about after curfew in his teens #the absolute madman #i didn't even include the canonical rotting corpse decorations in here

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Lovely outputs from these ✨

If it suits your fancy would love to see what you’d run with for #55 or #57 with Cleven and Egan from Masters of the Air

Cheers and thank you ❤️

Thank you 😊

57: Brown iodine stains on skin

“You’re gonna look like a goddamn zebra,” Bucky predicted. He was dabbing iodine into the long cuts on Buck’s face after shooing away base hospital staff, watching the antiseptic stain as it dried.

“You miss my pretty face?” Buck teased. He winced as Bucky cleaned a scrape above his eye.

“I miss you having the sense to turn away from exploding glass.”

“Go tell the Germans to quit shooting out our windscreens then.”

“Don’t pass the buck, Buck.”

Bucky examined his handiwork, gripping Buck’s chin to tilt his face this way and that. With a wink, he pronounced, “Still pretty.”

send me a sensory prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Masters of the Air #MotA #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven

[forasecondtherewedwon]

PJO, any pairing that strikes your fancy + the creak of leather, sorry I can’t remember the number

Hello!! Thank you for the prompt💕 It felt like a Percy and Sally one!

45: The creak of leather

There’s a piece of furniture Gabe never let Percy and his mother use. Not the recliner where he’d sit while he gambled, the impression of his ass so established it can only be compared to the crater left by the meteor that killed the dinosaurs. No, there’s a leather couch Gabe respected more than the human beings who outlived him.

Their first movie night post-Gabe, Percy’s mom bounces onto that couch and Percy leaps over the arm, spilling popcorn she unconcernedly brushes off the leather. She presses play and he leans against her, shoving his feet deep between the cushions.

send me a sensory prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #PJatO #Percy Jackson #Sally Jackson

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hello!

For Buck/Bucky, either:

- [ ] 11. Blood at the corner of your mouth; 64. Violet bruised eyes

-or-

- [ ] 32. The Smell of blood; 33. The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade

Thank you! ♥️

Hello! Thank you for the ask and the great choices!! I went with the first combo :)

“Lemme guess,” Gale said, sitting up in bed as John and Curt staggered into the barracks. “I should see the other guy?”

“I am the other guy,” Curt revealed. He didn’t look proud of himself.

“You hit him twice?”

The purple spreading below John’s eye told the story of a fist to the cheek, but, as Gale watched, John also licked a little blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Just once!” Curt protested. “The other was—”

John tried to get his hand over Curt’s mouth, but Curt fought him off.

“—John trippin’ drunk over his own feet!”

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #MotA #Masters of the Air #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Curtis Biddick

[forasecondtherewedwon]

all right THIS time bucky/buck. please? sensory prompt #62

Yes, alright 😘

62: Fingertips smudged in blue ink

The war is over for him, and he has gone to his rest.

I know, by his character, that he faced his end bravely.

He was much admired by his fellow airmen, and will be greatly missed here.

Bucky sat back from the table, rolling his neck until it cracked.

“I’m running out of ways to say it,” he announced. Wiping a hand across his forehead, he left a trail of ink.

Gale spat on his fingertips and reached over to rub the ink from Bucky’s skin.

“Doesn’t matter how you tell them,” Gale assured him. “Just that you do.”

send me a sensory prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Masters of the Air #MotA #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Bucky x Buck

[forasecondtherewedwon]

For the writing prompts: I'd love to see PJO + #47 (singing badly as loud as you can)

This is a great prompt lol Thank you!!

“PERCY!” Annabeth yells, marching up the trail with her hands over her ears.

“I heard you the first time,” he assures her.

“Then why didn’t you stop singing?” she demands.

Percy stares at her like she’s not making sense.

“Because that’s the job you gave me. Sing! Be the distraction! These woods have surprisingly good acoustics.”

“Well, we got the flag,” Annabeth informs him. “We won. You can stop now.”

She starts to walk away, then turns and adds, “And I never told you to sing ‘Baby Shark.’”

“But…” Percy points to himself. “Son of Poseidon.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

send me a prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #PJatO #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase

[forasecondtherewedwon]

hi! could u do Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging

for gale and john?

