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star-girl69 · 5 months

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New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

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sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

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Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

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#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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chatsukimi · 2 months

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eternal: ten cursed fingers, born from the flame

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: sukuna x fem!reader, fluff, some angst, heianera!sukuna. pt 2.

When Sukuna enters the workshop, he is fifteen and mortal, and you are tending flames by the furnace.

Afternoon sun casts through the straw ceiling. You blink twice as you stare at the doorway. Heaving against it, a boy. Sunspots dance in your eyes.

'Please. Please, I'm dying. Help me!' he begs, and his wrists come up to strangle either side of your face, blood filling your tunic in buckets.

Brutal.

He is a curse user, you sense, his energy pouring out like his soul. You could feel it, flooding the plain room, his impending death.

You are young and what the elders say about helping strangers don't faze you. 'Put your hands in the fire.'

'No!'

His eyes are rolling back. He doesn't have much time left.

You grab his arm, dragging his doll-limp figure to the fire. You shove it into the coal.

Observing the healing, your grandfathers' words echo vaguely at the back of your head. They would come asking for it over and over again. They would chase you like immortality. But maybe, you think, maybe he would save dozens with those hands.

What preoccupies you more, though, squatting beside the boy, is the wonder alit in this stranger's face as his hands glisten back to life by the flames until what touches her is not slime and blood, but tender flesh. Bare fingers.

When he leaves, he does not tell you his name, nor ask for his whereabouts, nor thank you. He does not smile, and he gives no compensation. With the rags on his body, though, you do not think he has enough.

He does not do a lot of things, but the last thing you remember of your first meeting with this boy is that he did not say goodbye.

...

He, indeed, returns. He wears a stone carved lion mask.

'I do not think it's fair that I give you weapons for free,' you say, holding up a sceptre for the -now- man.

He chuckles. Sukuna shows you his innate technique: slash. Examining his technique for hours on end, you welded weapons with similar precision.

Through the years, he arrives later and later at the footsteps of your house during the night. He stops calling out for you from the door. Instead, appears frankly at the furnace where you sleep.

'Fuga,' he whispers, like an inside joke, against your ear- open. At first, you startled awake and nearly bashed him in the face. But you know now that despite his stoicism he is smiling under the mask, appearing on the opposite side of the room in an instant.

A little part of you rejoices at knowing this was an important man you have saved, though your fingers never touched.

You can tell from how he stands with solidifying confidence, toys with the necklace around your neck with the symbol of the Sun, Moon and Stars Squadron without ever grazing your skin, and the cursed energy blistering the summer air now greater than any sorcerer you'd met, he was great. All of the Fujiwara Clan combined does not compare.

Electricity trills under your pulse.

Ten years, he comes and goes.

You do not ask for his name. He does not ask for yours. Sometimes you catch him glancing at you in the corner of your eye, as you're tending the flames.

Years pass.

You forget his face.

You wonder, in his aftermath, if he will forget yours. One day he will get tired of the same old swords in the same old countryside home, you're sure of it. But he drives on back each time like an old man seeking immortality.

When he leaves, you stare at the designs of weapons you gave him. What great things would he achieve with those at his side? Your grandfather never tells you about any jujutsu affairs. Leave the girl to sword-making is his motto.

...

A rumour passes from ear to ear from the Southern Clans to the North. A sorcerer is tearing up villages in a one-person massacre to consume their flesh.

Every villager now inks black prayers on their carriages. Prayers to the living god.

You think, it doesn't hurt.

You, too, stick up rice paper on your windows to shield against the monster you know does not care, roaming through the woods in carnage.

...

The next time he comes, the man is wearing a demon mask.

Half his body, gone.

You push him to a chair. You kneel between his legs. Your hand hovers over his abdomen, where the flimsy stitches had failed to ease the bowels from overflowing. You frown. A flame blossoms from your palm, piecing his body back together. He clenches his teeth and watches you.

Cursed Flame: burns anything back to its prior state.

'What Special Grade curse could do something like this?'

He does not answer.

His sheer height has you sinking into your ankles in respect.

As you back away from the fire, you stumble into his chest. Your feet catch in the mat. In the times before, he had never attempted to touch you. Now his hand is tilting your head up, holding your chin, to look at his face, whom you had never seen before in full view.

You flinch.

Your exhale escapes as a gasp.

‘Are you scared?’

Now you realise what is so frightening about the demon who brutalises whole villages, consumes their flesh- living god. So, this is what thousands died seeing. You swallow, because he is beautiful, this four-eyed demon.

Before you utter a word, he leaves the room.

You whip your head around to inspect the windows. Nothing but wind howls against the house. No shadows but your own etches onto the tatami mat by the fire.

Rippling from all four directions, a voice booms: ‘bow.’

Your knees hit the ground. When he enters the room again, he stops before you. You dare not look at his feet.

The Fujiwara Clan teach their daughters well.

‘Stand.’

Is this a trick? With your head still bowed, you press onto one knee. ‘I do not feel enough to equal your presence, Ryomen Sukuna.’

He laughs.

Oh, how he laughs. So his name truly has spread like wildfire through the Clans, big and small. But something nicks at him, that he cannot see your eyes flickering with your flame, or your mouth working the irregular candy you chew, sometimes, on the job, when you feel comfortable around him. In those moments, he would get the urge to reach out and touch your shoulder, just for your reaction. Would you drop the sword to wrap those flaming hands around him so that he could feel some warmth?

'No. I tell you to rise so you rise.' You stand up. 'What's my name?'

'Ryomen Sukuna.'

'No.' He cups your face with his palm as he'd often dreamt of, when he was a teenager. As he'd often planned, when he grew older into the adult he is now. 'For you, I am Ryo.'

...

Ryo.

He likes it when you look at his face. He tells you sometimes, 'this is what you saved.' The four eyes blinking back at you.

He likes the smell of ash by your neck and often pushes his nose against your skin. An animal, you think to yourself, smiling.

Ryo, he takes what he wants, as the powerful do, so when the day comes, he says, 'come with me.' Out of nowhere.

He leads you out, facing the fields of darling grass and daffodils.

He hasn’t thought this through but he doesn't need to. He opens his mouth, ready to ask the question.

‘I can’t…’ He turns around to watch you speak. ‘... can’t bear child.’

For once, although you have denied his request, his face remains void of anger. Void of anything at all.

At twenty five years old, that’s all Sukuna knows what to want. If he cannot have the girl, then steal something else- after all, what are you worth?

‘Then give me something else.’

‘Have my flame.’ His eyes widen. You press on, ‘but you will protect me, in case my family decides to kill me. The flame is a sacred technique passed down from the family. But when I die, it will be yours.’

Without her cursed technique, she would be ostracised.

Everyone comes to the negotiation table with some line they would not cross. And Sukuna swore to never become a protector.

His mouth pronounces, ‘no.’

'Then what do you want, Ryo?'

He stares at you. He's never denied himself any pleasure in his life, but the way his heart skips a beat- it's what's made his enemies weak to be culled, what brings down great empires (love).

Surely, you would be his downfall.

He could not have you.

'Never mind. I want your Technique.'

He would live 1000 years wondering why those flames in his palms would perform in silence. He’d move them with grace to murder. He’d stare at the sparkling embers in a lake, waiting for it to shift and shape into some form without his control. He would realise, ages and eons in, that he had forgot to specify the fusion of their souls.

‘Deal.’

You were always an abnormally weak sorcerer in body. Never trained to exorcise a curse. Perhaps that’s another reason he suggested it, his one mistake. You were his to protect -no matter how he’d protest- but never were you with him again.

...

The next day, Sukuna wipes out the Fujiwara Clan in its entirety. Destroys them so badly no one recognises the corpses.

Mangled. Twisted. Broken.

He destroys the only thing that would've destroyed you.

It is that night at the beach, rain and seawater tangling your hair, you swear to kill him, the boy you saved so many years ago, even if you would be his for eternity.

Your hands tremble. You almost set fire to the sea.

...

'Ryo.' You're brushing his hair as he tips his head back to look at you, unfazed. 'Why do you do what you do?'

He hums, tangling his fingers through yours. 'Why does it matter my purpose?'

'I was just wondering.' You rub at his hands gently, the living things you saved.

Apparently disliking the silence, Sukuna speaks again. 'I do whatever I want, however I want. I have no purpose.'

When you kill him, he almost grins, as though proud. Had he always acted like this? The strange and feral monster.

'Are you ready to die now?' you ask. Some part of you still recalls the child wailing at the prospect of death.

Sukuna cackles, but before he even flinches as the sword digs through his skin and bones, he props his head before yours, kissing your lips as though playing a trick on you.

His scarlet eyes forever haunt your memory, reflecting the silver of your sword and the red of your flames.

'I'm always ready for you... ... and anyways death is not eternal.'

When the flames extinguish, you realise you had left none of him behind, but the hands. Ten cursed fingers, born and killed from the flame.

pt 2.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #one shot #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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bradshawssugarbaby · 4 months

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Beer Never Broke My Heart - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: another country music inspired TGM oneshot because why not. Beer Never Broke My Heart by Luke Combs is a fave and it's been stuck in my head all day so, here we go.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

warnings/content: fluff, a little angst if you squint I guess? Bob and Bradley playing cupid. Jake's a commitment-phobe.

word count: 2.8k

The stories about Jake Seresin’s Fourth of July parties were the thing of legends. At least, that’s what your childhood best friend, Bob Floyd told you. Growing up together in the quaint corners of Kentucky, your friendship persisted even after Bob enlisted in the Navy, bridging the geographical gaps that separated you. Upon encountering Jake, Bob wasted no time in regaling you with tales of the charismatic, albeit arrogant and cocky, pilot he had befriended—someone he cheekily deemed "perfectly your type." With a mischievous grin, Bob couldn't resist teasing you about your penchant for less-than-stellar romantic choices. However, as Bob grew closer to Jake, his jests evolved into genuine affection, a burgeoning belief that perhaps you and Jake were destined for each other. Your recent trip to San Diego had you attending Bradley Bradshaw's birthday bash at Bob's insistence, albeit with the conspicuous absence of Jake. Despite assurances from Jake himself that he wouldn't miss it, he was reportedly detained by a rigorous training exercise on base, but Bob hadn’t been buying it.

"Has Jake ever mentioned having a significant other, like, ever?" Bob quizzically posed one evening at the Hard Deck, the favored haunt for Navy personnel and their circles.

Bob's squadron pondered, their heads shaking in unison while exchanging contemplative glances. A few scanned the ceiling, delving into their memory banks to recall any fleeting encounters where Jake might have been accompanied by a woman for more than just a passing night.

"Bradley, Javy, you guys practically grew up with him. Have either of you ever seen him with a girl for longer than a one-night fling?" Bob chuckled, arching an inquisitive brow.

Bradley and Javy exchanged a silent glance, both shaking their heads softly. Bradley took a sip of his beer, placing the bottle down with a soft laugh, as if a distant recollection had suddenly surfaced.

"I take that back, I do remember this one girl. What was her name... Heather, Jessica, something like that. This was way back when I first met him, over a decade ago. Jake would've been, what, 21 tops? He was ready to tie the knot with her—or so we all thought. Then she decided she couldn't handle dating someone always on the go, and it broke poor Jake's heart. After that, he seemed to reckon he had something to prove, which might explain why he can be such an insufferable dick most of the time now."

Bob raised a knowing eyebrow, nodding thoughtfully. A smirk crept onto his face as he glanced around at his companions, then back at you.

"Jake's got cold feet when it comes to commitment. That's why he skipped out!”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Bobby?” Bradley grinned, shaking his head as he sipped his beer again.

“Look, I think we need to just bring you to his annual Fourth of July party. He’ll love you when he meets you. He’s just scared of the idea,” Bob nodded as he turned to you, grinning.

“Guys, if Jake doesn’t want to meet me, it’s ok. I’m not offended. If he’s a commitment-phobe, I’m probably good just…not meeting the guy,” You shrugged as you sipped your cocktail, laughing softly. “Besides, Bobby, you’re the one who said he was perfectly my type because he’s an asshole. I mean, maybe I should change my type.”

“Nah, Jake’s not a bad guy,” Bradley shook his head quickly, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips. “He’s just not a smart guy, at least not when it comes to social settings. Trust me, he’ll be fine. We just won’t tell him you’re coming.”

A few nights later, you and Bob rolled up to Jake's party, the warm summer air buzzing with excitement. You sported a laid-back ensemble: denim shorts hugging your curves and a tie-dyed halter top in patriotic hues of red, blue, and white, exuding a festive vibe. Your sunglasses rested atop your head, adding a touch of effortless coolness to your look.

As you stepped into the backyard, the scene unfolded before you: Bradley and Jake engaged in their customary banter, beers in hand, the ambiance alive with their friendly squabble.

"I'm telling you, the Astros are taking it all this year," Jake asserted confidently.

Bradley scoffed, retorting, "And I'm telling you, they'll crash and burn like they always do, Bagman."

Bob chimed in with a chuckle, playfully interrupting their debate. Adjusting his glasses with a grin, he shot Bradley a teasing glance.

"Are we interrupting something here?" Bob quipped, his tone lighthearted as he ushered you forward.

Bradley's smile widened as he greeted you warmly, introducing you to Jake, who turned to you with a suave grin, his eyes sparkling with charm.

As you laid eyes on Jake for the first time, a rush of sensations flooded through you. Standing tall with a commanding presence, his tanned skin glowed under the party lights, accentuating the golden hue of his tousled blonde hair. His bright sea-green eyes, vibrant and captivating, seemed to hold the entire universe within them, drawing you in with their magnetic gaze.

A charming grin played upon his lips, exuding confidence and warmth, while his strong southern accent, dripping with Texan pride, resonated through the air like a familiar melody. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his rugged yet effortlessly handsome features, feeling a flutter of anticipation mingled with a hint of nervous excitement. In that moment, it was as if time stood still, and all you could do was offer a tentative smile in return, your emotions swirling in a whirlwind of curiosity and intrigue at the enigmatic man before you.

As you stood before him, captivated by his presence, Jake extended a hand with a confident smile.

"Well, hi there," he drawled in his rich southern accent, his voice smooth as honey.

"Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin, US Naval Air Force." he said, his bright green eyes twinkling with charm, emphasizing his title as he shot Bradley a competitive smirk. You knew Bradley was a Lieutenant, and you knew from what Bob had told you that the Jake and Bradley bickered over Jake’s newly-appointed higher rank.

"Pleasure to meet you," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of admiration for the accomplished officer standing before you.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Jake's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of confidence and charm. "Likewise," he responded warmly, his grip on your hand lingering just a fraction longer than necessary, sending a jolt of excitement coursing through you.

His handshake was firm yet gentle, sending a tingle of electricity through your fingertips as you exchanged introductions. In that moment, his genuine warmth and charisma enveloped you, leaving you eager to uncover more about the man behind the captivating facade.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself drawn further into Jake's magnetic presence, each moment spent in his company deepening your intrigue and desire to unravel the layers of the enigmatic man before you. Jake excused himself politely after a few minutes of lively conversation, and you watched on with a dreamy-eyed expression on your face as he slipped away into the party to converse with someone else. Out the corner of your eye, you noticed Bob and Bradley exchange knowing grins as they observed what was unfolding.

The night carried on, and you headed into the house to find your way to the bathroom. Closing the sliding patio door behind you, your eyes scanned over the house, taking in the crisp, white walls adorned with different pieces of country-themed decor, as if Jake was trying to bring as much of Texas into his Californian home as he could. A simple cactus sat on the coffee table, a Stetson hanging on the wall, next to a vintage rodeo poster, framed and on display. The decor was somewhere between vintage Americana and a country bar, but it seemed so perfectly Jake. At least, from everything you’d been told about him, and from your five minute exchange with him earlier.

As you headed down the hallway to find the bathroom, passing by the entryway to the kitchen, you could hear muffled voices, deep in discussion. You paused for a moment as you recognized both voices. One was unmistakeably Bradley, his Virginian lilt echoing slightly out of the kitchen. The other, an equally deep and recognizable southern drawl, one you’d only just heard a short while ago, but equally ingrained in your mind.

“Listen, Bradley, I’m sure she’s a great girl. Bob wouldn’t have brought her if she wasn’t. I’m just not interested,” Jake protested, and you felt your heart sink slightly as you heard the words that weren’t intended for you.

“Jake, it was 11 years ago, man. Don’t you ever think about what it’d be like to meet someone? Settle down? Have a kid?”

“No,” Jake replied stubbornly.

“Now you’re just being a jackass,” Bradley sighed, and you could just envision the disapproving glance and head shake that Jake was on the receiving end of right now, “You can’t just keep having drunk one night stands, dude. You’re gonna wake up one day and realize you basically pissed your whole life away. The Navy’s not gonna be there forever. One day you’re gonna have to retire.”

“And I’ll retire happily. On a ranch somewhere in Texas.”

“Alone.”

“I’ll buy a dog if you’re that fucking concerned about me being lonely, Bradshaw,” Jake spat back angrily.

“What if she’s not like what’s-her-face?”

“Chelsea. And it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. You’re pissing away a chance with a really nice girl because of what, your pride? Your ego? You’re afraid to get hurt? You’re gonna end up drunk and alone.”

“Beer never broke my heart. Women have.”

“Oh come off it, Bagman. You were 21. You’re how old now?”

“Thirty five.”

“Exactly. Almost fifteen years ago. Give yourself a chance to be happy.”

As you listened in on Jake and Bradley's conversation, hidden from view in the hallway, a sudden tickle in your nose sent an urgent signal. You pressed a finger beneath your nostrils, desperately attempting to stifle the impending sneeze. However, despite your valiant efforts, a soft, involuntary sound escaped into the air, betraying your presence to the two men engrossed in discussion.

The gentle echo of your sneeze disrupted the flow of their conversation, prompting both Jake and Bradley to turn their heads in unison, their brows furrowing in mild surprise. Caught off guard by your sudden interruption, they exchanged a quick glance before Jake's gaze settled on the source of the noise.

You stood frozen in the hallway, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you met Jake's curious stare. In that fleeting moment, you felt like an intruder, an eavesdropper stumbling upon a conversation meant to remain private. Yet, despite the awkwardness of the situation, a part of you couldn't help but wonder if this unexpected encounter might offer insight into Jake's guarded heart and the walls he had built to protect himself from the ghosts of past heartbreaks.

