#I’m calling them the mystery squad

[glossglamour]

Full Robert Sean Leonard 'House'-a-palooza Interview: "As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina."

May 01 2006 | By Maureen Ryan

Do you watch the show much?

"I can't watch it. I mean, Hugh doesn't watch it because he's anal and … eight years old. [laughs] And by the way, I don’t buy it, I think he does watch it.

“I watched in the first year. We live in New York and [my fiancé] was in California] and she likes it because I’m on it. But then she left, she had to come back to New York, and what are you going to do? The idea of me watching myself on TV, alone in Santa Monica, was just about... just short of, like, a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shotgun away from shooting myself. [much laughter]  So I haven’t watched it all season. But when I have watched it, I’ve been mildly confused and Hugh is appropriately grumpy."

I have this theory that a lot of my favorite shows aren’t even about what they’re supposed to be about -- they have to be set in a hospital or police station or outer space or whatever because the network can market that, but they’re secretly not even about that. Like, “House” is really about ethics and morality.

“Yeah, sure, I think that’s true.”

But you can’t pitch that show to the network. “Hey, we have this great show that examines personal morality!"

“‘It’s based on “A View from the Bridge.”’

Right! They’re really going to for that.

“Yeah. [laughs] I think it’s good, and when it’s right, when the show works, the mystery works. It has a Sherlock Holmes-ian feel to it, and you do kind of want to know what’s wrong with [the patients]. And it is interesting, the turns and twists that get you there. And there’s always a little bit of character-driven fun stuff in between, of who these people are and how they affect each other. And that’s it at its best. And I guess that could be true of any show.

“It’s tricky, you’ve got a lead character [who’s different from the TV norm] and you’ve got to be careful because those characters can be one-note. He’s the cranky guy, he’s the Australian guy, I’m the friend in one or two scenes a week. You just have to be careful, and I think we are, we have a really great team of writers. And the numbers are building, people are watching.”

So this two-parter on May 2 and 3, I think the unofficial subtitle is the “Festival of Foreman.” I guess they’re his Emmy episodes, and that’s fine. But you’re hardly in them, what’s up with that?

“Honestly, I’m okay. I don’t want an Emmy. This is what I want -- I know exactly what I want. I did play with a guy named Skip Sudduth, ‘The Iceman Cometh,’ seven years ago. I saw him five years later, and I said, ‘Geez, Skip, where have you been? I don’t see you at readings anymore.’ He said, ‘I’ve been on “Third Watch.”’ It sounded familiar but I’d never seen it. He said, ‘I’ve been doing it for five years.’ I said, ‘Holy crap!’ And he was back doing theater. That’s my dream.

“And it’s happening. I walk down the street and people say, ‘Where are you?’ and I say, ‘I’m on this show called “House.”’ My friend Lewis Black [from 'The Daily Show'] said, ‘What is it called? “Head”?’

“I’m okay. I’ve never been happier than where my career is now. And I don’t want it to change necessarily. Money’s good, and I’m glad I’m getting that, and I’m putting it away for later in life when I do more Tom Stoppard plays at Lincoln Center and make no money. But really, I’m great. I don’t mind working two days a week.

“Because those other guys, the Scooby gang, or the Mod Squad -- they are at that studio for 16 hours a day saying ‘tachycardia, lupus, blablahdeblah.’ Honestly, I’d kill myself if  had to do those scenes for that long. I’m very happy with the size of my role, I don’t want it to get any bigger. I’m happy.”

So we won’t see the very special “House” episode where Dr. Wilson almost dies?

“That might be how I get off the show.” [laughs]

Well, you could die and come back as a ghost. Then it would be the “House Whisperer.”

“Yeah [laughs]. The hair makeup people were saying one day, ‘Oh, I love those scenes with you and Hugh, there should be more of that.’ And I’m like, ‘Shhh! Don’t say that!’ I’m the luckiest man in Hollywood. I work only with Hugh, pretty much, who’s great. And I work two days a week.”

Do you fly back and forth to New York then?

"No, not really. They don’t let me because they need me around, the schedule changes so much. I’m going to try to get away with that a little more [in the upcoming season]. Now that [my fiancé] is here, I really will kill myself if I’m out there as much as I was last year, without her.”

So five days a week you’re doing what – Botox injections? Going to the mall? Watching “Maury”?

“Rob Lowe once said the secret to being an actor in L.A. is sleeping as late as you possibly can and going to be as early as possible. I remember him saying, ‘I recommend pajamas by 4:30 p.m.’”

What’s interesting about this show is that they’re taken something that could be a very formulaic procedural and quite often turn it on its head.

“I didn’t know anything about TV, I’d never done [a TV show], but I now know very well that there are procedurals and character-driven shows. ‘Law & Order’ is a procedural and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is a character-driven show. The test [as to which category a show is in], someone once said to me, which I thought was hysterical, is this question: Did Sam Waterston sleep with [the assistant DA] on ‘Law & Order’? If the answer is ‘I don’t give a [hoot], I want to know the next element of the case,’ then it’s a procedural.

“Our show is weirdly, and there must be precedent for this, but it’s weirdly equally both. I think it’s very much a procedural, and without that sick patient every week, we wouldn’t work. And without the character stuff it wouldn’t work. And weirdly, people do care if House sleeps with one of our characters, and also care equally what’s wrong with this person and how they’re going to solve the case.”

I guess I like the character stuff better, but you’re right, it probably wouldn’t work without the suspense of the weekly case and somebody being critically ill.

“No, I think you need that. I think the echoes of Sherlock Holmes are too strong. The original idea of the show was House and Wilson, like Holmes and Watson. But it got away from that, and his team is Watson, if you want to be technical about it.

“I’m more like … the only way I’ve found to define it, and it’s so pretentious that it makes me want to jump out a window, is like King Lear’s fool. I’m like the only one who tells him the truth. And [Wilson] has nothing to lose. I don’t work for him and he doesn’t work for me. I’m the only character who chooses to be with him as opposed to being there because of a job. And because of that I have the freedom to tell him what I think. Not that Cuddy holds back much.”

I think her role is to say, "No! Bad House!"

“Have you talked to Lisa Edelstein [who plays Cuddy]? She’s so great. This Japanese woman once said to her, ‘You on “ER”!’ And she said, ‘I have been on “ER,” but now I’m on “House.”’ And [the woman says] ‘Oh yes, “House.” You say, “No, you don’t!”’ Every time we do the table read, I burst into laughter at some point, because there is the voice of that woman in my head, ‘You say “No, you don’t!”’ That’s the entire definition of Lisa’s character. Not completely, but we laugh [about it]. We have the same dilemma. We’re on this show that we’re … kind of on. Crew members say, ‘How long have you been on the show?’ ‘Uh, since the pilot.’ They really don’t know what we’re doing there.”

So in terms of the other stuff going on in your career, that’s going well, all the theater stuff?

“I’ve achieved everything I wanted to do. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Kevin Kline, Sam Waterston. I grew up watching the Public Theater and Shakespeare in the park and Marion Seldes. I mean, I may as well be gay.”

I’m not entirely sure you’re not.

[laughs] “But the thing is, I got it [i.e. his goals]. I’ve done 14 Broadway shows and got a Tony award, and now I’m making money and no one even really knows. I’m getting away with murder. If I come back to New York in two years and nothing’s changed, I’ll be thrilled. All I really want to do is [act in] plays, play with my dog, have kids. My desires are pretty simple. I don’t really want to do movies anymore. I’m pretty tired of camera acting.”

Why are you tired of camera acting? Is it the repetition of it?

“No, no, quite the opposite. We don’t rehearse enough. We do scenes where people barely know their lines, where people just about know their lines. In theater, you do it so many times and you get so familiar that then you can actually start having fun with it. And I really miss that feeling.

“It’s true of films too. I don’t know. I think I’m fine on film, but … I have walked offstage and thought, ‘Wow, no one has done that better. People may have done it as well, but not better.' I’ve actually had that feeling after ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night,’ or a Shaw play or whatever. I’ve never felt that way with film. I always feel like, ‘Boy, Donald Sutherland would have done that a lot better.’ [laughs] I just don’t think it’s what I do best. I think I’m fine, but there are people who are eerily good at it. In all humility, of which I have none [laughs], that’s how I feel about my work on stage. I really do feel that I’m gifted at it.”

Just to change gears completely, what happens in the finale?

“Well, I think the finale is a bit of a cliffhanger. Something very exciting happens. It’s extremely exciting and freaky and I think it’s great. I can’t say what it is. You end this season very curious about how the next season is going to start. It’s a great final show and a big cliffhanger.”

So it seems like Hugh Laurie is so disparaging of his own talents. But he’s so good as House.

“Some people ask me, ‘Oh, why does Wilson want to hang out with House so much?’ and I’m like, ‘You idiot.’ [laughs] House is designed to be attractive! He’s brilliant, he’s self-deprecating, he has a limp. But yeah, Hugh hates himself and he’s very funny about it.  There’s no better combination in my book. Like Lewis Black.”

But as an acting partner, he’s good to work with?

“Oh yeah. The thing is, with this part, Hugh has a huge obstacle he has to deal with, having an American accent. His problem isn’t our problem. We as the audience don’t have that problem, because what he doesn’t know is that he does it perfectly. But of course he doesn’t hear that. That’s why he can’t watch the show.

“When you’re doing an accent, you don’t feel like you’re interesting in the role. Even if everyone around is telling you that you are. And to be in a play is one thing, but to be on TV show that runs for years, I don’t know how he’s going to do it. To be that hard on yourself and be that disappointed in your own work. But as I said, and underline this four times, he’s wrong.”

And then he obviously hates when anyone calls him a sex symbol. You read his quotes when people ask him about that stuff and you can feel the embarrassment rising off the page.

“Yeah, he hates that stuff. And even more than the ‘sexy’ stuff, he hates the ‘you’re brilliant’ stuff. Of course there’s a part of him that likes him, there’s a part of all of us that likes that. [But him being hard on his performance], it’s not false vanity.

“I think Hugh does work he’s proud of and does work he thinks is good, I’m just not sure it’ll ever be this [show]. Having an accent… acting is letting go and forgetting yourself, it’s the opposite of ego. It’s flying away and getting away from yourself and forgetting. And when you’re doing an accent, it’s virtually impossible to do that.

“It’s hard when you're in a play, doing the same lines, the same way for eight months. Hugh learns 72 new lines a day and has to put an American accent on them. It really is an actor’s nightmare. I’ve done [with accents] Brian Friel plays, Martin Sherman plays, Tom Stoppard plays, and maybe five months into it you have a night where you kind of feel OK and kind of forget the accent and let go and let the scene happen. To have a strange accent in your mouth while playing a role, and then be judged for it, that’s hard stuff.

“And can I tell you, when you have dinner with Hugh Laurie [speaking in his real accent]… I miss that voice.”

Yeah. He called me once directly for an interview. I was expecting the publicist to put him through, but it was just that voice on the phone. I was sort of thrown for a minute.

“As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina.” [laughs]

---- [source (part 2)] | part 1 | part 3 ---

it took me two hours to track this interview down. it might be the longest one he's ever done. first i tracked it down to tumblr pages posting about it with no source please stop doing that. then i found a short youtube video of laurie saying "homina homina" on an snl skit i think and someone in the comments mentioned the site where the rsl interview was posted. however the site wouldn't let me in, i guess they took it down so i headed to archive dot org. i didn't have a specific link though so that didn't really work out either. then for nearly an hour i tried a wide range of word combinations on google until i stumbled upon a livejournal page of rpf hugh laurie/rsl fanfic. SOMEONE tysm karaokegal posted the exact link i was looking for in the comments. quick trip to the wayback machine and here you go!

i should be on those ethical hacking competition things

#house md #hatecrimes md #gg.txt #robert sean leonard #rsl #interview #source hunting success #hugh laurie #james wilson #gregory house #i nearly went insane #trying to find this thing #part 3 is an interview w katie jacobs #part 1 is general quotes #muted

[hwallazia]

WE KNOW

pairing: park seonghwa x fem! reader

word count: 1,3k

tags: mafia!au, angst? (if you squint), mob boss!seonghwa, undercover agent!reader, mentions of death (reader’s boyfriend), seonghwa threatens reader at the end (not this being necessarily a death threat).

synopsis: your boyfriend’s murder hurt you for so long. So you were going to do the impossible to revenge his death. One cold night, you meet the head of the responsables of your boyfriend’s death. You thought it would be a piece of cake but he was so much smarter that you. | PART TWO

| a/n: of course this is having a part 2 (I’ll eventually post it, I swear) which will contain smut. This is literally word vomit of my thoughts of mob boss! Seonghwa so I’m so sorry for the shortness of this!

You knew it, you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but your body tends to react faster than your own brain.

With your legs shaking and a lump forming in your throat, you stood in front of the majestic door of the 19-story building, knowing everything you were risking by even stepping on the ceramic floor of the hotel’s luxurious floor; your life and on the other hand your work, your boss had been more than clear that case 3498: “Park Seonghwa” would be handled by special forces and more trained and experienced strategists.

You still couldn’t fully understand why you were in front of the gates of hell of your own free will, but you simply couldn’t miss the opportunity to kill the heir of the ‘Wonderland’ cartel, his men being responsible for the death of your boyfriend, which happened a long time ago. More less two years.

