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callsignthirsty · 4 months

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Stuck at the Navy Ball

So… I decided I wasn’t done playin’ with the boys.

As this is a continuation of the original Stuck in the Middle fic, I highly recommend that you read through that before diving into this. Could you dive headfirst into this? Yes. There might be a little confusion, though.

Inspired by a comment someone left on SitM over on AO3.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: You, Ice, and Sli haven’t lost that loving feeling. So when the flyboys are reunited at the 1986 Navy Ball, it's only natural that they bring a bit of chaos with them. Word Count: 4200 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, under-negotiated situations (but everyone involved is fine), fingering Chapter: 1/4 Minors DNI

gif originally posted by neuromancer1888

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The invitation arrives early in September, printed on thick cardstock and addressed to your brother. But if Viper’s words are to be believed—and you’ve yet to hear of a situation in which they aren’t—Pete’s attendance isn’t exactly optional. So the summons finds its way from the trash onto the fridge, rough edges taped back together.

Please Join Us For the 211th Navy Ball. Monday, October 13th Washington D.C.

Cocktail Hour 1700 | Ceremony Begins 1800 Live Music. Food. Dancing.

The same invitation has Carole positively giddy. Born and raised in Virginia, she’s been looking for an excuse to fly east to visit her parents. And for a party? Isn’t that swell! Arrangements are made for Bradley to sleep at his grandparents on the night of the ball before Goose—whose PT-mandated wheelchair has landed him desk duty—is home from work.

Which is how, roughly one month later, you find yourself in Goose’s room at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, sharing precious mirror space with Carole. Breathing in Aqua Net while putting the finishing touches on your looks.

The hotel calls the four of you a taxi, Goose’s wheelchair is stuffed into the trunk, and then you’re off to meet your date.

Singular.

There hadn’t been a question of if you’d attend or whose arm you’d decorate once Pete’s invite arrived. Officially, you’re at the ball with Ice. After Layton, Ice had made it a point to be seen with you while he was off-duty. Your relationship, which you’d tried to keep on the down-low, was worth showing off publicly after he and your brother had dropped their rivalry in favor of mutual respect. Friendship.

But the other half of your relationship was still very much under wraps.

That fact hadn’t stopped you from nodding eagerly when Ice pulled you close to ask you to attend the Navy Ball with him. Ice wants to climb the ladder, and earning stars is more than clambering into the cockpit every morning or disappearing on a carrier for the better part of a year at a time. It’s politics. It’s achieving perceived milestones on or ahead of schedule. And in October, for Lieutenant Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, naval aviator and promotion hopeful, it’s attending the Navy Ball with a woman on his arm.

Pete wrestles the wheelchair out of the trunk while Goose pays the cab driver. As you step into the crisp October evening, you marvel at the palatial, white-stone building that is to be the backdrop of your night. A steady flow of servicemen and women crossing beneath grand archways with their dates for the promise of a good night.

You aren’t left alone to gawk for long before you catch sight of them chatting with someone or another: decked in their whites, Slider leaning against the wrought iron rail and Ice to his side. Ice’s gaze flicks to you instantaneously, as if he’d felt your eyes land on him. The natural pout of his lips morphs into a grin as he excuses himself from the conversation and moves toward you against the flow of the crowd. Slider follows close behind, ultimately making his way to Goose, Carole, and your brother. But you catch the hesitation in his step. The course-correct.

Events like these will be challenging for the three of you—that had been a foregone conclusion—but this knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. It feels all sorts of wrong to have Slider keep himself at such a purposeful distance when you’re used to his proximity. Even at the O Club, he manages to stand close. Doesn’t shy away.

Before your mood can be irreparably embittered, Ice takes your hand in his and coaxes you into a slow spin. “You’re beautiful,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, and a delicate smile lights your lips.

The dress had been a surprise. Something you’d insisted on buying yourself despite Ice and Slider offering to pool their money for something truly extravagant. But after years spent in the foster system, even the thought of spending money on something so frivolous left a bad taste in your mouth. Instead, you’d taken Carole, your more comfortable budget, and found an old gala dress at a thrift shop. The sleek, black velvet gown up to your collarbones with the slightest sparkle as the fabric shifted beneath the store’s old lights ticked all your self-imposed boxes. A dress fit for an aspirational young officer’s date, even after Carole added a slit up the left side to show a little leg and “bring the dress into this decade.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, squeezing Ice’s arm as it’s offered to you. Typically, the change of season calls for blues, but the Navy Ball is an exception to the rule. You wonder whose wife you have to thank for that because although your boys look damn fine in both, you have a not-so-hidden preference. “And Kerner didn’t clean up so bad, either,” you shoot in Slider’s direction with a playful grin.

“Surprised?” Slider asks, brow raised. You shrug because, no, you’re not surprised, but you aren’t sure what to say that will fly under the radar. And that’s the name of the night’s game. That doesn’t stop Pete from rolling his eyes as he passes you with Goose and Carole on their way to the building’s ramp.

The closest you ever got to a ball before tonight was prom—not yours; you’d been on staff at the venue. Frankly, you’d half expected you and Pete to have been blacklisted, given your father’s ill-gotten reputation, but they let you in without issue. You wonder if Pete’s face appearing on the front page of every magazine in the English-speaking world has anything to do with it, but you keep that to yourself while Ice, ever the gentleman, escorts you further into the event.

If the outside of the building is beautiful, then the inside is magnificent: all barrel vaulted ceilings decorated with Romanesque gold leafing and warm mahogany. A vast hall that steadily fills as guests arrive for cocktail hour and to mingle before the evening officially kicks off.

Slider spots Carole’s shock of blonde hair by a table with easy access for Goose and herds Ice in her direction. They aren’t alone at the table. “Merlin,” Slider barks, bounding over to shake his fellow RIO’s hand. “I thought you were stationed over the Atlantic. What’re you doing here?”

“Turned out to be an exercise. Over and back in sixty-two days.”

“And just in time for the party,” the woman at his side chips in, and Merlin wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“Oh! Tom Kazansky, Ron Kerner, my wife, Laura.” Ice takes the opportunity to introduce you in turn. The conversation is easy-going, Ice and Slider filling Merlin in on their time instructing at Miramar.

Slider gets in several quips about Ice having a list of officers whose asses he needs to kiss to speed up a promotion when Ice spies one of said officers. He gently tugs you in the right direction so you can play the part of the doting girlfriend. The officer—a captain—quickly introduces you to his wife before he and Ice talk shop.

You manage to pluck a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, sipping daintily and nodding along with the captain’s wife. Considering most of your knowledge concerning the Navy revolves around the planes your brother flies and the stunts he’s pulled in them, the conversation goes in one ear and out the other.

Not that it matters. Your role tonight—thankfully—is just to follow Ice around and look pretty.

The captain’s wife finishes her champagne in record time, and though you’re hesitant at first, you aren’t too far behind her. It is at this point, glass empty, that Slider appears like your guardian angel. “Captain,” he nods. “Ice.”

“Captain Reid, have you met my RIO?” Ice asks, knowing full well that Slider has no interest in schmoozing. Much like your brother, Slider is there because it is expected of him. Unlike Pete, Ice doesn’t need his friend’s emotional support or commiseration to make it through such events, mandatory or otherwise. Every opportunity like this is one Ice can use to his advantage.

Slider offers the captain a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Ron Kerner, sir.”

“Your RIO? I thought you were stationed at Miramar?”

“The perks of winning the trophy, sir,” pride leaks through as Slider says it. He and Ice worked damn hard to finish at the top of their class. “We’ve been together since flight school. When Ice took a teaching position at TOPGUN, I followed.”

“And how does a man of your stature fit in the cockpit, lieutenant?” the captain’s wife asks from beneath heavily painted lashes.

The grin Slider offers her is loose. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but no complaints so far.” The minute narrowing of Ice’s eyes says behave. You nearly avoid snorting, hiding the unladylike compulsion behind the rim of your empty flute, a reflection off the crystal drawing Slider’s eye.

“Actually,” Slider says, hand twitching as if he’s had to stop himself from resting it against your back, “I noticed your glass is empty.” Sli nods toward the bar, an invitation to refill your glass. You look up at him with a grin—a genuine one, not the soft smile that’s grown stale throughout Ice’s conversation—acceptance on your lips when–

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ice’s brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time that you’ve finished your drink.

”I didn’t want to interrupt,” is your bashful answer.

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ice says. “I’ll come with you.”

”You don’t have to leave.” Slider will take care of me, you don’t say.

Ice picks up on the silent part but blatantly ignores it. His eyes take on that warm, charmed look, tongue peeking out before his lips curl into that honeyed smile you love so much. “You’re too good for me,” he says as if it’s a secret meant only for you. There’s no doubt he means it, but something about the way he’s playing the sentiment up for the brass makes it feel different in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with. No mistakes. “If you’ll excuse us, sir. Ma’am.”

Captain Reid is already turning to walk the room with his wife when Ice’s eyes narrow into what can only be described as a glare at Slider, his arm cementing itself around your waist in a way that probably looks far more relaxed than it feels.

”What?” Slider asks, shooting for casual, but now you’re not sure you’re buying it, either. “I’m just trying to do my part so you can talk to everyone on your list.” The subconscious flex of Ice’s jaw, as if he wishes he could chew out his frustration on the butt of a cig or some gum, doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does go unheeded. “Admiral Benjamin is on your list, right?” You perk up. As in Penny Benjamin? “I think I saw him by the corner with wife number three and Commander Johnson.”

“You know,” Ice says, his grin glacial, “it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you rubbed elbows at an event like this.”

Slider scoffs, though it’s affectionate. “Why bother? We both know my military career ends when you take a desk job. Besides, I think my time is much better spent keeping your date’s cup full.” You’ve all agreed to go to the bar, but no one is moving. The tension between Ice and Slider is palpable.

”Okay,” you interrupt. There’s something off about their banter tonight. You’ve seen Ice stare down many a handful of people since landing in Miramar, but never Slider. It’s enough to raise a sculpted brow. “What am I missing?”

Slider senses blood in the water. Sees the smoke in the air. The grin he gives you is far tighter than the one he gave the captain’s wife. He opens his mouth, but Ice beats him to the punch. “You said something about grabbing my date a drink.”

Slider’s jaw clicks shut, but his grin isn’t so easily wiped away. “More champagne?” When you nod, Slider picks his way toward the bar while Ice escorts you to the side of the room where there’s more room to breathe and a lesser likelihood that someone will overhear when he presses close. “Sli’s upset that you’re with me tonight.”

That’s it? You hadn’t thought the arrangement would bother Slider so much. The three of you had discussed it and mutually concluded that you should go with Ice. That you had to go with Ice. Was Slider having second thoughts?

“Well, not upset,” Ice concedes at the concern that drags your lips down. “But he was talking a big game.”

Color you curious. “What’d he say?”

“Well,” Ice pulls you closer so his breath tickles your ear and you can smell the mint on his breath, “he thinks he can get you off before we leave the building. Steal you away while you’re being my pretty little girlfriend for the brass.” You gulp. Where is Slider with that drink?

”Oh.”

Ice chuckles. “Yeah. Oh. But I’m not worried.” Two fingers find their way under your chin and lift until your eyes meet Ice’s. “I know you’ll be good for me.”

“What’s the winner get?”

”Bragging rights.”

”And?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Ice’s eyes flit to your lips and linger there because he can. Those are the perks of being your date out in the light of day. “Can’t that be it?”

“Could be,” you breathe and slowly wet your bottom lip with your tongue, delighting in the way gray-blue eyes track the movement, “but it isn’t.”

