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jungle-angel · 8 months

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The Little Bookworm (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob can't get enough of your kids being obsessed with books

It was the gloomiest of fall days with the skies over Montana having gone darker than expected, almost as if night were setting in at lunchtime.

Auggie had been perched on the little bay window seat in the living room, the rain battering the diamond paned windows while the woodstove in the living room made the house warm and cozy. Bob didn't particularly like having the tv on all day, but The Nightmare Before Christmas seemed like the perfect background noise on a day like this and with Halloween fast approaching, it made it even better.

Bob smiled a little seeing his little mini-me completely engrossed in one of the books you had gotten him. Auggie had always loved pulling books from the shelf, no matter how big or how small they were and loved making up his own stories to tell you, Bob and the rest of the family.

"Auggie, come and eat," Bob called from the kitchen.

Auggie giggled and shut his book, running right for the kitchen and seating himself into his chair. Bob had definitely outdone himself this time, grilled cheese with bacon, a side of kettle cooked potato chips and a kosher dill pickle on the side.

"Whatcha reading buddy?" Bob asked him.

"Um.....I dunno," Auggie chirped with a big grin on his face before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"You don't know?!" Bob questioned, pretending to be shocked.

"It's about these three guys and a bad guy who doesn't like them so they've gotta stop him," Auggie explained.

The more Auggie chattered, the more Bob couldn't control the broad smile on his face. The Three Musketeers had been one of his favorites growing up, one that his father had grown up reading as well. Now that Auggie was reading it, he was proud beyond words that his love of the book had been passed down to his son.

As soon as lunch was done, Bob took a look at Auggie's bookshelf and made a list of other books that he didn't have, noting that they would most likely be his Christmas gift that year. He made his way upstairs while Auggie scooted back to his little corner, hoping you were still up in your shared bedroom and sure enough, you were.

"Still working away Mrs. Floyd?" he asked, scooting in next to you.

"All I can do Bob," you told him.

You had been needle-felting all day as a movie played out on the tv that was mounted on the wall. Bob felt awful that you were on strict bedrest, but after the last ultrasound appointment, you both knew it was what you and your baby girl needed. Luckily Reagan and her husband, Elijah, lived close by in case anything came up, but it still made Bob nervous whenever you got up in the middle of the night to pee.

Yet he was in awe at the Halloween decorations you had made for Auggie's kindergarten class, little pumpkins that looked like fairy houses, witches in their pointed little hats and little brooms in their hands, fuzzy little bats with googly eyes and silly looking little spiders, black cats with slinky little tails, ghosts with their mouths wide open and even two little figures that turned out to be Jack and Sally and even a little Zero from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

"Did you do all this while I was downstairs?" Bob asked, picking up the soft, fuzzy little figures.

"Yep," you answered proudly. "Kay told me that while the kids were outside playing in the yard, Auggie, Gabe, Nicky and Pete were all collecting sticks and wanted to bring them home. I figured I could use them to make a little Halloween tree."

Bob remembered having been a kid at that type of school and having had Kay's mother for his kindergarten teacher. They were wonderful days, learning how to make fresh bread and soup for lunch, playing with his friends, listening to stories and plenty of playing outside. Yet they had been tough too. Bob remembered some days when his father had gotten a deployment notice. He would hide out in a corner of the classroom and cry until Kay's mother had to gently coax him out. Bob had made damn sure that Auggie, Patrick and any other children you might have, would never have to go through that when they started school. But luckily, Bob and the rest of the Daggers had been fully and honorably discharged by the time Patrick had been born.

"You've gotta teach me how to do this because I'm curious now," Bob chuckled.

"Believe me I will," you told him. "I need a partner so I can keep from getting bored."

Up the stairs came those familiar little feet you heard running through the house day after day on the weekends. "Daddy, Daddy," Auggie chirped again. "Can you read to me?"

"C'mere buddy," Bob said, lifting him up into the bed with his book and putting him between you both.

You rode out the rest of the rainy afternoon, reading The Three Musketeers and the adventures they had lived. Auggie was practically jumping with excitement whenever Bob read the swordfight scenes, the both of you happy and proud that he was your little bookworm.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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playbucky · 4 months

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Operation Safe House | 2 |

Price needs a safe house, you have a safe house. Should be an easy deal, right? Well when he and the team appear in the middle of the night, you come across Ghost, Gaz and Soap, all who are unsure of you an the solitude that you have. The solitude that will soon beep broken when the people they are hunting show up unannounced. Characters - Reader (Reaper), Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz. Word Count - 2k.

