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roosterforme · 4 months

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The Intern Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley had an easy way about him that you appreciated. Working for him all summer sounded promising, and you were determined to make it fun for both of you. But as you dipped your toes into getting to know one another on the flights from San Diego to Lisbon, you ended up closer to him than you ought to be, both conversationally and physically.

Warnings: Language, brief mention of drugs (eventually 18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

"I still can't believe someone is paying me fifty thousand dollars to spend my summer on a yacht," you mused as the private Cessna jet gained altitude over the California desert landscape.

Bradley turned and looked at you from his plush leather seat across the narrow aisle and smirked. "You needed the money that badly?"

"Don't play games," you told him, and he laughed. "My point is, I would have done this for free just to get Ted off my back."

His fingers tightened a bit on his armrest, knuckles growing white as he closed his eyes and said, "Now you tell me. My department budget could be looking a lot fatter right now if it wasn't for you."

You could feel the airplane leveling out as the flight attendant, a woman named Melissa, stood and made her way back toward the two of you. "Oh please," you groaned, earning one of those grins from him that made you feel light inside. "I know how much the shareholders make, Mr. Bradshaw. It's not like it's not listed on the Nasdaq Composite if you dig deep enough."

"Can I get anything for either of you?" Melissa asked.

"I'll take an Old Fashioned, please. Hold the cherries," you replied while Bradley just shook his head in a jerky motion.

When Melissa disappeared behind the black curtain, you asked, "Why are you so tense? Have a drink and relax."

He huffed out a laugh. "It's eight in the morning. A drink is not going to help me."

You leaned a little closer, and his gaze definitely dipped down to your unzipped sweatshirt. "Don't tell me you're into something harder?" you asked, already thinking you'd be disappointed by his answer. You'd been there and done that. Hung out with and dated guys who were users, and it was not something you wanted to be around. Even out of your sorority sisters, there were only a handful who weren't high all week during grad school.

Bradley looked at you with alarm. "I'm absolutely not going to allow drugs on the yacht, Ivy League."

"Good," you replied right away, already feeling more at ease as Melissa dropped off your cocktail. "Thank you."

But she was looking at Bradley now as she said, "Please let me know if I can get you... anything."

He waved her off as you took a sip of your mediocre cocktail. Melissa had gone a little heavy handed with the bitters, probably because she was too focused on your hot boss to measure things correctly. "Take a sip," you told him, reaching across the aisle with your glass. "You look like you need it."

He grunted and accepted the drink, and a few seconds later, he had downed the whole thing. "Thanks," he whispered. "I hate this part of traveling to Europe for Avio. The flights are going to take forever."

You narrowed your eyes at him and took back your empty glass while he white knuckled the armrest again. "You were an aviator, Mr. Bradshaw."

When he looked at you again, his cheeks were a little flushed as he softly said, "You don't have to call me that. Bradley is fine."

"Bradley," you said with a smile, and his face softened a little bit. "Why don't you like the Cessna? I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also hoping for something at least a little more luxurious from Avio, but it's not that bad."

He shook his head at you, something you were pretty sure you were just going to have to get used to for the summer. But his mustache twitched as he licked his lips and said, "Maybe chartered flights are normal for you, Ivy League, but I got used to being the pilot. Of something much less comfortable than a Cessna Hemisphere. So this just feels inherently wrong to me. I mean, I just drank a cocktail."

"Inhaled," you corrected. "And technically it was my cocktail," you said, waving to Melissa and holding up the glass and two fingers.

"Semantics," he grunted. "I miss my Super Hornet right now. Not only were there no drinks, there wasn't even a bathroom."

You watched Melissa duck behind the curtain again, probably to forget how to make a cocktail again. "Well, we'll be there soon," you told Bradley.

"I doubt these pilots can do Mach 2, so not fast enough for me."

You sighed, knowing this would probably be a lot easier for him if you could get him to drink a second Old Fashioned, but when Melissa dropped two more of them off, they were both garnished with a cherry. "I asked you to hold the cherries."

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Melissa muttered. "I can remove it for you."

"I'm allergic, so I'll actually need you to remake mine," you replied, and Bradley started to hand his back as well.

"Remake hers, and mine too," he grunted, suddenly looking far less nervous about the flight as he made to stand up. "Fresh glasses and everything. I don't want cherries anywhere near her." You looked up at him in surprise as he kind of rolled his eyes and followed Melissa. "I'll make sure she does it right," he whispered, and you watched him walk up to the curtain, as confident as he usually was.

"Thanks," you replied, even though nobody was there to hear you now. Well, he had promised he'd do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable. You watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, and you pressed your lips together. That blue Oxford shirt was the exact best color he could possibly wear, and you wondered if he knew it or if it was an accident that he chose it.

When he met your eyes, you didn't look away. You didn't really care if he knew you were checking him out. Until you did. Because when he walked back with two new drinks, you realized how little you knew about him. "Here," he grunted, voice deep and raspy. Then he clinked his glass to yours before sinking back into the aisle seat opposite yours again and buckling his seatbelt once more.

"Thanks for doing that."

He smiled at you. "Can't lose my intern on her first day. Especially since I've never had one before."

You perked up, loving that you'd cornered the market. "I'm your first intern?"

"Yeah." He was back to downing his drink and looking miserable now, practically throwing the empty glass aside in favor of gripping the armrest. Abandoning your drink after one sip, you stood and stepped over his outstretched legs, his eyes following your every move as you eased yourself down into the window seat next to him. "You okay?" he asked, looking a little amused now that you were just inches away from him.

"I am, but you're not," you told him with an air of authority. "Just relax," you added as you took his hand from the armrest and held it in both of yours. His brown eyes went a little wider, and his lips parted like he wanted to say something. Probably question what you were doing. But you said, "You'll feel better in a few minutes," as you worked your thumbs along the pressure points in his big, rough palm. And then he closed his eyes and without a word, he leaned back in his seat with his hand cradled in yours. Soon he was sound asleep.

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

Bradley woke up to an almost pleasant humming sound all around him. His hand was warm and wrapped up in something soft, and when he opened his eyes, your face was just a few inches from his as you slept. His body thrummed with something akin to desire as you pursed your haughty lips in your sleep, long lashes grazing your perfect cheeks.

Shit. His hand was resting on your body, fingers tangled up with yours and wrapped in your designer hoodie. His knuckles were pressed to the soft skin which was exposed between your high waisted pants and your damn sports bra. And based on the way the plane was started to descend, he'd taken a five fucking hour nap all cuddled up with his intern. With Ted's goddamn daughter.

Hands off. He'd been telling himself to keep his hands off of you, and just a few hours in, he was literally doing the exact opposite. But you'd been sweet to him, carefully massaging the pressure points in his hand until he was able to fall asleep. You must have drifted off then, too. And now he was loath to remove his hand from your body or look away from you.

He needed another fucking drink. Or several. He leaned carefully over you, and sure enough, he could see the New York skyline coming into view through the small window. And he could smell your perfume. And that was when you opened your eyes, immediately sitting up a few inches and nearly bumping noses with him.

"Sorry," he grunted. "I was just trying to see where we were."

"Where are we?" you asked, your voice soft and a little rough from sleep. Jesus, he liked the way that sounded.

"Almost to New York. Want me to ask the pilot to circle back to Philly so you can wave to your alma mater?"

You laughed and sat up a little more, arching your back, but you didn't immediately let go of him. "No, thank you. I've only been gone for a week, so I'm sure the City of Brotherly Love is enjoying this break."

Bradley found himself continually laughing at your words, but now you were looking at his hand all linked with yours, so he started to pull his free. You didn't stop him, and when you looked up at him, you even asked, "Did you sleep okay?"

He nodded his head once. "I did. Thank you. For making me feel better."

You sat up the rest of the way and stretched, and he had to look away as you said, "A good intern is good at everything."

Your words weren't dirty, so why the hell were his thoughts? He should be trying to find out more about your father, not imagining you wearing a fluffy white bathrobe while you drank an Old Fashioned sans cherry next to his bed. He was miles away in his mind when the plane touched down on the runway before taxiing to the refueling spot. His stomach was growling wildly now as Melissa walked back and offered them a very late lunch.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," she said, looking between you and Bradley like the two of you had been all over each other. When she turned away to get the salads and sandwiches ready, you climbed over him to use the bathroom, and Bradley watched you ignore a phone call as you went. He also realized that he'd have to tread very carefully around potential clients over the next few weeks. It was one thing for Melissa to make a comment like that, but it would be something entirely different if a line like that got back to Ted.

While the plane was refueled and the pilots switched places for the longer flight from New York to Portugal, you and he ate in companionable silence. You'd returned to your seat across the aisle, and you ignored another call before tucking your phone away in your bag. Bradley also used this time to drink a gin and tonic in the hopes he'd be able to sleep again, slightly afraid you wouldn't join him on his side of the aisle to make him feel cozy again.

"We'll be taking off again in five minutes," Melissa informed him as she cleared away the meal and brought pillows and blankets. Your phone was out again now, and you ignored yet another call as Bradley shook his head.

"Are you going to keep me up at all hours of the night on the yacht yelling at your little boyfriend on the phone?"

You scoffed and looked right at him as you said, "I don't date little boys. Are you going to keep me up calling your wife and kids back in San Diego?"

He didn't want to laugh at the way you talked to him and kept him on his toes. He also registered that the way you'd let him hold your hand while he slept had only come from a platonic place if you were just now asking if he was married. "I don't have a wife or kids."

"Why not?" you asked, leaning on your armrest with your tits smashed together. "You could be married. If you wanted. You're tall and you have all your hair."

"Are those the only prerequisites?" he asked, trying not to look anywhere other than at your face. God, your little bikinis were going to be the absolute death of him if he didn't get fucking laid soon.

"No," you replied without missing a beat. "You're smart, too. Handsome. Tons of money. And you seem nice. Good manners. You make me laugh. Seems like someone would have snapped you up off the market by now."

His cheeks felt warm again as he tried to figure out how to answer. You'd just complimented him nine different ways, and he was reeling a bit. "Because I was in the Navy. Nobody in their right mind would trust a Navy guy with that level of commitment."

"Why not?"

"They lie and they cheat," he said, repeating the lines women had been telling him since he was twenty two. "Nobody you'd want to settle down with."

But you didn't look convinced as your smile tilted a little higher on one side. "Are you a cheater?"

He knew somehow he wouldn't get away with speaking anything but the plain truth to you from here on out. "No."

"I didn't think so." You looked satisfied as you settled back in your seat, about to snuggle under your blanket. The sky was a little darker now, and there was nothing below except for the Atlantic Ocean.

He had a slight buzz from the gin, and he felt a lot better than he had earlier this morning. He reached for his bag and pulled out his laptop before crooking his finger and coaxing you back to the seat next to him. "We have a little work to do, Ivy League."

While he expected you to complain, you didn't. Rather you popped out of your seat with your pillow and blanket, climbed over him and settled in the window seat once more. "What is it?" you asked eagerly, and when he logged in to his email account, he saw something from Ted right away. Just a reminder to keep himself on track.

"I'm going to teach you a little bit about the Avio software we will be marketing, so by the time we land in Lisbon, you'll know as much as I do."

You curled up with your pillow and blanket and looked at him, your words doing more to him than you probably intended. "Don't test me, Sir, or I may end up knowing more than you."

"You're a brat."

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

This time when you woke up, it wasn't to Bradley's touch or his brown eyes. This time it was to Melissa's laughter and Bradley's soft voice. "When are you flying back to the states?" she asked him as you cracked your eyes open.

"Not any time soon," he replied smoothly. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Well I hope I'm on your flight back," she said flirtatiously as you propped your head up.

But Bradley wasn't paying attention to her now as he turned your way. "You're up," he mused, and you just nodded, wishing you'd had time to shower or check how you looked before he saw you. "We'll be landing soon. And then we'll get you and your designer luggage to the yacht."

You watched Melissa roll her eyes at you before she stood. "I'll be right back with coffee and some breakfast."

"Hold the cherries! Please!" you reminded her, just to be obnoxious. When she pretended she didn't hear you, Bradley chuckled. "You know, it's kind of refreshing being given an attitude. Is this how you feel when I give you one?"

His eyes went a little wider. "Don't make me call your father."

"I thought you valued your intern," you replied with a smirk. "So don't make me spread that nasty little rumor around Avio that you went to the University of Bumblefuck."

"Virginia," he snorted.

"Whatever."

Melissa dropped off mugs, a carafe of coffee, cream, sugar and pastries. "No cherry," she said blandly as you reached for a blueberry muffin.

"Much appreciated," you replied as you peeled back the wrapper and took a nibble while Bradley ate an apple danish in two bites before he poured coffee into both mugs. Clearly the two of you were hungry. You also had no idea what time it was. You had to put your phone on silent since your dad wouldn't stop calling you, even though you told him you'd talk to him when you got on the yacht.

"How do you take your coffee?" Bradley asked as you silently chewed. You went to reach for the creamer, but he pulled it away and looked at you.

You swallowed down your muffin and said, "Cream and sugar, but you don't have to do it. I should probably be doing it for both of us."

He shrugged and got your coffee fixed up exactly the way you would have made it yourself, as he said, "You and I will be working in close proximity, and I feel like this is the kind of detail I should know."

"Well how do you take your coffee?" you asked, but he set down the cream and sugar without adding anything to his. "Black, no sugar."

"Black, no sugar," he confirmed before taking a sip. You watched the alluring scars on his neck as he swallowed, once again surprised that he wasn't married. He didn't seem as helpless as your father, but he seemed like the kind of person who should have someone warm at home when he returned from work each night. Someone to look after him.

You took a sip of your own coffee and smiled, because it really was perfect, especially for something that was made on an aircraft. "Thank you."

"Any time," he responded, and you eased back in your seat and looked out the window as the Portuguese coastline came into view. You drank your coffee and picked at the muffin, watching as the very early morning sun made the Atlantic Ocean glitter. There were marinas filled with yachts and sailboats, and you wondered if Avio's was amongst them.

"Were you on the yacht with my dad last year?" you mused as the plane dipped lower in the sky.

Bradley set his mug down, and maybe it was just you, but his features suddenly seemed a little guarded. You'd always been good at reading people, which made it easy to get a favorable response when you needed one. But he'd never looked at you this way before. "For a few days. One of my buddies from the Navy was there too. Jake Seresin."

You blinked and his expression was neutral again. "The name sounds familiar."

Bradley laughed as the plane touched down. "The face will be familiar, too. Soon enough. He's champing at the bit to get onboard for a few days here and there this summer."

You set your mug down as well and said, "Don't worry, Sir. I'll dazzle him to bits during the dinner parties."

Bradley's nostrils flared, and his pupils grew wider. "I don't doubt that."

When you laughed, he smiled before looking down at his hands. "Well, Bradley, I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get on the yacht. I wonder what kind of caviar the chef will serve for lunch."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, prompting him to do the same. "There are different kinds of caviar?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he picked up your tote and handed it to you.

"Don't embarrass me, Bradley. The other interns will all laugh at me behind my back."

But he just shook his head as he moved to the side and said, "After you, Ivy League." So you led the way to the front of the aircraft, thanked both pilots and Melissa, even though she clearly didn't like you, and you climbed down the stairs onto the warm tarmac.

You shouldn't and absolutely couldn't keep reacting to Bradley the way you were, but when he placed his hand on your lower back and said, "This way," you nearly moaned. You looked up at him as he tried to guide you toward the waiting limousine. "Go climb in. I'll grab the bags."

"I can get my own bags," you insisted.

"I know you can, but you have nine hundred of them, and I'm still hungry, and I can do it faster."

"Fine," you replied, and you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked toward the driver who was holding the back door open for you. "Thank you." As you slid across the leather seat, you watched Bradley effortlessly lift multiple pieces of your luggage at the same time while you bit your lip. What the hell was it about him? You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but he was enjoyable to watch. His voice made you feel a little fuzzy. He was raw and genuine like your favorite pair of well worn Levi's which were tucked away in your Dior suitcase he was carrying with one massive hand.

You looked away. You counted to ten. You already knew this was going to be an issue, so you weren't sure why it was hitting you now. When you glanced his way again, he was bringing his own two, nondescript pieces of luggage to the limousine trunk, and then he was sliding across the seat next to you.

"Twenty minutes to the marina from here," he murmured, his hand coming to rest on the seat next to your thigh. "And then we can get to work."

You pursed your lips. "I was under the impression we would be playing, too."

He chuckled as you started to look through the compartments next to the seat. "We can play a little bit."

You opened what turned out to be an ice chest, and ran your fingers along a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon. "We can start with this," you said, pulling it free from the ice and holding it up.

He was looking at you, not the bottle, but that little twitch of his mustache was his tell. Even though his eyes seemed stern, he held out his hand, and asked, "Think we can finish it in twenty minutes?"

You smiled brilliantly as you handed it to him. "Don't ever ask me that again."

"Sassy," he muttered, unwrapping the foil and slowly twisting the cage loose before wiggling the cork free with his big hands until it popped. "Here you go."

"No," you insisted as the driver pulled out onto the main road. "You first. Drink to a successful summer."

Bradley nodded once and took a sip before handing you the bottle. His eyes were on your lips as you pressed them to the bottle where his had just been. "To a successful summer," he echoed, his voice a deep rumble as the city went by in a blur. You couldn't stop smiling, and neither could he, and approximately eighteen minutes later, when he helped you out of the limousine, his cheeks were flushed pink.

"Is that it?" you asked, very slowly removing your hand from his as two men rushed your way in matching gray shorts and navy polos. There was a massive yacht with Down to Business lettered across the back and Avio Technologies along the side.