Ice double-checks that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. “You remember what got delivered the other day?” Your breath hitches. Yeah. You remember the catalog order you’d put in for a remote-controlled toy. The excitement and disappointment that had come with unfortunate delivery schedules. “Single-night, exclusive access once we’re all home.”

”That’s quite a lot on the line.”

”It would be,” Ice concedes, one large hand spanning the small of your back, warming you and holding you close enough you can breathe in his cologne, “but you can be good for me, right, baby? I’ll make it worth your while.” You nod, a little dumb as you inhale teakwood, sage, and sea salt.

It’s sure to be a profoundly satisfying night as long as you can stick to the script.

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” Slider promises, appearing by Ice’s shoulder.

”Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” Ice’s smirk is all cocky confidence, cracking only when he notices Slider has only fetched two flutes of champagne.

”Only got two hands, Tommy,” Slider says with a toothy grin, “but I’ll keep her company while you grab yourself a glass.” The crystal buzzes with the steady fizz of bubbles, your fingers brushing Sli’s ever so slightly before Ice pulls you back into the throng.

The room becomes more difficult to navigate with each new attendee, but Ice only seems more in his element as cocktail hour drags on. He introduces you to a flurry of officers and their wives whose jewel-tone dresses all start to blend together, brushing shoulders with the men who ultimately control his upward trajectory.

On his arm, you smile and nod, interjecting where appropriate because, despite the smattering of female officers present, the Navy remains very much a boy’s club.

Still, it’s nice to be shown off so publicly. To delight in the knowledge that Ice’s attention never strays far from you despite his planned schmoozing. You preen each time he introduces you to someone new with a tender look—there are many things tonight that may be manufactured, but that look isn’t one of them.

An ache blooms in the ball of your foot as Ice delivers on the same script over and over to increasingly dismal company. The throbbing is nothing compared to the pinpricks in your cheeks, though. Beauty pageant smiles are their own form of torture. But this is important.

It’s all for a good cause.

Tonight is important to Ice, so it’s important to you.

You’d do anything for your boys: ignore every sour expression at your last name, force a pleasant laugh along with each rear admiral’s wife, stifle a relieved sigh when everyone is invited to find their seats for dinner.

The flyboys have claimed three closely clustered tables during your absence, forcing others to walk around them as they spill into the spaces between each table, leaning close to make up for the distance forced by post-graduation reassignments. Viper is curiously absent, or perhaps Jester had pulled the short straw and been stuck with babysitting duties.

But there’s someone you don’t recognize at your table, sat between Merlin and Slider, a stranger in your midst. A smile splits Ice’s face when he spots him. “Cougar?” The man stands and pulls Ice into a quick embrace, Ice’s hand on the man’s—Cougar’s—shoulder. Ice makes quick work of introducing you to Bill Cortell and his wife, Maria. “Cougar and I were like brothers in flight school,” Ice beams. “We were supposed to meet up at TOPGUN, but–”

”It turned out for the best,” Cougar cuts Ice off goodnaturedly with a quick nod toward Pete. “Besides, desk life isn’t so bad.” Ice raises a brow at the assertion while Goose lets out a ‘bullshit!’ “Okay,” he cedes, “it’s pretty bad, but I wouldn’t give up being at home with Maria and the kids for the world.” Maria, who is heavily pregnant, rests her hand over her bundle of joy.

The lights choose that moment to dim, commanding stragglers to find their seats, but neither man moves. Slider stands up. “Here,” he offers Ice his seat on Cougar’s left because the two clearly have some catching up to do. Ice takes the seat while you slide over to stay seated next to him, and Slider takes your spot as the lights come up on the stage for the opening ceremony.

By the time everyone is seated and some speaker makes his way to center stage, Ice is only half paying attention to the night’s program. He and Cougar have a lot to catch up on in appropriately hushed whispers. You’re about to zone out when you’re yanked back to the present by a hand on your knee.

Above the table, for prying eyes, Slider doesn’t give anything away. Attention seemingly focused on the stage. Below the table’s skirt, however, you press your thighs together as Slider’s hand massages the skin exposed by the modified slit in your dress. Familiar callouses drawing senseless patterns above your knee. His hand stays there, occasionally giving you a comforting squeeze, like he knows you crave reassurance through gentle touches after being dragged so far out of your comfort zone. It’s nice. Before long, between the buzz of quiet conversation and each soothing caress, you relax back into your chair.

Polite applause fills the room as the admiral gives the podium to the next presenter. Pete and Carole chuckle at something Goose murmurs. Wolfman yawns. Someone coughs. A waiter comes around to top off champagne.

You wrap your fingers around the delicate stem of your flute, raising it to your lips in the same instant that Slider’s palm shifts so it’s wedged between your thighs. Your sharp breath is lost in the crowd as nimble fingers creep higher, never once pausing their massage.

The corner of Slider’s lip tugs the slightest bit up. Smug bastard. When you’re sure no one is paying attention, you give his wrist a tug, but instead of retreating, Slider brushes a finger against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you become hyper-aware of how loud your breathing is, and your brain kicks into overdrive. Can anyone hear you over the clink of glasses? Your nails dig into the meat of Slider’s wrist in surprise, but you’re fairly confident that the rest of you looks normal—suddenly, you’re not sure what that means.

Is this the way a normal person’s mouth rests? The way a normal person sits in their chair? You need to leave, but you can’t. Being good for Ice, among other things, means not causing a scene. Not fleeing the room in the middle of a presentation. Not letting anyone know that while your boyfriend dutifully splits his time between the podium and his colleague, his RIO is pushing your underwear to the side for better access to your cunt. How you’re responding to his touch.

“Hey.” Pete’s giving you a strange look from across the table. “You okay?” From the way he’s pulled a face, you missed the bar for normal, and now Goose and Carole are also looking your way.

“I’m fine,” you hiss. “I-” need a distraction. You mentally stumble as Slider continues to stroke up and down your slit, his fingers spreading the wetness until they glide effortlessly through your lips.

The universe grants your wish when the crowd bursts into polite applause and the mic is turned over to the next speaker. “Isn’t that Admiral Benjamin?”

“As in Penny Benjamin?” Carole perks up, sitting tall in an attempt to get a better look at the stage while Pete bangs his head onto the table. Probably. You’re admittedly not paying attention.

Pleasure zings up your spine as thick fingers nudge your clit. A reward for redirecting the eyes on you. It’s everything you can do not to press your hips into the pressure or let your head loll back with a gasp. And with Penny’s father keeping attention off of you, Slider hooks an ankle around yours to encourage your legs further apart.

You shouldn’t, but Slider has always been convincing.

Ice won’t be particularly pleased with how promptly you gave into Slider’s suggestions, how readily your legs fall open, but that’s barely a blip on your radar as firm circles rub into your clit. The devil on your shoulder whispers that if Ice had really wanted to win, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so easily distracted.

None of that matters nearly as much as it should when your heart pulses between your legs.

A hand lands on your velvet-covered thigh. Ice. “Sweetheart.” You whip your head around too quickly for the move to be anything but suspicious. Like you’ve been caught with your hand—or someone else’s—in the cookie jar. You try to focus on the cool, grounding pressure of his touch. It’s working, you think, but your leg is still trembling from the effort it takes to keep still. Keen eyes move from your face to your leg, trembling under his touch, to your lap, and then to Slider, where they narrow almost imperceptibly. “You alright?”

With a nod, you reach past your champagne for water to wet your dry throat. “Just taking it all in.”

A poor choice of words. Ever the opportunist, Slider presses a finger into your hole, the stretch delicious and unexpected enough that you almost choke. If anyone catches the color on your cheeks, you hope they’ll blame your earlier drinks.

“I was just saying I didn’t know Maverick had a sister,” Cougar says, this time loud enough for the table to hear him.

“He doesn’t talk about me much.”

“Yeah,” Pete scoffs, “because when people find out about you, this–” he gestures between you and Ice “–happens.”

“You got any other sisters, Mav?” Chipper’s question from the next table over prompts Pete to load a pomegranate seed onto this salad fork. He’s ready to launch, but a disapproving look from Jester dissuades him. Goose flips Chipper the bird in a show of solidarity.

“So when did this happen?” Cougar asks, eyes flitting from you to the blonde on your right.

Slider chuckles and leans into the conversation at the same time as he crooks his fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek. The circles Ice is rubbing into your knee aren’t as distracting as either of you wants them to be. “He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since we made it to Miramar.”

Hypocrite. You clear your throat. “About five months?”

“Aw,” Maria sighs in that way so many in long-term relationships do. You try and fail to focus on that as a second finger prods at your opening before pushing in slowly. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Thankfully, Ice steps in with a reply because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears when Slider rubs his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb applying steady pressure to your clit. Your nails dig crescent moons into Ice’s wrist in a last-ditch attempt to ground yourself because if Slider keeps this up, it’s going to take a miracle to keep you from causing a scene.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Viper’s unapologetic quip appears from seemingly nowhere. Your own personal savior. “I need to borrow Iceman and Slider, Maverick and Merlin, Hollywood and Wolfman.”

You shiver at the abrupt emptiness. Slider wipes his fingers, dripping with arousal, off on the tablecloth, eyes locked on Ice.

Next Chapter

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rottenpumpkin13 · 8 months

Note

Angeal wants to host a potluck for his boyfriends friends. He only asks that the boys actually try and put some effort into their dishes.

Because of our baby's latest obsession, Angeal specifically asks Sephiroth to avoid bringing Halloween candy.

He begs asks Zack to not bring a family sized box of Hot Pockets.

What do AGS + ZC bring to the table? How does the actual potluck go?

Chaos obviously ensues, by the way.

The Potluck From Hell

• Even though he's organizing it, Angeal's making sure to over-contribute to the potluck! You know, just in case.

• He's got apple sausage sliders for Genesis, Bolognese pasta for Sephiroth, beef stroganoff for Zack and schnitzel for Cloud. He trusts his friends will follow suit and contribute with their own fun dishes.

• He was wrong.

*Angeal stands in his doorway looking at Sephiroth, who holds a jack-o'-lantern-themed bowl full of candy*

Angeal: Sephiroth no.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth yes.

Angeal: A bowl of candy does not count as a dish.

Sephiroth: But it's food. It's edible.

Angeal: It's pure sugar. I asked you to bring a meal.

Sephiroth: This is a meal.

Angeal: Says who?

Sephiroth: Says the last eight meals I've eaten.

Angeal: YOU'VE BEEN EATING NOTHING BUT CANDY FOR TWO DAYS?

Sephiroth: .....Maybe.

Angeal: Give me that! *he snatches the bowl away from him* Go and come back with an actual dish!

*Angeal slams the door in Sephiroth's face*

• Angeal, still fuming, is prepping the table when he hears his doorbell ring again. He rushes to answer it. Zack and Cloud stand there holding huge taco trays.

Zack: Mexican fiesta!

Cloud: I've been living a nightmare since last night.

Angeal: Why?

Zack: Mexican fiesta!

Cloud: We were up all night making the tacos, right?

Angeal: Right.

Zack: Mexican fiesta!

Cloud: And I already had reservations about going down the taco route because you know how Zack is with tacos, right?

Angeal: Oh, right!

Zack: Mexican fiesta!

Cloud: We got the first tray done and Zack ate it all in two seconds.

Angeal: Oh my god??

Zack: Mexican fiesta!

Cloud: I know. And he did that three times. We had to start from scratch three times. I had to lock him in the broom closet to get this done.

Zack: Mexican fi—

Cloud: SHUT UP!

Zack:

Angeal: Just...just go inside guys...

• While the boys head inside the apartment, Sephiroth shows up again. This time he's holding an industrial bucket filled to the brim with jelly beans.

