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The Only Truth... | Part Four

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

The day Stalag VIIA is liberated ought to be one of pure celebration. Unfortunately, fate has other plans in store.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Death, Blood, Brief Battle, Serious Reader Injury [gunshot wound], POW Camp Setting, SS Officers, Mental Health Struggles, References to Christianity, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Thank you all ever so much for your patience! At last we come to the end of our tale. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6267

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The morning of Sunday, April 29, 1945, dawned cloudy but bright. The chill of early spring still hung in the air, your breath hanging from your lips as you ducked out into the tent to collect the clean yet still-unfolded laundry that had been awaiting your attention throughout the drama of the rainstorm. You had just managed to tuck it away into your room when Fitzgibbons arrived with a new book for you to read, a more recently published fantasy novel called The Hobbit, though you had other priorities before diving into it.

You had almost gotten away with your clandestine chores, rags folded, and three-quarters of the bandages rolled, when your former surgical technician appeared at your door, knocking on the frame with an admonishing look on his face.

“I see you’re taking it easy on your day off, Ma’am.”

Huffing in irritation at being caught, you shook your head. “I’m off my feet, Fitz, can’t we just call a truce?”

He made a non-committal noise before cracking a grin. “Actually came to ask a favor, so I’m thinking we can come to an agreement. Menzies,” his deliberate mispronunciation of the British Captain’s name made you roll your eyes affectionately, “ordered me to flush a wound using your make-shift tools and honestly, I cannot make heads or tails of what you’ve jerry-rigged.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded quickly, well aware that your cobbled-together system was more than a little unorthodox and not at all surprised Menzies had not taken the time to ensure Fitzgibbons knew how it worked. “Certainly, let me walk you through it.”

Grabbing the laundry you had thus far folded, you made your way down the hall to collect the items from the supply desk and followed him to the bedside of a new patient. Introducing yourself warmly, you learned the man’s name was Michaels and he hailed from the frigid wilds of Canada.

“Fitz and I are going to use this here to flush that wound, alright?” You nodded to the nasty laceration on his calf, your makeshift instruments cradled in your arms.

“Sounds fine, Ma’am.” He nodded patiently, vowels clipped remarkably short in that efficient Canuck way of speaking.

“Alright so if you take this, Fitz.” You held out a funnel with a piece of tubing secured to it, watching the tech take it carefully.

The mundane calm of the morning was shattered by the sudden hum of an airplane engine, your eyes shooting to meet Fitzgibbons’ sharply moments before the eruption of gunfire.

“Everyone get down!” He shouted and you both lurched into motion to begin helping your patients from their cots onto the wooden planks of the tent platform, abandoning your instruments on Michaels’ cot.

Panic rising as you once again found yourself in a wildly unsafe place while under fire, you urged the men from their beds to get low, presenting smaller targets for the errant bullets that were punching holes through the canvas of the tent every so often. The cacophony outside only increased with the rumble of approaching vehicles – tanks quite possible given the depth of sound that carried across the camp – and you nearly tripped over your own feet in an effort to reach the last two patients who simply could not move on their own.

Heaving one, Sidhu from India, out of his cot and depositing him onto the floor, you were just sliding your arms beneath the shoulders of the last, Hernandez from Texas, when searing heat and pain punched into your side. Your arms and legs gave out beneath you instantly, your body collapsing atop the poor boy still on his cot, both of you gasping for breath. With a grunt of annoyance, you flung a hand back to your hip, eyes widening as your fingertips were quickly covered in a warm, slick fluid.

“M…Ma’am?!” Hernandez warbled from beneath you, watching as you lifted your fingers to inspect just what was going on, his face blanching at the unmistakable scarlet of blood. “Doc?! Medic!! Help!!!” He began to shriek all the words he knew to summon assistance, making you wince at the racket as you forced yourself to roll off him, crashing to the floor in a pile of uncooperative limbs.

Taking a moment to try and catch your breath, pulse rocketing at an alarming rate, you began to realize that no matter how long you lay there, things were not improving. In fact the situation was growing a lot more serious as a deep ache was settling into your right side and you could feel your clothes growing damper with blood by the second. Rolling onto your stomach, you had just begun to feebly pull yourself across the floor of the tent when the racket outside subsided momentarily, Hernandez’s cries summoning several sets of boots to run in your direction.

A great, external cheer erupted in the same moment you were lifted by many hands onto one of the recently vacated cots, Chalmers, Menzies and Fitzgibbons all hovering above you as they yanked at your shirt and pants to get at your wound. The striking similarity between your plight and that of Simms set your teeth on edge, tears brimming in your eyes at the sudden thought that this could really be it. You might very well die here in these filthy, mud-covered clothes while the rest of the camp cheered on outside.

“Keep breathing for me, Nurse. You’ve got an entry and an exit wound, you just stay with us now.” Chalmers barked firmly and you managed a brief nod despite the shakes that seemed to want to rattle your bones. “Fitz go find out if they’ve got a Medic with them – we need sulfa and plasma, and she needs an aid station and surgery.”

“Sir!” He replied before you heard his frantic footfalls leave the tent.

Menzies applied a ruthless amount of pressure to the front and back of your hip and it was all you could do not to wail pathetically at the lances of pain that shot through you. “I know, Nurse, I know. For your own good, now. Why’d you have to go and get yourself shot in the middle of our liberation, hm?”

“Libe.r.ation?” It was difficult to form the word, your mouth clumsy and filled with cotton, head buzzing with adrenaline and pain.

Your heart was beginning to lose its rhythm, stuttering and skipping beats every so often. Your medical training offered a whispered explanation of ‘blood loss’ which did nothing for the suffocating feeling of panic in your chest.

“Looks like your American Army showed up to bring you home, so let’s make sure you can get there alright?” Chalmers added firmly and you nodded again, trying to take deep breaths.

You were so close. They were right there.

What had started as a frigid day seemed to be growing colder, your fingers tips positively icy by the time you heard Fitzgibbons return, giving someone a rundown. The familiarity of it made your heart ache for a simpler time when the two of you were the ones saving people, taking them from danger to safety. Now you were the one in peril, finding it remarkably difficult to keep your eyes open. The unfamiliar face of a young man in an Army helmet came into view before you felt the sting of sulfa on your wounds.

Your left sleeve was rolled up, your nonsensical protests going unheeded as the man began to search for a vein, inserting an IV for the bottle of cheery yellow plasma – the bright color anachronistic to the monochromatic color palette that pervaded the Stalag. Bandages were wrapped tightly around your middle once more and they were just about to lift you, cot and all, when another set of heavy footfalls sounded on the floorboards.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” Bucky’s voice was unmistakable, though anguished, and you rolled your head to the side to look at him with a weak smile.

“Bucky.” You managed to form his nickname at a volume no more than a whisper, vision narrowing in on his pinched, tight features, the normally rosy hue completely drained from his cheeks.

Suddenly everything tilted and whirled as your cot was hoisted onto the shoulders of Chalmers, Menzies, Fitzgibbons, and the Medic.

“Take the plasma, Egan. Hold it up, keep pace.” Chalmers ordered sharply and the ceiling of the tent began to blur as they rushed out into the daylight, your vision going completely white before all was darkness.

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The morning had seemed like any other, crowded around a small campfire trying to keep warm, trading suppositions about the end of the war with Jefferson, when the unmistakable sound of an aircraft engine had broken through the din of the camp.

“Hey Macon, that’s a P-51!” Jefferson had shouted and instantly the entire population was on their feet, cheering on the pilot as he took out on of the guard towers.

Their elation was short lived, the abrupt sound of incoming artillery sending all the prisoners into the dirt as every single German soldier seemed to open fire as one, the camp instantly an active battlefield. Bucky’s eyes strayed to the hospital tent, its canvas walls helplessly pinned between the encroaching American tanks and the defending German guards. They needed to put a stop to this from the inside before any more lives were needlessly lost. Even as this thought crossed his mind, men were falling all around him.

“Fellas! Take out the tower!” Bucky shouted as he ran for the tent where the majority of the Americans were sheltering, seeking out the homemade stars and stripes they had carefully crafted and transported from camp to camp, kept hidden from goons, just for such an occasion.

It took a few tries before Jefferson successfully came up with the flag, passing it to him quickly. Dashing through the chaos of prisoners running hither and thither through the camp, some fleeing, some fighting guards, Bucky was boosted onto the roof of the administration building. The flagpole was less than sturdy as he climbed it but as he removed the Nazi war flag and tossed it to the cheering crowd below, the guns fell quiet. Securing the ragtag American flag, watching the breeze immediately catch and fly it high, an immense feeling of relief wash through him and after taking a moment to celebrate, he pressed his forehead to the hand-hewn timber of the pole to soak in his gratitude for making it this far. Though the ragged appearance of his country’s flag undoubtedly mirrored his own.

As he carefully climbed down the rickety pole, his eyes caught on a somewhat familiar figure running frantically through the crowd toward the gate, moving against the flow of those milling around the yard, celebrating. The man’s shouts carried intermittently on the wind across the crowd and Bucky managed to pick out “Medic,” his heartrate picking up at the word “Nurse.” His stomach dropped when the word “shot” reached his ears.

“Angelfish.” He whispered and quickly scrambled his way off the roof, wincing a little at his rough landing, before he began to shove his own way through the oblivious celebrants towards the hospital.

Skidding to a stop on the threshold of the tent, he was startled to find all the patients cowering beneath their cots while you lay on one of their abandoned beds, a bloody mess surrounded by men frantically trying to save you.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” He choked out, throat clenching painfully as your head lolled to the side, slightly unfocused eyes meeting his.

“Bucky.” Your faint whisper of his name propelled him forward, a frown settling over his features at the state of your clothes, wanting nothing more than to cover up the expanse of your abdomen and the scar on your arm – you surely hated to have that so prominently on display.

Chalmers’ sudden directive for him to manage the plasma grabbed his attention and he quickly grasped the glass bottle, holding it high as they lifted the entire bed to begin carrying you out of there.

“Just hold on, angelfish.” He rasped, heart lurching painfully as your eyes rolled back in your head, your body going slack.

Running alongside you to the gate despite the way his lungs ached, the crowd mercifully parted before their odd little group. A jeep was waiting with a stretcher strapped to the back, and Bucky watched helplessly as your unsettlingly limp form was transferred from the cot, the bottle of plasma wrenched from his fingers by the Medic before he perched atop your legs. As the vehicle took off, the Lieutenant Colonel of the armored division strode over sternly.

“How the devil did a nurse end up as a POW?” He demanded as Lieutenant Colonel Clark came to stand on Bucky’s right.

Chalmer’s sighed deeply before sharing what he knew of your story, of your arrival back in January including the fact that the Red Cross was informed through the usual process, and how you were housed separately in the hospital. As Fitzgibbons, the very same surgical technician you had earned your burns pulling out of your plane, filled in the rest of your service history, Bucky could only reflect on how little he really knew you. How short his time with you had actually amounted to be. Hell, he would not have even known your squadron number if it was not for that conversation right then.

“What a SNAFU.” The man muttered and Bucky could certainly see the resemblance of the man’s commanding officer, Patton, in him. “Well, let’s get this formal surrender over with so we can get these boys home.”

Clark nodded in return and Bucky shuffled back to sit heavily amongst the men of the 100th, waving off Brady’s look of concern. Watching the salutes and handshakes, he was completely numb, his thoughts miles away with wherever they had taken you, only able to hope against hope that their aid station was of the highest calibre.

Bucky had not resorted to prayer often throughout the war. Sure he had worn a crucifix and crossed himself reflexively when flying into a hail of flak, but conversations with higher beings had never been something he had put much stock in. Faced, now, with this gnawing feeling of helplessness, your very survival in the balance, it seemed like the only tool left at his disposal.

Crammed into the tent that night, shoulder-to-shoulder with his neighbors, he felt rusty and self-conscious as he addressed the god of his childhood Sunday school and fairly begged for you to make it. He stopped short of bargaining his own life away, but barely, before sleep overtook his aching body, the exertions of the day overtaking him.

As he found himself jostling in the back of a transport truck on his way to Paris the next day, handpicked by Lieutenant Colonel Clark to be among the first sent back to England, he could not help but feel as though he was being driven further and further away from you. It was near night by the time they pulled into the base and Bucky took his first warm shower in over a year, changing into a fresh uniform and feeling almost human. They were served white bread that might as well have been cake, with steak and eggs that were too rich for him to endure more than a few bites before he crawled into a remarkably clean bed and slept deeply, exhaustion winning out over his continuous concern for your well being.

Climbing into the belly of a B-17 for the first time in over eighteen months felt awkward and painful, the crew from the 100th consisting of unfamiliar replacements, the space feeling more cramped than it ever had as he wedged himself into the cockpit behind the pilot. The deep-seated terror he had desperately been trying to supress, his fear that Buck had not made it to safety despite their planning and the beating he had taken to distract the guards, surged to the fore of his mind. It competed ruthlessly with his anxiety over whether you were still drawing breath, the fact that he may have to face the truth of losing both of you leaving him silent and withdrawn as the plane took flight.

There was no immediate answer awaiting him at Thorpe Abbotts either, no familiar faces lining the tarmac – not even Lemmons was around, which struck him as unsettlingly odd. Making his way to the CO’s hut, his eyes at last landed on a familiar face as Herrmann emerged from one the equipment sheds.

“Hey Winks! Where is everybody? Guy comes back after a year-and-a-half and no one’s around?” He plastered on a playful smirk as the boy’s face broke out into a grin of astonishment, shaking his hand vigorously as he rushed over.

“Buck took Rosie, Douglass, Croz, and Kenny up on one of those mercy missions they’ve been practicing for, they should be back any time now, sir. Gosh it’s great to see you back here.”

Bucky’s attention immediately snagged on the first name Herrmann mentioned, finding it immensely difficult to continue listening as he exhaled half of the tension that had strangled him all the way across the English Chanel. “Good to be back, Winks. Think you can give me a lift?” He raised an eyebrow, desperate for a moment of levity.

With a quick nod, Herrmann was promptly driving him towards the control tower. The most difficult part of getting up there was making it past all the congratulatory pats and handshakes, but Bucky was able to pull off his surprise, the sound of Cleven’s voice over the radio going a long way to mending some of the deep wounds he was still sporting.

More handshakes and pats-on-the-back awaited him at the hardstand and it finally felt like he was back amongst the familiar faces of these men. He did not miss the way Cleven’s eyes were quietly scrutinizing him, however. The gratingly familiar feeling that his friend was looking right through him was undeniable as he joked and smiled with the boys who had never been imprisoned. Who had not endured the things they had. As the crowd around them thinned out, Bucky turned to watch Cleven pull out one of his toothpicks, sliding it between his molars in a familiar yet long-lost motion.

“So what you been up to since I left?” His friend asked.

Bucky swallowed and shrugged a little walking over to the jeep, Cleven immediately sliding into the passenger’s seat out of habit.

“That terrible, huh?” Cleven muttered and Bucky sighed as the vehicle roared to life.

“Ended up in Moosburg.” He started out slow, with simple facts. “Got a little hurt on the way, so Brady and Hambone took me to the hospital. Turns out there was a Nurse there, POW since January.”

The look of shock on his friend’s face registered in the corner of his eye and Bucky did not have the heart to fully face him.

“The German’s held a woman prisoner?” Cleven shook his head with a sigh of dismay.

“She got shot during the liberation, stray bullet. Medics from the armored division took her and I have no idea if she made it.” Now that he had started telling the story it all just came pouring out of him.

“You care about her more than just on moral grounds.” Cleven stated matter-of-factly and Bucky sighed as he pulled up in front of what used to be their hut.

Who knew if it still was.

“Yes.” He begrudgingly admitted, though his admission was addressed to the steering wheel.

There was a long, drawn-out silence, the incessant chirping of sparrows filling in the gap in conversation and Bucky realized he had not really heard a bird his entire time in captivity. His head snapped sharply to look at Cleven as he suddenly spoke again.

“If anyone can find someone in the chain of evacuation it’ll be Smokey.”

Bucky furrowed his brows a moment before it clicked. “Doc Stover? You think?”

Cleven shrugged. “He’s our best shot I guess.”

“Our…”

“Are you going to drive us to the hospital, or should I?”

A grin pulled at Bucky’s lips as he started the jeep back up and took a sharp U-turn, heading for the base hospital. He pretended not to notice the way his friend’s eyes lingered on the stiff movement of his body as he climbed out of the jeep – he was definitely sore but was most certainly not going to admit to it. The wards were just as populated as they had been in 1943, something he found rather infuriating. It was another feeling he tucked into a neat little package and shoved down to be ignored until a more convenient time. Or perhaps never to be acknowledged again.

Stover was easy to find, dressed in his white coat, just finishing his rounds.

“Majors, what can I do for you?” He gestured for them to follow him into his office and Bucky sank down into a chair heavily, once again ignoring another man’s assessing gaze on him.

“Well it’s an odd request really but…” He trailed off, hesitating as he smoothed his too-long hair, reflecting once again that he needed a proper haircut.

“We’re wondering if you might be able to track someone down for us. Someone who was injured at a camp in Moosburg and evacuated to an aid station.

Stover raised an eyebrow curiously. “One of your fellow POWs?”

“Something like…. well yeah, she is.” Bucky corrected himself midway through, watching the doctor’s eyebrows shoot up dramatically. “Flight Nurse from the 802nd MAES, POW at Moosburg since January of ’45, shot during liberation and taken to the aid station of Patton’s 3rd Army – armored division. Which division I don’t know.”

They watched as Stover quickly grabbed a pen and started jotting down the important details, including your name.

“How bad was she hurt?” Stover asked and Bucky swallowed tightly.

“I didn’t see it happen but there was a gunshot to her stomach somewhere. They got her on plasma quickly.” He added hopefully but Stover’s face remained grim.

“I can’t promise you anything Major Egan, it doesn’t sound particularly hopeful either, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He nodded, leveraging himself out of the chair with a barely concealed wince.

“And what do you have going on?” Stover stayed seated, eyeing him expectantly.

Bucky noticed Cleven had not budged either, the bastard. Emptying his lungs with a heavy exhale, Bucky put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

“Couple of broken ribs, I’ll be alright.” He replied nonchalantly.

“And how old are these broken ribs?” Stover prodded and Bucky ignored Cleven’s pointed look up at him.

“Couple weeks, I’m halfway mended, just overdid it getting in the fort to come back.”

Stover rose from behind his desk and opened a cabinet, fetching a bottle and holding it out to him. “Aspirin, to keep you comfortable. Take two every four hours as long as you need. Come back if you run out.”

Bucky accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks, the memory of you scrounging up two rare pills for him in the Stalag flooding back, furrowing his brows. The things you could have done in a place like this with limitless supply.

“Thanks again, Doc.” Cleven’s expression of gratitude pierced through his reminiscing and Bucky nodded quickly, tucking the pills into his pocket before heading out quietly.

Accommodations were procured and there was not much for him to do around base aside from rest and learn how to eat properly once more. It took several days for any news of your condition to reach him, via Stover’s connections, but when the man pulled him into his office on the morning of the May 5, he was stunned to learn that not only were you alive, but that you had been air evacuated to Redgrave Hospital just thirty minutes away from Thorpe Abbotts.

You were safe. You were close.

“Seems they weren’t quite certain what to do with her, but as she serves under the Army Air Force, they sent her to our main hospital.” Bucky realized Stover was still talking and he shot him a warm grin before grasping his hand to shake firmly.

“Well I really appreciate your help, Doc. I’ve gotta…” Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the door, desperate to make his way to you.

“Yeah, go…” He chuckled and shooed him out of his office.

No longer a squadron commander, Bucky technically did not have a jeep of his own to disappear with off base and so he was in the process of grabbing one of the stray bikes outside the control tower when Crosby emerged into the daylight, eyes squinting in fatigue at the brightness.

“Where are you off to Major?”

“Redgrave Hospital!” He replied brightly, watching the younger man blink.

“Sir that’s a good eleven miles, that’s a terrible idea with your ribs.”

Word seemed to have spread fast…

“Take my jeep, I’m not gonna need it today.”

“Croz, you are a lifesaver.” Bucky dropped the bike he had been wrangling to slap him on the back before diving into the jeep allotted for use by the Group Navigator. “I’ll be back!” He shouted, taking off in a spray of dust and gravel.

Turning onto the two-hundred-acre country estate, Redgrave Hospital, consisting of nearly forty Nissen huts, stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the trees and landscaped green. As he pulled up to the headquarters of the hospital, Bucky quickly realized that the staff there were not nearly as excited to see him. In fact, they were downright reluctant to allow him in to visit you, but assured him that while you were ‘heavily medicated and resting’ you were still ‘on the mend.’

While relief still permeated his system, it was a new agony to have you so very close and yet still out of his reach. If they were not going to permit him as a regular visitor, Bucky realized he was going to have to get a lot more creative in order to lay his eyes on you, and until he did, there would be not real peace.

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Moments of clarity punctured through the blackness – a blur of trees, the flurry of activity of an aid station, the masked face of a surgeon speaking to you reassuringly, the heartbreakingly familiar interior of a C-47 – but it was not until you were settled in a bed inside a hospital with four walls, windows, and nurses that true cognizance really returned to you. Casting your eyes around the sterile, white space, you noted you were situated at the end of a row and walled off from other patients with a set of privacy screens. The most striking feature of this hospital was the very stern-faced Bucky parked in a chair to the left of your bed.