"That's it," Bradley confirmed, slipping his black sunglasses on as he reached to shake hands with the two men who introduced themselves as Antonio and Nikolai. Bradley told them your name, and they both took your hand in turn. "She's my intern for the summer," he said smoothly, and then they started to unload your luggage.

"Let's go," you said, glancing back at Bradley as you started down toward the marina gate, and then he was right next to you again with a few long strides. "I hope you can find your Armani swim shorts quickly, because that pool is calling my name."

"I can, actually. One of the benefits to only bringing two suitcases." He helped you over the gap, and as soon as you were on the yacht, you felt at home. You knew this was going to be the summer you needed.

"Let's go meet the captain," he murmured, his hand finding your back again.

"Do you think he has more champagne?"

"Ivy... it's nine in the morning."

"I'm still on San Diego time."

Bradley paused for a beat while he did the math. "It's one in the morning back home."

"Exactly," you told him with a little pout that you knew wouldn't actually faze him. He just smiled as he guided you past the pool you couldn't wait to jump into and an enormous jacuzzi. You walked through a dining room that could seat twelve people and past a fully stocked bar. It was like the best offerings from your sorority house and your dad's estate all rolled into one.

"Welcome aboard!" boomed a voice with a French accent. "We've been expecting you. I'm Captain Marcell." He was probably in his sixties with gray hair and a matching beard, and he reminded you a bit of your favorite professor at UPenn.

"Pleasure," you replied, shaking his hand after Bradley told him your name.

Next to him were lined up two friendly looking women, one with short brown hair and one with long brown hair. Beatriz and Lucia, the stewardesses, would be taking care of everything you needed. And next to them was an attractive man wearing a bit of a scowl.

"I'm Rocco. The chef. I can make anything. I don't like changing the menu at the last minute."

Oh, you liked him already as you shook his hand. And then your heart fluttered as Bradley said, "I need to speak with you about removing any cherries from the yacht before we leave the marina."

"Cherries?" Rocco asked, scowling deeper.

Bradley glanced at you as he removed his sunglasses, and his mustache twitched. "Yes. Can't have any onboard. That applies to the kitchen and the bars. My intern has an allergy."

"I'll take care of it," Rocco replied before turning away, and you'd never been more certain that someone would take care of something in your life. Then Captain Marcell handed Bradley a folder.

"Rough itinerary. Weather report for the week. List of phone numbers. Please let me know how long you'd like to spend in each port. I can of course adjust anything as needed. Now if you will select your cabins, Antonio and Nikolai will deliver your luggage."

"Thank you," Bradley replied, handing the folder to you. "You're in charge of this. Now why don't we head down so you can choose a room?" He nodded his head toward a wide set of stairs.

You walked down to the lower deck, and once you and he were alone again, he pointed to the left. "The sooner we get settled, the sooner the swim trunks come out?" you asked softly.

"Something like that." His soft chuckle was right behind you as you stopped at a mint green door with gold trim.

"Is this my room?" you asked, placing your hand on the doorknob. There was a little keypad next to it.

"If you want it to be," he replied. "Or, there are three others you can choose from."

"Which one are you taking?"

His eyes flitted from your face to a spot a little further down the hallway. "White door."

When you turned to investigate, you saw a pink door directly across from that one. "Wouldn't it be easier if my room was near yours?"

"Probably." His expression was neutral, but that damn mustache was giving him away.

"I'll take the pink one."

"Very good. I'll get the room codes from Beatriz, and I'll tell them where to deliver the luggage."

"Great," you replied, still standing close to him, but he didn't move.

"Perfect," he said, brown eyes focused on yours. The hallway was narrow, and now he was placing his hands on his trim hips, taking up even more space. "Try not to get into too much trouble while you look around."

Finally he turned toward the stairs, but you called his name right away. "Bradley?" He glanced back over his shoulder with a questioning look. "Thanks for mentioning the cherries."

"Sure," he replied easily. "I got you, Ivy." Then he was walking back up the stairs and out of sight.

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

We are about to set sail. Let's get into a little trouble. Let's have a little fun. Already feeling a little tension between Bradley and Ivy League. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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tasteracha · 1 year

Text

gates of hell

word count: 2.2k

warnings: afab!reader, soft dom!minho, demon!minho, edging, minor degradation, minor manhandling, reader is called good girl, teasing, smut - MINORS DNI

synopsis: minho is the demon that welcomes you into hell

so, this is your third week in hell.

you remember your first day; it’s wasn’t the barren wasteland you would have expected. it wasn’t even that dark - you’d spent hours in clubs, sweaty faces illuminated by strobing lights, darker than this.

it looked like something out of a fairy tale, tall cliffs shrouded in fluffy clouds, sun rays shining down on luscious red trees, and set of black shining stairs leading up to a tall grey castle completing the picture. you honestly would have mistaken this for heaven if it weren’t for the demon standing next to you, your single person welcoming party.

not that you were complaining; he was single-handedly the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. dark blue tinted hair swooped down over his forehead, just touching the long eyelashes around his round black eyes, high cheekbones and a sharp chin. a pouty mouth, lips full, pulled into a smirk stopped you from saying anything. he looked cocky enough, there’s no need to add more fire to the flames.

you didn’t realize that you’d been staring for too long until a pair of black wings materialized behind him, feathers fluffing a bit, and you stepped back in shock. you don’t know why you were shocked, you knew he was a demon, his eyes were completely black. that didn’t stop you from taking another step back when he spread his wings out.

“shall we?” he said, voice impossibly soft as he steps towards you, negating the space you had just made between you. these are the only words he’d spoken to you since he met you at the gates, when he muttered ‘welcome to hell’ before leading you to the base of the stairs. he didn’t wait for you to answer before swiping you into his arms in an impossible display of strength. the ground left your feet again when he took off into the air, black wings stretched out behind him as you gained altitude. you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, pressing your face into his chest as you try not to scream.

when he landed, you scrambled away from him as quickly as you could, glaring daggers at him as you got your heart rate under control.

“what, did you want to walk all the way up those?” he quirked a brow at you, nodding towards the hundreds of stairs he just flew you over.

“some warning would have been nice,” you grumbled, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. of course you got stuck with a demon guide you can’t stand, even after knowing him for only five minutes.

“well!” he clapped his hands, completely ignoring your indignation as he lead you inside the tall doors. it’s barren inside, a single glowing door in the middle of swirling pools of black water. he stopped at it, reaching for the doorknob. “you have your own room, of course. this door will take you to it, it recognizes you when you touch it.”

he opened the door and - it’s your bedroom. cleaner than it’s been in months, posters still on the walls and plushies lining the floor by your closet.

“you’re free to do what you want here.” he placed a hand on your shoulder when you take no move to walk into the room with him. “like an extended hotel stay. there’s a pool on the third floor.”

“is there wi-fi here?” you say, trailing a hand over your desk and stopping at your laptop. he stepped towards the door, ignoring your question.

that was the last you had heard from him since you got here. you woke up the next morning to a sticky note with a password written on it, but the two of you hadn’t exchanged words since. you’ve seen him lurking around the castle as you explore, hiding behind pillars and corners with his dark eyes trailed on you, but he never approaches you. you’re curious about him, and even after you’ve gotten all of your questions answered by other residents you’ve met (no, you don’t age here; no, you can’t get pregnant; yes, you can still feel pain; yes, can still eat) you find yourself with an endless list of others about him.

even as you try and keep him off of your mind, the days bleeding into on another with you spending your time discovering your new home, you can’t. his face is burned into your mind, you see him in your dreams, behind your eyelids when you close them, in your mind when you touch yourself in the deepest hours of the night. so you look for him. you creep around the corners he’s been inhabiting, behind the walls you’ve sensed him looking at you from, but he’s never there. you see him sometimes, but by the time you blink he’s gone. he’s avoiding you, now?

or, you thought he was, until he shows up at your door one night, just as you were in the middle of one of the shows you’ve started with your newfound endless time here. he pushes past you and shuts the door behind him when you fail to greet him, mouth slack at his unexpected appearance.

“have you ever fucked a demon?” he says abruptly, hand trailing down your back but looking straight in front of him with a blank face like he didn’t ask you one of the lewdest questions you’ve ever heard. weeks of dancing around each other, him staring at you like he wanted to eat you, and this is what he starts with?

“well, considering i didn’t know you existed until a few weeks ago, no.” you snark back, shivering when his nails dig into the back of your shirt.

“do you want to?” he looks at you, black eyes wide. “i’ve never fucked a human.”

and who were you to say no to that? he was there and insanely hot, and there were surely worse ways to spend your time in hell. you nod.

the next thing you feel is the whoosh of wind against your ears as he flings you onto the bed, immediately crawling on top of you.

his clawed hand rips open the front of your shirt, and he drowns your protests with a searing kiss, making every one of your nerve endings light up. you didn’t know if it was that you were in hell or that it was him, but his touch felt more intense than anything you’ve felt before.

he swallows your gasp as he rakes his nails down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. your kiss is broken when he grabs your hips and hikes you up further on the bed so he can straddle you; the sight of him leaning over you with his dark wings furled against his back makes him look more like an angel than a demon.

“don’t need these right now,” he makes a show of holding his hand up in front of you, making you watch as he retracts the claws until he’s left with human fingernails, painted black. his hands, impossibly soft, discard the tattered remains of your shirt and pop open the button of your jeans. he pulls them down with your panties in one smooth move, leaving you completely bare and exposed in front of him. you can’t bring yourself to be shy: you’re already dead, what’s the worst that could happen?

he moves to mouth at your throat hungrily, teeth nipping into your skin as he moves lower and lower. you’re squirming under him, your fingers tangled into his hair to pull him closer or pull him away, you don’t even know.

“are you always this sensitive?” he asks, blowing on your nipple and making you shiver. “makes me want to take my time with you. find out exactly where i can touch to drive you crazy.”

you don’t answer. you can’t. your thoughts are so scrambled already, it’s a wonder you can even remember your own name - he’s already driven you mad and he hasn’t even done anything.

a gasp is ripped from your throat when his fingers dip into your folds, exploring gently in clever circles. when you look down at him he’s wearing that smirk and you drag him up by his hair to kiss him. his fingers continue to work, not deterred by the way you’ve started humping into him.

“desperate little thing, aren’t you?” he mumbles into your lips, making you bite at his with a spark of anger. he speeds up in retaliation, dipping his fingers into you finally, digging in just right until you can feel the tightness about to snap and - he stops. you let out a dry sob as your body deflates into your mattress, panting and entirely unsatisfied.

“i know you’ve never fucked a human, but you do know how this works right?” you complain once you get your breath back.

“hmm,” he pulls back, trailing his slick hand against your lips, chuckling when you open your mouth to suck on his fingertips. it’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done, you’re pretty sure. “i know exactly what i’m doing.”

you’re suddenly aware of how he’s fully clothed, and you fumble at his clothes with shaking hands. in a blink of an eye, his black shirt and trousers are gone, leaving sculpted muscles and thick thighs in your sight. one of his hands pin your wrists above your head, the other reading down to guide his cock to your entrance. he rubs the tip through your folds, teasing.

“please,” you whine, arching your back when he catches on your clit, sensitive and tingling.

“there you are,” he coos, pressing into you slowly. “i knew you would beg so prettily. and all it took was a little bit of teasing?”

you want to be angry, his words should make you angry, but with him fully sheathed inside of you all you can do is nod and hope the tears pooling up in your eyes won’t drip out. he starts out at a brutal pace, pushing little ah-ah-ah’s of you in punched breaths.

“minho, darling,” his voice croons into your ear as he rocks into you in his steady rhythm.

“hmm?” you breathe out in between gasps - he’s filling you so well, like he was made just for you, made to fit the contours of your body, made to lie beside you.

“the name you can scream out,” he supplies with a sharp thrust that hits you just right, sending sparks shooting up your spine. “or, you can just call me sir, if you like that.”

“fuck you,” you seethe, holding back a pathetic whine when he stops completely. a hand winds itself around your throat, squeezing the sides gently, not enough to restrict your breathing but the thought that he could without batting an eye makes your heart beat faster.

“is that any way to speak to your demon, honey?” his voice is as syrupy as the name he calls you. you wish for a moment that you could see his eyes past the black galaxies you’re looking into. “you were being such a good girl a few moments ago.”

“mine…?” you trail off as he picks his pace back up, not giving you a second to readjust.

“been waiting for you,” he grunts out, leaning down into you to lick and nip at the shell of your ear. “made for you.”

it’s the first break in his facade, the guttural emotion with which he said those words makes your body burn with desire. he releases your wrists when you tug, letting you wrap your arms around him, your blunt nails scratching down his back. when they reach the place where his wings meet his back he shudders, a full body thing and the new power you hold in your hands sends your mind reeling.

you feel your high building up again, and you scream his name when he hides his face in your neck as his thrusts become uneven. his breath is ragged, coming out in hot pants against you, and he bites down as he releases inside of you. his wings unfurl, spreading out behind him in a display of dark power. the sight of them mixed with the sharp pain from his teeth pushes you over the edge and you come around him, feeling him shudder against you as you milk him dry.

he slumps against you, wings surrounding you and shrouding the two of you in safe darkness as he keeps his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing you. he tilts his face towards yours to give you a soft kiss, a contrast to every way he’s touched you so far. your brain is still fuzzy from your orgasm, stronger than any you’ve experienced before. he nuzzles his face into your neck sweetly, whispering apologies to you when you wince as he pulls out of you. you hum in response, closing your eyes.

"did i fuck the life back into you?" he teases, soothing the biting remark with another kiss to your jaw.

"shut up," you shoot back, no heat in your words. "you're the one who said you were made for me."

“i’ve waited years to do that,” he says, curling up into your side. “waited years for you.”

“you’re my demon soulmate?” you breath out, giggling at the absurdity of it. there's no way its true, right?

“yes.” he says, completely serious. it sobers you, and you tilt his head towards you to see him. brown human eyes stare back at you, emotions freely reflecting back at you.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee minho smut #lee know smut #stray kids hard thoughts #lee know x reader #stray kids x y/n

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corvusspecialartist · 2 months

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Beautiful Caged Bird:

You were an esteemed fighter pilot. You have served the Imperium well, ever since you were inducted in the Imperial Guard years ago. Coming from semi noble birth, this would have been one of the few ways, you could gain glory for your house. Ever since you were young, and on your home planet. You have always enjoyed the flight patterns of hunting birds, and even kept some as cherished pets. You always thought that they were the most perfect predators, just beautiful. Unfortunately, as you grew older, and life taught you a few things… you were wrong. The perfect avian predator that you knew of, was the Lord Primarch Sanguinius.

You were on campaign when you had met… you and your regiment were fighting a wild Eldar Host To be honest, you never truly liked them bastards, but you were the closest thing that was optimal air support that could be done. You were flying high in the air, approaching certain doom. You flew in formation, but soon you both would break. From previous experience, you knew, despite the thought being mere disgust in your mind… that the Eldar had better flying tech.. but no matter. You were only meant as cannon fodder no more, no less.

Then, as the Eldar came, before your eyes, your comrades were shot down in planes, almost as if a group of falcons were feasting on herd of ducks. But, no matter what, you held firm. Gripping the well-worn controls, you bobbed and weaved, avoiding most of the fire from the enemy craft. You knew the cockpit of your plane as if it was new limb. You swooped down noticing a large robot thing… instinctively you patted the plane purring to it. "Lets do this old girl" maybe, this was a way for you to soothe the machine spirit. You went and started to fly down.. applying as many G's as you could handle bumping up the speed into a dive bomb. The robot thing, turned and almost seemed to face you, but you turned your controls over trying to spin it over. It was no matter, you were a certified ace in the field. You had the trophies as proof.

However, things did not go to your plan. The robot thing moved with lighting speed and soon you noticed that you were loosing altitude quickly. You had to eject. After whispering a quick goodbye to the plane, you ejected from the plane. Honestly it pained you…watching as the plane flew and crashed. It gave you some form of pleasure that it landed in the center of the Eldar. Still… you adjusted trying to get your parachute out. Feeling, the blood go towards your head.. you noted that your parachute wasn't working and you felt the heated air as you started to fall and fall… You turned and closed your eyes, hopefully, at least you took some of the bastards with you.

Honestly, you were expecting brief pain, and oblivion until you felt wind and you started to move in a different direction. Nervously you opened your eyes… it was him.. the Great Angel,Lord Sanguinius. He was almost as perfect and even more so in the pictures… but honestly.. him.. just saving you like that… why you? You tried your best to not to look down. However, he was holding you in the crook of his arm, while holding his spear in the other hand. As you looked up at him, he was moving back to try and place you back in your regiment, at least you thought.

Now, you were in a golden gilded cage, screaming your head off and throwing the priceless art and trinkets at Sanguinius. It bounced off of him with almost a contemptuous ease, he seemed to stand there, just absorbing the hit.. almost as if he was he waiting for this latest tantrum to end. You continued to move quickly, just barely out of the reach of the serfs. Truly, you didn't want to be here, you wanted to be out on the field. The stagnant air within the room, the watchful eyes of both man and machine readying the alarm if you stepped out of the chambers. To add insult to injury, you swore that would could hear beautiful rare bird calls, as they flew down and called the sky their own.. like you used to. You walked up the Sanguinius and tried to push your way past him, but he moved to block you, and soon he quickly scooped you up. In that move you struggled and beat down on his back. He started to hum and soothe, moving you back and forth. His voice, it was so sonorous and beautiful…it knocked you out within a minute.