When your squad leader announced that there was a possibility of finally destroying this cartel because of its leader’s murder, your eyes shone; you found hope along the way, after having gone through one full of desolation and tragedy.

That’s why you couldn’t just sit back and pretend that the case had never been mentioned. You decided to take matters into your own hands even when your boss explicitly told you to step aside.

And with a deep sigh, you walked into the hotel, the smell of wood and leather sofas filling your nostrils.

You analyzed the environment, noticing certain people casting their gaze on you. Without giving them much importance, you tried to locate your target.

You walked around the place, meeting many familiar faces and wondering where you knew them from; soon the answer came to your mind, they were people you saw, locked in your office —more like a pretty, decorated prison— in criminal records files. Some of them with quite compromising and illicit antecedents. But this wasn’t the time to think about those people.

Of all the people who were in the building, you had to locate one, which, by the way, you weren’t finding anywhere.

You headed to the elevator and pressed the button that had a downward arrow drawn on it. You waited patiently for the ‘ding’ to announce the arrival of the mechanism, and got on the elevator. Once on the floor you wanted to be, you walked down that hallway full of 2-4 person dining tables, until you finally found your target.

The only way you could attract him into your net was by seducing him, so you could make time to call the special forces. No matter how many lectures your boss gave you later, you could finally avenge the death of your beloved boyfriend.

You approached the mysterious man, your maroon dress shedding some of its fabric due to the slit in your right thigh, falling delicately to the floor. It hugged your anatomy, highlighting your exotic curves. Due to the non-accidental rip in your dress, your shiny white heels were on display. You felt beautiful, and you hoped that Mr. Park Seonghwa would fall for your charms as well.

Taking your dress by the sides, being careful not to step on it, you sat down without saying a word at the same table as the enemy. He somehow sensed a foreign presence, so he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting a companion tonight.” His voice made a delicious shiver run down your spine, straightening your back.

“No handsome man should spend the night alone.” Your feminine and captivating voice made him finally look up and fix his dark, solemn eyes on yours.

“Is that so? Since when?” He raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“Since today, darling.”

A small laugh escaped his lips as he lowered his head to hide the curve that had formed on his lips.

“Okay, doll. I’ll let us share this dinner together,” He straightened up, focusing all his attention on you, “Why, of all the people gathered here, did you decide to sit at my table?”

“Didn’t I say it already? I think you’re cute, so I decided to keep you company.”

“With what purpose?” He leaned over the table, resting his elbows on his sides.

Very good question, with what purpose had you taken the decision, and the courage, to sit at the same table as the devil? You couldn’t remember anything, it seemed like your mind went blank every time the man fixed his dark irises on you, and the fact that he was doing it right now wasn’t helping matters.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to arrest me…” Your blood suddenly ran cold. Your mind began to spin in search of a sensible answer. Your neurons were so busy thinking meticulously about the words you were going to say that you forgot how ridiculous and desperate you’d look in the process.

“No! Not at all… Nonono,” You let out the longest existing “ehhh” in the middle of your explanation. “My goal with you tonight is different and… personal.”

“Mhm... personal,” The word slid off his tongue dangerously. “Well, I’m dying to know what you’re planning on doing with me tonight.” A curved smile decorated his lips, weakening your legs.

You urgently wanted to change the direction of the conversation, and as if you had manifested it, the food arrived at your table. The waiter placed two plates of medium-rare steak in front of you as an appetizer and a bottle of champagne that he masterfully opened. The clear liquid from the bottle slid smoothly down your glass, bubbles adorning the top of it.

Food flooded your table as you kept a conversation with Seonghwa. It was strange but intriguing. Neither of you gave more information than necessary, both always staying on the edge. You didn’t know when, why, or how but you were both laughing. When you stopped, the gangster let out a sigh and then spoke to you.

“You’re very beautiful. Y’know?” Your cheeks turned a tender pink as you felt them burn. However, you decided to test him, looking at him lustfully, clearly with other intentions. Unfortunately, Seonghwa read you like an open book and rapidly recognized the game you were playing.

“Thanks, handsome. You’re very good-looking as we-”

“Too bad you’re an agent.”

What?

How was it possible? You didn’t give too much information, and you were cautious when speaking. So how the hell does he know you’re an agent? You stayed still in your seat, unable to formulate any excuses.

“Oh, darling. I’m the heir of the greatest mafia in Asia. Didn’t that tell you and your pretty little head something?”

Words simply chose not to slip out of your mouth. So you remained silent, looking down as if you were a just scolded six-year-old girl.

At that point, you didn’t know if you were scared or what, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. It was as if a deafening voice was ringing inside your head repeating ‘don’t. you. dare.’

“I’d love to have you around, I really mean it. You’re lovely. Maybe your head hanging on my coat rack can keep me company.” Seonghwa got up from his seat, going around the table to be face-to-face with you.

“Please, let’s talk rationally.” You naively tried to keep your voice from shaking, but it was impossible. You were terrified of what this man could do to you.

“Follow me, y/n.”

Fuck.

Now there was no way to deny the undeniable. He knew your name, probably your last name, your address, your blood type, and the name of your dog, why not?

Now you were really against a rock and a hard place.

He took your hand carelessly and practically dragged you to one of the countless hotel rooms, away from the crowd. He closed the door behind him and threw you on the bed brusquely.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you, I’m not as ruthless as my father.” You let out a sigh when you heard his words.

“But I am gon’ make you regret trying to arrest me, darling,” He walked towards you and leaned down so he could be face-to-face with you. His lips brushing dangerously against yours. You could see how a flame decorated his dark irises, “So much that you’re gonna wish you never had met me.”

| masterlist

#park seonghwa #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa imagines #ateez #ateez x reader #seonghwa scenarios #mob boss seonghwa #ateez x female reader #seonghwa x female reader

[whohasthecards]

Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)

Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.

The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game. 

By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick  to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.

“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.

“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.

“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.

He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.

“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.

“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.

Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.

“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.

Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”

Jake frowned at that.

“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.

“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”

“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”

“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”

Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.

“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”

“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”

It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”

Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.

“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”

“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”

“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”

He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.

“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.

“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging. 

“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around. 

“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.

“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”

Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

“Hmmm, 21?”

Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”

Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”

Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.

“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.

“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.

Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.

—

“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?” 

Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully. 

“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”

“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”

“Let me check with Ice.”

—

“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.

“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”

“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”

“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”

“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”

“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”

“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”

“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”

—

Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?

Sure, Jakey

—

Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.

Bradshaw was Nick’s son?

Is that why he was angry?

—

Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead. 

Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?

You can find out.

“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”

No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.

“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.

“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”

“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”

“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.

—

They’re alive.

He saved them.

Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.

A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.

Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

—

The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.

He felt his phone ping with a text.

Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.

Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.

—

“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!” 

It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.

“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh. 

“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.

Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.

“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.

“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.

Mav’s an ace.

“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.

Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”

Killing people.

No, not now.

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.

Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”

Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”

Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”

He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.

“Have plans, already, huh?”

“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”

Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”

Jail with Nick? What a joke.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”

“As if you can talk.”

—

Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Hangman?”

“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.

“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.

“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.

“It’s okay, pops–”

“How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.

“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.

“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”

“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.

“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.

“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.

“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.

Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago. 

“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”

“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”

“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.

“Baby brother-?”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”

“Ice?”

“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”

“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.

“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”

“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.

“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”

“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.

“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.

“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.

“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.

“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.

“What?” Jake said, confused.

“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.

—

“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”

#fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #parental nick goose bradshaw #cyclone and ice and the other flyboys are dads here too #i just like the thought of Jake being adopted and be given love #bradley is gonna be a big brother in this one #jake hangman seresin needs a hug

[susiephone]

i see your “the best way to adapt dracula would be a found footage horror movie” and raise you “the best way to adapt dracula would be a mockumentary that gradually turns into a found footage horror movie”

this includes (spoilers ahead for those of you going in blind, my friends from the discord server, THIS MEANS YOU):

dracula never being seen on camera

sometimes you hear him talking, or see things moving around as if someone’s there, but you never see him

no one notices this until mina is rewatching all of jonathan’s transylvania footage for clues and almost chokes on her latte when she sees jonathan having a conversation with the air

Jonathan, in an interview: So everyone’s been really friendly so far, but people get weird when I mention where I’m going. [holds up a handful of at least twenty rosaries and good luck charms] And I don’t know German for “no thank you, I’m Protestant,” so... Also, I tried to say no to this one woman and she cried and told me to at least call my mom one last time before I went to the castle. So that was weird. I tried to translate what some of them were saying, but all I have to work with is half a Duolingo course and Google Translate. They can’t possibly be saying “demon,” right? [Cut to another interview.] Local farmer, in German with captions: Oh, yeah, no, he’s gonna die for sure.

someone saying some straight nonsense, followed by mina and/or van helsing staring into the camera

a cheesy local commercial for the law firm jonathan works at

he’s in the commercial and he wishes he were dead

Mina, in an interview: So, my boyfriend Jonathan is on his first-ever business trip! He’s gone to Transylvania to handle this huge real estate deal with actual nobility. I’m super proud of him! [Cut to footage of Jonathan looking around Castle Dracula, growing increasingly unnerved, and then to a scene of Jonathan shaving before his mirror apparently throws itself off the counter.] Mina, voiceover: He emails me every day with updates, and it sounds like he’s having a great time. His client sounds really nice, and he’s been a great host so far.

everything with lucy and the boyfriend squad is basically just the bachelor

except when the filmmakers do some dramatic narration to insinuate that there’s tension mounting and rivalry blooming between the boyfriend squad, it just cuts to them all playing mario kart or going to the gym or having lunch together

there’s a whole sequences of them helping each other text lucy

the moment when the genre shift happens is when Jonathan is first attacked by the brides, and he gets away, but the camera crew isn’t so lucky, thus explaining why he drops out of the narrative until he gets back to London

later on an interview with Mina about how worried she is about Lucy gets cut short when her phone starts buzzing and she sees that people keep linking her to a news story

and then it cuts to a local newscast about the mysterious attacks on local children

the boyfriend squad + jonathan telling mina she needs to stay behind for her own safety since they can’t risk their precious mina getting hurt and upset and then it just cuts to mina in an interview, except she’s silently staring at the camera visibly FUMING

before the final trip, everyone records their last requests and any final words they want to share with the world just in case things go south

in the end, we only see quincey’s

the final scene is a “where are they now?” where we see, among other things, mina and jonathan filming a home movie of Quincey II’s third birthday party

#dracula #dracula daily #feel free to add #dracula spoilers #dracula daily spoilers

[chronically-ghosted]

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour. 

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round. 

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known. 

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity. 

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it. 

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying. 

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth. 

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.” 

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?” 

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.” 

Trish smacked him over the back of the head. 

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks. 

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious. 

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely. 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled. 

“To Ned!” 

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?” 

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick. 

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?” 

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat. 

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo. 

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap. 

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour. 

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening. 

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you. 

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement. 

At least, the only person you can see. 

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing. 

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked. 

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all. 

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze. 

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here! 

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap. 

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.” 

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint. 

Caravaggio, eat your heart out. 

“Max, what the fuck was that?” 

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall. 

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple. 

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth. 

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.” 

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise. 

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder. 

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you. 

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier. 

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth. 

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt. 

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose. 

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?” 

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,” 

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits. 

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around. 

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down. 

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat. 

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt. 

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .” 

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you. 

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation. 

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.” 

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear. 

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this. 

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily. 

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,” 

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you. 

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning. 

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.” 

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs. 

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.” 

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours. 

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office. 

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be. 

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable. 

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin. 

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You��d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that. 

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks. 

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.” 

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.” 

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.” 

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours. 

It is dangerous, your feelings for him. 

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes. 

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door. 

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water. 

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches. 

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords. 

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term. 

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world. 

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

[heyclickadee]

Screw it, I need to get this out of my system. A thought about the guy in the Clone X armor on Pabu:

So…okay. I’ve seen people pointing out that there are resemblances between Tech and the mysterious clone x guy we see standing in front of the Archium in the trailer. And, honestly, they’re not really wrong.

There are some very, well, Tech-like shapes to this guy’s outfit (the dotted lines are ones I wasn’t so sure about):

They’re not an exact match, because some of the line proportions of the similarities I pointed out are different, but the similarities are there. There’s even a similar effect—not shape, but effect—to the lighter green outline around the eyes calling attention to the area as Tech’s goggles had—the difference being that we can’t see this guys eyes behind the glass.

And, yes, this mystery man does have a really similar build. And shoulders. And general proportions. And there’s that freaking shin pouch. They gave him a shin pouch!

And then, of course, the basic silhouette of the Clone X helmet is very similar (not exactly the same, but similar) to Tech’s helmet, minus the visor and the ear cuffs:

Now, there are major differences as well. The Clone X armor is much more streamlined and less bulky than Tech’s; the pauldrons have similar proportions but a much more rounded shape; the breastplate fits a bit tighter and is also significantly shorter; the overall shape and muzzle of the helmet is very similar, but the Clone X helmet muzzle is about half the length because the covering for the eye-ridge area juts out that much farther, and it has more of a fluid “backswept” effect overall; he’s only got a few pouches, two, maybe three if the arm-band works as a pouch.