Sure can! Thanks, Anon :)

56: Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging

“You really as jealous as you look?” Gale joked, watching John watch Dye guide Lil to the dancefloor.

“I don’t look jealous.”

“I’m the one lookin’ at you, and I beg to differ.”

“Keep beggin’,” John dared. He tossed Gale a belligerent smile.

“Lil’s a nice girl…”

“’Course she’s nice! And she’s not my girl, so quit tiptoeing, Buck, Christ!”

“You can get possessive,” Blakely observed.

John turned to him like he couldn’t believe the audacity. Blakely glanced meaningfully from John to Gale, then buried his gaze in his tumbler.

“I’m not possessive,” John muttered.

Gale grinned.

“I don’t mind.”

send me a sensory prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Masters of the Air #MotA #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #John 'Bucky' Egan #Everett Blakely #Bucky x Buck

[forasecondtherewedwon]

A person’s weight as they lie on top of you

buck and bucky :)

Thanks for the prompt, Anon!! Uhhhh I went a little dark with it...

38: A person’s weight as they lie on top of you

Because the man was dead, Bucky thought he might be too, and if he was dead, then the man might be Buck. If there was any relief to be found while bumping along on a cart piled with corpses, head shot clean through with pain, Bucky felt it in the moment he thought they might have been reunited. He could keep his eyes shut and feel the weight of the head resting on him, thinking, We made it. Heaven or something like it.

And Buck would say, Guess they’ll let anybody in.

And he’d reply, Told ya. Me and you.

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#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Masters of the Air #MotA #John 'Bucky' Egan #Bucky x Buck

[forasecondtherewedwon]

JEALOUS PAXTON PLEASEE

You got it, babe!!

“I saw it, dude!” Paxton insists. “I saw the note in her hand!”

Trent nods, pensive.

“You’re sure it said ‘one free boink’?”

“Well, yeah, man. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so freaked out.”

“And remind me, my guy—why exactly are you so freaked out about the possibility of your ex banging little whatshisface?”

“I—” Paxton pauses. “I just… don’t like it.”

“Totally fair,” Trent assures him. “Besides, it probably said, like, ‘one free blink.’”

“‘One free blink’?” Paxton repeats skeptically.

“Yeah, or maybe ‘one free bonk.’ Dude, you’re lucky. She’s gonna whack the shit outta that guy’s head.”

send me a prompt about ANYTHING for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Never Have I Ever #NHIE #Paxton Hall-Yoshida #Trent Harrison #Daxton

[forasecondtherewedwon]

For the sensory prompts :

55 Finding old photographs you’d forgotten about

In Top Gun: Maverick, please !

Thank you!!

Mav doesn’t notice he’s crying, not right away.

When he does, he says, “Something in your eye?”—offering Bradley an out.

But Bradley says, “No, Mav,” and keeps looking at the photograph Mav pulled from the depths of his locker.

He sniffs and explains, “Everybody says how much I look like my dad. Nobody says, ‘Hey, you really look like your mom here.’”

“Well, ya do,” Mav insists.

He taps the photo, avoiding easy comparisons like the blond hair Bradley grew out of, and points to the lift of the eyebrows, the rare, genuine smile. Things adult Bradley still has.

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#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Top Gun #Top Gun: Maverick #Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

[forasecondtherewedwon]

friend can we please get more hannix (also you have so many fandoms that i love so i get so excited whenever i see your name in my fandoms on ao3

This is so sweet, thank you!!

“What’re you reading?” Phoenix asks, grabbing a seat in the sand before Hangman offers it. “Flying Planes for Dummies?”

He barks a laugh.

“Faster to just watch Rooster.”

She rolls her eyes instead of engaging, then cranes to see the page he’s angling away from her.

“Dracula?!”

“Say it,” Hangman sighs.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re gonna say.”

“Actually,” Phoenix decides, “it makes sense.”

“Because I suck?” he anticipates dryly.

“Because you left this last night,” she snaps, tilting her head to display a hickey.