“Sorry, I uh, I was just looking for the bathroom,” you blushed, nodding your head quickly as you smoothed a hand over your hair.

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Jake nodded once, remaining awkwardly guarded as he spoke.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bradley held his hand out, shaking his head, “I promised Bob I’d sort this out and I’m damn well gonna do it.”

As Bradley stepped forward, determination etched into his features, you couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. His insistence on addressing the situation piqued your interest, but you also couldn't shake the unease of being caught in the middle of a potentially sensitive conversation.

Jake glanced at Bradley with a hint of skepticism, his guarded demeanor softening slightly as he awaited Bradley's next words.

"Look, Jake," Bradley began, his tone earnest yet firm, "I know you've been hesitant about getting involved. But trust me, she's not like anyone you've ever met before."

You blinked in surprise at Bradley's unexpected endorsement, feeling a rush of gratitude toward your friend for advocating on your behalf. Bradley gave you both a knowing look before nodding once again and heading out of the room to give you both time alone. Jake shifted awkwardly on his feet, avoiding your gaze.

Jake's expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes as he absorbed Bradley's words. After a moment of contemplative silence, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I’m sorry,” Jake nodded slowly, looking up at the ceiling before glancing over at you. “Bob and Bradley have been so bent on getting us together. I guess I’m just hung up on some shit from fifteen years ago. An ex-girlfriend told me she didn’t want to live the whole military spouse life after I had an accident in training. I never got over it. Had a ring for her and everything. Was gonna have the whole 2.5 kids and a dog and a white picket fence thing going on. Then she decided she couldn’t be a military spouse, and I decided I couldn’t give up what I’d been working on achieving, so I let her leave.”

“You haven’t dated in fifteen years?”

Jake's lips curved into a rueful smile, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation.

“Not really, I mean, I’ve been with girls, but not seriously.”

Your laughter rang out, tinged with discomfort as you shook your head in incredulity. "And here I thought my dating history was a train wreck," you confessed, a nervous chuckle punctuating your words. "Bob likes to rib me about it, but I have a knack for attracting men allergic to commitment, unless it's to Sunday night football and beers with the boys."

Jake's laughter echoed yours, a genuine warmth infusing his expression as he nodded in understanding.

"Now it all makes sense," he remarked, a glint of realization illuminating his features. "Bob kept insisting you were my type, and I couldn't figure out how he knew."

You frowned in confusion. "I'm lost."

"I tend to gravitate toward women who epitomize everything I'm not," Jake explained, a note of introspection coloring his words. "The ones wanting marriage, stability—all the things I shy away from. It's why I've avoided serious relationships. I thrive on being the best, but in that arena, I’m like…a football team short of a quarterback."

“I mean, you could. You just have to want it.”

“Part of me does.”

“But?”

Jake lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head remorsefully as he looks down. He leans his body against the counter, shrugging his shoulders before speaking.

“But, I’m 35. I guess I could retire from service if the right girl came along. I just…it’s all I know. I know I’m a good pilot, ya know? I don’t know how I am at this boyfriend shit. “

His eyes met yours, earnest and vulnerable, as he confessed, "I mean, sure, I wanna be the kind of man who can sweep a woman off her feet, who knows how to cherish her and make her feel like she's the center of the universe. But truth be told, I ain't got a clue how to do that. I'm afraid I'll crash and burn before I even get off the ground.”

Jake frowned at the can of beer in his hand, shaking his head with a hearty chuckle.

“I’ve had too many of these, I don’t normally share my life story. Not with pretty girls at least.”

“Well,” you responded, pulling up a bar stool beside him before resting your elbows on the counter, holding your head in your hands as you looked at him, “I’m listening.”

"You know," he mused with a wry chuckle, "I never thought I'd feel betrayed by a cold beer, but here I am, questioning my trust in beer of all things." He shook his head, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. "Seems I've stumbled into uncharted territory here, darlin’.”

As Jake's laughter subsided, a lull settled over the conversation, punctuated only by the distant hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses in the background. You sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a moment bursting with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

"Maybe it's time to navigate these unfamiliar waters together," you suggested softly, breaking the silence with a tentative smile.

"We can figure it out as we go, right?"

Jake's gaze softened, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes as he met your gaze. "I'd like that," he admitted, his voice tinged with sincerity.

"It might be a bumpy ride, but, I reckon this time I might stand a chance of finding my bearings."

And in that moment, as the weight of his words hung in the air between you, you felt a spark of hope ignite within your heart—a flicker of possibility for something beautiful to bloom amidst the uncertainties of the journey ahead.

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine

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himbocoups · 1 year

Text

˗ˋˏ Epistolary Yearning ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

pairing: duke!lsm x reader (gn afab)

genre: epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut

tags: arranged marriage, mentions of a war, dk and yn accidentally invent the concept of planes, two people very much falling in love | degrading, fingering, guided play, honey play, marking, mirror play, pet names, praise, pussy slapping, riding, spitting, squirting…

wc: 5.13k

message from nu: fueled by my love for historical, fantasy, and isekai manhuas. big thank you to my beta readers (@heartkyeom, @aceofvernons, and @multi-kpop-fanfics) for reading when I was playing with the format of this fic + @junkissed with helping out with the syntax for this one very confusing line I wrote. also summoning @onlyseokmins bc I told her I'd tag her once duke!dk was finished <3

himbocoups's masterlist

Letter One - YN

My Lord,

How are you? I hope your trip is going as smoothly as planned.

It has been a while since I last heard from you. As Summer comes to a fading end, Autumn threatens to wash the foliage to hues of brown and auburn. And I sit at the library nook beside the window, taking quill to parchment against the cover of a heavily bound book and scratching against blank pages before I can muster the courage to write to you. I do sincerely apologize if this attempt seems strange.

Though I pity our brief time together, the only things I familiarized myself with are your scintillant eyes. Maybe instead of feeling as dull as the color of nature, I’ll think about how the color is reminiscent of your eyes. Eyes, these beautiful jewels seem to reflect the light through your smile. I can’t help but imagine myself as the last person to see them every night as I lay beside you as we drift off into slumber. Would it be too forward of me to say that the thought of growing fond of you, not just your eyes, is slowly appealing more and more to me?

However, I do have hesitations as I am left alone to roam these lonely halls in a place so unfamiliar to me. It would be a pity shall I reach familiarity with my surroundings before I become familiar with you. Or even worse, to have you forget your familiarity with me.

Please be safe for me. Hurry home soon.

Letter Two - DK

My Jewel,

For someone who longs for familiarity, you need not create even more distance between us through formalities. And my love, you need not refer to me as your Lord. Love is all I ask for, as love is what you will always be to me. Albeit, I do find it disheartening to read that you think of me so lowly. I could never forget someone as precious as you, even if you do not believe in your preciousness.

Nevertheless, I, too, pity the brevity of our time together. Marriage agreed upon through an exchanging of letters by our guardians, now our marriage follows suit in the epistolary form. Yet no descriptive access through penmanship could ever grant the feeling that blossomed inside me and continues to bloom since I first laid my eyes upon you. And on the eve of the third week of our matrimony, I was whisked away to end the war. I do sincerely apologize for my absence.

On this rocking ship, all I can do is stare into the swirling sea in search of a passing merchant ship with letters to deliver. The birds that soar above me seem to provoke me with their independence, cawing in hearty guffaw at the fact that this poor man can never take flight at any moment back into his lover’s arms - where he feels most at home.

Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant. How wondrous that would be.

But I am an equally lonesome Commander among his squadron, a man who keeps the first letter from his lover in the pocket against his breast and his wedding band around his neck. Just thinking about how you were thinking about me while writing that letter, still thinking about me, conciliates any disarray in my mind. And I promise you that I will make you feel loved for the rest of your life, even if our love is only budding.

I will lead my men well. Then I will lead myself home. To you.

Letter Three - YN

My Dokyeom (If it is fine to refer to you in this way),

I do have to admit to my shyness, how my face flushed with heat when you referred to me as your beloved. Your “love”…my goodness, our servants nearly called the doctor over when they saw my state of awe. Although, I do apologize if the language in my initial letter seemed blunt or made you feel even a hint of sadness that I accidentally made you for a man with a cold demeanor.

You wrote: “Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant” in our last exchange. What a preposterous idea! But what a new discovery to find that you are as funny as you are charming. Shall we commission a local alchemist to create potions that magnify tiny sparrows to large ships? Or shall I ditch my archery lessons in exchange for nights in your magnificent library, scouring the archives with the hope to find a recipe to an enlarging potion hidden in a romance novel?

Oh, how I wish everything could be as easy as depicted in romance novels or that one Opera we went to watch. Days consume me on end. Not in the way in which I consume much of my leisure time by staying in the places we frequented in our time together, but in the way in which time passes by so slowly it feels like the concept of time is consuming me instead. I wish it were you who were consuming me even though I do feel it through your love. Because I, too, keep your letter near me. And I trace over the areas your quill indented the parchment, so much that I sometimes end up smudging the dried ink with my hand.

I do miss you...even more when everything around me reminds me of you. Because you, who makes silly promises about a budding romance, will also be the receiver of my elementary promise about my slowly collecting love for you.

P.S. They are close to finishing our portraits. I have yet to decide where they are to be hung.

Letter Four - DK

My Love,

My Seokmin. Seok. Min. Mine. Beloved. Love. Dearest. Husband. Equal. Anything but Duke, Lord, Commander, or Dokyeom is welcome. How I wish for the day I get to hear my name leave your lips through a soft murmur, laughter, greeting, whisper, and mayhaps even a whine.

Honeymoon was cut short by my trip across the sea. We are finally on land. In front of me is a crackling campfire whose glow conceals the redness of my cheeks, dappled with jubilance from reading your last letter.

My dearest shy and humble lover whose metaphoric propositions of love are anything but reticent, I have annotated my favorite portions and circled words that I replay in my mind as a source of comfort. However, like what you did with your quotation of my imaginary bird ship, I must reference a few nuances in your letter that I find interesting. Particularly, I find that you must be careful in formatting your syntax, my beloved — for your way of language is enough to drive a sane man mad. Just think of me: a sane man before I had you and now a man slowly falling madly in love with you.

Referring back to how time achingly consumes you, your “I wish it were you who were consuming me. Although I do feel it through your love” causes me to quiver in a way that is only shared between two lovers. I am a man whose honeymoon was interrupted by the king’s call, a man who is weeks without his lover, a man who has needs - desires. And your need for me to consume you? I can only pluck it out of context.

If everything around you reminds you of me, then I must tell you that I hope your reminder does not make you suffer as how I suffer. My love, do you know how painful it was to lay in my bed while the ship continually rocked back and forth? It was reminiscent of our second week together when you decided to mount me in bed, your beautiful opalescent undergarment covering an action so lewd that it could never be named in public. Yet I was a man on a ship with his aching cock in his hand, imagining his newly beloved on top of him who squeezes him tightly as they ride his lap.

No hand could ever replace the fervor of having you rock me, leaning forward to kiss me down my naked chest while sucking and licking the thin area of skin right above my collarbone. How warmly your walls enveloped my own, squeezing and contrasting with every glide you make. I couldn’t help but twitch in you, trying to hold in my selfishness by grabbing onto your thighs - kneading and feeling the skin fill the areas between my fingers. But you bounced on my lap like a bunny in heat, causing my hands to trail further upwards until they lay on your ass…I wanted to worship you by turning myself into a throne, a marble stand so others could be in awe of you for centuries to come.

Mouth unable to talk, your kitten drooled onto my lap and coated the surface with liquid lust while you whimpered as I praised you for treating me so well. I scooped the syrup from the maple tap and brought it to my mouth to suck; even now I can still feel your sweet syrup rest on my tongue and swirl in my mouth. Yet there I was on that boat, losing my mind with my hand on my tap. Bed sheets soaked with my sweat, I could only imagine that it was your sweat-glistened skin that stuck against mine. It was but a shame, and still is but a shame, that the image of you collapsed against my chest with exhaustion when your thighs trembled with such a quake only exists as a memory. How long would it take for me to turn the memory of me looping my arms around your back and pushing your upper body against mine, feeling you build and crash through a scream, into our reality?

The land is no better than the sea. Truly, it must be treason to think such impure thoughts while riding on my finest stallion to head to our base. I am a Commander, a Duke for God’s sake. But the bouncing, the clopping - oh, beloved, my skin pricked with heat so much that I thought bandits were ambushing us. The pain I felt while I waited for my swelling to go down - I am utterly embarrassed to admit I almost released while riding in front of my men.

How I wish I could come running back home to you. Shall I single-handedly overturn the monarchy so we can be equal partners to the throne? So that we can be rulers who need not leave our estate? Just give me the word, and the empire will be yours. Then I would never need to leave your side. That I guarantee.

P.S. Hang the portrait wherever you please. Perhaps the ballroom so I would always be with you during the night of the balls.

Letter Five - YN

My King,

How mad of you to write such vulgarities, to suggest usurping the throne only if it means being able to stay with me. You are a Commander. You are a Duke. You are one of the King’s men. Do you not fear the inevitable consequences that you would face should your letter be opened by anybody other than myself? Do you not fear what would happen to you if your lust-driven joke was wrongly taken for treason? I must say that despite everything, I found myself dipping a finger into your words and listening to my juices sing your letter like lyrics.

Your words comforted my ache at my core, skillfully fighting fire with fire to extinguish my burning forest. However, if you were to turn into a mere object – a chair, a throne, a stand – I would never be satisfied in your worship. ‘Tis true that I would like to be worshiped by you like the first time your palm cupped my face in private confinement under the shade of the gazebo in the garden. With nobody around us, your face softened to reveal the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. Earnest eyes flittered to and fro as you studied me in awe and whispered words of praise. Up until then, I never even knew you could worship a person such as me. Yet, you, a mere stranger I met a few hours ago, placed a kiss upon my lips as soft as the petals on the flowers that surrounded us.

If worshipping me means an inanimate you, I don’t think there would be anybody who could worship me with such sincerity and reason as you do…and I quite like the animate you even if the animate you screamed at the bug upon your sleeve. I couldn’t stop laughing then. And when you looked back at me with those bashful eyes, I knew this would be a marriage filled with laughter.

Laughter, as I have recently learned, doesn’t only exist jovially. No. Reading your comment about my syntax, I almost erupted in a peal of sinister laughter. My poor lover with his cock in his hand and his quill in his other and his attempt to warn someone with such an extensive educational background about their syntax…you are too pure for this world. Should it make you feel better in any way, I have also thought about you in ways such a person in my stature should never.

The other day when I was particularly distracted by the particular “unease” that had been building inside me, I accidentally launched a practice arrow into the wind. Chasing it, I happened upon our agriculture stables where the young workers sit and milk our cows. I swear, I must have been in such a delusional state to feel such a rush just from watching the motion of our cows getting milked that I ran off to the kitchens without picking up my stray arrow.

Can you believe it, my dear? Have you been thinking of me differently since I admitted to almost leaking when I saw the cows getting milked? Would you think of me even differently if I told you I thought of you while talking to our ice sculptors? If you can quench my thirst on my loneliest days, I can only imagine what taking you in paired with ice would feel like for both you and me.

Mayhaps, we should convene in the kitchen at night after the bell strikes twelve when all of our kitchen staff have retired. I want to kiss you with cherry-stained lips, watching tint transfer onto yours as I play with the seed of the fruit in my mouth while I wait for our cups of tea to steep. Kissing, I hope, would act as an analgesic for your painfully sleepless nights. Still, I find it abstruse that a kind, gentle, and good man like you would live such a cathartic life as a commander. Enerverated in every way as I am, I can only offer a somnolent kiss in hopes of luring you to sleep before your tea can fully steep.

“What is a man without his honey,” you would say. Then I would ask you to specify what type of honey you are referring to.

You would reply with this cheekiness in your voice while your lips pull into a wide smile, “the syrup.” If I’m not wrong, you would peck the top of my head while you reach over me to grab the jar that the cook keeps at the counter for you to easily access. Because the man with a honeyed siren voice that often procures lullabies for me to fall asleep also has a taste for the pollinators’ syrup.

As you can tell…we are not simple people. We are not a regular couple. We have exchanged letters for longer than we have physically been together. So when I tell you to close your eyes to try to find your honey, would you? If I blindfolded you with a kitchen towel and told you to search for the dab of honey I swatched on my body, could you do it? Would you go to the lengths just to search for the honey to your tea?

Would you use your nose and sniff along my skin, searching for the floral and fruity aroma? Gently picking up my arm and bringing it to your nose, would you gently guide your nose along the surface of my skin in a position so intimate that you feel my arm hairs tickle the tip of your nose? Would you guide your nose upwards along my arm until you arrive at my collarbone, sniffing and docilely licking areas you think to be as sweet as honey?

Imploring you in your reconnoiter, I must keep quiet as I watch you blindly explore every groove of the topography of my body. I imagine myself tilting my head towards the side to allow you access to the side of my neck, sharply breathing in as you nose the area in which I am the most sensitive. I see you hesitate for a second before planting your supple lips against the skin as if to sample before making a decision. To your surprise, what coats your lips in a sticky and sweet amber gloss is the honey I placed on my neck slowly trailing towards my collarbone. And I watch you intently as you lick it off your lips, leaving a translucent liquid sheen.

Affected by a magnetic lure, you would somehow find yourself in front of me, your head positioned right above the slowly trailing bead of honey. It starts with a lick, hot tongue against cold skin. I can’t help but feel how the bumpy texture of your tongue cleans and pulls its way up my neck. After the hot saliva hits cold air, you take off the kitchen towel and look at me like a puppy waiting for its owner.

“Such a good boy,” I murmur as I take the towel from your hand and wrap it around the nape of your neck to pull you in closer. “How does it taste?”

What is more, is that I hope that in that moment my heart is not the only one that is beating as fast as how a hummingbird flaps its wings. My greedy husband, you back me against the kitchen island until you are pressed firmly against me as I watch and feel you bite and suck a garden of flowers across my neck and chest. Your large hands find themselves around my thighs, kneading and squeezing them so much that the fabric of my night clothes bunch in the palm of your hands. So I maneuver your hands around my waist, and you spin me around and bend me against that counter so I can feel you push yourself against me.

“Be good for me,” you would command while undressing me.