In your dreams, you were flying your plane… and you were just soaring. Until you saw the Sanguinius appear floating in front of the window. Instinctively you turned and tried to avoid him, but he pulled out the spear and sword and chopped the plane apart. Now you were falling and falling, as Sanguinius flew down and caught you. You pushed away and tried to fall back into the ground. You were at peace in the dream, until you woke up, smothered in Sanguinius' wings. It was comfortable but despite them being placed gently, it felt crushing… you felt your heart racing, as you moved in varying directions trying to push them off." Sanguinius, almost as if he were sensing your distress lifted his wing. You let out a sigh of relief, and let out a small welp as he grabbed you and started to preen over you.

He gave a softening grin. "What's wrong darling?… I heard you scream and freak out.. and are you alright?" You opened your mouth, trying to keep your heart rate consistent. But it would be hard to lie to him, since his abilities.. but he promised to not to read your mind. "It was just a nightmare…. my beloved." You gave a wide mouth smile, trying to sell the lie. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself. Sanguinius got up and pointed to a red dress. It was tailor made with hundreds of jewels and it fit your figure well. "We will be going to an event tonight… many dignitaries are coming. Our ship will be landing on the planet soon…" You nodded dumbly, as he got up and left.

As soon as he shut the door… you swore, but then you stopped… maybe… just maybe with Sanguinius being distracted you could escape. And it is not like he would miss you… You got dressed and started to prepare. Soon you would escape.

At the party, the host went and announced the arrival of Lord Sanguinius.. and with a small snide jab. "And his current consort." You gave a polished smile as you stood near barely hip height with him, and to be honest... he looked almost mythical.. his wings were decorated with finely golden strands with rubies inter spaced which made small noises as he walked. He wore a more Baalite fashion style, which many of the party goers tried to imitate. He wore beautiful embroidered robes with silken golden thread. His hair was curled into perfection, and you could even smell rare perfumes and spices that irradiated from him. It seemed to change depending on the light from black to blonde, he was smiling a warmly as you both went to the place of honor. You on the other hand compared to him, dressed very modestly and seemed to a speck of dirt. But, it didn't matter at the moment. It was a crucial moment... Sanguinius would naturally be distracted throughout the whole party.

It would come to pass, when you were rudely shoved aside, as a group of Navigators came by to Sanguinius trying to curry favor. You noticed his face turn into a light frown. But no matter, you gave a gentle grin to the primarch to try and soothe his temper. While, he had the good grace to not indulge his Thirst, he had to tendency of drinking more blood wine when under stress. In the meantime, you slowly moved away to the peripheral from the crowd, but not so far...You had to be careful, for moving in such a way could attract a knife in your back. But your outfit had come with the most finely protection, worthy of a favored consort.

"It is my turn to speak to the Great Angel! You had your chance!" A haughty nasal voice came out of the crowd. Some poor petty nobleman had tried to shout his way over to gain a rare audience of Sanguinius. But, given how contemptuous.. the party would probably begin with a brawl. Shaking you head, you started to run... you were out of practice sure, but you could find a place. You were dressed too nicely to be apart of any Underhive origin , but maybe you can commission a fighter jet to escape.

Hours upon hours had pasted... based on the way that the noises had become more quiet. You were at least leagues away from the party. You have been trying to stay out of the range by taking dark pathways and trying to avoid servants. You sat down to take a brief break... you were tired and feeling very thirsty... you dared to not drink any of the planet's water. But, you need a place to hide, and so you decided to crawl into a large vent, it was dusty.. long abandoned and based on the older stained.. it was used for servitors. Maybe you could take a brief rest.

You were shocked out of your rest as a loud alarm came out of nowhere. It was

' voice... and it filled you with dread.. yet it sounded so sweet and kind, he tried to call your name and try to bribe you out of your hiding spot. Internally, you just couldn't, you were so close... freedom.

Cursing, you thought about not changing your clothing... but just your luck.. a female servant was walking by your hiding spot. Immediately you grabbed her and put her in a headlock. After a good struggle, she was unconscious. Immediately you stripped off the party goer's clothing and replaced it with the servants clothing. It was mostly clean.. but no matter... as long as you kept quiet. You could at least escape.

A large thumping noises, and soon a large horde of noblemen was running down the same hallway all screaming their heads off. One of them went down the same hallway and took a deep breath. He was murmuring about how the Great Angel went mad. Based on the rambling mess, one of the noble ladies had said within earshot that in no certain terms that you had been assassinated, and that "an ugly peasant bitch isn't worthy of the Great Angel's love" Soon he fell silent as the masses ran by... but your heart started to drop... you heard the beating of wings. It was coming your way.

"Where is the nearest ship-port?" you whispered. The partygoers face twisted as if why would a mere serf ask that, before his face started to grin and opened his mouth. Before you could subdue him. "She's over here! " You immediately started to run full sprint. Your throat rubbing in raw... the beating your heart started to increase faster and faster as you heard the frantic wing beats.. only to collapse. No matter, you could at least crawl. Sanguinius appeared in front of you, white feathers falling as he stood, his hair askew and his wings still flapping despite him standing completely still... You started to weep. No... no... why? He picked you up and purred. "My little Bird where did you go?" "You weren't trying to escape? Were you?" You remained quiet. His mouth opened and now you noticed the heavy smell of blood. "WERE YOU?" he let out a shout, which causer your ears to ring. At your wince in pain, his face started to soften as he cradled over to you. "I'm sorry... I thought that you were dead... and I just cannot live without you." He pet your hair giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

That was a year ago.

Currently you were laying in bed, you needed the rest after all... you were preparing. Soon the door opened and your beloved entered the room. He was carrying a tray full of the finest of food, drink and wine. Sitting down he started to stroke your belly. "Have you come up with a name?" You shook your head as you slowly started to eat the food. As if you really didnt have anything to say, you had to keep the rest. You chewed the food and ate it in the fancy way, and even took the supplements! After all, they tended to even you out! You gave Sanguinius a kiss on the cheek and soon he left.

A/N: This (terrible) one shot is a result from the winner of the poll for the poem inspired for "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. Read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird

I will try and write out Corvus' one and soon and write out Part 3 of the Party Planning bit. This is my first time attempting to write Yandere Sangy.

#Blood Angels #sanguinius #primarch x reader #yandere primarch x reader

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qvrcll · 8 months

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college melodrama — V.

summary: ellie survives with a bruised lip and a throbbing pain that keeps her awake in her own bed. abby is elsewhere and of little care to you — you are beside ellie and nursing her wounds. tender touches lead to tenderer tellings and something worth recalling, perhaps.

warnings: injuries mentioned, food / medicine mentioned, just fluff, some angst but let’s be honest, it will be drowned out by the fluff 🫶🏽

a/n: part five and can i just say… THE POLL RESULTS ARE MAKING ME CREASEEEE. we love to see it! i love ya abby but you went too far… also my old divider stopped working for some odd reason :( + sorry for the slow updates, life has been brutally interruptive. anyhow, hope you enjoy this :-]

You’re tapping your feet anxiously beside the cotton of Ellie’s comforter the next time Dina checks in. Some part of you jumps from the familiar sound of the notification, but you put your good faith in Dina. You’re still shaken from the party’s brutal givings — besides Ellie’s bruised lip and cruddy looking jaw, the fight had taken flame amongst the entire college. From videos to whispers, you can feel the tension tenfold when you enter a room. People are nice enough to ask how Ellie is, but not nice enough to keep their eyes from telling.

You’d left her room when the messages rolled in, so it was safe to say that Ellie couldn’t hear the squelch of your heart playing in your throat right now. She couldn’t hear the deafening plea in your lungs drying the substance there, robbing it of the air that was. But she’s quick to realise, quick to ease you of your worries. You feel stupid, feel bad for even being upset but seeing her this battered and bruised hurt the world beneath your eyelids.

She knows all the right things to say and you’re really too hopeless to stay this way. You realise you’re unknowingly blaming Ellie for what’s transpired and make quick work of assuring her that no, it’s not her. It’s you and your dumb, full, thudding heart that is tipping over depravity. For her. But Ellie’s message makes you stop, makes you think. Makes your fingers shake as she loses her mind over her own recklessness with her feelings.

This is tipping close into uncharted territory. Into something of a ruse or something… warm and blanketed. Into something you’ve both hidden. But you’re not sure and Ellie is second guessing every bit of your letters, words, sentences. She’d rather have a shockwave plummet her to death than to lose you to her feelings. But if you were to be the same, she’d only dare to fall, no?

It’s an easy route to her dorm room. With her injury, prone to Abby, it had been a frequent endeavour and now, you were quite literally soaring through different altitudes. Savouring sweeter tastes. Hoping for something you’re sure you haven’t lost your mind to gain.

“Ellie?” your hand is on the door knob and the creaky, old thing flits back to allow you some space inside.

I’ve done this before, so many times. Why is it so much harder now?

“Y/N?” her voice comes softer, like the feel of peeled tangerines, in the commodity of her humble dorm. As you glance up, she’s standing in her flannel jacket, comfortable and so much like the reason as to why your heart is unrelenting in this very moment. But you can’t do this without surety — can’t do this without reason and lose half your mind with it too.

You step forward. It’s the right thing to do. You convince yourself that much, and whatever truth there is in that, is only helping you steer clear of what’s… meant to be yours, “You feel any better?”

“Y… Yeah. Totally. See,” she points ardently to the flesh that has begin to heal against her lip, “Already good. On the way… to be good, I hope.”

This is endearing, you think.

“And good, you will be, Ellie,” you reply, feet lambent against her floors, as you take her hands in yours in a complete show of camaraderie. But underneath the flesh and bone of it all, there’s something raw and pulsing there. Something alive and aware of consequences. Aware of a few of things. Curious of a lot more.

Curious of her hands.

Curious of her lips.

Curious of the row of hairs above her neck.

And of so, so much more.

“Is there… something else… you wanna say?” she suddenly asks. Rips the breath out of your lungs as her hands work to shield yours in some tight grip. Certainly not camaraderie. It’s something sacred in a nuanced sense; a telling? Or maybe one of her hidden shows of affections? But you need to try. Have to.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“When have I, Ellie, ever been wrong?”

“Dickhead. I won’t tell you now.”

“No, wait, hey! I’m sorry!”

You purse your lips, bite and swallow and throw away the smile that burdens them. But a ghost of it remains anyhow and she’s teeming with hope too, you see now. Something illusive made seen with her curiosity. She’s twice as nervous and holding you tighter and… leaning in.

Fuck.

Your lips meet slower than expected. Your nose budges against her cheek. Her teeth taste like oranges and medicine and raw, hot, scary love. Her hands are in your hair and you push the speed of them to match her—

“Ow. Ouch,” she bites her groans of pain, still holding you close. You shudder, afraid suddenly of the truth that she’s still not fully healed, “My lip… it’s just…”

“I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be. Please?” she whines and her eyes are pouring into yours and you see her past the line you’ve always drawn between the two of you. It disappears till you can no longer smell it in the air anymore. Nothing to stop you anymore. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“Okay. Okay,” you laugh against the flannel of her shirt and she coughs out a laugh, the light in her smile, “but you’re going back to bed! Heal, first. Kiss me later?”

“Mmm. Promise you won’t leave?”

“When have I ever?”

“Right” her spit of auburn hair seeps against her ears and despite your words, her lips cut the skin of your cheek anyways. Light, airy, yet leaving with the air of your lungs. You curse comically as she laughs, exits to her room, and you’re doing your best to follow when suddenly…

You hadn’t blocked her. Everything is redrawn and spilt in red. Anger, confusion and curiosity is alive in you when suddenly you become aware. Aware of your buzzing phone. Aware of the back of Ellie’s figure as she retreats to bed. Aware that whatever has started has yet to be resolved.

THE DECISION IS UP TO YOU: YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

[taglist: @theganymedes @nil-eena @ximtiredx @inf3ct3dd @oceanparadox @cjrights @eveshyper @sosobaker @hsangel64 @zombie-catz @twsmalie @badbye666]

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #tlou x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #tlou x you #tlou x y/n #ellie williams fanfiction

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dungeon-strugglers · 11 months

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✨New item!✨ Skysweeper Wondrous item, very rare

This wooden broom, which weighs 3 pounds, functions like a mundane broom until you stand astride it and speak its command word. It then hovers beneath you and can be ridden in the air. It has a flying speed of 80 feet. It can carry up to 400 pounds, but its flying speed becomes 50 feet while carrying over 200 pounds. The broom stops hovering when you land.

You can send the broom to travel alone to a destination within 5 miles of you if you speak the command word, name the location, and are familiar with that place. The broom comes back to you when you speak another command word, provided that the broom is still within 5 miles of you.

While you are riding skysweeper you always know which way is north, and you ignore the effects of high altitude, including elevations above 20,000 feet. If you are knocked off of skysweeper you instantly gain the effect of the feather fall spell cast on you, and the broom comes to retrieve you. As an action while riding skysweeper you can cast the invisibility spell on yourself and the broom at will. Dismounting the broom ends your concentration on the spell. These magical effects only apply to the rider who spoke the command word to activate the broom.

Nissa mounted her broom and felt the rush of exhilaration as she kicked off of the ground. It was wonderful to be in the air again. All of the woes of nearly being burned at the stake, just this morning, were swept from her mind as she flew into the crisp autumn sky. Soon she was thousands of feet above the world, her snowy owl soaring beside her letting out gleeful hoots as the pair dodged rain-laden clouds. They rose higher still, beyond the pinks and peaches of the setting sun, into the starry night. She was free! - 🖌🎨 Like our work? Consider supporting us on Patreon and gain access to the hi-resolution art for over 180 magic items, item cards and card packs, beautiful creature art and stat blocks, and setting pdfs with narrative hooks and unique lore!🧙‍♂️

📜 Credit. Art and design by us: the Dungeon Strugglers. Please credit us if you repost elsewhere.

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mamamittens · 1 year

Text

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 13)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew (Ft. Others) & Reader Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior and a wide variety of burn related injuries, as well as drowning. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary.

This is the end of things. All that's left is the epilogue. Your choices have consequences, I've only seen them through.

Word Count: 2,325

Marco chatted with an older gentleman about the local weather, meandering his way to any strange arrivals at the island. While he didn’t see Teach, it was possible he was hiding out at an inn until Marco left.

He found himself constantly pissed and surprised at how damn clever Teach was.

Several times they managed to just barely miss him out at sea. If Marco didn’t know any better, he’d assume that someone was telling Teach exactly when it was time to leave. But that window of time had been shrinking for the past month. Where once they missed him by a week it was now a matter of hours. And Marco could feel how close they were.

“Yeah, this weather really brings out weird people, doesn’t it… Say, have you seen any shady characters around lately?” Marco asked, refraining from fiddling with his buttoned-up shirt. Not exactly subtle to question the locals with a massive Jolly Roger staring at them.

Marco didn’t even get an answer being the sound of a distant explosion reached his ear. He sighed, fully expecting to see fire on the horizon from whatever shit Ace had gotten himself into now.

First Smoker and now this?

His eyes rolled over the sea and widened with shock.

A column of fire and smoke violently erupted into the sky in the direction of the other island he’d sent Ace to investigate—wrongly assuming that he’d find less trouble with a smaller island.

Marco was airborne in an instant, speeding over the land and sea as he rushed to find out what was going on.

The minutes ticked by as his lungs filled with sea salt from diving to gain speed before gaining altitude to do it all over again. Getting faster and faster with each repetition. Boats blinking by as he crossed the expanse.

Damn near half the island was on fire in some way or another. Demolished buildings and rocks littering the sea in debris fields as people fled quickly.

Marco banked sharply, ice in his heart as he spotted the marine vessel moored nearby.

He found Ace on the other side of the island facing fucking ADMIRAL AKAINU of all fucking marines. Your familiar shape pinned to the admiral’s chest. Teach dead—where the fuck did his head go?!—just behind you both.

Marco was fit to sweep down and toss Ace into the ocean his own damn self when the young man threw a fiery punch at the admiral. Only to find that it was himself that was burned.

The literal worst case scenario matchup for Ace and you were right in the middle of it.

Marco wanted to rescue you both—he really did—but clearly Akainu wasn’t planning on killing you. The crazy bastard even shielding you from excessive blows.

At the very least, he could plan to steal you back later. But Ace was certainly not getting such consideration. Akainu planned to kill him. If it was just Ace he had to worry about, he’d go down right now and take Akainu head on with no problem—okay, a bit of a problem, he’s not an Admiral for nothing. But at any moment The Mad Dog could turn on you and Marco had no idea if your devil fruit combined with his would help. Hell, if Akainu had just slung you over his shoulder, Marco could probably pick you up with a small distraction.

But there was no way Akainu wouldn’t notice him aiming right for his chest.

And Marco—much as he ached to admit it—only had one solid plan of action.

Retreat.

Marco tilted his wings and prepared to dive at Ace. Hold onto the stubborn bastard and take them both far away.

The marines would fuck up eventually and you’d be right back where you belong. Even if ‘fucking up’ was just not having a full escort to Marineford as Marco stashed Ace somewhere he couldn’t blast his way into a fight he can’t win.

A massive ball of lava arched into the sky, the heat searing as it passed him by barely an inch. His body beneath the phoenix fire burning bright to heal the damage before it cauterized completely. Leaving a deep ache in his wing that promised to take him down if he lost his head again.

Marco reared back, soaring higher to avoid a repeat. To get a moment to think since clearly Akainu wasn’t entertaining a retreat either.

Fuck!

He had to get Ace. Fast.

--*--

You remember the first time you really understood what your devil fruit was. There weren’t any other users near you when you first ate it, so it took some time before the effects became clear.