As you began to stir, his eyes lifted quickly to meet yours, some of the tension easing from his frame. “Have a good rest, angelfish?” he whispered, and you furrowed your brows up at him, so full of questions. “They got you on the good stuff don’t they.” He chuckled fondly, reaching out to brush his fingertips across your cheek tenderly.

“Kick a girl when she’s down, why don’t you.” You sighed, speech slightly slurred from pain medication and the dryness in your mouth, but still capable of using his own lines against him.

His resulting grin contained all the brilliance of the sun and made you look down with a self-satisfied smirk. Your eyes immediately fell on your exposed arms laying atop the blanket, the scarring along your left forearm lain bare for all to see. Jerking your hands back roughly, you clumsily tried to shove them beneath the covers despite the warmth on the ward. Bucky’s gentle tut before his hand came to rest atop yours halted your attempt.

“Shhh, you’re just fine you brave, beautiful woman. Stay right there.” He murmured as he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm to rest above the blanket. “You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.”

Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I think I’ve acquired a few more…” You sighed, the feeling of thick bandages padding your hip acutely registering as you spoke.

“Probably.” He nodded softly. “You also probably saved that boy Hernandez by taking the bullet, so I’d say they were well earned. Besides, they’ll make an excellent target for my mouth one day.”

Your soft smile transformed into a look of disbelief, your free hand rising to whack his shoulder gently. “John Clarence Egan.” You chided half-heartedly and he pressed his face to the side of your head where it lay propped up against several pillows, his heavy exhale ruffling through your hair. “We are in a hospital, and you are making inappropriate jokes.”

“Mmmm.” He hummed in agreement, stroking his thumb against yours affectionately.

“Which hospital is this, anyway?” You asked curiously, finding its curved roof and white walls lacked distinguishing features.

“Redgrave Hospital, you serve in the Army Air Force after all.” He pulled back slightly to answer.

“Redgrave…” you repeated thoughtfully. “Sounds awfully English.”

“Hit the nail on the head, angelfish. We made it.” Bucky’s lips brushed against your temple, and you smiled softly. “Despite our best efforts.” His teasing made you laugh softly, and you shook your head.

“If we’re in England, where’s the King?” You raised an eyebrow expectantly and he smirked, shaking his head.

“No King, unfortunately, but I did bring you this?” He reached behind him, pulling out a newspaper to lay across your lap.

“Victory in Europe.” You read the headline aloud, pausing a moment as the words sunk in before gasping and looking to him wide-eyed. “Truly?”

A look of solemn earnestness overtook his features and he nodded softly. “Truly. German army surrendered yesterday.”

You gulped roughly and looked back to ready to date of May 8, 1945, on the top of the paper – you had lost nearly nine days. You really had been so close, everyone had. And the fact that you were here, and others were not seemed so very arbitrary. Sighing heavily, you squeezed his hand gently.

“By the skin of our teeth.” You murmured thickly, looking up as a nurse shuffled past with a faint nod of acknowledgement before making a sharp about-face to come and check your vitals.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked you and you nodded slowly.

“I’m alright, thank you. Bit foggy but things are the clearest they’ve been in days.”

“I’m going to fetch the Doctor.” The nurse turned to eye Bucky sharply. “You’d best make yourself scarce.” She commented before continuing on her way.

“How on earth did you get in here?” You raised an eyebrow as you came to realize how unusual his presence was.

“Bought my way in with a few bottles of champagne – your flightless comrades are quite friendly if one knows the price.”

You coughed out a laugh as the comment made Nurses sound like some species of bird and his lips twitched into a smile, your eyes unable to look away from the soft, rosy skin of his mouth.

“Hey before you go…”

“Hmmm?” He turned to you, half risen from his chair.

“I don’t have the mental capacity to think of something self-deprecating right now, so can I just get a kiss?” You murmured before pursing your lips shyly.

His face transformed into a warm smile, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners as the tips of his ears flushed pink. “I always said you just had to ask, angelfish.”

Echoing his smile, you turned your lips up expectantly as he braced his hand on the pillow beside your head, leaning in to gently brush his lips against yours, drawing a contented sigh from deep beneath your breastbone. Bucky’s lips pressed closer, a tender hum rumbling from his throat just as a sharp cough sounded from the end of the bed and he slowly pulled back with a rueful huff.

“Just checking her breathing, Doc.” Bucky grinned wolfishly as the man raised an eyebrow sharply. “She’s doing great.”

“Hn.” The doctor intoned, clearly unimpressed. “And how are your ribs doing, Major Egan?”

Inhaling sharply, you looked him over quickly, the litany of his injuries flooding back to you from your sub-conscious.

“Much better, thank you Doc. Who knew Smokey was such a gossip. Well, angelfish,” he brushed his knuckles down your cheek, “guess that’s my cue.”

Nodding slowly, wondering who on earth Smokey might be, you watched him leave before your Doctor took over, running through numerous checks with you before discussing the extent of your injury and the surgeries that had been performed to save your life. It was nothing short of remarkable, what they had thrown at you to prevent your death, the conversation a very sobering one. It would be a long road to recovery, and one, it turned out, you would mostly be taking back home in the United States.

After a week or so in Redgrave Hospital, you were deemed fit enough for transport back to the Zone of Interior for convalescence and recovery in a domestic hospital. Though the sympathetic nurses had not seen fit to permit Bucky onto the ward again, they had taken a shakily written note, the loss of strength you had suffered in just over a week was startling, and promised to deliver it to him. The trip via Prestwick to Greenland, then Newfoundland, and ultimately Grenier Field in New Hampshire felt luxurious on the much more spacious C-54. You were admitted to the Station Hospital there to continue your recovery and rehabilitation, enjoying phone calls with your family instead of delayed correspondence for a change.

It took two months for you to be fully back on your feet, back to yourself. The same amount of time, it seemed, for the 100th bomb group to be repatriated stateside. Freshly discharged and clad in a brand-new olive drab dress uniform, proudly bearing your silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia following your promotion and the ribbons from your two purple hearts, you had sweet-talked your way back onto the base. One of the more sympathetic MPs who had heard your story – admittedly there were few in New Hampshire who had not heard your story at this point – had not even protested your request. It seemed that fate saw fit to land Major John Egan in your life a second time, with Grenier Field the destination for his bomb group on their return flight.

Standing in the warm summer breeze, watching the sky for the silhouettes of their planes, it honestly felt odd to be wearing a skirt. The complexity of affixing your stockings to the straps of your garter belt had briefly made you long for the convenience of slacks, but with your properly cut and styled hair and feminine clothing you felt like an entirely new woman as you stood outside on the grass with the ground crew. Would Bucky even recognize you?

At last the distant droning of aircraft engines reached your, and everyone around you’s, ears, the shapes of B-17s multiplying on the horizon before they began to circle in for a landing. Honestly, there were so many of them you briefly doubted you would be able to find him with any manner of efficiency. Clamping a hand over your officer’s cap to hold it in place as a plane taxied onto a nearby hardstand, your eyes began to scan the crowd of men as they filtered past, surely headed for the mess hall or officer’s club. Catch a glimpse of those unmistakable ears, you stepped forward and called out to him.

“John Clarence Egan!”

His head whipped around so fast he nearly took out the man walking beside him.

“Do I really look so different in a skirt that you would walk right by me?” You teased fondly.

“Angelfish!”

His flight bag hit the asphalt with a sickening ‘crunch’ that had you worried for its contents, but the impact of his body against yours drove that thought quickly from your mind. Wrenching his cap from his head he tilted his face to nestle beneath the brim of yours and kiss you soundly. Distantly, you were aware of all manner of cheers and wolf-whistles from his comrades, but you were too busy clutching at his shoulders to truly mind.

“How did you-? What are you-? God, it’s good to see you.” He rambled before pressing his mouth against yours firmly, not even giving you the opportunity to reply.

Laughing brightly into the kiss, you became vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps approaching much nearer and pulled back slowly, smiling fondly as Bucky’s lips made as if to chase yours, but his friend’s question interrupted him.

“You gonna introduce us, John?” A tall blond man with striking blue eyes and a pair of unsettlingly symmetrical facial scars asked sardonically.

Bucky cleared his throat and stepped back, though you noted his arm slid around your waist in a rather proprietary move. You found you did not mind in the least, particularly as your fully healed wound gave no protest of pain whatsoever.

“Angelfish, this Gale Cleven – call him Buck, Robert Rosenthal – Rosie, and Harry Crosby – Croz.” He followed up by introducing you by your full name.

“He give you that nickname, too?” The one he told you to call ‘Buck’ raised an eyebrow and you laughed.

“It’s a long story….”

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

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel, @jointherebellion215, @timetowastetime8, @mads-weasley

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #major john egan x reader #john egan x you #john egan fic #john egan imagine #john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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sebbyisland · 9 months

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This is a weird question but you have good vibes so do you know any good shoujos for beginners? If you dont then just delete this lol

OH this is the best question i have ever received! Thank you! I hope this can be a helpful resource for you or anyone else interested in getting into shojo!!!

I’m gonna define “Good Beginner Shojo” as stories with an interesting premise, strong narrative(? this is VERY subjective sorry?), and also lacks some of the more squicky/uncomfortable tropes: predatory romantic relationships, borderline sexual assault as flirting, or incest**. This list is split between short and long series. I’ll also try to keep the genres diverse! These are all stories I’ve personally read/watched and are popular enough that they’ve been officially translated in different languages.

Good Shojo for Beginners, Short Term Investment

Princess Tutu: A dark fairy-tale-esque anime about a young girl who studies ballet in the day and fights demons at night using ballet + emotional intelligence. The deeper plot is that the entire cast are treated like puppets by a grand and elusive storymaster, and they all must struggle to escape being doomed by the narrative. There’s a lot of references to Swan Lake, the girl keeps getting turned into a duck, many emotions are felt. Complete, one anime season.

From Me to You: shy young girl is a social outcast due to misunderstandings that blew out of proportion. She receives an olive branch from a boy in her class and this gives her the confidence to start making friends and support herself!! The aforementioned boy is also her love interest and is endearingly too flustered to make a move. high school drama ensues. Two anime seasons, manga complete ~120 chapters.

Magic Knight Rayearth: three girls get transported to a fantasy world and have to learn to work together in giant magic mecha suits order to rescue a trapped princess + save the world. They make friends along the way as they try to fight monsters. One anime season, manga complete ~30 chapters.

Kase-san: sapphic high school romance with a jock girl and gardener girl who plants flowers near her practice field… they are both kinda shy and build up confidence as their bond gets deeper. it’s just 100% fluff. anime OVA and complete manga, ~15 chapters, there's also a sequel-series though

Library Wars: what it says on the tin. militant librarians fight the government to stop book censorship. the story follows a soldier in training: a reckless young woman who dreams of meeting the "prince" who inspired her to take up arms to protect books. this is more of an action-comedy than a political drama, so don't expect too much from the plot, but it's fun to watch our failgirl get put into situations. one anime season, 73 chapter manga, live action movie. you'll be okay just watching the anime but obvi the manga expands more on the characters + world building.

Orange: high school girl receives letters from her future self that tell her that a boy from her friend group is planning on committing suicide. She works with her friends to prevent this from happening, but things are definitely more complicated than they seem. An emotional drama, discussion of mental health including depression and suicidal thoughts. It’s a really heartfelt series. One anime season, ~38 chapter manga. (originally published in a shoujo magazine, then switched to seinen probably for marketing reasons.*)

In the Clear Moonlit Dusk: Masculine studious girl feels distant from her classmates who idolize her as a “prince,” but then she catches the attention of the local sparkly bad boy “prince.” An innocent, fluffy high school romance about a prince and her prince. SO many sparkly anime eyes, if that's you're thing. It’s a simple plot, but I enjoy the execution a lot. Ongoing, currently ~27 chapters

Tokyo Mew Mew: Captain Planet but magical girl. group of teen girls get accidentally infused with the DNA of endangered animal species + magic and transform into a hero squad to fight aliens trying to destroy earth's resources! Their cover for their secret headquarters is a maid café, where they all work part time. Manga complete ~30 chapters, anime adaption complete + one season of anime reboot.

Good Shojo for Beginners, Long Term Investment

Yona of the Dawn: historic fantasy setting, coming of age for a naive young princess who grows into a capable leader by abandoning her sheltered life within palace walls for…plot reasons (major spoiler in 1st chapter LOL). there’s a slow but thorough exploration of the political issues in her kingdom, i would say the world-building is an unexpected strength of the story. She’s supported by her hot magical anime boy harem, but the story emphasizes found family dynamics over the romcom. there’s still a primary love interest established early on, it’s just VERY slow burn. one anime season, manga ongoing 300+ chapters

Kageki Shojo!!: Follow the adventures of an all-girls vocational school to train to become members of the historic Kouka all-girls musical theater troupe, where women play roles for all genders. The protagonist is a girl who grew up watching Kouka performances and never lost her sense of childlike wonder. Theater doesn’t come naturally for her, but she’s also very talented. Fun cast, lightly discusses social issues as they come up with sincerity and care. Very reminiscent of 80s shojo. One anime season, Ongoing manga 90+ chapters

My Love Mix-Up! what if there was an ACTUAL high school love triangle. boy likes girl who likes a different boy, but that boy is interested in the aforementioned boy. what if this was all a misunderstanding and actually boy and girl like the same boy. what if that was also a misunderstanding. have you ever been a dumbass high school student trying your best. protagonist is bi king. 120~ chapters, no anime, but a live action show.

Ouran High School Host Club: ah yes a classic romcom. girl gets a scholarship to an elite high school and accidentally falls into debt on her first day to the school host club (boys who professionally flirt with girls during lunch). To pay off her debt, she pretends to be a guy at school so she can work as a host. The comedy is a blend of making fun of shojo tropes and the disaster personalities that make up the supporting cast. it's funnier the more shojo you have read/watched before this one. one anime season, 200+ chapters, complete

BL Metamorphosis: elderly widow accidentally reads a BL manga and gets invested, she bonds with a high school girl who works at the bookstore about it. Very cute parallels between her late husband and the fictional love story. Depicts fandom culture without normalizing the creepy and invasive BL fan behavior. Reminds me a lot of spending time with my grandma, which makes me want to cry.~90 chapters.

Sailor Moon: I know i know everyone is going to tell you this but it's actually a classic for a reason. (Sapphic!!!) magical girls traveling across space and time? Fighting evil with the power of friendship and love? Cute character designs? It's a good time. Protagonist is a total brat (normal 14yr old!!!!) AND a good hero. I'm putting this last because I wanted the other stories to have a chance, but it's honestly so good like please. There technically an inappropriate age gap relationship but it's like the disney movie Tangled where you don't realize it until you literally look up their ages. 150+ chapters, complete.

**When I first read shojo, I was a very young child, basically the target audience, but there are things I read as a child that would make me feel a bit disgusted to read now. Knowing this, I want people who are new to shojo to make informed decisions. There are problematic tropes present in MANY well loved stories--and they are well-loved for a reason!!! These complexities are part of reading and enjoying fiction. I've excluded some of my all-time favorite stories from my childhood thanks to the criteria I set as good "beginner" shojo--but I also don't want to contribute to a world that divides stories as "problematic" and "unproblematic" as if such a binary exists. Ultimately, this list is just based on my PERSONAL taste, what I deem more comfortable to read than other stories, so I can't guarantee that you'll have the same experience. I can't even promise I would have the same experience re-reading some of these, since the stuff that made me comfortable/uncomfortable in the past has changed in the present. It's all very subjective. That's why I'm intentionally specific about the tropes I've excluded. Note that this doesn't mean the stories listed are not littered with their own flaws. I hope this disclaimer didn't seem too excessive, haha.

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the-froschamethyst4 · 10 months

Text

Knight in Shining Black Armor

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fantasy, fairy tale, p n v, language, overstimulating, praising, rough sex, pussy playing, eating out, semi-fingering, Knight Ghost and Princess Y/n

Princess Y/n is stuck in a tower waiting for her Knight in shining armor to come and save her

The Knight who does will get to marry the lovely Princess and many Knights have tried

That is until one man manages to kill the dragon that was protecting Y/n and he gets to marry her

——————

———————

Like every day. Princess Y/n looks out of her tower looking at the sun come up, she was always up before dawn, she wanted to get up early in case her Prince or Knight shows up to rescue her.

As she watched the sun come up she also heard the loud dragon below her roar to let his presents known. Y/n ducked into her room as she watched the dragon fly pass her window and fly around her tower.

“Stupid dragon,” she mumbled.

Y/n pulled back a purple velvet cover showing off a painting she’s been doing since she’s been stuck in this hell hole.

She gathered all her paints and started to mix her paints for a perfect green and blue. It was a landscape of the area that surrounded her tower.

She put her paintbrush is her mouth so she could put her long hair into a high ponytail. She took the paintbrush out of her mouth and dipped it in her paints ready to paint the landscape.

———————

“Hey Ghost,” Soap a Knight said. He came trotting next to Ghost on his horse.

“What,” Ghost groaned.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“With you, fuck no,” Ghost said as he trotting his horse to the gate of the castle.

“Come on, Ghost. It’s a simple bet.”

“No, Soap.”

“Come on, don’t you wanna know you might win?”

“I know what I’ll win, marriage with the Princess.”

“If we find her,” Captain Price the head Knight interrupted the two bickering Knights. “And remind you, it’s who finds her first, so I could find her, Soap could find her and you Ghost could her, anyone can marry her,” Price rolled her eyes.

“Men…find my daughter and…good luck…you have a month,” The King released the Knights and they all took off into the Dark Forest to look for Princess Y/n.

———————

“Hmmmm~? It needs…” Y/n tapped her chin with her painted hand thinking about what she is missing in the painting. It still wasn’t completed or anything, it just feels like something off.

She stepped to her window seeing that she should be in the painting. She looked back and was trying to see how to incorporate herself into it.

She stepped close to it and started the outline of her piece.

——————

The Knights all split up to look for the Princess. Ghost and his horse were far West away from everyone, he knew some will not even come this way to look for her.

He was getting hot and started to look for a spot to get water for them to drink and for them to swim in just a little bit.

He soon found a spot and let his horse drink from the lake and Ghost splashed his face to cool himself up. He removed his armor on his arms and splashed his arms as well.

ROAR

The loud roar of the dragon guarding the Princess startled both Ghost and his horse. His horse ran away leaving Ghost to now fend for himself to look for the Princess.

“Great…now this is going to take me forever,” Ghost groaned as he put his armor back on.

“But at least…I’m close…” he mumbled to himself as he moved forward and got his sword ready for anything and to cut tree limbs, overgrown bushes and leaves.

——————

Y/n let out a bored yawn after doing her outline. The dragon did startle her with the loud roaring but she was use to it.

The dragon rested on a large rock next to the lake. Y/n hasn’t left the tower since she was 12 years old before she was placed here.

She sat in her window bored, rolling her paintbrush between her fingers tips. She knew she was a mess with paint all over her body.

She jumped from her windowseal and went to her bathroom and ran a hot shower. She removed her dirty clothes and got in the shower, she let out a soft moan as the hot water hit her skin.

She ran her hands down her body till they reached her clit. She gently rubbed and pushed 2 fingers inside of herself. She stumbled to her shower wall and leaned against it to keep herself stabled, she kept moving her fingers in and out of her quickly. She loved the feeling of do it herself, but she would like if someone else...did it to her.

She felt her body feel that knot in the stomach, she felt herself leak onto her fingers, but she didn't stop she pushed a third finger in, she moaned at the top of her lungs when she was able to fit three fingers in, usually she can only do two and give up afterwards.

Y/n kept pushing her fingers in and out quickly, her hands clenched into a fist as that same knot feeling was in her stomach and she came again. She pulled them out and felt the white liquid leak down both of her legs.

"Hmmm~ god..." she mumbled as she started to clean herself up.

--------

Ghost felt lost. He felt like he's been going in circles, he's pretty sure he might have gone passed the same tree 4 different times. How he knows is because he marked it and went on ahead and saw it again.

He placed his hands through his hair and leaned against a wall covered in vines and branches. He wiped his sweaty forehead but before he was about to stand up, he fell through the wall.

"Ah! What the fuck?" Ghost groaned, rubbing his head and looking back to see where he was now. He stood up quickly and walked farther into what seemed some...beautiful area (Ever seen Rapunzel? Where her tower is, that's what I'm talking about).

Flowers covered the ground, some tall green grass, a large lake with a waterfall falling from the huge rocks and...a tower. Ghost looked up the tower seeing how tall it was.

"I found her..." he mumbled to himself.

Huff...Huff...Huff...Huff...

Ghost slowly turned and saw the dragon peacefully sleeping right behind him. The dragon didn't realize that there was a Knight here to save the Princess.

Y/n wrapped a towel around her waist and soon dropped it to put on one of her dresses. She now walked around her tower to do something else. She grabbed a book and went by her window ready to read.

"No one will ever come..." she whispered to herself. She saw the dragon sleeping and some of the tall green moving.

"Huh? What the hell, is that?" Y/n asked herself. She couldn't see if it was a person or a really big animal. She watched the grass move and soon someone stood up.

Her jaw dropped and ducked into the tower. "Please don't wake up dragon, please don't, please don't, please don't," Y/n repeated.

Y/n was looking for something to help the Knight get up the tower with no problem.

"Come on, there has to be rope somewhere," she said, looking around.

Ghost was being sneaky and trying to not wake the giant dragon. Ghost stood up in the green, he was almost there to the tower, he continued walking to the tower trying not to step on sticks.

He looked up at the tower and he touched the brick thinking he might be dreaming about the tower being right in front of him.