Then I would feel it, hands spreading my legs and fingers prying my ass apart, and then your warm and flat tongue against my kitten. One single lick would make my knees buckle. But you eating me out from behind, the way you knead my ass while you take your time swirling your tongue against my lips and lapping up my juices would make me come in an instant. Your tongue presses against my nub while your nose digs itself into my opening almost to the point where you’re fucking me with the tip of your nose, yet it is me who begs for air. And you keep my liquid on your tongue as you rise from your knees to pull my head back until I’m looking at you and your swollen and burgundy lips with my head tilted backward.

And you pry my mouth open with your hand and watch me catch that sweet honey on the tip of my tongue.

My dear, I am much too hot to even think about what comes after you let go of my jaw. My tenses in this letter are all mixed up because I’m so caught up in my delusions that I mistake dreams for reality. I feel ashamed to revert to such elementary composition when I am clouded by lust. But in this sensory game of wits, who do you think would win — the explorer or the explored?

P.S. I’ve had our painting temporarily hung in our dining room as I cannot even bring myself to think about the possibility of hosting a ball without you. The great ballroom has been collecting dust since the first month you left for the war. Besides, invitations to the first ball of the season have long been sent out. I attended and made some acquaintances. Are you proud of me? Are you missing me as much as I am missing you?

Letter Six - DK

My Sweet,

Loneliness is when you are trapped by your stillness while everything around you splits into two and crumbles. And you are stuck in the open space of where everything once was, you in your bubble of muteness as the world crashes and breaks in a cacophonous roar. The feeling that engulfed me during these past few months was beyond my description of loneliness. So with a happy heart, I am telling you that the war is over. I’m coming home soon to hold you in my arms, to show you what this world that surrounds you is truly like — delicate and with the warmth of a glowing morning Sun that promises juvenescent Springs until the end of time.

Regarding your question about the potential winner of the sensory game you described in your last letter, whether I am the person exploring or explored, I know I would always be the victor as only a true victor can call you “his.” My sweet love, I hope to stick by your side as long as I prefer honey in my tea and you by my side when I sleep.

However, with a slightly interruptive transition, I have a few requests regarding the contents of your postscript. That is:

One, I am wholly and with every fiber of my mind, soul, and body proud of you. You, my shyest lover who sought friendship in your moments of loneliness, I love you so. Yet I find myself utterly in distress that I cannot co-host our tea parties until later should you hold one in a few days. Our estate is boring, and it must be tiring seeing the same things and people every day for the past few months. I urge you to go out more and explore so I can come home to plentiful stories told in your voice. I want to fall asleep to your descriptions so I can dream of how you see the world around you.

Two, of course, I am missing you. Even if I were a few yards away from you, I would still miss you. I am currently bothering our treasurer in regards to spending the rest of our budget on a winter wonderland in which we would freeze the entire world so I could easily and quickly sled back home like a seal off an iceberg. However, our treasurer is insistent on saving the budget for lodging, travel, and sustenance. I, for one, think I am right.

Three, I think this might be my last letter in a while as when this stack of parchments finally reaches you, I would almost be home. So I am struggling between keeping this short and straight to the point or long and thoroughly eloquent with everything that I want to write and say to you. Instead of coming to a conclusion by myself, I bid you farewell until we meet again with this set of instructions within my set of requests for you. I’m sorry if the format of my letter makes it very hard for you to read. Like how you described your delusions, I often find myself alone at night imagining you by my side so much that I feel your physical presence next to me.

Four, as for our portrait in our dining room, I must ask you to perform a favor for me as I have not seen the finished painting myself. It is a test regarding the “likeness” of our portraits that can only be performed by yourself. When you wish to perform the test before I arrive, please excuse all our staff who stay by your side during dinner and ask to eat alone. Should they give you looks, please say that it was requested by me.

When you are alone, I need you to get into a position in which you can look at yourself through the large mirror that is mounted above the low mantle towards the end of the dining room table. I assume our portrait is hung on the wall at the other side of the dining room table, am I right? If you move the plates and sit on the table, you should be able to look at both your entire body and our portrait through the mirror. Do not worry about making a mess my dear.

Perhaps this test may be a little lewd for a dinner setting. But after your proposed rendezvous in the kitchen in your last letter, I suppose this test would be nothing to you.

Look at yourself in the mirror. Can you imagine me behind you, slowly kissing down your neck as I undress you while the candlelights flicker beside us? Our shadows cast against the walls that surround us tell the story of two lovers slowly conjoining into one. And I sit you against the front of my naked body, bending your legs and positioning them so you can see all of you through the mirror.

My love, can you see your lips unfold into a beautiful bloom, leaking with its sweet nectar for your man to taste? The sweet nectar, the glistening substitute to the honey our staff brought alongside our dinner rolls, rolls off the flower and soaks the tablecloth beneath you. Tonight I am not doing anything except revel in your beauty like a man awestruck by something so exquisite that he cannot do anything but stare.

I want you to imagine that the same me in the portrait is the me you imagine to be behind you, the very me who writes this letter and instructs you on how to pleasure yourself for the night. Suck on your own fingers, my darling. Bring your fingers to your lips, and let me see the way you ready yourself before the pleasure comes. Because what I want is for you to fuck yourself well for me so that after you’ve squirted all over the dining table your pussy continues to throb so much that you confuse it for your beating heart.

Don’t be shy. Bring your soaked fingers to your folds, and trace along the lines of the petals. Look at how they seemingly open and close as your stomach jerks in reaction. Slowly rub yourself up and down, coaxing that beautiful sigh that I know too well out of your mouth. Feel the pads of your finger mix with your juices, slipping easily and making your hand glide smoother.

Are you looking at me through the mirror? Are you begging me to instruct you in other ways to satisfy your lust? Do you want to rub your pearl and flick it with your finger in a way that makes you clench and collapse?

What is it, honey? Are you whining for me to make you feel good? But this is your guided session. Don’t you see yourself through the mirror, so pathetic looking that you would do anything that I tell you to do? Then take that same hand you used to tease yourself and slap your pussy for me. Bring the hand back and bring it down on your pussy quickly and with so much might that the sound of palm against tender skin echoes throughout the empty dining room.

Don’t you feel pathetic? Getting off from you slapping your own pussy? Doesn’t it please you and make feel so dirty at the same time? When you’re striking your palm against your pussy over and over as your other hand unconsciously reaches upwards to knead your sore nipple, are you looking at yourself through the mirror? Are you still imagining me sitting behind you on our dining table, whispering and taunting you as you attempt to come undone? If your head is not completely clouded with lust, when that pussy is throbbing with such pain and pleasure, you will take your finger to your entrance and insert it slowly so you feel your warm and wet insides slowly swallow your finger the further in it goes.

Let your mouth hang open as you plug yourself with another finger. Fill the lonely dining room with your sweet moans for me. Listen to your kitten squelch and leak the more you pump yourself so that a warm and hot feeling grows in your stomach, making you clench your body tighter and tighter. Scissor your fingers, and fill up that empty space where my cock usually rests. When you release, pull out your fingers as you come on the tablecloth and look at the cream I miss the most.

You’re so perfect, you know that? You’d look even more perfect when you’re on your knees with your fingers underneath you and inside of you. Bounce for me my sweet, ride your own fingers as if you’re riding me. Massage yourself with your other hand, grabbing and kneading your breasts and your nipples as I do for you. Can you see yourself through the mirror more clearly when you’re in this position? Do you see how messy and needy you look while you’re pathetically riding your own fingers? Do you wish they were mine? Do you wish they were my thighs?

Open your eyes for me as you reach another wave of ecstasy. Look at me in the eyes, the man painted next to your glowing figure as you reach your last high. I know you can do it. Scream my name if you love me, and squirt as if your pussy was crying for the man you love.

Turn your head around when you’ve caught your breath. Look at our portrait. Do you see how I’m smiling at you?

I’m proud of you, my love. Thank you for holding on for so long. I’ll be home soon.

P.S. I love you.

#svthub #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #dk smut #seokmin smut #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dk imagines #seokmin imagines #✏️ ━ himbocoups

727 notes · View notes

tintinwrites · 6 months

Text

ulterior motives | Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader (1 of 2)

A/N: Wow, long time, no Poe! And a long time without posts. I just haven’t been motivated to write (or finish what I start) and time is moving so quickly, I can’t even keep track of it. My goodness!!!!

Rating: 18+

Warning: Canon typical violence, naughty words, people assuming you were promoted for doing sexual favors and it is heavily discussed.

Word Count: 4,499, apparently!

Summary: Post-war with The First Order, your generals, Poe and Finn, promote you to commander of your squadron. Not everyone is happy about it, especially with how close you and Poe seem to be.

GIF Credit: ^^^^

You couldn’t help but smile as you hopped down from your ship, removing your helmet and tucking it under your arm, watching your fellow pilots leave their own X-wings to greet the people awaiting you all.

There was nothing more satisfying than a successful mission where nobody got hurt.

There were still remnants of the First Order, desperate people with no personality outside of the dictatorship, as well as new groups popping up. The galaxy simply couldn’t exist without someone with bad intentions wanting to rule it.

When one of your generals sent your squadron out to nip one of the groups in the bud, you hadn’t expected to be ambushed by their ships as soon as you broke the atmosphere for the planet their headquarters were on.

But, even taken by surprise, you managed to take each one of them out and suffer nothing but superficial damage to your ship and the others’. One day in maintenance and they’d all be good as new, like they never even left the hangar.

“Captain,” said a familiar voice from behind you and you nearly jumped, turning to find Poe was approaching you with a proud smile.

“General Dameron,” you breathed out, nearly stumbling over the name as you fought away your own shy smile.

He had that effect on everyone and you were certainly no exception. He was handsome already, but he’d grown a beard speckled with white since taking over as co-general and it made him so…distinguished. He let his hair grow out a bit and it was just barely graying at the temples. He was smart and strong and kind and toned and his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he’d smile at you or laugh or—

How could you not feel something? It was a little embarrassing, the way your heart would jump at the sight of him and your breath would catch when you spoke with him, and your palms would sweat just from being near him. But you couldn’t blame yourself or anyone else for that matter.

You tried your best to not reveal your feelings, hiding genuine yearning behind banter and what could possibly be construed as flirting. And sometimes you couldn’t help how you looked at him, especially when there were times where he looked at you in such a way that you thought that…maybe…

But he was one of your generals and you were just someone with a silly crush. Just like everyone else. You weren’t special, the two of you weren’t fated to be an item just because you liked him. It just…was what it was.

“Looks like Finn did a good job entrusting you with the squadron for this mission.” Poe looked around the tarmac at the other pilots, who were all animatedly telling anyone near them how intense and ‘cool’ the fight was.

You felt a touch of pride, but you just smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without them.”

You looked at him to find he was looking at you now, like he was considering something. When he didn’t say anything and you found yourself wanting to squirm beneath his gaze, you cut through the silence.

“Do I have something on my face?” You leveled him with a jokingly annoyed expression and he looked away with a laugh.

“Nothing that needs fixing,” he said offhandedly, biting his lip in thought for a moment before he looked at you again. “I wanna talk to you about something. In private.”

Your heart felt like it leapt out of your chest, mind immediately racing as it tried to figure out what he would want to talk about. Had you done something wrong? Was he going to ask you out?

You waved the thoughts away and smiled a little too brightly. “Sure! What’s up?”

“No, no, go take a shower and get changed, come to my office after.”

“Are you saying I stink, General?” Your typical banter was only slightly delayed as you tried to calm yourself.

“I’m just saying, I want to be able to inhale when I talk to you.”

Despite him being your superior, you gave him a playful shove that made him stumble back a bit, shaking your head as he laughed. “You’re horrible.”

“And you like it.” You did. Because he never meant it and just wanted to make you…make people laugh. “See you in fifteen?”

“We’ll see if I even show up now.”

——————————————————————————

You were outside of Poe’s office fourteen and a half minutes later, clean and in comfier clothes than a flightsuit; you sped through the process, both eager and nervous about what Poe wanted to talk to you about.

You took a deep breath to fail at calming your nerves before you knocked on the door.

“No one’s here!”

“Oh, then I guess I can just come back another day.” You barely made it a few feet down the hall before the door slid open and Poe was peeking out, smirking at you. “Oh! I thought no one was there.”

“I snuck by when you weren’t looking. Come in.” He nodded and stepped away, and you followed him into the room as the door shut again.

His office was simple, a desk and a few chairs, some necessary technology, a few little personal touches like toys from his childhood or cool things he found on missions. There was one across the hall for Finn that was nearly identical, but he had a lot more personal touches as he discovered new, wonderful things he enjoyed every day.

You sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he sat in his, and you waited for him to start the conversation. He was just smiling at you. You stared at him before you squirmed in your seat, feeling awfully hot for some reason. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Oh, right, uh…” He sat back in his seat, clearing his throat. “You know how Finn asked you to oversee your mission because Commander Nichos had to step away?”

You nodded. Nichos and you weren’t too close, but he was nice and you respected him, so you were concerned when you found out he wouldn’t be on the mission.

“Well, his wife is pregnant. And he wants to step down as commander so he can just have a family…in peace.” He started to rearrange things on his desk. “Since we’re not in a war and I want his kid to have a dad, I agreed.”

“That’s kind of you.” Poe was a fair general as far as you were concerned. He could get a little worked up sometimes, but it was only when it was necessary.

“But that means we won’t have a commander for your squadron and I’ve been thinking about it and talking to Finn…and we want you.”

You stared. “Want me to do what?”

“Take over as commander…but only if you want to.”

Slowly, you started to register what he was asking you and a smile spread across your face. “I…I would be honored. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” He rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“This…thank you!” You’d been hoping to climb the ranks with your hard work and you so loved overseeing missions and your squadron. Not to mention, you felt so accomplished and flattered, knowing Poe and Finn thought you were capable enough. “Can I hug you?”

“You know I love hugs.”

You were around the desk and on him so fast, making him grunt as you hugged him tight. You would’ve been in his lap if you didn’t keep your feet on the ground. He laughed warmly in your ear and the sound made you melt, knees buckling as his arm came around you and he gently rubbed your back.

You pulled back after a moment and his arm loosened around you, but it didn’t fall. You stared at each other and you couldn’t help admiring how handsome he was, how soft his eyes were when he looked at you. Did he just glance at your lips? Were you imagining things to give yourself hope?

“General Dameron, I— oh.” You both turned to see a member of your squadron had entered; it was Valin, a typical tall, dark, and handsome man. He was a bit aloof, but a good pilot and fighter.

“Well, your breath smells fine to me!” you said quickly, inwardly cringing as you pulled away from Poe. He looked amused, but turned his attention to Valin.

“Hey, we were just finishing up if you wanna take a seat.” Poe nodded to you that you could leave, which you did in a bit of a daze.

Both from the awkwardness of Valin’s entrance and…whatever the hell that other feeling was. It felt like a strange mixture of hope, longing, and disappointment.

You were almost certain that you wanted to kiss Poe and that he wanted to kiss you back. You did want to kiss Poe.

But he was your general! And everyone wanted him! You were being ridiculous, making things up because you were excited and he was gorgeous. So unbelievably gorgeous…

It would never work, but it was nice to flirt and pretend. Even with your logic, you still wished Valin hadn’t walked in and interrupted whatever was going to happen.

Would Poe have kissed you? Would you be the one who initiated it? Would you both lean in, only to smack your noses together and laugh and break the tension that shouldn’t have been there? It was good that Valin walked in.

Great, even. It made things way less complicated that you weren’t able to kiss one of your generals.

You tried to shift your focus to your new role as commander and how excited you were, but you weren’t sure if you couldn’t stop smiling because of that or because it really seemed like Poe wanted to kiss you.

——————————————————————————

There was a celebration the night it was announced that you were promoted to commander and Valin was promoted to captain; everyone chattered, laughed, and even danced as they enjoyed delicious food and dizzying drinks.

Everyone but Valin, but it didn’t seem out of the ordinary given the distance he always kept between himself and the others. He just stood in the corner, sipping on a strong drink. You supposed he kept his emotions about being promoted to himself.

Regardless, you were having a great time with all your friends celebrating you, and other squadron members congratulating you and telling you how right you were for the job.

Poe observed for most of the night until you - a little buzzed, forgetting embarrassment despite the heat in your body - dragged him over to dance. He didn’t mind, joining in on the fun like he wasn’t one of your highest superiors.

Things were so different with the war over. While there were still problems to be dealt with, they were fewer and farther between, which meant you had time for celebrations and access to real food instead of rations.

You could enjoy your lives to some extent.

“Congratulations again. I gotta get this guy out of here,” said Kelsa, a member of the Blue Squadron, as she helped her husband Adharan out of the room. He was a member of your squadron and he was mumbling random things all the way.

There were few people left at the celebration as the night grew late and everyone felt the true effects of what they drank. It was you, Poe, Finn, a few new faces, and Valin left.

The group of newbies left and your eyes widened when you saw Finn with one of them. You looked at Poe in question when he plopped down next to you with a groan. “Someone made a friend.”

He laughed. “He’s been looking at her like a barghest pup since she joined. It’s about time.”

“Yeah…” You stared at him, the alcohol coursing through you doing a great job at making you forget why it was good you hadn’t kissed Poe the other day.

He had such perfect lips. He was made to be kissed and you wanted to do the kissing.

You didn’t even realize you were leaning in until you felt his fingers on your lips, stopping you from meeting his. He looked like he was almost in pain. “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to not know what I’m doing.” You mumbled against his finger tips, turning your head to lean into his touch.

“Maybe not, but you’re drunk enough to not think it through. I’m not gonna take advantage of that.” He slowly removed his hand, being sure you were holding your own head up and not relying on him. “I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

You knew refusing to take advantage of someone under the influence was the bare minimum a person could do, but you liked Poe so much, it felt like he’d just offered you a million credits. “You’re such a good guy.”

There was a snorted laugh and you looked over to see Valin walking by, but his face was so emotionless that you figured you heard wrong. You wanted to reach out to him even if he was distant, so you stood. “Captain.”

He just stared straight into your soul, only looking away once he was approaching the door.

You scoffed. “Talk about having a stick up your-“

Poe quickly stood and slapped a hand over your mouth, pulling you to his side as he grinned and waved at Valin with his free hand. “Goodnight!”