Part 1

‘Samuel, it’s Samuel Reagan.’ You faltered at their name, you looked at his broken fingers, they were bloody and had started to turn purple. ‘Who?’ ‘You heard me.’ He leaned closer, you clenched your jaw as you brought the rolling pin down, it connected with his fingers again. ‘Why is he here?’ You asked. ‘You helped the wrong people last month.’ Percy breathed out, your brows furrowed. ‘The two girls?’ You asked, not saying their names but he nodded. ‘Anya was his wife.’ He informed you. ‘You’re kidding?’ You said, he shook his head, ‘she was barely twenty.’ ‘Nineteen and he wants to know where they are.’ Percy said, you shook your head and stood up. ‘How did you know it was me?’ You quizzed, Percy chuckled and followed you up. ‘One of his men got close enough to watch, he was going to get in but you moved them before he could do anything.’ He explained, you pursed your lips. ‘And the team?’ You questioned and pointed behind you, they had fallen silent momentarily. ‘He hired me and I knew that if they were pushed hard enough they would go to a safe house.’ He said, you dropped the rolling pin onto the floor as you pushed up. ‘When is he coming?’ ‘Soon.’ ‘How soon?’ You asked, leaned his head back as he gave a tired smile. ‘You’ll find out.’ He commented, something snapped inside you before your arm swung forward and connected with his jaw, it cracked and he went backwards, the chair toppled with him. You went to climb on top of him but a large arm wrapped around your stomach and pulled you away, you fought against the person but they didn’t budge. ‘As much as we want to see you do it, now isn’t the time.’ Ghost stated as he set you down, you turned to him. You went to object but them movement on the security cameras caught your attention. You stalked away from the group and sat at the computer, you typed furiously and deleted anything that connected anyone that had came through the building. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘You need to leave.’ You told them, you stood up and pushed the chair back before you picked your computer up and dropped it to the ground, you stomped it a few times as the screen shattered. ‘Y/N who is Reagan to you?’ ‘Y/N -,’ a large bang filled the room, everyone ducked before guns were pulled out and aimed. ‘Looks like it stands up to a rocket launcher.’ You commented, you looked at the footage and noticed the large group of men that surrounded the house. ‘You guys should leave now.’ You told the four men who were bewildered by your calmness. ‘Reaper.’ ‘Reaper?’ Percy chuckled, you snapped around to him before you made eye contact with Price. ‘Take your team and leave, through the back.’ ‘What about you?’ Price asked, you titled your head to the side. ‘I’ll be fine.’ ‘I’m not leaving Captain.’ Soap said, you ignored him as you walked over and bent over Percy, his eyes widened before you freed his limbs of the ropes and pulled him up. ‘Neither am I sir.’ Gaz added, Percy tried to fight you but you grabbed his destroyed hand and twisted it behind his back so you could guide him to the area in front of the cracked door. Price looked at Ghost, eyebrow raised under the hat as Ghost tilted his head, Price sighed at the unanimous vote that everyone made. You kept Percy in front of you, your free hand moved along the wall before you found the panel. ‘Y/N.’ ‘Sorry boys.’ You apologised as you pressed the button and the heavy glass panelled door slid over, they tried to get through but it was useless.