Sephiroth: Beans are a great source of fiber and rich in—

*Angeal slams the door in his face*

• Fifteen minutes pass. Cloud and Zack are helping Angeal in the kitchen when the doorbell rings again. Angeal rushes to answer it.

• Genesis stands there with three bottles of wine in one hand and a glass dish covered in tinfoil in the other.

Genesis: I brought Swedish meatballs!

Angeal (in shock): No way.

Genesis: Way.

Angeal: You brought a normal dish and drinks?

Genesis: Yup!

Angeal: You were responsible with a task.

Genesis: Yup!

Angeal: And you cooked the meal from scratch like I asked you to?

Genesis: Duh!

*Angeal breaks down crying and pulls Genesis in for a hug*

Angeal: I'm so proud of you buddy~

Genesis: I know. I'm great, aren't I?

Angeal: Wait, there's something sticking out from your pocket.

*Angeal pulls out a business card from a Swedish restaurant*

Genesis:

Angeal:

Genesis: That's not mine.

Angeal: It was in your pocket.

Genesis: That's not my pocket.

Angeal: You're a fraud. Get inside.

• The boys are all hanging around and finishing up with the cooking and the setup when the doorbell rings.

• Angeal drags his feet as he heads to the door. He's fully expecting to see Sephiroth holding more candy.

• Instead he opens the door and is met with...

Angeal:

Sephiroth:

Angeal: You have got to be kidding me.

*Sephiroth holds out his halloween candy chocolate lasagna*

Sephiroth: Lasagna is a meal.

*Angeal sighs and holds open the door*

Angeal: Just get inside. And go help Cloud tie Zack to the radiator. He got ahold of the tacos again.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy vii #final fantasy #ff7r #angeal hewley #final fantasy 7 crisis core #ff7 crisis core #ff7cc #cloud strife #zack fair #storytime

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pollyna · 1 year

Text

Sam, better known as Merlin, is the best worst matchmaker who ever lived and he loves to organise blind dates for his friends. And that's how he ends up sitting on a triple blind date for Carole, Goose and Slider with the people he thinks are the best for them. Maverick for Carole, Hollywood for Slider and Wolfman for Goose. But the moment they're sitting, all six of them, at the table it's pure chaos because nobody is talking with the person Merlin thought was the perfect match. Goose is shifting sits to be between Carole and Slider who are already halfway flirting with him, Hollywood and Wolfman are talking about something Merlin doesn't even try to understand and Maverick is eating his dinner like nothing of that is his problem. Only twenty minutes later, when Carole is sitting on both Slider and Goose, another man Merlin doesn't know comes in, sits in front of Maverick and asks the guy if he stopped by the supermarket to pick up the dessert or not, before kissing him. Right there. In front of Merlin and Carole who was supposed to be his date.

Merlin ends up ordering two shots of whisky and then four trying to understand how nothing has gone has it should. The other seven people seem way less concerned and more than happy.

#slooserole #hollywolf #icemav #sam merlin wells #-> he thinks he knows them all and then he misses the shot by about 150 miles #blind date #au

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newwwwusername · 4 months

Note

Can you do a platonic Autistic!Vaggie and Angel fic?

Vaggie has an overstimulated meltdown due to having to deal with everyone's antics and surprisingly Angel comforts her

Do not repost this on other sites. It will be cross-posted to AO3 under the same username.

Content warning for self-injurious stimming and depictions of an Autistic meltdown

Normally, Vaggie was good at ignoring the chaos of the hotel and all of the constant talking and whining and bitching from what few residents lived there.

Vaggie generally didn't get too overstimulated at the Hotel. She'd fought on the front lines before, back when she was an Exorcist, so she knew how to endure the noise well enough. The lights were generally kept pretty dim for her sake, by Charlie's insistence. Alastor had suggested a few times that they made the place brighter but one look at Vaggie was all Charlie needed to shut that idea down.

However, at this particular moment, her brain wasn't handling everything as well as it should've.

Sir Pentious and Alastor had gotten into a petty, loud argument about the semantics of... Something, and the noise was only made worse by the occasional two cents from the Egg Bois, who couldn't seem to decide which side they were on.

Over by the bar, Charlie was enthusiastically going through a list of ideas of how to make that part of the Hotel more friendly, much to Husk's annoyance. Angel sat by, occasionally throwing in a vulgar comment.

And Niffty was... Well, being Niffty and loudly tormenting a few roaches who had found their way into the main area of the hotel.

Vaggie stood by the staircase, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected even as all the noise grew louder. It was a losing battle, though, especially as her brain began to focus in on the sound of the lights and the AC as well. It was Angel who saw her race upstairs, so he casually walked away from the bar- Charlie and Husk were too deep into discussion to even notice him leaving.

Upon going upstairs, Angel quickly made his way to Vaggie's quarters. He opened the door (which she hadn't locked in her overwhelm) and immediately spotted her sitting up in the bed, curled in a ball, and hitting herself in the head repeatedly.

He quickly but calmly got up onto the bed. He didn't want to touch her when she was clearly overwhelmed so he instead picked up one of the pillows on the bed and gently put it in between her hand and the hand she was hitting herself with, just to minimize injury.

He got up again and walked over to where the light slider was on the wall and dimmed the lights in the room. Her hitting died down a bit with that and he could now more clearly hear the low whine repeatedly emanating from her vocal chords.

"Vaggie?" he said in an uncharacteristically soft voice as he once again sat down on the bed in front of her. She didn't give any sort of response- Verbal or otherwise- So he figured that this probably wasn't a talk-through-it type of meltdown. Realistically, all he could really do now was keep her company until she calmed down.

Eventually, she tired herself out enough for the meltdown to end and she just sat there, avoiding Angel's gaze. She was embarrassed- This was embarrassing. She felt embarrassed when it was Charlie seeing her like that- But Angel Dust?

She was about ready to curl up and die.

"Ya okay?" Angel asked. She shrugged. "Can't talk?" She nodded timidly. "'Kay, hold on a sec" he told her, pulling out his phone and opening the notes app. He handed her the device with a weak smile. "There ya go"

'Sorry about that' she typed out. He frowned.

"Ya don't gotta apologize fo' that" he told her earnestly. "I know we ain't all tha' close, but I ain't gonna judge ya fo' somethin' like this. Ya can't help it"

'Thank you for the pillow and the lights and for not leaving me alone'

"I figured no one else was gonna cause they were all distracted" he told her honestly. She supposed that was fair- I think they both would've preferred if it was Charlie there with her instead of him, but it also could've been worse. "D'ya wanna be left alone?"

'No, it's okay. You can stay if you want'

"Alrigh' then" Angel leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling while Vaggie recovered from her meltdown. He wondered if he could call her a friend rather than an acquaintance.

Vaggie figured that they were probably friends.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic prompts #hazbin hotel #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hellaverse #hazbin angel dust #autism #meltdown #hurt/comfort

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24hrfrog · 1 year

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flower au stuff :3

what i have in my head when thinking abt it~

best way to talk abt dynamic is a football player vs the present of student council trying to get the new guys attention

mav doesn’t automatically fall and isn’t easy to fluster, more like takes the flirting head on 💀

slider is interested immediately because ice is, monkey see monkey do

if ice wasn’t around, the tattoo and piercing business he & slider owns would shut down fr

slider and baby brad interactions is chaos vs ice and baby brad is a well distinguished gentleman and his polite son lol

if the daggers would make an appearance it would be pretty brief and just referring to pre school peers brad has, side story of baby brad having a playdate and the three adults trying to control them lol

slider’s tattoos are ocean/sky war themes, like full sleeve tapestry of a huge ship and a anchor trailing down his arm and a dog fight scene on the forearm of the planes falling, lots of cloud/debris, and angel wings on his neck, on the opposite arm it’s basically following the same theme (these go all the way to his pecs), on his back its three chained up dobermans and smaller scattered stuff on his thighs n legs

ice is very much a drawer too but is more secretive about his work, hes not fond of tatting and hence he just sticks with piercings

slider has more piercings than ice bc ice literally uses him as his model (like when a kid would use a teddy bear and give them piercings lol)

ice has only a few smaller tattoos of more calming scenes (still thinking abt what)

when slider pulls up to mav’s with a new piercing or tattoo he’ll gross him out with it and thinks its amusing 💀

mav never wants a piercing due to the very understanding fear of it getting ripped of. he also just never thought of wanting a tattoo but just cuz he wouldn’t know what and why he would need one

ice is a germ freak real.

slider picked up ice’s habits of waking up early and cleaning so the shop and their shared living space is always clean

idk ice and sliders relationship situation but theyre real comfortable with each others presence and a lot of customers end up thinking its a couples business when they walk in lol

ice is actually rlly warm body temperature wise and slider on the colder side

carole is a successful wedding planner and travels internationally for her work, typically she brings goose if she needs an extra pair of hands and brad is in mav’s care often (doesnt mean they dont love him tho!)

baby brad says he has two dads and one mom bc of how much time he has with mav

mav is the owner of the flower shop after carole gave it to him due to her schedule just getting too busy, goose is still a co owner and is in the shop whenever he is able

both shops have their living space above it

slider throws pebbles at mav’s window across the street to bother him

slider and ice share a bed, when they first moved in there was only one bed they could afford and they just didn’t mention buying a second, ice says it’s bc than they’ll have to rearrange the whole place to make a new bedroom and it would take too much effort

brad looks more like how miles teller was when he was a baby than 86 baby brad

ice and mav and slider are a lil different looking than in 86, maybe just a lil older, mav has a bit more muscle on him for sure and sliders hair us more grown out and curly

#me not wanting to write an actual thing but if its short bulletpoint i can work with that lol #flower shop au #top gun #top gun 1986 #slider top gun #ron slider kerner #iceman kazansky #iceman top gun #maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #slicemav

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pudding-parade · 7 months

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Get to know you - Sims Style

@rstarsims3 tagged me for this a while back, and I'm finally posting my answers, which took me a while to compile because 1) Blabbity blab blab blab, as usual, and 2) Still needing lots of rest and stuff, so no sitting at a computer for hours on end.

But here we go! I'mma put my blabby answers and my tag list behind Ye Olde Cut.

What’s your favorite Sims death? What an odd question, especially to lead off… Well, I guess if I had to pick one, it'd be the one from TS2 where cloudwatching occasionally brings a satellite down on the cloudwatcher's head. But generally, mine die of old age, if they manage to get that far. I play with long, but realistically proportional, life stages, mostly because I'm almost always playing "experimental" saves where I'm "road testing" rulesets and such, so I need a lot of time to work out kinks and test ideas and stuff.)

Alpha CC or Maxis Match? I land on a combination of more-realistic (but not ultra-realistic) stuff for CAS, but for everything else, like with furniture and deco and stuff, I tend to prefer CC stuff that visually fits in with the EA stuff in terms of style and textures and whatnot, so that the CC doesn't stick out like a sore thumb when combined with EA stuff. In fact, my "go-to" CC for build/buy is stuff that adds on to EA stuff, like more doors/windows that match an EA door/window.

Do you cheat your sims weight? What, to make the fat ones skinny? The skinny ones fat? The skinny ones buff? No. I don't see why I would. It's easy enough to make a sim gain or lose weight without cheating, which I'm assuming means just using the sliders.

Do you move objects? Is there anyone who doesn't? That's a serious question. Is there any one who doesn't? I want to know.