Valin’s eyes were darker as he left and you continued to mumble behind Poe’s palm. He made sure the other man was likely out of earshot before he moved his hand away.

“-and another thing, who stands in a corner and glares at everyone when they were just promoted? You should be celebrating! And I’ve been so nice to you and you just stare at me! Why?!”

Poe pressed his lips together and patted your shoulder, gently guiding you toward the door. “Yeah, you’re not in your right mind. Let’s get you to bed.”

——————————————————————————

It was a few days later that you noticed that people didn’t seem as excited for you anymore. It couldn’t just be in your mind that everyone was glaring at you, whispering to each other as soon as you were too far to hear them.

You wondered if you’d done something embarrassing at the celebration, but you remembered all of it and the most embarrassing thing you’d done was try to kiss Poe. That wasn’t reputation destroying, was it?

You did your best to ignore it, but the more people whispered without telling you what the problem was, the more irritated and nervous you became.

The tarmac outside of the base was crowded with people as Blue Squadron prepared to leave for a mission, but all conversations hushed as you walked through. The throngs parted, friends and acquaintances and people you didn’t even recognize staring at you. You felt big and small at the same time, like you were taking up too much space for the meaningless person you were in their eyes.

You just kept walking, wanting to wish the squadron luck before going.

Kelsa was about to get into her ship, but she stopped and looked at you with pity. That was better than being stared at like you were an abomination…maybe…pretty sure…you had no idea if it was better or worse. What was there to pity?

You approached their commander, Alsafi, and did your best to smile. “Hey, I just wanted to wish you luck out there.”

She regarded you for a moment like you were a lowly creature she could easily step on, then she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “You know, I was assigned as commander of the Blue Squadron because I worked hard.”

You furrowed your brow. “Yeah…you’re the perfect fit, anyone knows that.”

She hummed and started to climb the ladder to her ship, saying over her shoulder, “I don’t need luck from General Dameron’s pet.

Your eyes widened and you quickly grabbed her ankle to stop her ascent. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on!” She clenched her jaw and kicked you away easily, so she could hop back onto the tarmac and loom over you with her impressive height. “Everybody knows. How could he not grant you such a favor when you’ve been granting his?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times in shock, turning to the crowd where some were staring and others quickly pretended they hadn’t been. “Is…is that what you all think? I was promoted to commander because I’m sleeping with Poe?”

A murmur fluttered across the group, some people saying nasty and hateful things while others begrudgingly admitted their beliefs. A few people were silent, obviously not believing the rumor, but too frightened by the general consensus to stick up for you.

That included members of your own squadron, people you’d known the longest, who’d been the most vocal about how happy they were that you were their commander.

“You all know Poe would never do that! That I…I would never accept…I…” You were so flustered by all the anger and judgment pointed towards you. “Kolb, Navi, come on, you know that’s not why!” Your fellow pilots looked ashamed as they stayed silent, so you turned to the ever stoic Valin.

Something was different in his eyes.

“Valin was promoted to captain! Poe and Finn were just moving up their best pilots to fill a space. Tell them.”

“I saw them together with my own eyes,” he said as he stared at you coldly. “And now you claim to be one of our best pilots? Better than me or the rest of our squadron?”

Your face fell. “No…I didn’t mean that…I just mean…we should trust their decisions, I…and what do you mean, you saw us?!”

“In his office, after everyone left the party…”

You scoffed and laughed nervously because, while you hadn’t done anything, you knew the position was compromising and you were filling with unfounded guilt. Or was it unfounded? You did feel that Poe liked you. Did he just promote you because he liked you?

No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? He promoted Valin too. Maybe he liked Valin.

“We were hugging in his office because I was excited, and I was drunk at the party! Come on, you guys don’t really believe this!”

“If he was just promoting his best pilots, Valin should have been commander and you should have stayed captain,” Alsafi said before climbing into her ship.

Valin leaned in close to you as the crowd began to dissipate, their decision made. “Everyone sees how you look at each other. You think we’re stupid?”

You floundered, but couldn’t come up with a defense before he shouldered past you. What were you supposed to do? Nobody believed you.

All you could think was one thing; hide.

You ran, pushing past anyone who was left, bolting right back into the base so you could hide from their stares and assumptions, humiliated by their lack of faith in your abilities as well as them thinking you were sleeping with Poe.

You were just turning the hallway that held your quarters when you bumped into someone solid, hard enough that the two of you fell into a heap on the floor. He grunted and you gasped, panting.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your eyes widened when they met Poe’s and you quickly scrambled off him and crawled back until you hit the wall, wanting to put distance between you. You couldn’t imagine if someone walked in and found you on top of him.

His brow furrowed as he sat up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You didn’t know what to say and you felt panicked as tears welled in your eyes; from how much you liked Poe, and how much you wanted to be commander, and how everyone thought there was a correlation between the two. You opened your mouth and all that came out was a sob.

“Hey…” Poe softened and reached for you, but you quickly moved to your feet and pressed your back against the wall.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I should be commander.” It was like you were replying to a conversation he hadn’t been let in on, and you saw the confusion on his face before you darted down the hallway.

“Wait!” You could hear him calling after you and heard his footsteps running behind you for a moment, but you didn’t dare look back.

Part of you wanted to cry in his arms. The other part feared someone seeing you in another compromising position.

——————————————————————————

You stayed in your quarters for days, too frightened to face the stares or to wrestle with your feelings for Poe. You were also too scared to see his reaction to you turning down the role of commander.

Everyone had rations and a private refresher in their room, so you didn’t even have any reason to leave.

Maybe if you stayed there for a year or two, everyone would forget about this and Valin would be the new commander.

You peeked out from under your covers when you heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Poe.”

“—no one’s here.”

“Should I rephrase that and say that your general is standing out here, in the freezing cold hallway?” When you gave no response, the door slid open and in walked Poe with a sympathetic expression. He looked around before grabbing the chair from your small desk and moving it to face your bed, sitting down. “Kelsa told me what happened.”

You groaned and pulled the covers over your head. “So you see why I can’t be commander and you agree? I’m glad we had this talk.”

“No, I see that someone started a rumor because you’re capable and deserving…and Valin is jealous, he thought he would be promoted to commander.” He tried to pull the covers down, but you held tight. “Come on, I know you. You’re gonna let this ruin something so important?”

“They think I fucked you, Poe,” you said bluntly as you shoved the covers back and sat up to look at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that is? They think I slept with you and that’s why you promoted me.”

“Who cares? You know the truth. I know the truth. And, sooner or later, they’re gonna forget all about the rumor and move onto something else.”

“They’re not gonna respect me if they think I do favors to get what I want.” You looked at your hands.

Poe reached out to tilt your chin up so you’d look at him. “I promoted you because you’re good and you deserved it more than anyone. They’ll get over it.”

You smiled a little, shaking your head. “I just don’t know if it’s right.”

“Well!” He stood and slapped his thighs. “Your squadron has a mission in a few days and I don’t plan to put someone in as commander, even temporarily. So I guess you at least gotta go for this one, or the whole squadron might be lost.”

“That’s just playing dirty.”

“Whatever gets you out of that bed.”

You watched him as he put the chair back and started towards the door, calling out before you could stop yourself, “Poe?”

You didn’t know what you wanted to say when he turned to look at you expectantly. Maybe you wanted to ask if it was all a rumor or if he did like you, if he looked at you the same way you looked at him.

But you couldn’t.

“Thanks,” you said lamely.

“Thank me after your briefing, first thing in the morning.”

——————————————————————————

The morning air was chilled as you finished packing what you needed into your X-wing, looking around at your squadron as they prepared themselves. Most of your group was being respectful and kind, though they hadn’t spoken up for you before.

The only one who didn’t seem to care for your orders was Valin. You didn’t care for him very much at all now, given how he started the rumor, but you would make sure he stayed safe.

You were just climbing the ladder when he approached you, data pad in hand. “General Dameron said he gave us the wrong coordinates, these are the right ones.”

You looked at him and then looked to where Poe was standing to see you all off, smirking a bit when he waved at you. You quickly made your expression neutral and looked at the coordinates on screen, nodding. Maybe even Valin was getting somewhat used to you being his superior, if only by doing something helpful that you imagined Poe was forcing him to do.

“Let’s get a move on, the sooner we’re out of here, the sooner we can come back!” You climbed into the cockpit of your ship and put in the coordinates before you let the canopy close, starting it up.

Poe was still watching as you lifted into the air, followed close by the rest of your squadron with Valin right behind you. You waved to your general quickly before you took off into space, surprised by how far the planet would be.

That’s what hyperspeed was for, you supposed. You were able to engage it once you broke the atmosphere and you were in the quiet expanse of stars.

It cut your travel time in half and you exited it once you were a few minutes away from the planet, pausing when you only saw one ship behind you. Where the hell was the rest of your fleet?

Your comm crackled to life and you could hear Valin, “I think they dropped out of hyperspeed too soon, this place is kinda in the middle of nowhere. We should go ahead and land, scope out the place.”

He was right about the planet being in the middle of nowhere and you knew your squadron was smart, they’d figure out the coordinates. It made sense to go ahead and get started, so you could see what needed to be done.

You took off your helmet once your ship had touched down, climbing out to take a look at your surroundings.

It was pretty barren, dirt as far as the eye could see, crumbling buildings and dead foliage. You couldn’t even hear animals or the wind.

“I think maybe we’re the ones who dropped out of hyperspeed at the wrong time,” you said over your shoulder as Valin jumped out of his ship. “I don’t think this is even livable. Maybe it was at one time, but not anymore…they wouldn’t want a planet without resources they can harvest.”

“No, I think we’re in the right place,” came Valin’s voice from right behind you.

You barely had time to register the pain of something being brought down on the back of your head before everything went black.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #poe dameron fic

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desert-fern · 8 months

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

Epilogue - Like Real People Do

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?

Picture is from Pinterest AKA not mine

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

Warnings: probably very inaccurate court proceedings, swearing, mentions of scars, Bear being a badass, sort of victim blaming (not really, but maybe), soft and sweet, author makes up for being an asshole for most of the series…

Word Count: 5.4k

Part 24 >> Masterlist

A/N: big thanks to @sarahsmi13s for helping me with the legal babble/criminal justice parts of this fic! You were a huge help for figuring out the details and made this part just that much sweeter!

===

A year later, 365 days after the catastrophe that had been Operation Hellfire, the five Seals involved in the treasonous attack against Bear had gone to trial and the verdict was due any minute. Former Lieutenants Colton ‘Hazard’ Richards, Michael ‘Dex’ Lewis, Jackson ‘Dodger’ Cartwright, Andrew ‘Gallows’ Stevenson, and Grant ‘Chip’ Harding all stood trial together, four of the five pleading not guilty to the charges leveled against them.

Only Chip had cut a deal with the prosecution. He chose to testify against Hazard and the others and in exchange, he was dealt a sentence of five years at Leavenworth with a chance at parole for his minimal part in the terrorist plot hatched by the other men. He had also leveled charges of blackmail and assault against Hazard, the court finding the latter guilty on both counts.

Several other members of Bear’s team and a few of the Dagger Squadron had also testified as witnesses for the prosecution; each sharing their experiences with what the media were now calling the ‘Team 3 Traitors’.

Bear’s own testimony had lasted a few days as she shared her story to the grand jury, detailing her account of what had been done to her as a result of Hazard’s plotting. She denied and denounced any attempt made by the defense to try and undermine her, standing strong on the witness stand as a lawyer repeatedly tried to discredit her. She hardly remembered those days, but the media did.

A quote of hers, “With all due respect, Mr. Harmen, I believe I know what happened to me far more vividly than your files detailed. You do not get to try for ‘reasonable doubt’ when I will wear the scars of my torture for the rest of my life,” had gone viral. She hadn’t gone searching but apparently Jake’s sister had started sending TikTok edits of the trial to him and a few had made her laugh way harder than she should have. Leave it to the observer to ridicule the men who tried and failed to take her down.

What the media and those TikToks hadn’t seen however, was the way her hands shook on her lap with every word she spoke. No one saw the fear in her eyes as she sat across from the men who had orchestrated this plot against both her and the US Navy as an institution, and how could they? Bear had stuffed it deep down where it couldn’t be seen, but there were moments where Jake had seen it. Moments where her voice shook.

But in the weeks this case had been in court, Bear had sat diligently behind the prosecution in her dress blues, her medals proudly on display. Among them, her Purple Heart that had been presented to her not days before the trial. She looked the very picture of a war hero. She had refused to cower, her hand held tightly by Jake’s own. He too, had testified, detailing his own experiences and his involvement in rooting out the traitors among those on the mission.

Today though, today was different. Bear knew that Flare, like Chip, had brought down charges of stalking, blackmail, as well as assault and battery against Hazard before this trial had begun. Meaning that even if this jury found him not guilty, he would at least be spending some time in prison.

As the court reconvened after three long days of deliberations, Bear’s heart was in her throat. This was it, the moment of truth. She would know in a few short minutes if she could rest easy or if she had to be worried for the rest of her life. She could feel the glare that Hazard’s mother was throwing her way, hell she had weathered insults from the wives and parents of her former Seal Team members. That would be nothing compared to their reactions if the verdict came back as guilty. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes your Honor.” A short Black man stood, holding an envelope in hand. It was brought up to the judge, who opened it and read it silently.

“For the two counts of attempted murder, how do you find the defendants?”

“We the jury, find the defendants guilty.”

Bear nearly sunk to the floor as emotion overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to remain seated, listening intently. The rest of the charges were read off: conspiracy to commit murder, destruction of government property, domestic terrorism, and espionage.

The jury found the defendants, Hazard, Dex, Dodger, and Gallows guilty of all of them. “And lastly,” Judge Davies said, “For the crime of terrorism, how do you find the defendants?”

The world seemed to slow to a crawl. Bear held her breath, clutching Jake and FAK’s hands tightly as the foreperson spoke. “We the jury…” Silently, Bear sent up a prayer, begging for them to be found guilty. Hoping that they would pay for what they had done, that they would rot in a cell, but unlike her, they stood no chance at freedom. It was the least they deserved. “…find the defendants guilty.”

The room exploded in a cacophony of sound; protests from the opposite side of the courtroom, shouts of victory from the Seals, and words of congratulations from the prosecution to one another filling the room. Reporters began shouting over one another, camera shutters clicked and lights flashed, adding to the wave of noise that rolled around the room.

Bear let herself collapse back into her seat, hands coming up to cover her face as she sobbed in relief. The fear and apprehension that had lived inside her everyday since she had confronted Hazard began to overflow as she cried. It would all be okay. How could it not be? These four men, the men who had blackmailed Flare and Chip, the men who had begun working with terrorists and who had orchestrated her capture and torture, all of them were going to spend the rest of their lives in jail.

That thought made Bear sit up and wipe her face, sniffling as she did so. She had to show her strength and as she stood, she could feel the hands of her team on her back and shoulders, all of them showing their undeniable support for their Commander.

Jake had gone to shake the hands of the prosecution, their conversation unintelligible over the din and Bear took a moment to let her eyes trail over him, over the sharp angles of him in his own blues. His shoulders looked broader, the cut of this jacket, while the same as hers, made what little blue he had in his eyes stand out. He looked beautiful. How she had managed to keep him in her life, she didn’t know, but ever since their reunion a year ago, Jake had practically moved in and was staying at her home.

No one else had been made aware, as far as everyone knew, Bear and Jake were still figuring everything out. They didn’t know about him living with her, and Jake knew for a fact that Bear didn’t know about the ring currently burning a hole in his pocket. He had waited eight months after moving in to buy the ring, and it had been almost four since he walked out of the store with a little box in his pocket. He just hadn’t found the right time.

Maybe today was the day.

The bang of the gavel quieted the room quickly. “Order in the courtroom! This court finds the defendants, Colton ‘Hazard’ Richards, Michael ‘Dex’ Lewis, Jackson ‘Dodger’ Cartwright, and Andrew ‘Gallows’ Stevenson guilty on all charges. Due to the precedent for these crimes, Mr’s. Richards, Lewis, Cartwright, and Stevenson are sentenced to life in prison at Guantanamo Bay.”

Shrike bumped Bear’s arm. “I’ve got friends there. They’ll be looked after.” The sharp grin on her face implied anything but, but Bear couldn’t find it within her to care. Not when Hazard was finally paying for all his crimes.

She composed herself and stepped up to the prosecution’s team, next to Jake, shaking their hands. “Thank you, for everything,” she said tearfully. “Your work will not be forgotten.”

“Neither will your testimony, Commander.”

Jake watched Bear draw a shuddering breath as she nodded. “Thank you,” her voice was soft, barely audible over the angry shouts from the families of the now guilty. “I will be forever grateful to you all.”

“Extend some of that to yourself,” James told her. “You were the cornerstone of the entire case, so thank you. You made sure they wouldn’t walk free, we just did the legal speak.”

Those who heard him, laughed and Jake grinned when Bear cracked a smile. It was a bright beam of grin, one that grew wider the longer she talked with the lawyers. But good things only lasted so long because as Bear turned around, a woman came racing up to them, yelling obscenities. “You FUCKING BITCH!”

Bear stepped back, her hands raised. “I’m sure you’re right, ma’am, but I’m going to need a little more clarification as to why I’m a bitch in this particular moment.”

Jake had to turn away to hide his snort of laughter and it seemed to him that the Seals nearby were all in the same boat.

“My son did nothing wrong! You villainized him for no particular reason all because you KNEW that he was better qualified for your position!” Bear regarded her calmly. She knew Hazard’s mother was convinced of her son’s innocence, hell, she had nearly been called as a character witness before the judge shut that down. “You cheated him out of a job that should have been his! You faked all of this!”

“Mrs. Richards,” Bear said in a cool tone. She had drawn herself up, standing tall like there was a steel rod straight through her spine. This woman would never believe that her son was guilty, nothing Bear could say would convince her of that. “I am well aware of your delusion that your son is innocent, but I have to disagree,” she began in a steady voice. She had begun unbuttoning her jacket, each gold button sliding out of its place smoothly. “If your son were truly innocent and I were faking my torture, then why would I have these?”

Bear lifted up her shirt, displaying the scars that ran across her lower stomach. Hazard’s mother gasped, cringing at the sight. But Bear wasn’t done. “You may maintain your son’s innocence all you like, but nothing will change the fact that your son is the reason I will wear these scars for the rest of my life.” She dropped her shirt, tucking it back into her pants and began rebuttoning her jacket.