"I...I did it..." Ghost whispered to himself; question is how is he going to get up there without the dragon hearing him. He placed his fingers in the crooks of the brick and tried to pull himself up, but his armor was weighing himself down.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Come on, Ghost think..." He looked up the tower seeing the wooden window, he grabbed his bow, his rope and an arrow.

He tied the rope to the arrow; he placed the arrow in the bow ready to fire. He shot up (don't ever do that btw) to the wood, he shot it up and waited for it to stick in the wood.

Y/n heard the thud from the arrow landing in the wood of the window, she looked and saw it was him.

Ghost pulled on the arrow to make sure it was in the wood, he jumped on the rope and pulled himself up.

"What do I do?" Y/n asked herself. She went to her room and just waited till she could hear him inside the tower.

"Almost there Princess," Ghost grumbles as he went up.

Y/n played with her fingers thinking what to do, what to say, what to tell him. She just waited, she heard him at the window huffing and puffing from the climb.

"Jeez, am I that out of shape?" Ghost asked himself. He looked around the room trying to find Princess Y/n.

"How did you get pass the dragon, Knight?" Y/n came out of her room, standing at the top of the staircase looking down at Ghost. Ghost's jaw dropped looking at the beautiful Princess. Ghost fell on his right knee, hand on his heart.

"I am glad, I have found you, my Princess. Your father had sent me and a team to find you, he gave us a month to find you and I have found you on my own. I did not slay the dragon, the dragon is asleep and has not noticed me here, either. I was trained to be the quietest Knight and I was, and I have found you, my Princess." Ghost looked up at the Princess.

"I see...now...Knight-"

"Please, Princess, call me Ghost."

"Ghost alright. What do we do now?"

"I marry you, Princess," Ghost said, he stood up and watched the Princess walk down the stairs till she got to him. She smiled up at Ghost. She placed her hands on his chest, she touched his shiny black armor.

"Okay...please, take me to my father."

"I will, Princess...but...first." Ghost placed his hands on her cheeks pulling her face close and kissed her lips so carefully and gently. His eyes were closed, and Y/n just melted into his touch.

"Princess...shall I...make you feel good?" Ghost asked.

"How?" She asked. She was so innocent (besides the touching herself earlier). Ghost smirked and licked the corner of his mouth with a smirk on his face as well.

Ghost picked Y/n up, pushing her against the wall of her tower, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck as well. His lips landed on hers again, her hand ran through his blonde hair.

His tongue pushed its way into her mouth, she lightly moaned into his mouth, his hands roamed from her thighs to her butt, gently squeezing it making her moan too.

Ghost then started to walk to the Y/n's bedroom, he pulled away from her to watch where he was going, Y/n looked over his shoulder nervous, what does she do?

Ghost dropped Y/n on her bed, Ghost started to take his armor off, and Y/n tried to remove her dress, but Ghost did it by pulling the fabric ripping it.

"Jeez..."

"What?"

"You look...beautiful..." he said, kissing her neck. Y/n's hands went up from his neck into his hair. His lips then led up to her lips. Ghost stood up and looked down at his dick close to her clit.

She was breathing heavy watching Ghost slowly move down. His face right in front of her clit. She was starting to get nervous. He licked his lips and kissed her inner thigh; she moaned loving his lips on her.

Ghost then kissed her lips, his tongue licked in between her folds. He smirked and flicked his tongue against her lips. She covered her mouth and moaned into her hand, but she soon moved it and grabbed Ghost's hair.

Ghost then pushed his middle and ring finger inside of her clit, he moved them in and out fast and his tongue flicking between her folds.

"AHHH! AHHH!" She moaned, covering her mouth. His mouth soon pulled away and he just shoved his fingers in and out. "H-Holy," Y/n moaned.

He pulled his fingers out and watched how her body looked like it deflated. Her back was arched but now was against the mattress of the bed. Ghost smirked and then smacked Y/n's pussy lightly with his palm.

"AH!" Y/n moaned. He did it over and over earning those soft light moans from Y/n's voice.

"AH! AH! P-Please...don't...s-stopAH!" She moaned making him smirk.

Ghost shoved his fingers back inside and by distracting Y/n he pushed his dick inside of her clit. He started to thrust and soon pulled his fingers out; he licked them clean and placed his hands on the mattress next to Y/n's head.

"Ahhh~ ahhh~ G-Ghost..."

Ghost looked down at him and smirked, he bent down and kissed her neck then her lips, her hands cupped his face deepening the kiss. His hand grabbed her chin controlling her how to kiss properly.

"I-I'm s-sorry."

"Why?" He said as he thrusted.

"B-BecauseAHH! I d-don't know...h-how to...k-kiss."

"Don't worry about that, Princess...you're doing amazing..." Ghost panted. "Holy fuck...you are amazing," he repeated to her.

Y/n wanted this, she wanted her Knight or Prince to treat her right and that is what Ghost was doing, he was being gentle but would pick up the pace at certain times.

Y/n liked the roughness and Ghost could tell, so Ghost went with that, he stayed at a fast and rough pace. He loved the expression on her face and loved hearing the moans from the Princess.

"G-Ghost."

"I know, Princess, I know, come on, come on, come on," he repeated, she felt the knot in her stomach and felt herself cum. Ghost pulled out and watched himself pump onto her stomach.

"Holy fuck," Ghost said. Y/n gripped the bedsheet, her hair a mess and she had cum on her legs and stomach. Ghost just smirked looking down at her.

"I can't believe...that I'll be married to a beautiful Princess," Ghost cupped her face and kissed her lips.

"And I can't believe, I'll be with someone who loves me," she smiled.

--------

Night rolled around and Ghost was stuck in the tower with Princess Y/n. Y/n was asleep next to him, both of their bodies naked and covered with a sheet from her bed.

Ghost moved a piece of her hair from her face and kissed her soft lips. She stirred in her sleep and Ghost watched her ready for her to open her eyes, but she stayed asleep.

"You look amazing, you were amazing, and...I can't wait to love you for the rest of my life," Ghost mumbled against her temple and kissed her before going to sleep.

--------

The next morning, Ghost and Y/n were trying to leave but the dragon was the only obstacle in their way.

"DRAGON! HERE BOY!" Y/n called him like a dog, and he landed on the tower, shaking the tower and Y/n and Ghost tried to keep balance.

"Woah!" Y/n said as they tried to stay stable. "Okay, okay, calm down, listen boy, I need you to take me and Knight Ghost back to my Kingdom to see my father."

The dragon just titled his head and looked passed Y/n to see Ghost. The dragon's face was not entertained that a Knight got passed him.

"Come on, I know. Come on, help us out, please?" Y/n said.

The dragon just looked like he rolled his eyes and let Princess Y/n and Ghost get on hm and fly them to the Kingdom.

"THIS IS CRZY PRINCESS!!" Ghost yelled.

"YEAH, BUT I'M FINALLY FREE FROM THAT TOWER!!" Y/n yelled back. "WOOOOOOHOOOOOO~!" Y/n shouted.

"I'M GONNA DIE FROM FLIGHT!!" Ghost yelled as Y/n laughed.

The Kingdom was up ahead, and Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat nervous to face her father after 20 years. Ghost could tell she was nervous, his hand landed on her shoulder.

"It's okay, if anything happens...we could...make our own life in the tower far from everyone and you'll get to leave that place whenever you want," Ghost tried to make it sound more like a paradise than it actually was.

"Thank you, Ghost."

"Of course," The dragon landed in the middle of the castles garden, everyone in the castle came out to see the dragon and Ghost and Princess Y/n.

The King came out and saw his daughter and one of his best Knights arrive at the Kingdom. He smirked seeing his daughter after so long.

"My daughter," he says with his arms out and wanting a hug from his daughter. Y/n didn't hug him, her arms down by her side scared if she did hug him what might happen.

Ghost saw this and once the King was done hugging his daughter, Ghosts hand rested on her waist.

"Good job, Ghost for bring back my daughter to the Kingdom, now...the wedding, you've earned your right to marry my daughter, now...when would like to do the celebration?"

How not a 'how's my daughter?' 'I've missed you.' Nothing just 'when can I marry you off already.'

Y/n looked up at Ghost, he looked down at her and just gave her a small smile.

"We don't want a big celebration, we want to go back and live our life at that tower, she'll be under my watchful eye, she'll get to the tower when she wants to and will be taken care of by me...since...her father just thought she should be locked away for 20 years miserable, well...I will marry her but only for us to live away from this Kingdom and away from you...are terrible father and terrible King," Ghost spat.

The King was shocked by Ghost's sudden burst.

"You do not get to disrespect me."

"I can and I will," Ghost said as they got back on the dragon. The dragon took off heading back to the tower. Y/n felt hot tears in her eyes, she sniffled, and Ghost held her close to his body.

"I am so sorry, my Princess, that he would do that to you, his ONLY daughter, what a prick," Ghost grumbled.

"I-It's okay, G-Ghost...I just...wanna go home."

Never did Y/n think she'll ever call that tower home...but that's where she feels safe, is that place, it being protected by the dragon and her having wait for her lover, but now she gets to be with her lover.

#cod modern warfare #ghost cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #fanfic #fantasy #fandom

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dapper-hydra · 5 months

Text

I rrrrrrreeeeaaalllllyyyy need marvel to mess around with the whole humans are deathworlders thing cause so far the aliens we got in the MCU are:

Skrulls

Chitauri

Titans (Thanos)

Kree

Asgardians & the other Nine Realms (Frost Giants, etc.)

and then some other things that have less representation but still there:

Gamora

Groot

Drax

Yondu

Howard the Duck???

but anyways, as far as the Chitauri, Skrulls, and Kree (and also Thanos’ children), humans are far less technologically advanced; the Chitauri are controlled from a mothership, which as bad strategy as it is, it’s still a lot more advanced than the tech on Earth. Humans are also looked down upon by everyone from Thanos to Loki to the Kree. Skrulls are shapeshifters, need I say more. The Asgardians are literally gods with magic powers that live for thousands of years and have enhanced strength. Ebony Maw can do neat magic with his hands, and he also has those funky needles that he was poking at Strange with in Infinity War. But I want to see another alien species in the MCU where the characters realize that they are afraid of humans; but not because of tales of the Avengers or Captain Marvel or because the humans are protected by the Gods of Asgard. They’re afraid of humans because it’s built in, because the humans are apex predators. Or maybe the aliens slowly realize that they should fear the humans, once they see the pack bonding and the incredible stamina, and the weird sixth sense of feeling when someone’s watching you. Idk I just think that would be really neat

#mcu #marvel #captain marvel #avengers infinity war #the avengers #gods of asgard #guardians of the galaxy #avengers endgame #secret invasion #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans in space #humans are space oddities

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smokeys-house · 4 months

Text

⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

💫 sequel to TCKD 💫

⭐️ Art by @miranagi, writing by @smokeys-house ⭐️

The Cane King's Daughter: A Story for Another Time

"Ah, Miss Puukko, I thought I'd find you here!" Moominpapa arrived through the kitchen door of Moominhouse, finding his wife and an old friend cooking in tandem for the evening's dinner to come. "The children said they saw you coming down the mountain not too long ago. It's been a while since your last visit!" He smiled, dusting off his hat before placing it right back atop his head. He looked as though he'd been in a hurry to get here.

"Aye, that it has." Puukko was squinting as she struggled to dice vegetables, the counter was quite low for her, and the kitchen quite small. She ducked underneath the stove's hood in order to add them to the pot. She wasn't terribly large, but she'd gotten quite used to living in a house her own size. She was happy to help, albeit much happier when the help was getting something down from up high.

Moominmama chuckled softly at the sight of the large moomin stooping in her kitchen. "Why don't you help papa set the table? I can finish up in here." The pair left Moominmama to her cooking as they brought dishes and silverware into the dining area. Moominhouse was calm, quiet, and now filled with the aroma of a nearly ready home cooked meal.

"Miss Puukko, forgive my er, uh, impatience, but uh, I do believe last time you were here you had said you had a story for another time." Papa began organizing each table setting.

"Aye. I believe I did."

"And it would appear, er, uh… that it is another time. Isn't that right?"

"Hmm… I'm thinkin' ye might be right. Can't be sure. Now what was it?" She playfully rested her snout in her hand with her arm crossed beneath it, striking as contemplative a pose as she could muster.

"I believe you were telling us about how you got caught. After Marion had joined your crew." Mama said, entering with a steaming tureen of stew, and setting it upon a potholder on the table.

Puukko eyed the other table settings. "I'm afraid that one's a bit impolite. Mightn't be good fer the young ones."

"The children are out camping this evening, I've just seen them off before arriving." Papa said, taking his seat. "They won't be back for at least another two days, if the weather holds."

"Then why'd we set the whole table and cook all that extra stew?" Puukko asked.

"It'll be nice in case they come back early. If they get rained out I'm sure they'll want some stew to warm them up." Mama smiled as she sat at the head of the table adjacent to her husband.

"I see… It's still not the nicest o' stories I fear. I think it can wait fer after dinner at least." Her reticence was apparent, as she idly fiddled with her utensils. She was seated across from Moominpapa, next to Moominmama.

"Nonsense, go right on ahead! No need to spare us the details, we're all adults here." Papa said. He was eager to hear the rest of the story, his repeated encouragements were evidence of that enough.

"Well… I s'pose ye earned it after sittin' through the first part. Ye know where it all started, but some time after that…"

–

Years had passed since Captain Whetstone had become legend in Marseille. Stories and songs alike featured a fearsome and dashing rogue doubly wounding a wealthy rum purveyor. The Cane King, as he'd taken to calling himself, had grown rather fond of his reputation after thoroughly scrubbing it of any misgivings. Each version of the tale was told a bit differently, but Jules Cartier, the man himself, was eager to remind the public of his own sanitized version.

There was always a pirate by the name of Whetstone. She was often depicted as devilishly handsome, and highly capable. Just as often, though counter to the first, she was depicted as monstrous, or drunk and oafish. Regardless, one thing was certain: she'd steal off with the Cane King's daughter. The fight that occurred at Cartier Manor was witnessed by many, though few spread the truth of Jules' cowardly actions following his defeat in the duel that day.

In the time since, Captain Whetstone and her now first mate; Marion Cartier, had plundered many ships associated with the Cartier family business. If there was a crate with the Cane King's face on it, the crew of The Honeyed Word was not far behind. Despite this brazen and rampant piracy, the age of swashbuckling sailors seemed near an end. Those that still engaged in the splendors of piratical adventure hung their hats in Nassau, living a free life off stolen coin. Legends had risen and fallen just like the waves they'd sailed upon, and yet few remained afloat.

"Cocoa?" A fillyjonk woman with a soft voice knocked at the door of the Captain's cabin. She entered just after.

"Ah, no thanks. I'm afraid it doesn't mix well with pipesmoke." Captain Whetstone replied from her seat at her desk.

"No, I mean as in the last bit of your name. Ko-Ko. It's cute. It makes for a good nickname." Marion was, as always, earnest to a fault. "I've just seen the quartermaster, he and I feel we've taken on all we can for the time being. That last haul was a big one!"

"Aye…" Whetstone said, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Don't ye be callin' me that where the crew can hear, lass. Not but one knows me by Puukko these days. And that'd be you."

"But Whetstone's no fun for nicknames, cap!" Marion teased. She never seemed freer than when dressed for a day's work aboard a ship. Despite having her life upended all those years ago, it seemed she'd finally found where she belonged. She'd long since abandoned her garish trappings, finding herself far more comfortable in clothes fit for salted air.

"Nassau." The captain stood from her chair, smoke gently drifting from atop her pipe. "That's why we're sailin' fer Nassau. Dump the lot on the usual friendly faces." Her voice had grown raspy and deep over the years, but not without charm. She approached Marion, casually resting her paw upon her lover's cheek as she cleared the hair from her face. She took a moment to look into her eyes. Sapphire blue, and bright like stars. For all the time she'd been hardened as a pirate, she'd thought nothing could make her feel quite so soft again.

"Captain?" Marion stood awkwardly, blushing brighter with each passing moment. She beheld the captain's face, rugged, yet kind. Jules had given her quite the scar, a large streak bereft of fur stretched across her left eye.

"Marion.. I been doin' some thinkin'. Ye been talkin' of want fer t' see the world, and I been thinkin'... maybe I could be the one t' show it to you." She hesitated a moment, searching for the right words. "Whaddaya say after we clear the haul, you n' I find somewhere’s quiet fer a while. We could be t-"

"Crosstrees, captain!" Shouts erupted from the top deck. "Nigh on in range!"

Captain Whetstone tensed, balling her fists. Both her and Marion made for the top deck. Whetstone retrieved her spyglass, extending it to view a ship fast approaching.

"Pirate hunters." She said, laden with disdain. "I know this lot. Spanish privateers." She collapsed the telescope, turning to face the crew. "Full sail! Catch as much wind as she's able! We make fer Nassau!"

The crew got to work with haste. Every member of the crew knew exactly what they were to do, and did it fast.

"More and more of them these days, it seems." Marion said with a sigh, taking up a position near her moomin companion. "Do you think there'll be anyone taking patrol up near Nassau?"

"I'm countin' on it. Maybe a ship 'er two out 'n about. If not, well… it'll be fireworks fer the lot of 'em if they end up close enough to that ship old Hornigold beached."

"They ought to know better than to sail into these waters. They're getting bolder."

"I fear ye might be right." The captain took up the helm, stern and stalwart. The wind was fast and favorable, and The Honeyed Word took to it, sailing fast as she could. Several loud thumps forced their way through the humid air as smoke billowed like rain clouds from the gunports of the hunter ship, sending cannonballs hurtling toward their target.

"Git down!" Whetstone shouted a warning to all that could hear. Everybody laid still on the deck, covering their heads. Within seconds the sea was shattered into fine mist against the shot, narrowly missing the hull.

"No hits captain! Just out of range!" One of the crewmembers came up from the gundeck.

"Prepare to return fire, but hold! We're makin' a run fer it! Man the rear swivels!"

The hunter ship closed in on the port side, narrowing the time left for an escape. They fired another volley. Cannon after cannon fired near in unison, the majority just barely missing their target. Wood splintered violently as the iron round shot disrupted its shape, tearing through railings and walls above the waterline of Whetstone's ship.

"Booble's beard! I think she means t' board us!" The captain shouted as she got back to her feet once more. "Give 'er all we got, lads!" The crew fired on the hunter ship as it came within range, blasting the hull in several places.

"Good hits, Cap'n! But she's still on us!" A young man from the gundeck shouted.

The Spanish ship was gaining on them, and the Honeyed Word's cannons would not be ready for another volley until after the privateers had time to close in for a broadside. Whetstone's crew rushed to load their cannons as fast as they could, while others scrambled to get to their weapons and prepared to be boarded. The two ships were rapidly approaching the waters near Nassau, both focused on one another rather than their course. The hunter ship began firing grappling lines in high arcs in an attempt to catch the railings of their quarry.

Pff! Pff! Pff! BOOM!

The comparatively lesser blasts of the boarding guns were interrupted by the sound of over fifty cannons firing almost simultaneously. Captain Whetstone watched in awe as the ship that was just chasing her was sundered in a matter of seconds. The ship was there one moment, and then in its place lie only flotsam. The grappling lines that hung from the railing went limp, falling into the sea. Everything was for a moment, silent, save for the rolling of waves beneath. They hadn't gotten within range of Hornigold's safety measures, and yet their attackers were dealt with all the same. She looked ahead, utterly confused to see a Man O' War of the king's navy anchored just outside what she had known to be the haven of all pirates.

"Strike the colors, boys!" The captain shouted in disbelief. She looked around and took in the scene. "Hoist the white flag. This ain't a surrender, but I'll be damned if we get blasted t' smithereens like those fellers did."

The crew sailed slow to their destination, and were not fired upon. The Man O' War was too big to slip between the sandbars and would run aground if it sailed any closer. The Honeyed Word anchored a careful distance from shore further in than the hulking giant of a ship that had nearly shot them down. Several of the King's smaller ships were anchored nearby and otherwise sailing the area, but none of his men were seen immediately ashore save for a party of three now discussing something with a pirate down on the beach.

"Marion, I think it likely fer the best if you and the crew stay aboard fer the moment. We might be in an awful hurry t' get outta here afore ye be knowin' it." Whetstone eyed the conversation through her spyglass. The tension was high and visible in all those involved, but had yet to boil over.

"What are you planning on doing?" Marion asked.

The captain checked one of the pistols in her brace before tucking it right back in. "Just gon' ask a few questions is all. I'll be back before supper, worry ye no'."

"Just be careful. Ruth won't be here to save you like in Marseille."

"There ye'd be right, but there ought t' be at least a few dozen what sail a black flag still ashore. Can't 'ave all been shot down on the way in." She shrugged.

A short while later, the captain had arrived on shore as the tender her crew had brought her in on made its way back to the ship. The conversation she witnessed had come to its conclusion seemingly without a fight. She wandered into Nassau proper, aiming to avoid the eyes of the King's men. The veritable shanty town that encapsulated and surrounded the proper buildings of Nassau were usually alive with scores of merchants and merry-makers, instead they were filled with a tentative silence. Great change was coming, and its harbinger was anchored just on the horizon.

Canvas covered tents and makeshift shacks led onward into the heart of town, and it remained just as quiet. Captain Whetstone trod what once felt a familiar path in caution, an uneasy feeling in her gut as she took in the emptiness.

"If yer here fer nonsense, you'll assuredly find it this day." A voice like tumbling stone called out from a hammock tethered between a post on a house's porch and a palm tree.

