#as i was making a full set of the pilot i had to stop and turn this into a set by itself cause she looks so stunning here

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Hello, can we have Blitzø, Husk, Rosie, Sir Pentious and Valentino(separately) as a couple, it seems that he is cheating on him but in the end it turned out that they misunderstood him, how would they react to his mistake with his S/O?

Misunderstanding

Blitzø

Blitzø sat in his van, as he had for the past hour, a scowl across his face.

He'd followed you from the Cafe you always went too, then after seeing you on the phone he followed you all the way to some random ass fucking building.

He watched as you knocked, the door opening to reveal some Imp hunk, and you eagerly greeting the guy before walking in, you wrapping an arm around each other.

He was pissed.

But not just regular pissed.

He was Royally Pissed!

But more than that... he was hurt. Really hurt.

The Imp drove home depressed. Anger. Fury. Sadness and regret all sloshing around in him like too much BeelzaBrew. The Imp analysing your entire relationship.

He thought you had a happy relationship. Sure you fought, but it was never anything serious. And you always had the best Make up sex.

He drove around, with no real aim, his body on auto pilot. Just driving. Mindlessly. Completely unsure what to do.

He'd go home, of course after stopping by a drive through liquor stire, the man stumbling into your shared apartment, the man walking in before freezing.

Your calendar...

Marked on the calender was fucking (ANNIVERSARY). And sure enough, checking his phone, it was today.

Blitzø had a full breakdown, drunkenly crying as he curled up on the couch, the poor Imp crying his eyes out between heavy swigs of alcohol.

About an hour would pass until you got home, suspiciously large package in your arms.

You snuck into the apartment, getting everything set up until you found him curled up on the couch, the man grasping a bottle, with even more scattered about, the man sadly blubbering to himself.

Youd approach him, reaching out. "Babe, are you alright?"

He'd slap your hand away, man jerking up on the couch, the man glaring big sad daggers at you.

"Well, if it isn't the big faaaaat cheater!"

He was clearly drunk off his ass, so the accusation of cheating wasn't as painful as if he were sober.

He'd stumble to his feet, jabbing his finger at you. Or rather, in your general direction.

The Man was drunk off his ass.

"Ooooh yeah. Everybody thinks the Blitzø is some sorta, Uh... dumbass man!" He burped, man snifling. "But iiiiim noo a foul..."

You give him a minute, ignoring his verbal typos, before reaching out again, telling him gently.

"Blitzø. I think you need to sleep off your little drinking session before we talk."

But as soon as you placed a hand on his shoulder, he'd smack it away, and with the most righteous fury you'd ever seen in the man, screamed at you.

"I FUCKING SAW YOU WITH HIM!"

The man stumbling back tears in his eyes. "I saw you with that fucking bastard... I saw... I saw you..."

You stood there for a good minute before sighing, you telling him softly. "Wait here."

Youd walk into the kitchen, flipping the light on to reveal the humble spread you'd put out. And grabbing the 'package' carried it over to him.

The large 'package' was covered by a cloth, you placing it down before him, telling him simply.

"Open it."

Blitzø stared at you before looking down at the package, the man glaring daggers at you before reaching out and snatching the cloth off of it.

It revealed a magnificent portrait of Blitzø, the Imp riding a Hell-Stallion.

Blitzø's eyes bulged, the man staring dead at it for a solid minute, the man not even noticing himself dropping the bottle.

Youd set down, pulling him into the seat besides you, you taking his hands in yours.

Holding his hands you'd tell him softly. "The man you saw was an art teacher. I've been seeing him to learn how to paint."

You spoke slowly, making sure he heard you.

"I know we don't normally go big on Anniversary gifts, but I wanted to do something special, so I took some lessons so I could paint that for you."

Blitzø took a minute, looking between you and the painting before he burst into tears, the man pressing his face into your chest as he tearfully apologised.

"IIIII'mmm soooo soooorrrryyy!" He sobbed, drunkenly clinging onto you.

"I- I- I- didn't mean to!" He stuttered, blubbering. Youd just hold him close, gently patting his back as he sobbed into your chest.

You just soothed the poor man, hugging him close as he had his drunken meltdown.

He'd quickly cry himself out, soaking your shirt and apologising all the while, you just telling him it was alright, gently patting his back.

Eventually he'd pass out, man out like the dead, you carrying your drunken idiot of a S/O to bed, making sure to be prepared fortyhe inevitable hangover.

And sure enough, the next morning Blitzø endured a awful hangover, though even as he groaned and threw up he was still profusely apologising, the man feeling even worse when he saw the painting and everything you'd set up for him.

Of course, you didn't care, you were just happy the situation was resolved peacefully, you tending to your poor idiot of an S/O. Letting him curl up with you on the couch as he slept off his hangover, making sure he drank plenty of water, hand running down his spiky, bald dome of a head.

Husk

Husk felt miserable.

And the most surprising part about it, was that he was miserable.

Since you'd arrived at the hotel, he'd been in significantly better spirits. But for the past couple weeks you'd been disappearing for long swaths of time, often staying out till later in the evening.

Husk wasn't an idiot.

And while he did try to drown himself in alcohol, knowing fully well he couldn't die of liver failure.

Though he had lowered his drinking significantly since your arrival into his life, the man actually, and it was hard to say but, you'd made him a better man.

But he wasn't a stupid man.

Back when he actually cared about people, he'd been cheated on plenty, though that may have been mostly his fault as he'd always put too much attention on his drink, rather then those people he cared about. Something he had tried to change with you.

But you still found someone better...

He wasn't surprised. The drunk of a tomcat was a poor excuse of a partner.

He'd be slumped over the bar, as usual, drunkenly grumbling to himself, man downing a bottle of what he hoped wasn't paint thinner as he laid there in his drunken brooding.

The man grumbled, rubbing his eyes as tears stung his eyes, the man wondering what was wrong with him.

Why did he always lose everyone he loved?

Youd walk into the Hotel, approaching the man, in relatively good spirits. Seeing him splayed out, drunkenly grumbling to himself, you grew curious.

Walking over, youd pull up a stool, you sitting there for a long minute before you started getting concerned, so you reached out, placing your hand on his.

Husk jerked up, you jumping back in surprise.

Husk stared at you, you asking him simply.

"You alright babe?"

Husk just stared for a long, pregnant moment. Before looking away, the man sighing as he slumped forwards, man wiping his face.

He'd stand there for a fee moments, not looking at you, only for him to ask bluntly.

"What did I do...?"

You stared at him, not sure I'd you'd heard him correctly, so you asked.

"You alright-" though you didn't get to finish as he blurted out.

"What did I do?!" He snapped, man almost in tears. "What did I do? What did I fuck up?!?!"

You stared at him, genuinely unsure of what was happening.

Youd wrap your hand around his, asking him bluntly.

"What are you on about baby? What did you do?"

Hunker diiiiidnt like that response.

The man yanking his hand out of your grasp, whipping away from you, the man wiping his eyes.

"What did I do?!" He snapped. "Why wasn't I good enough for you?!"

At that things slowly started to connect.

"Baby... do you think I'm cheating on you?"

Husk paused, thinking 9ver your tmstatement before turning and staring at you.

"Your... not cheating on me?" He asked, the cat caught of guard.

You, with a gentle smile, shook your head, telling him. "Nooo baby, I'm not. I'd never cheat on you."

Husk stood there for a moment before bringing up your regular absences, the long stretches you'd spend out of the hotel.

To which you'd sigh.

After a moment, taking your seat, you'd tell him that you weren't cheating. You explained that you'd just met an exe from before you'd died. You weren't sleeping with them, but you had been spending time with them.

Not for sex but just... just to remember when you were alive. When life was good and you were in your prime, back on earth.

You apologised for keeping it a secret. It was selfish but it was kind of your escape from the constant shittyness that littered Hell, something to block out the horrors you witnessed on the daily.

You apologised for hiding it. Holding his hand tight as you sincerely apologised for not telling him.

Youd tearfully tell him you loved him, and that you were so sorry for making him think you didn't.

At this point it'd be a completely intoxicated Husker that would comfort you, the man pulling you into a hug. A hug you'd eagerly accept, you tearfully promising to never make him feel like that again.

Pulling him close before you'd share a kiss.

Said kiss would grow rapidly passionate, you eventually ending up behind the bar, you straddling the cat, the two of you pulling off manoeuvres that would make Angel Blush.

And in the end, all worked up and steamy, you'd curl up with each other behind the bar, the Kitty cat holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

Needless to say it was awkward when Charlie found you both the next morning.

The situation not helped by Angel whining about missing out on the whole thing.

But with your tomcat close by, the both of you sharing a blush as you all pretended what had most definitely happened, did not happen, well, at least you had each other.

Rosie

Rosie wasn't one to beat around the bush.

She'd wait for you at the entrance to your home, the Amazonian sized demoness, sat back in one of her beautiful sitting chairs, the sort you'd find in a Victorian manor, just waiting for you, teacup in hand.

And upon walking into your shared home, shed confront you.

"Well Hello darling, you've been out a while."

She spoke coldly, you immediately knowing you were in the shit.

With a timid smile you'd begin. "Hello dear, your up late!" You spoke, trying to hide your rapidly growing anxiety.

Rosie didn't lighten up, the lady in red telling you bluntly. "You smell like cigarettes." He leaned back, a scowl crossing her face. "And you reek of alcohol."

He'd place her cup down, frowning deeply, black pools glaring at you.

"Where have you been (Y/N)?"

Your face would contort into an awkward smile, you scratching your kneck as you released an awkward laugh.

She didn't laugh.

Instead Asking bluntly.

"Why are you laughing!?" She snapped. "You think this is some kind of joke?!"

"Running around, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, returning at all hours of the night." She snapped before looking away, growling out. "Do I mean so little too you?"

At that you snapped to attention, gawking for a second before blurting.

"You think I'm cheating?!"

You blurted, rushing over to her.

"Baby! Sweetie! Love of my eternally damned afterlife." You reached out, cupping her cheek. "I am not cheating on you."

Rosie staring down at you, asking gently.

"Then what are you doing? Why are you out at night? Why do you reek like cigarettes and alcohol. Why have you been so secretive before disappearing all night?"

At that you sighed, nodding your head.

"Rose, my love, I have a confession." You began, running a thumb over her cheek. "Put simply, I can't drink any more tea."

You sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

"What?" Rosie asked, clearly bewildered.

"Rosie my love, I love you. I love our home. And the aesthetic. And all the pottery and plating and all that stuff. But well, I've been going to a sports bar."

Rosie paused, clearly confused.

"Baby, I miss TVs. I miss modern, mass produced comfy couches. I miss the depleted unsustainable economy of a life you probably never saw."

"I miss cheap beer and overly salty peanuts and wings smothered in addictive sauce." You sighed, almost shuddering.

Rosie sat there for a moment, clearly confused before asking bluntly.

"If thats all it is, then why all the secrey darling?"

You gave another awkward smile, scratching your head. "Well, I know you don't like the 'false decadence of a unurned age of self indulgent walfwits', and I don't want you to, I don't know. I didn't want you to feel like I was choosing the cheap, crapy food and drink over you."

You finished solemnly, looking to the floor.

Rosie, seeing this sighed, reaching out before pulling you in close. "I'm sorry for thinking you were cheating darling."

You chuckled, telling her in turn. "And I'm sorry for not telling you darling. I promise, I'll be more honest from now on."

Rosie chuckled, and you leaned in for a kiss.

Before your lips met however, she pressed a finger to your lips, telling you bluntly.

"I'm not kissing you while your breath stinks of beer and cigarettes."

To which you broke into laughter, stumbling to your knees, head in her lap, giggling away.

"I love you Rose baby~" You purred, looking up at her.

Rosie just smiled back, running her hand through your hair.

"I love you too darling... even if you are an idiot."

The both of you breaking into laughter, you simply laying there, a pleasant mood filling the air.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was a mess.

Bottles of wine were strewn about his airships sitting room, the snake man sobbing as he drunkenly gulped wine from a bottle.

He'd wipe his face, forearm already soaked through with tears.

"Why doth you need to be a loutous betrayer!" He yelled.

It was perhaps his most unique quirk. The man liking to incorrectly imitate old Shakespearian speech when drunk, often saying thing that sounded almost right, but most certainly weren't.

Hed lay there, wallowing in self pity for who knows how long until you'd finally find him. Having searched the house you'd find the empty wine rack, already knowing something was wrong.

And while you'd already checked every place in the manor before, the trail of wine bottles had given his 'sactuary' away.

Youd knock on the steel door before gently sliding it open.

"Hello dear..." You began, staring at the wiggling mass of snake that splaid out before you. "Is everything alright?" You asked softly.

The snake snapped towards you, grabbing you, before throwing you onto the fainting couch he had splaid out.

Youd blush as he drunkenly scowled.

"Ooooooh~ like you don't know!" He drunkenly slurred. "Like you don't know why I'm drinking, you and that *hic* man... that bastard you've been seeing."

To which you'd stare at him, blushing as he leered over you.

Rubbing your face, you'd sigh, leaning forwards and gently cupping his face.

"Penty... he's a tailor." You sighed softly. "I'd never cheat on you."

You finished, but the snake simply stared at you for several moments, processing.

"Tailor... but what about all the... well I saw you undress?" He stated, conflicted.

Youd sigh, gently slipping out from under him ast you stepped out of the room.

Pentious would gulp down the rest of his bottle before you stepped in.

Youd be wearing a rather skimpy, of seductive, version of his outfit. The piece just covering enough to be seen in public, though obviously meant for the bedroom.

"I uh, I thought it'd be fun for... ya know... the bedroom~"

Pentious, red faced, smirked. His body recoiled, priming for a strike, and with the finesse of a heavily intoxicated snake, he snatching you up once more, throwing you onto his bundles up tail, his long lower form gripping you, holding you down.

"Well... I guess I've got to punish you~" He purred, leaning in.

"P-punish me?" You stuttered, face flushed as the man pinned your arms above your head.

Pentious smirking, face flushed lightly as he leaned in, hot breath on your neck as he purred.

"Of coursssssse~" she hissed, tongue flicking your neck. "You run around, scaring me to death~ Making me think the worst. "

His hands ran down your chest, tail sizing as it held you down, leaning in close before smirking, hot, wine tainted breath on your neck as he suddenly bit you.

Youd moan, the man injecting just enough venom to get you high. A speciality of Pentious', the man having used his vemon on your more then once~

But now, he was smirking, domineering you with little effort, tail bound, venom high, he'd trail kisses down your body, kissing you all over.

Youd be at his mercy, the man teasing, torturing you with the promise of pleasure, making you submit to him.

By the end of the night, you'd be a quivering, gasping and moaning mess, Pentious smirking victoriously as you lay besides him, face red, bite marks littering your body as you softly moaned and writhed in pleasure.

With a sadistic smirk covering his face, your legs wrapped around his snake hips, he'd lean in, whispering as he always did when in control.

"Don't worry darling... I'm not halfway close to being done with you~" He purred.

Valentino

Valentino was not happy.

You were deceiving him. Lying to him.

And that could not stand. He was out of the loop. And he hated being out of the loop.

Well that wasn't entirely true.

Truth was, you were telling him you were doing one thing, while you actually did something else.

Though he want sure why you bothered with the deception. He had more informants and eyes then anyone in Pentagram.

Well, except maybe Vox, man had eyes in almost every damn device in Pride, so he probably had him beat in that department.

But well, he knew you'd done something involving your anniversary. More then likely relating to a gift for him.

Though he'd intentionally not found out what it was, the man still liking some surprises in his life.

He'd watch you "sneak" into his penthouse, you smiling and giggling like an idiot. The man smiling as he watched you 'sneak' into his penthouse, covering something in your coat

"Welcome home darling." He spoke smoothly, smiling as you froze in place.

Youd turn suddenly, hiding thr gift behind your back.

"H-hey! Val! Baby! Didn't, uh, I didnt know you were home." You spoke awkwardly, scratching your cheek awkwardly.

You smiled a broad, awkward smile.

Val held back a smile, flushed with adoration, but couldn't express it, not wanting to let you on.

"I know." He spoke coldly, snuffing his cigarette before standing, you shrinking under his imposing form.

Reaching into his coat, you leaned back, eyes closed, expecting the worse.

"Happy anniversary sweetheart."

Opening your eyes, you'd find his hand extended, a white box with a big red bow atop it.

Staring at it for a moment, you'd look up at him with a cocked brow. The man simply smiling back, giving a little smile of his own.

Suddenly it snapped into place.

"OH!" You gasped, almost jumping in place.

Holding the present you'd turn rigid, before slumping, looking down you spoke glumly.

"Oh... Well... I'm guessing you know what this is then?"

Val just chuckled, reaching out and cupping your chin. "A gift. Anything else? I'm in the dark." He finished smoothly.

Youd release a relieved sigh, hand to your chest. Looking up at him you'd smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek before looking down at your present.

"Here, hold this." You told him, holding the present out to him.

Taking it from you, he watched as you turned around, lifting the rectangular present up, before carrying it into the other room.

When he tried to follow, you'd call back. "Nu-uh! No peeking! I'll tell you when you can come in."

To which he just chuckled, rolling his eyes as he leant against the door frame.

And so, standing there for a minute or two he'd wait for you, hearing you as you scrambled around, something glass shattering, your little mumbles and curses making him chuckle.

And so, after some waiting you'd call out.

"Come in."

After which hed step in, looking around the room until he spotted something on the wall. It was obviously your gift, covered in some sheet.

And so, turning to you, he'd give you your gift again, which you subsequently placed down, eagerly leading him to your gift.

Normally, he would have taken great insult at that, but given he was as interested in seeing your gift, as you were excited for him to see it, he decided to let it slide.

And so, with an eager nod from you, he'd tear the sheet off, the man stupefied.

It was him. Or well, a painting of him, and a handsome one at that. It was him sat back, his ever present luxurious coat complementing his stern face as he smoked a cigarette.

He stared at it for several moments before he turned to you, you utterly shaking in excitement.

"Do you like it?!" You asked, almost bursting at the seems.

"No." He spoke bluntly. He let it hang in the air for just a moment. Before reaching an arm out, he'd twirl you into his grasp, the man planting a deep passionate kiss. "I love it~"

Hearing it your smile came back in full force.

"Well that's good, cause I painted it." You spoke with a goofy giggle, puffing out your chest all proudly.

Now that took him off guard.

The man showing a rare flash of surprise, as he snapped between you and the portrait, That flash of surprise enough to make you giggle up a storm.

"Yyyyyep!" You grinned. "All those 'outings' were lessons. Been seeing this professional artist for lessons and now-"

You turned proudly, smiling at the present.

"I think I did the source material justice."

Val stood there for a minute, before the man scratched his cheek, telling you in a playful voice. "Well, for once I think my gift is outclassed."

Hearing that you'd release a gentle snort, rolling your eyes.

Picking up his gift, you'd step forwards, gently cupping his cheek. "Dont worry baby, its from you. I know ill love it."

Val smiled, gently kissing your palm as you pulled back, letting you open the gift.

It was a small red box, the words 'Love you forever~' etched into the top, the smooth rosey wood that expensive kind of glossy.

Opening said gift, you'd find a rather beautiful golden locket, the simple gold heart having the words 'My Love Forever~'. "Oh, babe, it's beautiful." You gushed, hand to your chest.

Val stepped forwards, still surprisingly meek as he took it from your hand, binding it around your neck before pulling up up, holding it in his palm as he showed it off. The man easily opening it open to reveal images inside.

The left was a beautiful image of you and Val in a loving embrace, you recognised it from one of your first dates. It was a good memory.

And in the right, well, let's just say it was a raunchy image of a very undressed Val, the man smiling a very Val like smile.

And so, clicking the locket closed, you smiled, taking his hand in your own.

"Ya know... I've been wanting to do one of you in your 'natural glory' for a while now~" you spoke, making sure your intention couldn't be missed.

"But first." You began, grabbing his fuzzy collar, pulling him towards the bedroom. "But first, I think I need some... physical refrences~"

Val, simply smirked, man shedding his coat as you made it to the bed, where the two of you... tried out some positions for your next piece.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #hazbin hotel #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss blitz #blitzo x reader #rosie x reader #rosie #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #sir pentious #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino

[desert-fern]

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 1 - The Seal in the Bar

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*the GIF belongs to @unicornships , but I found it on Pinterest for some reason*

A/N: So here we are! I am absolutely blown away by the response that my teaser generated, holy shit! And because you all seem to love Bear as much as I do, and because you crazy people have brought me to over 100 followers in 2 days, I figured that I would release Part 1 sooner than I planned!

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death (kill count and maybe a few other things), Jake being a flirt (which is it’s own warning)

Word Count: 2.5k

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Teaser >> Part 2

===

It was a miserable day when Jake walked into the Hard Deck. Training had been canceled due to shit weather and no matter how much of a workout he had had earlier, he was still as nervous as a scared cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The weather wasn’t helping either. It had been raining nearly all day, letting up for maybe 20 minutes at a time before it came pouring down again. Climate change was a serious concept, but right now it was fucking with his plans and his job and Jake very much wanted it to stop. Taking a quick glance around, he saw that there were a few patrons in the bar, mostly older men just sitting and drinking in near silence, the jukebox playing some classic rock song just loud enough to be heard. He had promised to meet Coyote here around 5 and seeing as he was early, Jake went ahead to order a drink. “Hey Penny.”