Favorite Mod? I'm leaving aside the NRaas mods because I don't see them as mods so much as things that are just essential to make the game playable in the often-weird ways that I play. There are others that I also consider just essential for when I'm playing in certain styles, especially for more primitive settings. But for ones that are optional and just pure fun, I'd nominate all of @thesweetsimmer111's baby- and toddler-related ones.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? I know for TS2 it was Seasons. For TS3…For a long time, I had just the base game, which I got when it came out, but didn't play beyond trying it out and then going back to TS2. Then, years later, I got a new computer and decided to give TS3 another try, but I couldn't find the CD or DVD or whatever it was, so I bought a combo pack with the base game, Late Night, and the High End Loft or whatever it is stuff pack, so I guess it would be Late Night. Other than that, I bought all the other TS3 EPs in one go when EA had them on sale for 50% off via Origin, which that combo pack forced me to install. (But which I am now free of again. 🏴‍☠️)

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? As aLIVE. Because that is when the game is live. Games do not live, but they can be live. See, this is one reason why English sucks.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? Here's a thing about me: I don't really get attached to the pixel people. For me, they're just tools. I'm guessing it's because I'm not a storyteller when it comes to Sims, so I don't see sims as characters. Sure, sometimes I find one endearing for one reason or another. Usually, they have traits that make them assholes, and I like to watch them create chaos and ruin wherever they go. One of the founders of the Random Legacy that I will get back to one of these days is one of those. But I find I like other people's sims more than mine, though that's more of a testament to those simmers' story-telling skills than anything else.

Have you made a simself? Only by accident. A few times I've just been randomly moving sliders around and somehow I ended up with something that looked like me at some stage in my life. It stayed that way for a minute or three, before I yelled OH GOD NO! and quickly slidered the horror away.

But to be honest? I find the entire concept kind of creepy, at least in terms of putting a self-sim in the game and playing them as a character. That would just feel weird to me. That said, I suppose it might have been something that would have appealed to me if I had played when I was a kid, but the game didn't exist when I was a kid. Computers didn't exist when I was a kid, at least not in a form that regular people could own and that could fit on a desk. I was in my 40s when I started playing the game. My daughter played TS2 when she was a kid, and she had a self-sim inserted into the stories she would play, so…yeah. Maybe it's a younger-person thing. Or maybe I'm just weird. Yeah, it's probably that second option.

Which is your favorite EA hair color? Probably the black, but even with that I have to add some highlights to it because otherwise the hair just looks like a creature from the void eating the sim's head.

Favorite EA hair? None of them. They all need to DIAF.

Favorite life stage? I don't have one. I have a least-favorite, babies, because they're basically just objects, but once they're actually sims, I enjoy playing sims of all ages equally.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I originally bought TS2 just to build in it, and for a couple of years, that was all I did. I only started actually playing the game later. Now, I enjoy both building and actually playing the game, depending on my mood. Usually, I'll have a binge of building, but I eventually come to a point where I'd rather do anything other than build. Then I play the game. Then, eventually, the urge to build comes back. So it's a back-and-forth.

Are you a CC creator? I made lots of stuff for TS2, mostly object retextures/recolors. I've made a few minor things for TS3, and I retexture hairs and add preg morphs to clothing for my own use, but I wouldn't consider myself a CC creator for TS3. In fact, I'm actively resisting learning how to make stuff for TS3 because I really don't want to go down that rabbithole again.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad? Friends in the sense of "people I enjoy talking to and sharing ideas with and sometimes arguing with here on Tumblr?" Sure. Are those the same as friendships that develop face-to-face in the real world? Nope. But, sometimes I like talking to my Simblr friends a lot more than talking to my real-life friends, so make of that what you will. Y'all are less draining sometimes. LOL

Do you have any sims merch? No official merch, but my brother-in-law is into making pottery, and several years ago he made me a big stoneware mug with a plumbbob on it. Which is ironic because when I play the game I turn off the plumbbobs because I hate them. LOL But I love the mug. It's heavy enough that neither cats nor wagging dog tails nor giant snakes (though he could do it if he focused all four of his brain cells on the task) can knock it off of tables, but not so heavy that I can't comfortably lift it. I use it for eating soup and the occasional mug cake, and also for drinking the awful herbal tea my husband makes me drink, though since the recent surgery, I don't have to drink that anymore! *dances* So now it will just be my soup or cake mug. Or one for tea that I actually want to drink.

Do you have a YouTube for sims? I don't have a YouTube for anything. Well, OK, I have a YouTube account for watching other people's stuff and making playlists of things I want to watch, but I don't post videos on it, and I don't really watch video game-related stuff on YouTube, either.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing? It hasn't, really. I've pretty much always just come up with wacky scenarios to play and see how they go. In fact, for me, coming up with the scenario and figuring out how to make it work in the game and then inventing a ruleset to govern it is sometimes more fun than actually playing the scenario. LOL

And my Sims all look like the game made them because…the game makes all of them. I just poke the random button until it produces something that doesn't look too much like a freak of nature, then I hit up a couple sliders to remove or tone down any remaining freakishness. (Though I confess that I will spend an inordinate amount of time sculpting the titties of those who have them. Why? I have no idea, other than I just like me a nice pair of titties. Too bad there aren't any sliders for male titties…) Then I just slap on a different hair, maybe change the eye color, and slather on some makeup and facial/body hair and shit until they don't look too stupid, and then off I go. From there, they're all born in the game, and I just leave them as-is, mostly because I can't be bothered. "I can't be bothered" is pretty much my philosophy of life.

Who’s your favorite CC creator? I hate this kind of question. I feel like all they do is disappoint and discourage people if they're never picked. I refuse to do that over something so trivial. So, my favorite CC creator is you, the person reading this. Yes, you. Even if you don't make CC. It doesn't matter. You're the best.

How long have you had Simblr? I started my TS2 one in 2013. (I can remember that only because I know that I started it the same year I met my husband. LOL ) I started this one….2 years ago? 3? Something like that.

How do you edit your pictures? Other than basic cropping and resizing and maybe adjusting brightness/contrast a bit if the pic is too dark or whatever, I generally don't. I don't even use Reshade all the time anymore, only in certain situations, though I do have an NVIDIA profile for the game that adds ambient occlusion and better antialiasing and shit like that. Sometimes, though, I'll decide to photoshop scenery pics, and then I just kind of stab at it with various tools and filters and layer blends and shit until I like I how it looks. There's no actual process involved. I'm random like that.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite? I gotta go with World Adventures. Bits of it are a bit, shall we say, culturally problematic, but man, I never get tired of doing those stupid, stupid tombs. LOL Plus, I love that NRaas Traveler allows you to "travel" to any world, and I don't think that mod works without WA, so…. Yeah. WA.

Tagging: I have no idea who's done this, so I'll just tag a few random people, off the top of my head. Feel free to do or ignore, as you choose. No pressure from me! So...@nectar-cellar, @happy-lemon, @erasabledinosaur, @esotheria-sims, @lilleputtu, @littlefrenchsims, @anamoon63, @lazysunjade, annnnnnnnd @papermint-airplane.

#it's all about meeeeee!#memes memes glorious memes

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teddy06 · 1 year

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Everyone wake up the new AU I’m never gonna write just dropped

Hear me out:

IceMav Yours Mine and Ours AU

Either version, but I’m partial to the original

Basically with Iceman and Maverick as Frank and Helen and the daggers as their respective kids who are all working together to try and get them to divorce

I’m thinking Ice and co (Bob, Halo, Hangman, Yale, Harvard, and Coyote) have been living in San Francisco for a while bc Ice has a semi permanent station there

For the most part, they’re on the chiller side, a little more regimented, but all in all sort of like a regular family

But then Maverick and co (rooster, phoenix, fritz, fanboy, payback, and Omaha) move into the city becuase Mav was reassigned

These kids are like your average military brats (bc Mav keeps doing things to be reassigned) but way more chaotic

Their house is loud, obnoxious and kind of like an introverts nightmare

Anyway, eventually, Ice and Mav start seeing each other, maybe goose or slider sets them up, and the kids are Pissed

They’re constantly trying to put them off each other, and then starting their own rivalries with each other at school and the whole mess is getting worse (Bob and Phoenix are the one kids that actually get along, but they enjoy contributing to the chaos on occasion)

Then Ice and Mav get married and the attempts to get them separated just get more and more wild as all the daggers are forced to move in together

#teddy 06 #teddy06 #top gun #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #iceman #Maverick #icemav #dadmav #dadice #yours mine and ours au #the kids are pissed

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whiskeyswriting · 2 years

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Chaos Activated

📝 A/N: No prompt just word dump of hilarious chaos the Dagger Squad causes… Mainly the Chaotic Trio: Maverick, Rooster, and Whiskey (Reader’s Call Sign) Oh and Reader is Slider’s daughter…! Fic based on the comments of this post.

It was a miracle that Maverick and Rooster survived the mission despite the near death experiences. The both of them had to thank Hangman and you for saving them and getting them back to the ship.

What was more of a miracle was that Vice Admiral Cyclone did minimal shouting at Rooster for breaking orders and going after Maverick.

Now they were being taken to the infirmary to check and treat for any injuries. You don’t know why the doctors and nurses even bothered trying to separate the two.

Despite their rocky past, the two deeply cared about the other. You knew Uncle Mav did what he thought would be best for Rooster by pulling his papers. It was something you and your father never agreed with and expressed it to him.

Rooster was like a cousin to you and you knew he was just as stubborn as Mav. You couldn’t help but love the two to death. (Sometimes quite literally).

The weeks passed and you all found yourselves back at The Hard Deck. It didn’t matter how much you tried to behave, you knew, one way or another, Mav and Rooster would end up dragging you into their schemes.

“No! No! No way am I going to use my daddy’s name to get Cyclone to give us another three free days to play dogfight football,” you say.

“C’mon kid. You’re a Kerner. You’re Slider’s sunshine. He’ll move earth and planets to make the Navy listen to you,” Mav says.

“When did you turn into a poet?” You ask sarcastically.

Bradley throws an arm around your shoulder. “Princess. Whiskey… We all know Cyclone is sweet on you. Live up to your name Whiskey. Use those smooth words and seduce him.”

You can’t help but start laughing. “You do know I don’t have to seduce my own boyfriend?”

Penny comes over and refills your drinks. “I can already sense the chaos activating with you three.”

“I’m heading out to the beach to get away from these two troublemakers,” you say taking your drink with you.

Penny winks at them and at that moment the rest of the squad came out from hiding. “So is the plan set?”

Phoenix nods. “I’ll go keep her distracted for a moment but then Mav and Rooster come back into the mix while Yale and Fritz get Cyclone here.”

Fanboy starts setting up the camera to record the planned proposal.

But Penny knew. She already knew that whenever the three of you got together, nothing would ever go according to plan. She started closing out tabs and closing the bar early.

All of a sudden the aviators hear shouting and see Mav and Rooster running along the beach and you running after them yelling.

A group of college aged guys were following the three of you. It was then they realized that Mav and Rooster used you as bait to steal the guys’ football to start their own game.

Bob looks around a bit panicked. “Shouldn’t we stop them?”

You can feel uncle Goose and Ice just shaking their heads in disbelief. “I know… I know,” you mutter as you keep running after Mav and Rooster.

Penny finally rushes outside. “Did I miss anything? I closed off the bar. I didn't miss it right?”

Hangman hands her some popcorn (that mysteriously appeared) and a drink. “No you are just on time.”

Suddenly you feel yourself getting thrown over someone’s shoulders. You are about to start screaming, thinking it was one of the college guys. You then recognize the backside you’re looking down at. “Oh hey!” You give it a squeeze.

Maverick and Rooster stopped running and ended up explaining dogfight football to the college guys when they spotted you being carried by Cyclone. They shake their heads.

“As I live and breathe… I never thought I’d see Cyclone running at the beach?“

“Was that supposed to happen?” Bob asks looking around. “Did we all see the same thing?”

Phoenix wraps an arm around Bob’s shoulders. “Cyclones loves Whiskey too much to actually be mad at them. Mav and Roos on the other hand,” she says grimacing.