"Calico Jack." Whetstone sighed in response. "I'd have thought you busy with yer own brand o' nonsense as usual. What in blazes is goin' on here? Where's everyone gone? Why's there a behemoth of a ship skulking outside Nassau?"

"Like I said. Nonsense. The King's come a'callin' fer a pardon. Any pirate that's wanting fer an out can get back into the good graces of his majesty, loot untouched. Everyone's holed up or arguing amongst themselves about where to go from here. Seems too good t' be true, but old Benji boy seems quite taken with the idea." Said Rackham. He gave himself a push off the ground with his foot, swinging his hammock a bit. "And them that don't sign their name?" He dragged his thumb across his throat.

"Hornigold? Ain't he practically the founder o' this place? Why give it up? We've got real freedom here."

"Founder and mayor, or so he thought himself. Among others I s'pose. The King's seen t' that, too. You be knowin' a man by the name Woodes Rogers? Failed privateer or some such. He seems to know you."

"Aye, I know of him." She thought of the moomin in the powdered wig at Cartier Manor. She chose not to bring it up.

"That'll be yer new mayor. Appointed by the crown and everything." Jack seemed as carefree as ever despite the news, his arms thrown behind his head. "Hornigold seems to think the place he built up on stolen gold could grow into something proper. I think he's gone dotty in his age an' just wants fer a statue of himself." He coughed out a coarse laugh, wheezing a moment as he wound back down.

The Captain's mind began to wander. If it was true, she could get the quiet life she wanted with Marion, away from the rigors of life at sea. She'd be free, but would Marion consider it freedom? She'd been too nervous to ask her, after all, it was Marion's dream to sail and do as she pleased. A pirate's life suited Marion better than it ever had herself, and her stint as a pirate had only just begun. Retirement had been Whetstone's goal until she met the fillyjonk she loved, but could she do so without the guilt of clipping her wings? Could she give her the freedom she'd always wanted without the risks of swashbuckling and seafaring? Each of her thoughts peppered her mind, the circular nature of it causing her to lose focus.

"You should go see Hornigold. Make of all this what y' will with yer own peepers. I'm going to take a very long nap… to clear my head." He placed his hat over his face.

"Where's he supposed t' be?" She asked. In response, Jack loudly pretended to snore. The captain tapped the underside of the hammock with her foot. "Rackham. Where's Hornigold at right now?"

"I'm sleeping!" He shouted as he turned over. The scent of booze surrounded him as he shifted. Whetstone kicked him again, harder this time. "I'm sleeeeeeping!" He sat up and sang loudly. A pewter mug flew out the top floor window of the building he was anchored to and struck him squarely on the head. He yelped, covering his head as he lay back down in his hammock.

"Damn it, Rackham, you lout! I know you ain't do much of it, but some of us is tryin' to think!" A woman with dark hair in a green waistcoat leaned out the window. "If yer looking fer Hornigold, he's up at the old fort overlooking the shore. Seems to spend an awful lot of time there these days. Nice seein' ye by the way, Whetstone. Wish it were under brighter circumstances."

"Thanks, Mary. Glad t' see some folks still got their wits about them." Whetstone said, happy to see a familiar face with some thoughts behind it.

"Careful up there. He's like to have Rogers with him. Don't let him force ye to sign something you ain't thought about."

Captain Whetstone had never really been to the old fort save for wandering by, but she had always seen it on her way in. Last she'd seen it, the fort was mostly dilapidated and deserted. It hadn't seen use since before Nassau was Nassau, and the defenses that had been put up focused primarily on the inlets rather than the surrounding sea. It seemed as though it had been worked on recently, with new bricks having been laid in some areas and a few spare cannons brought over. Supplies, crates, and tools were strewn about the fort, and new doors had been placed on a few of the scant interiors. Men of the King's navy armed with rifles lined the walls, closely and silently watching the captain as she searched around. She tucked her paws into her pockets as she walked, uneasy in the open space surrounded by unfriendly eyes.

"Hornigold?" She knocked on the new door, pressing her ear against it to listen.

"Enter." A voice said from within.

Whetstone pushed open the door, revealing that the interior had been decorated, although sparsely, with furniture and the trappings of an office. A stone spiral staircase led down on one side of the room, and a closet mirrored it on the other. Daylight poured in through the gaps in the window's impromptu cabinet doors, highlighting the peeling paint on and splintered wood within.

An older snork man sat in a chair behind a desk. He had short brown hair combed neatly to the side, fitting just between his ears, atop pristine white fur. His frock coat was gray and well maintained, beneath it was a clean and spotless white shirt. He removed his reading glasses and set them aside, before clearing his throat and folding his paws on the desk.

"Captain Whetstone I presume. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Governor Woodes Rogers."

"I knew that bastard hired a phony Rogers…" Whetstone thought aloud, just below speaking volume.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothin'! Nothin' important anyway. Ain't I supposed t' be the one beggin' fer a pardon?"

"No, I mean, I don't know what you just said."

"So there isn't a royal pardon?" It was almost never clear if she was joking or not.

"There…There is, yes. Sit down, please, and we can discuss matters further." He was clearly already very tired of dealing with pirates. The captain sat down, not wishing for any misunderstanding with several armed men just outside.

"His majesty has decided to extend his grace to any who have committed acts of piracy, they need only sign their name, give up their ways, and they are free to go. Any who do not accept this offer are to be brought in as criminals and or hanged given the severity of their crimes. No tricks, no games. We've enough trouble with the war as is, and needn't have the constant fear of pirates alongside enemies of the crown."

"So it's be pardoned or get blasted to bits by that Man O' War on the way out, is it?"

"No. Everyone's free to leave. They've all got till the fifth of September to turn themselves in, and after that they'll all be hunted down." Rogers spoke sternly and plainly, but not unkindly. "You, on the other hand…"

Just as Rogers finished speaking, Benjamin Hornigold rose from the stairwell, a flintlock pistol in his paw. His round hemulic silhouette was cut short by the sharp angles of his coat, and the broad shoulder pads within it. He pointed his gun right at Captain Whetstone, who immediately stood and reached for hers.

"Still as a sandbar, Whetstone! Don't get grabby with anything shooty 'er sharp." Hornigold pulled back the hammer on his pistol. He entered the room fully, but just beyond the range of being tackled to the ground. He'd seen much and done much in his day, and moved with purpose.

"What in blazes are ye doin' Hornigold?!" Whetstone raised her paws in the air. She eyed her surroundings as best she could, not taking her focus off her supposed ally. Rogers remained completely unfazed, sitting calmly at his desk.

Hornigold whistled loudly. "Right, boys! Kindly relieve Miss Whetstone of her belongings. She won't be needin' em much longer."

Two of the navy men from outside answered the call, entering and slowly approaching the captive captain. They flanked her on either side, while Hornigold kept his aim on her.

"Why are ye doin' this? There's a pardon, Hornigold! We can be free again!" Whetstone said. While not committed to the idea yet, her renewed hopes were being dashed before they had a chance to grow.

"Because we cannot have you roaming free anywhere in a civilized world. Most of these men became pirates out of a loyalty to country or kin, and can be reformed. You fight for nothing. You work for nothing. You do nothing but take for the thrill of taking!" Woodes Rogers slammed his fists on the desk as he stood. "I was a privateer… I traveled for five long years around the globe. My own brother was killed at the hands of scum like you. Do you know what happened to me upon my return? I was sued by my own crew for lost wages." He paced the room, the tension was palpable as he did so. The men that had arrived to disarm the captain had not yet made an attempt, instead listening to Rogers' story.

"I was badly wounded the day they took my brother. I had barely recovered by the time I arrived home. I had praise for my accomplishments, to be certain… but I was destitute and alone. Some time later I hear of some… would-be folk hero pirate– who showed up in France and stole away with some pompous fool's daughter." His composure was beginning to break as the volume of his voice began to rise. "My exploits are many, and yet no songs are sung of me. No plays written after me. My legacy exists only in a book I penned myself! I've fought to be remembered. And you… some lazy, layabout nobody… you've captivated the hearts and minds of countless men, women, and children. Tales are told about you and your purported skills and the things you've allegedly done. Doubtless riddled with lies. And to top it all off, you've roped me into your shenanigans by placing me at your duel in Marseille. You billed me as a coward and a buffoon." He turned his back to her as he paced, paws folded behind him. "You are a pox! Upon this world! A blight on the name of sailors everywhere!"

The man to the captain's right reached for one of the pistols in her brace, slowly removing it. Just then, she struck the man to her left with her elbow square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He grunted hard as he fell to the ground. She took the other man's neck in her raised right arm, spinning him to her front as she drew her other pistol.

tst-BOOM!

Hornigold fired at the captain, instead wounding the man she captured in his shoulder. She tossed him aside and went to rush Benjamin as the navy man stumbled to regain his footing. Hornigold threw his spent gun at her, deftly backstepping as he readied a second pistol from the small of his back. Whetstone fired back, missing by a hair as she batted the thrown gun aside and sprinted toward him. He managed to bring his second gun to bear before she reached him, stopping her in her tracks.

"Enough!" He shouted. "Don't make me shoot you, Whetstone." His voice betrayed a hint of regret.

Several more navy men poured in from the door after hearing the shots. They pointed their rifles at her in practiced formation from the rear.

"Nassau's future depends on this! We can't win a war with the crown. I won't be givin' up what I've built here after so long!" Hornigold tightened his grip. "Just give it up. Please. I want a part in Nassau's continued growth. Rogers won't let that happen if yer still knockin' about."

The captain balled her fists as she growled. She was surrounded thoroughly, with no chance of escape.

"You are to be taken to England and hanged as an example. An omen to those who'd fly a black flag rather than accept the pardon and live as honest sailors. If the legend of Captain Whetstone is to be told with me in it, it will be told with a definitive end." Woodes said, sitting back down in his chair. "Your crew has already been captured, overpowered by mine and Benjamin's men. They'll be tried, and likely hanged as well. Take her away."

–

Puukko took a moment from her story, and along with it a sip from her glass. She'd hardly touched her stew, despite its enticing aroma. She found it hard to speak about those days beyond the stories worth telling. The rest of it ate at her all these years, her piled regrets folded neatly like so much laundry. She scanned her hosts’ faces. She hadn't reached the grim parts of her tale, and yet already she'd felt she'd cursed the valley with recountings of such hot blood. Neither Moominpapa nor Moominmama seemed to be put off by the story so far, each listening attentively as they ate.

“Spent weeks aboard Benji's ship. I were tied down below deck with nothin’ but me fur and a scarce bit o’ food n’ water here and there. Spent the whole time dreamin’ up revenge plans while I rotted away, but by the time I'd been brought into a private cell somewheres, I'd given up hope. M’ crew’d all been held someplace else, somewhere they usually hold pirates afore their trial I s'pose. I was put in some guarded camp with a myriad of small outbuildings, probably cells in each of ‘em. Pirate after pirate took pardons, and it were as close to the end of the golden age as you could put a point on. Word got out of my capture and soon-t’-be execution ‘round England. Sounded like the bells were tollin’. Spent maybe a day ‘er two in that cell starin’ at the moon through the bars too high fer me t’ reach. Just sat there hating myself for what I'd done to Marion. The sentence I'd sold me crew and t’ her most of all. Head was full o’ hate. Hate and fear and sorrow and all sorts of other things…”

Puukko set her spoon delicately atop the thick stew in her bowl, the surface tension holding it a moment. She watched it sink. Her eyes were distant, heavy with the fog of memory. She continued once again.

“Rackham and Read had taken the pardon. First thing they did with their new found freedom was t’ pinch a crate o’ hand grenades. Weren't sure if that part were part o’ the next bit, or if they were just feelin’ like celebrating with a bang.” She chuckled a little, though in a somber, almost mournful manner. “Anyhow, they tracked me down an’ blew the cell wall out. Quite the jailbreak. Mary took a bullet to the calf fer me then, on the run out. Not sure how we pulled it off, but after we'd made it out she'd spilled her beans about how she were fixin’ t’ save me crew, too. Whole lot, Marion included. Trouble was, she were part o’ that plan, but now she'd been shot she weren't able to do nothin’ and the execution was just a few days out. She gave me all she knew about Rogers and comp'ny an’ who what where an’ why, but it would be up t’ me to pull it off. Plan was half-baked at best, but then again I never was good at followin’ a plan.”

–

“I have had enough of fancy manors an’ fancy folk.” Whetstone said, crouched behind a hedge alongside Calico Jack. The evening air was taught and cold, but thick with the sound of a dinner party from within a mansion across the way. Similar large houses dotted the area, sprawling out from the city.

“Least you won't have to do any running tonight, missy. If ye can stay quiet, that is. You look like a bear, and smell like one, so I'm hopin’ ye can climb like one. Anyway, dear captain, I fear I've work to do! See you on the other side of all this mess.”

“Thank you, Rackham. Give Mary m’ best. In case I don't be seein’ ye.” Despite the tense atmosphere, she couldn't help but wonder just how Jack of all people would know what a bear smells like. She shook the thought out of her head.

The original plan Mary had laid out involved fine clothes and playing at being high status to get into the manor, but without Mary's wit and relatively unrecognizable face, they'd have to make due. Jack wandered off into the street, feigning a drunken stupor. He approached a duo of guards stationed at the gate, bottle in hand. Each were stout looking hemulens with constable attire and billy clubs to match.

“Oh, don't ya just hear the old man say? Goodbye fare ye well! Goodbye fare ye well!” Jack sung slurredly, now stumbling directly in front of the guard on the left side of the gate. The captain watched in quiet anticipation from her hiding place.

“Make tracks, piss-pot! This ‘ere ain't another pub for you to crawl into!” The guard shouted as he shoved Jack back into the street, nearly toppling him.

“What’s is he sayin’? That he don't… that he dun’t like my song?” Jack pouted looking over at the other guard, who was clearly bored with his duties. Rackham began singing again, practically shouting. He wandered straight into the open gate, scanning the area as he sang. “Oh don't you hear the old man say! Hurrah! Me boys! We're homeward bound!”

“Invite only! Back to the bars with you!” The constable dragged Jack out from his shirt collar, tossing him into the street.

“Meet ya there, mate!” Jack rose up from the ground, and wound up his arm comically far before slapping the guard that shoved him right across the snout, then cackled as he began to run.

“Oy!” The guard clasped his paws over his nose, recoiling from the sting of the slap. “Get ‘im in irons!”

Both guards began chasing him, clubs raised high and shouting. About halfway down the street, Rackham threw his bottle toward the guards, intentionally missing them. It landed hard, shattering and scattering glass throughout the street and an echo through the air, signaling the waiting Captain Whetstone that both guards were after him, and the courtyard empty.

Whetstone ran as quietly as she could past the gate, heading off to the side before anyone could come out to investigate the ruckus. The manor house was tall and elegant, a symbol of status gifted to Nassau’s new mayor, the man poised to put an end to the golden age of piracy. The occasional shrill shriek or boisterous laugh could be heard from inside on the main floor, the dinner party was as raucous as could be for the wealthy and the powerful. Whetstone looked around for a way up and in. Mary had scouted the place well enough, but her plan had them entering as guests.

Sparks glittered against the night sky following shortly behind a cigar tossed from the rear balcony. It tumbled into the cool grass, smoldering into darkness. The Captain couldn't help her eyes being drawn to it, she traced its path up and to the balcony railing. It stretched out and round hovering above the rear garden, pillared over the patio. The pillars themselves cornered about the perimeter, and stopped nearest to the ornate blackened metal archways supporting numerous decorative flowers which bordered the courtyard itself. She made sure the dagger Mary and Rackham could spare for her was tucked firmly within her belt, over her coarse linen shirt and borrowed slops. She tested her footing on the ironwork, climbing up and over toward the balcony's edge. She pulled herself up as far as she could muster, peeking in to ensure none saw her climbing over the railing. Despite her size, she was quite agile.

The doors were unlocked, allowing guests to enter and exit as they pleased. She snuck in and began checking rooms, hunting for Rogers’ office. She listened carefully, pressing her ear to each door as she passed them. Her heart beat loud in her ears, contested by the creak of each floorboard and the rattling of each doorknob. Her normally steady paws shook just so. The upper floor consisted of several rooms arranged along a boxed hall, each ending in stairs leading down to the main foyer. She'd checked every door alongside the balcony, and had only the riskier side halls to go. She peaked around the corner down the hall, waiting a moment to listen. When she felt it was clear, she slinked around the bend, heading straight for the first door she could see. Just then, a slender young fillyjonk abruptly exited the room nearest the stairs. He wore a hat obscuring the top half of his face, and a white dress shirt with suspenders. He held a cut cigar in his paw, and was heading straight at Captain Whetstone. She tucked herself against the wall around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to hear if he'd noticed her.

She heard his footsteps continue at pace. Whether he saw her or not, he was still approaching, and fast. Whetstone's mind raced, she thought of heading back to the last room she checked, but her feet wouldn't move. She froze in place. She felt a pang of guilt run through her, and struggled to figure out why. The thought finally hit her, in seconds that felt like hours. The man approaching looked just like Marion did the night she met her. It was too late to turn back now, he was almost on her. She fumbled a moment for the dagger beneath her sash. The sound of its sharp edges running against the soft leather of the sheathe made her stomach churn. She was all too familiar with the violence it would wreak, but never on someone so unsuspecting, unarmed. Never in such cold blood. Never on a man who simply turned the wrong corner at a party. She'd taken lives before, but never callously. It was not something she did easy, but tonight, it would have to be.

The fillyjonk's arms appeared first, clutching a borrowed table lighter in one paw and his cigar in the other. Then his nose, whiskers drooping just slightly off his face. The captain raised her arm, dagger pointed down from on high. She felt wrong in every inch of her body. Every follicle of each individual hair in her fur felt like a thousand needles. His foot stepped into the hall just past the corner, and in an instant she began swinging down in a forceful arc.

“Henri!” A voice came from just atop the stairs. “Henri, where are you going? We're going to smoke in the parlor, not on the balcony! It is far too cold for a young damsel like me!” A drunken woman with a heavy French accent shouted in an almost flirty tone.

Whetstone's arm stopped hard just after building momentum, her muscles nearly collapsing from the sudden stop. Her arm felt like a ship breaking up on the rocks. Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her empty paw to her mouth to hide the sound of her pain and the sudden wave of guilt and relief that washed over her. Her eyes began to well up with tears.

“Coming, dear! I told you to bring a coat. You don't listen to me as often as you should, you know.” The man said smugly as he turned about face, back down the hall, completely unaware that his life was nearly cut short.

The captain's gut wrenched, she began breathing heavily as she slumped against the wall, tucking the dagger back into its sheathe. A few moments passed before she regained her composure, pushing the thought out of her mind as the reality of her task set back in.

The second door she tried after her encounter opened into a wide, unlit office space. It was Rogers’ study, she was sure of it. Decorated neatly with his accomplishments, and with a massive painting of himself hung center behind the desk. The room was fit for a lounge, with chairs, a table, a globe that was open revealing within a small bar, and taxidermy animal heads lining the walls. She opened a small door beside a display case and found a closet with several coats and hats hung within. She tucked herself inside, and began to wait.

She sat alone with her thoughts. She grieved the man she'd almost killed as though she'd done so, and grieved her crew as though they'd already hung. She grieved the pirate named Whetstone, the legend she'd created and become. Mostly, she grieved the life of freedom she'd stolen from the woman she loved. She pressed her claws into her palm one by one, the urge to pace pulling at her legs. It reminded her of the times when she would hide from her parents when she'd felt she'd done something wrong. It reminded her of the agonizing silence when she tried to speak to them as a child, her voice too quiet to escape her body. She remained trapped in her mind, the past few weeks a near uninterrupted onslaught of memories and regrets.

The door to the study creaked open, and heavy footsteps rolled in. A snork gentleman sighed contentedly as he lit the sconces about the room and the lantern at his desk. Woodes Rogers pulled his chair back from his desk and sat down. Puukko had not even noticed that the party had ended, but the silence from below confirmed it. She steadied herself, ready once again to play the part of fearsome pirate captain.

“Woodes Rogers.” Whetstone stepped out from her hiding place, dagger in her paw. She flipped it idly as she walked to the center of the room, turning to face him at the end of her stride. Woodes scrambled to open the top drawer of his desk.

“Ah! I wouldn't do that.” She said, laughing low and gravelly just after. Woodes pulled a flintlock pistol from the drawer, pulling back the hammer and leveling it at Whetstone. “How much you had to drink tonight at yer little soiree, Woodes? Think ye can kill me in one shot? Even if ye do, a whole lot more folk than jus’ you or I are gonna die if I don't make it outta here ship-shape.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin and held her arms out.

“If it isn't the famous Captain Whetstone.” Woodes sneered bitterly and sarcastically. “Shouldn't you be rotting in a cell before your execution?”

“Yup. Nothin’ left to lose, saw to that one yerself. Been real lonely since ya captured me, y'know. I'm just itchin’ fer a conversation. And I don't know about you, but I find it much easier t’ talk without a gun pointin’ at me.”

“What is it you want?” Woodes set the pistol down on his desk, within reach. “Not one step closer.”

“Just what I'm owed, Woodes. Not more'an that. I come a'callin’ fer an act of grace.”

“Ah! Hahaha!” Woodes doubled over in laughter. “It's a bit late for that now, your execution is already scheduled! Not to mention the crimes of escaping custody and breaking into my home. You've gone completely mad!”

“I'm assuming you can write those last two in there, too. Get yer pen out. Ye got one of them pardons stashed away in yer desk?”