But the overall effect of this particular Ckone X character is that he reads as a somewhat Tech-shaped individual. And I have a few thoughts on this.

First, I do think this might be on purpose. Yes, the base armor, minus the shoulder and arm straps and the pouches, is basically identical to the Clone X armor we see in season two. I think it’s more or less standard issue to clone assassins and, apart from a couple little tweaks (again, the straps and the pouches), is not at all unique in that regard. That said, if the production team knew what the story was doing with Tech in advance—and I think they did, I don’t think this show was written from beginning to end at the start, because that doesn’t happen, but I suspect they had the major story beats outlined before moving forward—it’s possible that the design team used Tech’s armor as the template from which to derive the clone X armor for season two. I’m not saying that happened, but I am saying it’s possible.

Second, I’m not saying this is Tech. I’m not sure if it is. I’m leaning that direction right now, but I might lean otherwise in an hour or two. We’ll see. What I am one-hundred percent sure of, however, is that these shots of this guy are Grade A Tech speculation bait—and intended that way. I think we’re meant to speculate about whether this is Tech or not. The TBB team gave us absolutely no indication that Tech is dead for real, nothing final, just the same shot of Tech’s ambiguous fate with a Sad Filter, and then they offered up this very mysterious and Tech-shaped person standing in front of an emotionally poignant location. Whoever he actually is, even if he’s just some random guy, Mystery Clone X guy is here in the trailer to drive Tech discussion during the lead up to season premiere.

Third, if this is Tech, if that’s him, then I think the trailer is being incredibly misleading about what he’s doing there. It looks like this Clone X is leading a squad of stormtroopers in an invasion of Pabu. I’m not sure that’s what’s happening—the stormtroopers are probably there to wreck Pabu, but I’m not sure this Clone X is leading them or even on their side. I don’t think we’re getting an imperial or brainwashed Tech scenario, especially not with how late in the season this shot is probably happening. I think it’s a lot more likely that this outfit originally belonged to the Clone X guy we see speaking in the trailer, Tech jumped him, used the guy’s armor to disguise himself, added some pouched because of course he did, and then inserted himself into a situation to see what he could do to help out. And I don’t think they found Pabu because of Tech, either—the empire has plenty of other ways of doing that.

Fourth, if—if!—we do get a brainwashed Tech, I think it’s going to be short-lived and, hopefully, very different from Crosshair’s situation. I almost wonder if it’s going to turn out to be a bit of a schlocky b-movie mind control helmet situation (I notice that the Clone X from season two only took the face of his helmet off). Like the clone x helmets interface with the inhibitor chips somehow, and it doesn’t work with Tech, because he doesn’t have one, but he plays along so he can get something else done and have a chance to escape. Or something. I’m thinking out loud. Anyway, whatever happens, even if we get an imperial/brainwashed Tech scenario, I think he’s going to be fine and himself well before the end of the series.

Fifth, brainwashed Tech is probably my least favorite of the Tech-lives options. I don’t like it. But this show has a habit of getting me on board with plot choices I did not want, so. If they go that route, I’ll see how they do it, and evaluate from there. I still don’t want it right now, though.

Sixth, there are lots of reasons for it not to be Tech at all,

#the bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #clone x speculation #short version #he’s in the trailer to generate discussion on who he could be and whether or not he’s Tech

[spiralingemptyness]

I want more… clone hc pt. 2

why not more hc, I’m bored and wanna ramble… sorry if I repeated any.

99 is the best vode, he knows everything. If a brother is said, he’ll hug them, give words of encouragement and stuff and a mysteriously some illegal contraband that whatever the clone likes will randomly show up.

Shaak ti is buff and can hold her own if not demolish the Alphas on the training mats (The Rancor battalion found that out the hard way)

Jek, Rys and Thire became close after the mission with Yoda, Thire is still close with the commanders on Coruscant, but he’s even closer with the other two

While Hound may be a sergeant, he’s still an honorary commander member, he became the little brother of the group

…Thorn didn’t die on Scipio, nope, no way. Amidala saved him, always carrying a blaster or smth.

Dogma became really good at braiding hair because of all the time he braided Tups hair, so after Umbara when he definitely goes to Coruscant, Amidala finds out and sometimes ask him to do her hair.

Colt may essentially be Buir of Kamino, but all the alphas (especially 17) out Buir him, and it can be very comedic how a big burly alpha is hauling a ARC commander just to force them to sleep.

Fox absolutely denies or threaten to black mail shebse squad if they bring up the fact Fox was the first to fold and call Alpha-17 buir.

Colt and Wolffe have regular holo-calls just to shit talk Ventress.

Rex got adopted into Shebse squad after he bit Cody (Wolffe was proud)

When Kix is on shift in medbay, most of the time Jesse is there with him, he doesn’t have to be their but he’s a good batch mate.

Each shebse squad member have a quirk in fighting droids: Cody punches and spin kicks them, Wolffe bits them, Rex throws his blasters at them if they run out of ammo, Fox for some reason carry’s a high voltage taser, Bly drop kicks them, and Ponds throws rocks at them to catch them off guard

On multiple occasions animals like Loth cats and Tookas have been snuck on board the venators and multiple times have had to been taken off board

Fives has a girly scream, Torrent found out after he was caught singing in the barracks

Comet (and Plo Buir) can convice Wolffe to take care of himself (little brother privileges), unlike Boost, Warthog, and Sinker who have to sedate him of physically haul him away from the bridge

MEDICS GIVE STICKERS, if a your a good patient, you get a sticker. So there is a lot of vode with stickers inside or outside there armor

Colt keeps himself loaded with weapons, many different types of blasters, check. Lots of vibroblades and vibroswords (that he stole from commando droids), check. It will take a solid 10 mins for him to de-weapon himself

after Khorm, Plo threatened Captain Ozzel…. It was terrifying, Kit Fisto was both shocked and absolutely scared of getting on Plo Koons bad side.

Monnk collects different shells and rocks from the ocean floor and give them to different vode

kit fisto taught his battalion how to fish, just randomly, out of the blue he said they were going fishing and they went fishing

Ashoka definitely stole the ‘I’m no Jedi’ line from Rex.

everyone form the 212th and some 501st members were more traumatized by a bold Kenobi than the fact he faked his death to be a bounty hunter for a time period

kix has trouble staying warm after the cyro-freeze, like he’ll be bundled up in layers on tatooine

quinlan snuck into fox’s office once and was hit with a data pad on the head when he scared him and got himself a concussion, safe to say he doesn’t sneak up on fox anymore

clones have a sweet tooth

Once Hound got hurt while chasing a suspect and Grizzer went absolutely feral on the person who hurt him, it took Thorn and Stone just to separate him from the suspect, (fox and thire were just watching in shock as they helped hound)

padawans always use vents for travel (ex. Echo: where’s the commander. Fives casually: oh she’s in the vents. Echo: oh.. WHY IS SHE IN THE VENTS)

(Might be in the other one) The corrie guard have a bet everytime a battalion is on leave, the bet is: which members of what battalion will have the most in the drunk tank.

medics have to have a smex-ed meeting with every new shiny that boards

Bly (respectfully, cause he is a gentleman) asked Aayla to wear armor, the next day she was wearing Bly’s spare armor. Bly couldn’t stop blushing the whole day and it made his tattoos orange

When one or more of the Shebse squad is on leave, they bully fox into going to 79’s with them or to take care of himself. Safe to say, that whenever that happens the corrie guard can relax a bit

the most annoying patients for medics is any CO or jedis, all medics curse like sailors

when Kix was a medic shiny he hadn’t yet mastered the disapproval stare or the ‘shut the kark up and do what I say’ stare, so the vode listened to him just because it was so cute and funny, they quickly learned to stop thinking like that.

once after a battle Obi-Wan found Cody lying star fished on his back, he kicked a droid and broke his foot and collapsed once his foot gave out. Obi-wan just sighed, forced healed his foot a bit and carried him to the medics (Cody was turned into a sputtering and flustered mess)

Rex was already being corrupted by Skywalker’s tendencies when he was just a lieutenant in the 212th, Cody was horrified and wanted to bash his head into the wall.

Boil and Waxer secretly adopted Numa after Ryloth, each just co-parenting her

Kids on coruscant would sometimes come up to a guard member and hand them a paper of a drawing, ask for a hug, or just give them goodies. The guard now has a wall full of drawings given to them by kids in the barracks

the guard have stupid names for operations, it’s just a serious op about observing and trying to take down a drug ring (with vos’s help) and it has a name like “operation: too high to fly”

the cadets will hang off from any limb they can reach of their clone trainers and shaak ti

medics will lay on a cot with an injured clone on it to help them sleep, they’ll either be sleeping with them or doing data work

so yah… I’ll make more. Might make some of cod, fnaf , Dc, etc. as well and try to do art as well

#star wars #hc #hcs #clone 99 #shaak ti #alpha 17 #commander colt #master yoda #clone trooper jek #commander thire #sergeant hound #grizzer #commander fox #commander monnk #commander cody #commander wolffe #commander thorn #commander stone #clone trooper dogma #padme amidala #clone trooper tup #clone medic kix #captain rex #commander bly #aayla secura #bly x aayla #blyla #obi wan kenobi #codywan #ashoka tano

[xhollandlilsx]

Bad News - Bella Ramsey x Footballer!reader

Warnings: Fluff?

Bella and I weren’t very public with our relationship. We did post a few photos here and there, nothing really PDA, more just funny photos of eachother.

So it wasn’t our favourite thing when fans would take photos and post them when we’re on dates or are showing PDA. That’s why we’re both sat in bed together as we stared at the news article on my phone, her head rested on my shoulder as we both confusedly frowned at the phone.

There was a photo of the two of us outside a venue in which we’re both laughing in each others arms in one, and the next we’re kissing. Though the photos weren’t what bothered us the most, it was the article. ‘Y/N Y/L/N and mystery girl’.

“Mystery girl?” I laughed slightly, looking at them to which they shrugged letting out a small laugh too before both of us looked back at the phone, and I clicked on a video.

‘Footballer Y/N Y/L/N, and actor Bella Ramsey may have called it a day on their relationship, as new photos surfaced of Y/L/N with a mystery girl outside of Huster Lounge in London on Saturday’

We both tried to hold back our laughter as the woman spoke, Bella’s fingers tracing shapes on my thigh, as I leaned my head on theirs.

‘The photos come just days after Ramsey posted this photo to their story,’

The photo popped up of Bella sat next to Pedro in an interview chair from her perspective.

‘Showing they are clearly over in the United States. We know Ramsey and Y/L/N weren’t the most public of couples and haven’t posted eachother in a while, but this might be the proof we need that the pair are no longer together. I’m Jess Thomas and this is-‘

I clicked off the video and we both let out a laugh.

“They do realise planes exist right?” I laughed, the photos of Bella and I weren’t clear and it was only the back of their hair, but I would’ve thought people could still tell if was them.

“I know. God, you wanna check instagram?” They offered holding their phone up.

“Go for it” I shrugged with a groan and rubbing my face.

They opened their phone and started scrolling through Instagram, some fans offering their condolences like I was dead, and some angry at me. Though that was only 10% of fans. The rest knew it was Bella in that photo, some of them calling out the news sources, and some of them arguing with the people who thought different.

I shook my head before taking their phone and throwing it on the rug on the floor, before leaning on my side on my elbow, my palm under my temple.

“Okay that’s enough of that” I rolled my eyes and rested my hand on their stomach in the opening where their night shirt had risen.

“You think we should tell them?” They asked tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, that had fallen out of the ponytail I had in.

“Not yet, let’s let them sweat a bit” I shrugged with a smirk.

“You think fans will ask you at the game tomorrow?”

“Oh definitely. But with it being against City, I don’t think they’ll be too focused on me” I laughed slightly. I had played football since I was able to walk which lead to being scouted at age 10, to being the youngest player to play for the Lionesses senior squad ever.

Bella and I met while I was in LA celebrating the Euros win, fans started to speculate when they began posting at games on instagram, and I began posting photos of behind the scenes.

“Good. And I’ll be there, front and centre, wearing this…” They grinned before jumping out of the bed, leaving me still lay on my side as they ran over to their side of my wardrobe which I don’t touch and took out a pink United shirt with my name on the back, and replacing the one they were currently wearing.

“Oh my god” I laughed covering my face, purely out of joy, the best feeling when you’re a footballer is having your significant other stood there wearing your name and cheering. It drowns out all of the fans put together.

“You like it?” They asked giving a twirl and showing me the Y/L/N and number 11 on the back.

I just nodded looking at them between the gaps in my fingers.

“I said do you like it?” They laughed climbing onto the bed and onto my lap, moving my hands from my face and pinning them either side of my head.

“I love it” I grinned finally making defeated eye contact with them.

“I love you” They smiled leaning down to place a quick kiss on my lips.

“I love you too, ‘Mystery Girl’”

“Oh ‘mystery girl’?”

“Oh my bad, you’re now my ‘ex girl’” I grinned.