“Wait… I thought Rooster and Mav were supposed to be the distraction so the admiral could propose.”

“Wait! Whaaaa?!??” Hangman exclaims choking on his drink.

Payback helps pay his back. “We talked about this, you idiot. Next time stop looking at yourself so much in the mirror.”

“I have the flowers in the bar’s office” Bob says.

“I have the Avenger theme song… but wedding version ready!” Fanboy adds.

“I have my suit ready!” Harvard says. “I’m ready to look good for wedding season! All those push-ups help.”

Coyote shakes his head looking over the squad. “’m just here for the chaos and snacks.”

“Soooo what's the plan now?” Penny and Amelia, who had recently arrived, ask.

They all turn to see Cyclone spinning you in a circle as he hugged your waist. The only movement that was clear to them was your nodding.

🏷 List: @cycbaby @callsignscupcake @callsign-dragonbaron

#mrsjaderogerswrites #top gun maverick #tgm fandom #tgm things #tgm fanfiction #the dagger squad #dagger squad #i love these idiots #tgm #fanfic

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taizi · 2 years

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all the things that i could live without

rise of the tmnt pairing: don & leo word count: 1349 title borrowed from if i didn’t have you by banners post-movie

read on ao3

“Hamato Donatello,” Leo said, his even tone riding the line of good humor and sternness both. “How much shell time have you had today?”

Donnie pointedly doesn’t look up from his iPad. Making eye contact in these moments is too risky. Leo can clock a lie with such accuracy that Donnie thinks it must be a secondary mutation or something, because it certainly isn't natural. The only reason any of them get away with anything is because Donnie’s twin is an agent of chaos, more likely to encourage their stupidity than put a kibosh on it.

Shell time, however, is one of Those Things Leo Takes Very Seriously.

“Scoff,” Donnie says. “I’ll take a break in a minute, I want to finish reading this dissertation I found about chronic musculoskeletal pain and physiotherapy. Not all of it can be applied to us, given that it’s written by humans for humans, but—”

“Dude, it’s like four PM.” Leo’s tone has made its choice, leaning away from amused and into firm. Nooo. “You’re not gonna be able to sleep tonight if you don’t stretch out soon.”

“And I will, soon,” Don replies. It’s the pinnacle of absurdity that they’re talking about his stupid spine when Leo is the one recovering from multiple traumatic injuries.

Leo doesn’t think so, because of course he doesn’t. He’s like a dog with a bone. His persistent personality has saved all their shells more than a dozen times but that doesn’t mean Donnie has to like it when it’s aimed against him.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the slider says with no small amount of showmanship.

Despite himself, Donnie glances up from his tablet. He can feel himself go soft to match his dumb shell, even if it doesn’t show on his face. He loves Leo so much, even when Leo’s being his absolute worst self, and right now Leo is being his best. Warmth unspools like fiber cable in Donnie’s chest, prickly and sparking.

They came so close to losing him. What would they have done without him? It’s frightening to think about. For once in his life, Donnie doesn’t want to know.

He sits back in his chair, ignoring the twinge in his lower back the way he’s ignored it for the past three hours, and says, “What does the hard way look like?”

“You’re gonna hate it.”

“Color me intrigued.”

Leo shrugs and starts to lift himself up. The infirmary bed is raised at an angle, to help Leo breathe and reduce the risk of pneumonia that has kept Don awake at night, but now he’s pushing himself upright all the way, kicking at his blanket with the foot that isn’t casted.

“Oh my god, stop, I hate it,” Donnie blurts, all but flinging his tablet aside in his rush to put an end to this nightmare. “You win, you monster!”

Smugly, Leo says, “I always win. Even when I lose.”

“Oh, you must be feeling better,” Don tells him, easing him back down with gentle hands that don’t match his annoyed tone. “Because once again, you are completely delusional.”

It earns him a chuckle, a wheezing shade of what should have been a loud, lively thing, but it feels like a victory anyway. Don will take it. He won’t let it go.

Leo pats the bed beside him. Donnie sighs performatively, but he’s turtle enough to admit when he’s been outplayed.

The battle shell disengages with a hiss of hydraulics and he sets it aside. It’s such an immediate relief to work out his shoulders, and twist his fragile spine, that he maybe should have taken it off earlier, after all.

“Bring your tablet over here,” Leo says. “I wanna watch that baking show where no one knows what they’re doing.”

Donnie settles in beside him, and he doesn’t outwardly fuss the way Raph and Mikey and Casey all do, but he’s very, very careful behind the casual manner. His brother’s body was so broken, almost beyond repair. He has months of recovery left, and as the team medic, Leo knows that.

But he did what he did for the sake of his family and now he just wants to be close to them. He doesn’t want to be shut away in the infirmary and tiptoed around and hugged so gingerly that the mean voice in his brain is able to convince him that the space and distance and reluctant touches are because he did something wrong.

That mean inner voice that Leo sometimes listens to is as much his siblings’ sworn enemy as the Shredder ever was.

So, after a clan meeting taken when Leo was finally, fitfully asleep, and one educational screening of Patch Adams that made Casey and Raph both cry, they decided to forgo all the values of traditional medicine and give Leo what he needed instead.

They’re hardier than baseline humans are, and if the Krang couldn’t kill Leo in its own dimension than it’s likely nothing can, and these are the arguments Leo makes to be allowed out of bed.

It’s all a moot point. As soon as he lifts his hands toward Raph, Raph is already stooping to pick him up, no matter what side of the argument he’d been on a second ago.

Leo gets carried around so much he hasn’t even used the ethically-sourced wheelchair April dragged to the lair for him. There are so many people willing to hold him at all hours of the day and night that mobility is the least of his issues, even with all his broken bones.

They have to keep an eye on him. Sometimes Leo actually is too sore or too tired to do much of anything. Right now, there’s a rattle in his lungs that Donnie doesn’t like, so he’s stuck in bed for real. But that doesn’t mean they can’t keep him company anyway. And it’s not like they don’t want to be near him.

His infirmary bed is parked in the lab for now, but Mikey has made more than one passive-aggressive remark about brother-hoggers since lunch, so it’s likely they’ll end up having a sleepover in the living room again tonight.

It’s hard for Don sometimes, being in the middle of a group. It’s easy to feel smothered. His skin starts to itch if he can’t slip away. Sometimes a hug makes him want to slide into his shell the way Mikey hides in his when he gets spooked, even though it’s a biological impossibility for his species.

But it’s not hard all the time. There are some days when it’s the easiest thing in the world.

So Donnie is very careful, but it’s the work of seconds to get settled, because he’s done this about a billion times by now. He’s on Leo’s good side, so Leo can shuffle in as close as he wants, and he brings up the first season of Nailed It! on his iPad even though he knows Leo isn’t going to last a single episode.

Sure enough, in a manner of minutes, his brother’s head on his shoulder becomes a heavy weight and Leo’s breathing evens out in his sleep.

Donnie lets the rest of the episode play even though he could switch back to his dissertation now. The lights in the lab dimmed automatically when Leo started to doze off, and Donnie is too comfortable to bring them back up again.

He tips to the side until his cheek comes to rest on the top of his striped brother’s bruised head and when he exhales all the tension he’s been carrying around all day blows out of him.

Belatedly, Don realizes that he’s been conned into taking a nap.

“Ugh, Nardo, you are good,” he mutters, with grudging admiration.

Maybe there’s a different version of himself out there who really lost his best friend and better half. Maybe in some other timeline, they didn’t save Leo, and they had to make sense of a world without him.

Donnie thinks he feels sorry for that world, because there’s absolutely no way the Donatello who lives there hasn’t already torn it to pieces to get his brother back.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt movie #hamato donatello #hamato leonardo #disaster twins #my writing #tmnt fic

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callmemana · 1 year

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All Grown Up:

Summary: The Kazansky and Kerner’s watch their daughters graduate from High School.

🚨warnings🚨: fluff, soft Slider and Iceman moments.

{masterlist 📚} {previous chapter 📎} {next chapter 📖}

In honor of our baby Mousey graduating HS in a few weeks!

It was a hot afternoon in May on the Miramar base that the Kazansky family were currently stationed at.

Ice and Dragon couldn’t be more proud of their daughters as the couple and the Kerner’s sat by one another to watch this big moment in their children’s lives.

The tight friendship between their parents had been carried on to the Kazansky sisters and the Kerner girl.

When both women were told that they had a low chance to have a baby, it pained them to know that they wouldn’t be able to experience the same things as other couples on the base.

But by what seems like a wish upon a shooting star, within a month of each other, Rachael and Jade found out that they were pregnant.

Tom and Ron were very helpful during the pregnancies and tried to be there for every appointment and when the men couldn’t, the women would be each others support systems.

They were all thankful for this day, the girls because they could finally follow in their parents footsteps and join the Navy and the couples because it showed that their babies were growing up.

The girls were all dressed in their official Navy Officer uniforms, hair slicked back in the mandatory bun, and the Navy chords laying on the back of their necks.

Nerves shot up their backs as they waited in the line before walking out to the football stadium that held the awaiting parents.

Baylie Kazansky, the eldest, started the hand holding train with the two other girls behind her. As the leader, she made sure to care for the younger two.

Raven was in the middle and the youngest of the group, the older girls protected her at all cost and wouldn’t let anyone hurt their Mousey.

Last but not least, was Amanda Kerner. The only child of Slider and Whiskey, but saw the Kazansky’s as her second family.

All the girls had ‘graduated’ in the second semester of the school year and gone to bootcamp between then and now.

Today made it official and would get their diplomas that they worked so hard for during the four years of high school they finished.

The music started and the line moved to the door, one by one all the students came outside and sat in order, just like they practiced earlier in the day.

A speech was made by the Salutatorian before the Principal and the Vice Principal made their own.

A moment of silence was announced for the Military members present and who had passed then the Valedictorian made his speech.

More time passed before the Principal started to call the names of students.

As the last of the surnames that started with J’s were called up to the stage, Baylie buzzed with excitement and squeezed Raven’s hand, who in which returned it and did the same to Amanda.

“Baylie Ann Kazansky,” Mr. Simpson called and with one last squeeze, Bay started her walk to the stairs that attached to the stage.

Thinking quickly she jumped in the air on the last step and did a little heel click, a smile on her face after she stuck the landing.

She heard the shouts of her family as she shook her Principal and the Vice Principal’s hand as she held the diploma and the photographer took the picture.

At the end of the stairs stood a junior who handed her a red carnation with a silver ribbon tied in a bow around the stem.

She was just barely to her seat before her sister was called. “Raven Alice Kazansky-Fischer.” Mouse, as her nickname suggests, shyly took the stage and did the same as the many students before her.

Seeing her older sister cause chaos, just like her mother and aunt would’ve done, decided to also do something.

So, with a half-assed plan created, she slid down the bannister and almost fell on her face.

Amanda Kerner was known for being clumsy, often falling over her own feet, so why would today be any different.

“Amanda Louise Kerner.” She stood up and started to make her way to the stage, glancing up into the bleachers to find her family. Once she did, she gave a small smile and held her head up high.

When she was on the last step she missed and almost fell flat on her face, but at the last second saved herself.

Amanda started to laugh and her face heated up a little embarrassed about the whole thing as she walked up to the Principal and copy the hundreds before her.

After she had her carnation in hand, made her way back to her seat as the next student was announced.

The three girls scooted the chairs closer and held hands again, this time their achievements in the other as they all waited for the rest of the students to be called.

Ron and Jade both could see her body move with giggles and her face flushed a light pink as their daughter took the diploma.

Tom lightly smacked Ron’s shoulder as he laughed at his niece.

The Kerner parents have no idea where their daughter’s clumsiness comes from, both steady on land and in air, but they always had a good laugh about it.