“It's not one per pirate, it's one large document all involved parties sign. Even if I had it here, you'd need to sign it in court, buffoon.”

“Figures. Well let's talk about what we can do here ‘n now, th–”

“I could shoot you. Or you could rot in a different cell from your last one. Or both. I hardly care for the details.”

“Yer fergettin’ abou–” Before the captain could continue, Rogers reached for his gun once again. She flipped the dagger in her paw, gripping the blade before sending it sailing through the air. Just as Rogers readied the gun, the dagger embedded itself into its wooden frame, knocking it out of his paw. She closed the distance, lunging over the desk to tackle him. She gripped his throat, and with her other paw, rested her claws just against his neck. He stopped struggling as soon as she'd had the upper hand.

“Those things are awful noisy, Woodes. I'd prefer if ye could hear what I'm about t’ tell ye.” She pulled up, forcing him to upright himself, then she held him against the wall. “Say, do ye remember the Man O’ War Hornigold beached in front of Nassau?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, mouth closed.

“You were a privateer. How much powder d'ye reckon it takes fer a full broadside from her? All the guns shifted t’ the one side as it were. And how many times do ye figure she were fit to fire before taking on more powder? Bein’ a warship an’ all.” She tightened her grip. “and how much more powder ye think were… donated… to Nassau and her many pirates?”

“You're bluffing!” Rogers' eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He slackened, and Whetstone let him free to sit atop his desk.

“I wish I were, Woodes!” She bluffed. “You could either be the man who captured and executed the legendary captain Whetstone, or you could be the man who's failures brought the newly civilized Nassau to ruin. And I'll do it again, too. Panama. Curaçao. Anywhere. And it'll be in your name. There‘re folks with torches lit jus’ waitin’ t’ hear that I didn't make it out of here. Or that I did, and that you couldn't work it out. The choice is yers.” She retrieved her dagger and the pistol.

Rogers sat and thought for a while before speaking up. “Wait, captured and executed?”

“Still a few days afore the execution. Plenty o’ time to come up with somethin’. Ye get t’ be a hero, so long as I get to walk. Ye can announce at me crew's trial that the King has shown ‘unprecedented grace’ towards his people and decided to spare them the grisly gibbet, and send them mean ol’ pirates off somewheres else. Sentenced to transportation.”

“And you? I fake your death? And then what, you skulk about England free as a bird to hop back on a ship?”

“Poof! Gone. Forever. A puff of smoke from yer pipe soakin’ into the curtains.” She gestured dramatically.

Rogers began putting pieces together in his head once more, the details fitting together neatly in his mind. “I'll charter you a ship. You're to be taken somewhere else, NOT along with your crew, mind you. No… You'll be sent a world apart from them. And if the ship's captain reports you did not show, there'll be no trial for your men. If I ever see your name or hear of someone that looks like you on a ship ever again, I'll know where to find your people. And I'll have their pardons revoked. They'll be summarily executed.”

–

"Soon after that, Marion an' me crew got sent off to Australia or thereabouts. Sent me o'er t' North America. Figured I'd just cause trouble if I went wherever else they send criminals, so I got shipped out t' the wild west. Did some gunslingin' and highwayman shenanigans. Were a gun fer hire fer a bit. Not at first, though. After I'd lost everything I figured I'd hit the straight n' narrow, work as an honest blacksmith again like I did afore I were a pirate. Didn't get very far, figured I was only good at bein' an outlaw. I were a legend brought low and vanished, a ghost of a person… Hardly anyone recognized me out that way, despite it all. Thing about it is, weren't too much use fer swordsmanship nor sailing in the mainland, and the guns o' the time were a bit harder t' manage fer an old salt like me. Bein' a highwayman an' bandit meant stealin' from folks what ain't deserve it most days, an' bein' a gun fer hire meant gettin' in fights I ain't got a stake in fer a coin. I weren't much good at it neither. At sea, there's miles an' miles o' water 'tween you and thems that know yer face and can do somethin' about it. When ye make too friendly with some feller's wife, er rob the wrong folks, well… small towns. Lots of wide open, sure, but the folk all know yer name and who done what. Us moomins cut a pretty recognizable silhouette I reckon, so I got chased out of near every town I found myself. 'Stead of pushin' further west like most folk o' the day, I kept heading east. Kept runnin' an' runnin' and eventually I realized I weren't bein' chased no more. I spent a lot o' time thinkin'... got real down on m' self. Felt I weren't good fer nothin' and felt I ought t' cut out alone somewheres. I'd been bad, and I'd done lots of wrong. Did a whole lot I ought t' regret. Heard tell of a place called Moominvalley. Set out and hunkered down alone in the mountains. Took a long time 'fore I ever came down into the valley itself… And the rest is history." She sighed and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"When I met Marion, my only fear was losing her. As soon as I lost her, my only fear was seein' her again... Fer all I've done and fer who I've been, I'm scared. Scared I won't be able t' face her again. I thought of apologizin' an' all kinds of other things. It's the one thing I'm not sure I'm strong enough fer. I spend most of my days living a new life, and it's a life I love. But there are days I think about it all, and think about her. And what she's like now. And what became of her." She idly tore bits of bread apart, setting them in her bowl of stew and watching them swell and sink around her spoon. She hadn't raised her head to look at her hosts since around halfway through her tale.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one ate, no one said anything. The cool breeze halted and the wood of the house dared not settle nor creak. They simply sat, enduring the reality of her story. By now, most of the valley knew she'd been a pirate, but few thought more of it than the romantic stories they've heard over and over. The truth of who Puukko once was and who she became were laid bare. It was hard for the Moominparents to believe that the friend they'd come to know, the eccentric and often grandmotherly blacksmith living in the mountains had once led such a life. She was an outlaw, and a killer, and there wasn't any taking that back.

"I'm too old now to believe that only the good die young. But I sure seem t' have lived an awful long time…" The silence became too much for her to bear. She stood up, pushing in her chair. "I think it's time I got on."

Moominmama stood and grabbed Puukko by the paw with both of her own.

"I'm not sure what brought you to Moominvalley. But I'm glad you ended up here." She smiled, in a reassuring way that only Moominmama could manage. “Whatever you did back then, all we can do is make up for it by living here and now, the best we can.”

"You know…" Moominpapa scratched at his chin. "We visited the wild west once. The whole family, in fact. It's quite the story, if you've got the time! Sit back down, I'll tell you all about it! They used to call me Two-gun Moomin!”

“Dear, I believe only you called yourself that.” Moominmama chuckled softly.

Puukko smiled, returning to her seat. The Moomins had a warmth about them that she couldn't shake, and always seemed to know exactly what their guests needed. They were strange, but they were kind. It'd been an age since she felt that someone truly knew her. She felt a lump in her throat, and a sense of acceptance she'd not felt in a long, long time.

#Puukko #moomins #moomin oc #moominvalley #ao3 #first mate Marion #moominpappa #moominmamma #whetstone's whispers

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ordinaryschmuck · 5 months

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What I Quickly Thought about What If...? Season Two

For those who don’t know, I’m one of the few people who actually enjoyed What If…? Season One for what it was. Did it take advantage of telling interesting tales with the MCU, giving us intense glimpses of these universes that showed us what COULD HAVE been? Not all the time. Was it still good dumb fun? To me it was. And that’s pretty much what What If…?, as a concept, was, even in the comics. Yeah, you got interesting stuff like “What if Spider-Man never became a crime fighter?” or “What if Daredevil was raised by The Kingpin?” but it also had stuff like “What if the Original Marvel Bullpen Became the Fantastic Four?” or “What if Sargent Fury Fought World War Two in Outer Space?” The comics were less about high-concepts and more about writers doing whatever the hell they wanted with the Marvel Universe and being able to have fun with it because, well, none of it was canon. The same applied to the MCU’s What If…?, as it was a chance for the writers to do a murder mystery with the Avengers or make T’Challa fix the universe as Star-Lord. They can kill characters, make dumb(er) jokes, and play around with the heroes and villains in the MCU like they were action figures. And I’m into that. Don’t get me wrong, I would love more episodes like “What if…Doctor Strange lost his heart instead of his hands?” or “What if…Ultron won?” as they DO have a lot of great moments and show off what these characters are capable of than what the movies/shows proved. But at the same time, I didn’t mind watching the big buff lady that is Captain Carter kill Nazis or watch Spider-Man and a band of heroes try to survive a zombie apocalypse. It’s a show where everyone is meant to just sit back, turn their brain off, and have some fun while occasionally getting something interesting. Again, just like the comics.

So when Season Two got announced, I was genuinely excited. I like Season One and I wanted more of it. Then when the trailer came out with an episode list, I thought, “Okay, this could be the show embracing comic book wackiness.” Now, not a lot of people were into that…In fact, the majority said that a lot of these concepts weren’t even interesting and were, instead, kind of lame. I don’t get it, maybe because I’m in the exact mindset the MCU wants me to have with this series, but I was still looking forward to Season Two. The question is, was it worth it? Well, let’s quickly go over each episode to find out.

Spoilers Ahead

What If…Nebula Joined the Nova Corps?: Ooooooooh, what a great start. Watching Nebula act as a cop/detective, but with her cold, deadpan badassery still intact was a ton of fun in this dark, gritty setting made for this new version of her. I loved watching this new version of Nebula make her way through a darkened Xandar, with her never straying from this oath and acting as it should be intended, all while teaming up with Howard the Duck of all characters. Like, I kind of enjoy seeing Howard turn out to be this sleazy casino owner who treats Nebula as a true friend despite them working on opposite ends of the law. The concept itself is funny and execution is endearing with Seth Green giving much needed charm to the character. It’s part of the fun of What If…?: Showing characters who couldn’t interact in the movies or didn’t have much screen time and allowing them another chance to shine…Unfortunately, that’s not always a good thing. Because while I love seeing a character like Howard make a surprisingly good comeback, watching Yon-Rog, one of the more boring MCU villains, show up and lack any intrigue or fun is just…no. And then there’s Nova Prime who decided to betray the entire Corp by taking down the force field…Something that was HER idea to do and, given the pull she had, could have done at any point. Why string Nebula along when Nova Prime could have just made the ruling herself that the force field needed to be taken down? A friend of mine tried explaining how it could make sense, but I don’t know. It doesn’t change this weird got while watching. But while flawed, it was pretty cool to see this new setting in the MCU, carried by Nebula as the Super Nova (Love that name, by the way. It’s perfect). The plot has a big ol’ hole, not every character return works, but it gave me a half-hour of fun so I’m not complaining (Get used to that thought process, by the way).

What If…Peter Quill Attacked Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?: And this one’s a little rough around the edges. It’s fun to see this alternate version of the Avengers form to fight a Peter Quill who has Ego’s powers, but it feels like the entire episode is on fast-forward, almost like this is what would happen if the first Avengers movie needed to be made thirty-minutes long. It’s sort of the downside of What If having a half-hour runtime, where it has to both tell a story and introduce us to this new universe in under thirty minutes. It’s the same with the comics that had less than thirty pages to do the exact same thing, only to feel longer because comic writers in the seventies and eighties don’t know how to shut the hell up. The end result is a story that’s fine ENOUGH, but it would have benefited with more time to slow down and let us appreciate this new team of old heroes. I mean, we have the original Captain Mar-Vel, T’Challa’s father, and even Goliath, which would have been AWESOME to see them play a big role. But instead, the episode focuses on Hank Pym, Bucky, and THOR, somehow, making these other heroes valued members but also a bit of an afterthought. Also, despite this being a different version of the Avengers, they somehow make MORE quips than the original team, with few of it feeling like it’s in character. It has the same problem as Age of Ultron where everyone is cracking jokes at every second as much as they can, and it HIGHLY depends on your willingness to stomach that kind of thing if you’re willing to watch this episode. That and if you’re willing to forgive a character doing this STUPID AND RISKY thing that worked out for the better but doesn’t change how stupid and risky it is. Overall, this whole episode is a very interesting idea mixed with some very FLAWED execution that spoils the fun to be had.

What If…Happy Hogan Saved Christmas?: Now this? All kinds of fun to be had with this one. The return of Justin Hammer of all villains isn’t something I thought I needed, but I heavily enjoyed watching what’s basically the anti-Tony Stark show up and be his most despicably charming self. It was a blast to watch this scrawny little twink TRY and act intimidating as he dances all over the place. It makes him feel more and more like a cartoon villain, which is appropriate for yuletide fun. You don’t NEED a menacing presence for Christmas, you need a GOOF. And Hammer’s the goofiest with his lame catchphrases and very STUPID dancing, I couldn’t get enough of it. But the real star is Happy, who gets juiced up for an adaptation I NEVER would have expected from the MCU. The Freak is one of the sides to Happy that not many fans would know about unless they’ve immersed themselves with Iron Man lore (Or read a shit load of comics for the past two years like me), but it really is cool to see that side of him brought to life. The way Happy looks and moves like more of a manic Hulk on crack does great at setting him apart from the Jolly Green Monster we know and love, but also makes The Freak feel more unique from how he was in the comics. It was a blast of a holiday special with the only downside is that Darcy’s OCCASIONALLY annoying. Not much other than that, though, as this is the best Christmas present I could ask from Marvel.

What If…Iron Man Crashed Into the Grandmaster?: Fun fact, this was originally meant to be in Season One but was cut due to time constraints. Yeah, remember how weird it was that the Watcher plucked a version of Gamora we didn’t know? Well, now we finally know…through a story that’s primarily about Tony Stark that makes me wonder why the hell The Watcher didn’t take him.

But facts and jokes aside, I loved the shit out of this episode. There are probably going to be some cynics out there saying that the cars and the race is an excuse to sell toys or LEGO sets or some shit, but I don’t care because everything about it was AWESOME!. Not to mention that it lit up a special place in my heart and brain to watch Tony Stark be a hero again, not hesitating to save lives, putting everything on the line, and helping bring Gamora into the light, all while still being his snarky, Starky self. And huge props to Mick Wingert voicing him, who doesn’t sound like Robert Downy Jr at ALL, but still nails the energy and mannerisms. I can picture RDJ saying all of these lines and it helps make this feel like one last Iron Man story for the fans. Seeing the Grandmaster again was ALSO a plus, as he was his same goofy-self. As for the real hook of this episode, Gamora, she’s…fine. I don’t love that it’s Tony that helped her redemption arc since I always preferred how turning against Thanos was something Gamora decided for herself instead of this thing that someone brought out. It’s not a BAD idea, but it’s something that might have worked better with NEBULA, a character that could actually USE convincing, instead of Gamora, a character who would likely go to Stark to help kill Thanos. Still, I don’t HATE it, nor do I hate the episode. It was an adrenaline thrill-ride that gave us a return of Tony where he DOESN’T die in the end. I couldn’t have asked for more if I heard this episode’s title, and I’m glad it’s what we’ve got.

What If…Captain Carter Fought the Hydra Stomper?: I…KIND OF understand the reception towards Captain Carter. I don’t get why Marvel keeps pushing her more than their actual Captain America replacement, Sam Wilson. I mean, Captain Carter showed up in three projects (two seasons of television and a movie), where Sam made his official appearance as Captain America once…and hasn’t even cameoed in any other movie or show. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the big buff lady and it’s awesome seeing her fight the giant robot. It’s cool, I love it. I also heavily enjoyed this episode, getting into the drama, action, and seeing Peggy make a surprisingly believable friendship with Black Widow. Heck, I’d go so far as to say that this is a better Black Widow story than her actual movie gave us. So I like it, I like seeing Captain Carter and some of her adventures. I especially like that this story isn’t a direct rehash of Winter Soldier like how the first episode is a rehash of First Avenger. The writers actually set out to make something more unique and it makes me like Captain Carter a little more. I just wish we could get that same love and appreciation towards Sam Wilson, whose movie got pushed back to 2025 and will count as the only time this character has been relevant since his mini-series. If this is our new leader of the Avengers and the man who will fight to save the multiverse, we’re probably going to need more than one appearance from the guy. I don’t think people would complain about more Captain Carter if Sam Wilson’s Captain America wasn’t so blatantly shoved too far to the side.

What If…Kahhori Reshaped the World?: One of the few rare times the MCU made an ORIGINAL superhero. There is no previous comic, movie, or show that Kahhori is based on. She’s a completely original character made up for this franchise, much like Miles Morales in the Ultimate universe or X-23 in X-Men Evolution (Check that show out, by the way. It’s pretty damn good). And just like those two, I REALLY hope Kahhori manages to become such a hit with audiences that she spawns more content, because Kahhori and her world is something I would love to revisit. Her personality is fun, her motivation is inspiring, and her powers are unique enough to make her stand out more to the other heroes in the MCU. As for her story, it’s your bare-bones origin story. The whole episode is about explaining her powers, the world she lives in, and the people she loves and fights for. It does all this while proving her heroics through fighting a supervillain set out to do some damage. Only, instead of some generic supervillain that matches her powers it’s this Spanish Conquistador who…honestly still looks like a supervillain, which is kind of funny. And it works for Kahhori, proving that while she’s currently the most powerful person in the world, she’s willing to fight against oppression and the monarchy, advocating for peace instead of a continuous war for who gains the most control. Like I said, that’s inspiring and it’s why I want to see more of this character and how far she can go when fighting bigger, more evil threats than the Queen of Spain. Whether it’s a spin-off TV show/movie, a comic mini-series, or even introducing Kahhori into the 616 comics (somehow), I wouldn’t mind seeing this new, wonderful hero more in the future.

What If…Hela Found the Ten Rings?: I…did not expect to like this one as much as I did. I wasn’t the BIGGEST fan of Hela, because aside from seeing her actress having a blast to go full ham, there wasn’t much to her. Yeah, she was this conqueror alongside Odin, which is an interesting backstory for HIM, but for Hela, it’s not enough. Instead of telling me WHO she is, Thor: Ragnarok kept telling me WHAT she was. Then here comes an episode of What If…? that not only gives me that answer, but a lot more. Sure, the first half is a bit wonky, but when we get to the second, we finally get an idea of who Hela is. Simply put, Hela doesn’t know who she is beyond a conqueror, and that’s because Odin never trained nor raised her to be anything more. This episode forces Hela to face that and discover answers she never knew she was seeking, having a surprisingly decent redemption, becoming a goddess of life instead of death. I…love that. I love that WAY MORE than I could have expected to love it. It makes me appreciate Hela a lot more and maybe see that there’s a tragedy to her in Thor: Ragnarok. Hela could have changed for the better if she met someone that could bring her good side out, but because she was banished into isolation by Odin, it caused Hela to be both spiteful and vengeful, making her refuse any alternative beyond being a conqueror or a goddess of death, with her final acts of life being someone who destroyed her home because destruction was all she knew. This episode has a better, more unique story to tell than Hela and Wenwu fighting over the Ten Rings to see who can cause more destruction. Speaking of, if there’s one thing to complain about the episode, it’s how underutilized Wenwu is to the story. He’s actually one of MY favorite MCU villains and it feels weird that he’s just…kind of there? Most of the meat to the story goes to Hela, and I do appreciate it, but Wenwu could have done more than wanting to bone Hela or assisting her in fighting Odin. But aside from that, I’d still say that this is a fantastic episode that surpassed my expectations.

What If…The Avengers Assembled in 1602?: Of all the episodes, this is the one I was looking forward to the most. I’m a sucker for seeing characters in a different setting. They’re very much the same in terms of personality but their differences vary from positions in life or the skills they’re capable of. It’s no different here, as so much of this feels like a period piece fanfic where the writers seemed to have so much fun making the Avengers be in 1602. And I don’t give a shit if people hate her, I LOVE that Captain Carter refuses to leave this world until she saves it from complete collapse. It would have been the same if it was Steve Rogers, I get that, but how do you expect me to hate a hero who’s willing to fight with her last breath to save the world? Those are my favorite kind of superheroes! You want me to give up what I love most about superheroes just because you don’t like that the big buff lady fights King Thor and his vibranium thunder sword? F**k you.

Also, this comes with the added benefit of watching big buff Steve and big buff Peggy constantly being on the VERGE of wanting to rip their clothes off and f**k each other whenever they’re on screen together. And, honestly, I can't blame them. They’re both gorgeous. LET THEM F**K!

Overall, I had fun, even if there are problems. Sure, the reveal that Steve is indirectly the cause of this universe’s collapse is way too predictable, no thanks in large part to the trailers SPOILING IT! And it’s pretty weird that Scott can still shrink and grow. Like…How can he do that in this setting? Also, this universe has a merry band of misfits that’s similar to Robin Hood, and there’s not even a SINGLE Hawkeye in it? Not even Kate Bishop? COME ON NOW! Come on now…

But, yeah, this episode is the perfect epitome of what makes What If…? enjoyable to me. It can offer you a fun concept of having the Avengers be in 1602 and just ask you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Not everyone’s going to be into that, but I am and I could take ten more seasons of this if I could.

What If…Strange Supreme Intervened?: You want me to hate the big buff lady and new MCU character Kahhori fighting Strange Supreme and a whole gaggle of universe killers just because *checks notes* Captain Carter is a Mary Sue? F**k you. I don’t care if you feel like Captain Carter is forced upon you, she punched a demonic Doctor Strange in the face with the power of INFINITY. That is awesome no matter WHO the character is and if you can’t appreciate it, then I guess this show really isn’t for you. As for the finale, the whole thing is awesome as this big fireworks show to close out the season, added with Strange Supreme going back to the dark side for the sake of reviving his universe. I’ll admit that Strange Supreme had a bit of a forced redemption last season, so it is great for this finale to prove that he is, in fact, still twisted inside while allowing him to earn a more true redemption in making up for his actions. It makes his tragedy STILL feel like a tragedy, giving everyone but him a happy ending. And, again, he got punched in the face with the power of infinity. F**k all you haters, this show’s great.