“Wow!” They nodded with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, might have to give this shirt to the girl I was with” I smirked, to which she grabbed the pillow from her side of the bed and hit me with it, before I laughed and flipped us over.

#wlw imagine #lgbtlove #lgbtq #bellaramseyimagine #bella ramsey #bella ramsey x reader #footballer

[writingdumpster]

celebration

pairing: Mickey Garcia (Fanboy) x reader

warnings: alcohol, implied sex

summary: everyone in the dagger squad has tried to get your number, but the last lieutenant to approach ends up being the winner

word count: 1,275

Your friend had begged you to go to The Hard Deck with her. She told you it was a bar where Navy men and women frequented and it would be a good place for her to find a fling. She was just getting out of a relationship and needed to get back into dating. You reluctantly agreed to be her emotional support, but she’d been whisked away by some pilot within minutes of your arrival. You were left sitting alone at the bar being interrupted every few minutes by a different pilot or WSO introducing themselves to you with a callsign instead of a name. Another man approached. He sat down beside you and then turned his head to face you.

“I’m Mickey,” he said, as he held out his hand. You turned to look at him. You were tired of the introductions, but you didn’t want to be rude and you were pleasantly surprised at this lieutenant’s decision to tell you his name and not his callsign. When you looked at him you noticed that he was one of two in the large group that had not approached you that night. The other was a bespectacled man who you had noted didn’t talk much at all. You were mildly glad that this Mickey had come to talk to you. When you saw the table when you walked in, he had been the one you found most attractive. Quiet but smiley. Handsome but not arrogant. He stuck out among his friends.

“Are you and your friends doing a challenge to see which one of you gets rejected the fastest?” You asked. Mickey chuckled.

“Rooster said Hangman wouldn’t be able to get your number and when he couldn’t the rest of them had to try,” he said. “I actually wanted to apologize for all of us bothering you.” You were surprised. This man was being very honest with you.

“No need to be sorry,” you said.

“Can I buy you a drink on behalf of all of us?” He asked. You smiled.

“Only if you stay while I drink it,” you said. Mickey blushed a bit but smiled.

“I’d be honored,” he said. He got Penny’s attention and you told her your order. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Y/N,” you told him.

“What’s your call sign? Or is Mickey your callsign? Is it like the mouse?” Mickey chuckled.

“No, Mickey is my real name. My callsign is Fanboy,” he said.

“Fanboy? Are you into K-Pop or something?” You joked. Mickey smiled.

“Star Wars,” he said. “I was wearing underwear with Chewbacca on them on my first day and now I’m Fanboy forever.” You laughed and Mickey grinned. He knew he wouldn’t be satisfied if he didn’t get to hear the sound of your laugh every day.

“At least it’s not ‘Coyote.’ That was the worst one,” you said. Mickey smiled.

“Coyote’s the worst? And which one of us has the best callsign?” He asked.

“Phoenix,” you said. “Fanboy is a close second though. Rooster doesn’t even make sense. Roosters can’t fly.” Mickey chuckled.

“Payback said the same thing when we met Rooster,” Mickey told you.

“You’ve known Payback longer than the others?” Mickey nodded.

“He’s my pilot. I’m a weapons systems officer,” he said. “We went through Top Gun training together,” he finished.

“You’re not training at Top Gun right now?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. Your cheeks warmed and you held in a smile. You hadn’t realized just how charming military men would be. “We just got back from a mission. We’re celebrating.”

“What was the mission?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid that’s classified, ma’am,” Mickey said. His tone was light and teasing. You chuckled.

“A man of mystery,” you said as you took a sip of your drink.

“No mysteries. I’m an open book,” he said.

“Really?” You asked. You leaned forward as did Mickey, the two of you both proudly in one another’s personal space.

“Ask me anything.” You smirked.

“If your friends hadn’t been bothering me, would you still have come over here?” You asked. Mickey blushed but smiled.

“Probably not. I’m not the most confident when it comes to beautiful women,” he said.

“Hmm. I’m glad I endured all of your friends then,” you said. Mickey smiled.

“I am too,” he said.

“Were you flying one of the planes on your mission?” You asked.

“I don’t fly them, but I was in one of them,” he said.

“I’m sure I owe you a ‘thank you’ then. Whatever classified business you were doing has kept me safe,” you said.

“No ‘thanks’ necessary, ma’am,” he said.

“No?” You asked.

“No.” Mickey said as he shook his head. You reached forward and put your hand on his thigh.

“And what if I want to thank you anyway?” You whispered into his ear. His breath hitched.

“Let me go grab my jacket,” he said.

“I drove my friend here. I have to give her my car keys,” you said. Mickey headed back over to the pool table that the Dagger Squad had monopolized to grab his coat.

“Where’ve you been?” Hangman asked. “I thought you were going to get us another round.”

“I was talking to y/n,” Mickey said. Hangman and Rooster chuckled.

“Bob’s gotta go now. We all have to get rejected by her,” Coyote piped in.

“I couldn’t get her number. Did you really think you could?” Hangman mocked. Mickey smiled to himself.

“I didn’t try to get her number,” he said. Phoenix rolled her eyes.

“Right. That’s why you were over there for twenty minutes and came back without any drinks,” she said.

“I am taking her back to my place right now,” Mickey added casually as he grabbed his jacket. Hangman choked on the beer he was drinking. His eyes shot to Mickey.

“You’re bluffing,” Hangman said. Mickey glanced over his shoulder. You were standing at the end of the bar with your eyes on him.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said with a smile. He pulled his jacket on as he walked towards you. He rested his hand on your lower back as he led you out of the bar and towards his car. The whole dagger squad exchanged shocked looks as they watched their beloved Fanboy be the one to take you home.

Mickey dropped you off at your house the next morning. You kissed him shyly, but he quickly deepened the kiss, pulling you close to him. He promised to call you and bid you a goodbye, backing away to keep his eyes on you as you closed the door.

When he got back to his car he finally looked at his phone for the day. He was greeted with a myriad of text messages in the Dagger squad group chat from the night before.

Hangman : DID U DRUG HER FANBOY?

Rooster: Tell the truth

Payback: He must’ve paid her. He couldn’t get anyone during Top Gun training

Phoenix: it makes sense to me.

Hangman: TF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT PHOE?

Phoenix: she’s obviously not into muscly guys.

Coyote: LMAO

Rooster: That’s gotta be it

Hangman: It’s the only explanation.

10:36 AM

Fanboy: whatever she’s into, it wasn’t any of you

Rooster: Bragging isn’t classy

Fanboy: wasn’t bragging, just pointing out the truth.

Hangman: Whatever, she’ll never call you back.

Another text came in.

Y/N💕: last night was fun. wanna hang tonight?

Mickey: yes 🥰 come over at 7:00?

Mickey chuckled. He switched over to the Dagger Squad group chat.

Fanboy: maybe you’re right.

Fanboy: anyway, can’t come to the bar tonight. i have plans 😏

#mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #danny ramirez x reader #top gun maverick x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #top gun x reader #danny ramirez

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART]

This one is shorter, because I wanted to leave a cliffhanger at the end >:) Fair warning, there's a small paragraph describing wounds in more depth than I usually do!

These are getting more difficult to write haha. Maybe I'm trying to add too many plot points at the same time, but I like a good mystery or 5...

Ghost is tempted to barge into Price’s office for a third time today. He’s been getting increasingly more agitated, and with no missions in the foreseeable future, has no place to let all his frustrations out.

The fact he’s been avoiding MacTavish isn’t helping the situation.

“Avoiding” is a strong word. Ghost is simply waiting for Soap to get what he had told him back then through his thick skull. And hearing the conversations he has with the recruits tells him he absolutely didn’t.

The Scot keeps up a friendly approach with them, making light jokes at his revenant status. Lets enough information out that the recruits don’t feel the need to ask more, but not enough that they would truly understand what is going on.

It would impress him if he didn’t feel this underlying current of freezing ice every time he heard another of Soap’s ‘hilarious’ stories.

Watching Gaz beside him grimace tells him they share the sentiment. The Sergeants have been spending a lot of time together as of late, and Ghost would lie if he said he didn’t wish Garrick would take a moment to speak with him. He’s not one to really focus on what he’s feeling, but he needs to share what he knows with someone.

He wants more brains working on solving the mystery called “Soap”.

Ghost sighs before turning away from Price’s door. 

You’d think, for someone with Ghost’s powers, he wouldn’t need to train his physical strength as much. He wouldn’t, if things worked as they did before he joined the 141. He wasn’t as smart back then.

Ghost throws another flurry of punches at the sack that distracts him from his thoughts for a moment.

Back then, he went into missions back to back, annihilating enemies within a few seconds of touching ground. Receiving orders to unleash Limbo regardless of how close allies were to him. 

Limbo was emptier. Calmer. The not-dead residing within it weren’t always this… angry.

Another set of punches violently shakes the chains the punching bag is hanged by.

It was only after losing several squads that Ghost finally got his tight leash, but it was too late. Limbo was never the same. And neither were his fellow soldiers, who saw in Ghost not a brother in arms, but their friend’s murderer.

Soap might not have his own Limbo, but Ghost is certain his powers can, and if he continues on the path he’s on, will backfire.

Reapers, as generous as they are, are merciless.

He heaves, resting his arm on the abused bag. It might be time to involve Price in his concerns.

The path to Price’s office is intercepted by one floating Sergeant, also on his way to the Captain.

Ghost nods at him, “need the Captain for something?”

Gaz averts his eyes for a moment, “It’s about Soap, I think-”

“Save it for Price’s office”, Ghost restarts on his path, a little more sure of his purpose. With the three of them, he’ll might be able to find out more.

Before Garrick can knock, Price’s words fill their minds.

“I can sense your troubles from here, come in already.”

They both huffed and entered the room. Price sat in front of his computer screen, reading something before addressing them.

“Spill it out then. I’m listening.”

“Soap’s left arm has nerve damage, sir”, Ghost starts, “He needs more time to heal than the brass is giving him. He should be removed from active duty.”

Gaz’s eyes widen in surprise. Oh, so Soap hasn’t let his new friend know about this? Fucking great.

“How the hell is he supposed to fight without one arm?” He exclaims, “Sir, I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s hiding injuries. He keeps telling stories about how many he got blown to bits and I can’t imagine he-”

Price cuts him off “The Sergeant’s arm injuries are registered and accounted for.”

“The higher-ups let him out when he’s ‘capable of preforming well on field’. His words” Ghost adds and deflates back into his chair.

“Bloody hell…” Gaz trails off.

Price watches both of them and exhales, “I’m not in charge of Soap’s next deployment. I can’t do anything about that.”

Ghost looks at the screen for the first time since entering. Schedules, of…

“Price… what have you found?”

The captain’s expression darkened, “We finally got back the decrypted intel you and Soap collected 7 months ago.”

His focus snaps away from Soap. Are they being sent on a mission finally? “Tell me where you need me, Captain.”

“Switzerland. Intel suggests a deal with a PMC will happen there in 4 days. Shepherd wants eyes on it, the smuggler hub it’s taking place in has been on our radar for months.”

Price drags out 2 files and dumps them in front of Ghost and Gaz, “you two will survey the area and take notes, no engagement. Get it done clean.”

“What about Soap, sir?” Gaz asks.

Price raises an eyebrow, “what about him? He will stay here, waiting for his assignment.” Price tries to reassure the Sergeant, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him busy. He’ll get to have some alone time in the training grounds”.

Ghost gets up and takes the file with him. They both get dismissed and Gaz stops after a couple of steps, “you need to talk to Soap before we leave.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “has he said anything?”.

“No”, Gaz chews on his lip, “But I feel like if he’ll listen to someone, it would be you.”

Ghost walks away, not before muttering, “your feeling’s wrong, then.”

He doesn’t sleep that night. Which isn’t an unfamiliar experience for him, but much rarer after Price found him a bunk bed to drag into his personal room. The victims of Limbo don’t reach up high enough to grasp at him there.

Ghost looks out at the fields, a sense of discomfort lingering around him. Footsteps behind him alert him to the presence of another sleepless soldier. He doesn’t bother turning - they’ll leave him alone when they realize it’s the Ghost, if they know what’s good for them.

It’s for that reason that he’s surprised to hear the footsteps get closer to him, before feeling a body join the window.

Ghost is about to scare the bastard away, but he turns around to find Soap, a somber look marring his features.

“I’ve thought about what you told me”, he speaks lowly, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

Ghost hums.

“My powers… don’t allow me to do much.” Soap locks eyes with the night sky, “I either destroy or get destroyed. I supposed you figured what I prefer.”

He did. What he doesn’t understand is why Soap is so adamant that it’s the only way. He turns to Soap, which makes the other finally look at him.

“When you return from your mission, when you’re truly under my command, I’ll decide what your role will be. For now”, he sighs, “for now, you can keep playing a puppet for the higher ups.”

Soap has a distant look to his eyes. As if he’s not really all here. “I do want to learn. How to operate like the 141 does. I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.”

That doesn’t comfort Ghost in the slightest.

“Care to share?” He cautiously asks.

Soap, for the first time in days, shines a genuine smile at him, “You’re a bit of a myth sir. Each person seems to have a different idea of what your powers really are, how your Reaping went”

He raises his head, “None of them come close to the truth”.