His mother opened her mouth to say something, but Jake cut her off and in a tone so cold, the temperature dropped, he spoke “Ma’am, I would recommend you retake your seat so you can say your goodbyes to your son. Otherwise, I believe that no one will blame your son’s former Commander when she smacks some sense into you.”

The woman before Bear stammered and stuttered, unsure of how to reply. All Bear did was snap her fingers and the Seals behind her stomped a foot on the ground in unison, snapping to attention. The suddenness of the movement startled most of the courtroom and the stare leveled at Mrs. Richards had her slinking back to her spot next to her family. Bear turned back to Jake and nodded at him, the look in her eyes darkening for a completely different reason now, and Jake felt his dress pants tighten from the heat in her brown eyes.

“Fuck,” he thought. “This is a shitty time for this.” But he couldn’t really help himself, Bear had done what she had done and she had done it proudly. Sue him. “We should leave,” he whispered, his gaze darting between the woman he loved and the media personnel filing out of the courtroom. “Don’t want to get caught in the media storm outside.”

Bear nodded, a faint smirk rising to her lips, but she said nothing. Instead, she straightened her uniform blues, watched the prosecution file out ahead of her and then she followed immediately afterwards. The flashing cameras and shouting reporters chased her, Jake, and the lawyers out of the building, snapping pictures the whole time.

No one said a thing. Not the prosecution lawyers, not Bear or her Seals, Jake and the Daggers remained silent as well. No one wanted to be the one quoted as saying something after this trial, the Navy had yet to comment and they all knew that whatever the organization had to say would be the end-all, be-all. No room for arguing, debating, or the like.

She and Jake made it to his truck, Rooster and Bob cramming into the back seats. Bear felt Rooster’s hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Proud of you, Bear,” he said quietly. He had grown to see that whatever connection that existed between Jake and Bear was more than just the trauma that they shared. As far as he knew, neither one had acted on the obvious feelings that were always thick in the air whenever they were around one another. “You got them.”

Bear nodded, placing her hand over his. “Thank you,” her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you both.” She would thank each and every one of her Seals when the time came, but right now, both Bob and Rooster had to know how much their own testimony meant to her. “I couldn’t have done it all without you.”

A small chuckle came from Bob. “Pretty sure you could do anything you set your mind to, Bear, but you’re so welcome.” Those were the only words he said to her as he slipped out of the truck in front of his house, tapping the driver’s window in thanks.

Rooster was next, clambering out of the cab awkwardly. “Have a good night, Bear. If you need anything, call me.” He was serious, she could see it in his eyes. “Promise me.”

She smiled at him, nodding. “I promise that if I can’t get through to this lug, I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Good.” The truck door slammed shut, making both her and Jake jump, as they watched Rooster run up his front steps as the door swung open for him. A quick wave at the truck was the only indication of his goodbye before he disappeared inside.

Jake and Bear drove home in comfortable silence, the radio softly playing some old country song that Bear didn’t recognize. The second Rooster had gone inside, Jake’s hand had moved to its usual place on her thigh, giving it a squeeze. “It’s finally over,” Bear breathed in disbelief as she walked in the front door. “Jake, honey, it’s all over.”

Bear pulled her hair from its bun, groaning softly at the feeling when she ran her fingers through it. She hated having her hair up that tight, preferring a ponytail or a claw clip to keep it out of her face when she wasn’t in uniform. It just made sense.

Distractedly, she undid her boots, placing them in the coat closet, not paying attention to Jake behind her.

The late afternoon shone through the windows, casting both Bear and himself in a wreath of golden sunlight. From here, Bear seemed softer, the near permanent furrow in her brow relaxing and smoothing itself away into her skin. The firmness that she carried herself with, the so-called stick up her ass, had lessened as she seemed to transform under Jake’s adoring gaze.

His heart clenched almost painfully in his chest, the guards she let down around him nearly sending him over the edge and Jake found himself struck by the startling need to keep this woman in his life. He’d found his moment, if the way his heart beat as he tracked her movements with the same intensity she had analyzed him with years ago. Everything in him was screaming at him that this was his chance to drop to one knee, to put that ring around her finger and anchor every part of him, his name, his soul, to the incredible woman that she already was.

His mama did say that when it was right, he would know. And who would Jake be if he didn’t listen to his mama?

“We can sleep easier now, and you didn’t hear Shrike, but apparently she has a friend at Gua- Jake?” Bear cut herself off mid-ramble to find Jake on one knee before her, a small velvet box in hand. “Flyboy… what?” Tears welled in her eyes at the sight, a shaky hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock.

“Teddy…” Jake’s voice was soft, eyes cataloging every expression that flitted over her face. “I started off my attempt at telling you I loved you by becoming a shaky, rambling mess, and it’s only fitting that I’m here now, the exact same way.”

He let out a breathy laugh, trying to find his next words. “When we met, I was the cocky asshole that you shot down in less than 10 words and I just walked away because I had a feeling that if I didn’t, I would lose something incredible. I ended up being right. You drove me crazy over the next few weeks, constantly on my mind with your snarky comments and the way you made me work for every second of your time. I don’t think I knew I fell in love with you until I thought you were gone. I gave you my heart without knowing I had yours and I’m making this up on the spot right now so I really don’t know where I was going with this.

“I love you, my gorgeous girl and I can only hope that you love me as much as I love you otherwise this will be very awkward in a little bit.” Jake’s hands were shaking, he was sweating under Bear’s teary gaze and he could feel his cheeks flushing from his nerves. God he hoped she’d say yes. “So I guess the only thing left to do is ask. Teddy, would you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

The foyer was silent as Bear stared at him with wide eyes. She had been hoping for this for a while, wishing desperately that she had a way to keep Jake with her forever. Every part of her had fought for him, had fought for herself so that she could see his face again. Now though, as Jake knelt on the wooden floor of their home, Bear felt everything click into place and it felt like sunshine had been poured into her veins, warming her.

She loved him, had loved him in silence since before they had deployed. Hell, she was pretty sure that it had taken his crash for the last threads to find their place because every action she had taken after that had been done with love for the man before her. “Jake…” she breathed, taking a cautious step towards him like she was afraid he would disappear if she moved too quickly.

Jake held his breath, begging whoever was listening that Bear accepted his proposal. God. He had proposed and she still hadn’t said a thing. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this, was he even ready for this? He’d ruined this by asking. They hadn’t even had a full conversation about marriage yet. He fucked this up. Of course he had.

He felt a palm press against his cheek, chasing his panicking thoughts away. “Did you hear me Flyboy?” Bear said, laughing lightly through her tears. “I said yes.”

“You did?!” Jake couldn’t keep his outburst from slipping out, making Bear laugh. “You said yes?” His next question was shyer, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“Ask me again and find out.”

Jake took a deep breath, opening the ring box as he did. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

The universe seemed to align upon her acceptance, stars falling into place and lighting up the world around them. He fumbled with the ring, slipping onto her finger before tossing the box behind him and kissing her deeply. Bear gasped against his mouth, surprised by the sudden intensity behind it. Jake pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “Would you believe me if I said I had been planning that for weeks?”

“Proposing, or the speech?” Bear teased softly, playing with the short hairs at the nap of his neck.

Jake sighed, shaking his head, but even he couldn’t keep the wide smile off his face. He drew Bear’s left hand away from the back of his neck, kissing the palm gently before turning it over and running a thumb over the ring he had only just given her. The ring itself was a simple gold band adorned with round-cut diamonds arranged to look like a flower; it had screamed Bear the moment he saw it. “Either or,” came his soft reply.

Bear tilted his chin up to look him in the eyes and was stunned into silence at the love that seemed to shine from Jake’s green eyes. “No,” she told him, running a thumb along his jaw. “But it was from you and I was always going to say yes. If you ever had plans to ask me, that is.”

He said nothing, dipping his head back down and capturing her lips with his own. This kiss was in sharp contrast to the pure passion that had filled his earlier kiss. It was soft where the other had been fierce; Jake was content to stand there for the rest of his life, kissing the woman he loved. The woman he would marry.

This time, Bear broke the kiss, pecking him one more time before stepping away. She held her hand up, watching the stones sparkle in the late afternoon light and it brought a smile to her lips. “You did good, Flyboy.”

“Yeah?” Jake took a step closer, pride radiating out of him. He picked a good one and it was like his concerns had been completely wiped away. Bear had said yes, she loved the ring, and he felt unstoppable. Like he was gliding through the air in his F-18, nothing tethering him to the ground.

Only now, he did have a tether to the ground, a reason to fight harder than he had ever fought before. She was standing in front of him, eyeing him like he was the only thing she had ever wanted. He felt the weight of that settle in his heart, but unlike the fear of her rejection, this weight was different. It made him feel like he had both protected himself while tearing himself bare and wide open. “It just seemed like something you’d wear, if you ever wore jewelry.”

Bear met his gaze and rolled her eyes, but he knew that it was done with love. It was the only way Jake could describe the way she looked at him. He’d seen it before, in the early days where Bear seemed to doubt his own love for her, but when he wasn’t looking, that’s when he’d feel it. “You’re such a goof,” she told him, moving towards the stairs. “But you’re soon-to-be Mr. Goof, so I guess I can love it like I love you.”

Jake watched her ascend the stairs, gaping at her. “Now who’s the sap?” He yelled up the stairs as he tugged his boots off in a hurry and raced towards her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Still you. You’re always the sap.”

===

Flare didn’t know why Shrike called her and told her to meet at her place nor did she know why they, a few of their colleagues, and the Daggers showed up outside Bear’s house 30 minutes later.

All she knew was relief.

Her charges against Hazard had stuck and she had been cleared of any wrongdoing given the intensity of her predicament. That, and Bear had gone to the mat for her, refusing to give up Flare in return for another person who couldn’t do her job half as well. She had been demoted however; losing her position as a Lieutenant Commander and dropped down to a Lieutenant while also dropping a few clearance levels as the Navy conducted an internal investigation.

That was a headache for later though.

Now she and the others stood outside Bear’s front door, Fireball having rung the bell and she waited curiously. She heard Fanboy whisper to Phoenix “Is that Jake’s truck?”

“I think s-“ the door swung open, revealing Bear, clad only in a large, wrinkled black t-shirt. Her hair was a mess, sticking to her face, and if you looked closely, you’d find a bite mark or two along the collar of the shirt that kept sliding down.

“Can I help you?” She asked, leaning on the doorframe, the edge of the door being held in her left hand. “You could have just texted.”

“We did,” Fanboy replied with a shrug. “But you didn’t answer.”

Bear narrowed her eyes. “So all 13 of you just decided to show up at my front door? At fucking 10 pm on a random Thursday?”

Phoenix gave her a strange look. “Well initially we wanted to all get together to celebrate the win, but clearly you’re celebrating in your own way,” the smirk was audible in her tone and it matched the look that had emerged as she took in Bear’s appearance.

“I was,” Bear replied coolly, but the blush on her face was hard to hide. “But a few people on my doorstep changed all of that real quick.”

A voice from near the back of the group had Bear’s head snapping over. “Was there a reason you taught the pilots proper weapons techniques?”

“Because no one ever asked. And why the hell would I teach them the wrong thing?” She just looked confused at the mere suggestion of improper weapons handling. “Can we just meet up tomorrow? I was in the mid-“

“What’s taking so long?” A voice yelled down the stairs, just audible for the team to hear it.

Bear’s jaw twitched and she looked annoyed. “Give me a second!” She yelled back into the house, turning and stepping inside for half a moment, forgetting that her ring was still on her finger.

“Bear…” Rooster began. “What’s that on your hand?”

“What does it look like?”

A chorus of gasps sounded and everyone immediately started yelling over one another, choosing to ignore the fact that it was 10:30 on a weeknight. “YOU’RE ENGAGED?!”

Bear groaned, running her hand over her face. “Yes, I am. No that it’s any of your business.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Bug gasped, reaching for her hand. “Were you just going to hide this from us?”

“I would have kept it between me and my fiancé for as long as I could have, because this only just happened.”

Bug blinked in surprise. “He proposed tonight?”

Bear nodded, her eyes glancing down to her hand, smiling softly at the blue stones. “He did. We got home and he was on one knee. Caught me completely by surprise.”

The fondness in her tone made the gathered Navy members look at her with their own grins. “So when do we meet the lucky man?”

She went to reply but the creaking of her stairs had her pausing. “Teddy? What’s going on? Is it another chatty Amazon driver?” Jake’s voice came closer and closer, finally stopping behind Bear. His large hands came to span her hips, burying his face in her neck. The warmth from his bare chest soaked through her stolen shirt, making butterflies erupt in her stomach. “Guess not.”

The team before them stood in complete silence. A few had had their suspicions about the two of them being together, but no one had any proof. Now though, the proof was staring them in the face. Jake had wrapped himself around Bear like he’d been doing so forever and Bear, always in charge, stoic, and firm, was bright pink as she tried to fight the urge to turn and kiss the man behind her.

Once again, the explosion of noise hit her hard. The pilots yelling at Jake for not telling them, the Seals yelling at Bear, spouses and partners just yelling in general and it became too much very quickly. She turned into Jake, hiding her face in his shoulder, her ringed hand clutching his arm.

He lifted his head, glancing down at Bear, who’d curled into him. “Okay guys, we can talk about this later.

“But…”

“No.” Jake’s voice was firm as he took in his teammates staring at him like he grew another head. “I just put the damn ring on her finger, give me at least 24 hours alone with her as my fiancee before you start hounding her.”

His eyes met Reaper’s who gave him a nod. “You did good,” she mouthed, and if Jake got a little teary-eyed as he looked down at Bear where he was still holding her, no one would judge him.

Strangely enough, it was Rooster that caught Jake’s eye next. There was a moment of understanding in his wingman’s eyes, a sort of approval shining bright in them. “Congrats man, happy for you.”

Jake merely nodded, choosing to press a kiss to the top of Bear’s head rather than reply. Just standing here, Bear in his arms, watching his team catalog every gesture, every movement that he made, filled his heart with so much joy.

If he had been asked nearly two years ago what he wanted from his life, he would have shrugged the question off, preferring a non-answer to revealing the heart that yearned for more than he had. Two years ago, his life changed when he was challenged by the woman he would soon call his wife. Two years ago, Jake knew nothing of love. Now though, he knew how bright his life could be. He knew the warmth that love could bring his spirit, and best of all, he knew that he was worth it.

For Bear, clad in Jake’s - her fiance’s - shirt, wrapped in his arms as she stood in front of her friends, it was in such contrast to everything she had known before. Sure, back in Riyadh, she had toyed with the idea of forever. Playing with it, spinning the threads of this blossoming relationship into something more, if only to have as a thought. That ‘something more’ was this. Joy, endless support, someone who understood her, and love. Pure, simple, boundless love that was shared.

And now as Jake shooed their friends away making promises to see them soon, Bear knew that she had found everything she had ever wanted. One random night, at a random time, had changed everything she had hoped for in her life. Tonight, standing in her home with Jake, wearing the ring he had given her when he had asked if she would spend the rest of her life with him, this was it. Her career had filled her life, now she was ready to share that life with someone who understood her pain, her sacrifice.

“I love you,” Jake said softly, freeing her from her reverie. “More than you could ever know.” She looked up, seeing his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Careful Jake. I could get used to this,” Bear teased gently, swiping a tear from his cheek. “You’ll spoil me.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger for just a moment. “A wise woman once told me that I was her everything. Now that I have a future with her in the making, I finally get to make good on my promise to never let her forget how much I love her.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe. She’s about your height, similar build, most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. She’s a firecracker, but cares so deeply for everyone around her. I watched her crawl through hell and still look like she wasn’t done fighting. And by her, I mean you, Teddy.”

“Sap.”

“You know you love me.”

Bear nodded, her smile fond as Jake caught her left hand, pressed a gentle kiss to the knuckles. “I really do.”

“No comment?” Jake asked curiously, a look of brief concern flickering over his face. “Are you okay?”

She glanced up at him, kissing Jake sweetly. “You are the best thing that happened to me. I never saw you coming, Jake, and I am so thankful that you tried and failed to flirt with me that first day.”

Jake’s face softened as he drew her into his arms once again. “So am I, Teddy. So am I. I have never been more thankful that I failed to win you over the first time we met.” His words were barely above a whisper, their pronunciation thick as he fought back tears. “If I’m your everything, then I don’t even know how to explain the depth of my love for you. I gave you my heart in the time it took you to glance at me with even a hint of curiosity and I will do everything in my power to make sure you are the only one keeping it safe for the rest of my life.

“You are it for me, Teddy.”

Sometimes two people are just destined for each other. One usually flies high, so sure of their own skill that they forget that life is waiting for them on the ground. The other stays on the ground, their head down, fighting to break free of the weight they shoulder everyday. The free-flier learns how to anchor themself and the weighed down learns how to fly among the birds, both getting what they always desired in their darkest moments.

There is always uncertainty when the grounded learns to soar, fear of giving their heart away and of falling, yet here, in the moment, there is nothing to fear. How could there be when both swore that the other was their everything? That they would travel to the bitter end of time and back again for one another?

The next step is always scary, but for Bear and Jake, they knew that it was only the start of the next chapter of the rest of their life together. One full of peace, love, and happiness that steadied them through it all.

It wasn’t the end, merely the beginning.

===

A/N: This is it. I can't believe that this was 25 chapters worth of Bear and Jake and I am so thankful to everyone who has read and will continue to read this fic now that it's over. AGAD is my baby and my first ever completed fic, so it will always be special. You cannot possibly know how much your endless support means to me, how much of myself I poured into this series. Bear and Jake’s story is done, for now. I have plans for them in the future and I cannot wait to see you all there!

Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky for being my biggest supporters and always being there for me and this fic. I love you all and I’m sorry for breaking your hearts on more than one occasion. For the last time, thank you for reading!

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @twsssmlmaa @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris @havlindzk @a-beaverhausen @killcomet @buxkybarnez @topgunruinedme @hangmanscoming @smoothdogsgirl @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby

#fern writes #a gun amonst daggers #jake hangman seresin x reader #bear and hangman #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin series #jake hangman x reader #jake x reader

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cerastes · 1 year

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I’m thinking of how, in OpRec 2, Laurentina knows she has very limited time as herself before her brain deteriorates and she loses her reason again and becomes the “Specter” again. She has few precious hours as herself after years of being trapped in her own mind due to the experiments and the insane amount of pure liquid Originium Amaia and Quintus injected directly into her spinal cord.