Often making jokes and sharing the moments with Tom and Rachael.

Both couples did this with their children and the hilarious memories that would forever be remembered.

It only took seconds before the laughter turned into tears as they cheered or whistled for their children.

Proud was not the word that could describe this experience, because they all felt like that wasn’t the right one to use.

Both couples felt more than proud for their children, but didn’t know if there was a word to explain how much.

After the last student was called, another speech was made and then the Principal said the sentence that the girls and the couples were waiting for, “Please give a round of applause for the graduating class of 2017! You may move the tassel from the right to the left!”

One by one starting from the closest to the stage, all the lines of students started to exit and were free to find their families.

Ron, being the tall giraffe man that he is, spotted the girls first and guided the others to the recent graduates.

He didn’t wait for his daughter to see him, immediately pulling her into a bear hug and squeezing tighter when he feels her jump, a chuckle vibrates through his chest.

He knows that she realizes who it is after the chuckle, and turns around in his arms to hug him back.

Jade joins not too long afterwards, wanting the father and daughter to have a moment just for them.

Soon Ron lets go for the same reason as his wife, a special moment shared between a mother and a daughter.

More tears are shed as the embrace continues before Jade eventually brakes it, too choked up for words.

Ron stands in front of his little baby, tears gathering at his eyes as he looks at her in the Navy Dress Blues and sees a younger version of her mother.

He lightly punches her chin and whispers, “Here’s looking at you kid.” Amanda sniffles, tears threatening to fall again as she softly punches his chest, “Here’s looking at you dad.”

Ron pulls her into another hug, wanting this moment to freeze in time.

The Kazansky’s are too lost in their own little world to pay attention to the Kerner’s.

Baylie, the daddy’s girl she is, runs to Tom first. His callsign might be ‘Iceman’ but right now, his ice cold persona is gone for his beautiful daughters.

He pulls away slightly and kisses her forehead, “Come home to me, Bay.”

Baylie reaches up to her father’s forehead barely in her tippy-toes, gives him a soft head-butt and whispers back, “Always.”

He doesn’t stop the tears, nor would he want to. Both crying freely as they hug each other tight.

“You’re tarnishing the Iceman name, you know.” She chuckles.

“Right now Bay, I could care less about that, not while I have you in my arms.”

A short amount of time passes before Raven is in his arms.

“Keep me in your heart,” Tom murmurs into her hair.

“Keep me in your mind,” Raven replied into his chest as she squeezed him impossibly tight, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He doesn’t want to ever let go, so blessed to have a moment like this to share and remember as the years go by.

He never thought he’d get to experience his children’s birth, so he was beyond happy to see them graduate.

Rachael lays her cheek against Raven’s head as the two hug, tears falling from her eyes to the young woman’s hair.

Raven was in no better shape than her mother, tears running down her face as they hugged.

After a couple of minutes went by, seeing that Bay and Tom were finishing their little father-daughter moment, she reluctantly let go. “I’m beyond proud of you my little Mouse.” “I’m proud to be your daughter, biological or not.”

Rachael couldn’t hold the gates and started to cry again, but soon was hugged by her eldest. “You know that we’ll always be your little girls right?”

Rachael petted Bay’s hair, followed by a kiss, “I know, I know. It’s just hard to believe that our babies are so grown up.”

Bay didn’t respond, just squeezed her tighter. All the words needed exchanged between them through the embrace.

The memory etched into her minds eye forever.

Individual family moments over, the two families came together and celebrated the girls’ graduation with hugs and ‘I’m so proud of you’s.’

They all took turns taking pictures of each families before asking someone passing by to take a group.

With that done, they all hopped into their cars and headed over to Top Gun where their Aunts and Uncles were gathered and ready to see the Graduates.

When they arrived they were all bombarded with open arms, food and drinks, and ‘congratulations!’

The girls could tell by the warmth and smiles that these strong and brave men and women they’ve known their whole lives were just as proud as their parents.

The girls knew that their support system was always going to be there for every accomplishment they go through and couldn’t be more happy by that fact.

And as the years go by, more and more memories were created and photographed so they could all look back and relive the moments and the feelings they all shared.

Birdie’s Basket🧺: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list:

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chrrywvea · 2 years

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okay top gun but it's halloween party time🎃

'86 group!

the costumes:

mav : vampire (i am fully going with "interview with the vampire" on this one) the fangs stay on the WHOLE party even though he is struggling with the snacks

ice : a very disgruntled frankenstein (but he slays it 100%). the mood gets slightly better as he watches mav curse over the green face paint aaaaall over his hands after having painted him. a smol vampire stumbling around their living room while simultaneously having a slight lisp because of the fake fangs is a funny sight indeed.

goose + carole : all the couple costumes, oh my god. carole has doooozens of spares.

princess peach & mario? check, definitely goose's favorite. baby brad tumbling about as yoshi♡_♡

johnny & baby? goose absolutely practices the lift with mav, who ends up with quite a few bruises. he gets a lot of beers & a drive home, but, if he's honest, he'll do anything for his best friends anyway.

that halloween ends with a very happy carole. ideas for bradley?

gomez and morticia addams? double check. the white face paint required a triple wash but they SLAYED that. bradley as pugsley is the vibe<<3 carole has a secret dealer for the best halloween wigs.

slider : this man is not at ALL for halloween. nope. not happening. ice manages to convince him with the promise of good food and a lotta booze. surprisingly, he even comes in costume! as a secret nerd (which i see him as) we are gonna get batman.

...

or he-man?

that would be for the kids-free party°○°

mav almost faints when he walks in with that and ice laughs so hard he has tears streaming down his face. the rest of the class is just impressed honestly, it's not bad! not to mention that he doesn't need the muscle suit...

wolfman & hollywood: PARTNER OUTFITS!

mean girls? that was a bet they lost to slider... them legs were fiiiine in those skirts.

buzz and woody!<3 they argue for hours on who's who & end up with wolf as buzz and hollywood as woody👀

the twins from the shining, they chose that themselves and NO ONE knows why.

ghostbusters! best partner outfit of that year, they all had to admit it.

listen i did not think about the timelines when which movie came out😆 this is chaos.

enjoy<3

part 2?

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callsignthirsty · 2 years

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Stuck in the Middle — Chapter 1 — Slider

Co-written with a friend who isn't on tumblr. Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x F!Reader (this chapter), Ron “Slider” Kerner x Reader x Tom “Iceman” Kazansky (overall) Summary: The one where Maverick’s sister is on a mission to give her brother a heart attack by sleeping with not one, but two of his colleagues. Word Count: 3500 Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex, dirty talk Chapter: 1/3 Minors DNI

You'd been looking forward to a low-key evening with your brother and Goose. That, however, wasn't in the cards. Not because chaos followed Pete "Maverick" Mitchell like a shadow — though god knew it did.

But because all Mitchells had a bad habit of making a mess of things.

It started innocently enough: Goose reaching the door first and holding it open for Pete with a teasing "After you, honey."

"Thanks, dear." Your night began as most nights in Miramar had: the three of you out for a drink and a good laugh.

But this night isn't most nights. Unfortunately, you don't realize this until it's too late.

Pete has already led your small group to the bar when you hear it — or, rather, them — across the way. Pete and Goose aren't the only pilots at the bar, and while they've been known to get rowdy and start a sing-along or two, they're far from the loudest tonight. No, that pleasure goes to Hollywood and Wolfman, who seemingly have tone on Iceman and Slider. In and of itself, this isn't a bad thing until you hear them over the crowd while Goose flags down the bartender.

"Hey Tom," Hollywood greets Ice with a shit-eating grin. Eyes sparkling mischievously in the low light.

"What're you on about, 'Wood?" Ice doesn't skip a beat at the use of his given name.

Hollywood guffaws as if it should be obvious, but Ice's expression doesn't change.

"Oh, come on, man," Wolfman says, leaning in to slap a hand on Ice's shoulder. "The screamer." Slider nearly sprays his drink across the bar's lacquered wood, but Ice has gone completely still. The blood drains from your face as Hollywood and Wolfman's giggles increase in intensity until they're flat-out laughing, Hollywood wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. “Oh man, Slider,” Wolfman gasps. "You're lucky you were out on that date, 'cause man…."

Hollywood closes his eyes, free hand petting his own chest. "Oh, Tom!"

"Ah! Ah!" Wolfman tosses his head back and moans alongside his friend, and you're pretty sure that this is how you die. Of mortification. Cheeks cherry red and hot with the shame of not just being caught but watching as Hollywood and Wolfman loudly and clearly reenact what you'd thought had been a private moment just feet from you.

It doesn't stop there, though. Beside you, Pete scoffs. "Who the fuck would want to sleep with him?"

"Good one, Mav," Goose chuckles.

And you could've lived with just that: an awful imitation of your moans acted out before you, but it had to be worse. Ice's eyes find yours, holding your gaze for a second too long from across the bar as Hollywood let out another oblivious "Tom, oh god! Fuck me!"

And your brother, only ever paying attention when you wish he wouldn't, catches the exchange alongside your flushed cheeks.

"Ooooh! Yeah!"

Pete's smile falls. Shoulders rigid. Goose is stuck looking between you, Ice, and Pete at the sudden shift. "Oh shit."

Pete's the first one to move, and you're the next, catching his sleeve as he moves to abandon his drink. "Pete, don't."

"I'm just going to talk with him."

Of course, he isn't, but he manages to shake free from your tenuous grasp. "Pete!" you call after him, but it's no use.

"Hey," Pete seethes. "Kazansky!"

"Nick, do something," you plead.

"There're better men out there," Goose says, taking a lazy sip of his beer as he tracks Pete across the bar. "I'm kinda with Mav on this one." Because Goose is like your big brother, too, and has been for years.

"Mitchell." Ice's cold acknowledgment brings your focus back to the problem at hand. Your eyes meet Slider's over Ice's shoulder, but he only offers you a slight shrug. It must look like their typical posturing bullshit from where he's sitting. You try to warn him with a wide-eyed shake of your head, but you're too late.

"You want to explain this one to me?" Pete is doing his best to puff up and be intimidating while he gets in Ice's face, but it's not working if Ice's signature stoicism is anything to go by.

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You want to run that one by me again?"

That's more aggressive than Pete typically gets, and the others have begun to pick up on it. "Mav, what's goi–"

"Stay out of this, Hollywood." Hollywood's hands go up at his sides, and he steps back in surrender.

Ice sips his beer, cool and calm as ever. "If you have something to say, spit it out. I'm not a mind reader."

"You trying to pick up my sister?" The question freezes you in place, breath held and eyes wide. Helpless as Ice's facade cracks, and he smirks down at your brother, and had the circumstances been different, you'd have wanted to kiss it off of him — are still half-tempted to do so.

"Well, I wouldn't say trying."

Goose rushes to intervene when Pete reels back and punches Ice in the jaw. You jump from your stool, but you're moving through molasses, each step heavy and impossibly slow. Before you make it much further than your table, you're intercepted. A big hand on your lower back steers you from the fight with a calm casualness that manages to fly under the radar of the group scuffling in the corner.

Despite his size, Slider can be discrete when he wants to be.

"Ron, where are we going?" you ask once he's successfully guided you out of the bar and into the parking lot. "What about Tom?"

Undeterred, Slider rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumb, and you melt a little at the touch. But shouldn't he be helping Ice? Shouldn't you both? Instead, he leads you toward the back of the lot where The O's lights don't quite reach, and cars are lit by nothing but the dying oranges of the Sun setting over the ocean.