“What else have you heard?” Ghost continues digging his own second grave.

“Does it matter? It’s all shite anyway.” Soap huffs, “You’re far softer than any of them realize”

He barks what could be a laugh, “Softer? Sergeant, have you hit your head in training?”

Soap fucking pouts his lips like a damn child and replies “Aye I said it! Yer soft LT! Who else would’ve cared about my arm!” His smile broadens.

Ghost can feel his eyes crescent, “I think your brain’s more messed up than I originally thought.”

“That’s for fuckin’ certain” Soap snorts.

They return to their previous silence, and Ghost unexpectedly has the urge to say, “me and Garrick are leaving for a mission tomorrow. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Soap rests his head in his flaming hand, leaning against the window sill, smiling up at Ghost.

“Copy that, sir”.

The mission isn’t anything to write home about. Ghost does feel surprisingly refreshed for not sleeping a wink the night before.

He refuses to acknowledge that Soap’s farewell to them on the tarmac has anything to do with that.

Gaz lifts a chunk of concrete for them to overwatch the meeting happen. The PMC representatives, a dozen soldiers covered head to toe in black uniforms, exchange with the smugglers a few words before walking over to their truck and opening the back to check the “goods”. From their location, Ghost can’t see what’s inside.

The PMC Soldiers seem pleased, and bring several crates to the smugglers.

The two parties leave, and Ghost and Gaz finish their observations and call for exfil.

When they return to their home base, Ghost notes only Price waiting for them on the tarmac.

They get dragged into debrief before he can ask where their other Sergeant is.

As Price collects the various files and maps they used in the meeting, Ghost stays behind and inquires him about Soap’s whereabouts.

“The Sergeant deployed last night”, is all he’s got clearance to get.

Price tells him he’ll be informed when the Sergeant returns, and Ghost leaves the meeting room, unsettled as if he didn’t just finish a mission.

The days are incredibly unremarkable without Soap. He and Garrick have played about 15 card game rounds in 3 days, before they both got so bored the preferred doing nothing at all.

He would be drowning in paperwork if their entire previous mission didn’t unexpectedly get wrapped in red tape, so he didn’t even have that to distract him. Although, with the size of Price’s eye bags resembling several suitcases, maybe he shouldn’t complain.

At last, Gaz runs up to him to swiftly push him towards the tarmac, yapping about and telling him that Soap is about to return.

Ghost decides then that he will stick to the Scot until he’ll tell him every single detail on his mission. Specifically, in the medical department. He’s not going to let him hide such things anymore.

Gaz sees the helo nearing and Ghost’s chest does a bizarre twisting motion in anticipation for Soap and his bright smiles.

The helo touches down, and Gaz runs up to it while the ramp lowers. He calls for Soap before abruptly stopping.

Ghost pushes beyond him to see what’s the holdup, and freezes in place.

Soap stands on one, shaky leg. His left arm, bloody and bruised, barely hangs on a crutch. His entire right side is charred, black blood caking his remaining tac vest.

He hops down slowly, and Ghost sees his face more clearly in the sunlight. Or what is left of it.

His cheek was so badly burned he could see his teeth poking through, blood covering what is certainly more burn marks. One eye shut, the other so vacant it looks fake.

He glances at Ghost for a moment, before Soap breaks the eye contact and continues hopping forward, leaving droplets of blood behind him. Distantly, he can hear Gaz shaking off from his stupor and offering to help Soap, only to be completely ignored.

Ghost himself is still stuck, his eyes glued to the helo sits.

Soap’s is covered in deep red blood.

Should probably remind y'all I like angst huh

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #revenant au #cod ghost #cod soap #cod gaz #cod price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod fic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #so im starting to get to the 'inbetween' scenes #where im like. not 100% sure what i want to add yet #but i basically got a mental list of events that i want to happen and info i want to reveal in each chapter #and i know next one will be very fun :D #by fun i mean it will hurt. but it will be fun! #also uni is starting up again so i think this marks the end of my streak #oh well maybe ill start posting longer chapters

[dailyreverie]

6. calling them first when spreading some good news – with Poe and Solo!reader

Maybe they get some good news about the resistance movement so she runs to tell Poe and he’s like “what did your mom say?” and she’s like “kriff I didn’t tell her yet”

This feels like good news

Part of the Your Wish is my Command universe | Can be read as a stand-alone

A/N: I loved this request so so much!! I'm falling in love with these two idiots and this was so fun to write. Thank you so so much for requesting! [Title from song "Good news" by Bakar - give it a listen because it really captures the vibes of this blurb]

Are we friends or are we more prompt: #6. calling them first when spreading some good news

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader

Word Count: 900 words

SERIES MASTERLIST

For months on end, everyone on comms had been going insane over a distress call that kept on coming, yet when someone answered the call would disappear. There were theories beginning to sparkle around base about who could be calling: a lost Jedi, a spy, an ally, even Luke Skywalker himself, and your intel team was sure to discover who it was.

Your search had been narrowed down after tracking clues for weeks, and sleepless nights on coms had left you exhausted, until one day, after a long morning of hunting the mysterious caller, your squad finally reported to you the news. “Lieutenant, we found him!”, the words rang through your ears and at long last, they made you smile in pure joy.

You ran through halls, anxious to find and tell the news to the one person who had supported you day and night through this hideous hide-and-seek mission, keeping you company on the hard nights and bringing you caf each morning. “Poe!” You called for him when you spotted him in one of the meeting rooms, his attention focused on the screen in front of him but snapping out of whatever he was doing when he heard your voice. 

“Hey!” Poe replied, jumping into panic and meeting you halfway across the large room when he saw you were running. “You okay? What happened?” You were out of breath, your chest was heaving and he could swear you were breaking into a sweat. Poe held your arms, holding you in place when he saw your agitated state and waiting for you to keep going.

“Poe, I found it! We did it!” You spoke in between breaths.

“Found it? What did you- Wait… you found the call?”

At the lack of air in your lungs, you could only nod. “We did, the squad found it.” After a big, deep breath you were able to speak again. “We were right, it was a spy who just spilled major intel on the First Order. He gave us their plans for at least the next three months if not more, we have their major locations…” You ran out of breath again, forcing you to pause to catch it, making you look at Poe as you did. His face had transformed gradually into a giant smile, shiny eyes and dimples and all; your enthusiasm had rubbed up on him, and the way he looked at you was not helping you breathe normally again at all. “...We have an advantage now, we finally do!”

“That is amazing!” The grasp he had on your arms tightened and he pulled you in, both of you laughing in excitement and holding unto each other. Good news had been lacking on the Resistance for a while now and this, even if just a tiny step forward, felt like a ray of sun finally shining on you. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered the last words, something just for you and him, sealing his words with a kiss on your temple.

“Thank you,” you beamed, staring into his eyes that were looking at you with so much tenderness and warmth in then you could probably live in them. 

It was easy to get lost in Poe’s eyes - as it had been happening more frequently - until he spoke up again: “What did your mother say?”

“What?” You blinked slowly, his words taking you out of the excitement of the moment as if he had said something completely out of this galaxy. Poe titled his head as an answer, his eyebrows furrowing when he realized… “OH KRIFF!”

“You haven’t told her?” He chuckled, and when he saw your mouth open in surprise, surprised at yourself mostly, the chuckle transformed into a full-on laugh. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I- I don’t- I thought-” You stuttered, looking around you for the correct answer until you found it in front of you: you wanted to tell him, just as every boring aspect of your day and every mundane thing you share, your first thought was to go and tell Poe. “I don’t know.” Was an easier answer, one that wouldn’t make you feel dumb(er) than you already did, even if you laughed as you said it.

“Well, go tell her!” Poe’s hands turned you around to face the door as he kept chuckling, giving you a little push toward the exit.

Before you left, though, and before you were completely out of his reach, he stretched to trap your hand in his, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” Poe called, his thumb doing little circles on the back of your hand as you waited for him to continue talking, except that - for the Maker - he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m glad you told me first.”

You matched his smile, squeezing his hand before letting it go to go find the General. You were more relaxed now, though, since the one person you were dying to talk to about it already knew.

Poe was left with a little grin in his lips, little did you know, one that not even Snap’s teasing could erase. The pilot had remained hidden behind the screen and would not dare speak ever since he saw the way Poe lighted up at the sound of your voice, only shipping in once you were gone: “So are you ever asking her out or-?” He earned a light punch on his arm, laughing even then when he saw the Commander’s cheeks turning pink.

🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fic

[nahoney22]

Need A Hand?*** (Part 2/2)

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 5.1k

*gif mine so credit if used please*

When an old friend contacts you about hidden treasure, you just had to get involved! You just didn’t expect to run into a certain Clone again.

Warnings: I’m going to class this as NSFW as implied sex is mentioned, nudity, grinding and kissing. mentions of a little bit of blood and injury to reader, slight bickering between you an echo, reconciliation, set around episode 5 Entombed.

Part One | Part Two

"When can we expect your friend to join us?" Hunter sat at the bar of Cid's parlor, looking glum as Phee's influence on Omega seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, especially when treasure was involved.

"She'll arrive when she arrives," Phee replied nonchalantly, admiring the compass that Omega and Wrecker had recovered from a scrapyard.

Hunter was less than pleased with her answer and longed for Echo's presence for backup. But, with the others on a mission, it was just Hunter, Phee and Omega occupying the establishment.

"Can you at least give us a name?" Hunter pressed, eager for more information. But that's when Phee's expression became uncertain.

"I, uh, don't actually know," she admitted, eliciting a shared look of disbelief from Hunter and Omega.

"You don't know?" Hunter asked, his voice strained with frustration as he bared his teeth.

"That's right, I don't know. Nobody does," Phee said, rolling her eyes. "But she's good at what she does."

"You got that right," a mysterious voice chimed in.

The trio turned swiftly to see a hooded figure with a masked face standing before them. Hunter felt on edge, not liking the idea of someone's face being concealed in such a way. The person's voice was also altered, making it impossible to determine their true tone.

"Hey...you!" Phee laughed, not knowing what to call the newcomer as you approached the group and scanned the bar.

"Phee, it's good to see you again," you speak up, nodding in her direction. Though it was difficult to tell if the sentiment was genuine.

Hunter stood, feeling a bit uneasy as you looked him up and down before turning your attention back to Phee. "I heard you found treasure?"

"A key to finding some treasure!" Omega chimed in, eagerly handing over the compass to you.

You smiled behind the mask, face still concealed as you took the golden disk and examined it. "Now this is interesting."

"Do you know it?" Hunter asked, trying to gauge the figure's knowledge.

"Perhaps," you replied, still remaining inconspicuous. Clearly you were not ready to share details with a stranger just yet. Though his voice sounded familiar, like...

You shook your head internally, banishing the thoughts of Echo, the clone who had been haunting your mind for some time ever since you left him.

Omega is scanning you, rather intrigued than nervous like Hunter was. To her, you looked just as badass as those action holomovies she watches with Wrecker from time to time.

“Well, what d’ya say? You in?”

Yourself and Omega look up at Phee as she speaks. “Of course. But for a price.”

“As always.” Phee smirks, causing you to chuckle just a tad. “Shall we discuss this after we have retrieved anything first?”

You nod, satisfied with that solution. After all, you had some research to do first.

“Great!” Phee clasps her hands together, swiping the disk from your grasp and jumps to sit on the table. “We will meet you there once you send the coordinates. I’ll inform the others too.”

You pause, how many people were on this journey? “Others?”

“My squad.” Hunter speaks up, walking over to you. “There will be, including you, seven of us on this hunt.”

"Seven?" You repeated, trying to mask the uneasiness in your voice. "Interesting number."

"Yes, it is," Hunter nodded, a hint of suspicion in his gaze. "So, what do you say? Are you ready to join us?"

You weighed your options, the thrill of the hunt and the possibility of a great reward at the end, against the potential danger that may arise with this unfamiliar group of people. Your thoughts then shifted to the memory of Echo, and the kiss shared between the two of you before you left. A shiver ran down your spine as you pushed those thoughts away.

"I'm in," you finally declared, a hint of resolve in your voice.

"Great," Phee nodded, a smirk playing on her lips.

You gave a curt nod, not entirely comfortable with the idea of relying on these people but understanding that in this line of work, it was better to have allies than enemies. But so often you worked alone. Supposedly, change can be good sometimes.

You then turned and left the bar and as you made your way to your ship, your thoughts once again strayed to Echo.

You couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow connected to this mission, and that thought both excited and terrified you. You quickly boarded your ship and set off, eager to start your search and hopefully find what you all were looking for. The thrill of the hunt and the possibilities it held, made you forget the worries and uncertainties that lingered in the back of your mind. For now, you were focused on one thing and one thing only: the treasure.

———————————

"There’s a fresh coat of blood here on the ground," Echo says, crouching down and delicately swiping his gloved finger over the crimson liquid. His face contorts in a frown behind his helmet. "It's still wet."

Omega nervously bites her lip. "Could it be her blood?" She glances over at Phee, the worry evident in her eyes.

When they reached the Kaldar Trinary System, as per your instructions, you were nowhere to be found. Phee was putting up a brave front, but the subtle apprehension in her eyes was palpable. Phee knew you well, and even though you preferred to work alone, you were always reliable when it came to sharing the spoils. So with your sudden disappearance, coupled with the fresh blood on the ground, it was causing alarm.