“Oh, I literally suck,” he says with a grin. Admiring his handiwork, it’s hard to be sorry.

send me a prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Top Gun #Top Gun: Maverick #Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Phoenix x Hangman

[forasecondtherewedwon]

This very much could just be me but There Once Was a Pirate by Duncan Sheik (a deleted song from Spring Awakening) came up on shuffle and for some reason it made me think of Jack x Belle. Probably the sailing the sea and laden heart imagery but i’m having Thoughts 👀

Allow me to join you. 👀👀

“How’d he get himself assigned?”

“Best surgeon in Her Majesty’s Navy, that’s how.”

“Absolute loon. The hell’s he looking at?”

“Just stares into the water. Seen him at it yesterday. And the day before.”

Their mutters drone across the deck until the thunder comes, crushing them under its roll. He’s not as mad as they think, or so very different from them. Everyone’s fleeing something: poverty, responsibility, a signed death warrant. A death, plain and simple. One they couldn’t prevent.

Logic says Belle’s gone, but longing whispers that she’s there, there, there, there, adrift on the next, next, next wave.

send me a prompt about ANYTHING for one of these fandoms!

#it's not just you!!! #that song has big time Gothic nursery-rhyme vibes that to me scream Belle's dead and Jack is haunted by her memory #he returns to the sea but even there he cannot escape her because she's with him! and it's all in his head! #(but she's touching his chest now / he takes off her dress now)- no no I'm so sorry lol #Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #dodgerfox #The Artful Dodger

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Awesome prompt list I loved reading it!! May I ask for 24 or maybe 34 for Percabeth or anything Percy Jackson? :D

Thank you, friend 🩷 I picked 24: dust floating in golden sunlight!

Percy hopes this is the first and last time he sneezes on a dolphin. The ladder jerks beneath him, but Annabeth grabs hold, planting her foot on the lowest step. He snuffles. There was roughly a million years’ worth of dust particles collected on those dolphin vertebrae. Now they fill the air, burst like a nose-tickling supernova in a beam of light.

“Are you ok up there, Seaweed Brain?”

Percy inhales deeply (away from the dolphin), then sighs.

“You know,” he calls down, “this ‘clean your room’ thing is pretty unfair when you’re the only camper in the Poseidon cabin.”

send me a prompt for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #PJatO #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase

[forasecondtherewedwon]

If you’re taking prompts at all, or even ideas because my brain can’t stop thinking about this, I haven’t been able to get the song Touch Tank by Quiddie x Phoenix/Rooster out of my head!!! I mean, the line “He’s so pretty when he goes down on me” is fabulously, perfectly them, as is the rest of the chorus (Gold skinned, eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry/He tells me he’s gentle when he wants to be/So I think he wants to be gentle with me). No pressure, but I’d love to see something like this if you have the motivation and spoons!

This song was new to me, and a great prompt for these two! Thanks!! Hopefully this little drabble is better late than never!

She wants to wander down to the beach, but he leads her through his rented bungalow to the sun-drenched square-foot out back. Says, Sit, wait, rest, I was just gettin’ the laundry outta the dryer.

He comes back shrugging on a clean shirt, finds her in the rickety lawn chair, eyes closed behind oversized sunglasses, face tipped towards the heat. Stares. Mutters, Back, though she heard his feet on the stones. Just needs her to look up so he can crouch down.

She says, That’ll be hell on your knees, but hers part when he puts his hands on them.

send me a prompt about ANYTHING for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Top Gun #Top Gun: Maverick #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace #Rooster x Phoenix

[forasecondtherewedwon]

10, 15, 48, 95 for Rooster x Phoenix (I think this is how the prompt list works?)

Perfect, Anon 👌 Thanks!!

10. “I like it when you say my name like that.”

15. “Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

48. Amusement park

95. Confessing

“I used to rock this thing to freak my mom out,” Bradley confesses as their car reaches the top of the Ferris wheel.

“You’ve been a shithead your whole life, huh?”

He laughs, but when he looks down over the fairground, his sigh’s a little sad. A manipulative shithead.

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“We can rock it once,” she permits.

“Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.” But he’s already started.

“You fucking better stop when I— ROOSTER!”

“I like it when you say my name like that!” he cries, grinning as they pitch.

send me a prompt about ANYTHING for one of these fandoms!

#Second's midwinter cleanup #my writing #Top Gun #Top Gun: Maverick #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace #Rooster x Phoenix