“Hangman,” Penny replied with a smile. “Your usual?”

“Nah, not drinking tonight. Too antsy. Just a water and Javy’s usual, thanks.” The blond glanced around the room as Penny went to grab his drinks and his eyes fell on a woman sitting quietly in the corner of the room, silently watching each and every person in the bar with an almost clinical gaze. His curiosity got the better of him and Jake grabbed his order before making his way over to the corner table. “That seat taken?” He asked with his usual sly grin on his face.

The woman glanced up at him, eyes flicking over him quickly before quirking a brow. “And what if it was?” she replied coolly, a narrow gaze pinning him to the spot. She took a sip of the drink in front of her, eyes never leaving his face.

“Well I’d like to think that I’d be better company than your imaginary friend here,” Jake said, trying to regain his footing. The woman was intimidating; sharp eyes that seemed to never miss a thing and a face that he recognized as one he made when the weariness hit on occasion.

“Is that painful for you, Flyboy? The thinking?”

Jake was taken aback by her snark. Normally he’d respond, fire an insult of two back, but he kept his mouth shut for once, watching for even just a flicker of emotion on the woman’s face. But there wasn’t any. She just looked bored. So Jake did something that he would almost never do, he walked away, set his drinks down on a table near the door and waved Javy down when his friend walked in.

A few drinks later and the bar had begun to fill with people. Other Daggers had popped up, joining Jake and Coyote and Jake was relieved to fall back into his cocky pilot facade he used in public. It was only when he went back up to the bar some hours later to grab another round for the group that he saw her again. “Grab another round, Penny?”

“Give me just a minute, Hangman.” Penny gave him a nod and a smile before adding ice to a cup for someone else and handing it off.

“Hangman huh?” A voice near him spoke up. A quick turn and there stood the woman from earlier. This time however, she was standing up, and he admired the tone and definition of her arm under the tight black shirt she wore. “Must be military then.”

“What gave it away?” He asked, glancing over at his friends before looking back at her.

A sharp grin. “Maybe the fact that you hang out with guys named ‘Coyote’ and ‘Payback’. That, and you just have the look about you,” she finished, taking a swig of her drink.

“You got it right, sweetheart,” Jake flirted, leaning his forearms on the bar and turning to look at her. “One of the best in the room.”

Bear knew that there was a gleam in her eye. God, she loved shooting cocky men down and watching them run back to their friends, tails tucked between their legs. But something about this Hangman made her curious and she didn’t yet know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “Is that so? So what makes a fly-boy like you better than most people in the room?” she asked, giving him a teasing look.

A grin crossed Jake’s face and he was so sure that he was in. “Attended Top Gun twice, two confirmed air-to-air kills, plus my good looks and endless amounts of good ole-fashioned Southern charm, sweetheart.”

“Wow. Two whole kills all by yourself? That’s pretty impressive,” Bear nodded, schooling her face so as to not burst out laughing. “Little ole me only has about 60 confirmed kills, but I’m sure it’s much more difficult in a plane.”

Jake, who had been grabbing the beer bottles from Penny, froze. “I’m sorry, 60?”

“Yup, all by myself too.” The mocking slipped free and the smirk on her face was wide and dangerous.

“Who are you?” He asked, concern flooding over his face. Jake knew that the look on his face was one of pure shock, and holy shit was he both terrified and turned on at the thought of this woman being far more dangerous than he was.

Bear grinned, finishing her drink and pulling her wallet out to pay. “Take a guess,” she replied.

“Well I was going to say one hell of a pilot, but I would have heard of you if you were a Navy pilot.”

“Maybe I’m Air Force,” she teased as she watched the conflicting emotions cross Hangman’s face.

“Nuh uh. No way.” Jake shook his head immediately in disgust. “There’s no way you’re Chair Force, not a chance.”

“Like you Navy boys don’t also sit in chairs,” came the retort. “But you are right, I’m not, as you put it, Chair Force.”

“So who are you?” He asked, ignoring the barb thrown his way and pausing to look at her. “You aren’t a pilot, that’s for damn sure, so who and what are you?”

“Bagman! What the hell is taking so long?” A shout came from over by the pool tables.

Rolling his eyes, Jake turned and yelled back “Jus’ wait a damn minute!” Looking back at the woman beside him, Jake nodded for her to tell him.

“Seals,” she replied. “Navy Seal Team Three.”

His green eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know that there were women in the Seals.”

“Not many. Less than 3% to be exact.” There was pride in her voice and Bear knew that. She had worked incredibly hard to be taken seriously during training and even now as the Commander of Seal Team Three, working in the Middle East and Southwest Asia. Her skills were necessary for the survival of her team and herself. Plus putting damn near three years into the US Navy Sniper School made it very clear just how dangerous she was and could be.

“Okay…umm…wow. I jus’…wow.” Jake was in awe, right here in front of him was a woman who was both badass and hot as hell, and the best part? She didn’t back down and made him work for every step. “That’s seriously badass. Why haven’t I heard about you or any of the others?”

“Cause we’re usually kept secret. If enemy states know that there are women on the teams, then we have targets on our backs. But I can tell you, because no one will believe you,” Bear smirked before continuing, “And yeah, I know it’s pretty badass. I worked hard for it. Just like you did for your two kills.” And with a wink, she walked off, disappearing into the crowd near the bar, leaving Jake speechless.

He made his way back to the pool tables, beers in hand and a shocked look on his face. Once he set the bottles down, Jake looked up and began to glance around for any sign of the Seal he had been speaking to. “Who you lookin’ for?” Coyote asked, stepping up next to him.

“A Navy Seal.”

Coyote did a double take. Swallowing his drink, he asked “Did you just say a Navy Seal? Where the hell did you find one of those?”

“Up at the bar not even five minutes ago.”

“The fuck you doin’ chattin’ up a Navy Seal?” Coyote was looking at him like he was crazy. “Don’t they like have three dozen ways to murder you with a rusty spoon?”

“Probably. But she was hot. And seemed to be interested, so who knows if I’ll be a rusty spoon victim,” Jake replied. Not so deep down he was hoping that he’d get the chance to see her again, but stumbled over the sudden realization that he didn’t know her name. Well, that would be a problem for the next time. Turning back to the group, Jake found them watching him with curious looks. “What?”

“Next time that Seal comes back,” Phoenix told him, “Make sure she says hi. I want to know whose ass to protect when you wind up dead in a back alley.”

“Et tu, Nix?” Jake gaped at her, mimicking a pearl-clutching older woman before his face fell back into its usual cocky grin. “You’ll meet her, and you’ll regret saying that.”

Phoenix laughed. “I’ve got the power of being a woman on my side. Bet she doesn’t often get the chance to chat about her experience as a woman in the Navy with someone who understands,” she replied with a shrug. “Now are we playing or what?”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Keep your shirt on,” Jake drawled, setting his drink down and grabbing the pool cue from her outstretched hand. “Ready?”

“Fuck yeah.” A sharp grin from Phoenix had him smirking and if he spent the night trying to beat her, that was no one’s business but his own.

===

Training the next day was brutal. Maverick was clearly playing catch up from missing a day of training and he was making everyone hurt. “Come on Hangman, you’ll have to do better than that!” Phoenix had teased over the headset. “Gotta improve your skills or the hot Seal lady won’t be impressed!”

Jake rolled his eyes, knowing that everyone on the ground listening would hear him if he replied. So he stayed quiet, pulling the throttle up allowing him to go up and over Phoenix and Bob to try and lock on, but failed when Phoenix rolled out of the way. She led them in a chase across the sky, neither plane being ‘hit’, but neither pilot lost.

“What the hell was that?” Bob asked when they landed. “Where did you guys find a Navy Seal?”

Phoenix chuckled, “Bagman found her at the bar last night. He’s smitten.” Having landed back on the airstrip and taxiing it back towards its storing bay with the other Dagger aircraft, she unclipped herself from the harness and jumped down only to be met by Hangman standing right behind her. “Jesus fuck!” She yelled, right as Bob shouted “What the shit man?”

“Nothin’. Jus’ creepin’. Wanted to freak you out a bit,” he said with a shrug and a mischievous grin crossing his face.

“Asshole.”

“That’s me Nix, that’s me.” And Jake wandered off in the direction of the classroom to hear what Mav had to say.

Bob hopped down and watched him walk off. “You think he’s aware that a Navy Seal has standards?”

Phoenix snorted. “Unlikely. But maybe that’s why he’s trying to sneak around here so he can impress her. I won’t tell him that sneaking up on a Seal is a death sentence.” She pulled her helmet off, tucking it under her arm. “C’mon Bobert, let's get ripped into by Mav.”

“If you’re not telling, I’m not telling,” Bob replied with his own grin. “And do we have to? I’d much rather stay here where it’s somewhat safe with my ego intact, thank you.”

“Right? I would too if Mav wouldn’t send out a search party to find us,” she quipped. “Come on, better late than never.”

“I think the Seal would disagree with you.” But he followed Natasha anyway, trying not to drag his heels to avoid what he was sure would be the telling off of his life.

===

Unsurprisingly, Bear was also on base. After all, this was the only Navy base on Coronado Island, so it made sense that all Navy personnel would be stationed together. What she wasn’t expecting was to run into a pair of Navy pilots as she walked back to her car. “Watch it,” she grumbled, shouldering her way past the man and woman.

“There are Seals on this base?”

“Might want to get your eyes checked there, cause I’m not in-fucking-visible,” she retorted.

“Hold up, sorry. Are you the Seal that Bagman spent half of last night talking about?” The man asked in a quiet voice.

Softening her approach just a smidge, Bear turned and nodded. “I am. Something you wanted to ask?”

“No, not at all. Just curious as to who got our precious Bagman all shook up,” the woman replied, before extending a hand to shake. “I’m Phoenix, this is Bob.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Bear.”

“Bear?” The woman known now as Phoenix asked, confusion crossing her face. “How’d you get that?”

Bear grinned. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” She offered, eyes flicking to the tall quiet man who stood awkwardly off to the side. “I don’t bite, Bob. Not unless you want me to,” she added with a wink.

Bob flushed, and shook his head. “Pretty sure I’d get punched.”

Bear gave him a look. “We’ll revisit that later, but continuing on. You were saying Phoenix?”

With a reluctant sigh, Phoenix explained how she’d had to make an emergency landing when her engines caught fire, resulting in a fiery tail across the sky. “Bird on fire, Phoenix. Same difference.”

The other woman chuckled to herself. “That’s a good one. Bear is because I’m cranky as fuck when I get up in the morning,” she told them.

Bob grinned at her explanation. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but that is great.”

“I should be heading off. Lots of meetings tomorrow and all, but it was good to meet you both. Maybe I’ll see you around.” With a wave, Bear headed back to her car. “Oh, and one last thing, if it ever gets out to Hangman you met me, don’t tell him my name. He has to work for that one,” she said loudly, turning to walk backwards.

“Sounds like a plan,” Phoenix called back, giving her a quick wave. Quietly to Bob, she whispered “Bagman is in for an uphill climb if he wants to even have a chance with her.”

“I know,” Bob whispered back. “It’s going to be great.”

===

A/N: So many thanks to @startrekfangirl2233, @dakotakazansky, and @sarahsmi13s for being the most incredible beta readers ever! I love you all so much!

And to all my beautiful readers: my inbox is open so come and scream at me in reblogs, comments, or DMs, I promise I will get to you all!

Taglist:

@startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @fandomxpreferences @fighterpilothoe @dempy @gizmodear @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @javden @snubug @indigomaegrimm @twsssmlmaa @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @waywardhunter95 @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @melss24 @heli991113 @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins Sorry if I missed anyone!

#a gun amonst daggers #jake hangman seresin x reader #Fern finally writes something! #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #controlled chaos squad #callsign bruiser

[eyecan02]

Alastor Analysis

Alastor's background regarding romance and sexuality goes all the way back to early drawings that depict Alastor crushing on Kay-cee.

The story then moves on from a crush on Kay-cee to a full on relationship with Mimzy.

It makes me wonder how Viv jumped from Alastor in a relationship to Alastor being ace. It feels like quite a wide leap. With Viv being the creator, I have nothing but respect for her but I feel like Alastor can still love/possibly do sexual acts while still keeping in character and looking out for #1.

I feel like while Alastor was alive, he leaned toward graysexual and this is why. I don't believe this man died a virgin. As we all know Alastor is from the 20s. He's in his late 30s/40s, meaning that it would've been uncommon for a man his age to still be unwed/unattached to someone. I'm sure he went on blind dates set up by his mom, and even occasionally slept with women in order to keep up appearances. He most likely did this in order to make his mother happy since any mother would've liked to have seen their child happily married.

And after Alastor became an overlord, the occasional sex probably didn't stop there, because Alastor is all about about keeping up appearances and deals. He definitely comes off as someone who would use sex as a means to and end. If a woman wanted to trade their soul in exchange for Alastor's protection and one night with him, I feel like Alastor wouldn't turn her down. It would be a decision that would end up leading to an increase in power for him. He just likely wouldn't kiss during the act.

Now finally onto Alastor's relationship with Charlie. From the beginning, we've all known that Alastor has his own agenda and reasons for involving himself with Charlie. He's a master of manipulation, knowing love is a powerful motivator (the way he manipulates Vaggie by making her feel bad about Charlie and the commercial) and also digging into Charlie's daddy issues.

It was clear that Alastor tried to play the boyfriend card to piss off Luci. It was only after Charlie introduced Vaggie that Alastor changed tactics and switched to the daddy card.

This means that Alastor would be willing to play any role to get what he wants from Charlie, whether the endgame is obtaining her soul or becoming her royal advisor or whatever. If Vaggie had been introduced in the pilot as a mere crush, Alastor would've caught onto the daddy issues quick and would've angled for a romantic role in Charlie's life since love and sex would be easy things for Alastor to manipulate (if my theory is right about him using sex as a means to an end).

I feel like this kind of materializes during the pilot with the way Alastor keeps pushing Vaggie out of the way, and how Vaggie seems jealous whenever Alastor impresses Charlie.

We don't know if this weird competition for Charlie's attention will persist between them as the series goes on considering that behavior was absent in season one. What's interesting is that the jealousy aspect switched from Vaggie to Alastor. The second Luci hugged Charlie, we're shown Alastor looking maliciously at Luci with his eye twitching in irritation.

What do we know about Alastor so far? He's an attention whore . He's used to being one of the strongest demon lords (at least from the pride ring) so suddenly not having attention, particularly Charlie's attention is making him act nuttier than usual.

Usually, it's hard for someone to be jealous without at least having some feelings toward the one they're feeling jealousy over. "Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit that one could get accustomed." This line is for the entire Hazbin gang, but also a real sign he cares for Charlie.

He can still have his own hidden agenda while caring about Charlie and being attracted to her. And he definitely is attracted to her. Calls her "charming and adorable". The constant touching.

Some might argue that that's just a part of Alastor's power play/dominance but he already knows that those types of moves don't intimidate Charlie. In fact, she never seems bothered at all when Alastor tries physically to get closer to her.

Also, the animators placing Alastor in Charlie's bed with both of them on a HEART pillow is insane. They know what they were doing. We see the way Alastor's hands possessively spider crawl up Charlie's shoulders and the way he grips her face.

And by the looks of it, Alastor seems to lust after Charlie's soul almost as much as his freedom. Viv has said that Alastor can't love anyone because he loves himself too much. Yet, she has also described Charlie as "Alastor's mirror".

The fact that they even made Charlie's color palette similar to Alastor's. Her hot pink jacket is almost a reddish color and they both wear bow ties. If Charlie is a reflection of Alastor then wouldn't that mean he does technically love himself by loving Charlie? He could be Charliesexual.

Not saying Viv will change her mind. She already chose her endgame. BUT what if Prime and Viv compromise and we get to have one sided Charlastor where Alastor admits to someone or even directly confesses his romantic love to Charlie herself (without actually trying to steal her from Vaggie)?

#charlastor #charlie x alastor #musicalshipping #radiobelle

[topguncortez]

Forth Times a Charm | Jake & Y/N Seresin

Jake & Shy Wifey Masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist

synopsis: The three times Jake asked Y/N out, and the one time he didn't. AKA, the story of how Jake met Y/N

word count: 5.4k

warnings: cursing, mentions of past abuse, Jake gets his heart broken a couple times

— — — — — — — — —

The First time: The Bar.

The bar was packed for a Friday night. It was most of the young pilots' first night in Miramar and they wanted to celebrate before Monday rolled around. Jake had heard about the legendary Hard Deck from some of the pilots he worked with Lemoore, but it was better in person than they could ever describe. He walked through the doors and his chest immediately swelled with pride and confidence. His whole career he had dreamed of being here in North Island and getting a shot at winning that first place trophy and becoming a part of a legendary band of brothers: TopGun Graduates. 

“Whew! You smell that Bagman!?” Jake’s friend Javy said, clapping both hands down on Jake’s shoulders, “Smells like jet fuel and first place to me!” 

“In your dreams, Machado,” Jake smirked and the two of them ventured into the bar. 

Automatically, Jake got stares and flirty glances from the women in the bar. He plastered his megawatt smile on his face as he walked over to the bar top. He knew he was handsome; perfect blonde hair, green eyes, and a chiseled jaw. The khaki uniform on his body only added to the appeal and made the muscles in his arms bulge just a bit more. Jake leaned against the bar, waiting patiently for the dark-haired female bartender to come around and take his order. 

The bar was loud, a bit too loud for her liking. The only reason she even agreed to come out to the bar on a Friday night was because it was her friend Megan’s bachelorette party. But Y/N could think of a thousand other things she’d rather be doing than leaning against a sticky bar top waiting for the bartender. She gripped her ID tightly in her hand, knowing she was going to be asked for it. It helped hide how badly her hands were shaking. This was not her speed at all. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked and Y/N lifted her eyes up from the dried water ring on the bar. 

“Oh uh. . . A Shirley temple please,” Y/N blushed and the bartender nodded, quickly making the mocktail, “Thank you,” Y/N said and went to hand the card to the bartender but the woman shook her head. 

“I know your mother,” The woman said, “On the house.” 

Y/N nodded and took the drink in her hand and made her way back to the table of her friends. She stopped in her tracks noticing the group of khaki-clad men all around them. Now this was one of the things Y/N had been preparing herself to deal with. She knew that there was a new class of pilots coming in, her dad had been busy preparing all week for it. She knew most of them were harmless and would back off when she said her last name, but some were just too pesky and annoying to even take the hint. 

“Oh, there she is!” Her friend Ashley shouted as she walked over to the table and set her drink down, “This is Y/N, she’s single, fellas.” 

“Thanks,” Y/N muttered as she sat down on the stool, “Hi,” She gave a small wave and blushed. 

Jake’s eyes scanned the pool table, mentally figuring out the best chance for his next shot. He had made friends with a few of his classmates already; a fellow cowboy named Cerberus and his WSO Beuter. Beuter was very talkative, already talking about how he had been studying the manual for the F/A-18, and Jake could tell that Cerberus wanted to punch his WSO in the jaw. Jake was happy that he didn’t have a backseater anymore for that very same reason. WSOs were smart but lacked all social skills. 

“Hey, table of babes at nine o’clock,” Javy said, nodding to a table full of women that were being hit on by some pilots, “Damn, look at that blonde.” 

Jake made his shot and then looked up at the area Javy pointed out. There was a beautiful blonde sitting at the table talking to a pilot named Yale, whom Jake went to flight school with. She had gorgeous blue eyes and a tan that made her look like she was kissed by the sun god himself. She had high cheekbones and a gorgeous smile. Jake looked at his friend, who looked like he could start drooling over the girl. 

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Jake said, holding his fist out and Javy looked at him. The pilot glanced back towards the woman and then at his friend, before holding his fist up. 

“Rock, paper scissors!” They both said at the same time, hitting their fists against their palms. 

“Dammit!” Javy exclaimed as Jake’s paper covered his rock, “Asshole.” 

“Find a new dorm to sleep in tonight,” Jake smirked and shoved the pool stick into Javy’s hands. Javy grumbled as Jake ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the table. He was practicing what he was going to say to the blonde in his head, all prepared to tap her on the shoulder and drop some stupid line. But all that went out the window when he saw her. 

His mind went blank, and it was like everyone in the bar disappeared except for her. He stood frozen in his spot as he watched her climb off her stool and walk towards the bar. No one at her table seemed to notice her slip away, but Jake did. He watched her sit at the bar, letting out a sigh and leaning her chin on her hand. Penny, the bartender, walked over to her and placed a red drink in front of her, and Jake snapped out of his daze. He shook his head and made a beeline toward the girl at the bar, completely forgetting about the blonde. 

“What the fuck?” Javy mumbled watching his friend push through the crowd. 