A man came to the island. Ostensibly a traveling stage magician. He was good at crafting a compelling stage presence, but the entire time you watched him, you got this strange feeling. Like a faded memory recalled through scent. A series of seemingly unrelated images and sensations undeniably connected to one person. A vague emotion. All of it strung together like pearls. An odd sense of creeping exhaustion seeping into your skin.

Cut grass and mint. Woven daisy chains tangled in your hair during summer. Spring rain and dewdrops on misty mornings. Softer than buttercup petals and flashy like daffodils after winter.

You watched as he offered his beautiful volunteer ‘assistant’ a playing card. Flicking his wrist to then ‘magically’ present a white rose that blossomed in his hand.

The drain went from a dripping tap to a river.

The rose grew, vines wrapping around his arm with thorns and blooms sprouting until he and his unfortunate volunteer was consumed by a rose bush.

They were fine, but more than a little cut up from the thorns.

Teach’s devil fruit was like a forest gone silent and dark. Shadows in thick water dragging your feet as you walked. Breath fogging the air as the atmosphere pressed down on you. Threatening to swallow you whole if you tripped. It felt like a graveyard emptied of it’s dead and leaving you alone with ghosts. The threat of a knife still sheathed in a sleeve.

Ace’s fruit felt like a campfire at night. Consuming your view with flying embers, reaching high into the sky. Warm laughter and cinnamon smoke curling around a hearth fire wreath. Blazing with conviction so bright it dimmed the stars. Surrounding you in excess.

Marco’s fruit was like a firework. A cry shooting through the air in triumph as the atmosphere burned with it’s brilliance. The flash of the sunset and sunrise just as it slips past the edge of the horizon. Flooding your senses with thick incense as birdsong echoed. Bitter medicine and tangy sweets on your tongue.

Whitebeard’s fruit was something a little different. A tremble in your bones. Strength and uncertainty held in the same hand. The ground beneath your feet shifting on a level you could only just barely sense. Heavy bass that thrums in your heart. The short hairs on the back of your neck tingling. Senses reaching for a source with no name. An echo of something much larger than yourself.

Held in place, frozen with your heart stuttering in fear, you bathed in the feeling of Admiral Akainu’s devil fruit. Exhaustion burning away to ash as horror bled from your lungs.

Hot and cracked, uncompromisingly deadly around you. Fire pouring like thick liquid from the earth. Consuming everything in it’s path as it simply oozed forward. Belches of toxic gas as magma was ejected in thick clumps from broken rubble. Life smoldering in it’s presence before being smothered under it’s weight. Move or be moved. It smells like death and cinders as burning ash coats your lungs and skin.

You reflexively tried to curl your hand into a fist and your muscles spasmed, nerves screaming at the abuse so soon after your shoulder had been set.

Panicked, you looked at Ace, aware that your new ability would be useless if you couldn’t even hold it for a second. He would have to get close to deal damage and in that timeframe, he’d be close enough for Admiral Akainu to kill him with ease. But Ace didn’t seem to know that, his lips twisted into a snarl as he locked eyes with Admiral Akainu. Fire sparking in his hands as he clenched his fists, scorching the earth around his feet in a burst of heat.

He screamed, damn near feral as he charged forward with his arm reared back.

Ace’s fist was stopped by Admiral Akainu’s hand, a blast of heat ringing out like a shockwave. Admiral barely let his raised hand drip with magma before Ace shot back with a startled hiss, eyes wide in shock.

“Your devil fruit is beneath mine in power level, Fire Fist. And that’s before my partner got involved.” Admiral Akainu declared with a slight, smug grin.

But Ace wasn’t about to back down. Spinning on his heel as he launched a fireball at Admiral Akainu. Aside from turning to shield you from the direct path, it flew harmlessly past him.

Attack after attack was simply batted away or ignored completely. Like the Admiral was taunting Ace.

Playing with his food until he got bored.

A flicker of blue and gold in the sky drew your attention and Admiral Akainu’s.

You nearly sighed in relief at the magnificent sight of Marco preparing to dive.

Good!

T-This was good!

He could take Ace and get out of here!

Admiral Akainu threw back his fist and hurled a mass of molten lava into the sky, nearly clipping Marco. The pirate instantly scrambling to gain altitude to protect against another attack.

While you wholeheartedly believed that Marco could face Admiral Akainu, it would be a massive risk with Ace and yourself so close to the crossfire. And Ace would never leave him behind. And if you overtly tried to assist, there was every chance the marine would simply break your neck for being a traitor.

Maybe with luck, you could have ‘dialed down’ Admiral Akainu’s devil fruit to allow Marco and Ace to flee—assuming Ace even let it happen to begin with. But your damaged hands couldn’t handle the tensed position right now without flinching and breaking the bloody scabs. You weren’t sure you could repeat the feat for an appreciable amount of time either. They’d need more than a second to get the hell out, after all.

You had no doubt Akainu would explode if he realized you were helping your friends escape.

Your thoughts screeched to a halt.

Explode.

You looked around you at the devastation. Every jeer and blow Akainu delt shook the ground and brought hot magma to the surface as he wound himself up. Losing his shit as Ace refused to falter and Marco kept trying to rescue him without getting hit—he’d heal from that, right? Could he? You weren’t sure and the thought that Marco could actually get hurt scared you—

You squeezed your eyes tight. Let the world fall away as you imagined that dial again. The dizzying heat around you fading to a buzzing pressure.

The needle bouncing in and out of the red with every attack.

If you could turn it to zero, totally cutting off the power of his devil fruit, then what would happen if you pushed it the other way?

The image of a volcano came to mind. Violently exploding as plumes of gas and smoke ejected into the atmosphere.

Akainu was already capable of such things.

Just like that magician could already create bushes from a single flower.

Ace needed to get distance. Marco needed a distraction. It wasn’t going to be fun. It certainly wasn’t going to be very safe. But it would double perfectly as both an escape for your friends and an alibi for assisting them.

A sudden, explosive volcanic eruption seemed like exactly what you needed.

You wrapped your less injured arm around Akainu, placing your bloody hand on his back as he made a soft noise of surprise. You looked up at Marco, your eyes connecting as he seemed to suddenly start to dive down instinctively.

You mouthed one word.

Run.

“Dial up: Overclock!” You pushed against the connection between your fruits, the air sucked out from your lungs.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Akainu was frozen, staring down at you with an expression bordering on awe. Heat rising between you as suddenly, the ground buckled.

Falling and then heaving up.

Ace screamed your name in horror.

Marco crying out with a sound more avian than man.

You didn’t realize the volcano would be underneath you.

Magma rushed up like a geyser, slamming Akainu and yourself into the air as though Whitebeard himself punched up beneath your feet. It happened so fast you don’t even recall the moment after.

Just thick, black smoke rushing around you until you cleared the top of the billowing cloud, almost floating for a moment. Skin scalded and cracked, bleeding from any number of burns you didn’t even have time to feel.

Akainu no longer in sight.

Then the ground rushed towards you, yanking your innards first as you screamed. Barely having time to hope you didn’t hit land before you realized you’d been ejected at an angle, skin seared and the air cutting past you as the sea rose to meet you instead.

The you hit the water as though it was made of bricks, knocking out the air from your entire body as you gasped, sinking beneath the waves motionlessly. Salt burned your wounds and eyes and lungs. Limbs frozen for any number of reasons—take your pick really—as you sank beneath the waves.

With no idea if your plan worked, you could only watch as darkness consumed you. Your heart burning as you choked on seawater.

This wasn’t how you wanted to be free.

#one piece yandere #yandere whitebeard crew #yandere akainu #yandere ace #yandere marco #oh sweet child of mine #reader insert #is it me?#Am I the drama?#reader experiences the power of friendship #but was it enough?#welp!#See ya'll tomorrow for at least the first part of the epilogue!

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Leah babe. Whenever you’re ready we’re here patiently waiting for the next update of TH&TH.

THIS TOOK ME FUCKING FOREVER TO WRITE!! And as promised, an earlier update as the Masterlist received 1’000 notes!! Ahhh. Anyway—here’s the next chapter. Also the Masterlist for those who need to catch up. We're getting closer and closer to the end of what I'd say would be series finale of season one of TH&TH. But a series two would be on the cards.

Jake Seresin never thought he’d fly for the Navy, he had every intention of joining the airforce from the day he knew what a plane was. The white walls of his childhood bedroom were plastered with air force propaganda posters spanning decades, yet they all told him the same thing. That planes were cool and that someday he’d fly one. He remembered as he sat in his F-18 Super Hornet that the longer he sat staring at the walls he littered with his dreams, his passion—the more he wanted it. A common denominator however for a lot of Jake Seresin's teen and adulting life choices had been one thing and one thing only. You.

As Jake took his only shot at saving his colleagues' lives as they gained altitude towards the sun–like a modern day version of Ikaris themselves, Jake thought back to the moment he thought maybe the Navy wouldn't be such a bad career choice after all.

“You wanna do what?” Sitting on your best friend's bed you told Jake that you were starting to think about a career in the Navy. “Say it again for me real quick, I don't think I heard you correctly.” He teased as he spun around on his desk chair, flipping the pen he’d been doing his homework with through his fingertips.

“I said, I was talking to Sarah the other day and she said her older brother is a clearance diver and loves it.” You explained as you sat with your History book open on page one hundred and forty nine. Reading about the social and political constructs of the highly controversial and deeply divisive ruler—empress Wu. “Been thinking about it a lot actually–seemed pretty neat.” You couldn’t really focus on her rise from common concubine to empress when Jake was staring into your soul from across his room though.

“You know if you go into the Navy and I go into the Air Force we can't be friends anymore right?” Jake taunted before you threw his own pillow his way. “What!” He gasped. “I'm just saying–it's kinda like a given thing that the branches all kinda hate each other.” It was your senior year of highschool so the reality of the real world was starting to kick in. You'd both been giving a lot of thought into what you wanted to do after school. If a gap year was on the horizon or if college was a possibility. Or for you maybe it was the Naval Academy and for Jake it would be the BMT.

For now though, you and Jake both worked down at the local pizzeria after school–it was supposed to be your way of being able to spend more time together. But when the big boss had noticed that the two of you barely got anything done when you were both rostered on together? He made sure to end that real quick.

“Doesn't the Navy have like, Naval Aviators or something?” You sighed, not realising just how much of a spark it lit inside Jake as he watched you return to your work. “If we both enlisted maybe we might be able to take on the world together?” You weren't putting all that much thought into what you were saying, simply making light hearted conversation with your best friend as you both did whatever homework you both had due the next morning. You History and Jake Mathematics–always the maths guy. “Who knows, But hey–if you do go into the Air Force and fly those stupid planes that cost way too much money I guess you already have a callsign.” Smirking, Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the chest.

“Oh no. No way would I ever use Hangman as my call sign.” Jake huffed as he shook his head. “It's stupid.”

“It's who you are, idiot.” You reminded him, all those moments where he’d hung around his locker waiting for the right moment to talk to you only to be left hanging had the namesake sticking to him like super glue all through high school. Like fuck was Jake taking that shit with him into his adult life. “Besides, it suits you.”

The pad of Jake's thumb hit the trigger for his missile lock system the moment he’d been drawn back into the present by the tone he’d locked on the fifth generation fighter pilot. He watched as the jet exploded into a thick black fiery cloud that surely had to be lethal for whoever had been sitting in the cockpit. Knowing that he was coming home to you and whoever he’d just shot down wasn't. That would be his second air to air kill. You hadnt taken well to the first one–he wondered for a moment if you'd love him any less now that he had two.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is your savour speaking.” Jake put on his usual persona of the guy who everyone just couldn't stand as he came racing through the plume into vision of Chaos and Rooster. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright position and prepare for landing.” He watched as Chaos looked his way and smacked her first twice against the side of the cockpit, laughing behind her mask. He couldn’t really tell from this distance how fucking close to death she really was.

“Hey Hangman, you look good.” Rooster commented from the back seat, not his usual position on a fighter jet. All things considered though it probably still had a pretty good view. Jake nodded peacefully in response, he was going to say something about how he wanted to throw up over the fact he’d left you like he did to get here. Crying, screaming his name, yelling at him that you needed him. He wanted to mention that it killed him to know he left you heartbroken in his best friend's arms because he just put his colleagues above you and even more so above his own safety. Or that if he’d listened to your direct orders to stand down Rooster and Chaos may very well not be alive right now. He wouldn’t ever say that to you—ever.

Jake didn’t say any of the aforementioned things, he couldn’t. The words failed him when he tried to convey the right things to say—they always had, but in this very instant he knew his worry and utter agony was written in the lines on his face.

Jake just nodded and laughed with them.

“I am good Rooster, I'm very good.” He paused as he broke right and turned back to head towards the carrier. He wondered if the girl who sat on his bed that one time and said you could both take on the world together would still want to charge at it head on when he landed or if you’d throw your hands up and finally say enough's, enough. “I'll see you both back on deck.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“You’re okay Hawkeye, I got you.” Javy rocked with you as you clung to him in utter heartbreak. There was no sense of time anymore, you didn't know if you'd been left on the runway for two minutes or two hours as you cried out in utter heartache loud enough for anyone walking the flight deck to hear. “Jakes gonna bring em home.”

“You don’t know that–what if he never comes home.” Javy wasn't about to tell you that he had that feeling too, he wasn't about to break your heart any more than Jake had already done so in order to go after Rooster and Chaos. “He's the love of my life Javy–” Javy felt his own heart shattering as he held you a little tighter, sitting with you between his legs in the middle of the runway. His arms encapsulated you like he was shielding you from the world around you. Not wanting you to ever be hurt again. “What am I supposed to do without him huh? What does he fucking want from me!?”

“He doesn't want nothing Hawk, he probably just knows by now that you love him enough to know that whatever happens, good or bad–he had all the right intentions.” Deep down you knew Javy was right, you did love Jake enough to know that a year ago–or even just a few months ago for that matter, he never would have done this.

Levi ‘Elvis’ Macarthy was a terrible person and an even worse influence on your husband. He was the very dictionary definition of superficial. There wasn't a person you loathed more than Jake’s current Wingman. You knew Levi wouldn't hesitate to leave Jake in the dust if things went wrong, but what scared you so much more was Jake had become the very same.

“Oh my god—“. You just couldn't hold it in any more, your marriage had fallen to shambles around you before there was anything left to salvage. Your grandmother always used to tell you like because and you love despite. But with Jake? Over the last few months nothing seemed worth it. “You're worse than Levi.” You had just been discussing Jake's latest deployment, he hadn’t bothered to tell you until three days out. “Levi, he’s a selfish superficial asshole but he can’t help it, Jake–but you? You could be a good person but you wanna be an asshole! You are so obsessed with getting promoted and becoming the best of the very best that you’re choosing to be a piece of shit—“ It would be your last fight, the fight that drove you over the edge, the one you couldn't come back from. The fight where things were said that you couldn’t take back no matter how badly you wanted to. It was the fight that put all your others to shame.

“Okay stop pretending this is some moral dilemma!” Jake hadn’t told you about his next deployment because he knew that you still weren’t over his last. He didn't know how to tell you without starting a fight. Which inevitably happened anyway.

“It is a moral dilemma! You’re pushing everyone away to chase a fucking pipe dream!” You were so proud of Jake and everything he’d accomplished, but the idea that you were the only one who was didn't sit right with you. You knew he lived for the applause, but you couldn't cheer him on from the bleachers alone. “You’re a lieutenant! God isn't that enough for you at this moment? Revel in it a little before you chase the next rank!”

“Oh you wanna go there?” Jake scoffed as he took strides towards you, crossing the distance of the living room. “You—“. Jake spat, his voice laced with venom as he spoke to you like he hadn’t been in love with you since the very first time he saw you let alone spoke to you. Pointing his finger into your chest. “You’re afraid to climb the ladder.” He barked. “Tell me love.” The term of endearment made you weak in such a heated moment. “When was the last time you actually did something you were proud of? You spend all your time worrying about me and what I'm doing and what I'm supposedly becoming because you're too fucking scared to fucking apply yourself, you're scared that even if you tried just a little goddamn harder that you'd still be told you're a crap analyst!” He didn't mean any of it, he just wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt him. But Jake? Well he couldn't attack your person, so he went for your job, your career. He knew you held a little self doubt about your position in the Navy, unlike himself who just oozed confidence in every aspect. “Always a Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral.”

“You go on this deployment, I won't be here when you get back.” This time you weren’t messing around. The idea had crossed your mind a time or two when things had gotten really bad, when you thought it would be easier to run than to stay and figure it out.

“What?” Jake had suddenly lost all his male bravado. “What the hell are you talking about?” Although you’d thought about it, you’d never said it out loud. Never mentioned the idea to anyone. “Baby–” His eyes were soft and suddenly full of regret, had he gone too far this time?

“You heard me Jake so help me god if you go, don’t expect me to fucking be here when you get back.” You thought your love for Jake Seresin could outlast any challenges you faced, but when he was the challenge himself? What else was left to do.

“You know I have to though—you know better than anyone that I can’t just not go?” His eyes took in the entire expanse of your face, every small mark and imperfection that made you perfect to him in every way. Cupping your face between his hands. “Wifey, we’re okay, we don't have to do this.” You ignored Jake's words as you focused on the first statement that slipped past his lips.

“Seems like an inevitable outcome then doesn’t it?” You continued, only to pull away and turn on your heels. Holding back the flooded dam that threatened to break if Jake made any attempt to keep you here. Stop you from leaving–.if he asked you to stay you knew it would be all the more harder to go, without question. You loved him so much.

“Baby don’t leave me.” You left in the middle of the night that same night.