Tech takes a step forward, scanning the area. "It's definitely human blood," he confirms.

"She must have been hurt badly," Omega says, her frown deepening. Hunter's hand rests comfortingly on her shoulder.

"We don't know that it's her," Hunter tries to reassure her, but his words fall flat. Phee had tried multiple times to reach you through your communication device, but to no avail.

Echo lets out a sigh, his arms folded across his chest. Something inside him is stirring, causing his body to react in a frenzy, and he's not sure what it is. When Omega told the crew about a woman dressed in black, who they couldn't identify, Echo's thoughts immediately went to you. You fit the description perfectly, and he couldn't imagine it being anyone else… could it?

"Phee, how do you know this person?" Echo asks.

Phee looks over at Echo, surprised by his inquiry. "She's a pirate, like me," she replies, walking beside him as they delve deeper into the mountain in search of the treasure. "Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" Echo prompts.

"She used to be a pirate, but then she left the life," Phee explains, shrugging her shoulders. "She didn't like working in groups. Or, at least, that's what she told me. I think she was just scared of losing people."

Echo nods, taking in her words. "Was she fearless? A bit cocky?" He reminisces his run in with you and although his mind was often riddled with the thoughts of you kissing him, he did remember your character too.

"Oh, yes," Phee says, laughing. "Very much so. But she was also kind. She wouldn't hurt anyone unless it was necessary. I haven't spoken to her in a long time until today.”

The search for you and the treasure continued, guessing as much that you would’ve gone further inside for shelter from whatever caused your injury.

Unfortunately, they were just about to meet the source.

As the group ventured deeper into the cave, a monstrous creature with razor-sharp fangs descended upon them, latching onto Wrecker and trying to drag him into the abyss. The team frantically fired their weapons, until Wrecker managed to sever one of the creature's horns, freeing himself from its grasp.

Wrecker thudded to the ground, breathing heavily and wiping the saliva from his armor. "What the hell was that?" he groaned, trying to regain his composure.

"Just your average cave monster," you replied coolly, emerging from the shadows and drawing the attention of the group.

Omega rushed over, her face beaming with relief. "You're alive! We thought we'd lost you," she exclaimed, embracing you despite only just making her acquaintance today. Your eyes widen behind your mask but say nothing as you gently tap her shoulder as if to say thanks.

Phee approached, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady you as there was also a small hint of a limp. "Where are you hurt?" she asked, noticing the gash on the side of your head where the bloody they spotted better obviously came from.

You winced as you touched the injury, gritting your teeth. "Just my head, but I'll be fine.”

Your hood was slashed open, and Phee tsks as she inspected the injury. “You got a nasty cut there. You need it patching which means…”

“No,” you shake your head already knowing what it was she was hinting at, voice stern even through the modulator. “Let’s just keep going.” you replied determinedly.

As you turned to face the rest of the team, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a familiar helmet and scomp link. Your gaze met Echo's, and his expression was one of both surprise and suspicion.

“What are you doing here?” Echo speaks, eyes narrowed through his visor as he puts up a tough front though that’s mainly to hide how his heart leapt at the sight of you. After so long, he finally has you in his sight.

"Nice to see you too, mate," you replied, facing Echo fully and trying to hide the slight discomfort of the memories that came flooding back.

Tech glanced between the two of you, sensing the palpable tension, as did the rest of the team. "So, I gather you two have some history?"

"You could say that," Echo replied, still harboring anger towards you for leaving him stranded and cuffed in the past.

Omega's eyes widened in sudden realisation. "Wait, are you the one who kissed Echo?" she asked, breaking the tension and causing both of you to react in surprise.

You stood still, your eyes comically wide behind your mask, as Echo stumbled for an answer.

"You told her we kissed?" you asked, teasingly tilting your head and placing a hand on your hip.

"No!" Echo exclaimed quickly, aware of the smirk he imagined was hiding under the others' helmets. "O-Omega, how did you...?"

"I noticed lipstick around your lips when we came to get you," Omega explained, her words sending a warm flush through your body.

You blushed, unable to resist teasing him further. "Lucky boy," you said, your words sending a wave of heat through his body.

"Well, this reunion has been sweet, but we've got to keep moving," Phee interjects and you couldn’t be more glad that she did, trying to steer the group back on track.

As you, Phee, and Omega lead the way on the treasure hunt, you overhear one of Echo's brothers teasing him mercilessly about his relationship with you.

“When you did not receive the necklace for Cid’s buyer we were aware of your predicament when we first found you in that side-passage.” Tech speaks up, tapping away at his device to make sure they were all on the same right route, “I was not aware it was because you two were busy engaging in other activities.”

Echo sighs, not particularly embarrassed but annoyed that the others were now berating him about what really happened. He had said you had stolen the necklace back when he wasn’t looking which isn’t exactly a lie… he just missed out the part where you pulled him in for a kiss as a distraction.

“It wasn’t like that. It was just a small kiss.”

“Was it worth it?” Wrecker nudges him with a mischievous laugh.

Echo thinks back to that kiss, like he had done nearly every night for the last few months. The taste of your lips still somehow lingered on his own, the soft moans that poured out of your mouth as he pushed you up against the wall… absolutely it was.

Despite the playful ribbing, Echo remains tight-lipped about it, but as you glance over your shoulder at him, his gaze locking onto you, you can somehow tell by the way he looks at you that the memory still consumes him.

However, your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden shake in the mountain that causes the cave to collapse around you. Rocks fall from the ceiling in a deafening roar, and dust clouds fill the air, making it difficult to breathe. Panic sets in as you see a massive rock about to fall on top of you, but before it can make impact, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you to safety.

You look up and see Echo, the one who had saved you from harms way. Unexpected but not really a shock either.

After making contact with the others and ensuring both of your safety on the other side of the rubble, the two of you set out to find a way around the rubble blocking the path. You suggest that there may be a draft that could lead to the others, but as you take a step forward, you let out a sharp gasp and clutch onto the wall to keep from falling over.

“Need a hand?” Echo approaches, noticing that your ankle has given out. You refrain from rolling your eyes, unsure if his question was genuine or just a call back to the first time you met. But, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m alright, mate.”

He insists that you sit down and take a moment to rest and although you wanted to protest that you were fine, you knew you could not go any further. Upon examining your ankle, he discovers it's a sprain.

“Great.” You mumble, trying not to show the pain in your voice but as you speak, he looks up at you and his eyes land on the gash on your head you were so adamant to ignore.

“You need to have that patched up. No ifs or buts.” He tells you sternly, your head snapping up to look at him through your mask as you adamantly shake your head.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He counters you, grabbing a medkit from his bag already and pulling out the items neccesary. “Take your hood down and mask off.”

The thought of him seeing your face terrified you. There was nothing wrong with you but you always felt a sense of vulnerability whenever people could read your face. Behind it all, the mask was purely to hide your emotions, not just your face. “I can’t.”

He pauses and sighs as he takes his helmet off, setting it to the ground. “If I can, so can you.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Will your head fall off?”

“Well, no but-.”

“Exactly.” He scowls at you a little. “Let me help you.”

"Fine," you grudgingly concede. As your hand comes up to take down your hood in front of him, it begins to shake with nerves which didn’t go unnoticed. So reluctantly, he gently takes your hands and lowers them, moving slowly as he removes your mask and hood. Your heart races as Echo's gaze meets yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite place.

“What did you do to your head?” He asks.

“You met it.” You hum, rolling your eyes this time as you refer to the creature that almost killed Wrecker. “I was waiting outside until it appeared out of nowhere.”

Despite your reservations, he begins to treat your head wound with gentle care. His touch sends shivers down your spine, somehow reminding you of the steamy kiss the two of you had shared. And for a moment where there had been tension and animosity between you two, it had been momentarily forgotten.

As he works, you can't help but watch him, studying the lines of his face, the set of his jaw. He can feel your gaze and as he briefly looks down to see how you were coping, his lips almost part in awe. You were beautiful. Suddenly timid and shy, but beautiful.

"There," he says, snapping you both out of your reveries, "all better." He hands you back your mask, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Thank you.” You say softly, and he almost melts at your voice which was no longer hidden behind a modulator. He had heard it before but he had forgotten how lovely it was.

“You’re welcome,” he sits back and starts packing things away but he is watching you from the corner of his eyes. There’s conflict in your eyes and he isn’t surprised when you start talking.

“I’m sorry about all those months ago.” you whisper, reflecting back on the memory. "What I did was wrong."

Echo nods, understanding that you're referring to more than just the act of cuffing him. "You had to keep me from coming after you and the necklace. I can't blame you for that."

"No, I mean...the kiss," you clarify, your voice a little unsteady. "It was impulsive and foolish. I lied when I said I saw it in holomovies. The truth is, I don't have the time to watch such things."

Echo can sense the embarrassment in your voice, and he finds it charming. He can't help but wonder where the idea for the kiss came from, if not from movies. "So why did you kiss me, knowing it would distract the troopers?"

You offer a small shrug and a chuckle. "It was a common sense move. Public displays of affection can make people uncomfortable. Even if the troopers did shout for us to find a private room."

Echo watches you, feeling himself falling for you despite the obstacles between you. "And if I recall correctly," he says, his tone a little daring, "you said 'maybe we should'."

Your cheeks flush with a deeper shade of pink and you tilt your head back, letting a sweet smile dance on your lips. "Well, it was a really nice kiss so maybe, I meant it." you admit, trying to keep your composure.

Echo's eyes widen in surprise at your confession, and he feels a flutter in his chest. "Really?" he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

"Really, really," you say, inching closer to him, your hand resting on his knee. It was a bold move on your part but if you had read his mood towards you correctly then…

Echo panics, thinking that your hand may have felt his prosthetic limb, but you don't seem to mind. "I have prostheses," he says quickly, bracing himself for a reaction.

But you simply smile softly, your hand remaining on his knee. "I don't mind, Echo," you say reassuringly.

His heart races, caught up in the moment, in the look in your eyes, and the touch of your hand on his metal knee cap. "What's your name?" he asks carefully, despite having asked before when you first met.

This time however, you answer, and he repeats it softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. "It's a beautiful name, for a beautiful lady."

You feel your head spinning, completely taken aback by his words. It had been a long time since you told anyone your name, liking to keep an obvious low profile but there was something about Echo that you trusted. Also, you have never thought of yourself as beautiful, but to Echo, you are. "N-no, I'm not," you stammer, feeling shy, but Echo takes hold of your hand and holds it tightly.

"Yes, you are. You are to me," he says, looking deep into your eyes.

"Echo," you gasp, completely overwhelmed by the rush of emotions and thoughts coursing through you.

"Yes?" he asks, sensing that there's something you want to say.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind flooded with thoughts of the mission, of him, of the past, of your vulnerability, and of everything else. But at that moment, all you can think about are his lips. "Can we kiss again?" you ask, looking up at him through lowered lashes.

He lets out a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by your request. Without a moment's hesitation however, he pulls you close to him, his arms wrapping securely around your waist while being mindful of your injured ankle. He’s leaning in, both of your senses clouded when….

Beep!

You pull back, startled a little at the interruption as Echo lets out an aggravated sigh as he answers the call, giving you an apologetic look.

“Echo, where are you?” Hunter is the one talking.

“We’ve had to find a way around and-.” He stops himself from saying your name, respecting you enough to not say anything if you don’t want him to, “Phee’s friend has hurt her ankle so we’re taking our time.”

When the comm ended, he gives you a sheepish look and you give him a shy one back. “We should keep going.” You mumble, gingerly standing up, Echo being quick to join you and slinging your arm over his shoulder for support. You’re both disappointed that you got interrupted but it wasn’t the ideal moment to start kissing in a dark cave with a strange creature lurking about anyway. Perhaps a better time will come later.

—————————————

“I can’t catch a break today.”

You stood in front of your ship, well, what remained of your ship. A huge pile of ash.

After the carnage that ensued inside the mountain which actually turned out to be a large walking killing machine, your ship just so happened to be in its line of fire. So with a gash on your head, sprained ankle, nearly getting killed again by the creature that almost flung you out the window, an incinerated ship AND no treasure… it hasn’t been your finest hour.

“Ah, sorry doll.” Phee pats your shoulder, staring at your hood and mask you had out back on before joining the others. “I’m sure these guys will give you a lift?”

You look at Echo and despite not being able to see your features, he knew you had some of the prettiest pleading eyes. “Of course.” Hunter speaks up.

“Appreciate it.” You nod to him and then follow after Omega as she bounds up the ship's steps, all the while you lean against Phee as you walk.

Once touched down back on Ord Mantell, you quietly sat by yourself at the bar to Cid’s face tucked down in your datapad.

You're soon joined by a presence, not surprised that it was Echo. He sat with his back to the bar, giving you company but also listening to Phee telling a story about another grand adventure.

“Typical.” You mumble yet an amused smirk plays on your face.

“What is?”

“Phee. I hope you’re aware that the stories she tells are.-“

“A lie?”

“No.” You shake your head, giving him an amused chuckle. “Mine.”

His eyes widen a little. “Yours?”