Season Two is a definite improvement to Season One. Sure, the pacing is wonky, the jokes are trying too hard, and animation can look gorgeous at times but ugly at others. But the writing’s stronger, the concepts are bigger, the fun’s funner, and I got to see a woman punch a demon in the face with the power of infinity–I keep bringing that up because it is so damn awesome. And it’s the same with this show! It just fuels that part of my brain that wants to see cool, comic book shit happening. It’s not for everyone, I know that. It’s neither good nor bad, it’s just…subjectively fun. It’ll either light up your world or leave you wanting more substance than dumb fun. I enjoyed the hell out of this season, but others won’t for their own reasons (some of them being that they just hate Captain Carter). They can feel that way all they want. Still won’t change how I enjoyed the hell out of this season and look forward to more.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu reviews #captain carter #nova nebula #marvel what if #what if season 2 #kahhori #mcu the freak #happy hogan #mcu hela #hela #justin hammer #strange supreme #tony stark #iron man

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ask-the-shichibukai · 7 months

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OPLA AU: do you remember that masterpiece of live action history we saw in ep 5 when Captain Usopp entertained Mihawk with his tales for Oda knows how long in the Baratie? That's my totally-ignoring-the-timeline take on that.

Karaibari island (Crossguild HQ), 5 a.m, Crocodile's office:

Mihawk (carrying Usopp tied from head to toe on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes): Crocodile, I request you to enlist this young man in our ranks as the main source of my the crew's entertainment. Unlike the clown, he's actually funny.

Crocodile: Oh, really? So it's true what they say about you going around adopting idiots like a duck-mom. That brat you brought here even looks and sounds like a drunk moron, so why should I oblige your request?

Mihawk: Because if you don't I'll find another way to relieve my boredom that is not your precious organization. And then, just out of spite, I'll go free Doflamingo from Impel Dawn and send him your way.

Crocodile (still severely sleep deprived): You can't keep on using this threat to get me to agree to your whims forever, you bastard! (a glare contest and awkward silence later) Okay strawhat's brat, you can start tomorrow! But forget about any form of payment until you'll have thoroughly proven to me that you are not a fraud!

Usopp (still drunk): Ehh where am I? Why am I tied? Who are you guys?? Heeeeelp!!!

#opla verse #where Mihawk dragged Usopp kicking and screaming to an island in the middle of nowhere because Usopp is funny #Crocodile is NOT amused #THE 'for fuck's sake Mihawk it's the goddamn 5 am in the morning! Let me sleep! And stop collecting moronic strays!' LEVEL of not amused #opla #one piece live action #one piece #mihawk #crocodile #usopp #crossguild #cross guild #ask the shichibukai

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

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Captain Hook x F!Reader

Pairing: Captain Hook x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Alcohol, Sexual Themes Word Count: 2k+

Summary: You’re a stowaway on the Jolly Roger trying to escape your dull life. Little did you know you would be swept away by the dashing Captain of the ship-it was love at first sight.

A/N: As requested by @disney-girl67. I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You flinched when the lid to the barrel you were hiding in popped open. A wicked grin stretched across the bearded pirate’s face, his grimy teeth making you want to gag.

“Ello, love,” he sneered in a raspy voice. Before you knew it, you were being roughly dragged by your arms towards the Captain’s quarters. Several of the crewmates spat countless words at you or merely glanced as you were taken up the steps. The two men who carried you promptly threw you inside a spacious room, slamming the door shut behind them. You yelped when you nearly tumbled into the giant oak desk that stood in the center of the quarters. You slowly tilted your head up. The Captain’s raven locks curled and billowed around his shoulders, his one hand polishing the sharp hook that adorned his left arm. He seemed so tall as he stood with his back turned to you.

“Do you know what we do with stowaways, my dear?” he lilted, his voice dripping from his lips like venom. You trembled as you scrambled onto your hands and knees.

“N-No sir,” you swallowed. A dark chuckle cracked through the stale air as he placed his handkerchief into his pocket.

“We-” His charcoal eyes widened when he spun around. The wicked smirk that stretched across his face quickly dissolved, his lips tightening in a straight line. You blinked a few times. You’ve heard the tales of the dreaded Captain Hook, how utterly monstrous he was…and yet, you couldn’t help but deny the fact that you found him rather handsome. His prominent chin, sharp cheekbones and thin, long mustache all painted the picture of the dashing gentleman that stood before you. He suddenly coughed into his hook, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Well...usually we make them walk the plank,” Captain Hook said as he tugged at the collar of his clothes with his thick digit. You couldn’t help but notice the prominent blush that streaked across his face as he stepped closer to you. You backed away, a small amount of fear still puncturing your heart. You squeezed your eyes and ducked your head as he reached his hand out towards you. Your body relaxed when he gently patted your head, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“But for you, I’m sure I can make an exception...my darling,” Captain Hook said warmly. Your heart skipped a beat as his hand slid down to your chin, his fingers cupping underneath it to tilt your head back up. He looked at you softly, as if you were the finest gem in Neverland. “Pardon me, I don’t believe I got your name,” he hummed as he helped you to your feet. You played with the hem of your dress.

“I-It’s (Y/N),” you stammered. His heavy, leather boots thudded against the creaky floorboards as he laced his arm around yours.

“Miss (Y/N). What a lovely name for a lass like yourself,” he hummed. Your cheeks burned a dark crimson. Hook chuckled at your cute expression as he led you to have a seat on a maroon chez lounge. “And I suppose you know who I am?” he queried. You nodded.

“Y-Yes. Your Captain James Hook,” you muttered. He cracked a wide smile, the sound of his name on your lips soothing him like the sweetest rum.

“Clever girl,” Hook mused. “But you can simply call me James…if you wish,” he said lowly. You fiddled with your hands, your voice caught in your throat. He sat you down gently before barking for one of his men. Soon a rotund, older man named “Smee” came bumbling through the door. He panted before straightening his back.

“Y-Yes, Captain?” he stuttered, adjusting his glasses.

“Get Miss (Y/N) a pair of fresh clothes, and get us some rum while you’re at it,” Captain Hook ordered.

“Ay, Captain!” Smee said with a salute. He eyed you for a moment, giving you a small smile before slipping back through the door. The air seemed hot and thick as the Captain shrugged his coat off, hanging it atop his chair.

“I must say, my dear. You’re rather brave for stowing away on my Jolly Roger,” Hook praised. You watched as he placed his hat on top of his desk, the feather catching the light of the rising moon.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your hands clenching and unclenching. He turned towards you, eyes gentle yet hungry.

“Pardon me if this is sudden, Miss (Y/N),” Hook said as he stepped closer to you. Your breath hitched as he stroked your cheek with his rough, calloused hand. “Do you fancy me?” he asked. You trembled in his gentle hold like a rabbit. He studied you carefully, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Y-Yes,” you whispered. The man grinned as he knelt down to be face to face with you. His metal hook was cold against your skin as he brushed some hair from your face. Just as he moved forward to capture your lips, the door burst open. Smee gasped, nearly dropping the rum and clothes. Hook groaned, his brows furrowing and jaw clicking.

“I-I’m sorry, Captain!” Smee whimpered like a kicked dog. Hook rubbed his temples with his hand and metallic appendange. He said nothing as his second-mate scurried to place the clothes and rum near you before nearly tripping out the door. You bit your lip as you took the fresh pair of clothing into your hand. Hook paused before slowly turning around, not wanting to catch you in an indecent state...yet.

You were now clad in a merlot-colored dress, your shoes long forgotten and tossed aside. Hook cleared his throat before striding over to pour two glasses of rum, handing one of them to you. You observed the honey-colored liquid before taking a small sip. You coughed, the taste pungent and overwhelming. You quickly spat it back into your glass. The man stifled his laughter as he patted your back. You nearly choked again and his fingers trailed across your shoulder blades while he seated himself next to you.

He sighed, swirling his drink in the crystal glass before taking a full swig. You licked your lips as his Adam’s Apple bobbed while he drank. You gasped as he splayed his hand across your lower back. Hook sets both glasses aside before moving his hand down to your thigh.

"It's been quite some time since I've laid eyes on a beauty like yourself," the captain whispered, tracing your jawline with the end of his hook. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Something in you snapped, like a rattlesnake springing forward to strike. You suddenly found yourself straddling his lap, legs on either side of his. He chuckled softly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

“My, my, aren’t you bold?” Hook clicked his tongue as he looked you up and down. You were trembling again, this time from the warmth that flooded your entire body. Hook cupped your cheek in his hand as he pulled you into a deep, savory kiss. The taste of rum and tobacco laced the kiss, though it paled in comparison to how delectable his lips felt on yours. You pulled back after a few moments, mind foggy as your pupils blew in size. You rested your crotch on his lap, gasping at the feeling of his growing erection.

Hook groaned, his fingers digging into your waist. Your mind grew empty as you grinded down on his covered member. His lips found yours again as he bucked up into you. Both of you breathed heavily through your noses before he pulled away, his lips shiny with your saliva.

The captain silently picked you up, your legs wrapping around his torso as he carried you over to his large bed. You whimpered when his lips left yours as he placed you down on the plush mattress. You moaned as your neck was bombarded with kisses, squeezing your thighs as his hook latched onto the top of your dress. Your eyes shot open at the sound of tearing fabric, the cool night air hitting your exposed skin as your dress was torn in half. You went to cover up your breasts but he rested his hand and hook on your wrists.

“I want to see all of you, my dear,” he purred. You nodded, heart surely about to burst from your chest. You shuddered as he peeled your dress to the side, tossing it into a dark corner. You spread your legs for him, his clothed cock coming down to slot in between your thighs. You gasped and grabbed at his ruffled shirt as he grinded into you, his hard erection feeling too large to fit inside your tight hole.

His wet lips traced up and down your neck, suckling over your pulse while two of his fingers danced along your soaked slit. Heat rose through your core as Hook pushed his digits inside, savoring the feeling of wetness that coated his fingers. You leaned your head back and moaned as he trailed his hook across your perky nipples. He began to pump his fingers into your pussy, slowly, steadily. You bit your lip as your hips began to move on their own, chasing your high.

“That’s it,” Hook purred as he added a third finger. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your pussy stuffed to the brim as his thrusts became more eager. His hook traced circles around your breast while he bit and licked across your other one. It was all becoming too much.

“J-James, I’m gonna-” before you could finish your sentence, a white light flashed before your eyes. You arched your back as you came around Hook’s fingers. He growled as he watched you become undone below him, pulling his fingers out when your walls relaxed. Your mind felt dizzy from the orgasm as you blinked a few times.

“James, please, I need you,” you keened, your hands fisting the silky sheets. He groaned into your neck before stripping himself of his own clothes. You drooled and raked your hands down every dip and curve of his broad chest and rugged abs. You stopped just shy of the base of his cock, admiring the silhouette of his hard erection. Hook murmured something beneath his breath before guiding your hand down to your side. You bit your lip as he fisted his dick, grunting all the while staring at you with his dark, hungry eyes.

“May I take you, Miss (Y/N)?” Hook prompted as he hovered above you. You shivered when the cold metal of his hook traced along the side of your face. You nodded, eyes half lidded as you spread your legs even wider.

“Please,” you breathed as you fluttered your lashes. That was all he needed to hear. You gasped as he lined his tip to your entrance and breached your gummy walls with an audible squelch. You threw your head back as he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you like no man had before. He licked his lips.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You nodded, bucking your hips forward ever so slightly. Hook understood the message and began to pump in and out of your wet hole. You mewled when he pressed the pad of his thumb to your bundle of nerves, massaging it deeply and slowly, reflecting how he thrusted into you. “You’re so beautiful, my dear. So, so beautiful,” Hook praised. His words sent shivers down your spine and straight into your core.

You wrapped your legs around his lower back, pressing him impossibly deeper. The fat, mushroom tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each stroke across your walls. Every thrust became more powerful and feral as he suddenly gripped your thighs and pushed them forward. You moaned at the feeling of his hook pushing up beneath your knee, the tip nearly digging into your soft flesh. You wailed and moaned as he pistoned into your spongy g-spot, hands flying up to breach his shoulders. The pleasure was building and rising to the surface like a geyser.

“Yesyesyes,” Hook repeated as his balls slapped against your slick pussy lips, his cock drilling into you at an animalistic pace.

“JAMES!” you cried as your jaw went slack. He groaned your name as your walls spasmed around his length, his arms nearly buckling at the side of your head. Hook pulled himself out, stroking himself rapidly before he spilled his warm, thick cum across your exposed belly and breasts. Both of you panted, your voices lost to the pleasure that coursed through your veins. Hook quickly dove down to bombard your lips with rough, heated kisses.

“I love you,” he said quickly, eyes blown from his euphoria. You smiled and cupped his rugged face.

“I love you, too,” you cooed. It wasn’t long before you were cleaned up and asleep in his arms, his hook hanging over you protectively.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

#captain hook x reader #captain hook disney #reader insert #smut #fluff #love at first sight

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the-darkdragonfly · 2 years

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Tempest: A Captain Duckling Tale, Chapter One (again)

Hello friends!

As some of you know, I started this re-write earlier this year. I love this tale, but it wasn’t going the way I wanted it to and I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out. So! Instead of turfing it - which I did consider - I am decided to re-write this whole thing to line up with where I was actually planning on having it go in the first place. It’s a little darker and a whole lot better (in my humble opinion).

Some of chapter one is different, but the changes will really start rolling in for chapter two (and onwards).

I really hope you all like this and thank you for sticking around (please note - rating had been updated) and I truly hope you all like this new direction as much as I do.

Also - so many hugs to @elizabeethan & @donteattheappleshook for beta'ing this feral creature and helping me tame her into something much better ♥️

And now, on with the new Chapter One!

♥️♥️♥️

In the end, there wasn’t much on board worth salvaging, a few trunks and several bags of coin; standard fare. The crew made fast work of it, and it hadn’t taken more than a quarter hour to transfer the goods from the Revenge to the lower hold on the Jolly.

“Captain!” Smee’s voice rang clear in the now quiet night, cannons having stopped their unrelenting assault, the soft crack-hissing of the still smouldering fire from the Revenge’s forecastle popping in the background.

Killian turned, giving the first mate his undivided attention. “We’re missing Scarlet, sir.”

Of bloody course they were.

He barely contained his eye roll, as undignified as it was, and pushed away from the helm.

“Get her ready to set sail, I’ll find him.” He moved across the wide gangplank connecting the two ships, the Revenge now resting heavily on her port side. He took the stairs two at a time, the creaking of the hull ominous in the dark hallway.

“Scarlet!” He called, irritation colouring his voice, ears straining against the crackling of wood. He had been pulling the lad out from where he had no business being since he was the height of Killian’s hip, sallow faced and serious. You’re a pirate- Killian remembered his voice, sharp despite his size, ears too large for his head while the bruise on his face had bloomed into a dark shade of purple.

Killian had nodded solemnly before lowering down, his knee in the pool of blood which ran through the street- aye, I am that.

He had always had a soft place for children, the wide-eyed stares which reminded him so much of himself as he and Liam scrapped and survived despite the cruelness of men, had been unable to protect so many of them while under the service of Pan, he had done what he could for the ones he encountered along the way.

But this boy was different, and when he held out his hook, the lad took the curve of the metal, wiped quickly clean of the blood and gore which had clung to it from the skirmish on the street only moments before. Killian produced the small knife, having pulled it free from where the lad had lodged in the kidney of the man who had pulled a pistol on Smee.

The boy had followed him, knife tucked carefully into the leather pouch, trotting dutifully at his heels into the tavern and hovered safely behind the swirl of his long coat. A sharp exchange of words and a slash across the barman's face, rivers of blood on the polished wood, and the child was free.

The walk back to the Jolly has been a short one, but the boy's small stride had slowed them considerably- what’s your name, lad?- and as the sails of the Jolly came into view, crisp and white and pulling tightly on her lines like a beast ready for battle, he felt a small hand tug once on his jacket before curling itself around his hook.

They call me Scarlet, ‘cause of me mum.

♥️♥️♥️

Read the new & improved Chapter One here on A03

Tag List (let me know if you would like to be added!):

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @xhookswenchx @justanother-unluckysoul @itsfabianadocarmo @zaharadessert @jadehowlettthewolf @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @yikes-00 @midnightsuki

#tempest #a captain ducking tale #the darkdragonfly #killian jones #emma swan #emma x hook #emma x killian #captain swan #once upon a time #a rewrite in progress #sassy pirate will scarlet owns my heart now #there will be baths #dont act surprised

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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—rum, fighting, and pirates

SUMMARY | you really need to stop letting jack get involved with bar fights

PAIRING | jack sparrow x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 600+

WARNINGS | violence, drinking, all around piratey things

AUTHORS NOTES | hm. would you look at that. another man for me to be gay for. well i'll be

🥃 MASTERLIST 🥃 NAVIGATION 🥃 RULES 🥃

You knew better. Of course you did. You had been sailing with the crew of The Pearl long enough to know when to pick and choose your fights, albeit through lots of trial and error. Which would be all fine and dandy—if Jack Sparrow wasn't your captain.

You're really not sure how any of this happened. One moment you were sitting at some dingy bar in Tortuga with rum clutched fervently in your hand—Jacks arm resting drunkenly on the top of your head while Gibbs and your other crewmates flapped their gums about some tall sea tale. And the next, you were crouching behind a bar as various objects whizzed by your head, the drunkest man in the pub directly next to you—who just happened to be your captain.

Next chance you got, you would have to talk to Jack about who and who not to punch in the face, no matter what they were saying about his hat.

That talk would preferably be held far away from any rum on hand.

Far, far away.

"You know—" Your words were cut short as a broken bottle nearly grazed the top of your head, resulting in an impromptu string of curses to slip. "—sometimes I think the only reason you ever come ashore is to look for some new people to piss off."

"It would hardly be a trip int' land without a bit of action darlin. Otherwise why would I ever leave th' sea." Jack grinned, winking at you in response as the yelling continued from over the cover of the bar.

"A refill?" You shook an empty bottle of rum in his face for emphasis, his grin turning into a comical pout as he twisted his neck an unnecessary amount to stare into the empty container. The warped glass turned his brown eyes into an unnatural golden color, like the sun on the horizon, which confused you for noticing.

"You make a fair point love." He slurred. "What's to say we steal as much rum as these ol' arms can carry and make for The Pearl, aye?"

"I'm fine with anything that involves us getting out of here at this point." You sighed with faux exhaustment. Jacks grin only grew exponentially at your words, jumping up out of excitement before ducking back down as a wild candlestick knocked his beloved hat off.

"Ah." He blinked. "Forgo' bout that."

You laughed at the look on his face, picking up his hat from the floor and placing it crookedly on his head with a ruffle of his hair. "Yeah. I can tell. Now let's get out of here before they notice all the drinks are gone, alright?"

"I like the way you think, love." His eyes glittered with mischief as the two of you rounded up what you could of the booze and the crew, running out the pub's doors with what was soon to be an angry crowd hot on your heels in pursuit. But this was Captain Jack Sparrow. Nothing could catch him and his crew.

You supposed this was the day those people would never forget. The day they let Jack Sparrow and his right hand man (Y/n) get away.

#pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean x reader #pirates of the carribean x you #pirates of the carribean x y/n #jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow x you #jack sparrow x y/n #potc #potc x reader #potc x you #potc x y/n #x reader #one shot #fanfiction

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spidermannotes · 3 months

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Two Massive DC/Marvel Omnibuses Coming this Summer

Covering around 25 years of DC/Marvel crossovers, the two comic book giants are giving fans young and old the chance to appreciate classic characters together in memorable tales.

Press release:

The vast and varied history of DC versus Marvel returns to print for the first time in decades with two massive volumes collecting the universe-bending comic book crossovers between the greatest characters in pop culture! These fantastic stories, originally co-presented by the two powerhouse comic book publishers, have been highly sought after and hard to find for most readers—but they’re making their return in DC Versus Marvel Omnibus and DC/Marvel: The Amalgam Age Omnibus,both publishing on August 6, 2024.

Who would win: Superman versus Spider-Man? Batman versus Captain America? The X-Men meeting the Teen Titans? DC Versus Marvel Omnibus collects crossovers between the core DC and Marvel characters, from 1976’s Superman vs. the Amazing Spider-Man to 2000’s Batman/Daredevil. Included are stories from some of comics’ most revered talents, namely Dennis O’Neil, George Pérez, Dan Jurgens, Chris Claremont, Walter Simonson, J.M. DeMatteis, Mark Bagley, Gerry Conway, John Romita Jr., and more. DC and Marvel fans alike can’t miss these thrilling pieces of unearthed comic book history!

DC/Marvel: The Amalgam Age Omnibus features stories, first told in 1996, of the two superhero universes fused together into a new Amalgam Universe, combining DC’s and Marvel’s heroes, villains, and mythologies. The result was a series of unforgettable one-shot comic books starring the likes of Dark Claw (Batman and Wolverine), Super Soldier (Superman and Captain America), Iron Lantern (Iron Man and Green Lantern), and many more! These stories, from creators such as Peter David, Dan Jurgens, Mark Waid, Dave Gibbons, Ron Marz, José Luis García-López, Gary Frank, Bill Sienkiewicz, Claudio Castellini, and more, represent one of the most fun and unlikely periods in comic book history, and now are available in one omnibus. Included in this volume are the historic DC Versus Marvel miniseries and its sequels, perfect for fans of both DC and Marvel!