He never would have put the lives of his fellow aviators above his own and he most certainly wouldn't have defied direct orders to risk his life in order to save another. The version of Jake Seresin that you almost served divorce papers to was long gone. Dead and buried. Replaced by the very best version of himself you knew he could be. The version you fell in love with during highschool. The version who asked you to marry him one random night in July under the stars as waves lapped around your ankles. The version you saw a future, a present and had a past with. It didn't hurt any less though, knowing that the outcome of all his soul searching may end up with the same outcome you’d left him over in the first place.

You'd' still receive that folded flag, you’d still cry as his coffin was lowered, only now you knew for sure that you wouldn't be the only one to mourn him.

“GET HER OFF THE DAMN RUNWAY!” Pete Mitchell could be heard screams from the barricades that you jumped over to reach your husband in time, to no avail. You’d fallen into a heap in Coyote's lap, inconsolable and crying as your heart raced at the thought you’d never see Jake again. Clutching at Javys flight suit, the nornex not doing much at all to dry your tears. “COYOTE! GET HER UP BEFORE YOU TWO GET RUN OVER BY A GODDAMN F-18!”

“Someone tell my wife I'm coming home.” Jake had radioed back to the tower all the while you and Javy had been sitting on the flight deck. He had started making his way back to you the second he wasn't needed, he saw no need to string out your obvious heartbreak. He couldn't wait to get back to you, tell you how sorry he was, how much he loved you, how much you meant to him and how badly it broke his own heart he had to leave you behind like he did–but he knew Rooster and Chaos needed him just a little bit more in the very moment. Jake also couldn't wait to let you know how idiotidc it was to stand in the middle of a goddamn runway. How endearing and brave and oh so stupid he found it. He knew that you were going to tear him a new one about his actions, that was his only leg to stand on. You were miss prim and proper, he was reckless and foolish–the better halves of each other. “Someone tell Y/n I’m okay, for the love of god someone tell her I'm alright.” It was a plea that fell on somewhat deaf ears though, no one could get to you to relay the message and Pete Mitchell certainly wasn't about the scream that crossed the flight deck of the carrier.

“We gotta move Lieutenant Commander–” Javy cooed as he tried to lift you up. Deadweight against his arms, you didn’t budge for love nor nothing. “Hey, Jake’s coming back, surely.” Pointing over your shoulder to the black dot in the distance headed straight for the carrier Javy tried his best to break through whatever haze had begun to cloud your better judgement. “You see that speck? That's Jake, so unless you wanna get railed by the cord that's gonna come at us at about a hundred miles an hour I suggest we move and the second he lands, I'll let you go? Deal?” You didn't believe Coyote as he tried to be the voice of reason, but as you watched the speck get a little closer, a little more defined, it sparked a hope inside you that you wanted to believe in. That it was Jake and he was coming home.

“Shit–” You scrambled to your feet, dusting your uniform off as Javy took your hand in his, one hand behind the small of your waist as he guided you over to where the rest of the group stood. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, all desperately awaiting the return of Hangman, Rooster and Chaos. “You really reckon it's him?” You asked as you approached Maverick, he hated the look in your eyes. Despair. Your eyelashes were wet and your cheeks were stained but none of that really mattered when he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and nodded, bringing out a haphazard smile across your face for the briefest of moments.

“It's him Hawk, it's all of them.”

***~***~***~***~***~

It was the smoothest of landings Jake had ever pulled off. Everything had gone according to plan. When the tail hook caught on the catcher cord, slowing Jake's Super Hornet to nothing, he could finally breathe again. There wasn’t a lot that confronted Jake Seresin, but when he took off from the carrier, leaving you behind? He’d never felt such a fear in the back of his throat. It resonated with him until he leaned.

The cheers roaring out from his colleagues and fellow Naval men and women were enough to have him popping his canopy, holding his helmet in his hand as he fist bumped the air. Ravelling in the moment, the glory, the praise. Jake Seresin lived for the applause—and for the almost good enough but not quite worthy Dagger Spare, he thought he’d done pretty well for a guy who hadn’t made the team.

“You’re insane!!” Phoenix beamed as she tapped Hangman on the shoulder three consecutive times. “And I’m not gonna tell you you’re great, but well done.” He barely acknowledged her, his eyes catching you in the crowd. The roar of success faded as he handed Bob his helmet—without taking his eyes off you. A smirk crept across his face when he saw you falter for a mere moment. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were utterly and wholeheartedly relieved he was safe. But for a split second as the crowd cheered and separated just enough for Jake to barge his way to you—you couldn’t not let the happiness consume you.

“Hi wifey—“ Is all Jake manages to say before you’re barreling at him. Running full speed into his arms. With a jump and a graceful lift, your lips are connecting with your husbands as he catches you in his strong arms. Hands on your ass as he kisses you back. Your arms thrown around his shoulder as he deepened the kiss you thought for a while there you’d never get to experience again. “I’m so so—“ You didn’t let him finish as your open palm slapped against his cheek.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, do you hear me?” It wasn’t harsh enough to actually hurt, but it was still with enough force that took Jake aback. “Hangman—do you hear me?” Eyeing off the little gold heart he wore with so much pride.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from beaming at you. He loved you, oh so much. Kissing you again with haste as he nodded against your lips. “So stupid, I can’t believe you do that! Never again okay?” You pleased as Jake kissed you, talking into his mouth as teeth clashed together and tongues danced. Cupping his face to make sure this was real. That he was back and he was safe. “You hear my baby? You got nothing to prove.”

“Loud and clear ma’am, loud and clear.” Mumbling into your mouth as he held you up by your thighs. The cheering of the entire crew around you made it all the more remarkable. Jake Seresin was a hero, and a beloved one at that. “You’re not off the hook either, pretty girl.” Jake smirked against your lips. “Jumping barricades and barrelling up runways.” It was true, it hadn’t been your finest moment, but you did it all for love. “So stupid wifey, you know that right?” You knew, so the only dignified response you gave was a silent nod.

“I thought you weren’t coming back—“ You mumbled just shy of a whisper as you let your forehead rest against Jakes as he slowly put you down. Bending over with you to chase your lips again. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

“I’ll always come ba—“ Again, you slapped him again. This time a little harder as he trapped your hand in his. Making sure you couldn’t slap him again. “Okay, you gotta stop slapping me.” Jake poked his tongue against the inside of his slightly throbbing cheek as you eyed him off.

“Sorry, I just needed to make sure you were listening.” Racing past the bridge of the carrier where both Admiral Beau and Admiral Bates stood. Chaos flew low and close as you looked up overhead. She held her finger up to the glass. Giving the admirals the bird before her right engine cut out. “But I’m so proud of you Jake—you brought them home.”

“So I’m off the hook?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow, cocking the corner of his lip slightly as you shook your head. Laughing.

“Oh, oh no—no no no Jacob, you are most definitely not off the hook.” You called him Jacob, he knew he was in shit when Jacob slipped past your lips. “But for now I think you deserve to have your moment.” You gestured to the crowd around you now cheering on Chaos and Rooster as they landed in the barricade. “Go celebrate your victory Lieutenant.”

“I love you, Wifey!” Jake beamed as he stepped back, immersing himself in the crowd around him. “Love you to the moon and back!” He grinned before turning around, finding his way to the two people he risked it all for.

“I love you all that much more.”

***~***~***~***~***~

It had been a few weeks since the Uranium mission had come to its completion. The Admirals had made it abundantly clear that the ragtag team of aviators who had grown to be more like family than just colleagues could have a few precious weeks of unrestricted leave for their duties and sacrifices. Bradley Bradshaw and Robert Floyd had chosen to stay in North Island; They weren’t leaving until they knew for sure that Chaos Kazansky was going to be okay. For you and Jake? Things had mellowed out, settled down and you were both working through the underlying issues that were still plaguing whatever future you were both preparing to have with one another.

Like today for example, you were both about to find out the paternity results of the DNA test Jake had taken for Marissa. He knew it wasn’t his kid, but he knew you needed that in writing.

“Okay ladies cough up.” The Miramar Base Hospital smelt of sterile everything but the nurses station? They smelt of that Ariana Cloud Perfume and whatever food had been on offer in the cafeteria that day. “Who owes me what?” You teased as the three ladies sitting behind the glass fished out their wallets and all handed you a ten dollar bill. Much to their own displeasure. You smirked, collecting your earnings with no sympathy.

“Much appreciated ladies—“ You winked. When Jake had first started doing the rounds for Chaos, you’d gone with him one time early on. The ladies at the front desk had mentioned Jake would always stop and have a chat—nothing malicious, nothing sinister behind it. He just enjoyed the praise he received. And you saw nothing wrong with that—but you’d started an underground betting ring not three days later with the nurses. If your husband was gonna act the foot? The least you were gonna do was make some extra money off him. “Someone ask him about his call sign next time he stops by, if he says anything else besides the fact he was left hanging by a girl he had a crush on in highschool he’s a liar—“ You picketed the cash as you turned on your heels. “Fifty Bucks ladies, take it or leave it.”

“You look rather nice today Commander?” One of the nurses cooed as she hollered down the hall after you. You weren’t really sure what she was on about to be honest, you were just in a pair of old jeans and a sweater. Maybe it was the brown hair you now wore with pride. Jake had been right, Blondes did have more fun and you had certainly had your fair share during your time back at Miramar. You weren’t meant to be a blonde. So back to your roots you went. “Anything in particular got you all dressed to the nines?”

“Just enjoying the rest and relaxation ladies, nothing else to it.” You smiled back at them before making your way further into the hospital—running into your husband and Bob shortly after. “I was just coming to see Chaos? How is she?” You asked Bob as Jake took you under his arm, pulling you closer to his side as he kissed the top of your head. It still smelled of brown box dye. He’d helped you colour it back a few nights prior. That in and of itself should have been a mission he had taken more seriously.

“Awake, she wanted to be with Rooster for a little while.” Bob explained softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee, do you want anything Commander?” You still weren’t all that keen on everyone calling you commander, shaking your head softly you sighed as Bob stood before you with tired eyes.

“I’m good, and would you please just call me Hawk if anything Bob? Even Y/n’s totally fine—you guys are family. I don’t want you calling me Commander if we’re not on duty or working together.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll see you guys a little later.” Bob was tired, he walked the halls like a ghost of his former self. He and Rooster had been tag teaming for weeks and you knew Jake was worried about them both.

“God I feel awful.” You mumbled into Jake's shoulder. “We should do something for them.”

“Only thing we can do is just be here for them.” Jake kissed the top of your head before making a cheeky remark. “Commander Seresin.” He expected the elbow he copped to the ribs but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “Ohh—“ He doubled over for a moment as he stilled in his tracks, watching as you kept walking down the hall. “Okay, I definitely deserved that.”

“Bet you thought it was gonna be you who made commander first, didn't ya hot shot?” You teased over your shoulder as your husband caught back up to you. “What was it again? Always the Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral?” Quoting the remark Jake had made during one of your more heated arguments. “I’m sure you’ll catch up, Lieutenant.”

“I liked you better when you were just a lieutenant commander—“ Jake taunted as you both rounded the corner. Laughing you just shook your head. “So cocky now—someone better tap you on the head before you fly too close to the sun there, Icarus.”

“You know I don’t fly, Flyboy—“ You taunted back as you reached for Jake's hand, walking side by side towards the office of Dr. Sanders—she’d called you earlier that same morning to confirm the results of Jake's paternity test had come in and as had your fertility checks. “And before you say anything, no—I’ve seen the way you fly, I’m not getting in one of the tin cans with you.”

“Javy said he’d take you up if you wanted to?”

“Oh fuck off—“ You couldn’t hold back to scoff. “You know I’m terrified of flying, never in a million years would you ever get me up in one of those things.” It had always been something you’d pushed to the wayside, but even when you flew commercially, you needed anxiety callers to keep you from panicking. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Ah, there’s the lovely couple!” Dr. Sanders greeted you both with a wide smile as you approached her door. “Come on in, we have a lot to talk about.”

“All good news I hope?” Jake questioned as he let you enter first and pulled your chair out for you. A kind but almost jarring gesture. The look on Dr. Sanders' face said it all though—it wasn’t. Fuck.

“Mr Seresin, how sure were you that this child wasn’t yours?” She asked and for a moment there you forgot how to breathe. Holy shit, was Jake actually a father? To another woman’s child?

“Fairly certain I could back my entire career on the matter, why?” Jake still expressed so much confidence in the matter at hand, he never once wavered from his standpoint. It was almost admirable. He sat beside you, reaching out for your hand because he knew if anyone was freaking out right this second it was you—running the pad of his thumb across your palm.

“Remind me to never second guess your better judgement, you’re not the father Jake—I’m not sure whether to say congratulations or my condolences but biologically speaking no, that child isn’t yours.”

“That’s exactly what we wanted to hear.” Jake smiled as he turned his cocky attitude towards you fully. “Never doubted it for a minute.”

“I’ve already informed the other party, she sends her best wishes.” Dr. Sanders sighed before she opened the tan folder on her desk. “Now—onto you little miss, what am I going to do with you.” She sent you a soft smile. This was never an easy part of her job, but education was key.

“Lay it on me doc, I can take it.” Your hand squeezed Jakes just a little tighter as you shifted in your seat. Knowing whatever Dr. Sanders was about to tell you was going to knock the wind from your lungs.

“Y/n, you have blockage in your left fallopian tube, that means that when sperm are trying to make their way to an egg the blockage is stopping them before they can fertilise.” You really didn’t know what to say as you sat shocked in silence. “It doesn’t necessarily mean a natural conception isn’t possible, it just means that the chances are less likely and if you do ever decide to have children, prenatal vitamins and hormone treatments will aid in the process. And hopefully whatever sperm does make the journey, they take a right instead of left.”

“Is there anything we can do to remove the blockage?” You asked softly, there was a small part of you who didn’t want to know the answer. But you asked regardless.

“There’s surgical procedures we can schedule you in for—but they're all quite major and can lead to even more pressing complications like infertility overall.” Dr. Sanders explained. “It’s better to leave well enough alone and hope that the one you still have can come through, otherwise? There’s IVF treatments, adoption—“ Dr. Sanders made it abundantly clear to both you and Jack in her office that you were, in fact, not broken. She’d seen too many women come through her doors that wore the same face she was currently looking up. “You my dear are not broken, you just need to take a few extra steps.”

“I’m—uh, can we take home all the information you have on all the options please?” Jake could hear it in your voice how scared and upset you truly were. All he could do in the moment though was reassure you that he was there, right beside you. Squeezing your hand to keep you grounded in reality. “We’ll go over everything at a later date.”

“Of course, and if you ever need a consultation you know where to find me.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“When are you gonna go up with Hawk?” Coyote smirked at you through the mirror of the free weight section of the base gym. Finishing your set of lateral raises, you huffed out a groan when you placed the weight down. It’s a bad dream by Good Charlotte played through the speaks as you looked at Javy through the mirror. His smugness rubbing you the wrong way immediately.

“Who told you I ever would?” Two more weeks had passed since the events of the uranium mission and new postings were starting to trickle in. You’d yet to receive yours, but Jake had reciprocated his. A full time position here in North Island. If he wanted it. He’d get to accept—waiting to see what would come of you.

“Uh, your husband?” Javy sent you a look as if to say who else would’ve told him that. “You two seem good these days?” He asked, still standing behind you in the free weight section, looking at you through the mirror. “Seem happy?” It was no secret to anyone that knew you and Jake that you had your demons, but over the last few weeks, amongst everything else going on—you’d seemed to work a few things out.

“I think we’re gonna do a few couples therapy sessions but yeah, we’re good.” You smiled over at Jake who’d been doing some boxing with Payback. “I’ll never find a better part of me Javy, and honestly I’m starting to think that I'd rather be here for him than anywhere else in the world for myself.”

“He loves you.” Javy smirked softly as you turned to face him. “I remember there was this one time I had to really reel him in from going fully off the rails just after you’d left.” You’d never heard Coyote speak his truth on the matter before. “He was fucked Hawk—he knew he drove you away but was just too stubborn to admit it to anyone around him let alone himself.”

“I wasn’t innocent in the whole thing—“ You added as you let your eyes linger back over to Jake, he’d lost his shirt somewhere along the long as he held the pads for Payback. A thin sheen of sweat covering him head to toe. “But you like because and you love despite.”

“You did what you had to do.” Javy added, only to change to conversation seconds later back to his original question. “Come in Hawk, one ride—come up with me for service checks?”

“I dunno Coy—“ You tried to protest, your fear of flying all consuming. But it was to no avail.

“You can’t be a commander without having flown once—“ You’d technically made Commander rank four weeks ago, but the official ceremony wasn’t until January. It wasn’t a question you could keep avoiding any longer, both Jake and Javy pestering you to no end about this joy flight. Were you particularly interested? No—but if you had to do it once to get them off your back it seemed as though the answer had to inevitably be a yes.

“Honestly? What's the worst thing that could happen?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626 @shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31 @abaker74 @shadowsndaisies @haworldwidefunnyguy @peakascum @ssprayberrythings @averyhotchner

#to have & to hold // jake seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin angst #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman seresin #hangman x you #hangman #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman imagine

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pricelessemotion · 1 year

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Starstruck and Metal | E.M.

Summary: [4.3k] you meet eddie for the first time. it doesn't go quite like you expected.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist!reader

Warnings: none!

Notes: huge thank u to my bestie chuck for beta reading 🫶 also if you solve the crossword hint i love u

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InStereo magazine was not The Rolling Stones, but it was a start. The modest music magazine had a humble following, enough to earn some hums of recognition whenever someone made the mistake of asking what you did for a living. Most days, it’s great. You relish in the joy of working in a field some people only dream of entering. The leap from column writer to main article was a large one, but you insisted that you were ready. Your first assignment as a music journalist and of course you got stuck with Eddie fucking Munson.