She uses a bit of this time to spend it fighting a battle alongside Misery (who insisted she doesn’t need to help him but definitely welcomed the aid since apparently the situation was pretty bad), because in fighting, she can remain useful, in her own words. Skadi insists she hurry back to Rhodes Island, to which Specter says it’s pointless, because equipment on the surface simply cannot help her, only keep her alive, so she takes her sweet time fighting alongside Misery, and Skadi and Gladiia (the latter reluctantly) join.

She allots some more of her time to having a proper talk with Closure, answering as many questions as she can, both about herself and about Closure, but mainly, what she wanted to say was “do not change the way I’m treated. You know me as Specter, you have protocols around the Operator Specter. Retain them. I have to go.”

She talks with a very concerned Skadi and an unflinching but still upset Gladiia, but she already had time with them on the way back. The final person she wanted to talk to before her brain gave out again? Doctor. Explicitly because she predicted Closure and Doctor may take more care on her handling, maybe remove her from combat operations in order to more closely monitor her condition. This is exactly what she didn’t want.

Because end of the day, Laurentina is a Hunter. She finds it difficult to speak as surface dwellers do, she finds it almost nonsensical, and so, she demands, “Keep me in the fight, Doctor. We do not need words, we need only you having a clear objective and me, my orders. If you put me in a bed and out of the battlefield, you are denying me the last shred of identity I can cling on”.

Because she couldn’t sculpt, she couldn’t sing, she couldn’t even control her own body, if she was even conscious. The only thing that she could do to cling to being who she was...

...Is to at the very least be pointed towards an enemy to fight them, and pointed towards an ally to protect them.

Skadi believed Laurentina had died prior to the events of the game because this isn’t the first time she had done this: In order for the 3rd Squadron to advance towards Ishar’mla, the 2nd Squadron, Gladiia and Laurentina’s, practically sacrificed themselves covering for the 3rd.

She never blamed Skadi, and makes sure she knows it. She didn’t mind doing it again now, either. “Point me at the one I have to cut, put the ones I need to keep safe behind me, and give the order. Even if am completely lost in the darkness of my mind and madness of my heart, that, that will never leave me. That’s proof that I am Specter, that I am Shark, and that I am Laurentina. I, namely, I.”

As far as she knew, these were the last words she’d ever get out as herself. She used to make it very clear: “Do not deny me the only bit of purpose and identity I have left, because even if I am but a shell of myself, I’m still me.”

Of course, we now know that this was not to be her final fate, and she did manage to regain control, decisively, eventually, but... As far as she and Skadi and Doctor knew, at this point, this was really, really it. The briefest of encounters with the real Specter, on borrowed time. And her intent? To make sure she’s not left to rot in a medical room where she’s useless, gathering dust: “Put even more danger upon my share”. You know you are dealing with a seriously terrifying and strong person when they can confidently tell you (and have verifiably, so far, done as much) that even if it’s just a shell of her former self out there, she can and will never stop doing exactly what she’s good at, because otherwise, at that point, she truly has left the world.

#arknights #specter #shark thoughts this night #3 am gn

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whohasthecards · 8 months

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Top Gun AU Idea -- Jake is Mav's son and grew up in foster care.

Jake only has a beat up picture of his dad and that his name was "Pete". He didn't know his mother at all, not even his birth certificate. He was abandoned and whoever abandoned him made sure that his lineage would never be traced.

He figured out who his father was during his first time in Top Gun.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

He also found out that his father was married to the COMPACFLT.

He didn't need a father anymore, right? And he wouldn't want to break up a family in his desperate attempt to maybe gain one. His father probably didn't know he existed. Hell, his father could even be the one that abandoned him (although why he would leave the picture makes that theory unlikely).

However, he did want to meet the one of the Navy's top pilots. It's all professional curiousity.

(He was in the same profession as his father, aviation is in his blood.)

He will become the best.

Maybe he'd meet Maverick once he's on top.

During his first air combat kill, Iceman was the one to shake his hand. The admiral gave him a clap on his shoulder and congratulated him.

The mission occured.

As a person, Maverick was not who he expected him to be.

As a pilot, Maverick was the best.

He was numb when Maverick and Rooster were shot down.

He never felt more alive and scared when he pushed his jet to save them.

He turned and walked away when he saw Rooster and Maverick hug it out, confirming his suspicions during training.

Rooster was Maverick's son, in every way that matters.

Blood doesn't matter, heck there isn't even a blood test that proves that Jake was his son. Only a battered photo with scripted handwriting.

Jake should let go.

After the mission, Dagger squad becomes a permanent squadron with Maverick as team leader.

Maverick got along with every single Dagger just fine, but there was an awkwardness between Hangman and himself that neither knew how to bridge. Mav never did know how to act around people who was just like himself.

Maverick acts paternal and caring to everybody, especially Bradley, and Jake had to swallow the growing jealousy (I don't need him, I don't need him, I don't need--). Why did everyone get a family and a Mav that would look their way for more than 10 seconds?

Why did Rooster get everything he ever wanted?

What did he do or not do that made him deserve this crippling feeling of jealousy and loneliness?

#fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman angst #angst #word vomit very very word vomitty I kinda want to make it better but I dont have the time so have this word vomit of angst #but yeah in this AU Mav is Jake's dad but he doesnt know and the mother gave Jake up and managed to erase herself from existance #wanna make this angstier but brain not braining and time not timing and wanna post #guys I love hearing your thoughts send them my way

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stars4anakin · 8 months

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The way I loved you —⁠ ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: when arguing with Anakin you confess your feelings

warnings: master/padawan relationship (one-sided), reading situations horribly, arguments, ANGST.

pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

a/n: this is very bad but this concept wouldn't leave my head..

songs i listened to while writing this:

The way I loved you - Taylor Swift

Majorie - Taylor swift

Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Drabble ... MASTERLIST

"How could you have been so reckless!"

You furrowed your brows, drawing your arms closer over your chest, "It wasn't my fault, Anakin!" You shouted, You didn't want to cry, You weren't scared, or sad, just angry. You couldn't help it. You hated that you cried when you were angry, it made you feel weak.

"Really?" He scoffed, stepping closer than he was before, his harsh words cutting through the air like a knife. "Tears?"

"Why are you being so mean!" You pushed against him, trying to get space between you two.

"I'm teaching you a lesso-"

"The only thing you're teaching me is how much of a mistake Master Yoda made. You are selfish! You don't care for me, for your squadron! Only you and the senator!" Maybe if there weren't tears falling down your face, he would've taken you seriously, but he didn't. He only got closer, again, his presence like a dark cloud enveloping you. "Don't act like you know me."

"I saved the Senator. I protected the squadron. How can you blame me?" Your voice cracked with every word, and you pleaded, "I..."

"The Senator shouldn't have been in any danger in the first place!"

This wasn't the Anakin you knew. He had always been calm and composed, treating you as an equal. Now, he acted superior, and you didn't want to argue with him. He was your best friend, your mentor, the person you loved.

"I couldn't sense any danger, Anakin." You said, softly this time, your words carrying a profound sorrow. "I was assigned to protect the Senator, and I feel I've done that. She's okay."

He shook his head, his jaw tightening, and his anger remained strong, scarily strong. "And if she wasn't?"

"What then, Anakin?" You closed your eyes, your voice barely a murmur. You wished he cared for you like this, fighting for your safety. But that was a wish that would never come true. And then, almost involuntarily, you whispered, "I love you, Anakin." It was as if you wanted to end the argument or let the truth out while everything was already in ruins.

After a long pause, his anger wavered, and your eyes finally opened. "An-And you're scaring me. I don't want to fight."

He sighed and rubbed his temples, "I'm sorry, but I need to talk to the Council. I can't continue your training."

"What?" Panic and regret surged within you.

Maybe if you kept your mouth shut, if you protected the Senator like you were assigned to, you would be laughing with Anakin about something, congratulating each other with another win against the separatists. But you didn't. Now you're here, grabbing onto his wrists, his arms, shoulders, trying—begging—him to stop, to think about this, "Anakin, listen to me. Please?"

He turned around, looking down into your eyes.

"I made a mistake. I know, but-but I want to forget this happened, I want to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to you knocking at my door, complaining how I never get up in time--"

"I can't continue your training."

"You're not hearing me!"

"I am," he replied coldly, "but what you said won't go away."

You tried to argue again, but he beat you to it, "I don't love you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," you whispered, the tightness in your throat becoming unbearable.

"You were right. Master Yoda made a mistake making me your master."

You hated the feeling of your throat tightening, the pain it caused, and the way your body told you, you were about to cry. You shook your head, breathing became difficult, your ears rang, and you heard Anakin faintly calling your name. Your vision blurred, and you continued to retreat, pushing away anyone who tried to reach out to you. The crying was loud and echoing. "I wish I had never joined the Order," you sobbed, your voice filled with pain, "I wish..." You fought to finish your sentence, fighting against your own sobs, "I wish I never met you. I hate you."

#꒰ ੭ 𓈒 ⊹ evana writes #anakin skywalker #drabble #star wars #star wars angst #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #angst

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themotherofhorses · 6 months

Text

paloma: first meeting

— simon "ghost" riley x oc!silentdove reyes.

summary: he's not annoyed, per se, but ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the american airman scurrying around the base. at best, he tolerates them.

(or the first exchange between ghost and his montanan woman.)

warnings: none, aside from explicit language.

note: okay, so despite this being an obvious OC-insert series, i invite anyone and everyone to read it :D this is actually my first time tackling an OC-insert fanfic (as well as writing ghost) so im still trying to get the rhythm of things.

dividers by: @saradika

paloma (masterlist) | main masterlist

[2021]

Simon Riley won’t ever admit it — never aloud, anyway — but every time he steps foot on American soil, he feels more akin to a wolf draped in sheep’s clothing.

In his mind, he sticks out like a sore thumb. He is not a hero, really; unlike the lot teetering around the military base he is currently stationed at for the next five or so weeks, he is less flesh and blood, and more a phantom. Or something along those lines. Actually, that could explain why there is such little traffic aimed his way. But he doesn’t particularly care. His schedule lacks the room to voice any complaints.

Right now, his main concern is doing his job, and doing it right.

Two weeks back, Price had him fishing out his passport tucked away inside his bedside table. “Fancy a two month getaway to the States?” Great Falls, Montana, to be exact. High west, nearing the border of Canada, and surrounded by land he’s only ever seen in those silly ass spaghetti western movies.

The view is nice, he’ll admit. Beautiful, even. Exhilarating. He now understands why they refer to Montana as “Big Sky Country.”

Malmstrom is much smaller than he imagined, and homier too. The Air Force base is nestled within the city’s east side, offering its own museum and park. He’s quite grateful for the latter; the trails allow for his nighttime walks when the nightmares prove too shitty to sleep.

Great Falls is pretty as well. Price would like it, maybe Garrick too. He knows the two are big on history, and almost every inch of the city is drenched with some memory belonging to the old frontier days.

Upon arriving, the yanks provided him with his own private office, housed in the back of the 341st logistics readiness squadron. It’s nothin’ fancy, really, just a wee room furnished with a dark mahogany desk, two windows, a steel cabinet, the Montana flag to his left, and the American to his right.

Again, he’s not one to complain. Something’s something.

Earlier, one of the higher-up airmen, a Staff Sergeant Benson (he believes is the name), had handed him a folder jam-packed with a shit ton of mission statements — logistics, strategic planning, reports of previous global concerns, and reviews of the base’s Minuteman III intercontinental ballistic missile. All the documents are dated in a time range varying between two months ago to 0800 this morning.

In the back of his mind, he can already hear Price chuckling.

“Have fun, Simon.”

Bloody bastard.

So now, Ghost sits hunched over the desk, feeling a little too damn big for it. All the paperwork is strewn about messily around him, with sticky notes, a pen, and some other random shit of his. No one has yet to visit him; until that happens, he feels little need to remain organized.

His boot taps against the floor. “—Initial efforts to clean polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) from launch facilities at Malmstrom AFB are ongoing but seeing success…” Ghost reads under his breath. PCBs? That’s nice to hear.

“...after PCBs were detected on surfaces in launch facilities at all three of the command’s missile wings.”

PCBs. Polychlorinated biphenyls — man-made and highly toxic, consisting of carbon, hydrogen, and chlorine atoms. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he flips onto the next page.

“We know they’re present on what appears to be otherwise pristine surfaces, due to the survey—”

—a sudden knock interrupts his reading.

With a curse on his tongue, Ghost sets down the report. He quicks a sneaking glance at his watch. 1342 hours. He’s due in a meeting at 1700.

“Come in.” His voice sounds low and raspy, the two words sounding more like a growl than a greeting. He’s not annoyed, per se, but Ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the American airmen scurrying around the base. At best, he tolerates them.

(In his mind, they’re all little Graves, ready to stir up a headache.)

The door slowly cracks open.

“Lieutenant Riley?” A female voice calls out — soft and cautious; Ghost’s chin drops against his knuckles. “Apologies for the disruption, sir, but I have some additional paperwork I need to drop off with you, at the request of my superior.” He grunts, and the airman then steps into his office, quickly shutting the door behind her before meeting his eyes.

It is entirely unlike him, Ghost knows, but his brain almost short-circuits right then and there. Two dark brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, peering up at him. Shit. He’d always thought brown was such a pretty eye color on a woman, but hers stretched further across common compliments.

Both of ‘em — they held no animosity, no uneasiness or fear, nothing.

That, itself, is quite fucking bizarre. He’s not used to that.

Ghost is .... well, Ghost. He knows the mask he is always donning on his face isn't exactly a sign of welcomeness. Just his mere presence is enough to startle the living shit out of rookies, baby recruits, wide-eyed sergeants, and the like. There is something inherently unnerving when you are unable to get a good reading of the person you're standing across from.

She’s brave, he thinks. Or merely oblivious to who he is.

“Here you go, sir,” the airman says while placing the packet of new documents down on his desk. Her lips are shaped prettily, plump and shining with a fresh layer of gloss, and across her nose is a splatter of faint freckles. Under a different circumstance, maybe he would’ve taken the time to try and count them all.

Ghost swallows hard, incapable (for what feels like the first time in his life) of mustering up an appropriate reply. “Ah, thank you, ma’am.”

The airman's brow lifts.

“Reyes,” she then corrects him with a kind smile, gesturing to the name badge sitting above her right chest pocket. Sure enough, in bold military lettering, reads Reyes. “My name is Senior Airman SilentDove Reyes. I am actually a cryptologic linguist analyst here on base; but sometimes I run errands for others, when not needed for a translation, of course.”

There is a slight chirp in her voice that Ghost picks up, along with the way she casually rocks back and forth on her feet. She seems awfully young, no older than 22, possibly 23, but even that's cutting it; a kid, compared to him. Maybe 5'7, with dark hair pulled back into two tight braids that fall at her belted waistline.

A stark contrast compared to him.

He's oddly curious now — about her age and first name and those long braids and why she stands before him, calm, collected, and sure — but he knows damn well this is not the time nor place for any questions. Both of them are on the clock, and it is likely she’ll need to report back to her supervisor soon.

He offers her a curt nod. “Well, thank you again, Reyes,” he states, keeping his voice flat.

“You are welcome, sir.” She turns to leave, but when her hand latches onto the doorknob, Reyes glances over her shoulder at him, “—oh, and Lieutenant? If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

–

The successful cleaning came after a bioenvironmental team at Malmstrom AFB …. Malmstrom AFB .. consulted with engineers and ….. and medical experts on the cleaning …. cleaning processes and–

–and agents most likely to effectively remove the chemicals….

He knows his mind is wandering off, in desperate search of that pretty senior airman from fifteen minutes ago. “Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost grumbles, leaning back in his chair. His head lolls back as he blinks upward, studying the ceiling overhead. The texture is popcorn, a creamy color, with a simple fan jutting down. One light bulb, probably a recent replacement.

Fuck. He doesn’t need this shit. Not one bit.

Five more weeks and he’ll be gone from here.

Ghost rechecks his watch, feeling a bit peeved at the time. 1411. He has several more hours until he can leave all this work shit behind for the evening, and maybe catch a short walk before hunkering down for the night. He doesn’t like sitting down for too long; it causes him to become restless. Agitated. Overthinking.

He doesn’t want distractions. He doesn’t need ‘em. Distractions ruin work ethic; clouding up the mind while fucking up all sense of responsibility. Price will have his ass if he – somehow – becomes compromised. And he'll never hear the end of it from Johnny.

Settling back into the paperwork, he decides that he won’t allow himself another second thinking about all that – the American airman and her pretty brown eyes and high cheekbones and first name.

Something tells him that’s easier said than done.

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months

Text

The Roost

Hangster AU MeetCute. 2k. (Teen for swearing but more General). Complete. The Dagger Squadron have put Jake in charge of organizing a cake for Mav's 60th birthday and retirement celebration. Little does he know he's just asked Mav's son to make it.

“What…?”

“Fucks sake Jake! Pay attention! You can organize the cake. You can’t fuck that up. Find someone good, ask them to make it and deliver it, and then that’s you done. Think you can manage that Bagman?”

“Yeah yeah, I can manage a fucking cake.”

… … …

He walks into The Roost, a small boutique café and bakery which has nothing but five star ratings and looks around. It’s homey out front, squishy armchairs, low tables and nothing matches. He can see a gleaming commercial kitchen through a small window though and he heads toward the counter. There’s a young woman pressing a key repeatedly on a retro-looking till and he approaches and smiles. She doesn’t smile back, just looks bored and he feels a little unsettled.

“Hi, I was wondering who I could talk to about ordering a cake…?”

“When do you need it?”

Jake names the date and she frowns, looking at an iPad.

“I’m going to have to ask the boss. He’s got that day blocked out. One sec.”

“BRADLEY!”

There’s some clattering out the back and then a guy comes through the door to the kitchen and he’s wearing chef whites, head covered in one of those little hats and he’s looking a little stressed out. He’s kind of hot though, Jake wouldn’t say no to a 3D special (drink, dinner and dick).