Y/N thanked Penny as she set another Shirley Temple down in front of her. Her fingers found the straw and stirred the red drink around in the glass, letting out a sigh. She was feeling overwhelmed at her table with all the pilots around. Megan had ordered a round of shots and they all started getting rowdy. Y/N knew she was going to have to drive them all home later, and drunk people made her anxious. She didn’t want to go too far away in case they needed her, but she needed to take a breather. 

“Darlin, I can’t help but notice,” A voice said from beside her. Y/N turned her head and noticed a blonde pilot standing next to her. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen like echeveria plants, “That I don’t think you have my number?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed and she took a quick glance over her shoulder before looking back at the pilot. His name tag on his chest read ‘Seresin’. 

“Are you talking to me?” Y/N asked quietly, not trying to embarrass the pilot in case he got the wrong person.

“Sure am, sweetheart,” He smiled. Gosh, his smile was so bright, she thought. 

“Are you lost?” Y/N asked again and Jake chuckled. 

“No, sweetheart, I am certainly not lost,” Jake said and sat down on the barstool next to her, “I’m Hangman, but you can call me ‘your man’.” 

She let out a giggle and covered her mouth with her hand at his pickup line, “I’m Y/N.” 

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Her blush was beautiful as she tried to hide the pink that was arising on her cheeks, “What brings you here, tonight?” 

“My friend,” Y/N pointed to the table, “Megan is getting married next weekend.” 

Jake’s eyebrows scrunched at the sight of the girl. She looked hardly old enough to drink, let alone get married. He turned back towards Y/N, “How old are you?” 

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age,” Y/N quipped, “But I’m twenty-one. And you?” 

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to ask a man his age,” Jake fired back and Y/N blushed again, “Twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four. So tell me, sweetheart, what brings you to North Island?” 

The two of them lost track of how long they sat at the bar, getting to know one another. Y/N didn’t say a whole lot, but sat and listened intently to Jake talk about himself. He talked about growing up in Texas, winning prom king (which he didn’t think he’d get), getting to the academy, flight school, and the mission that solidified his chance to get to TopGun. He also talked about what kinds of music he likes, how chili has no beans in it, and that the Astros were going to sweep the world series. 

“I feel like I’ve been talking this whole time,” Jake said as he took a sip of his lemonade. He hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since Y/N said she doesn’t drink. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Y/N said and set her water down, “I’m just not as interesting as you.” 

Jake scoffed, “I bet you are plenty interesting. What do you like to do for fun?” 

Y/N sucked in a breath, “Well, I like to garden. I have this huge garden at my parents’ house, with both flowers and vegetables. My mom and I sell the vegetables at the farmer’s market on the weekend.” 

“That’s really cool, Y/N,” Jake said and placed his hand on top of hers, “Hey, this might seem a bit forward but. . . Can I take you out sometime?” 

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked at Jake. Every part of her body was screaming “yes” but a small voice in the back of her head told her “no”. Her father had warned her about the pilots that came into the Hard Deck, they had one thing on their mind, and that was to release some steam. Y/N slowly retracted her hand from Jake’s and he frowned. God, she had known him all of about three hours and hated to see a frown on his beautiful face. She held her hands in her lap and smiled shyly at Jake. 

“I’m not sure that is a good idea, Hangman,” Y/N said and shook her head, “You’re here for school and should focus on that,” Jake wanted to interject but Y/N stood up from her chair and looked at her watch, “I should gather my friends. Thank you for the drink, here let me-” 

“No need to pay, sweetheart, I got it,” Jake said and Y/N nodded. 

“Well, have a goodnight Hangman, and good luck with everything,” Y/N said and gave him a small wave before walking over to where her friends were. 

Jake didn’t know much about a lot of things, but he did know that he was head over heels in love with Y/N Parker. 

— — — — — — — — —

The second time: The Farmers Market. 

Two weeks. Two entire weeks. 14 long days, Javy had to listen to Jake grumble about the shy girl at the bar. He loved his best friend like a brother, he truly did. Jake had been there for Coyote through thick and thin and was one of the only people that knew almost everything about him. But Javy could not stand Jake’s mopey behavior any longer, and he was starting to believe that neither could Cerberus and Beuter. 

It was Javy’s idea to go to the local farmers’ market. They had a small kitchenette in their shared dorm room, and he had become the main cook for all four men. He loved going to the farmer’s market back home in Georgia, finding all the unique recipes and fresh produce. Jake stood next to him, his hands in his pocket, and looked around at the busy crowd. Cerberus had ditched them and went to look for a little keepsake to send back home, while Beuter had found some artwork to look at. 

“It’s hot,” Jake complained and Javy looked over his shoulder, “I want to sleep.” 

Javy rolled his eyes, “So which one do you think would taste the best with a stirfry?” He asked the vendor, ignoring Jake’s whining. 

Jake didn’t want to be standing in the hot California sun while Javy looked at various homemade sauces. He wanted to be in his bed, enjoying his morning off and being in the air conditioning. His body ached from spending hours sitting in class and being in the air. It also didn’t help that his sleep schedule had been royally fucked since coming to TopGun. Even though he was an officer, they treated them like they were plebs all over again. But Jake knew that being the best of the best didn’t come with a fair and easy ride to the top. 

“I’ll take two of these, thanks,” Javy smiled at the vendor and handed him some cash for the two jars of sauce, “How about you go find something to send to your mom?” Javy said to Jake and the blonde glared at him, “Dude, it’s been two weeks and you haven’t seen her. She was probably just visiting the area, get over it. You missed your chance. There are a thousand other women in the-” 

“She’s here,” Jake said, cutting Javy off. 

“Buddy, take a hint she turned you-” 

“No,” Jake said, and grabbed Javy’s jaw, turning him to look across the blocked-off street to another vendor, “She’s right here.” 

“Well holy-” 

Jake didn’t stick around long enough to hear the next word out of Javy’s mouth as he made his way across the street and over to the small booth that she had set up. She had a wooden sign on the front of her table that read ‘Y/N’s Flowers’ and a wide array of flower arrangements as well as fresh vegetables, no doubt from the garden that she had told Jake about. He always imagined it was just a small garden, but by the sight of the flowers on the table, he clearly underestimated her. 

She looked gorgeous, wearing a pair of overalls with a black tank top underneath. Her hair was pushed back with a white bandanna, some strands falling to frame her beautiful face. She had a gentle smile on her face as she talked with some elderly woman who had a handful of tomatoes. Y/N looked the most comfortable that Jake had ever seen her. Sure she had somewhat grown comfortable in her conversation with Jake at the Hard Deck, but here, she looked totally calm. Totally at ease as she tilted her head back in laughter and thanked the woman for her purchase and turned to help the next customer in line. 

Just like the night at the Hard Deck, Jake was frozen in his spot. It wasn’t until he saw Beuter walk over to her, and lean his hand on the table, giving her a sleazy smirk and no doubt a pick-up line. Jake felt the odd feeling of jealousy course through his veins as he straightened his shoulders and walked over to the table. Her eyes danced from Beuter over to Jake, and he watched them light up. 

“Hey,” Jake smiled at her, and she nodded, “Can she help you Beuter or are you just here to be annoying?” 

Beuter scoffed, “I am here to look at these amazing cucumbers.” 

“Zucchini,” Jake corrected and Y/N glanced up at him with a shy smirk, “Cucumbers are bumpy, zucchini are smooth. Ain’t that right, sweets?” 

Y/N nodded, “He’s right. B-but we have cucumbers. There are some sliced ones on the other side with some homemade ranch from another stand.” 

“I’ll pass,” Beuter said shortly and walked away from the stand. 

Jake had to tell himself to not grab Beuter by the collar and make him apologize for putting a slight frown on Y/N’s face, but he also didn’t want Beuter hanging around for much longer. He watched her for a moment as she straightened up some of the flower arrangements and put out some more vegetables. 

“What can I help you with?” She asked and Jake blushed, being totally caught off guard. 

“I uh. . .” 

“Y/N,” an older woman who looked exactly like Y/N, walked up to them, “Why don’t you go take a break? Mr. Morris has those almond cookies you like, and someone said that there’s a new food vendor. You’re always trying something new.” 

“Mom, I need-” 

“Nonsense, I got it,” Her mom looked up at Jake with a smile, “Clara Parker, nice to meet you,” She held her hand out and Jake mentally slapped himself for not introducing himself earlier. 

“Jake Seresin, nice to meet you ma’am,” Jake nodded, “What do you say, Y/N?” 

Y/N looked up at Jake and shook her head, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

Clara let out a sigh as she watched her daughter walk away from the stand and go towards their truck parked in the lot. She looked back at the blonde boy in front of her, who had a dejected look on his face. She gave him a sad smile and picked up a bouquet of flowers. 

“She’s shy. Timid, like a dog who’s been kicked one too many times,” Clara said and adjusted the flowers in her hand a bit, and set them in a mason jar, “You seem like the type who has patience.” 

“I am, ma’am,” Jake said, “That’s the second time I’ve asked her out. I met her at the Hard Deck the other night.” 

“I’m aware,” Clara chuckled and placed a brown bow around the mason jar and tied it, “I know the owner. I also know when my daughter gets scared of her own mind.” Clara picked up the jar of flowers and looked it over, “Cowboy flowers,” She looked at Jake, “Sunflowers, orange roses, red carnations, and baby’s breath.” Clara handed Jake the arrangement and his jaw dropped. 

“Oh, I didn’t-” 

“I know. But my daughter’s love language is through her flowers,” Clara smiled, and Jake took the flowers from her hands, “I’ll tell her that you liked them.” 

Jake nodded and walked away from the booth to go find his friends. 

— — — — — — — — —

The Third time: The Beach

The breeze felt nice as it whipped past her. It was that perfect mix of not too hot and not too cold to enjoy sitting on the beach. Y/N sat in a beach lounge chair, watching as her friends splash and play around with a group of aviators that had the day off. Her friends all picked their skimpiest bikinis knowing that the beach was going to be full of eligible men. Her friend, Emily, had picked out a suit for Y/N to wear, but it was far too revealing for her to be comfortable. So, Y/N sat under the beach umbrella in a longueur and read her book, occasionally peering over the top of it. 

“Y/N! Come join us!” Allison called from the water, an aviator wrapped his arms around her and walked her backward into the water. 

“Yeah, Y/N!” The aviator called and flipped Allison over in the water, making her squeal. 

Y/N giggled at her friends. She never once felt out of place with them. She never felt like they were her friends out of pity or that she was bringing the group down. They made her feel comfortable, never pushing her out of her comfort zone and standing up for her when needed. Y/N got her joy from watching her friends have fun. 

“I’m fine with my book!” She shouted back to them, holding up the beat-up copy of ‘The Fault in Our Stars’. She didn’t care how cliche it made her look, it was her favorite book. She basically knew it by memory now, her favorite passages had been highlighted and doodles covered most if not all the pages. 

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” She jumped and looked up to see Jake standing right next to her. He was shirtless, showing off his toned and tanned abdomen. A pair of pink board shorts were on his lower half, exposing his muscular legs. He looked like a Greek god who just fell from the sky. His green eyes were locked on the ocean in front of him, while Y/N was practically drooling over his body. 

“Oh,” She blinked a couple of times, snapping herself out of a daze, “Yeah it is.” 

Jake smirked, knowing she was totally checking him out. He decided to keep the comment to himself and sat down on the sand next to her. Y/N turned her eyes back to her book, trying to control the blush that was creeping up her neck to her cheeks. They both sat in silence, as Jake laid back on his towel, stretching out to get the perfect tan. Every so often, Y/N would steal a glance at his glistening body. 

‘Stop staring at him!’ Her inner voice scolded. She was never one to ogle men like this. She left that up to her friends, who seemed to have that role covered. But there was something about the fine male specimen laying next to her that had her questioning her morals. 

“Oblivion is inevitable,” Jake muttered. 

“What?” She asked, snapping her head towards him. He had his sunglasses on, and she couldn’t tell whether his eyes were opened or shut. 

“August,” Jake answered, sitting up, “When he tells Hazel he loves her, he says ‘oblivion is inevitable-” 

“I know,” She cut him off, “It’s my- uh, my favorite part.” 

Jake smiles at her, looking into those soft eyes he had been seeing in his dreams. He stood up, brushing the sand off his behind, before holding his hand out to her. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, looking at him confused. He huffed and reached his hand out more. 

“C’mon,” He nodded his head towards the ocean, “You look like you need some sunlight.” She blushed but then looked down at the towel that was covering her body. Y/N shifted in her seat, holding the towel closer to her body, scared of letting it fall, “Y/N, I’m going to give you 10 seconds to stand up before I lift you up.” 

“Jake,” She sighed, “I can’t. I-” 

“Are you naked?” 

“No.” 

“Do you have a swimsuit on?” 

“Yes but-” 

“Can you swim?” 

“Yes, but that’s-” 

“So you have no excuse,” Jake said, and held his hand out more, “C’mon.” 

Y/N clenched her jaw, and removed the towel from her body, showing off the baby pink two-piece that by coincidence, matched his board shorts. But Jake wasn’t paying attention to the matching colors, he was paying attention to how beautiful she was. Her body was perfect. Her skin was perfectly sunkissed from years of living in California. The light color of the swimsuit made her beautiful skin glow. She wasn’t the pencil-thin models that are all over the coast. 

Y/N could feel Jake’s eyes taking her in, making heat rise in her body and the need to cover up rise in her mind. She went to reach for her towel, but Jake stopped her, grabbing her wrist. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jake said, looking right into her eyes, “Everything about you is beautiful.” 

All she could do was nod, and bite her lip. She held her hand out to Jake, who took it without hesitation. But it was only for a split second before he jerked her hand and threw her over his shoulder. Y/N let out a squeal as she braced both hands on his strong back. The sound of her precious giggle filled his ears as she ran towards the ocean, holding her securely by her thighs. 

“Plug your nose!” Jake called out, before tossing her gently into the water. The smile never left her face as she surfaced, and quickly jumped onto Jake, pulling him down with her. 

The two of them splashed around, playing in the water, and eventually joined in on Y/N’s friend’s game of two-hand touch football. It wasn’t until about an hour into playing the game, that Y/N realized, none of Jake’s friends were there. But it didn’t seem to bother him as he was laughing and joking with Emily’s fiance, Sam. 

When the sun started setting, Jake asked Y/N to join him for a walk along the sand. She had slipped her white cover-up over her body and had her hair piled in a bun on top of her head. The sky was a gorgeous color of pink and oranges, the summer sun still giving off warmth. The beach was much quieter now that most of the families were gone, and Y/N’s friends had disappeared into the Hard Deck for a drink. 

“Thank you,” Y/N said. Jake turned his head to look at her, “For the uh. . . for saying that I uh-” 

“For saying you’re beautiful?” Jake asked. Y/N nodded, looking down at her feet. Jake stopped walking and grabbed her hand, turning her to look at him, “Anyone who doesn’t say you’re beautiful is wrong. You are beautiful. Inside and out. I’ve never met someone quite like you, Y/N.” 

His green eyes were looking right into hers. Y/N could see the specks of gold that floated around in his irises. She always believed that eyes were the gateway to the soul, and looking into Jake’s eyes, she could see that his words were true. And everything in Y/N’s being was telling her to step forward and kiss him. 

But there was also that small voice in the back of her head that was telling her to run. Run as fast as she could away. That the man standing in front of her was going to do nothing but break her heart into pieces. Memories of the past flooded her mind as Jake’s hand moved to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. She sucked in a deep breath as he leaned his head down. It was as if a magnet had been placed between them, her body moving into his.  His lips barely ghosted her’s when she took a step away from him. 

“I can’t,” She whispered, closing her eyes to hopefully hide the unshed tears. 

“Please,” Jake begged, “Just one date. Just one. Let me show you that I am not-” 

Y/N shook her head and looked up at Jake, “No, Jake. Th-this isn’t- we can’t. I-I can’t.” 

Jake had never felt heartbreak until this moment, as Y/N completely stepped out of his grasp. She whispered out a rushed apology before taking off down the beach. Jake felt like running after her. Jake knew that he should probably run after her. But his heart was in pieces, and all he could do was stand there in the sand, watching the girl he had fallen for, walk away from him. 

— — — — — — — — —

The One time He didn't ask: Graduation

Jake usually felt joyous when it came to graduation day. To him, graduation always symbolized the next step in his career. From the Academy, to Flight School, and now TopGun. Normally, Jake would be the first one up, going to get a fresh haircut and a shave, before spending hours doing his shower and hair routine, all to make sure his uniform was perfect and his medals were shined. 

But today, all Jake felt was dread. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t looking forward to his next assignment. It was the fact that he had let the woman he saw his whole future with walk right out of his arms. His mind for the last two weeks had been consumed with Y/N. Her giggle, the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the scent of her perfume mixed with salt water. He also couldn’t get the way her eyes filled with fear and the way her voice cracked when she told Jake that they couldn’t date. He realized that someone, somehow, hadn’t shown her the proper way to love. 

Jake had always believed that women needed to be treated with the utmost respect. He couldn’t even fathom someone treating his sisters like anything but a queen. It made his chest ache and his heart hurt just thinking about how someone could’ve mistreated Y/N. A person, who was too soft for the world. A person, who could see no evil. A person, who could love even when hurt. 

“Yo, we gotta bounce,” Javy said, standing in the doorway of Jake’s bedroom. 

Jake blinked from staring down at his white dress shoes to looking up at his friend, “Yeah, I’m up.”

Javy nodded his head, watching as his friend arose from his bed. Jake ran a hand through his hair, and grabbed his cap that was sitting on his dresser. Javy placed his hand on his friend’s chest, stopping him in his track. Javy had seen the shift in his friend over the ten weeks of being on North Island. He hadn’t pried too much into it, but he knew it had something to do with the girl he met at the bar on night one. 

“You good?” Javy asked. 

Jake nodded, “I’m fine.” He plastered on his infamous smirk, “I’m ready to find out who won and get my trophy.” 

Javy rolled his eyes, “Bullshit. We both know Dragon beat you.” 

“Over my dead body,” Jake chuckled. 

And Javy was right. Admiral Kazansky had called Dragon’s name for the winner of the TopGun trophy. She had a bright smile on her face and basically ran up the stairs to take the trophy from Iceman’s hands. She held it high above her head as the class cheered. Jake had to admit, he first doubted the female when he saw her, but she quickly proved her worth. He glanced over to where Bradley Bradshaw was sitting, seeing that stupid mustache and lovesick look on his face. 

When Iceman dismissed the class, Jake was the first to stand up and walk right to the open bar, Coyote and Cerberus hot on his heels. Jake tried his best to keep the fake smile on his face. He stuck by Coyote’s side, letting him do most of the talking to the admirals and other officers. Occasionally, Jake would give them a tight lip smile and thank them for their congratulations on graduating from TopGun. Though he wished he finished first, he glanced over to see the young female with the large dragon tattoo on her back holding the trophy pose with the trophy and talking to some reporters and officers. 

“I’m gonna take a break,” Jake said to Javy. Coyote nodded and watched as his friend walked out of the small garden at the O Club. 

Jake sat down at the quiet bar, and ordered himself a glass of whiskey. He never realized how alone he truly was in the world until he saw all his co-pilots’ parents, spouses, and partners. He had reached out to his parents, but they decided to invite his sisters over instead. 

“Hey Donny, can I get a Shirley Temple?” A female voice said next to Jake. He looked up, seeing the girl he had been chasing after for the whole 13 weeks, “Long trip, sailor?”

Jake scoffed, “Something like that.”

Y/N nodded and sat down on the barstool next to Jake. He looked up at her, taking in the sight of the cute white sundress with flowers on it. Her hair was curled to perfection, and the faintest amount of makeup was on her face. 

 “I’m sorry I ignored you,” She said, laying her hands flat on the bar top. She had been going over what she was going to say to Jake when she saw him. Y/N had basically got the script down to a T. . . but now everything had been thrown out the window. His scent was intoxicating, and it was making her brain go haywire. 

“Don’t need the apology, sweetheart, my ego has been bruised enough.”

“Well then… let me make it up to you?” Jake looked up at her, his brows furrowed, “G-go out with me? I-I mean only if you want-“ Jake cut her off by placing his hand on hers. She sucked in a breath as he turned her palm and intertwined their fingers.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, sweetheart.”

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#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #Jake seresin #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x shy!wifey #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #opposites attract things! #opposites attract

[topgun-imagines]

I Hate You

Requested: yes

Summary: Jake finds you injured in the parking lot. It leads to a confession of feelings you never saw coming.

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: cuts and scrapes. Drinking. Slight angst? Not really. Enemies to lovers.

Note: this turned out way longer than I thought it would 😅

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

As the door closed behind you the loud sounds of the bar were drowned out. You sighed as you walked through the parking lot and towards your car. Your arms shot out as you stumbled slightly, trying to make sure you stayed on your feet. You hadn’t drank too much tonight, but the few tequila shots that you had taken mixed with the tall heels you were wearing wasn’t making your walk through the parking lot easy.