DC Versus Marvel Omnibus collects Batman/Captain America #1, Batman/Daredevil #1, Batman/Punisher: Lake of Fire #1, Batman/Spider-Man #1, Daredevil/Batman #1, DC Special Series #27, Darkseid vs. Galactus: The Hunger #1, Green Lantern/Silver Surfer: Unholy Alliances #1, Incredible Hulk vs. Superman #1, Marvel and DC Present Featuring the Uncanny X-Men and the New Teen Titans #1, Marvel Treasury Edition #28, Punisher/Batman: Deadly Knights #1, Silver Surfer/Superman #1, Spider-Man and Batman #1, Superman vs. the Amazing Spider-Man #1, and Superman/Fantastic Four #1.

DC/Marvel: The Amalgam Age Omnibus collects DC Versus Marvel #1-4, DC/Marvel: All Access #1-4, Unlimited Access #1-4, Bat-Thing #1, Bruce Wayne: Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. #1, Bullets and Bracelets #1, Challengers of the Fantastic #1, Doctor Strangefate #1, Iron Lantern #1, Legends of the Dark Claw #1, Lobo the Duck #1, Speed Demon #1, Spider-Boy #1, Super Soldier #1, Thorion of the New Asgods #1, X-Patrol #1, and more, plus a treasure trove of behind-the-scenes material.

DC Versus Marvel Omnibus (9781779523259) and DC/Marvel: The Amalgam Age Omnibus (9781779523266) will both be published on August 6. The two volumes will each have a direct-market-exclusive cover available only in local comic book shops, while supplies last.

#spiderman #superman #batman #comic book #news #notes

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kingofthe-egirls · 11 months

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FOX TALES: LUFFY/OC

fox tales

(cw: boyfriend luffy, oc, kitsune oc, food mention, self-indulgent kitty lore, dirty talk, sex mention, hand holding/kissing, no sex)

***

“Where did you learn about sex?”

You ask your captain, sitting crosslegged on the beach in front of you. You were sharing a scratchy woven blanket, spread out over the sand. The Sunny had docked at a small summer island, and Nami decided you had all earned a well-deserved beach day.

Luffy reaches into the picnic basket beside you. “I dunno,” he says, rummaging through the chips and sandwiches Sanji had packed for you two. “Ace told me a lot of things.”

“Really?” You ask, arching an eyebrow. You knew about your boyfriend’s brother, how he had wielded fire like a sword and shield. You knew your captain’s heart had been broken in half, the day he left. You reach out to touch Luffy’s knee. “Like what?”

“Hm,” Luffy chews with his eyes screwed up in thought, “Like how you’re supposed to treat girls, when they’re in your bed. He said they’re really sensitive, like cats, so you hafta pet them all slow and stuff.” He reaches into the basket for another hefty sandwich. He eats it in one bite.

“Am I like a cat?” You ask, tilting your head.

“You’re a vixen,” he corrects, playfully boxing around your ears. You duck, giggling.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him away, “What else?”

“Hm…,” he’s quiet for a minute as he thinks. “That you have to be gentle, but they wanna get fucked hard, sometimes. So you gotta ask,” he wipes the crumbs off his chin with the back of his hand. “Do I do a good job?”

That was an understatement.

“Aye, captain.”

He smirks, and turns back to the waves. You sit in silence for a while, watching the water play along the shore. You take a deep breath, settling into the calm of the sea.

“Am I good?” You ask eventually.

Luffy nods vigorously. “Oh, yes,” he grins, grabbing your hand. He places a small kiss onto your knuckles. A brush of lips, a dusting of affection that shoots sparks through your chest.

“I love you, d’you know that?”

The words come unbidden from your mouth, and tears start to prick at your eyes once you’ve said them. You’ve never said that out loud to anyone, before.

Not since—not since you left home.

But that was a long time ago.

Luffy appraises you with grey-storm eyes. “I know. I love you too, Kit.”

Something tangled in your chest begins to loosen, and your breaths come quick and heavy. Oh, oh god—

“Thank you,” you whisper-hiccup, curling into his side. Your arms go around your chest, pressing hard against your ribcage. Your sobs come in ragged breaths. “So much, for loving me. I don’t…I don’t think I can every repay you,” your voice cracks and you stop. Luffy lets you heave against his chest.

“Don’t have to,” he says simply, warm arms rubber-wrapped several times around your waist. He tucks your head under his chin, and rocks you gently side to side. You both breathe in time with the waves.

“Snack?” He asks you, waving a salty potato chip in front of your face. You giggle, and take it with your teeth.

“Good girl,” he grins, and reaches out to grab another from the bag. He feeds you like that, til there’s less than half the bag left. Once you sit up, no longer leaning against him like he’s the trunk of your favorite tree, he grabs the bag for himself to tip what’s left directly into his mouth. He crunches on his chips with a monkey grin, pleased with himself.

“I got kicked out,” you confess out of nowhere. Guess today’s the day for revelations, you think. “From my home. My mom and dad—they had a plan for me. To get married? To this fox-prince. But he—,” you gulp, “He wasn’t in love with me. He wanted—he wanted to use me, I think…,”

Your tears are bubbling up freely now, and you stare at your blurry hands as they fidget in your lap. Luffy is serious, regarding you with a steady calm you’ve only seen in battle. You hiccup, and continue.

“I was really in love with mortal men,” you say, fiercely quiet. Rage bubbles up in you at the memory. “And my mother hated that. She wanted me to stay in the spirit realm, and stay as the wife of this spirit-prince,” you wrench your face in disgust.

“I wouldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. It felt like there was someone holding me down by the shoulders, keeping me trapped.”

Luffy nods, expectantly. You swallow, and push a lock of hair back from your face. He comes over to tie it up for you, coming over to kneel behind you in the sand. The sun had started to gleam crimson, dipping down into the sea like a strawberry slice. You could hear your friends from far off, sounding like they were about to start a bonfire.

Luffy cards his fingers through your hair, the charcoal strands now kept more wavy than tangled. He takes the red ribbon he’s started keeping at his wrist for you, tugging at the beaded knot gently until it comes loose. Strong, steady hands start to brush the hair from your face. He scoops the front of it back, then ties it in a sloppy bun behind your head. The rest of your hair tumbles down beneath it around your waist. He pets over the dark gray waves, humming.

“So pretty, vixen,” he murmurs into your hair, “What happened next?”

You take a deep breath, leaning back against his chest. Your tails are a fluffy blanket around the two of you.

The pirate king’s kitsune, Luffy had once called you, announcing it to the world in a declaration of pride. You had blushed, then, hiding behind your hands.

But then Chopper had tugged on your pant leg, and you peeked at him between your fingers.

“It’s really cool,” he had said in an awed whisper.

Now, you feel a tiny spark of treasure start to wink in your chest. The pirate king’s…you think, rosy warmth blooming across your cheeks.

His.

“I ran away.”

You kick your toes in the sand, staring at your feet with Luffy squatting behind you. “I ran away and I never looked back.” All those years of crying youth…

“I got caught, by a trapper. But then I found the portal-portal fruit. It was blue.”

“Mine was purple.”

“It tasted awful—,”

“Mine too!!”

You laugh, caught off guard, and turn to face your boyfriend. He’s sitting cross-legged in the sand.

“But anyway, I had to get away from this trapper, so I ate the fruit and portalled outta there. And that’s how I got to the house with chicken legs.”

Luffy hums. That’s where he had found you.

“How long were you there?” Before I came, he doesn’t say.

“Three years.”

“Ah,” he nods, “I took a break like that. Two years training on an island with Rayleigh.”

“The haki guy?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, scooting closer to your sunset-gold captain. His black hair waves a bit in the sea breeze. You tuck a lock of it behind his ear.

“Human ears,” you say, softly. He turns his head to catch your palm against his lips.

“Fox ears,” he flicks at your fluffy, pointed ears. You twitch one out from beneath his touch. He grins.

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #one piece #fox tales #kitsune #kistune oc #kistune lore #one piece oc #one piece angst #one piece smut

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analogwriting · 4 months

Text

Childhood Crush

Chapter 21: Lithium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2k a/n: got another 241 for y'all next

“You really should rest, y/n.” You look up from your clipboard at Wire who was currently in the doorway with a deep frown on his face, clearly worried about you.

You were currently on the ship Momonosuke had provided for you. After the vivre card had burst into flames and you were able to move again, there was a small sliver of paper left in the palm of your hand. You had placed it into a small glass box and used it that way. You couldn’t risk losing the paper, especially knowing that something terrible had happened to your brother.

You were a wreck the whole way there. Countless scenarios racked your brain with the possibilities of what happened. The amount of stress you had was off the charts. You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. What happened? Your brother was obviously alive but what about everyone else? How much longer would your brother be alive? Just how far was he? Just what happened?

The vivre card didn’t burn anymore, but it was glowing on the edges. That meant he was alive, but he wasn’t doing well. He was hanging on by a thread. You only had his vivre card though, so everyone else, you had no idea how they were. You had no idea who was alive, who was dead - which you hoped to fuck was no one. You were so stressed, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with an ulcer or ten. You had no idea what happened, no idea his condition. Just a tiny piece of paper that you hoped wouldn’t burn anymore.

Luckily, it didn’t.

You ended up finding them on some small island. You had laid anchor and went into the jungle-like part of the island. You were basically sprinting through the foliage. Did they get attacked by a wild animal? No, that couldn’t be it. Your brother wouldn’t be overpowered by something as simple as wildlife.

You had reached a clearing where you saw everyone looking worse for wear. When they saw you, their faces lit up as if they had seen a god.

Though you were focused on something else. You were focused on the two that were currently looking like they were dead on the ground. Eustass and Killer. The only tell-tale signs that they were still alive was your brother’s vivre card and the unnatural twist of a smile that was on Killer’s face. You had found out when a SMILE fruit user died, their smile finally disappeared.

You had never been so relieved to see that haunting expression.

You immediately went to work patching the two of them up and stabilizing them before moving on to everyone else. Then, you loaded everyone up on your ship and set sail. It was safer than being sitting ducks on an island. Besides, based on what everyone told you with what happened, the island was close to where the battle was, so feeling the scene was a good idea. People wouldn’t know your ship either, so hopefully people left you alone.

“Y/n?” You were pulled out of your thoughts once more as Wire spoke again. “I’m fine,” you said and he just looked at you, folding his arms.

“We all know you’re pants at lying, just like the captain.” You made a face and sighed. He was right - you hadn’t slept in days, you weren’t eating. You were just so worried. Even before you found them, you hardly ate or slept.

Wire sighed, shaking his head. “It’s like a watchpot. Just cause you’re sitting here watching over them, doesn’t mean they’re gonna heal any faster. You also can’t properly take care of them if you’re not in the right state of mind,” he said. You looked at him, narrowing your eyes and frowning. You folded your arms, pouting a little bit. He was right, but you didn’t want to admit it. Damn, he was starting to sound like you. When did he start getting all wise?

You looked over to where the two were currently resting. It had been a week at this point. They’ve both been out the whole time with no signs of waking up. Their injuries were healing, luckily enough. It took many hours of operating to really make sure they were stable. The amount of broken bones and stitching you had to do - if you never did it again, it’d be too soon.

“I…I feel like if I stop to catch my breath, I might never breathe again,” you mumbled. You were just scared that if you rested now, you wouldn’t be able to find the motivation to get back up again.

“You’re a good doctor, y/n. They’re stable. It’s not going to hurt if you get some sleep. We’ll take turns keeping an eye on them.” Wire looked at you with a face full of concern. This wasn’t the first time he had tried to get you to sleep and you knew he was going to just keep pestering.

With a sigh, you stood up, looking at your clipboard once more.

“Just because you look at it again, doesn’t mean it’s going to change, y/n.” You glared at the man across from you. One of the cons of growing up with someone on the crew meant that he could see right through you. “We’ll come and get you if anything changes. Promise.”

You looked at him a moment longer before sighing. “Fucking-” You tossed the clipboard on to the desk and sighed. “Fine!” You threw your hands in the air and marched out of the room. Due to your lack of sleep, you were a bit more irritable even with Wire’s smooth way of speaking. You headed down the hallway and to your room.

You didn’t think you’d get any sleep but the moment your head hit the pillow, it was lights out.

When you slowly came to, you noticed you were having a hard time moving. You were also very warm. It took you a moment to wake up and when you did, you realized you weren’t the only one in your bed. In fact, just about everyone was in bed with you or around you.

You blinked in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. It was dark outside, the moon peeking through the pothole, illuminating the room slightly. You let your eyes adjust before trying to move. You were currently in a mess of limbs. You realized that Dive was curled up into a ball into you as she usually did, but you also had Heat wrapped around you. You also happened to realize your cheeks were damp. Were you crying in your sleep?

You carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake up the two in bed with you. Usually, you were a light sleeper. Were you really so tired that you didn’t notice everyone joined you for bedtime? Everyone else was scattered about the room, various snores and patterns of breathing filling up the room. Sure, the ship wasn’t spacious like the Victoria Punk had been, but there were plenty of other places to sleep.

After some careful footwork, you made it out of the bedroom and back down the hallway. You needed to check on your patients. You paused in the doorway, seeing Wire sitting at the desk stitching up something. He looked up as he saw you. “You’re awake.”

“What are you working on?”

“Eh, just working on something to pass the time.”

“How long was I out?”

“I’d say about ten hours.”

Your eyes nearly fell out of your skull with how wide your eyes became. Ten hours? You couldn’t remember the last time you slept that long in one sitting! You usually tossed and turned, getting four or five hours at most. But ten? That was insane!

“It makes sense considering you’ve been running on fumes the last few days. I can only imagine that you also didn’t sleep on the way here either. I’m surprised you didn’t keel over already or out for longer.”

You felt your face heat up at Wire’s words. Had you really been that bad? “Yes. You were that bad and you looked like a walking corpse.” You just glared at him. Alright, smart ass.

“I just woke up, can you ease up a little?” You ran a hand through your hair and grumbled. Wire just smiled at you, standing up. He walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder as he passed. “Well, I’m going to get some shut eye now. Make sure you eat something, okay?”

You yawned and nodded. “I will.” Honestly, you’d probably end up forgetting.

You quickly went to work, checking on the two unconscious men. You needed to take their vitals and run some tests. The vivre card was no longer smoldering and even seemed to regain some of its paper; and that smile was still on Killer’s face.

This was honestly the fucking worst. Two of the most important people in your life on death’s door and you were the last line of defense. You were up against the grim reaper himself. Things looked promising, but you knew better. You knew that shit could hit the fan at any moment and they could no longer be with you, but you weren’t about to roll over and let it happen either. You’d wrestle with the grim reaper himself if you had to. Hell, you’d probably trade your own life.

“Why did you have to go and pick a fight with Shanks again, dammit,” you mumbled, looking at your brother. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and groaning.

You heard something come from your brother and every fiber of your being froze. You looked over at him slowly, eyes widened. You noticed his hands twitching slightly as well as his features. In an instant, you were at his side. You moved some of his hair out of his face to get a better look at him.

You watched as his face scrunched up. “Bigs?” he mumbled and you felt your eyes start tearing up. “Tungsten?” Your voice cracked halfway through the word, but you didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the fact that your brother had said something.

All the fear of what happened was hitting you at once. The tears started falling and showed no signs of stopping. You sniffled, wiping your tears away; well, attempting to. You watched as Eustass slowly opened his eyes, they seemed to struggle to adjust for a moment before fully opening. They weren’t particularly focused on anything before they fell on your face.

“Bigs?” he repeated, a bit louder this time. You nodded, smiling through your tears. “I’m here, mo laochain,” you said softly, using the old nickname you had given him a long time ago. The one in your native tongue. A tired smirk spread across his features as he let his eyes close again.

“C‘Mon, Bigs,” he mumbled. “‘M not little.” He let out a single scoff. It was a small noise, but you smiled all the same. That’s what he had told you one day when you used the nickname. Since it had meant ‘my little hero’, he didn’t want to be associated with being little anymore, so he had said those words. That’s when you had started calling him ‘Tungsten’ instead. Only, he’d always be your little brother. No matter how much larger he ended up being than you. He would always be little to you.

You buried your face in his chest and held him as he laid there, placing his hand on your head as he gently soothed you while you cried. Much like you had done for him so long ago.

#the last bit is what made me cry the other day bc im just an emotional wreck and i miss my own brother lmfao #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #am fics #cc

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angelmavmurdock · 2 years

Text

*Lock & Key: Part Eight - B.B.

WARNINGS: slight smut, angst.

"Honey, just so you know before you get a surprise in training today...I'm grounded. Permanently."

Your Dad had told you that this morning. You were not happy about it. You tried to give your Dad some 'fuck them' advice but he didn't seem 100% on the same page.

You had a few days on bed rest, recovering as best as you could. You attended Iceman's funeral with your Dad, all dressed in uniform and having to keep as professional as possible which you and your Dad both agreed hurt like hell. You saw Rooster and the rest of the gang at the funeral, giving him a weak smile. He furrowed his brows, as if to non-verbally ask if you were okay.

You only nodded to them all when you walked past them, and they all nodded back sympathetically. Your eyes lingered longer on Rooster and he didn't break eye contact with you until you had to turn to the front.

And now, it was your first day back in training with only a few days to go till the mission. You didn't want to listen to Rooster. You had to fly with the rest of the team. It was a must. You weren't going to miss out on the opportunity of a life time.

You walked into the classroom, looking at the team around you all chatting before class started. Your eyes fell to Rooster first, who straightened his posture when you walked in, and then you saw Phoenix who was running up to you and embracing you before you could say hello.

"Locket, nice to have you back." Fanboy said.

You hugged Phoenix, ignoring the groans in your spine when your arms moved around her.

"Thanks, Fanboy." You smiled, looking around the room at everyone.

Phoenix pulled away and you walked with her, claiming the empty desk behind her, second to the front. You leaned against it and looked up, noticing how Rooster was in front of you. His desk was opposite yours. Typical.

He had his arms crossed and a slight smile on his lips. You hadn't seen him since the day in your hospital room. You wanted to tell him about your Dad being grounded but you were sworn to secrecy about things like this, so you had to keep quiet.

"Attention."

You all stood at attention at the sides of your desks and stared forward as Admiral Simpson walked down the aisle. You chewed your lip nervously and accidentally caught eye contact with Rooster. He did that same concerned look that he always did, immediately knowing that something was wrong. You subtly shook your head as if to say, 'it's fine'. He knew you were lying.

"At ease." Simpson ordered.

You all sat in your seats. You sat in the aisle seat and Rooster sat in his aisle seat - a tell-tale sign that something was about to go down. You were both on edge.

"Good morning, all. There has been a change in your training. Captain Mitchell will no longer be teaching you; I will."

You clenched your jaw and curled your hands into fists, and you could feel Rooster's - and everyone else's - eyes on you. You just kept looking forward. Simpson looked at you then looked away quickly, as if he was scared of you.

"You will be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the North wall. It's gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

Everyone was looking around at each other in confusion, and you could still feel Rooster's eyes burning into the side of your head.

"We'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles." You heard Payback mutter behind you.

You dipped your head. You were frustrated because you couldn't do anything about it. Simpson was going to shit on this mission and you couldn't tell him otherwise.

Frantic beeping sounded on the screen in front of you. Everyone looked up, seeing a red dot flashing on the GPS simulator screen.

"What the hell is that?" Simpson muttered.

You looked to Rooster and he looked to you, both sharing a confused look.

"Maverick to range control."

Your eyes widened, Rooster's doing the same. Your mouth dropped open and you looked to the screen. The dot moved solidly now.

When you said to your Dad to 'fuck them' you didn't mean do this.

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying to disguise a smile. You felt your heart beating in your chest.

Come on, Dad.

"Entering point Alpha. Confirm green range."

"Uh, Maverick? Range control, uhh, green range is confirmed. I don't see anything scheduled for you, sir."

"Well, I'm going anyway."

"Nice." Phoenix commented, looking to you.

You smirked at her, a swell of pride flowing through you.

"Time to target: Two minutes, 15 seconds."

"Oh shit," You uttered under your breath.

"2:15? That's impossible." Cayote said.

"File attack point. Maverick out."

The whole class – including Simpson – looked to you. Your mouth hung open; your eyes wide in anticipation as you watched the screen. You looked to Hangman, and he nodded subtly, giving you a sign to show he was there for you. You looked to Phoenix and Bob who gave you the same supportive look, and then to Rooster. Who gave you a simple blank expression, but with the same glint in his eyes that let you know he was all there with you.

You gulped and nodded, reassuring yourself everything was going to be fine, and turned to the screen again, adjusting yourself in your chair.

You all watched intently at the screen, as you saw Maverick's dot scoop in and out of the GPS simulator. You were clenching your jaw so hard; you were surprised you didn't crack a tooth. It was tense in the room, and you couldn't imagine how it must be for your Dad.

He made it through the first miracle with no issue at all, and he inverted down to the target site where he got a bullseye with his shot. He managed to get up in under the targeted time and you all jumped up in joy as he finished.

You stood up with everyone, your hands clamped over your mouth and your heart beating out of your chest.

"Holy shit." You kept repeating to yourself under your breath.

"Everyone is dismissed." Simpson growled in frustration, striding down the aisle and out the door with purpose.

You cringed a little, knowing that something was about to go south between him and your Dad, but you were so proud of him you couldn't really think about anything else.

"Oh my god, he did it." Hangman said, turning to you with his hands on his hips.