“You know, you could walk out the back and tell me someone needs to talk to me, rather than yell…”

“I could. But I won’t. Why change the habit of a lifetime? He wants to order a cake. Same day you have blocked out in three weeks…”

“Sorry about her, family you know…”

“You wish I was… I don’t get paid to be here.”

“Sorry again, our parents are friends. It’s a long story. What are you after?”

“Uh, just something for maybe seventy people? It’s a surprise birthday and retirement celebration thing…”

For some reason that gets a sharp look, narrow eyes and Jake wonders what he said wrong.

“Who is this for?”

“Uh, does it matter?”

“Humor me?”

“Captain Peter Mitchell. He’s my most recent CO.”

“You’re ordering a cake for a surprise birthday party for Captain Mitchell,” Bradley says, and his expression is flat and Jake wonders what the hell his problem is. This is awful fucking customer service, how has this guy gotten nothing but five stars? Given them all blow jobs?

“Did anyone send you here?” The guy asks, like he’s suddenly suspicious about Jake’s cake ordering habits.

“No. I just looked up the place with the best reviews…”

“Huh. Okay. I can make this work. Do you have any idea of what you want?”

“Uh. No. I was just put in charge of organizing the cake.”

“Do you know his favorite flavor?”

“No. I’m not in the habit of canvassing my commanding officers opinions on cake flavors.”

“You’re a naval aviator as well.”

Jake frowns, because the tone of voice is tired, but also isn’t phrased at a question at all, more like a statement and he really wants to know what he did that pissed this guy off. And actually, now that he thinks about it he never mentioned Maverick being a pilot, let alone himself.

“How did you know I was a naval aviator?”

“Lucky guess. And I’ll wing it in terms of flavors and decorations… You can trust me.”

Jake’s not sure he fucking can, and Trace will have his balls in a vice if he fucks this up, but then he’s filling in a form, giving over his credit card details and arranging a pickup time so okay, that seems like the guy actually knows his shit and will come through, despite the paper forms and old-looking till with broken buttons.

… … …

He’s been advised to bring someone to help him with the cake and he’s not sure why he needs help until he sees it, a stunning three-tier in navy and gold, a glittering sixty on the top with gold frosting looking like it’s dripping down the sides of each tier. Carefully placed in delicate looking piles are small piles of chocolates and macarons. It looks amazing and he’s glad he followed through with getting it from here, the reviews were clearly not lying.

“Is that the cake?’ Phoenix asks, looking at it and Jake nods slowly, because there’s no other cakes awaiting pick-up. The cabinet is also almost empty, and there’s a sign up reminding people that the shop is closed for the entire weekend as well as the following Monday and Tuesday. Whatever big event that Bradley had blocked out, which reminds him that he’s probably done Jake a huge favor by adding this cake to his workload.

“I – yeah. I think so. Holy shit…”

He sees Bradley coming out.

“Hi, you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing. Thank you… uh. How much more do I owe you?” Jake asks, because he’d paid a hundred dollar deposit and then stupidly not asked how much more it might be, but it’s got to be a couple more at least.

“I’m glad you like it. And there’s nothing owing.”

“What? That’s… not enough for all this.”

“Call it a friends and family discount,” Bradley says, looking amused.

Phoenix’s eyebrows are up, looking between the two of them and Jake cannot believe the guy just said that.

“I hope you enjoy the party tomorrow.”

“I… thanks.”

“Did you want to come? To the party?”

Jake stares at her incredulously. because she can’t just invite random people to Mav’s birthday and retirement party.

“Thanks, but I already have plans. Some other time though…” he says, catching Jake’s eye and oh, holy shit, that’s an open invitation right there. Okay then.

“Yeah, I know where you work.”

“I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You sure will.”

… … …

Somehow the cake fits in perfectly with all the decorations of the party and he keeps getting complements on his good taste, and he just smiles and nods, because he has no idea how the fuck this worked out so well. There are gold balloons and streamers, the restaurant is outfitted with navy tablecloths and it’s like the cake frosting has been color matched. He’ll have to find a way of thanking Bradley for making him look good, even it was a complete coincidence.

There’s far too much brass here for Jake’s liking, but no one is in uniform, everyone more or less relaxed, and everyone here long before the time when Mav is meant to arrive with his family. A family that Jake’s only recently learnt existed, but maybe a man he’s recently gotten engaged to and a grown son. At least those are the rumors, and they’re rumors because Maverick has refused to answer any questions when asked. They only know about the engagement being real because they’d heard Admiral Simpson begrudgingly congratulate Mav several months ago, not long after they’d returned safely and the Dagger Squadron had been permanently formalized by Admiral Kazansky.

“Okay! Everyone quiet, lights off, they’re two minutes away!”

The room is plunged into almost darkness, the little golden lights on the tables and hanging from the ceiling offering some ambient light. Everyone falls quiet, Admiral Simpson having given quite firm instructions on what was expected and how the whole thing is meant to operate. He can hear voices approaching, one of the waitstaff, and then the light is being flicked on:

“SURPRISE!”

“Fucking hell!”

Laughter around the room at Mav’s shout back, but then there’s laughter coming from Mav as well as he takes in the assembled friends and colleagues, and Jake’s pretty sure some of the people present are purely there to ensure Maverick is actually definitely retiring. What draws his eye though are the men standing beside Mav, because one is Admiral Kazansky, which is a shock, and a little voice in his head yells surprise! Then he looks at the other man, and he’s not in chef whites, instead dressed almost purely in black, is Bradley. Baker of birthday cake Bradley.

Maverick’s son Bradley?

Almost as if he said his name Bradley is meeting his eye and then winking at him and fuck, that’s why he’d known Mav was a naval aviator. Why he’d said he already had plans tonight. Why he probably knew the fucking color scheme… The family and friends discount. He finds himself laughing and Bradley gives him a big grin, bending down to say something into Mav’s ear.

“Is that the guy we picked the cake up from yesterday?” Phoenix asks, appearing suddenly at his side.

“Yep.”

“Huh, no wonder he was asking me all those questions about the colors, I thought he was trying to coordinate himself to the decorations, not the cake.”

Jake laughs again, can see Maverick and Bradley making their way over, the Admiral following in their wake, bemused smile on his face and Jake steels himself for the upcoming conversation, not sure which way it might go. He’d consider Mav a friend, someone he’s grown to respect deeply. Admiral Kazansky is the COMPACFLT although his term is coming to an end, so maybe he won’t have to navigate that particular mental hurdle if… he looks at Bradley and yeah, if he’s going to try dating Mav’s son then yeah, there are going to be some mental hurdles.

“Hangman! My godson Bradley.”

“We’ve met, nice to make the connection.”

“And my ex-boyfriend Tom!”

“You’re not funny,” Admiral Kazansky says, looking resigned.

“It’s because he’s my fiancé now,” Mav says, grinning widely and Jake doesn’t think he’s ever seen him quite this happy, even when they’d survived their mission it had been edged with hysterical relief of not being dead. This is pure joy and he finds he’s genuinely happy for him.

“Yeah, I got it. Congratulations. And happy birthday.”

“So you made the cake?” Mav asks, turning to Bradley and he nods, winks at Jake again. “You just had to put my age on it didn’t you?”

“Mav, it’s like you don’t know me at all…”

“Just be glad he didn’t make you sixty-five or seventy…” Admiral Kazansky says, and he draws Mav away, glancing between Jake and Bradley with a small smile.

“So… Hi again.”

“Yeah. Hi. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I considered turning it down, but then I’d have to have dealt with eating cake made by someone else. And then I realized that this was just kind of funny… Gotta get my kicks where I can. Had to turn down a hot date to be here and everything.”

“You did huh?”

“Yep. And I’ve spent all day decorating another cake for tomorrow. There is going to be so much left-over cake. It’s going to be ridiculous.”

“Cake for breakfast…?” Jake suggests, because he’s just realized he actually has no idea what flavor the cake is, but he knows whatever it is Mav will at least like it.

“Actually… What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh, probably recovering from tonight. Why? Wait. I want to change my answer. I have a hot date.”

Bradley throws his head back and laughs so loud that a few people glance over and look at them, but then he’s wrapping an arm around Jake’s waist and he has no cares in the world.

“I’m holding you to that. You just committed yourself to coming as my plus one to another party tomorrow.”

“Is he seriously having another birthday party tomorrow?”

“Not exactly. But there will be more cake. A lot more cake.”

“Yeah, you mentioned already.”

Then Bradley is leaning in close, his lips brushing Jake’s ear, warm damp air making a shiver travel through his body.

“Let’s just say Ice organized this surprise and Mav got wind of it. They like trying to get one over on each other and tomorrow Mav has organized a marriage celebrant, and he’s going around right now and organizing an after party for the Hard Deck… He’s been planning this for months.”

“Oh shit…”

“Yep. So… want to stay relatively sober with me tonight so we’re not hungover tomorrow and can really party it up tomorrow?”

Jake grins, his head ducking before he meets Bradley’s gaze and nods.

“Yeah. Sounds good. Guess we’re starting that date early huh?”

“We sure are.”

#Hangster #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #top gun maverick #IceMav

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Call Sign: Sharky (Platonic)

Part 1, part 2 part 4 part 5

Sorry if parts repeat like some people noticed. There’s not much I can do about it and it seems to be a glitch with the keep reading line. My posts are long and I don’t wanna clog people’s pages so y’all will have to deal with it

Also thank you all for your support!.

The topic of your Call sign is often ones that’s discussed with confusion with 141

Each time you were asked you’d come up with a new story something like “dad was a marine biologist”, “I was raised by sharks sharkboy style and was taken in by the military” or “I just wouldn’t shut up about them”

It leaves all them confused and silently curious

Call signs most of the time have meaning to them

Now some can certainly be stupid or embarrassing but they get them for a reason and Sharky is a specific one

One that came with you when you had found yourself transferred over to 141

Which had meant that only you and your past squadron knew that meaning

And meant ghost, Soap and Gaz we’re clueless as to getting it except from you

Price is not it the same situation as them, partially because he knew your past captain

In fact he’s good mates with him, they had used to serve together before climbing both their ways up the ranks

Even got your recommendation from him

But when he decided to ask the question of your Codename he didn’t really expect that it had more than what meets the eye

“Your wondering about their Codename?.” He questions looking over to Price whom sits beside him at the bar. Price nods, making his old friend laugh a bit and add “I’ll have to give some context first before we get to that point”.

“Context of what?”

“Oh, of when they first joined”

When you had first joined you were much different to how you were now

You were a shy little thing, less confident to how you were now. Downright afraid of the others on your team

There was a very clear and tall wall you put between yourself and everyone else no matter how they tried to reach through to you

It took a long while but after some time one of them had gotten through to you

Salamander, but everyone at the time called him Sal for short

He was an a older soldier, mid-50’s with a wife and kid

It’s that reason why he was able to connect to you, having experience with a child of his own

He showed you the ropes, helping bridge that gap between you and the others

You began to open up more, talking in hushed mumbled before they evolved to full on discussions

You knew a lot of weird and obscure facts, stuff most of them hadn’t known about

You specifically talked quite a bit about marine life since a few of them were ex-navy and you thought that would be funny

It admittedly was especially when you joke that “you’d think they’d teach you about this stuff when your at sea” and “maybe I’m more navy than you guys”

It was nice, you were opening up and some had even began trying to debate each other over call signs for you

They weren’t really sure what to give you yet but it was the mission that finalized it

“The mission?”

“Yeah…the mission. What gave me their name”

The mission was ok at first, that’s the main thing you remember about it

No initial panic just clear waters both figuratively and literally as your footsteps crunch down on golden yellow sand

But then like a nuke dropping everything went to shit

It’s blurry to your mind what had initially happened but you ended up hiding behind some washed up driftwood

Sal was beside you clutching his neck as you did your best to keep him from bleeding out

The shrapnel lodged in his neck was too deep, blood pouring through your fingers as you pleaded with him to hang on

Your vision was blurred by tears as you watched the life drain from him

He often talked about his wife, his kid, and yet he now laid here beside you. Forgotten in the sand as your hands shook

Something came over you, that primal urge that every living creature had in times of peril

The urge to survive no matter what

Your adrenaline was running high, the pops of gunshots making it worse along with the red that began dying the once yellow sand

Your breath is getting quicker as you begin to see red

And then you can’t remember what happened other than the overwhelming feeling of panic and the urge to protect

When the haze over your mind cleared the pungent taste of iron filled your mouth and clogged your nose

You feel shaky, almost as if your entire body was hollow

taking a step back you almost trip over something, making you stumble a bit as you look down to see the dead face of the enemy staring back

Pure terror is twisted on his once moving face that bows stuck in the perpetual horror he died while feeling

Your attention is drawn away when you hear your captains voice, it cuts through the static that muffled the crashing waves and squawking pelicans that sounded so distant

His hand is on your shoulder, his eyes staring down at you with worry as blood dribbled down from your lips

Your dazed and confused. Eyes wide and pupils blown out

“Captain what happened. Why do I taste blood?” It’s such a simple question but it shakes him to his core, you sound so afraid. Like a kid

You are a kid compared to them but this just makes it more obvious

The remaining part of the squadron both injured and tired watch on as their captain talks to you gently

Your shaking like a leaf, blood drenching you as he draped an arm over your shoulder and walked you towards them

You don’t stare at your teammates though, you instead stare at the once blue water that was turned scarlet red

Off in the distance you see the distinct shape of a fin or two poke out from the water

The crashing of the waves felt louder despite the fact you walked farther and farther away

Rolling in and retracting back out in a cycle

You notice near a body in the sand two fingers, discarded and bloodied and a memory flashes in your mind

The enemy, captain, scuffle, bite, spit out, kill, safe, move on

It now explains the blood that isn’t your own that you spit out

You fill in the blanks about what happened by asking your teammates afterwards who are nervous to answer

Seemingly afraid to send you into a panic attack after learning what had happened

Apparently you went apeshit on the enemy, to the point the team did barely anything as you did the brunt of the work

You used your pistol, when you ran out of ammo you used the empty gun and your knife

At some point one had grabbed the captain, was about to put a bullet through his head before you intervened

The human jaw despite how weak it is compared to the bite of something like a dog or a big cat, it’s much more powerful than we give it credit for

Exerting up to Around 125 kg of force or 162 lbs per square inch

Usually something like this doesn’t happen much considering you’d have to get through skin, tissue and tendon but you had done it via your adrenaline

You bitt off the guy’s fingers, not one but two and then spat them out

You then killed him, his body dropping down to the sand just like his fingers did

It’s what earned you your nickname Sharky

You see

Shark attacks are much less common as one would think compared to how their portrayed in the media. Sure, they do happen but it’s less likely for one to be lethal

Your more likely to be killed by a deer or mosquito than a shark

They usually attack when provoked or when confused after mistaking a human for a seal

They dislike our flavour, so after an attack they usually discard us after the initial bite

Much like how rare a lethal shark attack actually is in comparison to other animal related deaths it’s rare that someone can bite off someone’s finger

And like a shark you spat it out

Thus your clever nickname given to you by your teammate Kansas after remembering your ramblings of the aquatic sea creature

“It just kinda stuck after that” he says taking a sip of his beer before placing it down onto the countertop, his thumb circles it’s rim as he looks down into the gold liquid. “Their a good kid. Their happy right?” It comes out as somewhat hoarse, he’s more choked up than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, their happy. Hasn’t been a day I hadn’t woken up to find them with a shit eatin grin”

“Good. Funny how they’ve brightened up from such a shy kid.”

He pulls back from his chair, placing down his cash plus a small tip for the bartender who accepts it eagerly

“Good to see you again Price. I’ll keep in contact” just as he’s about to leave he adds one more thing “ps, they write about you a lot”

“Write?”

#platonic #Sharky y/n #captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Ice Cold, No Mistakes - T. Kazansky

pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x Female!Reader warnings: death, grief, sadness, angst, TOPGUN shit word count: 1.6k Iceman Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Ice, why are you so cold?”

It was the age old question that everyone dared to ask. What made Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky so cold? People over the years had speculated what caused him to be so closed off and fly with the precision that he did.

Some suggested it was daddy issues. His old man must’ve been a hardass and instilled that Ice could only be the best. That his dad was mentally abusive, calling Ice names when he was anything less than perfect or had too much feeling. Some even suggested that Ice’s dad was living vicariously through him, which made him work even harder because letting him down would be the last thing that Ice would want.

The other rumor was that it was his mom. That his mom was some sort of leech, maybe a drunk or a druggie that constantly needed money. That he grew up poor because his mother was spending every dime on vodka and coke. So Ice worked hard to get himself through the academy, and into flight school and then ultimately into TopGun. And with all the money that Ice was making, he sent some of it back home to pay his mother’s bills and keep a roof over her head, and to help her survive on her addiction problems.

But both the family rumors turned out to be just that. . . rumors. Goose had met Iceman’s parents at their graduation, and it promptly shut down those bad/toxic parenting stories. Ice’s parents were nothing like him, they were warm, caring individuals from a small town on the east coast. His mother was a school teacher and his father a banker. Some of the questions on Ice’s cold personality were answered, but not all of them.

So what made Tom Kazansky so cold?

Well, that could be answered with a simple explanation: it was her.

No one had asked questions about the picture of the girl in his locker. It wasn’t uncommon for the pilots to stick pictures of their families inside their lockers. It was a reminder of their loved ones and who they had waiting on them at home. No asked. . . until one day Maverick did.

“So, who’s the girl, Kazansky?” Maverick asked, shucking off of his flight suit. Slider froze next to his pilot, waiting for Ice to come off his rocker. The last time someone asked about the photo, Ice had ripped them a new one, and everyone in their last squadron knew not to ask about the girl in the picture.

Iceman’s blue eyes looked over at the polaroid that was taped to the door. Her bright smile always made him feel warm, and the little girl next to her eyes were bright and filled with love. Iceman clenched his jaw and shut his locker slowly.

“No one.” Ice mumbled and walked out of the locker room.

“Ice, I’m-”

“Do yourself a favor, Mitchell,” Slider said, “Don’t ask about the girl in the picture.”

Maverick nodded and watched as Slider went after his pilot. Maverick knew that his curiosity should end right then and there. That he shouldn’t pry into the life of his competition, but he couldn’t just let it be. If this was a chance to get a one up on Iceman, then he was going to take it. He knew that there was one person, besides Slider, that new Iceman well enough to possibly know about the girl in the picture.