Any self-respecting music journalist, anyone with some skin in the game would have laughed in the face of their editor. But instead, you smiled. You nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the bobblehead that has since been removed from your desk. When you decided to become a music journalist, you wanted to write about people who were changing the field. Instead, you were being tasked with writing some puff piece being used to save a wannabe rock star’s reputation. God forbid you gain the reputation of being a difficult woman–in a male-dominated industry no less–by turning down such a great opportunity.

Even if that opportunity included spending a day with Eddie fucking Munson.

You paid out of pocket for the cassette of Corroded Coffin’s debut album that was currently underscoring your drive to West Hollywood. You refused to meet the frontman without having listened to their music beforehand. They were good. A little rough around the edges, but it was to be expected. Outside of the occasional headlines, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie or his band. Corroded Coffin was making ripples, not waves. Of course, no one really cared about the music when they could be reading about who and what their lead vocalist was doing.

Still, you find yourself parking outside of a humble ranch-style home in a neighborhood full of similar housing that likely cost a fortune to live in. The modest proceeds from Corroded Coffin’s tour have obviously paid off, considering that nice area and affordable don’t usually exist in the same sentence when talking about LA housing. The June sun is beating down on the empty street, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear a T-shirt and jeans. You tell yourself that the sweat collecting on your brow is from the heat and not nerves.

Double-checking that you have the right address, you slam the door shut on your sedan and take a deep breath. The air feels cleaner here, less smoggy. You’re not sure if it’s because of the altitude or the tax bracket of the people who live here. Probably both. You reach into your purse and feel around for what you already know is inside. Pen. Notepad. Tape recorder. The holy trinity for a music journalist.

There were very few topics that Eddie wasn’t willing to talk about. You guess that when you’ve had your insides strewn across the pavement for everyone to see, you don’t bother trying to uphold any semblance of mystique. Beginning the daunting trek toward your assignment, you remind yourself of two things:

1) Don’t ask about his father

2) Don’t ask about what happened in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986

The first rule seemed simple enough. As far as the public was concerned, Eddie Munson came to Hawkins at the age of 12 to live with his Uncle Wayne like how a fully formed Venus sprang up from sea foam. He wasn’t and then he was. End of story. The fact that Eddie’s management went out of the way to make sure his father wasn’t brought up only made you more curious.

The second rule was a little harder to accept. Anyone who knew anything about Eddie Munson wanted to know about 1986. Despite the fact that his highly publicized murder charges and subsequent exoneration are part of what caused Corroded Coffin to skyrocket to fame, he’s remained very tight-lipped about the whole situation. He plays off every question about it in interviews with a smirk and a sly comment. Just charming enough to get away without answering. Just vague enough to keep people guessing. Maybe his publicist wasn’t such a waste after all.

Eddie Munson opens the door a few moments after you ring the bell. Using a ringed hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun, he squints at you. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has a severe case of bedhead despite the fact that the time on your watch indicates that it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The confusion that draws his brows together also indicates that he has absolutely no idea who you are. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you state your name and purpose before realization graces his features.

“It’s you! Shit, yeah! You’re here for the– the thing!” He tosses a careless look over both of his shoulders before widening the opening. “Come on in.”

Eddie closes the door behind you and rushes down the hallway in order to put some real clothes on, leaving you standing in the empty living room. The inside is surprisingly clean for someone who’s gained the reputation of being a hot mess. It smells like cigarettes, weed, and lemon pledge. The lemon scent is strongest as if someone was trying–and failing–to use it to cover up the previous two. A record player is tucked into a corner, the vinyl still spinning. A line of electric guitars is propped up against the back wall, each of them no doubt costing more than your monthly rent. One of the stands is noticeably empty and you glance to your left to see a beat-up acoustic resting on the couch. On the coffee table, there are piles and piles of scrap sheets of paper. For most of them, the handwriting is too illegible to read or it’s been crossed out. Eddie seems to write lyrics like he lives his life: fast and all over the place.

Stepping closer, something along the upper corner catches your eye. Slyly lifting up a pile of paper, being sure not to disturb the configuration, you find that your suspicions are correct. Eddie received the same copy of Sub Rosa as you did. Obviously, it didn’t go over well. He’s used a pen to black out his eyes. Much to your amusement, you see he’s also drawn horns and a tail. The hand that’s flipping off the camera is illustrated to be holding a pitchfork.

That’s not the full extent of Eddie’s doodling, though. On the bottom right-hand corner of the magazine, there’s a smaller picture of him standing next to a certain brown-eyed beauty. You’re quick to note that he’s drawn a crude halo and angel wings on his long-legged companion. They’ve been scribbled out as an afterthought, making the halo look more like a crown of thorns.

So, you think to yourself, he’s a little immature. You can work with immaturity. Immaturity means that he won’t be as guarded as some of the other celebrities your coworkers have had the misery of meeting. In fact, from what little you know about Eddie, you wonder if he even has any guard at all. He did leave you alone here with stacks of potential songs for his band’s next album. If you were a better journalist and a worse person, you would probably take the time to decipher his chicken scratch and see if you could glean any insights into his creative process. But you don’t. Instead, you release the stack of papers and wait.

For a moment, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve never been inside of a famous person’s house before. You’re not sure if you should sit down and make yourself comfortable or if Eddie has something else planned for the two of you to do. The specifics of your assignment were intentionally vague, most likely to accommodate Eddie’s spontaneity.

Venturing further into the living room, you come to stand in front of a shelf. Brushing your fingers across the collection of vinyl, you tilt your head to read the names along the spines. There are the usual suspects–Dio, Metallica, and Judas Priest–but what surprises you is that, in the midst of all the metal and hard rock, there’s an array of old-school country music. At the end of the lineup is the most surprising one of them all; Sentimentally Yours by Patsy Cline. It’s exceedingly worn, cracks and creases litter the empty sleeve. If you were a betting woman, you would say that the record is currently on the player across the room.

A muffled crash followed by a string of curse words breaks you out of your reverie. Eddie opens the bedroom door with the finesse of someone who is obviously used to being the center of attention. He’s traded his sweatpants and tank top for a pair of ripped black jeans and a v-neck. It felt reassuring to know that you hadn’t underdressed for the occasion.

It also gives you a moment to drink in the blinding light that was Eddie Munson. He’s leaner in person. Though he always looked lithe in every photograph you saw of him, his frame seemed more imposing and large. Maybe all the stars just look that way when they’re so high above you.

He was taller, too. The boots on his feet surely aided in that, given that the soles were at least an inch thick. Still, you didn’t anticipate how much you would have to tilt your head up just to look him in the eyes.

There, standing in Eddie Munson’s rented living room, you realize something; You’re absolutely starstruck.

Although you had turned up your nose at the prospect of interviewing him and regarded his reputation with the same disdain you reserved for bad drivers and shitty landlords, you were still a person after all.

With all of the stars around, it’s easy to think of Los Angeles as the center of the universe. But you are not a star or anything even close to it. You’re some space debris, hopelessly floating and waiting for something bigger to come around and influence you with its gravitational pull.

Eddie is a heavenly body. You can’t help being pulled into his orbit.

“So, I see you’ve found my collection.” His voice is still rough with sleep. The sound makes you weak in the knees.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” You mumble, tucking Patsy Cline back into the shelf. “You’ve got some really good stuff here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you.” He swiftly turns and stalks back towards what seems to be his bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The blood rushes out of your cheeks. The terms of your interview suggested that you would have a lot of access, but this was different. This was up close and personal. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own because while you’re still wrapped up in the fact that you’re gonna see Eddie Munson’s bedroom, you’re already following him down the hallway and through the open door.

It’s about as messy as you would expect. The furniture is all pale wood and earth tones, fitting the mid-century modern stylings of the rest of the house. You suspect that Eddie took the time to clean up a little while you were rifling through the stacks of paper. The bed is haphazardly made. There’s an ashtray on his bedside table, filled with the remains of a few cigarettes.

“I’m not supposed to smoke inside. Shh.” He brings his index finger to his mouth, pink lips barely brushing the skull ring he’s wearing. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You let out an airy laugh. Being reprimanded for smoking inside is the least of Eddie’s worries and you both know it.

Eddie’s nimble fingers skim the top of the dresser, brushing aside even more sheets of scrap paper. A couple of guitar picks plummet to the floor, but he pays no mind.

“I heard that metal isn’t usually your thing.” He remarks, still sifting through the clutter.

That much is true. While you dabbled in a little bit of everything, not only as part of your job but also as part of your interest in music, metal wasn’t usually the genre you gravitated towards. In fact, the most metal album that you had listened to recently was written and produced by the man standing in front of you.

“It’s not, but I’m open to everything.”

“Aha! Here it is.” Eddie holds up the cassette like it’s the key to the universe. Handing it to you, you can see that the writing on the sides is reminiscent of what you saw in the living room, though slightly neater. You’re familiar with some of the bands listed, but the songs don’t ring a bell. “I thought I would broaden your musical horizons.”

You gawk at him. For someone whose job is about words, you can’t find any. He took the time to make you a mixtape?

“Track five is a personal favorite.” Eddie says, leaning towards you and tapping the tracklist, obviously unshaken by your inability to form a coherent thought.

“Thanks. I’ll give it a listen.” You manage to choke out, tucking the cassette into the front pocket of your purse.

Looking around the room, you see that there’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings on his bedside table. The corners are frayed, and you’re certain that you could accidentally tear the cover off of the paperback if you’re not careful. Cautiously, you trace the spine with your finger, waiting for Eddie to say something. To tell you that it’s the one thing that’s off limits. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you. Opening it, you can see Property of Eddie A. Munson written underneath the title in a childish scrawl.

“You like books? I mean–you’re a writer, so of course you like books–I mean, have you read that one?” Eddie is visibly flustered, the words coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It almost makes up for the way he rendered you speechless moments ago.

“I’m more of a Dune girl myself. But, I love The Lord of the Rings. My dad used to read it to me before bed every night.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at his lips before he practically whispers his next words. “Mine too.”

A flash of something you can’t quite decipher crosses Eddie’s face.

“Right! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” He shuffles out of the room like his life depends on it. You’re still reeling at the fact that he brought up his dad unprompted. Keeping a brisk pace, you put the book down and follow him into the kitchen.

“We have…” He trails off, opening the door to the refrigerator. “Nothing.”

He shuts the refrigerator and dashes to the table by the front door. He mumbles to himself before grabbing a few things, shrugging on a jacket, and finally turning to face you again. A pair of sunglasses covers the half of his face that isn’t plastered with a mischievous grin. From the tips of his fingers hangs a set of car keys.

“You hungry?”

–

You should’ve known that Eddie Munson would try to kill you within 20 minutes of meeting him. Lifting up the garage door, he reveals that the car keys were in fact, not car keys but keys to a motorcycle. The vehicle in question is an absolutely stunning deathtrap. It shines so beautifully that you can see your terrified face in the warped reflection.

Putting his helmet on, Eddie straddles the bike and looks at you.

“C’mon.” Eddie smiles wolfishly, tilting the spare helmet towards you. “I’m a safe driver. Promise.”

You’re still standing frozen. His wolfish grin melts into something more patient.

“Hey, if you don’t want to take the motorcycle, just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

Despite the sincerity in his voice, you can’t help but take the words as a challenge.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You profess, though the shake in your voice is evident. Grabbing the helmet out of his hands, you ignore the way your face heats up when your fingers brush.

Eddie takes gross advantage of California’s lane-splitting laws, leaving you clinging to his leather-draped torso for dear life. Outside from the occasional shout of assurance that you can’t understand, the ride is quiet but for the roar of the bike and the wind in your ears. You’re vacillating between being absolutely terrified of crashing and secretly relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to make small talk on the drive from his place to wherever he was taking you.

You were very close to liking Eddie Munson. Now, you were sure that he was sent as some kind of karmic punishment.

“Parking in L.A. is always a pain. That’s why I love this baby,” He gingerly pats the handles as he kicks the parking brake down. “She can fit basically anywhere.”

You hum in agreement, mostly just happy to have made it to your destination in one piece. While Eddie hops off the bike with ease, you have a little more trouble. Swinging your leg over, your toe catches on the fuel tank, causing you to stumble and nearly fall to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Eddie is biting back a smile. He offers a calloused hand out to you. You brush it away out of embarrassment, planting both feet firmly on the ground and taking in your surroundings.

You had expected Eddie to take you to one of L.A.’s finer dining venues. Somewhere with fancy mood lighting and clientele with pockets so deep that they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menu. His management was footing the bill, after all.

The building that sits before you is none of those things. The diner is old and slightly dilapidated. Graffiti mars the stucco that hasn’t already crumbled away. The neon sign that says Zazie’s! blinks drowsily, more of an eyesore than eye-catching.

Eddie opens the door for you. As the bell above it jingles, you’re hit with a rush of conditioned air and canned nostalgia. The walls are covered in artifacts from a bygone era of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. A lonely jukebox sits in the corner, playing a soft hum to a Billie Holiday song you have long forgotten the name of.

A plump woman sits behind the counter doing the crossword in the newspaper. Likely, the same one you were doing that morning. A thoughtful look is etched into her soft features, and you wonder if she’s also stuck on 57-down: Idle during the heist. The ten-letter space confounded you so much that you were almost late. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Eddie is the type of person to care too much about punctuality. At the sound of the bell, she looks up, squints, and smiles.

“Is that you, Toto?” The glasses that sit on the tip of her nose are attached to a chain around her neck. She lets them fall to her chest, her voice bright and amiable.

“You know it is, Dorothy!” Eddie gushed, an award-winning smile back on his face.

They fall into easy conversation, making it obvious that he’s a regular here. You keep glancing at him trying to find hints of ingenuity but there are none. Eddie regards the woman with the warmth and respect that you would expect from a boy scout, not a rockstar.

Sliding into a booth, Dorothy hands you both a menu and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee.

“You have to try the french toast, it’s divine.” Eddie barely steals a look at the laminated folder before folding it back up and putting it down on the table.

“I’ve never really been a french toast person. I don’t know if I wanna risk it.”

Eddie gives you a pointed look, sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. “You rode a motorcycle. How much more risky is a plate of french toast?”

“Maybe that was all the risk-taking I had in me for one day.” You force yourself to shrug noncommittally. You don’t know why breakfast food is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, but you’re going down swinging.

“Well, you already trusted me with your life.” Eddie takes the sunglasses off and tucks his fist under his chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “Think you can trust me with this?”

Suddenly, all of the fight in you disappears. There’s that sincerity in his voice again. You realize then that the best and worst thing about Eddie Munson is how genuine he always sounds.

“Yeah, I do.”

The smile on his face is so bright that you feel compelled to look away. Eddie orders for both of you. It’s enough food to feed a small army, but it seems that Dorothy is used to it because she leaves the table with a wink and says if y’all need anything just holler!

“Do you mind?” You say, pulling out the notepad and pen from your purse.

Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. It’s almost imperceptible. Almost. In the small amount of time you’ve known him, it has become abundantly clear that Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve. Recovering quickly, he gives you the go-ahead and smiles. For the first time today, his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So,” You begin, clicking the button on your ballpoint. “I have to ask. Toto?”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He goes on a whole spiel about how he was having a terrible day and walked into the diner feeling homesick and hungry. When he first came to L.A. he felt like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of Oz. Once the novelty wore off, he found himself missing when the world used to be so black and white. Upon telling the wise waitress, aptly named Dorothy, she lovingly told him, Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. The nickname stuck ever since.

The story almost sounds rehearsed. A perfect sound bite that shows how you can take the boy out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of the boy. And yet, you feel inclined to believe him. Eddie just seems to have that effect on people.

The food finally arrives and you’re amazed to find that Eddie’s eyes are not bigger than his stomach. He talks about music and his band in between bites of pancakes and hashbrowns, both of them drowned in an inch of syrup. He speaks of his friends back in Indiana with a certain fondness, but you can’t help but notice how avoids naming his hometown. He also never refers to Hawkins as back home, instead saying where I’m from.

Conversation between the two of you flows as easily as the never-ending coffee from Dorothy’s pot. It’s almost too easy to forget that this is an interview. Remembering yourself, you take a moment to ask Eddie one of the harder-hitting questions you have in your back pocket.

“What about Evelyn Chau?”

Eddie winces. The open book that was sitting before you shuts tight with a resilient slam. The mouthful of pancakes and syrup seems to turn to sludge as his chewing slows. Despite having no regard for table manners earlier, he points at his lips and holds up a finger to indicate that he needs a minute to swallow.

After taking a sip of coffee and wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he slouches in his seat and crosses his arms defensively.

“What about Evelyn Chau?” He repeats your question back to you but with an unmistakable air of forced nonchalance.

You want to crumble under his pointed gaze, but you don’t. You steel yourself with the reminder that asking uncomfortable questions is part of your job description. Besides, it would raise many more alarms if you didn’t ask about the raven-haired model spotted painting the town with him than if you did.

“Everyone wants to know if you’re together.”

“Everyone.” He exaggerates the word, using his index finger to trace the lip of his coffee cup. “Does that include you?”

The smirk on his face indicates that he’s either messing with you or flirting with you. Maybe both.

“Well,” you demure. “are you?”

“Evie is just a friend.” Eddie’s still perfectly composed, but the familiarity with which he says her nickname betrays him. His face twitches when he catches his slip-up. “A really close friend.”

It’s already too late. He couldn’t convince you that she was just a friend if he tried. A flash of a crossed-out halo and crooked angel wings comes to mind.