The dagger squad had been out celebrating Phoenix’s birthday. You had spent the majority of the evening laughing with the pilot, doing your best to avoid the cocky pilot on the other side of the bar. It was safe to say that you and Jake had never gotten along. Ever since you met him, he had been nothing but rude, always making sure that you knew exactly how much he hated your presence. You really didn’t understand why he hated you so much. It didn’t help that nobody else that knew the two of you had any clue what his problem was.

You were almost to your car when it happened. While you were walking, the heel of your shoe was caught in a small hole. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem but in your tipsy state, this had sent you to the ground in an instant. You hissed at the sharp feeling of gravel against your skin. That seemed to help sober you up. With a groan, you brought your hand down to the skin of your calf where blood was beginning to seep through the cuts. A soft curse escaped you when you noticed your bleeding knuckles. You must have scraped them on the way down too.

You were so lost in trying to control the bleeding that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. The crunch of boots on gravel is what alerted you to someone else’s presence. When your eyes landed on the person behind you, you almost wished that you could bury yourself in a hole. You didn’t want anyone to see you in the state that you were in, let alone Jake Seresin.

The man sighed above you. He had never seen you look so fragile and vulnerable before. As much as you hated him, he wasn’t about to let you suffer in the middle of the parking lot. With another harsh sigh, he knelt down beside you, running his eyes over your injured form quickly. Something that caused you to furrow your eyebrows.

Before you even knew what was happening, Jake had swept you up into his arms. You instantly began wiggling, insisting that you would be fine and that you could take care of yourself. He paid you no mind as he carried you toward his truck. As you continued to struggle, he pulled the door open and set you down on the seat. You were just about to protest once more when he stopped you. “Would you just be quiet for once?” You scowled at his comment. He sighed again. “Please, just let me help you.” He spoke a moment later much softer.

Your mouth snapped shut, deciding that you would be able to survive a few minutes in his presence. You waited quietly as he worked pulling a bag full of bandages of all shapes and sizes from his glove box. You could only stare at the top of his head while he worked, hands folded neatly in your lap. “Thank you.” You murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

Jake was silent, leading you to believe that he was choosing to ignore you. However, he poke up just as he began rubbing the blood from your knuckles carefully. “Y’a know,” He stared, causing you to stare at him in confusion. His clear green eyes were suddenly staring right at you. You remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “I’m trying really hard to hate you right now.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise. That was definitely not what you were expecting. If you didn’t know any better, you would have guessed that Jake was anxious. The look on his face was one that you had never seen before. “Why?” You choked out. Why would he have to try to hate you? It seemed like he did a pretty good job of it in every other situation you two had ever been in.

He swallowed harshly. “Because it’s all I know how to do.” You almost gasped. You honestly didn’t know how to respond. After all, what were you supposed to say when someone that you thought hated your guts, actually confessed that they never did? Was Jake Seresin really confessing his feelings for you? Has he thought that you hated him this entire time?

You remained silent. Something that Jake assumed could only mean something bad. He waited with bated breath as you carefully formulated your response. You sucked in a sharp breath before you brought your eyes up to meet his. He nearly flinched when your hand settled on his cheek. “Then maybe we can learn together.” You suggested softly. Suddenly, you could see the hope rise in his eyes. With a soft and somewhat hesitant smile, you leaned in towards him. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed against yours. When you felt him smiling into the kiss, you grinned in return before deepening it, your mind suddenly consumed with the cocky pilot. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

#top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #top gun x reader #top gun fluff #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #hangman imagine #hangman x female!reader #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman fic #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #hangman x you #hangman #1500 follower celebration #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun movie #hangman blurb

[skellymom]

"HIGH TIMES"

A Bad Batch One Shot Fan Fic

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 2.6K

Background: The boys mistakenly eat "candy". Medicinal Candy. They are so silly and dumb! I plagiarized a line or two from Alice in Wonderlands Caterpillar (for the Star Wars version: Star Dragon).

Warning: Swearing, nudity, drug references.

“What ARE you making?” Crosshair, sitting in the corner polishing his rifle curious of Tech’s new “project”. 

“I am infusing Meiloorun juice into a gelatinous confection containing Star Sedge for Echo.  It should help him with his prosthetic limb pain.”  Tech, crouched over a folding table littered with equipment, dropping gel candies from his gloved hand into a clear cellophane bag. 

Tech worked meticulously...handling the chemical properties with PRECISE care...like you do with these types of things: 

“Why not a tincture?” 

“It is less stable without the binders to hold it.  In addition, this particular state makes it more...palatable.”   

“Doesn’t Star Sedge make a person...high?” 

“It is no secret within the galaxy of the euphoric properties of this plant.  It also provides pain and stress relief, dispels anxiety, is used recreationally, and even utilized for spiritual purposes.”  Tech picked up another pre-cut Meiloorun slice to use for flavoring.  After squeezing into a receptacle, he set the spent fruit aside in his “eat” pile.  The fruit was rare to find in this part of the galaxy, and Tech wasn’t about to let it go to waste...even devoid of its sweet juice. 

Crosshair watched Tech silently while polishing away. 

Tech quietly picked up a piece of spent Meleroon, popping it into his mouth, absently chewing away. 

He dipped another gel candy in the juice, then dropped it into the bag. 

Picked up another Meiloorun piece and popped it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. 

Dip, soak, retrieve, drop it into the bag.  Pop Meiloorun into mouth, chew, swallow. 

Dip, soak, retrieve, drop it into the bag.  Pop Meiloorun into mouth, chew, swallow. 

Repeat. 

Repeat. 

Repeat. 

Dip, soak, retrieve, drop it into the bag.  Pop Meiloorun into mouth, chew... 

...a WET explosion inside Tech’s mouth!  Warm liquid running down his throat!  And to his surprise, Tech inhaled involuntarily...gasping, coughing, choking!!! 

He had accidentally picked up a gel candy and put it in his mouth! 

Tech jumped up and ran to the refresher.  He spit into the sink, repeatedly rinsing out his mouth.  Unfortunately, he had swallowed most of the gel candy contents. 

Oh no!  Tech gazed back at himself in the refresher mirror... 

(Pinterest Credit: Your Stuck With Me, Skyguy)

Crosshair sat on his bunk smiling like a Tooka cat.  The idea of Tech inadvertently imbibing in a hallucinogen gave him joy.  It was going to be a fun afternoon... 

...then it got better. 

Wrecker walked past, stopped, and sniffed at the bag. 

“HEY...what’s THIS?” 

“Oh, just a little something Tech whipped up for Echo.” 

“Smells REALLY GOOD!”  Wrecker picked up the cellophane bag containing approximately twenty gel candies, staring intently into it. 

Crosshair watched with interest. 

Wrecker turned to Cross for permission “You think I could try just ONE?” 

“Oh, I don’t know Wrecker...Tech did make it for ECHO.” 

“Well, I’M gonna ask if he can share!” 

“You go ahead and do that.” Crosshair smirked as Wrecker walked to the front of the Marauder. 

“YO ECHO!” 

“Yeah?” Echo, seated in the pilot’s chair swiveled around to see Wrecker approaching with a clear bag full of jelly candies. 

“Can I have one of your candies?” 

“MY candies???” 

“Tech made them for you!” 

“Oh?”  Echo grabbed one out of the bag, held it to his nose, sniffing.  “Of course! Tech knows Meiloorun is my favorite flavor.”   

Echo popped one into his mouth.  His eyes lit up.  “Go ahead Wrecker.” 

Wrecker followed suit, crunching down.  Some of the fluid squirted down his lips.  “Ummm...sweet and messy!” 

Echo’s reaction changed “Yeah...kinda warm and has a...PURPLE undertone...” 

“IT’S GOOD!”  Wrecker greedily eyed the bag. 

Crosshair strode up to the cockpit and addressed Echo.  “How’s your MEDICINAL taste?” 

“WHAT?!”  Echo stopped dead.  Then he felt the first faint warm wave rush over him... 

“The gels Tech made...for your limb pain...” Crosshair grinned. 

“WAIT?  THIS ISN’T JUST CANDY???”  Wrecker thundered. 

Cross pulled out a gel from the bag.  “No. It’s Meiloorun flavored Star Sedge gels.  Takes care of pain...with an added kick.” 

With a smart assed smile, Crosshair tossed the gel into his mouth and chewed it heartily...then swallowed. 

(Pininterest credit: Nico)

“What the actual fuck Cross???”  Echo’s anger was blunted by the second warm wave washing over him... 

“Uh..you ok, Echo?”  Wrecker seemed concerned. 

“Just feeling...altered...” 

“I don’t feel nothin” 

“You won’t Wrecker.” Cross remarked.  “You’re so large...”  The first wave hit Cross harder due to his low body weight “...it’s like a raindrop in the ocean...” 

“Ole Crosshair...sounding like a poet.” Echo’s eyes glazed over. 

“You guys are acting WEIRD.”  Wrecker eyed both his brothers with suspicion. 

Echo sat in the pilot’s seat pondering, then perked up suddenly paranoid “Ohhh...Hunter’s gonna be PISSED!” 

(Pinterest Credit: Mr Echo)

“WHY am I going to be pissed?” 

Wrecker and Echo jumped at Hunter’s voice entering the Marauder.  He had just returned from a walk in the forest. 

Crosshair cracked the biggest, dopiest smile ever. 

Wrecker quickly reached into the bag, grabbed the rest of the candies, and crammed them into his mouth.  His attempt to hide the evidence wasn’t successful.  Wrecker’s strong grip popped one of the gels, coating his hand, and left residue on his mouth.  He then crumpled up the bag noisily in his huge sticky fist. 

Hunter had clocked the sticky sweet odor even before entering the ship.  Had Echo not made the remark he had; Hunter would have just figured it was Wrecker eating snacks...again. 

“NOTHING!”  Wrecker shouted. 

Crosshair rolled his eyes. 

Echo stared at Wrecker in a half-baked manner, then slowly shook his head in disbelief. 

“What’s going on here?”  Hunter grabbed Wrecker’s hand, pulling the sticky crumpled bag free...with his BARE hands. 

The bag stuck to Hunter’s hands.  He stared at it incredulously.  “Someone want to explain THIS?” 

(Pinterest credit: Maulia)

Before ANYONE could answer, the refresher door slowly opened.  Tech gingerly emerged, clearly wanting to explain... 

“It seems EVERYONE with the exception of YOU is under the influence of the medicinal gel candies I have concocted.”  

Hunter spun around to see Tech looking bug eyed, yet glazed, swaying unsteadily...a slight smile on his lips.  He seemed rather pleased with himself. 

“Where in the hell have YOU been???”  Echo slurred. 

“I... have been staring at myself in the refresher mirror for...” Tech stared at his wrist chronometer.  He seemed to be trying to work SOMETHING out, but just stood there looking terminally at his wrist.  “...I am unsure...but QUITE some time now...or so it seems.” 

Crosshair abruptly broke out in full maniacal laughter.  He sounded like a strangled goose. 

“My pain is gone!”  Echo interjected suddenly in a high-pitched voice.  “My brain cells went with it TOO!” 

Hunter sighed “I can’t leave you all alone, can I???”  He turned to Wrecker, who had gone suddenly quiet. 

Wrecker stared out through the Marauder windscreen.  His lips still full of sticky goo.  He seemed entranced by something out there.  Hunter followed Wrecker’s gaze.  Just clouds above the treetops with the sun now setting.  But Wrecker’s gaze seemed to suggest he was seeing MORE, something waaaay beyond the clouds. 

“Wrecker?”  Hunter inquired. 

A few seconds later Wrecker answered without breaking eye contact with the sky “Yeah...Sarge...” in barely a whisper. 

“What do you see?”   

“I see...Lula’s” In the same whisper, his mouth stayed open.  Slack jawed. 

(Pininterest Credit: Bad Batch)

Somewhere a goose was honking like mad inside the Marauder... 

Hunter shook his head, then turned to throw the cellophane bag into the trash incinerator.  It stuck to his hand fast.  He pulled it free with the other hand to have it stick to that hand.  Hunter struggled with the bag.  Finally, he was able to throw it into the incinerator and slam the panel shut with his foot. 

Both hands were now coated with the sticky goo.  Hunter was BEYOND frustrated. 

“FUCK!”  He made a beeline for the refresher to wash his hands... 

...walking suddenly seemed VERY difficult.  I need to sit down.  Hunter slid into the first seat he could find to take a load off.  He HATED the sensory feel of the sticky substance on both hands.  It had to be cleaned off RIGHT NOW!  Hunter spit into both hands, rubbed them together, then rubbed both hands on his pants. 

“Hunter...” Tech’s comically high voice interjected.  “This might be bad timing on my part...however...saliva activates the absorptive properties of the active ingredient.” 

“Didn’t put hands in my mouth Tech” Hunter clapped back. 

“Transdermal absorption will occur with external keratinized skin...or internal squamous stratified epithelial tissue...” 

“Break it down for me, Tech... head feels like a Meiloorun on a toothpick...” 

Tech stopped...in deep thought...processing his answer in a manner Hunter could understand.   

“You’re fucked either way.  Enjoy the trip.” 

“Roger that...Tech” Hunter sat back, feeling the planet slowly rotate...as he lost himself in his own inner experience. 

Sometime later...shortly after...but it seemed like an ETERNITY...like it does with these types of things: 

Tech decided to mathematically plot out the existence of all matter in the universe. 

Wrecker had long protracted and silly conversations with his many multicolored Lula’s. 

Echo couldn’t be arsed to get up from where he was sitting...so he scomped into the ship’s computer and mind melded with it. 

Crosshair laughed like a silly goose...then turned on the holonet tunes and danced like he was back at 79’s Rave Night. 

Hunter...he watched Tech’s calculations morph into the third dimension, witnessed Wrecker’s multicolored Lula’s, heard the whispers of machinery through Echo’s ears, and adored the rarest of smiles from Crosshair... 

...until Crosshair BLASTED the music to an unbearable volume.  Hunter shot up and lurched out of the Marauder to escape the cacophony.  He stumbled down the gangplank and wandered away...following the song of the full moon.  His mistress serenading her Hunter as he toddled into the dark woods... 

Gonky sat and watched the WHOLE THING with astonished interest.   

His conclusion: Humans are weird! 

Sunrise over the Marauder.  Rex hailed The Batch bright and early with intel. 

Echo immediately snapped up in his seat and gasped.  He rubbed his eyes and engaged the holo communication. 

Rex’s holo illuminated in bright blue.  “Morning, Echo.”  Rex glanced past Echo’s shoulder to address the rest of the crew... 

“WHAT THE KRIFF???”  Eyes wide, astonished. 

Echo slowly turned around.  

The crew was passed out. 

The whole interior of the Marauder was covered in black mathematical scrawl.  Tech was covered as well...all over his semi-naked body.  Drool slicked his chin. 

Snack wrappers and fizzy drink cans littered the ship sticking to Wrecker...who was also semi-dressed.  Snack crumbs stuck to his lips giving the impression of bright and obscenely applied lipstick. 

Crosshair hung front half upside down from the open ceiling compartment wearing something hot pink...and dubious.  Where he obtained it from would stay a mystery for years...even to Crosshair. 

Hunter was missing. 

“Uhhh...” Echo was at a loss. 

“Seems you all had...an interesting night?”  Rex stammered. 

“Yeeeah.”  

Rex gave Echo an out “Let’s...uh...reconvene in one standard hour?  Sound good?” 

“See you then, Rex.” 

The holo transmission cut off and Rex disappeared. 

Echo surveyed his crewmates.  He had only been with the batch for a short period of time after leaving Rex.  They certainly ACT defective... 

...he had a HORRIBLE case of dehydrated cotton mouth. Echo slowly and unsteadily got up from the pilot’s seat.  

“WAKE UP!” He barked. 

Crosshair jerked awake, falling from the ceiling. Good thing Wrecker broke his fall. 

“Urm...whaa..?” Wrecker sleepily sat up, absentmindedly pushing Cross off him onto the floor. 

Tech was still out cold...drooling. 

“We NEED to find Hunter! He’s missing!!!” Echo scowled. “Intel with Rex in one standard hour SHARP!” 

“OH for FUCK SAKE!” Crosshair growled grouchy as all hell. He peeled off a full uneaten cookie from Wrecker’s chest and whipped it across the room.  

It bounced off with a hard THWACK! against Tech’s forehead. Tech startled violently out of a deep sleep with WIDE eyes. “HAAA..!” Rubbed his forehead, smearing the inked algorithm scrawled across it. He gazed at his hand, his body, then slowly scanned the interior of the Marauder. 

“GET UP!” Cross hissed. “We need to find Hunter!” 

Tech immediately scrabbled up and sat in the co-pilot's chair. 

“Shouldn’t we get dressed and go on foot?” Wrecker groggily asked. 

“It will be much simpler to follow the trail of shed armor Hunter left behind. Especially over rough forest terrain.” Tech pointed to Hunter’s pauldron’s lying on the ground covered in wet morning dew. 

“Besides...don’t see YOU getting THAT off easily anytime soon.”  

Echo pointed at Crosshair...who looked down at himself...finally realizing he was wearing something made up entirely of hot pink straps, buckles, and intricately tied ropes. 

“HA! You aint’ fitting ANY armor OVER THAT!!! Wrecker snickered. 

Crosshair crossed his arms and sulked. 

They engaged the Marauder to take off and scan the forest for Hunter. Following the bits of armor he took off and discarded along the way...and eventually his clothing. The Marauder flew low deeper and deeper into the dark canopy of impossibly tall ancient trees. 

Hunter slowly opened his eyes. The dark canopy of trees above provided shelter. He felt warm and snug. The smell of earth, plants, water, and the soothing sounds of birdsong echoing through the forest greeted him. Hunter felt at peace. 

He hadn’t slept this soundly in quite a while. 

Something around him stirred quietly. It was purple and segmented with many legs. Long sharp claws at the end of each... 

Hunter was enveloped by a Duinuogwuin! 

Somehow...he wasn’t the least bit concerned. The beast regarded him with its glowing yellow eyes. It took a long, protracted drag off a glass hookah pipe and smiled. 

You are a good height, indeed. Then exhaled smoke of lovely plumes down upon Hunter. Pale colored tendrils rolled across his naked body. 

STRANGE thing for a creature to say!  

In a minute or two the Star Dragon took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went,  

One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter. 

“What???” Hunter finally spoke out loud. OUTSIDE his head. 

Hunter rolled off the HUGE mushroom they had been laying on and stood up upon the grass. His ears caught the distant engines of the Marauder approaching. 

The Duinuogwuin exhaled a huge lungful of multicolored smoke again. It wafted towards Hunter, enveloping him with whispers of ancient secrets. 

He inhaled deeply... 

The Marauder burst through the canopy, blowing away the smoke with its engines while bathing him in its landing lights. The ship slowly descended, with Wrecker and Crosshair stepping off the gangplank... 

Wrecker in his underwear and Crosshair wearing a hot pink atrocity. 

Hunter grinned and pointed. “Look at you TWO!” 

“Look at yourself, Hunter.” Cross snapped crankily. 

Hunter glanced down. Naked and covered in dried mud. Leaves, moss, and small plants stuck to various parts of him...including some small mushrooms. 

“You look like part of the forest!” Wrecker giggled. 

“Coming from someone who looks like a holomovie house floor.” Cross, miserably dehydrated, and his head pounded. 

“Ladies...we DON’T HAVE TIME TO COMPARE OUTFITS! Intel briefing with Rex in 40 standard minutes! LOOK SHARP!” Echo grumpily shouted from the ship. 

“WAIT!” Hunter interjected “My friend over here...” He spun around to empty, dark forest. Purple leaves of a huge Star Sedge bush danced in the breeze of the Marauder’s engines. 

Hunter stood stunned. Had he imagined the Space Dragon??? 

“HUNTER!!!” Echo shouted. 

Hunter dashed to the ship and scrambled aboard. He peered out just as the gangplank closed.  

He SWORE his vision detected a shadow just beyond the Sedge bush with two yellow eyes... 

but it COULD have been an ILLUSION...like it is with these types of things... 

I like the original song, and the P!nk cover. But this particular version is killer with the base turned way up while "chasing the white rabbit." Enjoy!

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #bad batch #tbb hunter #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb fan fiction #the bad batch fan fiction #star wars fan fic #star wars fan fiction #skellymom #high times #tbb fan fic high times #the bad batch fan fiction high times #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch echo #the bad batch tech #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch hunter fan fiction #the bad batch crosshair fan fiction #the bad batch tech fan fiction #the bad batch echo fan fiction #Youtube

[katyobsesses]

in the right place

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Alternate First Meeting

What if Tommy never left the 118?

word count: 985

AO3 LINK

The laughter around the table never failed to make Tommy smile as he ate.

These moments with the 118 had only just started to become the norm when he had applied for his transfer to Harbor. But, thankfully, that transfer had fallen through at the last minute and Bobby had agreed to keep him on for at least another year as he reapplied. And while becoming a pilot for the LAFD was Tommy’s dream, he was glad for the extra time spent with the 118 and its new dynamic.

The firehouse under Captain Gerrard was very much a thing of the past, now, and Tommy was glad that he was able to see the 118 become what it was today from the inside, rather than the outside looking in. It had become a family.

To which a new member was set to join today.