"Ice's a big boy. He can handle himself." You push Slider's shoulder playfully. Logically, you know that Slider's right, but that doesn't stop your mind from racing. So preoccupied with worrying about Ice and your brother, you're only half paying attention when you make it to Slider's car. Still, you smile when he crowds against you. "It's a good thing they didn't stick around," he whispers into your ear, and you shiver as your back presses into sun-warmed metal, "because Ice's name wasn't the only one you were screaming last night."

The ghost of his hot breath over your ear makes your cheeks dust pink, hands subconsciously rising to clasp at his broad shoulders as your eyes slip closed. It's true. The burn of their phantom touch is still hot beneath your skin. The push and pull. The thrill of being caught between the two of them. Ice and Slider. Slider and Ice. Taking turns to reduce your mind to mush and carry your body to new highs. Your thighs clench as an all too familiar ache makes itself known at your center.

Pete had been the furthest thing from your mind, then. And Slider's doing his best to keep your mind off him now, too.

Lips skim down your neck to leave an open-mouthed kiss over your pulse. "Ron," you gasp, pulling him closer even as you know you should be coming up with an excuse that'll bring you back to the bar. Back to help Ice. He's taking more than his fair share of Pete's anger — half of it should be aimed at Slider.

But he's too distracting as he presses himself against you, cages you against the side of his car with his hips, the door handle poking into your thigh as he ruts once, twice against you. You should not be horny — Ice just admitted to having fucked you in front of an entire bar full of strangers, his friends, and your brother a minute ago. A brother that he was currently at blows with over you. That thought, however, disappears from your mind as Slider knots his hand in your hair and pulls hard enough for you to whimper. He rewards your little noise by promptly parting your legs with his knee and pressing the meat of his thigh against your core.

And fuck, you should go back and tell Pete you're old enough to make your own decisions or make Ice promise not to actively try to give your brother a heart attack. But Slider is doing his damnedest to make sure you aren't thinking of anything that isn't him or this moment against his Trans Am. And he's everywhere: claiming your lips in a heated kiss, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other glued to your hip, thigh tensing against your clit, and his dick evident even behind his trousers as he presses it against you.

Slider sparks something deep within you, and you moan. Experience tells you the heat from his touch won't stop until it consumes you.

"Come on," he husks. "When am I going to get another chance to have you all to myself?" And your resolve crumbles at the question. Because in all the time you've been with the two of them, you've never had either alone.

"Where?"

A smile curls along your collarbone and disappears with a nip. "You're leaning on her."

You give him a gentle push back, craning your neck to give the Pontiac a disbelieving look. Slider barely fits in the driver's seat. Big man, big ego, small sports car. "You can't be serious."

"You don't want your brother to find out, do you?" he asks, arms circling you, holding you close while one of his hands finds the door handle. "It'd be suspicious if we both disappeared." He has a point there. Besides, where else could you go? The ladies' room? The men's? At least if you stay in the parking lot, the two of you have a chance at sneaking back inside before anyone notices you're gone — you'd just have to hope they were too caught up in the brawl to realize you were gone in the first place.

"Guess we'll have to be quick, then," you say before Slider kisses the smile off your lips. His approval a hum as he licks into your mouth. "You gonna let me in, or what?" Slider pulls back reluctantly, tugging you along with him so he can open the door. "What a gentleman," you taunt, bending to reach for the lever that will move the driver's seat forward and allow you to crawl into the back. You squeak when a hand lands on your ass, head thunking against the padded ceiling.

"We both know that's a load of crap," Slider growls, hands on your sides as he encourages you to climb into the coupe faster. He squeezes into the backseat with you and pulls the car door shut. It's a tight fit, but you like how he's pressed against you, manhandling you into his lap as your hands rake through his hair and his chapped lips find yours.

A hand caresses your thigh, bringing the hem of your sundress up with it until the loose fabric is bunched around your hip. You shiver into Slider's touch, melt into his lap and demanding lips and give your hips a torturous roll, revel in the way his breath hitches as you continue to move. Fingers clumsily undo his buttons so you can ruck up his undershirt and get your hands on more of him. Neither of you can fully undress, even under cover of dusk, but you'll greedily take everything you can — hands splayed low across his abs as they flex to bring his hips up into yours.

It takes some finagling to get your panties off while you remain on his lap. Slider gives it an honest go as you busy yourself with his belt, but you switch when neither of you can make it far with the other in your way. When your panties slip free of your legs in one piece, Slider's lips are pressed to the hollow of your throat — fingers brushing the strap of your dress aside so he can suck none-too-gently at the newly revealed skin. "No marks," you remind him with a gasp. The air in the car is stale: humid and heavy with the growing scent of sex. And you wish you could crack a window open, but Slider popped for fancy power windows.

Slider takes this moment to slip a finger into your slick folds, humming as the second follows closely after. He sucks at the spot again, perhaps hoping you'll have forgotten about the conquest of his lips and teeth with the stretch of your pussy around two of his thick fingers. No such luck. You cuff him on the back of the head, and he grunts. Caught.

"No marks." This time, he concedes with a gentle lick that is as close to an apology as you're sure you'll ever get from the RIO.

As Slider's fingers continue to spark pleasure all along your nerves, you do your best to get your hand around him, but the position is awkward at best, and your wrist is on fire from the strain. That doesn't matter, though, because Slider is more making sure that you're ready for him than he's trying to get you off before the main event.

The last rays of the Sun's light are just about to dip beneath the horizon, and the clock is ticking.

"Come here," Slider all but growls, but you aren't sure where to go — you're already in his lap — until his hand knocks yours free of his cock and fingers slick with your arousal begin to trail along the crease of your thigh and hip. With a pathetic nod, you hunch over to avoid hitting the car's low roof as Slider moves you until you're exactly where he wants you. The thick tip of his cock kisses your cunt before he pulls you down. You press a lewd kiss to his thundering pulse to hide your moan against sweat-slick muscle, hot breath puffing against even hotter skin.

Condensation drips from the fogged window like sweat beading along your skin. Nails digging for purchase beneath Slider's shirt but sliding uselessly across toned muscles. Each breath feels like a chore even before he starts to move, the air thick — stale with humidity and toe-curling want. Desperation. Maybe no one will see you, but god, they'll be able to smell the sex on you when you get back.

"Gonna make me do all the work?" Not that he could, given the limitations of the backseat, but the taunt is enough to set you into motion. Rise and fall, the thin cotton of your dress sticking to your thighs and doing nothing to mask the wet clap of skin against skin from reverberating off the glass. Slider's head tips back, missing the headrest to thunk against the angled rear window as the car rocks with you.

"You okay?" you pant, kissing his head where it's pink and dewy from the glass.

Big hands tighten around your hips. "Better than," Slider says as he plants his feet and thrusts. The overenthusiastic movement tosses you into the ceiling once again.

"Hey, watch it!" you hiss even as pleasure courses through your veins from the rough treatment.

"Can't sit still." As if to prove his point, Slider grinds into you, his hips picking up a pace different from the one you'd set and shallowly thrusting. It's good, but it isn't enough for either of you. "This isn't working."

"You think?"

Slider just levels you with a look. "Get out of the car."

"Excuse me?" You reel back as if he's slapped you.

"Get out of the car. This isn't working."

"You mean to tell me," you say, still seated on his lap, "that we crammed into the back of your stupid small car and got all sweaty, and you're just giving up?"

He shifts forward so that his cheek drags against yours and speaks directly into your ear. "Do you want to cum or not?" You nod, shivering at the drag of incoming stubble against your smooth skin. "I thought so." Sharp teeth pinch at your lobe, and you suck in a breath. "Get out of the car."

You groan when you rise off Slider's lap, clenching around nothing as you reach for the door handle. And as much as you miss the feeling of Slider inside of you, nothing comes close to the bliss that is the gentle San Diego breeze on your slick temples. Until Slider bends you over the hood of his car, lifts your skirt, and shoves home.

"Ron," you keen, back arching.

"I know," he husks, one hand next to you against the cherry red paint, the other holding your skirt out of the way against your lower back. "But you've gotta stay quiet. Don't want anyone to hear those pretty noises. That's how we got into this mess."

That's the other thing about Mitchells: you don't usually know when to keep your mouths shut. You bite your lip as Slider picks up a ruthless pace just to be careful. Shiver as pleasure jolts along your spine and the sea breeze cools your sweat. You tingle with the sharp chill of contrasting sensation.

It doesn't take long to get either of you to the edge. Unable to express your pleasure verbally, you drive your hips back into Slider's aided by the rhythmic sway of the shock absorbers.

Letting go of your dress, Slider drops to his elbows and stretches over you. "Where?" And typically, you'd have an answer for that, but realistically there's nowhere he can finish that won't be immediately noticeable.

Except.

"Inside." You're on the pill, so it shouldn't be an issue.

Slider's hips stutter in surprise, and he lets out a low moan. "Oh, fuck!" Now, who's going to get you both caught?

A hand slips beneath your hips, greedy fingers pinching and circling your clit until your eyes roll back, and it's all you can do to make sure you aren't screaming while you shudder and whine on his cock, a warmth blooming within you as Slider's hips snap against your ass once, twice, and still.

With a gentle pat on the hip and a satisfied sigh, Slider withdraws. When you turn around, flattening your skirt, he's already tucked himself back into his pants and is working on his shirt buttons. You rock up onto your toes and give him a lazy kiss. "You should go home," he says.

"What? No. That would be suspicious."

"No," he stops you. "It would be suspicious if we both left. But baby, you look completely fucked out. If you walk back into that bar, there's no way Mitchell isn't going to know exactly what happened." You gape at him and turn to the car to catch a glimpse of your reflection in the windows, but the lights don't reach this part of the parking lot, so you'll have to rely on Slider's word. Then you feel a thick ooze between your thighs, and you know you can't face your brother like this. "If he asks, just tell him you were embarrassed and went home."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

And that's a stupid question, isn't it? You're not the only one who looks disheveled or smells like sex. But you have to admit that between the spiked hair and the tuck of his shirt, Slider does look somewhat… normal. You wrinkle your nose. "You stink."

"And who the hell do you think is going to come around and take a sniff?" Certainly not Pete. After the fight, he'd probably spend the rest of the night across the bar from Ice if he and Goose didn't leave once it was over. Which left Hollywood, Wolfman, and Ice, but maybe Slider would want Ice to know.

"Fine," you concede, "Give me back my panties."

"What panties?" You give him a look because of course he wants to play dumb after having just fucked you: it's not the first time he's done this. You reach out a hand to his left pocket, trying to ignore his smirk as you fondle it but find nothing there. But when you reach for the right pocket, he stops you halfway. "How are you going to explain the cum dripping down your thigh to your brother, sweet cheeks? He was with your boyfriend all night."

"My boyfriend, huh?" you ask, rolling the term around on your tongue and cocking a hip. "You better hope he doesn't find out about this. My boyfriend, that is."

His eyes scrunch as he moves close enough to whisper into your ear: "Oh, I'm planning on it." He presses a kiss beside your lips and leans back, hand patting the right pocket of his service khakis. He'd have played it off as a farewell if anyone were to walk by.

Next Chapter

#top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #top gun 1986 #ron slider kerner #ron slider kerner x reader #ron slider kerner x f!reader #ron slider kerner smut #slider x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky x reader #slider smut #poor slider has like... no content #i'm fixing this #mitchell!reader #maverick's sister out on a mission to bone his rivals

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techs-feral-wife · 1 year

Text

mirshebs-meshla presents:

Scenes From The Havoc Marauder 1

The Bad Batch Plays Resident Evil 4

Summary: Everyone's favorite defective clones get their hands on a new game. Chaos ensues. [Canon Divergent (obviously)]

Content Warning: Mild descriptions of violence/gore(?). Mention of weapons (?). Brotherly bickering and light bullying.