You’re about to ask him another question, but Dorothy and her impeccable timing interrupts the moment by placing the check on the table. Eddie throws down a few bills from an old leather wallet, while you’re trying to figure out how you can spin a two-hour diner date into an entire article.

Eddie stretches as he stands up, the hem of his black v-neck raises to expose a tattoo on his right hip that snakes down further than you’re supposed to look. On the other side, you catch a muddled array of purple and red scar tissue. Averting your eyes, you look up and are met with a stony gaze. He caught you staring.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

Because you’re a very stupid, stupid woman, you agree.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

taglist: @twisted-wonderland-of-wren

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #mimi wrote ✍️#can i ask you a question?

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 10 days

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NASA to hoist its sail: Solar sail mission gets ready for launch

A NASA mission testing a new way of navigating our solar system is ready to hoist its sail into space—not to catch the wind, but the propulsive power of sunlight. The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System is targeting launch on Tuesday, April 23 (Wednesday, April 24 in New Zealand) aboard a Rocket Lab Electron rocket from the company's Launch Complex 1 on the Mahia Peninsula of New Zealand.

Rocket Lab's Electron rocket will deploy the mission's CubeSat about 600 miles above Earth—more than twice the altitude of the International Space Station. To test the performance of NASA's Advanced Composite Solar Sail System, the spacecraft must be in a high enough orbit for the tiny force of sunlight on the sail—roughly equivalent to the weight of a paperclip resting on your palm—to overcome atmospheric drag and gain altitude.

After a busy initial flight phase, which will last about two months and includes subsystems checkout, the microwave oven-sized CubeSat will deploy its reflective solar sail. The weeks-long test consists of a series of pointing maneuvers to demonstrate orbit raising and lowering, using only the pressure of sunlight acting on the sail.

NASA's Advanced Composite Solar Sail System aims to prove its ability to sail across space, increasing access and enabling low-cost missions to the moon, Mars, and beyond.

IMAGE....An artist’s concept of NASA’s Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft in orbit. Credit: NASA/Aero Animation/Ben Schweighart

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics

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loveysmoke6998 · 1 year

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This is my first fanfic so plz be nice (long one at least for me)

Lo’ak was always insecure, insecure about his body, his skills, his worthlessness. He loathed everything about himself, and now that his brother is gone he must not only live up to his fathers name but his brother too. It was all too much he was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to be near anyone, but he wouldn’t mind you right now.

He meet you on the sinking ship, you were standing on the very small area left afloat, shaking. You were scared, if not terrified, you were young. Just around his age at the time, but that wasn’t all he noticed. You were chained up, in cuffs, you looked injured and run down. Yet just as he was getting close from behind he noticed you were branded. You can even say dehumanized, how could humans do an act so horrible, so dehumanizing, so torturous?! That was when he felt something touch him.

His father was behind him also looking at you. “Son do what your heart tells you” he says looking at his son solemnly at his as he understood the conflict in his sons head. With that Jake left, and Lo’ak saved you. Petrified of the Navi you were hesitant to accepting his offer, but you figure it would be better than drowning. As he took you with him as soon as you reached the village you passed out from exhaustion, due to the overwhelming you faced as the boat was sinking and your people were dying. To be honest you didn’t consider them your people. They did in despicable things to you, using you a just another experiment; a lab rat. That’s what they considered you nothing but a waste of space, someone to take their anger upon. Those bastards would torture you, violate you, rid you of your dignity, the only good thing they ever did is adjust your lungs to breathe the air on pandora. Just invade they’d use you as bait and didn’t wanna waste money on a mask especially made for you.

You never wanted to go through that again, but as you were riding with Lo’ak you weren’t scared, nor petrified. You were content, tired but nonetheless content, he was warm, comforting, kind. He was making sure that you were still there behind him as you were too scared to hold onto him. The inevitably changed the moment he went slightly faster now forcing you to latch onto him to stay on. You were struggling to stay awake since he was so warm. That was the last thing you remember since you passed out the second you were inside the village. Jake and Netiri were waiting for him.Jake knowing about his “guest.” However he could let you be alone with his son because you were one of the sky people, so you slept with the Sully family. As you awoken from your sleep you were surrounded by the Sully family. They said they would teach you their ways as long as you stayed loyal to the Navi, and that’s exactly what you did.

(7 years later)

You’ve adapted to their way of life now, adjusted to their ways. However their was one person you never quite got adjusted to Lo’ak. Over the years you guys grew closer and you’ve developed a crush. I know 20’s a little old for a crush but he was the only one who truly acknowledged you as part of the Navi. You were an outsider, no one wanted you there, you were treated as if you were just a dog. Yet you’d rather be treated with discrimination then an experiment. Out of everyone in the Sully family he was the only one who wouldn’t look at you with those eyes. Eyes that knew you weren’t their kind, eyes that knew you weren’t supposed to be here. That’s why you went out with Lo’ak more these days. You gained their trust enough to be alone with him, and the days you spent with him were the most fun. Unless you got on the ikran (the dragon) you were petrified of falling especially at this height that you knew you wouldn’t survive. He was slowly trying to make you less scared of heights but it never worked he’d always need to land mid flight because you’d start having a panic attack from the altitude. He never judged you for that, instead in his head he’d punish himself for making you go through that. Even at 20 years old he still had problems with self worth, and self love. Yet even if he saw you at your lowest he never let you see that part of him. That part that was covered in self loathing, the part that was under so much pressure that he didn’t even know what to do. The only thing he was 100% sure of in his mind was that he wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to be know as the freak, the outcast, the demon. He knew what it was like to go through that and he’d never ever want you to go through that.

But there was one thing he’d do to soothe his aching head from his thoughts. When you were asleep he’d tell you everything, his self consciousness, his thoughts, his insecurities, he’d tell you everything that plagued his mind. However today was different today was the day his brother died. He felt like a coward, a useless, ridiculous coward. He didn’t even have the courage to tell you this even if you were asleep. Well at least he thought you were. You were a very light sleeper so you’d hear everything he’d tell you, keeping it as a mental note to praise him the next day. But tonight he didn’t do that, everyone was asleep but he was no where to be found. With that you got up and went to the only place you’d think he’d be at… Eywa. The only part that scared you was the swim over there. Of course you’ve swam on his Ilu but never alone. Yet you figured the llu would have a connection to you. But there you stood confused was Lo’ak really that mad at himself that he swam all the way over there alone. You couldn’t tell, but you took the llu that thankfully recognized you and was happy to see you. With that you two swam to Eywa. Seeing his there tired from swimming and looking like he was about to drown. With that you gave the llu to him as he sat there gaining his breath and questioning why you were here. Reluctantly you told him that you’d hear him vent to you every night but since you didn’t hear him this night you went to go look for him.

Damn he never felt more guilty then at that moment. You heard everything! He felt so bad because that wasn’t your baggage to carry, not you guilt to have. With that he broke, the walls surrounding his heart faltering as he sobbed into your shoulder. You’ve never seen him like this before he was so vulnerable, so broken. You understood him so you let him take it all out. You guys were there until sunrise just allowing him to be vulnerable and take it all out. After he finished sobbing and started to relax a little. He realized that he felt safe with you, like you were his rock. So he decided to tell you why it was tonight that he was like this. He told you how his brother was the mighty warrior of the family and took a bullet for him to survive. Saying that it was his fault. When he said that you pulled his hair, him hissing at you until he heard those words com out of your mouth. That he “wasn’t at fault for any of that shit” and that he was “ so fucking important to you because you loved him…” You… what?! You loved him he couldn’t fucking believe it. Out of all people you loved him a freak and a failure, but before he could say anything he felt you grab his hair and make the bond on your heart. That’s when he felt it all the love you had for him, how your heart was beating, how you were breathing. That’s when he finally decided to take the hint and kiss you. Until he heard something or better someone whistle at him it was his father. Both of you were alarmed until his father told him that he was proud of him for doing that, and that he approved you guy’s relationship. Now that was you guys happy ending.

#lo’ak x reader #first fanfic #be nice #spoils #avatar pandora

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fourthwingfan · 22 days

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Madness - Chapter 15

Hello there. I'm here with the new chapter. Enjoy :)

Just because you survive Threshing doesn’t mean you’ll survive the ride to the flight field. Being chosen isn’t the only test, and if you can’t hold your seat, then you’ll fly straight into the ground.

—Page fifty, the Book of Brennan

Air rushes past us and I sit higher in the seat and look out over the landscape, wind ripping tears from the corners of my eyes. No wonder most riders choose to wear goggles. There are at least a dozen dragons in the air, each putting their rider through a trial of dips and turns. Reds, oranges, greens, browns, the sky is speckled with color.

My heart lurches as I see a rider fall from the back of a Red Swordtail and the dragon doesn’t dip to catch the first-year. I look away before the body hits the ground.

It’s not anyone you know. That’s what I tell myself. Violet, Liam, Ethan… They’re all probably safely bonded and already waiting at the field.

“We’re going to have to put on a show.”

“Awesome.” The idea is exciting, but I don’t know if I can hold on correctly.

“You will not fall. And you will trust me.”

Not a question. An order.

“I trust you with my life, Aon!” I shout and grip tighter the pommels and I tighten my legs.

“There’s no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. The entire mountain can probably hear you.”

Oh, yes. He can hear my thoughts.

His wings give a mighty beat, and we lurch upward in what feels like a ninety-degree climb, leaving my stomach back at the lower altitude. He crests the top of the snow-dusted peaks, and we hang there for a breath of a second before he twists, diving back down at the same terrifying angle.

It’s the most exhilarating moment of my life.

Then he twists again, sending us into a spiral.

My body is wrenched this way and that as I hold on as hard as I can when he completes turn after turn, pulling us out of the dive only to bank so hard, I swear the land becomes the sky, then repeats it all until my face splits into a grin, and I laugh out loud in joy.

There is nothing like this.

It’s pure freedom.

In the sky there’s no fear, no hatred, no duty.

It’s just Aon and I.

I have never felt so free in my life.

„I think we made our point.” He pulls us level, then banks right, starting up the valley that leads to the box canyon of the training fields. The sun is close to setting behind the peaks, but there’s still enough to see Tairn and the little golden dragon with him. They stand in the middle of the field. I’m really happy Tairn chose Violet.

„Why did you choose me?” I have to know, because as soon as we land, there are going to be questions. “Professor Kaori showed us the dragons who was willing to bond this year and you weren’t among them.”

“As I said I won’t choose someone who is not worth my time. I watched, then decided. You’re smart. And you’re willing to protect the weaker. Let this be enough for now. You have to gain knowledge about what is beyond the walls of this school.”

Beyond this school? Are they witholding information from us?

Memories flash before my eyes.

The General wants me to observe the marked-ones, as if he can’t ‘see’ them with his signet. This is already suspicious.

Then he shows me a strange dagger and wants me to report him if I see even one. When I asked about it, he became irritated.

“Don’t think about it now, golden one. You have to learn how to shield your mind from others.” He says as we pass over the Gauntlet and crest the narrow entrance to the training fields.

I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of so many dragons. There are hundreds gathered along the rocky edges of the mountain slopes behind the bleachers that were erected overnight. Spectators. And at the bottom of the valley, in the same field I’d walked only a couple of days before, are two lines of dragons facing each other.

“They are divided between those still in the quadrant who chose in years past and those who chose today.” Aon tells me.

The General will be here, on the dais in front of the bleachers. I hope I can avoid him tonight.

A ferocious roar of celebration goes up among the dragons as we fly in, every head swinging our way, and I know it’s in deference to Aon. So is the parting of the dragons at the very center of the field, making room for him to land beside Tairn.

And then we land in the dead center of the field. The impact jars me slightly, but I sit up tall in the seat and even let go of the pommel ridges.

Aon tucks his wings up and looks over his shoulder at me. “You need to dismount, then tell the roll-keeper—”

“I know what to do.” I pull in a shaky breath. I can do it. I just need to go there and avoid eyecontact with the General.

I step over the scales of Aon’s shoulder and, before I can lament the distance I’m about to have to jump I just do it.

I land safely on my feet, bending my knees a little to lessen the impact.

“Don’t foget that you’re mine now, little one. And nobody can harm what it’s mine!” Aon lowers his head and blows at me warm air through his nose.

I walk across the wide field, heading for the small formation directly ahead of me. Behind me, wind sporadically gusts as more dragons land and their riders dismount to have their names recorded, but it’s softer and softer as the line spreads farther down the field. Look like we weren’t that late.

Dusk falls, and a series of mage lights illuminates the crowd in the bleachers and on the dais. In the very center, right above where the redhead from Parapet is recording roll, is General Sorrengail, dressed in all her military finery, medals and all. Though there is an assortment of generals on the dais, each representing their wing, there’s only one more highly decorated than Lilith Sorrengail.

General Melgren, the commanding general of all Navarrian forces.

They stand in a tight circle and they’re shouting. What the hell happened?

I approach the roll-keeper at the base of the dais, who’s recording bonded pairs.

“Aelin Melgren.” She looks up, then writes my name in the Book of Riders. “For the record please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

I lift my chin. “Aonniasach.”

“Pronunciation could use some work.” Aon’s voice rumbles through my head.

“Hey, at least I remembered,” I think back in his general direction, wondering if he’ll hear me across the field. “You said that I will forget it.”

“What is this commotion?” I lean closer and whisper to the roll-keeper.

She quickly looks at the shouting crowd then back at me. “It’s about Violet. She bonded with two dragons.”

What? How is that possible?

I walk toward Aon while I search for Violet.

There she is, between Tairn’s legs.

Should I go and talk to her?

“It’s not a good idea right now, little one.” Aon says in my head. “Come back, for now.”

I sigh and do as he say.

I’m so tiny compared to him. He’s smaller than Tairn, but bigger than anyone else on this field.

I stand in front of his left leg and look around. I hope to spot my friends. I need to know they’re all right.

“Look left.”

I turn in that direction and I see a grinning Liam. He’s in front of a rather big red daggertail.

I step closer to him but still maintain a safe distance. Dragons only allows their rider to approach them.

He too walks closer and hugs me tightly.

“Aelin, I’m so glad you’re here!” He whispers. “I was worried that something happened to you.”

“Well, I ran into a little trouble, but nothing I can’t handle.” I say and pull back to look into his eyes. “And you? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks me over. “Is that your blood?” He asks in a concerned voice.

“No. It’s the ‘troubles’ blood.” I shake my head grinning.

“You have to tell me later.” He sighs then looks up at Aon. “And your dragon is…”

“He’s Aon, a blue morningstartail.” I grin proudly at Aon. “He’s a little bit grumpy but deep down he’s a cutie.”

He looks at me with an expression that’s probably the dragon’s version of an eye roll.

„I’m not a ’cutie’, little one. I am a dragon.” Aon says in my head.

„Grumpy.” reply in my mind.

“See? I told you.” I laugh at Liam.

“Is it just me or he looks a bit like Sgaeyl?” He leans closer and whispers. “I mean it’s not just because he’s a blue dragon. His horns and… I don’t know, maybe I’m mistaken.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I haven’t seen another blue.” I shrug. “What about your dragon?”

“He’s Deigh, a red daggertail.” He stands straighter and looks so proud, I can’t help and smile at him.

“He looks pretty badass.” I say.

“Yes, he…” Liam turns around and looks at Deigh with wide eyes. Then he laughs.

“What did he say?” I ask curiously.

“He saw you.” He says still laughing. “He…saw you in the woods.”

“What? When?” I raise my eybrows.

“You were near to a clearing, and he said you were frozen like a sheep when you saw him, only you didn’t look so edible.”

“A sheep?” I look at Deigh and start laughing. “Yeah, maybe I was intimidated by an unbonded dragon. But thank him for me that he didn’t eat me.” So he was the red I saw. Good to know.

“Stay here, little one. The Empyrean will decide your friend’s fate.”

#fourth wing #fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden x oc #sgaeyl #deigh #tairn #andarna #dragons

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liaromancewriter · 22 days

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Stand By Me

Premise: Cassie experiences the downside of having Ethan Ramsey as a mentor.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Format: Prose + Text and Pic Fic Words: 2,610

A/N: Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24 prompt, two-word sentence starter: "you're wrong"

Part 1: The Calm

Cassie Valentine had never traveled quite like this. The cargo plane’s interior was cavernous and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the tightly packed but bright commercial jet that had flown her and Ethan Ramsey from Boston to Miami for the first leg of their trek to assist humanitarian efforts after an earthquake in Haiti.

Cassie thought idly that the jet had been more comfortable with its plush seating. She sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor, a duffle bag shoved behind her, cushioning her lower back from the unyielding steel, and scanned her surroundings.

The sparse interior was devoid of the usual comforts of commercial flights. There were no overhead bins, seatback trays or in-flight entertainment to pass the time. Just an expansive, unadorned metal hull echoing with the sound of the engines, a constant, deafening roar that made any attempt at conversation futile.

“Hope you’re strapped in tight, folks,” Hank, the team leader, shouted above the noise.

Standing in the center of the plane, his legs spread for balance, he stretched his long arms to grip one of the loops hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but at least there’s no middle seat to fight over,” Hank continued matter-of-factly as the plane gained speed on the runway, its sides rattling in response. A few people chuckled.

He finished his safety instructions a minute or two before the wheels lifted off the tarmac, and quickly strapped himself into a jump seat on the far side. He caught her watching him, and winked flirtatiously.

Back on the ground, Ethan had greeted Hank with an easy familiarity borne out of their shared experience during the Amazon mission years earlier. The casual insults had rolled off their tongues as they needled each other jokingly.

Cassie suspected this trip would be eye-opening in more ways than one as she spied on Ethan’s relaxed profile out of the corner of her eye. As if sensing her scrutiny, he glanced askance at her and she gave him a thumbs up signal.