Everyone was in high spirits as they ate lunch, waiting for the new Probie to turn up.

Tommy spun his spaghetti onto his fork, humming in agreement to whatever Hen had just said as he ate it. He looked up from his plate as he chewed, and spotted a kid bounding his way across the walkway towards them.

He nudged Howie in the side with his elbow.

“Cap,” Howie relayed, his own mouth also still stuffed with pasta. Tommy rolled his eyes at him and Howie shot him a muffled What? before taking another bite with a smirk.

“Uh… Hi!” The kid greeted with a nervous little wave as he came to a stop, “I’m Evan Buckley? New recruit. I was told to report to Captain Nash…”

The table fell silent as the prank they’d planned for this moment got underway.

Bobby tilted his head to the side in believable mock confusion at Evan’s words, before turning to everyone at the table. Tommy had to take another bite of food to stop himself from either speaking up in the kid’s defense, or laughing at his expense.

 “You know a Captain Nash?” Bobby asked Howie, who, dramatically, shook his head, obviously trying not to laugh himself, “You?” Bobby asked Hen, who did a much more convincing head shake her face a mask of confusion.

“You?” Bobby finally asked Tommy. He swallowed his pasta, and his laughter, as he shook his head.

“Nope,” He answered with a shrug, lips threatening to quirk.

“Uh…” Evan started, his eyes widening and his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “Um…”

Finally Cap let him out of his misery with a smile, pulling the empty seat at his side out from the table.

“Take a seat, Evan,” He said, and finally Tommy could let his laugh free.

It came out louder than he expected, a full body laugh instead of the chuckle he’d been anticipating, but Evan had just looked so incredibly adorable with the dear in headlights look in his blue eyes, with the nervous fidgeting belied by a smile, with the way he jumped at the sound of Tommy’s laughter before laughing along with everyone else. A giant grin spread across Evan’s face, a flush gracing his cheeks and he ducked his head as he sat in the offered seat.

“Thanks,” Evan said before looking around at the plethora of plates on the table, then at everyone sitting around him. His blue eyes met Tommy’s and Tommy felt his heart literally skip a beat in his chest as that grin was turned in his direction.

“This is amazing,” Evan gushed, turning away from Tommy and beginning to load his plate, “Is it always like this?”

“Always,” Hen agreed, sharing a smile with Tommy and Howie. Tommy smiled back at her with a nod, while Howie swallowed his pasta.

“Well,” He added, “When Bobby’s in the Captain’s chair, anyway.”

 Evan smiled, ducking his head again as if trying to hide the look of disbelief that flashed across his face.

“Think I might be in the right place,” He said, mostly to himself, and begun to dig into his plate of spaghetti.

Tommy diverted his eyes from Evan, finally, and spun his spaghetti onto his fork, willing his heart rate to even out. He could feel Hen’s eyes on him from across the table and he risked a glance towards her.

She was looking at him with contemplation in her eyes, the look eerily similar to the one she got when she had just figured out some confusing medical emergency. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her in the universal signal for what? and she looked between himself and Evan before raising her own in return. Tommy felt his cheeks start to heat, as he took another bite of pasta and broke eye contact with Hen.

Fuck.

He’d had a plan. He was going to leave the 118, start anew someplace else, and finally stop lying to everyone around him, the way he had finally stopped lying to himself. He had decided it would be easier to be open with new people who didn’t really know him before; someplace he didn’t have a history.

But then his transfer had fallen through, and he’d had to add an extra year or so onto the timeline he’d set himself.

But maybe this was the Universe’s way of making sure he stuck to that timeline, regardless. This kid’s adorable awkward confidence and Tommy’s apparent inability to mask his reaction to it was going to be the thing to out him. He could feel it in the flush of his cheeks and the beating of his heart, in the smile he couldn’t seem to drop as Evan began his next sentence with Did you know..?

He looked back up from his plate, and over to Evan again, letting his macho mask fall as Evan’s face lit into an excited smile at one of Chimney’s dramatized stories of their saves.

Tommy wondered if, maybe, he was in the right place too.

#bucktommyweek #bucktommyweekend #bucktommy #kinkley #tevan #kinley #whatever their shipname is #bucktommy fanfic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 #911 abc #911 fanfiction #katy writes #katywrites

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Two (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but can you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Series genre: a LOT of tasty angst, tasty smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+ / NSFW / MDNI. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. Posting schedule and series masterlist are here. 

Author’s note: Thank you SO much for the response to Chapter One! And if you're still with it, I hope you enjoy chapter 2! It has been a LOOONNNNGGG time coming! 😆 This one is slightly shorter, with a bit of exposition to bridge between the OG instalment and the meat of our newly embarked upon continuation! The next chapters are where things really kick-off, but I do hope you enjoy this stoking of some tension, and, of course, finally seeing Santiago again - for the first time since the jarring conclusion to chapter one!!!!!! 

Word count: 4.8k for this part 

“It’s okay,” Frankie rumbles, looking at you levelly. “You can ask me about him.” 

You sigh, squirming in place - on the rear porch steps of your sister’s home - as your game is finally unmasked. Your pretense dashed. 

The hubbub of the lazy, Sunday BBQ is nothing but background to you now as Frankie zones in on your true wants, rendering you as an observer - rather than a participant - in the annual gathering you usually draw an abundance of joy from. 

Not so today, despite your best efforts at going through the motions. At pretending like everything is fine. 

Up to now, chatting idly with your bud in this safe little bubble, you’ve cycled through a gazillion conversation starters; each to emphasise just how interested you are in Frankie, and Whatever He Has Going On. Clearly though, you have failed to convince. Your friend simply knows you too well. Knows your weaknesses. 

Your one true weakness. Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

You look at kind-eyed Frankie apologetically from beneath your lashes, sorry that your flimsy chat has failed to mask your disinterest in... um, whatever it was he was saying. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cat.” Then, so help you, you ask the question you’ve actually been burning to ask all day. “How’s he doing, Frankie? Really?” 

Confirming the shift in tone, Frankie sets his plate of food aside and nestles his bottle of beer on the corner of the lowest porch step. Now you’re having a conversation. The pilot tents his fingers together in his lap, giving your question the full merit it deserves. “Pope?” 

Who else? 

“He’s… fine,” Frankie nods, studying your face as he says the words. Noticing -no doubt- the way you chew on your lip as your gaze wanders, fixing on the man in question. As you watch him mingle comfortably, effortlessly, amongst the throng of people on the lawn. Making connections, as per usual. 

Your stomach drops. An unease jostles in the pit of you. The niggle of regret. 

You shouldn’t have invited the guys here today. Shouldn’t have agreed to have them be present at your family gathering. Shouldn’t have agreed to follow-up it up with a squad weekend at the beach house - no matter that it’s tradition. But, then again, who were you to disrupt the usual way of things? And, more so, who were you to pretend that you didn’t want to see him again? After all this time? 

In truth, you had wanted nothing else but to see him again. That is, until you had laid eyes on him, and then, very quickly, you had pivoted. Wanted nothing more than to keep your distance. 

Why? 

Because by all accounts it’s true. 

Santiago is fine. 

Santiago certainly looks fine. He looks fine in all senses of the fucking word. He looks as though he’s thriving, in fact. 

Your face falls at the implication: that he’s thriving without you. 

With effort, you hum, schooling your expression into something neutral; however, Frankie’s already on to you. “Is that what you wanted to hear, chiquita?”

You turn your head towards your friend and exhale a small, pitiful laugh. Pondering Frankie’s question, you set your own plate and beer down too – a signal that shit’s getting real. 

Is it? 

Is that what you wanted to hear? 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, Cat.” With a dejected sigh, you lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder, hooking your arm into the crook of his elbow. “Does that make me cruel? If I don’t wanna hear that he’s happy?” 

Your buddy doesn’t answer rightaway, but he does rest a reassuring hand on your thigh in response, his plush bottom-lip protruding as he pouts – apparently mulling over whether or not to throw you a bone. “Okay. Look,” he begins  - always a soft-touch for you - and you instantly perk-up just a little. “He had a rough spell when you left and-” Frankie huffs out air, shaking his head as though he might have gone too far in divulging already “-fuck, actually, you don’t wanna know.” 

You head snaps up from Frankie’s shoulder as it begins to shake with mirth, your curiosity piqued. 

“What?” you probe, as Frankie turns his head to look at you, a smile cracking his sharp features. Apparently, Frankie has a small part of him which is cruel too. “We stumbled upon his heartbreak playlist. And it was not pretty.” 

“Come on now,” you protest, a little too defensively, your mouth suddenly dry.  “I hardly broke the fucker’s heart.” 

Frankie pumps his eyebrows. Shrugs his shoulders. Then, his bark-brown eyes mist over, just a little. “More likely than you think, chiquita.” 

With that, your eyes flick right back to Santiago’s figure on the other side of the yard, as if trying to reconcile Frankie’s assertion with the reality you see before you. After all, Santiago “Pope” Garcia looks fine. In all senses of the word. 

Right this second, for example, he’s engaged in a highly tactical water fight with your kid nephews. About to enter the killbox any moment, you wager, given that 5 and 7-year-olds don’t seem bound by those pesky rules of engagement. His cargo shorts are – naturally - far too tight, and he’s wearing his crisp blue shirt as though he forgot what buttons did half-way through getting dressed, the fabric split in a deep, plunging “V” across his tan chest. 

Despite all that, however, the thing which captures your attention most, is the beaming, wide-open grin he has painted on his face. 

He looks... 

...Happy.  

Genuinely happy. The bastard. 

This is the first time he’s seen you since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago. The first chance he’s had to make things right - and he hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. Despite being in your family’s yard. Eating your sister’s food. Playing with your goddamn nephews. You broke his heart, apparently. So Frankie tells you. And yet this fucker dares to looks happy. 

So… Is that what you wanted? 

For him to be happy? 

Without you? 

Or… is a small part of you cruel? 

You’re not sure about the answer to that question, but you do know that your eyes turn mildly devilish as they flick back towards your buddy, your voice hushed and downright conspiratorial. All of a sudden, you’re not concerned with being the bigger person. 

You decide you’ll willingly catch that bone Frankie is throwing. “Tell me more about this playlist, Francisco.” 

You need this, you justify internally. You need something. Some sign that Santiago is hurting too. 

You’ve needed this for months, in fact; but, goddamn - you especially need this before you and the squad spends a whole weekend together up at the beach house. 

You need it badly.

Why? 

Because you’re not fine. 

Not fine at all. 

Not fine without him. 

This is your family's yard, and it’s your family’s  party, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago… and you’re emphatically not happy about it. Have found that, despite what you had hoped for, your reunion hasn’t solved a damn thing. Hasn’t eased the knot in your chest. Hasn’t allowed you to feel any sense of resolution.

“Fuck.” Your eyes brim over with the realisation, wet and glassy, and a tight lump balls in your throat. 

“Come on,” Frankie mutters - softly but urgently - as your eyes begin to swim with emotion. He nods up towards the interior of the house, and you are endlessly grateful when, with minimal spectacle, your buddy bundles you inside, his arm slung casually around your shoulder for comfort. 

You’re not the retreating type. At all. You have always been comfortable running headlong into things that scare you. Even so, it is a marked relief when you do slink inside. A relief that you were able to save face. Keep your pain hidden. But, most of all, it is a relief that you no longer need to suffer Santiago’s abject joy. 

It is a relief in the same way it is to retreat from the blazing sun, and you immediately find sanctuary in the cool, shaded interior of the house. 

Still, given the tumult of emotions inspired by his general proximity today, you are less and less sure that you can handle this trip. 

The only thing pushing you to go through with it, in fact, is the knowledge that there’s one thing harder than being close to Santiago… and that’s being apart from him. 

Perhaps Frankie’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t break Santiago’s heart when you left. But, one thing’s for sure. Leaving him had certainly broken yours.

Truth be told, even after all this time, you’ve barely begun to put yourself back together. 

You’re in pieces; which - to be fair - is always how Santiago liked to see you, isn’t it? 

A friend. A soldier. A lover.  

That’s the only way you can stand to view him now. In mere fragments. In the shrapnel of stolen glances; because trying to see him all at once? That’s like trying to stare directly at the sun. 

He is too bright for you and it burns. Even with all this distance. 

***

You’re surrounded by laughter and chatter, yet you feel an unease. An unrest in the pit of you. 

Will’s ballcap is tugged down over your eyes under the guise of staying warm - a flimsy excuse, considering the raging fire pit in the centre of you all, acting as the warm sun to your orbits of beer, passed amiably around from hand to hand via the cooler at Will’s side. 

Naturally, the conversation has veered sharply towards the crude - it reliably does when you are and the boys are all together. 

“For real, Pope. Since we’re, uh, sharing,” Tom interjects, already looking far too pleased with himself. “Do you ever play up the knee thing to… encourage women to go on top?” Tom’s question earns shocked titters from Will and Frankie and, despite yourself, a softly exhaled laugh from you. 

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Santiago asks Tom with an assured grin, and, upon being subject to the group’s attention, he leans forward in his camp chair. He drains the dregs of his beer and tosses the emptied bottle into the gathering pile in the sand, the label already peeled off by his nimble fingers.

Tom presses him for an answer, and you see Santiago’s pearly flash of teeth glinting in the firelight. “Play it up, buddy?” Santiago emits a deep, throaty chuckle which bobs in his corded neck. The sound is echoed by the other boys too, the threshold for laughter pleasantly lowered by the alcohol. 

Their movements are growing increasingly pack-like - a little less measured and a little more instinctual. Less individual and more unified. Moving as a team even as they sit still, with their spread legs and dropped shoulders and dipped chins. Alert eyes glinting in the dark with each lick of flame. Their energy would intimidate you, you think, if you didn’t know them. If you didn’t feel safer here than anywhere else in the world.

Still wearing that grin, Santiago scoops his hand over his stubble, his finger and thumb tracing around his mouth. “It’s practically a pick-up strategy.” His voice is warm sand and it scrapes you. Leaves a mark. 

Frankie titters off to Santiago’s side - a chaotic, beer-addled laugh. To his other side, Will grins too, his laughter striking a robust and deep note, even whilst shaking his head as though he’s somehow above it all. Together, their sounds form a cacophony you can feel deep in your chest - like the rumble of bass from a speaker, or the subdued roar of the ocean. 

If they are a pack, you - for once - are at odds. You feel it now more than ever, and it jars you. You are hyper-conscious that no display of mirth falls from you; and, in fact, the corners of your mouth turn down. 

Instead, you dwell on this roar - this rumble and hum under your skin. If you feel like the tide, like you are being swept up, Santiago is your shore. Everything about him draws you in, and you feel you could wash him away with the force of your need for him. 

Regardless of that, you continue to do precisely what you’ve been doing all night. You try to bury everything. To subdue your feelings. To calm this frenzy deep in the pit of you. In this moment, thinking about Santiago pursuing people other than you - listening to the damn stories - you take that urge quite literally, digging your bare toes deeply and intently into the sand as though you could disappear wholly into it. 

But; even that reminds you. 

Everything reminds you. 

Santiago. 

You’ve thought of nothing else all night. 

How could you? 

And, you feel the lack of him. 

The roughness of the sand against your smooth skin is a poor substitute for the rasp of his stubble. For the grit of his voice against your throat. The warmth of the curling, licking flame is a poor substitute for his body heat. His curling tongue. His fingers. The way you bury your feelings has nothing on how he buried himself in you. 

You fall into memories, tacky and hot, tumbling, and yet Will’s voice rips you abruptly back to the present. 

“How in the hell do you spin that one, man?” he asks Santiago with a genuine curiosity, his ice blue eyes dancing with amusement.  

Santiago risks a sheepish glance at you then, as though sensitive that his prowess with women might offend you in some way; but your eyes simply glance off of his like a flung spark from the fire pit, desperate to turn towards the dark and rid yourself of any heat which he may ignite. Desperate not to linger on the way the shadows and the light pool across the harsh planes of his face. The way his dark eyes are flickering and alive, and entirely capable of burning. 

And so, Santiago continues, relishing his moment. “Come on. It’s easy,” he breezes. He clears his throat, fully readying to inhabit his role. He shuffles in his chair and changes his demeanour, his body language, his voice. Shifting and contorting himself until he is layered with seduction. His frame even grows bigger, bolder, his legs spread. Chin raised and eyes hooded with a slow, sultry blink of those long lashes. 

Even this performance of heat hurts you; burns. Burns brightly enough that you have to look away from him before your skin is singed by it. “Hermosa,” he rasps, voice pleasantly scuffed by beer and smoke, the sound so rough and gritty you swear you can feel it scrape your skin. Your core clenches around the full, deep, dark tones of him, as though they alone could fill you.

The fire throws out careless sparks like cracked whips, and, like them, you cling to a dying heat. This vestige of the way he spoke to you in the dead, dark night at one time, your bodies all salt-slick skin. “You’re right,” he purrs, and you see that his body has shifted - angled towards Tom. 

You feel embarrassed. You feel alight, as though somehow, they could all find you out in this moment. Could sense the wet slick pooling between your legs. Smell it somehow. Like all of a sudden their eyes will converge on you and they will know - hear the flutter of your pulse in your throat. Sense the throb building in your core. Feel you barrelling from dull ache to desperation. 

“About what?” Tom asks, playing along as Santiago sneaks a hand up his thigh. 

Santiago’s smile is lopsided. Charming, but full of challenge. “Thinking that I’m a bad idea.” He’s hamming it up, for sure, but the syrup and grit in his voice is taking you right back there all the same. Right back to between those sheets, and a disobedient heat snakes down your back. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Well,” Santiago offers with faux regret, voice husky, and you can’t help but lift your eyes back to him. Can’t possibly look anywhere else now. Can’t help but observe the smirk twitching his appealing mouth and the way his thick brow arcs up. “‘Cause my knees are shot from years in the military, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get on top and ride me senseless.” 

God in heaven.  

Looking at him was a mistake, even like this. Even as he feigns seducing Tom, of all people. There’s just something about the rough edge layered into his voice right now. Something about the firelight painting his sharply-angled face with shadow. The flickers causing his smouldering eyes to glint with an echo of that formidable, latent heat. 

You feel this vestige of warmth in you ignite. Feel it begin to blaze and catch. You feel memories of him, his skin, his touch, amassing grain by grain. Ever so suddenly you are the shore now. Parched. A hot, baking expanse seeking its relieving tide. 

God, you want him. 

You feel your core shiver around the memory of him slipped into you, deep and dirty, teeth on your throat, and it’s almost too much to take. 

You need him, even though you’re still so damn angry with him. 

Or… no. No, that’s not it. Yes - you want him because of it. 

You need to fuck the residual anger from beneath your skin, for it has festered there for months now. Months, and you need it to move. Need it to give. Need it slaked and sated and gone. 

It’s not a healthy desire, you think, and you feel a little shame at that. You are grateful then - as Santiago effortlessly drags you back into the inescapable pit of him - that the boys’ laughter tears you abruptly from this impossible yearning. Gives you a lifeline. Reminds you where you are. How far you’ve come. 

You got out. And that meant leaving him behind too, didn’t it? 

“You’re such a fucking dog, man,” Will snickers. 

The chair over, Frankie’s shoulders are shaking with laughter too, his head tipped up to the sky and his eyes disappeared with it. You wish that you could laugh like that. That you could feel light, but instead you feel heavy and sick. 

“That works?” Tom asks incredulously, and you take another hasty swig of your beer, the froth hissing against your lips and a hoppy taste flooding your tongue. You briefly wish it was something stronger.

“Don’t go getting ideas, Tom,” Santiago says smugly, slapping his buddy emphatically on the thigh. “Works when I do it.” 

Oh, you bet it does. You bet it works. 

Tom throws Santiago a stink-eye then, before sitting slightly taller in his chair, his face contorting in a clear attempt to smoulder. “My knees are shot from years in the military...” Tom echoes, trying to inject a similar level of grit into his voice... and, the contrast? The failure? It is… an instant relief. 

Tom’s attempt is laughable, in fact. And so, when your favourite pilot’s dense, throaty chuckle sounds out to your side once more – this time, you can’t help but crack a smile too. Indeed, the laughter which spills out of you is a welcome vent, and so you reach for it wholeheartedly. 

There is an eruption of good-natured, teasing banter from the boys now - and Tom looks miffed that his attempt to tease Santiago has almost entirely backfired. Then, grasping for this welcome escape route a tad too eagerly, perhaps, you submit your own dig. “You might wanna run that script again. Give us a little less of that insurance infomercial vibe next time, buddy.” 

Frankie can barely breathe from laughing now, his hand coming to clutch his belly, and it’s pleasantly infectious. The atmosphere is safe and cocooning and familiar, and for the first time tonight you almost forget. You almost forget the thing that you haven’t been able to forget for months. That Santi isn’t touching you, and that, God; you need him to. 

But then, your relief is snatched from you all too suddenly. “Well sure,” Tom aims, his shot primed to land. “You would know how it goes, right? First hand? Did Pope use that line on you too, right before he and that guy from the bar practically double-dipped you?” 

The group fucking brace. 

You can feel it. 