“Yep.” You sigh, popping the ‘p’. “I one upped her a while ago and in return because I felt bad, she wanted some stories of mine to tell. Little did I know she would spin it about her. But if it makes her happy…”

Echo is both amused yet shocked at how chill you were about someone taking credit for your seemingly amazing adventures. “Sounds like you’ve had a fun life as a Pirate.”

You roll your eyes at the word although Echo couldn’t see it. “I guess, but there’s one story I like to keep to myself.” You say, a little obvious that it was clearly about him.

“Oh really?” He asks with a smirk that makes you melt inside.

“Yeah.” You breathe softly, trying not to get carried away by being sucked into his alluring eyes so you swiftly change the topic. “I rented out a room a few blocks from here. Will be staying a few days whilst I figure out what ship to buy.”

Echo is delighted to hear that you’ll be staying around. But, he felt bad about your predicament. “Sorry about your ship.”

“Thanks but nobody would have guessed finding treasure meant unleashing a killing machine.” You say playfully despite the latter. “I best get going before it gets too late.”

Suddenly, the thought of what was said earlier played in his mind. You wanted to kiss him… you maybe wanted to get a room with him… would he be stupid to not act upon this now?

As you stood up, Echo rose to his feet, a little too eagerly. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't hide his eagerness. "A-are you sure you can make it to your destination with that injured ankle?"

You turned to face him with a soft laugh. "Do you want to accompany me?” You took a step closer, your heart fluttering as Echo remained steadfast, not backing away.

"I could carry you,” he said with a level tone, this time stepping forward and tilting his head to get a better look at your reaction behind your mask. Despite the disguise, Echo knew what you wanted, and deep down, you knew it too.

Glancing around, you saw that his friends were deeply engrossed in their own conversation. You inched closer, pressing a button on your mask that made your voice modulator drop, as you whisper, "you could carry me straight to the bedroom, if you really wanted."

Echo's body trembled with desire, his fingers itching to touch you, but he resisted.

Until he couldn’t.

He took a deep breath and said, "Come here," as he swept you into his arms and carried you out of the parlor, down the blocks and up to the room you had rented, unnoticed by the others.

You let out a gasp of surprise, clutching his shoulders to stay steady as he strode confidently towards the room. A warm flush spread through your body. "Eager?" you teased. But when he stopped outside the door, he looked at you with a serious expression.

"Do... do you want me come to in with you?" he stammered, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Yes, I absolutely do," you replied, your eyes shining with anticipation.

You swiped the door open with the code you received and once in, your hands pulls at your mask and hood, tossing them carelessly to the ground.

Echo is amazed by your move, almost smitten that you were so comfortable with showing your face around him once alone. “Where should I…?” He held his breath, scanning the room as he gestured where to place you until you replied with the bedroom.

His heart begins to thump but wasted no time in taking you to the desired location, the tension of desire thick in the air.

Though, he doesn’t just sit you down on the bed.. instead he sits first, pulling you into his lap. You’re both staring at one another, eyes searching one another. For someone so cocky usually, you were unusually quiet but expressed a bashful yet flirty expression.

"Thanks for carrying me here," you say, your voice tinged with seductive undertones as you gaze into Echo's eyes. "But don't tell me you're just going to sit here and stare at me like a statue?" Your eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint, your lips curling into a sly smirk.

Echo's heart races as he feels the tension of desire growing thicker between the two of you. Despite his usually moody demeanor, he just can't help but feel infatuated with your bold and mysterious persona.

"Why settle for just staring,” he starts, eyes blown with lust as he lowered his head to you, “when we can do so much more?" Echo says, his voice low and husky. He pulls you closer, your bodies pressed intimately against one another. You feel his breath on your skin, the heat of his body warming yours.

"I couldn't agree more," you whisper, a blush rising to your cheeks.

Then, he presses his lips to yours, with a tender yet urgent passion.

You had longed for this moment, to feel his lips against yours again, and as he whispers your name, it ignites a fiery heat deep within you. "Echo," you murmur back, as you tilt your head, allowing him better access. His hand rises to cup your cheek, his touch electric and sending shivers down your spine.

He moans softly into your mouth, his voice deep and intoxicating, as you savor the taste of his breath. The embrace of his arm around you tightens, and you both consider deepening the kiss, but then he backs away, fearing he may overstep. But you have other ideas.

You pull back, gazing into his eyes with a seductive expression, and then teasingly lick his lips, slow and alluring.

“I feel like that makes up for last time, doesn’t it?” You purr against him, fully remembering when he had tried to slip his tongue into your mouth in a moment of passion.

"Maker," he exhales, his body shaking with pleasure. He reclaims your lips, his initial doubts now a distant memory as he begins to explore your mouth, first licking at your lips, and then finally slipping inside to taste your tongue.

Wet, dominating and strong muscles dancing in a fiery passion, your hands grip hard onto his shoulders as you rut just a little against him as your tongues explored one another. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” You admitted, pulling away breathless and severely turned on.

His heart blooms at your confession, any worry of you finding it weird that he thought about you a lot fleeing from his mind. “Me too.” He groans at the feeling of your subtle grinding against his lap, trying not to get too worked up. After all, the two of you were in a cave and should've met up with the others ages ago.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mutters as he flips you onto your back, carefully hovering over you and encasing you against his body and the bed.

You lean up and kiss his lips once more, sighing into him as he begins to trace his lips down to your jaw and then your neck.

The noises that came from the room were filth. Lots of moaning, cursing and loving.

You’re both entangled in the sheets, never getting enough of one another, both of you seeming to refuse to let each other not miss out on any affection. It isn’t long until your clothes are flung from your body, Echo shedding his armour and clothes too.

“Maker, I have never felt like this before.” He groans against your neck, sucking on a sweet spot, “I can’t stop kissing you.” He pants, whining just a touch as your hips grind up to meet his.

“Then don’t stop,” you whimper, fingers clawing at his back whilst yours arches in pleasure, “please don’t stop.”

Part One | Part Two

Masterlist

Tags and those who wanted a second part: @lovepaws @burningfieldof-clover @storm-breaker7 @ttzamara @tech-deck @madameminor @latinachiquita @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka a @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san n @echos-girlfriend @whore4rex @fiveshelmet t @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @rintheemolion @hotpinkplastoid @the-good-shittt @photogirl894

#the bad batch #echo bad batch #bad batch echo #nahoney22 writes #echo x reader #echo x you #bad batch echo x you #bad batch echo x reader #tbb

[bengiyo]

23.5 Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we confirmed via Chaoren that many of our characters are some kind of queer, and she assured Ongsa that Gay is Okay! Things slowed down a little bit for a club fair, during which Luna became competitive with Ton about the Astronomy club outperforming the Mysterious Stories club. The club decided to set up fortune teller stations based on astrology, with the premise that they would share facts about various planets alongside their fortune telling. Ongsa and Sun learned that their signs are compatible. It was fun seeing them prepare for the fair, because Chaoren, Tinh, and Sun came over to help, and it was the first time Ongsa and Aylin had friends over. The club succeeded, and we had yet another extremely charged moment between Ongsa and Sun, but left on a confession cliffhanger I know will annoy me.

I AM ANNOYED. Ongsa pulled back! Hang in there, Ongsa! I am rooting for you!

I am with her on being scared to face a potential rejection, especially if she’s nervous about homophobia, but I am not with the hedging inherent to the Earth persona.

Episode 5: The Gift

I don’t believe that Alpha didn’t know that Aylin was having social problems.

I wonder if the translator had fun with the English lesson going on in the background.

Ongsa, girl, you can’t agree to this party in both personas.

I am relieved that the whole squad told Ongsa to step up and that this behavior was wrong on multiple front. Especially pleased with Aylin calling out the cowardice.

I’m glad this show isn’t presenting bullying as playful or quirky or harmless. Luna is right to go off on those kids.

Luna is definitely flirting. That was smooth. It also looks like she’s getting through.

Ongsa, you got me stressed now.

I love how low-key Sun’s party feels. I doubt I’d be outside in Thai heat though.

The relationship between Aylin and Ongsa is so compelling. View and Milk found a great rhythm here.

No…Ongsa was so close to coming clean.

I am pre-embarrassed for Sun. This is not great!

MAKE IT RIGHT MENTIONED.

Making Sun cry on her birthday is a bridge too far!

Oh no, not more lies.

Oh, Lord, Sun finds out on her own next week!

I’m so tense! I get Ongsa, but I’m also so stressed. I hope the show lets Sun be properly upset about all of this later.

#Ben watches #23.5 degrees #23.5 the series #thai gl #gl series

[topguncortez]

I love your shy MC series so much, and I know this doesn’t really fit in it, but I can’t stop thinking of a shy MC who had a one night stand with hangman and got pregnant saying this:

“maybe we should move in together. n-not permanently. just until the baby’s born.”

I love this:)

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader word count: 2k prompts list:)

It was just supposed to be a night of fun. A night where you completely lose sight of anything and everything. A night where in the morning you wake up in your bathtub with a half drunk bottle of tequila. It wasn't ever supposed to equal in a positive pregnancy test six weeks later.

Y/N didn't even know his number to call him. All she could remember was that his friends called him 'Bagman' but his real name was Jake. He had a stupidly perfect smile, and stupidly perfect hair. He was charming and had a bit of an accent in his speech. She could also remember they bonded over the fact they had just gotten out of long-term failed relationships. One shot led into another, and it led into another and then it led to Jake taking Y/N home, and their clothes on the floor of her bedroom.

"I have no clue what to do, Nat," Y/N said to her best friend.

"Well, I guess call the guy," Natasha said.

She couldn’t believe that her shy, sweet best friend since birth would end up in this situation either. Natasha and Y/N had always been opposites of each other in a way. Natasha was always the “wild” one in their friendship, encouraging the drinking and partying, within reason of course. 

“I don’t have his number, or-or anything,” Tears started clouding her vision as she stood up from the bed and started pacing, “My parents are going to kill me.” 

“Okay,” Natasha stood up, and grabbed her friend’s arms, stopping her from pacing, “It’ll be okay. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, they will probably be mad, but you have me. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be here the whole time, and hold your hand through anything and everything. You’re basically my sister, okay? You got this.” 

“I can do this,” Y/N said, nodding and Natasha smiled. 

That moment was six months ago, and Y/N still hadn’t found the father of her baby. She also wasn’t actively searching either. She wasn’t new to hookup culture, she knew what one-night stands were meant to be. It didn’t surprise her when this Jake dude didn’t leave his number or address on her bedside table in the morning. Y/N could hardly even remember what he looked like, except those piercing green eyes. She hoped that her baby had the same beautiful green eyes as he did. 

Natasha, true to her word, had stayed by her friend’s side through it all. Through those early mornings spent throwing up, to doctors appointments, to looking at paint swatches on the walls of the small house Y/N lived in. Natasha had a bunch of questions about this mystery guy, but out of respect for her friend, she didn’t ask. 

The two of them walked into the Hard Deck, seeing as the evening crowd was already starting to file in. Natasha had invited Y/N along to celebrate Rooster’s birthday. Rooster had also become a close friend of Y/N, through her friendship with Natasha. Rooster had tried to make a move on her, but Natasha had cornered him and told him about Y/N being pregnant and scared and to stay away. So, Rooster being the man he is, respected both of them, and helped out the best he could with things around Y/N’s house. 

“Phoenix! Y/N!” Rooster called for them as soon as they entered the Hard Deck. Phoenix nodded over at him and led Y/N over to where Rooster and the other members of the Dagger Squad were. Rooster hugged both of them, and thanked them for coming. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Bob said, as the girl sat down next to him. As the only two sober ones as of late, Bob and Y/N had gotten close. He handed her a lemonade that he ordered and she smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Bob,” Y/N said, and rested her hands on her belly. 

“Baby active?” 

“All day,” Y/N looked down at her belly just in time to see a small nudge coming from within her womb, “Running out of room in there, and they don’t like it. But I’m not entirely ready for them to make their appearance either.” 

“Soon enough, Y/N, soon enough,” Bob said, and took a sip of his water. 

The two of them fell into a conversation about their day. For both of them, it was as easy as breathing to talk to one another. Natasha thought that Bob would be a good match for her friend, and had been slowly pushing him to make a move on her. Natasha knew that Bob liked Y/N, but he was too much of a gentleman to make a move. It wasn’t that Bob was scared to take on the responsibility of being a father, it was that he respected her and didn’t want to add to the stress of becoming a mother. Bob had silently agreed to be there for her too, like Rooster and Natasha were. 

“Look who decided to show up!” Payback yelled, catching Y/N and Bob’s attention. Her heart stopped beating as she noticed those green eyes and that stupidly perfect smile, “If it ain’t Bagman!” 

“Oh my god,” Y/N let out, and Bob looked at her in worry. 

“What? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” Bob asked quickly, his voice thick with his accent. 

“What? I uh,” Y/N said, snapping out of her trance as ‘Bagman’  walked through the bar and greeted his friends, “No it’s not the baby, I um, excuse me.” 

Bob watched as Y/N got up quickly from the booth, and walked right over to Natasha. Phoenix looked up at her with a smile, but it quickly dropped seeing that her friend’s face was unreadable. Y/N quickly grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her towards the bathrooms, only to be stopped when her shoulder ran into something hard. 