A/N: This is just a funky lil idea I had while playing Resident Evil 4 and I thought we could all use some lighthearted fun. Pretty much spoiler free for those of you who have not played the game. Is it crack? maybe a little bit, but this idea has been haunting me for days. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I hope it makes y'all smile. Tags: @techtalksfics

The Havoc Marauder was docked in a sleepy spaceport on an equally sleepy outer rim planet. The sun shone brightly overhead. All was quiet and peaceful. Well, outside of the Marauder at least…

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“C’mon Tech!” A voice boomed from within the ship’s hold. Wrecker sat square in the middle of a grubby old couch, watching impatiently as Tech fiddled with the device in his hands. “Hurry up will ya? You’ve been at this forever”

“That statement is factually incorrect,” Tech said flatly. “Now, if you would stop complaining and allow me to work I would finish much faster.” Tech moved the analog sticks this way and that, adjusting sliders and calibrating settings until they were what he deemed ‘optimal’.

“Is he still fiddling?” Echo entered the makeshift living room clutching a bowl of what looked to be homemade Mantell Mix if you squint hard enough. He made his way over to the couch, stepping over the rat’s nest of cables that covered the floor of the hold. Their gaming setup was rigged quite precariously. One misstep, one snagged wire, and it would all come crumbling down.

“Optimizing,” Tech said, the slightest hint of annoyance coloring his tone. “and I am almost finished.”

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Wrecker groaned through a mouthful of “Mantell Mix”. He’d shoved his hand into the bowl the second Echo sat down, spilling a considerable amount into his brother’s lap. Wrecker coughed and sputtered, grimacing at the flavors that assaulted his tongue. “Tha’ tastes terrible,”

The glare Echo shot his brother could’ve cut glass.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” Was all he said, brows furrowed and arms wrapped protectively around the bowl. This was the last time he’d try doing something nice for Wrecker. He leaned his body hard into the couch’s heavily stained arm when the large clone inevitably went for another handful. “Get your own! And scoot over, will ya? Other people have to sit here too.”

“Careful Wrecker,” A smug voice called from the shadows. “You’ve activated mom mode.”

Crosshair draped himself over the back of the couch, meeting Echo’s glare with a satisfied smirk. The ex-ARC trooper huffed.

“You’re lucky I’m not your mother, you’d all be grounded indefinitely.” Wrecker clapped Echo on the back, spilling even more of the mix onto the floor.

“HA! I’d like to see you try,” Wrecker laughed. Echo’s glare turned into a pout as he hugged the bowl closer to his chest. He opened his mouth to scold Wrecker, but was cut off when Tech cleared his throat.

“If you are quite finished, we are ready to begin.”

“FINALLY”

Tech managed to squeeze in beside Wrecker on the small couch. He was still amazed that they had actually managed to fit this particular piece of furniture in here, though Wrecker always had a knack for cramming useless items into the Marauder. Tech pressed the ‘x’ button on the controller to confirm his newly optimized settings and the game’s title flashed across the holoscreen before them.

Resident Evil 4

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Get in here, Hunter! You’re missin’ all the action!” Wrecker called, bouncing with excitement as Tech maneuvered the player character through the twisted ruins of a dilapidated farmhouse.

“I do not believe that this domicile can be deemed liveable,” Tech remarked as he examined what looked to be a simmering pot of rotted offal. Echo scoffed, eyes scanning over the wires, junk, and literally garbage littered about the ship. Don’t even get him started on the smell.

Hunter made his way out from the cockpit just in time to hear Wrecker scream as a hostile took hold of Leon. Unfazed, Tech began rapidly pressing buttons in a sequence that ended with a hunting knife lodged in his assailant’s neck.

Hunter swiped a hand over his face and sighed. He could feel the beginnings of a headache pressing against his skull, but he was determined to spend some quality time with his brothers. This was going to be a long day.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“We should probably get the scope.” Echo suggests as the brothers bickered over the merchant's wares.

“Don’t waste your money,” Crosshair said through his toothpick. As if to prove a point, he plucked the small sliver of wood and flicked it away. It bounced off two walls and Wreckers forehead before landing in the garbage bin that Echo didn’t even know they had.

“More storage space would be quite useful given that Wrecker insists on picking up every explosive he comes across,” Tech stated, casting a pointed side eye at his largest brother.

“Hey! We need the ammo!” Wrecker defended, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Maybe if you were a better shot,” Crosshair snarked from his perch at the back of the couch.

“I’d like to see you do better” Wrecker was pouting now, craning his neck to glare at Crosshair.

“Hand over the controller then, di’kut,”

“Play nice you two,” Echo warned from beside Wrecker. His bowl of mix had long since been emptied, but he still held it tightly in his lap.

“Yes mom,” Wrecker and Crosshair sang in unison, causing Echo to scowl.

“OOO! We should get the treasure map!” Omega called out excitedly, emerging from her hiding spot beside the couch to try and wrench the controller from Tech’s hands. The goggled clone lifted the controller out of her reach with ease, looking mildly offended at the attempt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hunter called out, placing a hand on her shoulder to still her. “You shouldn’t be here. This game is too scary for you.” Dad mode: Activated.

“Aw, but Wrecker said I could,” Omega whined.

“Yeah! S’not tha’ scary.”

“Says the one who's been cowering behind Lula the whole time.”

“You leave Lula outta this!” Wrecker cradled his beloved tooka plushie close to his chest.

“I thought I told you two to play nice.”

“Sorry mom”

“S T O P calling me that!” Echo gave yet another exasperated huff and went back to watching the screen. Tech was silently examining the weapon upgrades, trying to determine which to expend their very limited funds on. “Besides, Hunter’s right, Omega. This game is rated M for Mature.”

“Wrecker should definitely not be here then” Tech remarked, eyes still glued to the screen.

“HEY”

“Please Hunter,” Omega begged, drawing out her vowels as she looked at the ex-sergeant with the biggest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Fine,” Hunter sighed. Echo rolled his eyes and shook his head. His brother never could say no to Omega.

“Pushover”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Wait, go back!”

“No, not that way!”

“You missed a crate back there!”

“I think I see something on the ceiling!”

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT GUY ON YOUR LEFT!”

The gaming controller was not exactly scomp friendly, so Echo had been forced to take a back seat on this activity.

“It's for the best, '' Crosshair had joked. “I always heard the Regs were terrible shots.”

“You want to test that theory out for yourself” Echo had challenged, chest puffed with pride and shoulders squared. Crosshairs smirk widened, eyebrows quirked with intrigue.

“I’d love to-”

“No!” Hunter barked, and that had been the end of it.

Echo had resolved to make the best of a bad situation. Just because he was in the backseat didn’t mean he couldn’t be useful, right? It had begun innocently enough. He would occasionally call out something his brothers had missed or warn them of a hidden enemy. But as the session dragged on, Echo’s “help” had become marginally less helpful.

“You’re supposed to shoot those ones in the head,” Echo remarked as the ‘You Are Dead’ screen flashed up for what felt like the hundredth time this session. That simple phrase had seemingly been the last straw for Tech.

“Echo, if you do not cease your backseat gaming, I will stun you.” Tech threatened, pressing the continue button with more force than was necessary.

“Just tryna be helpful,” Echo grumbled, slumping back against the couch.

“And while the occasional assistance is appreciated, you do not need to tell me how to play the game. I am well aware,”

“Well maybe if you played better-”

“Do not start with me, Wrecker,”

They carried on in silence for several minutes until the death screen inevitably reappeared before them.

“You didn’t shoot him in the head,”

Hunter wordlessly gripped Tech by the shoulder and shoved him firmly back down on the couch before he could reach for his blaster.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“I told you we should’ve bought the scope,” Echo tutted as both Tech and Wrecker struggled to take down an enemy manning a turret.

“No need,” Crosshair scoffed as a pair of long spindly legs crested over the back of the couch and shimmied between Wrecker and Tech. “Move over losers, it’s Crosshair’s time to shine,”

Cross took the controller from his brother’s hand. The room went silent as he lined up the shot…

And it erupted in raucous laughter when he promptly missed.

“Nice shot, Cross,” Wrecker cackled, wiping a tear from his eye. Crosshair scowled and Hunter quickly ripped the controller from Crosshair’s hands before he could bludgeon Wrecker with it. The sniper was fuming and resigned himself to sulking in the background for the rest of the evening, all the while muttering about poorly designed game mechanics.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Hello, Beautiful,” Wrecker leaned forward towards the holoscreen. A goofy grin spread across his face and his eyes sparkled at the sight before him. Wrecker was so excited that he was practically drooling over the latest addition to the merchant’s stock: a kriffin’ rocket launcher! In Wrecker’s mind, this game just got a thousand times better. “Oh yeah! Now tha’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

“There is no room for that in our inventory,” Tech announced, quickly quelling his brother’s excitement as he resumed scrolling through the merchant’s wares for a more pragmatic purchase.

“I’ll make room,” Wrecker moved to snatch the controller from Tech. The attempt was easily avoided; it had become such a regular occurrence during this session of gaming that Tech had begun to do it on instinct and it was beginning to get on his nerves if he was being completely honest.

“We do not need a rocket launcher. And besides, we can’t afford it.” At 30,000 pesetas, the rocket launcher sat well out of their limited budget, and that was before the upgrades and repairs that needed to be made to their arsenal.

“Sell some of those health sprays then,” Wrecker grumbled, still determined to get that rocket launcher. His habit for making impulse purchases was exactly why he was no longer allowed to hold the controller when they approached the merchant. “Who needs five health sprays anyway?”

“You do,” Tech stated matter-of-factly, adjusting his goggles so that he could better read the item descriptions before continuing. “Seeing as you refuse to take anything less than significant damage whenever you are in control. However I do not understand the logic behind the first aid sprays. Given the type of injuries we sustain simply spraying-”

“I do not!” Wrecker spat, ignoring Tech’s ramblings and cutting him off before he could delve any further into the medical inaccuracies of a fictional world.

“You walked into three consecutive bear traps and a tripwire on your last turn, vod,” Echo recounted. With nothing to do other than spectate, Echo began keeping track of his brothers’ fumblings, but kept them mostly to himself to avoid being stunned.

“‘S’not my fault I couldn't see ‘em’” Wrecker grumbled. “We had to adjust the brightness so someone could see the screen.”

“My eyesight is not to blame for your lack of skill.”

“Why you-”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The sun had long since slipped below the horizon, and the night carries on in much the same fashion as the day, both within the Marauder as well as without. The stars shone brilliantly overhead. The night was still, the quiet punctuated only by the bickering and booming laughter that echoed against the durasteel walls from within the modified attack shuttle.

Whenever the boys inevitably ran out of ammunition, they passed the controller to Hunter to melee’d his way through wave after wave of infected hostiles almost entirely unscathed. He managed to defeat one of the bosses armed with nothing but a hunting knife and a single green herb (Wrecker had depleted their stock of health items in record time).

“You brought a gun to a knife fight, osi’kovid,” Hunter muttered as he slashed wildly at a rather large man with a gatling gun. “Ne shab’rud’ni!”

Echo tried to cover Omega��s ears, silently cursing the fact that he only had one good hand. His Mom Mode had been thrown into overdrive.

“LANGUAGE!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The crew of the havoc marauder had no idea how much time had passed since they’d begun, too engrossed in the game to get up for anything more than a quick trip to the ‘fresher.

The session however came to a very abrupt end when Hunter had finally grown so fed up with all his brothers’ bickering and threatened to fully unplug the console from the power source. Gonky honked nervously at the threat and the group sat in dead silence as Tech quickly made his way to a save point.

#bad batch fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #star wars tbb #hunter #tech #echo #crosshair #wrecker #omega #max writes things

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