It’s the exact same energy as when you’ve all grabbed for purchase in the helo or the humvee, right before a collision. The world seeming to flow in slow motion, your stomach being tossed up in the air and rolling as you lurch and sink.  

Most of the time, sure. You pride yourself for being able to take the boys’ banter on the chin. For having a thick skin. For being able to muster a scathing comeback, rolling off your tongue without a thought. 

But this? This has you beat for a second. This has a sinkhole opening up in your middle.

You meet Will’s eyes for a split second in desperation, but he looks at you helplessly, and you know. You know you need to say something. You know you need to, before they witness -before he witnesses- you falling apart. Before you let your silence reveal that you’re not over Santiago. That this hang isn’t ‘just like old times’. Not like ‘before’. That maybe, it can never be how it was again. 

Finally, something comes to you, and you grab for it; once again, a little too eagerly. “At least I got some, Tom. I doubt you could even seal the deal these days.” You push the words out and hope they sound light, even as you feel a tremor in your body. In your throat. Even as you feel Santiago’s eyes on you without looking. Can imagine them, dark and knowing, and worst of all… apologetic. Maybe even pitying. “Oh hey! Just like your ‘career’ in real estate!”

“Ohhhhh shiiittt,” is the prevailing sentiment from the group, hands flung up into the air as Tom realises he’s just been owned by your spectacular throwdown. 

Good, you think. Good. You’re glad the asshole’s getting his comeuppance but, even so, your petty victory does little to fill the hole in your chest, your heart still hammering and your fingers still trembling subtly against the cool, wet neck of your beer. 

To your surprise though, Tom doesn’t even bite back. Not this time, and that makes you feel even more annoyed, somehow. It makes you feel as though your anger is misdirected. As though Tom’s not the asshole here. As though he’s not the dude you’re fuming at after all. 

Still, your comment served its purpose well enough, you think, as steady, safe banter erupts again. You are pleased that you avoided the full impact of this collision, brakes slammed on as you still teeter on the cliff edge; but your heart feels bruised and rattled in the roll cage of your chest all the same. 

Mainly though, you are pleased that you are no longer the focus of everyone’s attention. However, your skin warms when you notice one man’s eyes remain on you, his gaze fixated and hooded and intense, and a shiver of heat dips down each notch of your spine. 

You look away. You tug Will’s cap a little further down over your eyes and you wait. You wait for the topic to shift so that you can excuse yourself without the cause being quite so obvious. You wait, until you can’t take the heat from this fire a second longer. Then, and only then, you make your excuses and dip out, retreating into the empty, quiet shell of the house. 

You pad into the kitchen, the cool interior immediately relieving against your hot skin, gooseflesh snaking down your arms and making your hairs stand on end. The dim light is certainly a respite from the searing brightness of the fire and the sting of the smoke in your eyes. But most of all, of course, it is relief from him. 

Santiago. 

It’s rough. Rougher than you expected. You simply can’t take this distance from him. You’d thought, before, that the miles between you - between here and Colombia - had been hard to reckon with. But this distance? The vanishingly small distance where he’s right here yet has never felt further out of your reach? That’s a thousand times harder. This petty distance – this rupture, this wound – hurts far more, because it feels far harder to heal. Far more festering than a clean break, and seeing him has already torn out every self-applied suture. 

You don’t like that things seem to have been irrevocably changed. You don’t like that your two bodies - which used to be so in sync - are now so awkward around one another. Purposefully aloof, rather than tactile. Remaining so separate, rather than together. 

It has been slowly amassing all day, the weight of this pain. Of this lack. And now, after feeling the absence of his touch so intensely - of that blessed togetherness- ironically, you finally need a moment alone. 

You cross the room and fold yourself over the kitchen counter, hinging at the hips. You rest your head in your hands, laying your forearms flat along the cool, marbled surface. 

For a brief moment, it is even a relief. You breathe deeply. Put him out of your head. But, after only one moment more you find yourself missing the pain. You’ve become fond of it, in a way. You haven’t been able to let go because, in truth, you’ve wanted to feel the continued burn of this loss - like a scar.

It is the only proof you have left that he touched you at all. 

That you came close to having something with him. Within touching distance of it. 

But now… 

You sigh deeply. You hate this torment. You hate not knowing how to be around him. The way the familiar is recast as unfamiliar. Your certainty now uncertainty. Your home now a hotel. 

You’ve spent the whole day so far keeping your distance. Talking only to the group, always some buffer of Tom or Will or Frankie in between you. Always leaving one seat between your bodies. Avoiding prolonged eye contact. Going out of your way to make sure the two of you were never left alone.

Being left alone with him is the last thing you want; and the first, of course. 

And, as if on cue, a low whistle sounds from behind you. You know the sound without looking, and your body stiffens. “An ocean view and now this?” Santiago jokes cautiously as he approaches behind you, clearly faced with a perfect view of your ass as you fold over the counter. “Pretty sweet deal. You should get Tom in on this real estate action. He might actually sell something.” 

Despite everything, all of it, you can’t help but laugh at that. You appreciate the dig at Tom a hell of a lot more than you should, actually. 

“Listen. Are you… alright?” Santiago asks next, much more softly. You hate the way his voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck; but also, you don’t hate it at all, of course. 

You inhale and stand, pushing your torso up from the counter. You look up to the top of the cabinets, not blinking until the would-be tears have dried, and only then do you turn towards him. 

Santiago. 

Only then do you face your sun, praying that you will not be singed.  

All day, you have had a buffer in between the two of you. Clouds, to dim his brightness. But now, it is just you and him, alone in the kitchen of the beach house. 

This bland domesticity sure is a far cry from the field, yes. From your original shared domain. But, it also serves as an all too painful reminder of the last time you saw him. Of the last time his lips moved against yours. Of the last time, in that kitchen, that he’d had you. Taken you, bunched up naked against the fridge as he filled your slick heat with his fingers. As he kissed you and tongued you and claimed you back, as if he ever intended to keep you. 

It is a reminder of the time he had told you he loved you, and with finality, you had both realised that it still might not be enough.

You turn towards him, finally, and you brace. 

Brace like you’re about to collide. 

Like there will be an impact when your eyes meet.

Your brace like you’re expecting hot tempers, hot feelings, hot words. Wounds splitting and salt being rubbed in. 

Still, that’s not at all what you get. 

Instead, Santiago’s eyes are as wet as your own. All of his boldness and bluster is gone, and he’s standing on the very perimeter of the room as though he is the one who dares to venture no further. As though you might burn him if he gets too close. 

“I missed you,” he rasps, and despite the softness and the sincerity of the words, they feel like a rough struck match against your skin. 

You try desperately. Try desperately to fling this offered spark away before it catches, but it is futile. 

He missed you, and his admission already has you blazing for him. 

He’s standing mere feet from you.

And, despite everything, all you can think about is closing this oh so petty distance. 

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series #santiago pope garcia

[worldofheroes]

Teach You a Lesson

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: you and maverick continue to tease each other, and maverick finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+, language, unprotected sex

wc: 1.2k

a/n: based on this request! hope you enjoy.

“Jesus, Mav, get off of me,” you say over the comms, annoyed that you can’t shake him.

“I’ll get off of you when I’m done with you,” he tells you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Scared?”

“Not at all,” you say, maneuvering your jet so you fall behind Maverick’s.

“Oh, you’re not getting on top,” Maverick says in almost a growl.

The unexpected change in demeanor makes you jerk your plane to the right.

“Shit!” you exclaim, trying to recover.

“You forgot about the private comms, didn’t you?” Maverick teases.

“I wasn’t expecting my instructor to talk like that,” you say over the private comms.

“Mm, well, I like it when you’re under me, so we’ll have to change that,” Maverick says, and his jet moves in a backwards leapfrog maneuver.

“Fuck, Mav, you can’t talk like that!”

You hear tone.

“Fuck you!” you exclaim over comms.

“Knock it off.”

You land your plane and go over the post-flight checklist when Maverick walks up to you.

“You’re a good pilot, y/c/s,” Maverick states.

You don’t say anything.

“I’ll see you inside.”

During the debrief, you can’t focus. Your thoughts are filled with Maverick, and you can’t help but check him out the entire time.

Every so often, Maverick will catch you and shoot you a look, warning you to stop. Of course, you don’t.

Maverick takes another glance at you, and you drop your eyes to his crotch and back up, biting your lip. Maverick immediately breaks eye contact and you can see him set his jaw, trying not to react to you. You’re having fun teasing him like this during class.

Maverick dismisses the class an hour later.

“Y/c/s,” Maverick calls out.

You turn. “Yes Captain?”

“I wanna talk about what happened up there.”

“Sure,” you say, walking to the front of the classroom.

Maverick leans against the podium.

“You don’t like to follow rules, do you?” Maverick asks.

“Funny question coming from you,” you retort.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” you ask, taking a step closer and running a hand up his arm.

Maverick clenches his jaw. “You can’t do this here.”

“I believe you started it.”

“Watch your attitude.”

You bite your lip, dropping your hand from his arm.

“Just be careful,” Maverick says, standing up straight.

He walks past you, but pauses beside you.

“Come to my place tonight, 8pm. Some… disciplinary action needs to be taken,” he whispers.

You cock your head. “Is that so?”

Maverick nods as he walks away from you.

You watch him leave the classroom, surprised by the interaction that just happened.

Sure, you had a crush on your instructor, but you never thought he would do anything… you never thought he would say the things he did to you or invite you over.

Later that night, you park about a block away from Maverick’s and walk there.

When you knock on the door, he opens it instantly, pulling you in and shutting the door.

“Not even a hi?” you ask.

“I don’t want anyone to see us,” Maverick peeks out the blinds.

“No one’s around, Mav, no one saw me.”

Maverick nods and turns his full attention to you.

“Those things you did today were not nice,” Maverick says as he walks up to you.

“Mm, I barely did anything,” you tell him.

Maverick pushes you against the wall.

“I need to teach you a lesson.”

Maverick pauses for just a moment before he kisses you. His hands desperately touch you as his kiss deteriorates into open mouth kisses on your jaw and neck.

“Mav,” you sigh, your hands running through his hair.

“You were very naughty during class today,” he says into your skin.

“I was just paying attention to my teacher.”

“I think you were daydreaming about me.”

“And if I was?”

“I guess I’m gonna make your dreams come true.”

Maverick returns to kissing your lips, and your hands wander his body, desperately learning every curve and muscle.

“Mm,” he hums. “I think we need to change location.”

“Where to, Captain?”

“I think you know where,” he whispers.

You melt against him as he guides you backwards to his bedroom.

He gently pushes you down on the bed, and he takes his shirt off. He helps you with yours.

Maverick’s eyes scan your body.

“What?” you ask him.

“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just so pretty.”

You feel your face get hot.

“But enough of this, we need to get to your lesson,” Maverick almost growls.

“Shit,” you moan, closing your eyes.

Maverick works at your pants, kissing across your lower abdomen.

He hums against your skin as he pushes your legs open.

Your panties still clothe you, but you’re afraid they’re embarrassingly wet.

Maverick kisses your inner thigh, lightly sucking at your skin.

“Mav,” you whine in anticipation.

You feel Maverick smile against you. He places a gentle kiss on the fabric of your panties.

You bite your lip.

Maverick roughly pulls your panties down, and immediately goes back in, licking your wet cunt.

“Mav!” you exclaim with pleasure.

He hums against you, as his tongue circles your clit. He presses a finger against your slit, then pushes it in, making you moan loudly.

He continues to work at you with his mouth, and you are squirming beneath his touch.

Just as you feel yourself building to that edge, he stops.

“Mav,” you complain.

“Not yet,” he says, sitting up.

You watch him as he takes his pants and boxers off. You bite your lip, anticipating what’s about to happen next.

“Flip over,” he practically orders you, and you comply.

He wraps his own hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes as he teases you with his tip, gathering your slick as lube.

Maverick pushes into you, and a loud moan escapes you.

“Are you going to continue to give me attitude?” he asks you as he moves his hips painfully slow.

“No, s-sir,” you stammer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Oh yes, Mav, please just fuck me.”

“You need to promise me you’ll be a good girl.”

“Yes, I promise I’ll be a good girl!”

Maverick starts thrusting, and the room fills with moans from both you and him.

It feels so good. Maverick is definitely an experienced lover, and it’s something you’ve never experienced before.

Maverick works faster and harder, the noise of your bodies slapping together getting louder. Your moans fill the air, and Maverick can’t contain himself. You feel and sound so good.

“Shit,” Maverick mumbles, pace slightly faltering.

“Mav, I need more… almost there…” you moan into the mattress.

He’s able to hold on a little longer, thrusting hard into you, continuing to make you feel good.

“Mav!” you cry out as your orgasm washes over you.

Maverick groans loudly as his cum spills into you. He places gentle kisses on your back as you both come down from your highs.

Maverick moves to lay beside you, opening his arms for you to snuggle into, which you do happily.

He wraps his arms around you and gently kisses your forehead.

“Did you learn your lesson?” he chuckles softly.

“I don’t think so, you might have to teach me it again,” you tease.

Maverick smiles. “You’re bad.”

“I’m not the one fucking my student.”

“I’m not the one who didn’t try to stop it.”

You laugh, and wiggle in his arms to get comfortable, closing your eyes and dozing off in his arms.

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagine #top gun x reader #pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #pete maverick mitchell imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell imagine

[nunalastor]

An idea for a Hazbin Hotel Reaction fic-

What if the crew get grabbed for it a few months before the events of the Pilot?

Imagine, the story starts off relatively normal, and our starting cast consisting of Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, and Niffty. [I’m including the last two for Reaction potential with someone coming up later in this idea] They would be first watching the Pilot Thankfully for Angel Dust he wasn’t whisked away while he was having a shoot, but is at least mildly buzzed. Not not everyone’s so “lucky”, with Lucifer barely dressed up and in full depressed-dad mode, Husk still losing the whole pot (he doesn’t know it but he would’ve lost at that table anyways), and Vaggie while doing some sort of bandage-work almost revealing that she’s an angel, it sets up the thread of reactors possibly being taken during tense situations.

They get the usual message, that they’re stuck in a room together (and attached rooms with at least a kitchen space probably), until they all finish watching the series together, but they can take as much time as they want. Time has stopped for the world they come from, once they return it’ll be back to normal and all that jazz. They are also told that some additional people would be joining them/getting pulled in as they become more relevant in the story, but not always when they make their first appearance on screen.

Lucifer probably has a heart to heart with Charlie—if he isn’t too prideful at that moment—an Charlie hasn’t properly fixed up the hotel yet, but has been in the process of drafting up plans and a little through the intro she would invite Angel Dust to it. Lots of introductions made, and then they actually start watching the show.

The crew hears the thrum of a portal opening up, and Sir Pentious falls in. He’s holding the steering wheel of his airship—sooo that’s gonna be a fun problem to deal with when he gets back.

A portal opens for Razzle and Dazzle as the news segment pulls up, who were mauling some sinner that was about to mess with the hotel.

When the radio demon invites himself into becoming a sponsor for the hotel, the crew had almost expected him to come falling through as well, but hey since he didn’t, maybe they won’t have to worry about it? The guy seems pretty evil anyways, and the message given to them at the start implied that any new viewers probably wouldn’t try to kill anyone else there. Both Husk and Vaggie help build up this impression.

It is as the Pilot comes to a close that a red man crashes through and floods the room with the noise of static. A limp figure is covered in blood, barely breathing, limbs with snapped shackles on them. Clothed in what few damp rags would cover up the numerous wounds and scars on his skin. Gaze is hazy, but his eyes are wide and wide, confused and furious, and terrified. The big close-lipped smile is trembling with blood dripping from its stitches.

The seven years he would’ve been gone for were wouldn’t have been very kind to him.

It takes the crew a long while before they start watching the next episode.

(Alastor, wrapped in blankets and bandages and picking at the scabs forming around his mouth, has his arms around Niffty on the sofa. She too is wrapped in a blanket as an extra layer to help with touch-aversion.)

What comes next? What other discoveries will the Staff have later and how will that influence what they do when they get out? Will some of them want to get out? (Al will be fine though- they’ve probably set up a rescue or housing plan by that point, if at least because the Morningstars are as industrious as they are stubborn) Who knows, you decide on how you’d want to deal with such a total derailment of the plot! I just wanted an excuse for more Alastor whump-

(a sudden reunion with Vox and this Alastor would be fun)

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #niffty #gang gets grabbed #alastor #vox #razzle #dazzle #lucifer #charlie #vaggie #angel dust #husk

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Rules

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

CW: age gap (20-25 years), angsty angst - you've been warned <3

WC: 1600+

“What were you thinking?” Maverick roars, storming into the women’s locker room. “Are you insane?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” you yell in outrage. Thankfully, the room is empty and you’ve already changed.

“You could have died!” he shouts, slamming the side of his fist into a locker on his way toward you.

“I’m fine!” you protest. “Pilots make controlled landings with one engine all the damn time.”

“You were not in control!” His voice echoes around the room.

“I landed, didn’t I?”

Maverick stops before he’s reached you, bringing a fist to his face as if he’s trying to temper his rage. He lowers his gaze, shaking his head while trying to breathe through the episode. His jaw is clenched tightly as he glances up at you from underneath his furrowed eyebrows.

You hadn’t set out to anger him but, if you were being honest, his reaction doesn’t altogether upset you. You’ve had a crush on your instructor since he walked into the hangar on your first day at Top Gun, but he’s displayed no romantic interest in you whatsoever. In fact, his interactions with you have all been strictly professional and have always occurred in public.

The fact that he is so distraught over your risky landing that he’s burst into the women’s locker room to reprimand you shows that he has reasonably strong feelings about whether you live or die. Which you appreciate.

Maverick breathes out slowly. “You put yourself and your crew in jeopardy,” he says hoarsely. “I can’t have that happen on my watch,” he adds, his jaw shifting as he tries to keep it steady.

“Captain Mitchell, I’m telling you, I had full control” –

“You disobeyed a direct order!” His voice begins to rise again as he steps closer to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “With all due respect, sir,” you say, “it was the wrong one.”

“That’s not for you to decide!” he shouts. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“I didn’t want to lose the plane –” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses.

You sigh. “Fine, sir. I didn’t want to punch out and be grounded for the next six months doing rehab.”

“No, you’d rather leave here in a body bag,” he says with contempt.

You look down, affected by the hostility in his tone. “It won’t happen again,” you respond quietly.

“You’re damn right it won’t,” he says aggressively, taking another step toward you.

You bite your lip, glancing up at him guiltily. You’re surprised to see the tears in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to blink away. “Please don’t kick me out,” you whisper.

He presses his lips together into a thin line and gives his head a slight shake. “I should,” he says, running a hand over his mouth. “But you’re my best pilot.”

You take a shallow breath, feeling the tension in the room as if it were a physical thing. “Thank you,” you mutter, not sure if you’re thanking him for calling you his best pilot or for not stripping you of your wings.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and you take the opportunity to study him. He’s still in his flight suit which means he came straight here after landing his own jet. His stern expression has softened a touch, although his jaw is still set, and his light eyes seem to be searching for something to look at other than you.

You try in vain to ignore how sexy he looks despite the animosity twisting his features. You’ve wanted him for so long that it almost hurts to look at him. He’s nearly twice your age, and yet, somehow, that only makes him hotter. The fact that he takes his position of authority so seriously that his gaze has never lingered on you for longer than a second, despite your not-so-subtle flirting at the Hard Deck several nights this week, makes him practically irresistible – you haven’t met many men in your life who’ve been immune to your charms. You’ve fantasized about him enough that this entire scenario feels like just another one of your daydreams, except it’ll likely end much sooner than you’d like.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Maverick says quietly, his voice breaking over the last few words. He closes his eyes for a moment.

He glances back at you and your heart starts racing when your eyes meet. He watches you steadily and you feel as though you might melt under the intensity of his gaze. This is the longest he’s ever maintained eye contact, but you’ll be damned if you look away first. You lick your lips, biting into them nervously, and Maverick’s gaze flits down to witness the action.

Your breath catches when his eyes linger on your mouth. The way he tilts his head before glancing back into your eyes makes your head spin. You want him to step closer, but he obstinately keeps his distance, despite the aching look in his eye.

You decide to throw caution to the wind, peeling your back away from the cold steel of the locker behind you. You take a step forward, lifting your eyes to meet his once more.

His breathing quickens, but he still watches you without looking away – something he’s never allowed himself to do before. “Y/N,” he cautions, furrowing his eyebrows.

You take the desperation in his voice as a sign that he is conflicted, so you draw nearer.

“Y/N,” he repeats, this time in a whisper. You’ve gotten so close that you can feel his breath warm your cheek, but Maverick isn’t stepping away.

You swallow, stretching out your neck to bring your lips closer to his. You feel the violent flurry of butterflies as they descend upon your insides like a swarm of furious locusts. “Captain Mitchell,” you manage to utter.

“Y/N,” he says more forcefully. You feel his hands close around your arms, his grip tightening as he takes a step away from you. “We can’t,” he breathes, holding you at arm’s length.