“I’m sorry-” “Oh sorry-” 

“Y/N,” Jake said, his green eyes looking her up and down and widening at the sight of her baby bump, “Wow.” 

“I can-” 

“We’re gonna go get some air,” Natasha said quickly, and pulled her friend towards the back door of the Hard Deck. Once they were out of earshot of the bar, Y/N sat down in one of the chairs on the deck, and took a deep breath, “I’m not gonna ask but-” 

“He’s the father of my child.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I was not gonna ask,” Natasha said, and rubbed her forehead, “When?” 

“Well, six months ago. Two weeks after Daniel and I broke up. I went out for a drink, and Jake was there because he-” 

“Just broke up with Gwen. So you two had a one night stand and,” Natasha gestured to her friend, “Wow. I can't believe it. . . You slept with Hangman?” 

“Hangman? I thought it was Bagman,” Y/N said, and Natasha laughed, “I didn’t even know his name was Jake until we were half naked in my bed. I didn’t know a single thing about him.” 

“Oh my god! Ew! So you’re the girl he was bragging about fucking! Oh my god.” 

“Really? What did he say? Did he say I was good?” 

“Y/N!” 

“What?!” She giggled and Natasha shook her head, as the back door to the Hard Deck opened. Jake walked out apprehensively, and gave a tight lipped smile to Phoenix, “I think you two need to talk.” Y/N nodded and Natasha looked back at Jake, who was waiting by the side of the building to come over, “I’ll be right inside if you need me.” 

“I think I got this,” Y/N said and Natasha hugged her friend before heading back inside the building. Jake waited a second, before walking over to her, and sitting down in front of her. Y/N took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, feeling the glare of Jake’s green eyes on her belly. 

“How far along?” He asked. 

“Twenty-nine weeks,” She answered, and Jake sighed. She could tell by his body language, he wanted to touch her belly. Rooster had been the same way when she popped, wanting to feel it, but Natasha had smacked his hand back and made him ask, “You can touch it.” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” He looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered, and Jake shifted, placing his large hand on her bump. He felt the overwhelming sense to cry as he rubbed his hands gently over the place where his baby was. He didn’t even bother to ask if the baby was his, he already knew. Even though they spent one night together, Jake knew that Y/N wasn’t the type to go and sleep around. 

“I’m sorry I just left.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t try and find you,” Y/N said, “Even though I didn’t know where to look.” 

“I honestly was scared to stay,” Jake said, and removed his hands from her bump. She bit back a whimper at the loss of warmth from him, as he sat back in his chair, “I knew you probably just wanted one night, but I. . . I fell in love with you.” 

“Jake, I-” 

“No, you don’t have to say it,” Jake said shaking his head, “Just tell me what I can do now. Are you okay? Is the baby healthy? You look good, so I guess that means something.” 

Y/N blushed and rubbed her belly, “I’m good, baby is healthy. It’s a little girl, actually.” 

“Really? I’m gonna be a girl dad,” Jake smiled and Y/N nodded. The two sat in silence for a beat, as Jake shifted in his seat, and leaned closer to her, “Maybe we should move in together. N-not permanently. Just until the baby’s born.”

“Oh! Like in my house?” 

“Yeah, I still live in a barracks dorm, and you probably have the house set up and-” 

“I think that would be okay,” Y/N said, her neck was bright red as she blushed, “I have a guest room, currently an office, but it has a nice bed and stuff. And I mean, it would be nice having you around, not that you couldn’t have been nice early, but you didn’t know so it’s okay that you are here now and I-” 

“I get it,” Jake said, cutting her rambling off, “Would you like to meet up tomorrow? For lunch?” 

“Lunch is good,” Y/N smiled, and looked over at the window of the bar, seeing both Natasha and Bradley looking at them, “We should head back in.” Jake nodded, and held his hand out for her to take. She thanked him as she pushed herself up from the chair, and began walking back in the bar. She paused for a second and turned around to face Jake. 

“Listen, I know you are a good man, and that you want to be there for your child but. . . Jake, I have feelings for someone else.” 

Jake felt like a dagger had been pushed through his heart. He could tell that she probably didn’t feel the same about him when he mentioned that he fell in love with her seven months ago. She had been the only thing on Jake’s mind these past couple weeks, wondering where she was and who she was and what she was doing. But hearing her say it hurt even more than just thinking it. 

“I know,” Jake said, giving her a tight lipped smile, “Still not going to stop me from carrying about you or my child.”

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun blurb #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick blurb #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman blurb #hangman x reader #Jake seresin #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin blurb

[highladyluck]

AU thought: Nynaeve is born in Seanchan and raised from childhood as a damane

Immediate first thought (besides ‘why did you choose violence’) is that she’d probably be the best, still. She’s making it onto Tuon’s entourage. I am in pain thinking about it.

This is my AU, so I’m going to solve a personal mystery and say that her dad is Ajimbura & she’s from the Kaensada Hills. Let’s say her mom still died early from illness & dad still taught her how to hunt & track before she was tested. In fact, Ajimbura treated Nyneave as his son because he had seen her channeling at an unusually early age & was hoping declaring her his son could protect her from being made damane.

The Kaensada Hills are rural and unassimilated enough that this was not quite as useless an idea as it might seem, and let’s say they also had very functional ideas of gender roles- if someone does Man Things, they are A Man for all intents and purposes, or vice versa.

Spoiler: It doesn’t work, the sul’dam do eventually get around to testing even there and if there’s a saidar channeler, they’re gonna grab her. Nyneave becomes damane around 13. She still has that Talent for Healing, but because most Seanchan don’t want a damane working on them in that way, she’s only allowed to practice on other damane. It’s a Talent and not something that can be taught very well, which also dampens people’s enthusiasm about it since it’s not super replicable.

She’s still ridiculously powerful even with this somewhat problematic skill, though, and so she sees a lot of use in combat situations. Nyneave comes to Tuon’s attention when Nyneave’s sul’dam makes a judgement call & lets her bring one of Tuon’s favorite damane back from the brink of death after a combat injury. Tuon’s like ‘mine now’ and Nyneave joins the favorites squad.

Nyneave’s been with Tuon for ~6 years by the WH timeline. Once Ajimbura finds out where she is (since she’s higher-profile now that she’s with Tuon), he’s like ‘I must kill the Daughter of the Nine Moons’s father to avenge the loss of my son’ but her father is dead already (of ‘a bad wager’ in this timeline too) so he decides that as male captain of her bodyguard, Furyk Karede stands in loco parentis to Tuon, and therefore he must be killed.

After 3 failed revenge murder attempts, by the custom of his people, the debt rebounds upon Ajimbura and now he must become like Furyk Karede’s son and follow his trade.

This is the mechanism that Ajimbura’s people, distant descendants of the AoL Aiel, devised to stop blood feuds. If you try to revenge murder the same person three times & you can’t hack it, you have to join your enemy’s family instead and act in their interests. Most people don’t want to take that risk, or pick easier-to-kill enemies, so there’s a lot of trophy-hunting instead, kind of like how the Aiel have implemented complex prisoner of war rules so less people die.

So that’s why Ajimbura is Karede’s unhinged manservant in THIS universe. Still wish I knew why he’s there in canon!

Because I do not want Nyneave to suffer unduly, let’s say she comes with Tuon instead of Mylen (whose battlefield-medicine-descended-Healing is less impressive when compared to Nyneave’s Talent). Nyneave also represents Seanchan supremacy in a homegrown ‘we’re better than you’ way rather than a ‘we’ll brainwash you all’ way. Slightly different message, similar outcome.

She gets captured by our heroes at some point & basically has some of Alivia’s arc after that, but because she worked with Tuon and has insider info on her, she’s got more to do in Rand’s inner circle than just make people uncomfortable & lay out his outfit for the rest of his life. Actually, you know what, let’s full-circle this, the former Wisdom of Emond’s Field is Alivia Al’Meara & she’s the one who makes the call to uncollar Nyneave when she asks for it.

Also, Nyneave becomes friends with Aviendha because Avi meets her once and is like ‘forgive me but you’re the spitting image of my second-sister’s first-daughter’ (or whatever) and then they figure out that the Kaensada Hills tribes are also descended from AoL Aiel, and this connection becomes very important later on when the Kaensada Hills tribes strike out for independence in the aftermath of the entire Imperial family being murdered & the civil wars in mainland Seanchan.

#wheel of time #wot book spoilers #au ask game #gunkstateuniversity #Nyneave as damane AU #problematic fave Tuon #honestly many things still to figure out here like Nyneave’s gender identity & how Ajimbura handles civil war in Seanchan #also how Nyneave-like is Alivia al’Meara? #but whatever I think I got at least 5 facts in here so I can stop

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Clone Bang Promo Post: Team 35!

The members of @clonebang Team 35 are proud to announce our upcoming contributions to the Clone Bang! 🎉

I wrote Built on Bones and Middens, a 90K (!!!!) Commander Fox/Quinlan Vos mystery fic set late in the war on Coruscant. This Fox POV story follows our hard-knock, heavy-drinking commander as he (and a very irritating Jedi) dive deep into Coruscant's underworld to solve a mystery before Fox's brothers suffer the worst fate.

Action! Intrigue! Banter! A fatalistic view of Coruscant's inherent corruption!

Check out a snippet under the cut. Chapter 1 posts on January 6th, 2024!

The immensely talented @sankt-jesper contributed their artistic chops. Here is a might fine preview for you:

And the dulcet-toned @flowerparrish did a podfic for one of the chapters! For a scintillating preview, please enjoy a recording of the snippet below.

Friends, I'm so excited to share this work with you all. It is the longest thing I've ever written (by a lot) and it was so lovely to collaborate with others to create these works. This was my first Star Wars fandom event and I had a lot of fun. Enjoy!

🎉

“Are you sure?” Vos asked. “They make the best Ithorian food on the planet. Would you like to try it?”

“I would like,” Fox said, keeping his voice level, “to know what we’re doing here.”

Vos went still again, eyes locked on Fox’s face with the air of a predator preparing to pounce. Fox regarded him back evenly and tried very hard not to find it intimidating. 

Once again, Vos’ smile emerged after a moment. He relaxed back into his chair. “All business, I see. No worries, Fox, I won’t waste your time. We needed to be able to speak openly and that called for a change of scenery.” Vos spread out his arms, indicating the decor. “And also a change of wardrobe. I suppose you’re wondering where I left my robes.”

Fox took another sip of his whiskey. Damn, it was good. “I wasn’t going to comment on your fashion choices,” he said.

“Big of you,” Vos replied breezily. “Here at The Little Dipper I’m known as Garyth Lidon, a small-time gangster trying to break into the casino business. He has… a certain look I need to maintain.” Vos tugged a little at his voluminous trousers.

“And why,” Fox asked, “are we meeting at Garyth Lidon’s favorite restaurant to discuss this case instead of the secure GAR facility?”

Vos hummed. “Not so secure, though, is it?”

Fox looked down at his glass, swirled the whiskey around. He took a moment to control his expression. “You have a problem with my security?” he asked cooly.

“Oh, don’t be insulted, Fox!” Vos cried as he flopped back in his chair. “It’s nothing against you personally. I’m sure you run a very tight ship. But we can’t ignore the obvious here, can we? It was clones who attacked Obi-Wan and we don’t know why.” He spoke with his hands, rings catching the light as they moved. “Maybe they were just angry mutineers. Maybe they were brainwashed by a Sith. Maybe they swallowed one of those brain slugs from Geonosis!” Vos leaned forward, elbows on the table, and pointed at Fox. “Maybe it was the first attack of a massive coup and you brought two squads here to kill me when my back is turned.” 

Fox raised an eyebrow and used his glass to point at one of the windows. “My sniper is getting into position now, I’m just waiting for the signal.”

Vos snorted and sat back again. “I get it, I do, Fox. You have faith in your brothers, as you should. But we have no idea who we can trust here, even among friends. So we’re going to keep this investigation as far away from the GAR and the RCMO and that bantha-kriffer Tarkin as we can. And that starts with meeting at fine establishments like this one.”

“You don’t trust Tarkin either?” Fox asked.

Vos shrugged. “We don’t know how far up this goes. The attackers told Commander Cody they were acting under orders, but not who gave them. We can’t rule anyone out yet.”

Fox tried not to be too pleased at the idea that he might get a chance to arrest Tarkin, far-fetched though it may be.

“And the serene mystic act?” Fox asked.

“Ah!” Vos waggled his eyebrows. “That was my spot-on impression of Obi-Wan’s late master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He could stonewall politicians with all that Force babble for hours. When we have to be under close supervision I want to discourage anyone from asking too many questions. And no one wants to talk to the guy that makes you want to strangle him after two sentences.” 

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“Then I’m doing my job!”

Fox allowed himself to relax a little. Vos wasn’t what he had expected from this meeting and he certainly wasn’t like any of the other Jedi Fox had met. But he didn’t seem to care if Fox got a little sarcastic with him. Vos himself had insisted they forgo the formalities. Maybe he wouldn’t be too much of a hindrance during this investigation. Even if he was a little… cocky.

#my writing #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanart #cb2023 #commander fox #quinlan vos #quinlan x fox #podfic