She huddled inside the leather jacket, shivering from the chill that permeated the aircraft as it began its ascent. Leaning her head on Ethan’s shoulder, she smiled ruefully at Libby, the petite red-haired fifth-year surgical resident strapped in across from her.

They’d gotten to chatting in the hangar as they waited for the plane to be loaded with boxes filled with medical and food supplies and humanitarian aid packages. Libby, on her third trip to a disaster zone, had been a fount of information on what to expect and advice on how to manage in crude living conditions.

Cassie felt a sense of adventure mingled with apprehension. The headlines coming out of Port-au-Prince had painted a bleak picture of destruction, death and despair.

When Ethan’s contact in the WHO reached out asking for medical volunteers, Cassie knew she wasn’t going to be left behind this time. She might not have experience in field hospitals, but it was time she got it.

Ethan hadn’t argued or tried to talk her out of it. They were doctors; this is what they did.

As the plane reached cruising altitude, Cassie peered out of a small window near the floor. The view was obscured by a thick mesh covering the outside, but it did little to diminish the sense of wonder at the vast blue sea below, the calm surface broken only by the white crests of waves.

The flight was long, longer still, with nothing to do to pass the time. Cassie found herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the monotony of the engine’s roar and the comforting feel of Ethan’s arm around her.

The next thing she knew, he was nudging her awake. The plane’s vibration beneath her had changed, gradually descending as they approached their destination. The atmosphere inside was abuzz with anticipation. Shortly after, the plane touched down on the tarmac, the landing rougher than the take-off.

“Ready?” Ethan asked as they unstrapped themselves once the plane had come to a halt.

Cassie nodded, stretching her arms and legs to shake off the stiffness. “Next time, remind me to grab a sleeping bag and some snacks.”

He chuckled, but his smile was soft as he stared into her green eyes. He ran his index finger down the side of her face, tucked back a lock of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail, and tilted her face up.

The kiss was a mere brush of the lips, whisper soft, barely there before it was gone. It was the last moment of normality. Once they disembarked, everything would change.

Part 2: The Storm

The oppressive heat and humidity were unlike anything Cassie had experienced before, although she’d certainly been to the tropics. Her brother’s island home on St. Thomas was a few hundred miles east, but its luxurious, air-conditioned environs were worlds apart from the rows of beige-colored tents spread out in every direction.

The back of her short-sleeved cotton scrub top was damp from perspiration, so she lifted the hem to air it out. Exiting the stuffy interior of a medical tent housing non-urgent cases, Cassie took a deep breath. The pungent smells of human waste and unwashed bodies hit her nostrils immediately, and she started gagging.

Sweat dripped down her face, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. In the last few days, she’d lost her weight in fluids as they dug latrines, carried supplies from one end of the field hospital to another and spent hours in airless spaces treating patients whose eyes were inconsolable with loss.

It had taken her more than a minute to get her bearings, but Ethan had been in his element. She knew he’d volunteered with Partners in Health when he was a resident and fellow. But she’d had a hard time picturing the sophisticated, opera-loving Dr. Ramsey in such crude surroundings, digging ditches, boots covered in mud, grime staining his clothes.

They had both been busy in their respective areas, retreating every night, bone tired, muscles aching, to their assigned bedroom in staff housing near the hospital. All they did was sleep before waking up early to do it all over again.

Suddenly missing him and desperate to feel his arms around her, Cassie marched down the dirt path between tents, her green eyes searching for him or someone familiar who could tell her if they’d seen him.

Her ears pricked when she heard his deep voice and distinctive laugh close by. Changing directions, she followed her instincts and turned left, slowing down when she saw him standing in the middle of a clearing, his back to her.

Ethan was with an older man she hadn’t met before. His gray hair was long from the back, brushing past his collar, with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose. He spoke English with a heavy accent, gesticulating with his hands for emphasis.

The other man caught her spying on them, and his voice boomed, chiding. “Ah, another acolyte for my young friend. It’s always the same story, eh, Ramsey?”

Cassie flushed when she realized he was referring to her.

Surprised, Ethan spun on his heels and relaxed when he spotted her. “Cassie.”

Her earlier euphoria faded, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach as she joined them.

“You know each other?” The other man asked, glancing between her and Ethan.

“Klaus, meet Dr. Valentine.” Ethan made the introductions. “Cassie, this is Dr. van Rijn, special missions head at the WHO. We go way back.”

“Valentine, Valentine. Why do I know that name?” Dr. van Rijn tapped one finger against his lips before his eyes cleared in recognition. “Ah, yes, of course.”

Cassie felt a momentary high at being recognized by someone of his stature, but his next words had her deflating like a balloon popped with a pin.

“You’re the intern!”

“That was six years ago,” Ethan shook his head in amusement. “She’s hardly an intern anymore, Klaus. Dr. Valentine is—”

“Your mentee, or rather, your protege,” he interrupted. “Yes, yes, Ethan, I remember. My hair is more gray than when we last saw each other, but my memory is sharper than ever.”

“But your hearing could use some work,” Ethan retorted, shoving his hands in his pant pockets. “As I was saying….”

Cassie saw herself standing in a long tunnel, the dismissive words spoken by the other man echoing around her. Intern. Mentee. Ramsey’s protege. Reduced to nothing more than that.

“Cassie, are you alright?”

Ethan’s concerned voice broke through her reverie, and she looked up, startled. They were both staring at her, one in disquiet and the other with curiosity.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Cassie said. “What were you talking about?”

“Ethan was just telling me you’re now leading his former team,” van Rijn said. “That’s quite an accomplishment for one so young. You made a smart decision when you chose to train under Dr. Ramsey. He’s one of the best and most astute physicians I’ve ever met. You’ll go far if you keep following in your mentor’s footsteps.”

Incensed at the implication that her success was not of her own making, Cassie opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort or at least defend her record. But Ethan stepped in front of her, figuratively, and beat her to it.

“That’s unfair, Klaus,” Ethan said sternly. “Dr. Valentine is brilliant. She diagnosed and found a cure for Naveen when he and I had both given up. She’s the keynote speaker at this year’s AADM conference, just like I was all those years ago, and is a special advisor to a Congressional national committee on healthcare affordability.”

He paused, frowning slightly before continuing. “And before you shove your foot even further down your mouth, you’ve apparently forgotten that she’s also my wife.”

Cassie stared in shock at Ethan, her ears ringing. His wife?!? That’s how he chose to end this? She thought they were partners and equals first, but clearly, she’d been mistaken.

“I heard you’d gotten married,” van Rijn said, flustered, “but I didn’t realize it was to…”

His words trailed off, and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he glanced at Cassie.

Ethan, too, watched her warily as she continued to stand there in stony silence, arms folded tightly across her front.

As she grappled with her emotions, feeling the old imposter syndrome return, Cassie knew she would blow her top if she didn’t walk away now. Preferably with her dignity intact.

“It was a pleasure,” she almost tripped over the word, “to meet you, Dr. van Rijn. I have to get back to work.”

She nodded rigidly at Ethan. “I’ll see you later.”

She was practically running once she was out of sight, unable to slow down despite the heat making her lightheaded.

Cassie often counted her blessings that she’d gotten a chance to work with Ethan, the compassionate and caring doctor who’d captured her heart. But for the first time in her life, she wished she’d never met Dr. Ramsey.

Part 3: The Aftermath

Part 4: The Closure

Ethan poured Malbec into a long-stemmed wine glass for Cassie the moment he heard her keys rattle in the apartment door. He’d had his ears cocked for the last half-hour, the trepidation building with every passing minute.

He heard the swoosh of the hallway closet door as she likely hung up her coat and the clatter of her shoes hitting the hardwood floor. Just as she walked into the living room, he took a large swallow of his wine and promptly started coughing when it went down the wrong pipe.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asked, her brow furrowed in concern as she approached him and brushed her hand up and down his back.

Ethan nodded, wheezing as the cough tickled his throat. He set the glass on the counter before he spilled the drink all over the kitchen floor. Finally, he managed to get himself under control.

Cassie lifted the glass of wine he’d poured for her and sipped slowly, her eyes closing as she savored the taste.

“You always know just what I need,” she said with a deep sigh. “M&M was particularly long and exhausting. Tell me, why did I choose to stay in academic medicine?”

“You’re wrong,” Ethan said quietly, causing her eyes to drift open and stare at him in surprise. “I don’t always know what you need. Something’s gone wrong between us. Things haven’t been the same since Haiti.”

Cassie pursed her lips and watched him above the rim of her glass, not reacting to his statement in any other way. Then she finished her wine and set the glass down on the counter.

“We already discussed this back then and today on text,” Cassie reminded him. “What else is there to say?”

She shrugged, and then her eyes turned hard like steel. “I need to stand on my own, but who you are, what you are…well, it casts a long shadow. I didn’t like how you and Klaus reduced me to someone who exists only because of what you saw in me. And not because I worked hard for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Cassie cut him off. “You might not have meant to, but you defending me without giving me a chance to do it myself, you might as well have.”

“Why can’t I stand up for you?” Ethan said, frustration leaking through as he stabbed his fingers into his hair.

“I need you to stand by me, not for me,” Cassie said, her tone measured in response to his heated one. “I will always be measured by your reputation, just like you have to contend with Naveen’s legacy. We can’t control what others say or do. I’ve accepted it.”

“Then why are you angry with me?” Ethan shot back.

“I’m not angry.”

Cassie closed the distance between them, her smile throwing him off. When she took his hand and laced her fingers through his, he felt as if the tight band around his heart loosened.

“I’m not angry,” she repeated, squeezing his fingers. “But I resent that, despite what we talked about in Haiti, your natural inclination on seeing that Pictagram post was to respond defending my honor.”

“Don’t deny it,” she cautioned when he started to do just that. “If I wanted to shoot down small-minded individuals, I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

Ethan took a deep breath in and then exhaled. “I did want to do that,” he admitted. “I saw red because what they said was so far from reality.”

“If you thought that was bad, it’s good you’re not on Reddit,” Cassie said, twisting her lips in a wry smile.

“You know, if someone attacked your reputation, I’d be upset too.” She nestled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“But we both know the truth. I respect you enough to let you tear into shreds anyone that came at you. Give me the same courtesy, at least professionally,” Cassie added, angling her lips to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“If it was a personal attack, you have my permission to destroy them with that deathly Dr. Ramsey glare.”

Ethan snorted with laughter when she perfectly mimicked his angry expression.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, framing her face between his hands. His lips hovered above hers, waiting, prolonging the anticipation.

“You may kis—”

But she didn’t need to finish for he was already kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Everything was finally right in their world.

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

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my-head-is-an-animal · 8 months

Text

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 5

I really wasn’t sure what to make of Optimus’s strange response to my question, but I maintained that if he had faith in me, then everything would be okay.

Colonel Morshower called in for an update with myself and Lennox, Optimus was loitering on the other side of the hanger, behind the screen.

‘How’s it going Dr Harding?’ He asked, sitting down in his usual seat on the video link.

‘Well, I’m not out of breath walking up those stairs anymore.’ I tried to joke, gaining only a small smile from the Colonel.

‘It’s going well, sir.’ Lennox intervened. ‘Dr Harding’s physical capabilities have improved drastically over the last two months and her team have been working on a way to reduce the amount needed to climb.’

‘How? I thought electronics would be detected?’

‘Yes, sir.’ I cut in. ‘But we can use a suction gun that works via air pressure instead. No electronics needed.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Morshower nodded. ‘What about when you get inside the ship?’

‘That’s proving to be more difficult.’ Lennox admitted. ‘So far as we can tell, Dr Harding will need to either take or construct a small bomb to disrupt the ship enough to stop it from harvesting our core.’

‘Make a bomb?’

‘Oh, it’s easy enough, but the hard part will be having to carry the extra weight.’ I waved my hand, dismissing the question.

‘It’s easy, is it?’ Morshower raised his eyebrow, almost amused. ‘Remind me to keep a closer eye on you Doctor. What about descent?’

I felt the guilt whip at my chest as Lennox stepped forward. ‘We’re planning a parachute jump, but hopefully by that point, the ship will be incapacitated, and Harding can be picked up by one of the Autobots.’

I glanced at Optimus who may well have been thinking the same thing as me.

‘This plan seems to be getting more and more elaborate by the day, are you sure you’re up to it, Harding?’

‘Well, we don’t have much of a choice now, sir.’ I sighed. ‘It’s too late to train anyone else and if making a bomb is now an essential component, it limits the possibilities considerably.’

‘Very well.’

The colonel and Lennox had other things to discuss, and I had an air pressure gun to build with Theo. I wandered back down the stairs and caught Optimus out of the corner of my eye, he always watched me, like he was expecting something to happen.

I went back to the lab and continued working on the prototype gun, Theo had managed to shave off a lot of the weight already, but it would still be weight I didn’t want to carry around. I’d already started training carrying a parachute and a couple of weights that approximated the same weight needed to construct a small bomb. It made everything harder, but Lennox reminded me that gravity was heavier closer to the Earth’s surface, it should get easier the further up I went.

‘Shit.’ I whispered.

‘What?’ Theo suddenly looked down at the gun I was constructing. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Altitude.’ I breathed. ‘The air’s going to be really thin up there.’

‘Shit.’ Theo sighed as well.

Suddenly everything was that much harder. If I ran out of breath in an oxygen rich environment, then I would almost certainly pass out so close to the edge of the atmosphere.

I went for a walk in the quieter part of the base, just getting some space to think.

‘Harding.’ Ironhide nodded as I wandered passed him hanging out with Bumblebee. ‘Made any progress on that gun yet? I’ll gladly help you out.’

I chuckled. ‘I told you, it’s not a real gun, it’s to help me make the climb. If I can get it working, I can pull myself up maybe twenty feet at a time.’

‘Urgh, so civil.’ He shook his head, making me laugh a little. ‘So, not to intrude, but how did it go with Prime the other night?’

‘What do you mean?’ I frowned.

‘He came back to the hanger in a beast of a mood. What did you say to him?’

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t say anything. I asked him why he let me speak the first day we met, and he told me he couldn’t say. Then he basically ordered me to get some rest. That was about it.’

‘Hmm.’ Ironhide shrugged and began walking away.

I couldn’t dwell too much on his question, I needed to figure out a way to breathe while at high altitude without resorting to carrying an oxygen tank.

I found a quiet spot just behind a hill and sat on the grass staring out at the ocean. It was beautiful, but it was obvious all of a sudden that I wasn’t alone. Optimus.

‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’ He said, looking as if he’d been standing there for some time.

‘It’s okay, I can leave you alone if you wanted some peace.’ I went to stand.

‘No.’ He stopped me, holding out his hand, but immediately brought it back to his side and said nothing else.

‘Okay.’ I didn’t want to push him to say what was on his mind, he didn’t need that from me.

‘How is your progress?’ Optimus suddenly asked, keeping his conversation professional.

‘It’s fine.’ I shook my head. ‘But I had the realisation that at such a high altitude, lack of oxygen is a problem.’

‘Hmm.’ He nodded running his finger along his chin thoughtfully. ‘I have seen humans wear masks when oxygen is low, can you not construct a device that operates in a similar fashion?’

‘I can, but the problem is the weight. I’ll already be carrying more than I want to and I can’t carry anything unnecessary.’

‘Oxygen is necessary.’ Optimus countered.

‘I know.’ I sighed. ‘I just mean…’ I really didn’t want to say what I was thinking. ‘I could swap the parachute for an oxygen mask, that way we’ll actually be shaving off some weight.’

‘The parachute is for your descent. It is also necessary.’

I let a heavy breath go. ‘Look, you and I both know that my chances of survival are slim anyway, the fact is I will have to put the bomb on a timer and I don’t know if I’ll have enough energy left to make my way off that ship-‘

‘Stop.’ Optimus growled, once again, descending to his knees to talk to me. ‘You will make the descent, Dr Harding. You cannot sacrifice yourself needlessly.’

‘It won’t be needless if it saves the world.’ I shot back.

‘I cannot allow you to die on this mission, I would rather do so myself.’ He was angry, I knew that much, but shame seemed to follow from the way his complex face moved afterwards.

‘Look, I know we’re different beings,’ I started, noting a change in his expression that I couldn’t quite identify. ‘I know we have different cultures and honestly, when I first dreamed about meeting an Autobot, one of the first things I thought about was how great it would be to get to know you, understand your customs, the way you work and maybe if you trusted me enough, I could ask you about how you operate. But now, all I want is to know what it is about me that upsets you so much.’

‘Upsets me?’

‘Because right now… I feel so small compared to you, I feel like I can’t do this and I was never worthy of being your choice-‘

‘Stop.’ Optimus commanded again, moving himself closer to me, hesitating before stopping completely. Optimus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Dr Harding, I cannot express my feelings for you in a way that would represent them accurately. All I know, is that if you fail, if you die, I may lose my reason for being.’

I felt my heart fall through the floor, before shooting back up to my chest and working in overdrive.

‘I don’t understand.’ I could feel the tears escaping. ‘Are you saying…’ I swallowed unable to imagine ever asking what I was about to ask, especially to Optimus Prime. ‘Are you saying you like me?’

‘It would be such a small fraction of my feelings for you, but yes, I do.’ He nodded and I could feel my heart pumping even harder. ‘I do not expect you to return such feelings, but I would ask that you continue to look after yourself, it pains me greatly to see you hurting yourself, or not complying with your body’s wishes to rest.’

I didn’t have the chance to say anything else. Optimus immediately stood and transformed into the blue and red flamed truck and drove away. What was I supposed to do with the information?

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