“No, I’m not telling you,” Goose said, ignoring his pilot.

“You need to, it’s life or death.”

Goose gave Maverick a look.

“Okay, not life or death but still.”

Goose sighed and leaned back in his chair, “No one talks about the girl in the picture. It’s just. . . it’s just never talked about. All you need to know is that he takes that picture everywhere. He had it back at the academy, he had it in flight school, hell I think if his house caught on fire the one thing he’d rush into save, is that picture.”

Maverick nodded, the gears turning in his head. He looked up at his RIO and gave him a smirk, “Thank you, Goose.”

“Hey, I don’t like that look, Mav!” Goose pointed, sitting up straight, “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Maverick said, but Goose knew better than to trust him.

And Goose should’ve stopped him, but he didn’t think that his pilot would go as far as breaking into Ice’s locker and taking the picture until the next day when Ice stormed into the classroom, anger and fury in his eyes.

“Where the fuck is Mitchell?” Ice yelled and Maverick slowly turned around, a smirk on his face which was quickly wiped off by Ice’s fist to his jaw.

“What the fuck!”

“Where’s my fucking picture!?” Ice yelled, grabbing Maverick by the collar and slamming him up against the wall. Other pilots quickly scrambled to try and break up the fight waiting to happen.

“Kazansky!” Jester yelled.

“I know you fucking have it,” Ice seethed, “Give it back.”

“Why Kazansky? What’s got you so fucking tense about a goddamn picture?” Maverick jeered, hoping to get a rise out of him. They both knew that if a fight broke out, they would be kicked out of the program.

“Kazansky,” Jester said again, taking a step closer. Ice’s jaw was clenched so tightly, it was a miracle he wasn’t breaking teeth.

Ice looked down for a moment, weighing his options, before letting go of Maverick’s tan button up, and walking away. Slider glared at Maverick, before chasing after his pilot. And the look in Goose’s eyes was one Maverick had never seen before, the look of pure disappointment.

“I’m not sure what happened,” Jester said, “But return Kazansky’s belongings as soon as possible or you’ll both be tossed out.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Maverick didn’t want to run the risk and get kicked out of the program he dreamed of going to. So later that night, he swallowed his pride and walked towards Iceman’s room, the picture in his hand. Maverick sighed as he knocked on the door. He jumped back a bit when it was ripped open, a half naked Tom Kazansky standing in front of him in just his boxers. Ice’s hair was a mess, his blue eyes red and so was his nose. This wasn’t like him at all.

“I brought-” Maverick held up the picture, and Iceman quickly ripped it out of his hands.

“Don’t ever touch my stuff again,” Iceman seethed, “Or the next time, I won’t stop because Jester says so.”

Maverick nodded and Ice turned to shut the door, but he held his hand out stopping him. Ice sighed and faced him.

“What, Mitchell,” Ice demanded.

“Why is that picture so important to you that you’d throw everything away?” Maverick asked.

Ice let out a sigh as he looked down at the picture in his hand. Neither one of them would want him acting like this, so eager to throw in the towel just to be with them.

“Y/N, She was my wingman,” Ice said, his voice filled with sadness, “She was my wingman before I was even a pilot. She was going to fly with me, be my backseater. She was determined to be the first woman in the program, and I think she would’ve done it.”

“And the little girl?”

Ice looked up at Maverick, tears rolling down his cheeks, “My daughter.” He looked back down at the picture and sniffed, “We had her in high school. Everyone said it was a mistake, but she wasn’t. . . she was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“What happened?” Maverick’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Graduation weekend,” Ice answered, “We had been at a small party my family was hosting. It just happened to be Lydia’s second birthday. God, she was so excited to be two,” Ice smiled at the brief memory of how happy he had been that whole weekend. Not only had Y/N and Ice both graduated high school and were taking steps to start the next chapter in their lives, and Ice got to celebrate yet another year of being a father. Sure he was young, but to him that didn’t mean anything. Lydia was perfect, she had been the best baby ever, but she was becoming the best toddler ever, hitting every single milestone and then some. She was so smart, something that she had gotten from her mother, and sassy, something she had gotten from her father.

“It happened so quick,” Ice’s voice cracked, “One minute, we were on top of the world, singing along to that damn Queen song and then. . . the car came out of nowhere.”

Maverick watched as the cold, tough exterior of his enemy came crashing down. The picture fluttered out of Ice’s hand as he covered his face and cried. Sobs racked his body, and Maverick bent down to pick up the picture, gingerly handing it back to Ice.

“He took them both,” Ice whispered, and wiped his face on his arm, “Y/N was killed instantly, he hit on her side. Lydia. . . she fought hard for three days, but her little body couldn’t handle the injuries. I buried them both on the same day.”

“Ice, I am so-”

“I fly the way I do because I can’t afford to make mistakes,” Ice said, and turned to face Maverick, “Because that’s what he did. He made the mistake of getting in his car that night and it cost me everything. I refuse to be the reason why someone has to bury the people that they love. I refuse to make mistakes because it kills people.”

Maverick nodded, now understanding a whole new side of Tom “Iceman” Kazansky.

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Tom,” Maverick said, and took a step back.

“Thank you, Pete,” Ice responded, and closed the door. He leaned his back against the door and slowly slid down to the ground, clutching the picture to his chest.

note: I'm back bitches

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spideystevie · 1 year

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the way i spent 10 minutes ruminating on what to send u from the prompts list 💀😭 but #2 with hangman if you’re up for it <3 its giving childhood bffs to lovers gawd i need him i fear

lovin’ u! 🫶

bee!!!! i am so up for it! love some good childhood friends to lovers. i need him so badly too, i fear. lovin’ you, i hope you enjoy <3 (0.9k)

2. interlocking pinkies

It was a habit neither of you had broken from the time you were seven. You couldn’t remember when it had stuck but Jake did. Any memory that related to you in any sense of the word was crystal clear and golden in his mind.

You were in the first grade, the end of the school year coming to a close and summer vacation on the horizon. He’d made you pinky swear to be friends forever beneath the shade of an oak tree near the playground at recess.

You hadn’t hesitated, your tiny pinkies interlocking in something you treated like an unbreakable vow. He didn’t let your pinky go after that. Literally. He held it tightly with his all the way back to your classroom.

Even now, well into adulthood, he was finding excuses to keep your pinky linked with his. Maybe it was a little silly and slightly juvenile all these years later but that didn’t seem to matter. The two of you were drawn together like magnets, your pinkies acting as the north and south ends.

As you grew up, it only seemed to become slightly more intimate. A gentle reassurance. A simple grounding chain of comfort. And as your feelings grew, blossoming like peonies in spring, you often wondered what it’d be like to link all your fingers together.

You wondered how he’d react to you hooking your ring finger through his, followed by your middle and so on until your fingers were a tangled knot between your bodies. It always made a nervous tick jolt your stomach, a lurch like you get at the drop on a rollercoaster.

You arrive late to the Hard Deck, the celebratory party for the completed mission in full swing when you get there. There’s no need to search for Jake because you hear the shouting before you see him.

“No way you can hit it three in a row,” the sound of Rooster’s voice gets louder the closer you get to the dart board.

“With my eyes closed, Bradshaw,” you can hear the stupid smirk in Jake’s voice.

“Prove it.”

You tsk to yourself, rounding the corner and pushing yourself into the small crowd formed around the game of darts that’s really just your best friend showing off. Sure enough, there’s that signature smirk on his face as he tilts his head and shrugs. Coyote stands next to him and puts his hand over Jake’s eyes as he sets up to throw.

Each dart hits the bullseye, three quick thumps into the board. Coyote moves his hand and Jake grins, turning to Rooster with a look reminiscent of “I told you so.” You shake your head with a smile, still impressed all these years later.

“You’ll catch flies if you stay like that, Rooster,” Jake teases, moving to walk past him and back towards the bar. He spots you before he gets very far, his face visibly softening and glowing like the sun. He calls your name and when you’re in close enough range, he hooks his pinky with yours to pull you the rest of the way to him.

There’s a quick press of his lips to your temple that has you wanting to melt down into a puddle on the sticky bar floor. You’re not sure Penny would appreciate another mess to clean though.

“Was wondering when you’d get here,” he says, starting to walk in the direction of the bar, pulling you along with him. “Let’s get you a drink.”

You don’t argue, content with letting him lead you around by your conjoined pinkies. The two of you end up settled at a table with most of the squadron, your pinkies still interlocked and hidden from prying eyes beneath the table. You’re listening to Payback recount a story from the carrier ship that has most of the guys laughing.

As you smile along, the nagging thought of interlocking the rest of your fingers until your hands are palm to palm returns. Nearly all of your focus is directed towards pushing the thought away, so much so that you hardly register Jake’s pinky shifting against yours.

Slowly but surely, he’s begun to maneuver each of his fingers through yours. There’s a scrape of a callus against your hand that makes you blink out of your stupor. You glance down beneath the table, as subtle as you can, to see your hands completely tangled together and sitting on his thigh.

Something warm and almost unfamiliar bubbles up in your stomach and to your chest. You have to bite your lip to hold back a grin because he’s holding your hand and it feels different, special..right. He squeezes your hands once, quick and fleeting and you look up at him.

There’s a sparkle in your eyes and he leans his head towards yours. You can feel his breath against your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it when he speaks.

“This okay?” he whispers and you wonder if he’s aware that his thumb has started to stroke against your skin. You choke on a hum, nodding once.

“More than okay,” you whisper back. You’re nearly nose to nose, so close you can count the amount of divots that form from the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles. After a beat you blink and lean back, trying to ignore the glaringly obvious looks you’re getting from a few of his new friends around the table.

#gotta be honest i am not too sure abt this one #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin fluff #hangman fluff #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake seresin blurb #hangman blurb #📝: a writes!

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ryleigh130 · 4 months

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Hi!! OMG I LOVE your writing sm- it's so cute and your such a good writer 😭❤️

But..if you want to- I have a request

Do you think you could write some angst like Platonic!141 x reader who goes MIA for weeks-( they suddenly go radio silent on the comms and when they check their last known area they find the mic and dog tags, maybe?) And then one of the 141 members just taking a stroll around base runs into the passed out bloody and bruised body of c/n. They just crawled their way back to them lol?(GOD THIS IS SO CRINGY BUT I NEED SOME HURT/COMFORT PLATONIC FICS)

Lost but Found - - ryleigh130

Characters- cap. price, gaz, soap, and ghost Word Count: 1.7k Relationships- platonic!141 & gn! reader Warnings- profanity, gore, death, 3rd person pov, usage of c/n [code name/call sign], usage of y/n [your name], usage of l/n [last name] Note- Thank you so much for the request! I was a little unsure on how/where to take this but I hope you like it nonetheless! <33

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

The air was thick with tension as the Task Force 141 prepared for their next mission. [c/n] stood among their comrades, checking their gear one last time before the briefing began. Captain Price stood at the front of the room, his gravelly voice commanding the attention of everyone present.

"We've received intel on a high-value target in the heart of enemy territory. [c/n], you'll be leading the extraction team. It's a routine mission, but stay sharp. We can't afford any mistakes."

[c/n] nodded, their heart pounding with anticipation. They were confident in their abilities, but there was always a lingering sense of uncertainty before heading into the unknown.

The mission started smoothly enough. [c/n]'s team moved through the shadows, swiftly eliminating any threats in their path with relative ease. But as they approached the target's location, things took a turn for the worse.

[c/n] led their team to the south side of the territory as instructed, but before they could settle and prepare for extraction, a squadron of what had to be 50 enemy soldiers rained down on [c/n] and their team.

“It’s an ambush! Everyone take cover! Pick them off the best you can, do NOT let the target get away!” [c/n]’s voice rings through the heavy firing of guns causing the team to fall back and go on defense.

The sudden ambush was a shock to the system, catching [c/n] and the rest of the team off guard. The air crackled with tension as enemy forces swarmed in from all directions, their weapons trained on the small team. [c/n]'s heart raced as adrenaline surged through their veins, their training kicking in as they fought for survival.

Bullets flew, filling the air with deadly intent. [c/n] moved with practiced precision, taking down enemy after enemy, but it was a losing battle. The enemy seemed to have the advantage, their numbers overwhelming the task force's defenses.

Amidst the chaos, [c/n] found themselves separated from the rest of the team. Panic threatened to consume them as they realized the gravity of the situation. Surrounded on all sides, with no backup in sight, [c/n] fought with everything they had, desperation lending strength to their limbs.

But it wasn't enough.

A hail of gunfire echoed in the narrow confines of the battlefield, each shot a reminder of the precariousness of their situation. [c/n]'s movements became more frantic as they dodged incoming fire, their senses heightened in the face of imminent danger.

The last thing [c/n] remembered was the deafening sound of gunfire ringing in their ears, the smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air. Then, darkness descended like a suffocating blanket, enveloping them in its embrace.

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

"[c/n], come in! [c/n], do you copy?" Soap's voice crackled over the comms, the urgency and worry palpable in every word. After not hearing [c/n]’s affirmation of arriving at the extraction point, the members of the 141 quickly grew worried. Their worry only amplified when their check ups elicit no response from the young soldier. The silence was like an empty void echoing back at them; a mocking reminder of their dire situation.

Panic clawed at Ghost's chest the longer the silence continued, a suffocating grip that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to call out once again, desperation lacing his words. "[c/n], this is Ghost. Respond, damn it!"

But still, there was nothing. The silence stretched on, an agonizing eternity filled with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. The 141's mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through their heads like shards of shattered glass.

Had [c/n] been captured? Injured? Lost in the chaos of battle? Gaz clenched his fists, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire.

"Come on, [y/n]," Gaz muttered under his breath, a fervent prayer to the gods of war. "Don't you dare leave us hanging like this."

But the silence remained, unyielding and absolute. And in that moment, they knew with a sinking heart that their comrade was in grave danger.

“We need to go and find them!” Soap voiced, his tone shaky with clear worry.

“We can’t and you know it Soap, I’m sorry but the mission always comes first. We can’t ignore that, even for the kid.” Price’s strong voice sounds as he authoritatively commands his men. Although they didn’t like it, they all knew he was right and they couldn’t go and find [c/n], at least not until after they successfully completed the mission.

With a new purpose, the team fought with more determination and vigor than ever before. They successfully extracted the target with relative ease, but they still haven't heard from [c/n] or their team which worried them beyond belief. Once they safely situated the target, the 141, consisting of Captain Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, raced towards [c/n]’s last known location.

What they saw shocked them.

Blood covered every inch of the location the team was sent to. Both enemy and allies alike laid dead, bodies still warm, bleeding out. The team split up, quickly scouring the bodies laid before them. They spent what felt like hours looking through the gruesome scene to find their lost teammate but no luck, until suddenly Gaz speaks up,

“Uh guys?” The three whip their heads around to face the young sergeant whose voice shakes with despair. In his hands he holds the dirty, tarnished tags of [y/n] “[c/n]” [l/n].

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

Weeks passed with no sign of [c/n]. The 141 was forced to leave the site, even though they longed to search for any other signs of you. The base was consumed by a somber atmosphere as worry gnawed at the hearts of their comrades. Captain Price refused to give up hope, organizing search missions and interrogating captured enemies for any leads.

Soap paced back and forth in the barracks, his mind filled with thoughts of his missing friend. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. If only he had been there, maybe things would have turned out differently.

A step of heavy footsteps approach Soap and a large, gentle hand finds its place on his shoulder. Turning around, Soap meets Ghost’s tired gaze,

“You’re exhausted Johnny, get some rest. You’re doing them no good by running yourself dry like this.” Soap stubbornly shakes his head,

“"Ye dinnae understand, if ah wis jist there, ah could've…" Ghost holds up his hand effectively shutting Soap up.

“Stop. This is not your fault, there is no way we could’ve predicted this would happen. I miss the kid too, it’s not the same without them but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. We will find them, but we have to keep it together too. For [c/n]” Ghost’s eyes crinkle slightly from under the mask, indicating a smile. Soap smiles back and nods determinedly,

“For [c/n]” The two head off towards the meeting room where the entirety of the base is currently situated in order to find [c/n].

A sense of urgency filled the room as the Task Force mobilized, determined to bring their missing comrade home. Every moment felt like an eternity as they scoured the countryside, following any lead that might lead them to [c/n]

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of [c/n]. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate them all.

But then, just when they were on the brink of losing hope, a miracle occurred.

It was a crisp morning when Gaz decided to take a walk to clear his head. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the landscape. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

His instincts kicked into overdrive as he scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. And then he saw it—a figure stumbling through the trees, bloodied and bruised, but unmistakably alive.

"[y/n]!" Gaz shouted, racing towards them with tears of relief streaming down his face. "What the fuck!"

[c/n] collapsed into Gaz' arms, their body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Gaz held them close, whispering words of comfort as tears of joy mingled with the blood and dirt on their cheeks.

"We thought we lost you," Gaz choked out, his voice thick with emotion. He quickly helped [c/n] get onto theri unsteady feet and led them back towards base.

[c/n] looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Please, you guys have no confidence in me."

As the two of you approached the base soldiers filed out of the barracks to see both [c/n] and Gaz stumble into the small clearing. A sudden shout draws their attention and before they know it, Soap is practically tackling the pair to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

“Laddie, ye're back! Whit the hell happened tae ye?” Before [c/n] could answer, two more pairs of arms joined the hug. [c/n] looks up to see the large figures of Price and Ghost embracing them in shock.

“Funny story actually. I was the last one in the team standing and there were still too many enemies for me to overpower so, I crawled into some kind of animal den. I didn’t come out until I was sure everyone was gone. My radio broke so I couldn't contact you guys, m’sorry.” [c/n] finished their sentence sadly, bowing their head and staring at their feet. A gentle hand lifted [c/n]’s face to meet their eyes. Price stared back with a soft look on his face,

“Kiddo, we’re just glad you’re ok. We’re so, so, so sorry we couldn’t find you.” [c/n] smiled softly, their eyes shown with exhaustion but pride as they embrace the men they consider family,

“It’s okay. I know you guys tried.” The others nodded vigorously causing [c/n] to let out a soft chuckle.

In that moment, as the sun rose higher in the sky, casting its warm embrace over them, they knew that everything would be okay. For they had faced the darkness together and emerged stronger than ever before.

#cod mw2 #fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #angst

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