You stare at him as his façade falls apart. The longing he’s tried so hard to suppress is written all over his face. You understand his reservations but, ultimately, you just want him too much. And now that you know he wants you too, no quantity of moral misgivings is going to stop you. You take a breath and then a defiant step forward. His outstretched arms yield easily as you advance and you can tell that his self-control is hanging by a thread. You lift your face to look at him.

Maverick’s hands slide up your arms, his chest rising and falling at a quickening pace. You feel his fingers skim over your shoulders and glide up your neck until he’s holding your face in his hands. He closes his eyes, letting his forehead meet yours as his ragged breaths warm the space between your lips and his.

Your eyes are half-closed, watching his lips part slowly. But the moment his mouth brushes over yours, your eyes flutter closed and you sink into him instinctively. The force of the kiss is dizzying. Maverick moves forward, absorbing you as the two of you slam into the lockers in behind with impossible force. The impact rattles the metal and the clatter reverberates around the empty room.

His tongue curves into your open mouth as you let out a small gasp, while his hand grips your hip, pressing you into the locker. His mouth moves over yours hungrily, as though kissing you is hardly enough, although the soft touch of his fingers as they glide down the side of your neck is the perfect counterpart to his aggressive kissing style.

But just as his hand begins to slip under your shirt, Maverick pulls away. He turns his back to you, holding a hand to his mouth as he breathes heavily into the silence.

“Maverick” – you start, but he holds up a hand, turning to look at you with a grim expression.

“I have to go,” he says so quietly that his voice cracks.

You stare at him in alarm even as he doesn’t move from the spot.

Maverick closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “I am twice your age, Y/N,” he says.

You swallow anxiously. “So?”

He scoffs, meeting your gaze. “I am your instructor. There are rules.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Since when does Pete Mitchell care about the rules?”

“I care about this one.”

You hold his gaze as he watches you, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, his breathing still uneven from his momentary lapse in self-regulation. “What do you care about more?” you ask quietly.

He flinches slightly as if your words have stung him. “I think you know,” he responds in a whisper, trying to break eye contact but, even as his head turns away, his gaze remains fixed on you.

Your heart is close to leaping right out of your body, but still, you shake your head.

He lets out an unsteady sigh, setting his jaw as he watches you wistfully. “If I don’t walk out right now,” he says, “I won’t be able to walk out at all.”

You feel the whirlwind intensify inside of you. “Then don’t.”

He chuckles, glancing back at you and, for a moment, you think that he might close the gap between the two of you in half a second, but he does no such thing. Instead, he says, “I am leaving because I care about you.” He gives you one last, heartbreaking look. “And you deserve better than this.”

Read Part 2

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#maverick x you #maverick #top gun #pete mitchell #tom cruise #maverick fanfic #maverick imagine #maverick x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x y/n #tom cruise x reader #top gun fanfic #maverick mitchell #maverick x female reader #maverick fic #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell fanfic #tom cruise x you

[oceansssblue]

Hi Sky!!!!! I saw your message!!! I'd love to help you out! How about a little Hunter and female reader drabble ;) Perhaps with the prompt 'nightmares'.

Hullo love! I seem to be in a Hunter streak lately, so we'll finish with this little drabble before switching to some other sexy clone.

Hope you like it, xx.

Sky.

"NIGHTMARES" –HUNTER/F READER

WARNINGS: MELANCHOLY, LOST OF A FAMILY MEMBER, FEELINGS, COMFORTING FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Hunter's six sense, as Omega often called it, woke him up in the middle of the night. He yawned in silence, blinking slowly; wondering at first what could have have happened to interrupt his slumber. He proped himself on his elbows and scanned the rest of the bunk room with his eyes; quickly noticing your bunk empty, bedsheets ruffled up as if you had left the room in a hassle, perhaps needing some air outside of the very manly smelling bedroom.

Hunter hummed distractedly and decided to go find your whereabouts; directing his sleepy, naked feet through the corridor towards the cockpit. He knew you came here to sit down and lose yourself to your thoughts and the stars when your mind felt too active; to try to center yourself and process your feelings and thoughts. To compartimentalise.

He came to a stop as soon as he saw you; observing you in the quiet of the night. You were, in fact, cuddled up in Tech's pilot chair; chin resting on top of your knees and eyes far away from the present reality of the Marauder. Hunter knew you were far, far away.

He resumed his steps and padded over to you; his voice finally annoucing his presence, voice raspy and deep with sleep.

"What are you thinking of this time, cyare?" he asked you, coming to a stop a meter away from you.

You turned towards him; eyes quickly scanning his comfortable thin pijamas –a set of deep blue shirt and low waist pants– and the sleepyness of his face. The lack of his red bandana was noticable –his hair falling freely and slightly tangled towards his shoulders–; giving his overall appearance a soft, safe look.

You pull up a small smile on your face, barely a tug of your lips; lingering sadness hiding from him.

"Do I have to be thinking on something specific?"

Hunter stays in silence, and then slowly makes himself a spot on the co-pilot chair next to you. His eyes are gentle and patient. Ah, there's no hiding away from Hunter.

You smile while redirecting your face towards the stars you can see through the Marauders front window and stay quiet for quite the time. Hunter doesn't say a word; nor interrupts.

"I was thinking of my sibling" you finally say, and you know he's paying attention without having to look back at him.

"Nightmares?" Is his only cautious word.

You shrug your shoulders and hum distractedly, eyes still lost on the stars in front of you.

"Yes, at first. It's what woke me up, and why I came here" you pause and quietly hum again. "It's not what I was thinking when you got here, though".

"What was that?"

You smile to the stars.

"I was imagining a conversation in my mind. Of what I think he'd have said of my intervention on our last mission, if he had saw that" You chuckle, finally turning to look back towards him.

Hunters lips turn up into a tiny nostalgic smile.

"Do you often do that? Speak with him like that, in your imagination?"

It's a private question; but you have full trust on Hunter. He's always been special to you.

"Sometimes" you confirm. "I know it might be weird, but it helps me feel him closer. Or even process his death better, even if it might look like the opposite".

Hunter gently places his hand on your shoulder. It's warm. It's him.

"I think it's sweet" he answers. "And if it makes you feel better, I see no problem with it".

You smile at him again. It's a bit less melancholic now, more sincere. More happy, eyes slightly sparkling in the darkness. More alive. Present.

"Thank you, Hunter".

He nods and slowly stands back up. He offers you a hand.

"Come on, cyare. Let's get some sleep back".

You glance one last time at the stars, breathe in and smile. You stand up, and slide your hand against his, letting him gently tug you towards the bunk room again.

He's the first to lay down in bed; helping you find a comfortable spot besides him afterwards. You both hug each other softly in bed, relishing in the safety of each others warm embrace.

Kind, polite, reserved, firm Hunter is always that for you; safe.

THE END.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tara! Really short but I feel it's quite intense at the same time. A bittersweet feeling. Heavy feels but warmth and understanding, and support.

Again, hope you've liked it!

Stay tunned like always my guys, more to come!

Back to my general masterlist here:

#hunter tbb #sargent hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #star wars #clones #fanfic #tbb #tech tbb #clone wars #echo tbb #fics #wrecker tbb #one shot #clone force 99 #light angst #comfort #fluff

[lightwise]

Be There - Parts 1 & 2

Note: As I like to do (aka my brain holds me hostage until it is satisfied), I had to fill in a couple of moments that we didn’t get in S3 E4 - A Different Approach. I am approaching Tech and Echo’s absence as each character is aware of it so far—so whether he is dead or simply gone, mentions of Tech are not meant to imply that he is physically present in these scenes. 

Enjoy. 

Read both parts together here on AO3.

SPOILERS for season 3 of TBB ahead.

Part 1: Our mission isn’t over yet. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Wrecker stared unblinking at the yellow transmission light as it lit up for the third time. Hunter had stepped away from the console for a brief minute to rest his eyes. This wasn’t standard procedure. When Echo or Rex or Phee needed to reach them, they usually used their wrist comms or the portable holo. The inbuilt console had been…Tech’s domain. 

“Uh, Hunter…you might wanna see this.”

A gruff sigh came from the pilot’s seat. “See what, Wreck?” 

The last beep finally entered Hunter’s consciousness as he tried to brush off the weariness that threatened to overtake him. So far they were only a third of the way around the sector found in the data from Setron. More time had been lost taking the cadets all the way out to Pabu too (not that he regretted the stop). His mind couldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop thinking through the next place they could look every time a planet turned up empty, but he could feel his ligaments starting to fray at the edges in protest. 

Wrecker would have pointed out that he had been falling apart at more than the edges for awhile now. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until they brought her home. He just needed to keep it together until then. 

“I…I don’t remember what the codes mean but…isn’t that…does this…”

Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get them to focus enough to read the sharp white letters that had appeared on the dashboard. Two innocuous lines, in an old coding sequence that Tech had set up before…he blinked that thought away. 

OM.P53.NMR.2SR. BT.

Plan 53 (all comms silent for a stealth rendezvous). Nearest moon of Ryloth. 2 standard rotations. Be there. 

But it was the first letters in the sequence that caused his heart to stop in his chest. 

“I shall make it so that the first two letters of each of our names signify who is sending the message. They should always be the first letters in the sequence.” A tilt of the head and a push of the goggles up his nose had accompanied Tech giving a very pointed look in Wrecker’s direction. “That should be easier to remember than full code names, I hope.”

OM. Omega. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Nobody outside of the Batch knew this frequency—or code.

“It’s HER.” 

He gripped the edge of the console in a daze. How?? She had escaped? She had somehow found a way to contact them. She…she was alive.

“But…how do we know for sure?” Wrecker’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “After all the luck we’ve been having…what if this is a trap, Hunter?”

The words Hunter had said before their failed mission to Eriadu haunted him now, thrown back in his face like a taunt. He knew Wrecker didn’t mean it that way, though.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I really don’t think so. But either way…we have to try it.” He glanced at the chronometer on the dash and pulled up the coordinates to Ryloth. “Especially this location…only Omega would have picked here, where she met Hera for the first time. She knows it will be off the radar but easy to get to. We can just make it if we get going now.” He had barely swung the pilot’s seat back around before furiously punching in the coordinates. 

The Marauder’s engines picked up from their lull as they launched forward into hyperspace. Wrecker slumped into the seat beside him, staring out the flickering blue around them for a long moment. He had picked up Lula from her perch on Omega’s blanket at some point, and was passing her tenderly back and forth in his hands. 

“I really hope you’re right.”

They cautiously exchanged glances as the shock and adrenaline of the last few minutes wore off. For the first time in a very, very, long time, Hunter felt the faintest flicker of something he could call hope. But he didn’t dare let it burst into full flame. Not yet. 

Wrecker suddenly chuckled and clapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Ya know, we’re a mess. We really should clean up before we get there.” His voice lowered a bit as he added, “no reason making her worry any more than she probably already is at how rough we look.” 

Hunter scowled and pinched his brow. His brother was right. The lack of sleep and hygiene had caught up with them at this point, and they smelled worse than they looked. Omega would be able to see the wear and tear on their armor eventually, but at least they could be presentable to welcome her home. 

“Fine, I’ll go shower,” he huffed, giving Wrecker a strained grin that turned into a groan as he tore his limbs out of the seat. 

The view in the mirror only confirmed his disheveled state, and he groaned again as he tugged the bandana off his forehead and slumped against the fresher wall.

Please, please let this be real. I don’t know if I can bear another false lead.

They had crossed the galaxy five times at this point. He would a hundred more if that’s what it took. They didn’t leave their own behind.

Most of the time. 

His ears began ringing. The unbidden thought that had been slowly poking its way through his subconscious finally breached the surface. What if…what if Omega had been taken to the same facility as Crosshair. What if they had found each other? What if…she wasn’t alone?

Deke’s words had been painfully etching their way deeper and deeper into his heart since the boy had carelessly uttered them.

“At least you’re loyal.” 

If only he knew. Once Hunter had claimed those words proudly. It was the ethos he had lived by. Still wanted to live by. But…he wasn’t sure he deserved that label anymore. Too many mistakes had been made. He had failed too many times. 

Echo had told him once that their unbeatable streak on missions during the war wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And every time Hunter thought he was making the right decision, he ended up proving him right. He wasn’t prepared for the weight of failure. For the ways everything kept slipping through his clenched fists. For watching his brother point a rifle in his face and walk away. For not having the right words to bring him back. For all the ways he had to choose when there was no good choice to be had. For watching his entire world fall away. For picking shattered goggles up off the ground. For the dark and empty gunners mount that had been staring him in the face for five and a half months. 

Silver hair and a toothpick between thin lips suddenly floated in front of his eyes, sneering at him. Every choice you’ve made has been wrong. We’re all lost because of you. And then it shifted, the silver hair morphing into a scarred head and terrified, wide eyes that glistened with tears. Begging, pleading. Why weren’t you weren’t loyal to me?

No, no, no, NO. Hunter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to stop the vortex spinning out of control inside his head. A sob escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. He could never repair any of this. He didn’t know how. 

He sucked in a breath as he felt the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder that couldn’t possibly be there. A clipped voice suddenly echoed through his mind. I have found that repairs, while daunting at first, simply take repeated effort and inclination in order to achieve them. It’s like a puzzle. The pieces are there, you just have to pay attention and take the time to put them back together. Steady hands. No Hunter, try moving it this way. See? I knew you could do it. 

If only he was here. Hunter wiped the traces of tears from his eyes as his hitched breathing slowly evened out. Whatever—whoever was waiting for them on that moon—he would have to face them. Whether it was a waking dream or another nightmare. He had crossed the galaxy five times in as many months. But he still hadn’t been able to outrun the pain. Hadn’t been able to outrun himself.  

It was time to try a different approach.   

Maybe not everything had to be lost. 

-----------

Part 2: You don’t know if they’re still alive.  

“They’ll be there.”

She had cut him off adamantly. The full force of her hope (her naïveté, he had called it just a few hours prior), pushing firmly against his gentle attempt at reason. 

Crosshair knew he wasn’t just trying to prepare Omega for the possibility that Hunter and Wrecker might not be waiting for them. For them? No, they would only be waiting for her. They had stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

No, his words were more an attempt at quelling his own twisted anxiety at the prospect of facing his brothers again. It had been…a year? More? Since he had stayed behind on that blasted platform. It felt like ten lifetimes ago now. So much had changed. He had changed. Or had he? 

 A staccato thud flung them out of hyperspace, the stolen freighter now drifting quietly past the two giant orange moons that guarded Omega’s choice of rendezvous. 

Still standing behind the copilot chair, his trained eye spotted the tiny speck of light coming from the open ramp of the Marauder. So they were alive. Of course. The tiniest twitch spasmed in Crosshair’s chest at the sight. 

That open door was for her, he reminded himself again. Not him. 

The girl stood unmoving as they touched down. Her spine straight, shoulders pulling down and back, and he could see the faintest reflection in the viewport of tears welling up in her eyes. 

The ramp began to lower and she suddenly came to life, arms and legs almost flailing in her haste to reach the ground. Though he could no longer see her face, as she paused at the last step Crosshair could tell that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The weight of taking care of herself, taking care of him, getting them both to safety. 

She had accomplished her mission. 

He had to admit, he was impressed by her. Maybe he was starting to understand a little of how quickly Hunter’s loyalty had transferred to her, how she must have driven them all crazy at first with her bright-eyed optimism and inability to take no for an answer.

She really was the best of them. 

He sighed as her words echoed in his mind—“I’m not giving up, Crosshair! I won’t let you either.” Her stubbornness was certainly the family trait, and perhaps surpassed his own.  

Those words had somehow burrowed into his chest and wouldn’t leave. But they hadn’t shocked him. He expected her to say them to anyone. They fit perfectly within the love and loyalty she showed everyone around her.     

What had shocked him were the ones she said later, after he had tried every tactic he could think of to get her focus off of him and onto her own safety. He had long since accepted what the rest of his accelerated lifespan might be—serving as a test tube and punching bag for the Empire he had once sought glory from. How fitting, really. It was his penance, for everything he had done. Everything he had failed to do. 

Why should he have a chance to live when...he sighed again and pushed away the memories threatening to engulf him. Long brown hair and a beard blurred white with snow. Round, yellow-tinted lenses blinking pointedly in his direction. The remnants of a skull chalked onto the back wall of a bunk—just enough dust left to stain his fingers. 

“None of us belong here.”

The Empire changed people. For the worse. But after all those months of isolation, all his attempts to drive her away, to keep his distance so she would stay safe—he never expected for those wide eyes to practically beam sunlight at him in that force-forsaken, grey haze of a prison. She had seen him, then. Truly seen him for who he was—and still believed in him. In all of them.  

She had tried to give him the same outstretched hand many times before—during their desperate attempts to flee the sinking facilities of Kamino; on the sun-soaked platform after. In that makeshift holding cell after Kaller, where all of this had started. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she had offered it one more time, or that he was finally willing to try and accept it. 

Batcher whined from her corner of the cockpit, tilting her head hesitantly at Crosshair as he remained fixated, unable to move from the viewport. His musings faded as he saw a shift in the light; Wrecker’s large form had suddenly darkened the doorway of the Marauder. 

Crosshair dug his spine into the door frame behind him, waiting. 

He didn’t have Hunter’s hearing, but he didn’t need it. He could imagine just how loud the shout of joy was that Wrecker let out as he ran to meet his little—their little sister. A faint smirk threatened to tilt his lips as the giant of a man lifted Omega high above his head and spun her around, wiping tears unashamedly from his eyes. Crosshair expected nothing less. He was sure there were matching tears streaming down Omega’s face as she clung desperately to her—their brother.

But where was…Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as they caught movement inside the Marauder. Was he truly prepared to see the etched face of his former leader, brother—friend—once again? A now familiar yet terrifyingly unwelcome spasm in his hand told him he was not.  

Hunter emerged from the shadows, stopping before the overhead light could illuminate his face. 

He must have said something, before practically leaping down the Marauder’s ramp as Omega catapulted herself forward again. Crosshair’s eyes softened as he watched his stoic, touch-averse brother cradle the girl in his arms, his eyes closed, his hands shifting over her back as though he would never let her go. 

Could he blame him?

But the atmosphere shifted abruptly as Hunter pulled back, his warm smile and affectionate gaze at Omega turning into a wide-eyed, disbelieving gape as he lifted his eyes toward the freighter behind her. There was no way he could see him through the tint of the cockpit, but his other senses were more than adequate at that distance. Hunter had finally realized that Omega had not escaped alone.

Crosshair felt panic wash over him. His gaze shifted to the pilot’s controls. It would be so easy to take the wheel and disappear, leave them all behind once again. Omega was safe. That was all that mattered, right? He could ditch the ship and find work on some backwater planet, do his best to keep off the Empire’s radar.

Batcher slowly shook herself and stood up from where she had been napping the last few hours, her eyes never leaving his. His lips tightened into a thin line as they stared each other down.  

He finally let out a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and crouching down until he could rest his hand on the curve of her head. 

“I know, I know.”

She growled a little and then licked his hand, pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave in return. 

“I’m done running. Promise.” 

He achingly stood back to his full height and turned toward the back of the ship. He could almost feel Hunter’s shocked gaze still on him. Whatever message Omega had sent them, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to walk down that ramp after her. After all the wrong choices—how could this one possibly go any better?

The tremor took over his hand again. But he suddenly, faintly, felt the pressure of a familiar, slender hand on his shoulder. And another, firmer grip cradling his trembling fingers, easing the shattered nerves. A pulse he thought he would never hear again thrummed next to his own for the briefest of seconds. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

It was time to try living again. 

Divider by the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ✨

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch fanfiction #fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #a different approach #some light ramblings #somelightramblings

[bimobuddy]

As You Wish

SFW Hazbin TK Fic

Lee!Vaggie, Ler!Charlie

Writing this because I'm going to go see the Princess Bride with some friends today, we're dressing up in Medieval style clothing, and one of the actors will actually be there, I'm so freaking excited y'all

Edit: Posting this the day after, my friend ended up picking me up early and I had to stop writing, and then I couldn't finish when I got home because I had a migraine from the overstimulation, but it was fun as hell

This sort of combines Pilot!Vaggie and Canon!Vaggie because I wanted a reason to include her being alive in the 90s to have watched the movie, so this will have some❗Spoilers❗ I know it doesn't make complete sense with the show, but please be nice to me I'm trying 💀

Summary: Vaggie shows Charlie the movie 'Princess Bride,' though the longer the movie goes on, the more she notices her princess getting squirmy and restless, which is a sign that chaos is about to ensue.

Charlie sat on their bed, bouncing excitedly. Vaggie had told her she had a surprise for her, and to go wait for her in their room. The princess didn't know what was in store for her, but she was having a lot of trouble containing her excitement.

When the angel finally did enter the room, she had a small box in her hand and a bag over her shoulder. "Okay, I would have shown you this sooner, but it's hard to get Earth items in Hell. Lucky for us though, I paid a Hellhound to get us a copy of one of my favorite movies." Vaggie held up a VHS tape excitedly. Or as excited as she could express.