You smirked and giggled, taking your hands from your mouth. Payback grabbed your shoulders, shaking you a little.

"He did it!" Payback exclaimed.

"If he doesn't get back as an instructor, this place is rigged and I'm out of here." Cayote commented.

You nodded, "He has to."

You turned to the screen, "There's no way they can let him go after that."

---

You were back at the house, waiting patiently for your dad returning from base. He had been gone a while, which could mean he's either fired or he's still got the job. You sat on the couch, scrolling through various social media's on your phone, unable to concentrate for more than five seconds on anything.

When you heard the revving of a motorbike, you shot up out of your seat. You dropped your phone on the couch and walked around to the back of it, in front of the door, to see him as he comes in. You fiddled with your rings, chewing your bottom lip in angst as you saw him through the window getting off of his bike.

You felt as if it was your job on the line you were so nervous. You watched as he went to go up the stairs of the porch then you lost sight. You took a deep breath and your heart stopped for a second when he walked in.

He looked a little surprised at you standing there, and then he relaxed his shoulders. You still couldn't tell if it was good news or bad news.

"Do you want to help me get ready to tell Penny goodbye?"

Your heart sunk. He was fired. You couldn't believe it.

"Dad, I'm-"

"Because I'm leaving on the carrier tomorrow with you all, so I'd like to say a quick goodbye." He said with a smile.

Your breath caught in your throat, nearly choking on how hard you gasped.

"What?!" You exclaimed.

"They still want me for some reason." He joked, closing the door behind him, and dropping his bag at the door.

You ran and embraced him, not caring about any back pain you had. He chuckled into your shoulder, while you held onto him. You were ecstatic.

"Everyone will be so happy, Dad. No one wanted to do this mission without you." You said, pulling back from him.

He nodded in the way he did when someone complimented him, and he didn't know how to take it; averting his eyes to the floor and smiling.

"Proud of you, Dad." You smiled, tapping his shoulder and walking to the couch.

"Oh, and yes I'll help you get ready."

---

You and your dad decided to walk to the Hard Deck instead of bike because he didn't want to get his white uniform messed up. He looked so smart, and your heart fluttered for him because you knew how in love he was with Penny and how much she'd adore his gesture.

When you reached the bar, it was busy per usual. You knew the rest of the gang were here, too as they were having their pre-mission night out. You both entered the crowded and noisy building and gave him a quick squeeze on his arm for some reassurance. He nodded to you with a smile as you turned to walk towards the group.

"Locket, is that Mav?" Phoenix asked as you walked over.

Everyone looked to your dad standing proudly in his uniform, waiting for Penny to turn around.

You nodded, "Yup."

Phoenix huffed, "He cleans up nice."

You gave her a look of slight disgust and she backed down, giving you a wink. Everyone was standing around the usual pool table, Hangman, Cayote, Payback, and Rooster all playing together.

Bob and Phoenix sat with each other, and Fanboy watched the game intently. You sat on a barstool next to Bob and watched the game. You felt eyes on you, and you knew exactly who's pair they were. You didn't want to look up at him in his stupid Hawaiian shirt that he could somehow pull off and the white wife-beater that bore his sunglasses. You knew that once you locked eyes, you'd be done for.

You were wearing jeans and a tight, black, top that hugged your tits perfectly without having to show them off. You had your heeled ankle boots on and your hair was down in its natural form.

"How's the back, Locket?" Cayote asked, before taking his shot.

You sighed, "It's better, actually. It's not fully healed but I don't really care."

"You're flying with us tomorrow, right?" Phoenix asked, popping her head forward past Bob to look at you.

"Yeah, because I don't want to be stuck with Phoenix." Bob joked, elbowing Phoenix in her side.

She rolled her eyes and you smiled at them. You could now feel the burn of Rooster's eyes on you. You knew he didn't want you to fly. You clenched your jaw and cleared your throat before speaking.

"I'm flying tomorrow. I have to." You said.

A loud clack of cue balls sounded, and everyone turned to look at Rooster who had taken his obnoxiously loud shot.

"Who's going to be Mav's wingman then, huh?" Fanboy asked, taking a sip of his drink.

You looked to your father who was beaming as Penny walked to him through the crowd. You smiled to yourself and felt your heart warm inside.

"I actually have no clue who he's going to pick." You said, still watching him and Penny.

Hangman scoffed, "Come on, Mitchell. We all know who it's gonna be."

You watched them as they left the bar together and you turned back to Hangman. He stood with the pool cue on his hand, the same cocky look on his face he had when he met you and the stupid toothpick in his mouth.

You scoffed and squinted your eyes at him.

"It could have been you if you didn't leave everyone out for dry constantly. It could have been you if you actually gave a shit about the team; and it could have been you if you were just genuinely nicer but no. You're not. So, there's no chance in hell you're going to be his wingman." You spoke harshly, telling him exactly what you thought.

Bob giggled and stamped his feet up and down on the barstool. The rest of the gang except from Rooster oo'd and ahh'd at the response. Rooster stood at the end of the table, a hand on his hip, a hand holding the pool cue, and a slight smirk on his lips. Hangman did not look impressed.

"Locket, again, speaking nothing but the truth. Apart from the fact that I'm the only one here who could actually make it to the target in time." He looked to Rooster, but his eyes didn't budge away from you.

His stare was locked on you from the moment you walked in. Now, you were finally looking back. You had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Was he mad? Was he impressed?

"Shut up, Bagman, Rooster is the only one who has ever made the target with his full team intact." Phoenix said.

Hangman held his hands up, "Fine. We'll just see tomorrow who's actually got the guts for the job. And out of the two of us, Rooster,"

Rooster side-eyed Hangman, not even giving him the satisfaction of a full glance.

"It's going to be me."

Rooster rolled his eyes before Hangman shoved the pool cue into his chest. Rooster caught it before it could fall, and Hangman left to go up to the bar.

"Jesus Christ, there's too much testosterone in this room." You commented, standing up from your seat and brushing off your jeans.

"I'm with you on that one," Phoenix added, holding her beer bottle up in agreement.

"I'm gonna head outside for a bit." You told the group.

You walked past the pool table and got to Rooster, where you looked up to him and held eye contact while you passed. You felt as if you were in slow-motion, watching his deep, chocolate, eyes following you until he physically couldn't. You passed him and headed out the back door to the decking, breathing in his fresh scent as you passed.

You walked to the wooden railing and leaned your forearms on it, looking out over the beach. You reckoned your Dad and Penny would be back at your house so leaving wasn't really an option but you felt so overwhelmed with everything.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time and your brain was on overload. The crowded, sweaty, loud bar wasn't doing you much help either. You hadn't processed the accident, or your injury, or Ice's death. You felt an immense pressure to be there for your dad, and worrying about him, and also showing up to training and being the best you could be. And then Rooster – Bradley – getting put on top of all that was just so much. You were thinking of just going a walk yourself to clear your head and to kill time before going home.

"Hey," A voice spoke behind you and your attention shifted.

Your whole body turned with the sound of his voice like clockwork. And when you saw him standing by the door of the bar, a soft expression on his face and his hands in his pockets, your body relaxed.

"Hey," You replied quietly, leaning back against the railing.

Rooster walked over to you, and stood next to you, so you were both looking through the windows into the bar.

"Where's your dad?"

You sighed, the air huffing up to your hair and blowing it out of your face. Rooster smiled at you.

"He's telling Penny his goodbyes. In true Maverick style." You said.

"Ah. I see. So, you're not going home any time soon?" Rooster assumed with a cheeky smirk.

You rolled your eyes, "Not unless I want to hear my dad fuck someone, no."

Rooster shook his head, trying to erase the imagery from his head. You both stood in silence for a while, watching as your friends had a good time inside. It was weird seeing everyone in their casual clothes and less hair-gel.

"How are you?" You asked Rooster, looking at Hangman.

"I'm...fine. Nervous."

You nodded, "I get that. But you're the best pilot here. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"I don't know."

You turned to look at him, "Don't let Hangman get into your head, Rooster."

He looked down at you while you spoke, a look on his face you hadn't seen for a while.

"You are the most capable here of pulling this mission off. I'm telling you that as a pilot, not as a friend. You're going to be his wingman; I can feel it." You told him, settling back onto the railing.

He nodded appreciatingly, "Thanks."

You slowly spun to rest your arms on the railing again, looking out to the calm beach. The tide was far out, and the sun was setting in pinks and golds. Rooster took a deep breath and exhaled, catching your attention.

"Wanna walk with me on the beach?" You asked him.

You didn't look at him. But you felt his head turn to look at you. The intense warmth of his eyes on your face as you looked out.

"Sure."

---

"You dated Hanson? Aka Hands-On?" Rooster asked with a cringe look on his face.

You kicked water at him with your bare feet, your boots in hand and your jeans rolled up to your knees. Rooster had done the same, his shoes were in his left hand and his jeans had been rolled up as well. You had been walking leisurely along the beach for about fifteen minutes, and you had just started getting more comfortable. You hadn't spoken about the kiss, and you didn't know if you should. Rooster brought up dating in the academy and was curious to who you had been with.

"Yes, Hanson, okay? He got that name after me. But it did explain a lot." You sighed with a smile, remembering the pilot who loved smacking your ass and grabbing your thigh a lot when you were together – and not in a way you'd usually enjoy.

"Damn, y/n, that's bad." Rooster sucked air through his teeth.

You nudged him with your arm, "Come on. You must have dated someone pretty bad."

He was quiet and you looked up at him. He looked to you and pressed his lips together, silently indicating that you were the bad person.

"Oh my god," You groaned, rolling your eyes.

"That's rude, I was nothing but lovely to you." You laughed, looking down at your feet in the upcoming wave.

You felt your face heat up slightly and you didn't want him to see you blushing at the mere thought of your short romance that happened nearly a decade ago. It was pathetic how you were around him and you still had no idea why he had such an effect on you.

"I'm kidding. You were the best girlfriend I've ever had." He said with a chuckle.

Your heart and stomach shouldn't have fluttered at that, but it did.

"So, come on. Tell me about your wild and exciting dating life as Bradley Bradshaw." You prompted with a smile.

He sighed, "It's been neither wild nor exciting. I've had one girlfriend since you."

You paused, your feet nearly slipping with how quickly you halted. You watched him as he kept walking, not noticing your abrupt stop until he couldn't feel your presence beside him. He turned and looked at you, cracking a small smile.

"What?"

"You can't be serious." You held a hand over your mouth.

He sheepishly walked back to you, "I'm serious."

"Come on," You scoffed, not believing him.

There was no way that Bradley fucking Bradshaw had only one girlfriend since you. There was no way. You knew what he was like, now. He was a player, and it was known amongst pilots – especially female pilots – that he got around.

"I'm serious." He said with a chuckle.

"You- you've only had one other girlfriend? When was that?" You asked, your curiosity peaking.

He thought about it for a second which gave you another warning sign that it was not a recent affair.

"We got together 3 years ago, and it only lasted a year and a bit so...I've been single for 2 years basically. And before then I had been single until her." He told you.

You felt an odd feeling. Like you were somehow the cause of him being single. You also felt guilty, considering you had dated a few guys since Bradley.

"But...why?" You asked.

Rooster sighed and shrugged, continuing to walk on. You followed him and caught up to his slow speed, walking beside him and eagerly looking up at the side of his face for an answer.

"I don't think I really ever got over you." He said, blankly.

His voice was low, like if he deepened his voice it wouldn't have as much weight. But it was the opposite. You felt that sentence to your core and it smacked you in the face.

You know that feeling you get when you listen to a song that is so stupendously relatable that your soul connects to it and your stomach has this feeling of longing and satisfaction almost. Because you feel understood and seen for once. That's exactly how you felt when Bradley said those words.

"I...I didn't know-"

Bradley scoffed a laughed, "That's a lie."

You scrunched your brows together, "No it's not. I had no clue you felt like that."

He shook his head, "You're such a liar."

You stopped again, grabbing his stupidly strong bicep and forcing him to turn to you. You looked up to him and scanned his face. The night sky had turned from gold to a deep blue; the type of blue that would only be there for a few minutes at most, before the sky turns dark, and black. The moonlight and the last dregs of whatever light came from the sun, shone on his face, adorning him in a beautiful light.

You admired him, looking into his intense, dark, eyes and his broad shoulders. Your arm was still viced onto his bicep.

"I had no idea you felt like that towards me, Brad." You said, softening your voice.

He scanned your face like he was scanning for lies. You felt his arm twitch a little.

"You knew how I felt about you." He stated as if it was public fucking knowledge.

"Yeah in high school, maybe. I thought you fell out of it when I left." You told him, your hand still on his arm.

For some reason you didn't want to take it off. You needed the physical connection right now and he had his arms crossed over his chest so it felt natural.

"I never fell out of it with you. Ever. I didn't actually date for five years because I was so goddamn in love with you."

Your heart fluttered from your chest, and it made your breath go uneven.

"And...and this girl you dated?"

He looked away from you for a second, giving you a small break from the intense eye contact.

"She was a bartender in Hawaii when I was based there. I was still getting over Mom and everything so...she was there in that weird period."

Your hand dropped, along with your stomach. Your hand slid to his forearm.

"She was pretty, and kind, and everyone loved her. But when it got to becoming more serious, I flipped out and bailed. I honestly can't imagine myself in a serious relationship. I don't think I'm cut out for it."

You scrunched your eyebrows together as if in protest of what he was saying.

"That's not true, Bradley." You shook your head.

"And how did we work out?" He retorted.

You gulped at his response, "That wasn't your fault. I don't think it was the right time."

You took your hand from his arm and started fiddling with your rings on your opposite hand. You weren't expecting to have this conversation any time soon, let alone the night before possibly the biggest mission of your life.

"I fucked it up for us because I was annoyed at you for leaving."

"You didn't fuck it up, Bradley, I fucked it up. I was too stubborn to call you or write you that I just didn't-"

"Don't do that, y/n," He said, beginning to walk off, the waves lapping at his feet.

"Rooster-"

"Don't take the blame for something that was so obviously not your fault. I was a complete asshole to you at prom and then I took your virginity and told you to fuck off the next day. Don't take the blame for us."

You attempted to start multiple different sentences but not one came out. He wasn't exactly wrong about the situation, but he definitely remembers it to be a lot harsher than you remember it to be. For you it was heart breaking and soul crushing and even this conversation is bringing you back to that time in your life and all the feelings were flooding back.

Rooster kept walking, rubbing his forehead as if he was attempting to erase the memories from that night. You followed him, still giving him a bit of space as you walked.

"I don't remember it like that, Brad. That night was the best night of my life and I'll always think of it that way." You told him.

He shook his head and started walking up the beach, away from the water. You huffed and continued to follow him, trying your best to keep up with his steps in the sand. He was somehow getting through the sand quicker than you were and he was metre's ahead at this point.

You groaned, nearly falling over, "Rooster!"

He turned around and stilled for a moment when he saw you lose your balance, your arms flailing to keep yourself upright. But once you had settled, he walked backwards, waiting to hear what you had to say.

"I'm not lying to you." You stated, out of breath.

"It feels like you're trying to make me feel better over a shitty situation."

You threw your hands up and they came back down, slapping against your jean-clad thighs helplessly.

"Am I not allowed to do that? I do want to make you feel better over the situation because you've come up with this narrative on how it was all your fault when it wasn't! We were both there, remember?" You spoked as well as you could as you continued to climb up the sand.

You watched as Rooster turned and finally got his feet on solid ground, dusting his feet off and putting his shoes back on. He was silent, kneeling to the ground and angrily shoving on his shoes. You were getting pissed off now. He was being an ass.

"You know what, Bradshaw?" You scoffed.

Your feet finally hit the same solid ground and you chucked your shoes on the concrete. His eyes lifted up to you when he heard his last name. It was never a good sign if you called him that, and especially not in that tone.

"I know you've had a pretty rough fucking life, okay. But I'm here, standing in front of you, telling you that what happened nearly 10 years ago between us, wasn't your fault. We were young and stupid. So don't get all pissy and annoying about how everything was all you – because it wasn't."

He had paused the tying of his laces as you spoke.

"I made a lot of mistakes with you and there has not been a day that has went past since the day I left, where I don't think about it. Where I don't think about you. And being here, having to be around you, has been pretty difficult. And you know what, it's been super difficult for Dad, too." You said, still attempting to catch your breath after the walk up the beach.

"And I don't know why you're in such a mood with me now because you're completely contradicting the other day in the hospital."

His body tensed and you could see it. He looked up at you and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach seeing him from that angle.

"You mean a lot to me, okay? You always have. And I don't think I ever got over you, either. So can you just tell me what's really wrong so we can sort this out and get on with tomorrow? Please?" You pleaded, out of breath and emotionally exhausted from just the conversation.

Rooster took a second before standing up, towering over you. You now looked up at him, his deep and dark eyes looking down into yours with such emotion you still couldn't tell what he was feeling. You felt a heat radiate from him and you couldn't tell if it was an angry kind of heat or not.

"What's really wrong? You want to know what's really wrong, Mitchell?"

Shit. Angry kind of heat. You got last-named, too. Which was not good.

He was so close to you, the anger, the energy, was so intense that your breath was quickening, and your cheeks were flushing with colour.

"What's really wrong is the fact that I don't think I've ever loved anyone else in my entire life. And the problem with that is that I had to live with never getting to see you or touch you for ten fucking years. And now you're here and we're together all the time, and I haven't had a clue how to act around you because you're still the girl I fell in love with when I was a kid, and you'll always be that to me. I'll never see you just as a friend and it physically pains me that we can't be more."

Your words rushed out of your mouth before you could process any words that came out of his – except from the last sentence.

"We can be more, Brad, that's the whole point of this. I want it. I want that with you." You said, grabbing the edges of his open shirt and fisting them in your hand.

"How is this ever going to work, y/n? We're both pilots. We're both away all the time and we'd never see each other. We'd constantly be worried, and I can't lie – I think the reason I've not had a true serious relationship is because I'm scared."

You gulped, watching his eyes as they looked glassier the more and more he spoke. You felt a burn in your nose.

"I'm scared of losing someone else. I lost Dad, I lost Mom, I lost Mav, and I don't think I could ever handle losing you."

"Rooster, you'll never lose me. I'm always going to be here. It's been ten years and we're back together, are you telling me that's not a sign?" You scoffed a laugh, attempting not to tear up.

He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"We could literally die tomorrow, y/n. Tomorrow."

"It's just another day at the office, Brad." You whispered, a smile on your face.

"You nearly...you got hurt the other day. I don't want you going up there if you're not ready."

"I'm ready. I'm okay. We're the best fucking pilots here, Brad. We'll make it no problem."

Your grip was still firm on his shirt, not wanting to let go until you had finished the conversation on a high.

His eyes found yours again and he examined your face with a clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows like he was checking if you were real for a moment.

His hands came up and slid to cup your cheeks. You sighed with relief and closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of his rough hands on your skin.

"Hey, look at me." He said, his voice hushed.

You opened your eyes slowly to look back up at him. His eyes darkened, and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. You swear you could hear his heartbeat quicken.

"This is it, alright? This is it." He told you.

You nodded along with him, your fists gathering more fabric from his shirt into your hands.

"I'm never lettin' you go after this, y/n. Never." He shook his head.

He cradled your face as you shook your head along with him. Your bare feet tapping and fidgeting on the ground beneath you, wanting – needing – him to just kiss you already. You were desperate for it. For him.

"You're it for me. You hear me? This is it. I'm never looking at another woman again. You are it for me."

You nodded ferociously, "Yes. Yes. You're it for me. You're all I want, Brad. You're all I want." You said breathlessly.

Your whole body was having a reaction you've never had before. He wasn't even doing anything amazing; he was just standing saying all of these amazing things and your heart – and your hormones – couldn't take it. You felt hot all over, and you needed him to help you.

"Please, baby, please. Kiss me." You pulled on his shirt, desperately trying to get him closer to you.

"Call me baby again and we have a deal, honey." He smirked, his hot breath fanning over your lips.

You could have smacked him with the cheek he had but you were too desperate for him.

"Rooster. Bradley. Baby. Kiss me." You practically whimpered, tugging on his shirt.

His smirked dropped, like he was serious now. All he could think about was you in this moment. His hands slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to him until your lips ghosted over one another's. Your breath's mixed, creating a tantalising and needy moment between the two of you. Once this path was crossed, you'd never go back. You smiled ever so slightly at the thought of it.

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, as if teasing you. And then he slipped his bottom lip between yours. You held your breath as you kissed him. It felt so juvenile; like it was your first kiss all over again. Uncertainty with tension and so much emotion you didn't know what to do with it.

He pulled back for a second, "Can I-"

But his lips were back on yours again, soft, and delicately kissing you.

"Can I take you home?" He asked in a whisper, maybe even a whine.

You finally let your breath go, like you had been waiting on him asking you. You flattened your hands on his shirt, letting your palms roam his chest.

You sighed, a moan threatening to escape your lips as he peppered kisses down your jaw to your neck and just below your ear. You nodded, feebly at first, but as he kept pressing small and light kisses to your burning skin, the contradiction started to become too much.

"Take me home," You whispered to him, your hands tightening on his shirt again.

He paused and looked at you with dark eyes, his hands leaving your neck to slide down your sides. He abruptly and swiftly swiped his hand under your legs, the other resting around your waist. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Luckily for you, we're only a few steps away from my house." Rooster said.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever, Rooster." You grinned, brushing a hand over the back of his hair.

His eyes flashed an emotional look, glancing to your lips and back to your eyes again.

"Show me the way home, honey." He smiled.

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