Charlie practically leapt off the bed and rushed over, excitedly holding her girlfriend's arm as she bounced. "What is it?" She asked, tilting her head like a confused puppy. "This, Charlie, is a VHS tape, it's how movies were played when I was still alive. The entire thing is recorded on a tape in this box." She answered, waving the tape a little.

She walked more into their room and set the bag down. "I also asked Alastor to summon us a VCR-" She reached into her bag and pulled out a bigger, odd looking box. The cables attached themselves to the TV on the dresser. Instead of buttons, little eyes popped opened and looked up at Vaggie, the slot opening as well, showing sharp teeth inside.

"Are... They supposed to look like that?" Charlie asked, looking over Vaggie's shoulder. The angel sighed, "No, but you know how Alastor is." She smiled a little at Charlie, "Go ahead and get comfy while I figure this out." Charlie grinned and clapped her hands a little, running off to change into pajamas.

Vaggie went to slide the tape into the VCR, only for the thing to start snapping its jaws eagerly for the tape. Worried it would snap it in half, she grabbed its upper jaw to keep it from biting down, and quickly slid the tape in before letting go. The VCR swallowed it, closing its eyes momentarily before opening them again as it started a low, familiar click and whirring sound that Vaggie didn't even know she had missed.

When Charlie came back out and pearched herself up on the bed, Vaggie tilted her head and looked back down at the VCR. "It doesn't have any buttons... Uh... Play?" On command, the TV turned on and started up the movie, signaling to the angel to join her girlfriend on the bed. As previews for other movies started playing, Charlie took Vaggie's hand.

"So... What are we watching?" She asked Vaggie mentally facepalmed. "Oh! Right- It's called the Princess Bride, it's great. So there's this Princess who's in love-" "*Gasp* I'm a Princess in love!!" "*chuckle* With a farm boy named Westley- Oh you know what, just watch the movie, don't ask me to spoil it!" She grinned, gently pinching Charlie around the waist, making her squeak and smack her hand away.

As the movie played, Vaggie found herself leaning forward a little, sitting criss-cross, watching the movie the same way she had when she had first seen it as a kid. The only difference being this time she had someone leaning their full weight against her.

By the time Prince Humperdinck was knocking Westley out, Vaggie felt Charlie start to shift. And shift again. Then a big sigh. This was a pattern she was used to, that also caused her stomach to flutter with anticipation, knowing exactly what Charlie was about to do. "Oh no, don't you dare, Charlie Morningstar-" "Whaaaat, I'm not dohoing anythihing~" Charlie lied, her arms already wrapping around Vaggie's waist.

Vaggie found herself trying not to giggle along with her. "Yehes you are you liar! How are you even bored, this is like the best movie humans have ever made!" "I'm not bored! I've just got energy! And you're right there, how can I resist??" Before Vaggie could argue, Charlie had slipped a hand under her shirt to gently scritch-scratch at her tummy, something she knew the angel couldn't stand.

"Chahaharlie!!" She leaned her head back against the Princess' chest and giggled, her eyes squeezed shut as she kicked out, kicking the sheets into a messy pile at the foot of the bed.

Charlie grinned and started peppering kisses into her girlfriend's neck, causing her giggles to go a higher pitch while she scrunched her shoulders up. "Chahahaharlie nohoho- eek! Quihihihit!"

Vaggie flipped over, trying to wrestle her down, only for Charlie to pull out her demon strength unfairly, pinning her down on her tummy. Charlie sat on her back and started to tickle around her shoulder blades.

"NOHO YOU- AH NOHOHO! CHAHAHAHARLIE!" Vaggie pleaded before buring her face into the sheets to muffle her shrieking laughter and squealing. Her elbows were pinned to her sides and her hand rapidly smacked the bed, unable to handle the sensation.

-FWOOSH-

Charlie couldn't hold back her happy giggles as Vaggie's wings popped out. Ever since she found out, ever since she saw them for the first time, she fell in love with them. She thought they were beautiful. Even through their rocky moment after she found out, when she saw Vaggie approach her with her wings out, she thought they were gorgeous.

She gave the angel beneath her a moment to catch her breath before she ran her fingers through the feathers, earning more muffled squeals while her wings fluttered and tried to fold back up. But the moment they were raised even just slightly, the Princess slipped her hands underneath to scritch at the 'pits' of her wings.

Vaggie immediately cackled loudly into the bed, her legs kicking and drumming behind her. Her wings, no longer under her control, flapped wildly. She turned her face to the side, no longer muffling her laugh. "AHH HAHAHAHA! CHAHA- CHARLIHIE NOITSSOBAD PLEHEHEASE!"

Charlie was already planning on stopping but when she got a face full of feathers as a wing slapped her in the face, she knew it was time to stop. And so she did, getting off of her and laying back down, grinning, proud of herself. When Vaggie didn't immediately join her, she reached over and dragged her over, kissing the top of her head sweetly as she did so.

With their blankets kicked onto the floor now, Vaggie made use of her wings, draping them over Charlie and herself. She looked at the TV and noticed the movie was almost over.

".... Can we restart it?" She asked, looking back up at the princess. Her Princess.

Charlie smiled, pressing their foreheads together.

"As you wish."

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!vaggie #ler!charlie #wing tickles

[nerdieforpedro]

A New Tradition with Frankie

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x GN reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Summary: An adventure in baking leads to fun and laughter at your expense. But in the end, his smile is what matters.

Warnings: likely bad baking directions, jokes in very poor taste, cursing, Frankie having fun at your expense, domestic fluff

Notes: I wanted to give Frankie some fluff. In my previous Frankie Fridays, I've been having that man work through his trauma. He needed some pure fluff and laughs. I did look up how to make gingerbread cookies but unlike many of the wonderful baking posts by @avastrasposts I have no idea what I’m doing. 😆 I made a post yesterday about what my chocolate chip cookies looked like and I cannot be trusted with an oven.

Word Count: approx. 1.2K

The directions had been clear and you read them twice before starting. You even tailored your shopping list to them and had double checked you had all the ingredients two days ago. Why do they all look like piles of lumpy dirt?

Now the ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar, molasses give it the brown color which makes sense. The wet ingredients you added after the dry because that’s what they always did on one of your favorite shows ‘Nailed it!’ and you made fun of the bakers who dumped everything in at once. You swear you’re not like them. You promise. 

The dough sat in the fridge for two and a half hours. The minimum was two but you were checking emails on your phone and lost track of time. A rolling pin was bought for this, you hadn’t owned one, never needed one but you got one. A good one not from the dollar store, but from Target. Rolled out the dough, shaped the little gingerbread cookies, set the oven to 350 degrees and put them in, rotating them halfway so they would bake evenly. The cookies had been rising and rising and maybe they rose a bit too much, but maybe it would fall like a cake. They all rise and fall right?

But now, these cookies mock you, they’re huge, puffy, oblong. Not the cute circles you’d cut out less than 30 minutes ago. What can you do with them?

“Hermosa (gorgeous), I’m home. Benny lost to the Raz guy again. He’s really got to train harder.” Your husband walked in, setting his keys in the dish by the door and slipping his boots off. He was making his way to the kitchen. You threw a dish towel over the cookies in a vain attempt to hide them. He’s a pilot whose job it is to keep track of minute details that can disrupt a flight plan. You’re not hiding anything. 

“Hey Frankie. Benny lost again? Maybe he should take a break for a bit like you said.” You smiled, your fingers nervously tapping your thigh. He was scanning you and the room.

“Hermosa. What’s under the cloth? This isn’t the day you murder me for wearing shoes inside the house is it?” He laughed moving toward you and those abominations called cookies. 

“No. And I mention one time how I don’t like dirt tracked in the house and you go right to murder Morales. Jeez.” You crossed your arms in false offense before pulling him close to you by his arms. “You have to pay the toll, you know. Just gonna walk in this house and think you don’t. Mighty full of yourself sir.” You grinned and placed a soft peck on his lips. Frankie smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, deepening the kiss before stepping back, holding the dishcloth.

“I’m a man who pays his debts.” He took one look at the oversized cookies and doubled over in laughter. “Hermosa no, baby why? These are the gingerbread cookies you talked about? They look like…like..”

“Don’t say it…” You covered your ears. You’d hear him anyways, but it didn’t stop you from being mortified that he saw them and what you both knew they looked like.

“Like what came out of Santi’s dog after he gave him that kibble with the extra fiber..!” Frankie continued to bellow with glee, clumsy stepping back. Your hands went from your ears to your hips, face burning with annoyance but also glee that he was able to laugh so freely. It used to be difficult to get a chuckle out of the man when he wasn’t with his brothers in arms. 

“I used to like you Frankie. Damn it.” At this point, you’re biting your lips to hold back your own laugh. Morales is red in the face, starting to wheeze.

“Hermosa, you know I love you.” Despite his eyes starting to water, he’s stepping toward you, in an effort to get away from him, you move to the other side of the table when he easily uses his long legs to intercept and catch you from behind, nuzzling his chin in your neck while still chuckling. “I love you and your shity looking cookies.”

“You’re lucky, you’re cute and I’m a sucker for men who like my shity looking cookies.”

You finally gave in and giggled in his arms as he rocked you from side to side.

“Did you try them? Are they edible?” He asked, waddling back over to the cookies with you.

“I hadn’t tried them yet. I was so taken with what they looked like.” You admitted. 

The both of you agreed to break a cookie in half to try. Now standing side by side, you counted to three and bit into the cookie. It was warm, fluffy and actually tasted sweet. Like gingerbread.

“Damn mi vida (my life), they look horrible, but taste great. This is your first time making them right?” Frankie asked, chewing it and downed the other half. He kissed your forehead, leaving a few crumbs from his patchy beard which you brushed off your head. 

“Yeah. I wanted to try and make a tradition for us, and surprise you. I guess I did both. Not exactly how I planned though.” You finished your half of the cookie as well, licking your lips. Proud that you did at least make something that tasted good. In the midst of studying the cookies, you saw a glint of something. Turning, Frankie had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures of the cookies. “Morales! Don’t you dare!” You lunged in an effort to grab his phone from him, he put his hands up and out of your reach.

“I gotta save the memory of these cookies! You understand mi vida?” That booming laugh of his returned as his hands snaked around your sides. You twisted your mouth, determined to let him know that you weren’t ok with him taking pictures of your baking disaster. But he was laughing so much more, more than he had been in months.

“Just don’t send them to the guys. Please Francisco.” His smile curved into a grin.

“I’m Francisco now? Well maybe I should, since I’ve been downgraded to Francisco.” He touched his prominent nose to yours, rubbing it slightly. It tickled and you drew back before rubbing yours against his. 

“I just called you by your name. I’m serious. Don’t. Benny still calls me Baby Legs from when I did shots with you guys.” Morales bites his bottom lips before digging his face into your shoulder, you feel the vibrations of his laughter on your skin.

“I know, I know.” He assured you when he picked his head back up, he put his phone in his pocket and placed his palm on your cheek. “Next time we’ll bake them together, alright mi amor (my love)? We’ll make it a tradition like you said.” You both took another look at the bloated cookies and laughed together, echoing so the neighbors could hear if they chose to.

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[midsummernightwrites]

moments while you’re away

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x female reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: You always missed Bradley when he was deployed so you start writing him notes while he’s away. You don’t send them, but they make you feel like he’s still around when he’s hundreds of miles away. // small moments where Y/N (and eventually their son Nick too) writes letters to Bradley about what he’s missing while he’s away

warnings: none that i can think of, it’s mostly fluff with some small moments of angst. 

It was never easy when Bradley was away on deployment.

From early on, you struggled when he was gone. You missed him beside you as you slept. You longed for his laughter to fill the room as you made breakfast in the home you made together. No reassurances could quell the lingering anxiety that filled your stomach anytime you imagined what he was doing miles away.

You never wanted to add to his worry so you tried to cope with him being away as best you could. You tried tennis and pilates and other physical activities to try and distract your heart. You invested in knitting needles and a new yoga mat with a matching workout set but none of it helped when you returned to your empty house.

Nothing seemed to work until you started writing notes one late September night.

Bradley had been gone for a week and wasn’t due home for at least two more. You were distracted with the start of the new school year but had so much you wanted to tell him about your new classroom of third graders. There were always so many stories you wanted to share with him, but the phone calls were never long enough and you occupied yourself with other activities as soon as he returned.

So, you decided to write them down and put them somewhere safe so that you could share them once he was home.

Hi Roos,

You helped me earn some cool teacher cred with my students today…

“Ms. Y/L/N, look! I made a plane!” one student excitedly shared as you walked around during their free play time.

“Wow, that’s amazing my friend!” you replied, pausing at their desk. “Did you know my friends are pilots?”

“Really?”

“Yup! They fly jets for the Navy,” you shared, “They go super fast and travel all over the world to help protect us.”

“You know real life pilots? Are you lying Ms. Y/L/N?” another student chimed in.

“I’m telling the truth, I promise,” you laughed, “Remind me to show you all some pictures during our share time tomorrow.”

“Can we meet them? I wanna see a real life pilot!”

“Can we go on the planes?”

After the first note, it became routine to write these small letters to Bradley. You kept them in a box underneath your bed and over the years, as your relationship grew, the box became full of scribbled messages and short letters.

Bradley,

You haven’t called or texted me in four days and I’m so scared. I’m trying to believe that you’re just busy or can’t be on your phone for some stupid classified reason but I’m so terrified that something bad happened. I really hate your job right now and I really need you to tell me that you’re okay.

You checked your phone every five seconds. You tried to distract yourself with the latest episode of the Bachelor but even trashy reality tv couldn’t take your mind off the intense fear you felt as you still didn’t hear from him.

Was he already dead? Had he already left you? You couldn’t stop the what if scenarios as they swirled around and around in your head. You had to hide in the staff restroom during lunch when you couldn’t hold your tears in any longer. He had never gone this long without contacting you, not without warning or an explanation before.

“It’ll be fine, he’s fine,” you repeated to yourself as you held back tears. You couldn’t stop fidgeting with the necklace he had gifted you for your one year anniversary and you were running on limited sleep since your dreams had quickly turned to nightmares about all the potential ways Bradley was hurt.

You heard a car pull up and your heart started racing. Was this that moment? The moment when you heard a knock at the door and opened it to find two strangers in a uniform who’d deliver the worst news of your life.

God he couldn’t be gone, not yet.

Instead of a knock, you heard the front door unlock. You jumped up as it opened, and nearly burst into tears at the sight of Rooster walking through the door.

“You’re home,” you muttered, your body moving on auto pilot as you jumped into his arms. He was okay, he was here, he was home.

“I missed you so much baby,” Bradley held you tight, pressing soft kisses on your head as you buried your face in his neck. As much as you never wanted to leave the comfort of his hold, you couldn’t stop the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“What happened?” You demanded as you pulled back. “You didn’t answer any of my texts or even tell me you were coming home. I thought, I mean, god Bradley, I was so worried.”

Your voice shook slightly as a few more tears escaped. The guilt on his face was blurry, but still there as he set you down next to him on the couch.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, so fucking sorry,” He wiped your tears away, placing soft kisses on your lips between his apologies. “There were some issues with our mission and I broke my phone and service was bad the whole way back to base and I should have found a way to let you know I was okay but I just wanted to get home to you and hold you in my arms. I won’t ever go that long without letting you know first, I promise.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re home,” you cut off his rambling with a kiss. “I’m just happy you're here with me again.”

Dear Bradley,

I miss you whenever you leave, but it’s especially hard now that I’m reminded of you anytime I look at the ring on my finger. Penny tried to distract me today but it didn’t work too well…

“Y/N, are you still there?” Penny’s voice pulled you away from the tiny details on your engagement ring.

“Hmm?’ You looked up across the bar at her. “Sorry, I zoned out a bit there.”

“I could tell,” Penny replied. It was a quiet night at the Hard Deck so you stopped by to keep Penny company. It helped that she was typically able to distract you and you frequented the bar more when he was gone. “Have you two talked about what you want to do?”

“Not much yet.” You twisted the ring around on your finger. “I want it to be outside, I think. I’m going to start looking for my dress once Natasha is back stateside. But, we don’t have many details yet. I want Bradley to be here to help.”

“He’ll be happy as long as you're happy.”

“I know, but I want it to be perfect, for the both of us.”

Dear Roos/Dad,

Well, aren’t you lucky? Now you get letters from your two favorite people on the planet. Nick has really been missing you lately so I decided to share this secret with him. He’s so excited to write to you.

“It’s not fair,” Nick muttered, his arms crossed as he refused to look at you. He instead kept his gaze locked on the porch step below him. You sat a couple inches away, wanting to be there for him while also giving him some space to work through how he felt.

“It’s not fair, you’re right.” Nick was getting older and as he did, his understanding of his father’s job grew as well. He was no longer content with the short answers about how dad was protecting others in his plane and would be home before he knew it.

Today, he had returned from school with a scowl on his face. You didn’t have to wait long for him to share the reason behind his anger. One of his friends at school had brought up how a relative of theirs had died while deployed and had gone into too much detail for a second grader. Nick was not happy to learn how much danger his father was really in when he was away. He yelled, and screamed and demanded that his daddy come home. He stomped away to the backyard when you answered that it wasn’t that simple.

He was angry, he was scared and it broke your heart.

“I don’t want him to go away anymore,” Nick mumbled a few moments later. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Come here honey,” You opened your arms and Nick fell right into them, a few tears escaping. “I know it’s scary, I still get scared every time dad goes away. I promise you, he will always try to come home to us. He loves you so much.”

“But what if something bad happens?”

“I’m not going to lie honey, there is a chance something bad could happen. Your dad is doing everything he can to be safe. Plus, he has your Uncle Jake and Aunt Natasha and Uncle Bob and so many other people looking out for him. They’ll help keep him safe.” You ran your hand through his hair as you tried to comfort your son.

“I miss him.” You tightened your arms around your boy.

“I do too.” You gave your son a few moments to get his tears out before sharing your next idea. “Can we make a deal?”

After a few seconds, you felt your son nod.

“When your dad comes home, you can ask him any questions you want about his job, okay? Maybe we can even go see some of the planes again. Will that help you feel better?”

“Can Grandpa Pete come see the planes with us too?”

“I’m sure he would love to,” You smiled as your son looked up at you, his tears almost gone. “Do you want to know what I like to do when I miss your dad?”

“What?”

“It’s a secret, one that not even dad knows.” Nick’s face lit up at the thought of knowing a secret not even his own father knew. “Can you handle that?”

“Yes, I can! I promise!”

“When your dad is away, I like to write him notes. I write down different stories and things I want to tell him and it makes me feel better.”

“Can I write dad a note?” Nick asked.

“Of course you can, why don’t we go write some together?” You held out your hand and led Nick back inside.

“Can I draw him a picture too?”

“I’m sure he would love that.”

While you always intended to share the notes with Bradley once he returned, it slipped your mind once he was home again. You’d get distracted and over time, you found you liked keeping the letters for yourself (and Nick). It was a way for you to keep him close to you while he was away. It was your little secret.

It wasn’t until one spring day that your secret came out. The two of you were deep cleaning the house while Nick played with the newest model plane Maverick had gifted him. You hadn’t even thought of your box of notes until Bradley pulled it out from its hiding spot.

“What’s this?” Bradley asked, setting the box on the bed. You turned from your spot in the closet to see him opening the box.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s kind of silly, honestly.” You blushed a bit as he pulled out one of the many notes in the box.

“Are these notes written to me?” Bradley asked as you made your way over to him.

“Yeah, they are. I started writing them when I missed you while you were away and it helped so I just kept writing them.” You sat next to him on the bed, leaning against him as he brushed his hand through the hundreds of notes in the box. “Nick’s written a couple too.”

“He has?” Bradley’s face lit up at that. “Can I read them? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, if you want to. I mean, I originally planned on giving them to you, but you always distracted me with other activities once you got home. I know it’s silly, but it always helped when I missed you.”

“It’s not silly,” Bradley turned towards you, taking your hand in his. “I talk to you when I’m away, well, to your picture I guess.”

“You do?” Your mouth fell open a little bit at his confession. You knew he missed you while he was gone. He talked to you as much as he was allowed and kept at least two pictures of you and Nick in his flight suit pocket. You don’t know why, but you hadn’t expected him to confess to having a routine like your note writing.

“Yeah, sometimes when I miss you and I can’t sleep, I look at a picture of you and just tell you about my day. It helps me too.” He rubbed his thumb up and down your hand as he shared and you couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m glad we’re both extremely obsessed with each other.” You smiled as Bradley turned back towards the box.

“How many are in here?” Bradley laughed, pulling another note that you had written back when you were only dating.

“I don’t know, a lot.” You laughed with him, not even hearing your son’s footsteps until his gasp was heard from the doorway.

“Mom, you told dad our secret!”

“I didn’t tell him, honey, he found the box.” Nick ran over to the bed, gently placing his new toy down when Bradley picked him up.

“I can’t believe you kept a secret from me, little man!” Nick laughed as Bradley swung him around in his arms before placing him in his lap. “Can I see some of the drawings you put in here? Will you show me?”

“Yeah!”

While you were happy you could always write him a note or letter when he was gone, nothing was better than the memories you made together when he was home safe and sound.

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