They thumped against the glass before they stopped, you lifted your pistol of the counter it had been sat on earlier and moved, your back against the wall. Percy tensed up when you rested the gun on his shoulder, aimed at the door. Another loud bang filled the house, brightness seeped in from outside as you ducked behind Percy, muffled voices sounded before Percy’s head was flung back, his blood coating everything. Before his body dropped to the ground another shot was fired, you were flung into the wall, a bullet lodged in your chest the gun fell from your hand. The task force watched as you smiled, Reagan appeared, he turned his head to the panel and then back to you. It was a two-way panel. ‘Gaz, get this open.’ Ghost commanded, he moved to the edge were it should be connected to the panel. They watched as you and Reagan talked, your lips moving as your face remained stoic, Reagan got angrier. Suddenly he lurched forward, his wide hand wrapped around your throat as he straightened your back, leaning closer to you and whispered into your ear. He pulled back with a smile that you returned, your leg jerked out, his knee went backwards and he dropped down. You leaned down and moved to beside his ear, you silently told him something as your hand slid into his suit jacket, you pulled it out to reveal the silver gun pressed against his chest. ‘Got it.’ Gaz announced, the door slid open as you fired the gun. Reagan slouched and you waited for the waves of bullets to come your way but you were quickly pulled the to side and Soap and Ghost fired out the front door. Price guided you to the couch and lowered you into it, you yelled when he pressed down on the bullet wound. He yanked you forward to see if there was an exit wound, which there wasn’t, he leaned you back. ‘Need to get you to a hospital love.’ He said, the heel of his hand pressed against the bleed. ‘I told you to leave.’ You tired to pull away from the pressure. ‘Not gonna happen.’ Ghost said, you glared at him as he and Soap walked back over, you noticed the pile of bodies at the front door. ‘Who opened the door?’ ‘I did ma’am.’ Gaz said, you groaned at being called that before you noticed the whole in the wall, the cables pulled out and sliced. ‘Hope your gonna pay to get that fixed.’ You joked, Gaz’s lips curled and he looked away. ‘Soon as you’re better ma -,’ ‘Call me ma’am one more time, please, try it.’ You warned him, he stopped and took a step back. ‘Stop threatening my team, you should be focused on getting out of here.’ Price said, you slid your eyes to him before you sighed. ‘Press the star key and then leave.’ You gritted out. ‘What?’ ‘You can’t be linked to any of this, you can’t be in the system, they will be here within ten minutes so you’ve got to go.’ You told them, they shook their heads. ‘We aren’t -,’ ‘Leave.’ You snarled, you pulled away from Price and pressed your own hand against the wound.

You stepped through the automatic doors, the busy hospital gave way to the chaotic street, silence was hard to find here. You inhaled deeply, wincing as your shoulder pulled in the sling. Rolling your neck you turned and went to walk away but a loud whistle pulled you from your thoughts. ‘Need a ride love?’ Price called out, you looked at the group that waited around the black jeep, Ghost situated in the front passenger seat whilst Gaz and Soap leaned out the back window and waved. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ You quizzed as you walked over to them so the conversation wasn’t being shouted. ‘Thought you might need a pick-up.’ He said. ‘I can get the bus.’ You motioned to the bus stop about twenty feet away. ‘You saved us, we can give you a ride back home.’ Gaz commented from the back, you look at him. ‘I don’t have a home anymore.’ You reminded them. ‘Yeah, you do.’ ‘Pretty sure it’s in pieces.’ ‘With us, you’ve got a spot with us.’ Price said, your brows furrowed as you looked at him. ‘What?’ ‘We discussed it and talked to our bosses, and we think it’d be good for you to join us, become part of the one four one.’ Price said, you looked to the group who watched you expectantly. ‘I can’t impose.’ You held your good hand up. ‘You aren’t, we offered, you can say yes or no either way you will be seeing us.’ Price said, you raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a threat?’ ‘It’s a promise.’ Ghost spoke up, you looked at him before you sighed. ‘We don’t want to replace the team that you lost,’ you lowered your head, ‘but we want you to became part of us, you belong taking down bad guys and helping behind the lines instead of sitting in a house waiting for them to stumble onto you.’ Price said, you rolled your neck. ‘When would I start?’ ‘Now?’ Price said, ‘we’re heading back to base to write up reports and gather ourselves before we head out.’ He finished, you nodded. ‘Okay.’ ‘Soap, Gaz move over.’ Ghost told the men as they did, Price reached for the door and opened it for you.

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around1302 · 1 year

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EPILOGUE: SIX YEARS LATER

SPARE PARTS: a series

LONDON

(W) strong language, oral (male receiving)

THIRD PERSON’S POV

FOUR YEARS LATER

Cheers ring throughout the arena, thumping so loud even the floors shook. Charlie watches off stage, hands over an agape mouth as she tries to process just how proud she is – which is a pretty impossible feat. Amelia’s screams deafen her from the left, her own jumping adding to the shakes and only making her husband worry because a woman only two months from her due date definitely shouldn’t be moving like that.

(Even if she insists she knows what’s doing by the third time round).

“Oh, my God, this is going straight to his dick,” Liam laughs, whistling so loud that a few fans nearly spot them hidden behind the curtain. It was absolutely essential no one saw them – this wasn’t their night in the slightest.

“Thank you so much London!” Louis belts to the crowd one last time, trying his best to soak those emotional final few moments in before descending and joining his friends backstage.

They all scream, engulfing him in a suffocating group hug Amelia’s forced to bow out from early. Louis is clearly high on adrenaline, nearly shaking with the thrill of it all, as his former bandmates lap over each other to congratulate him.

“God, it felt so weird at first,” he pants, nodding his thanks toward the crew member who handed him a water as they all made their way to the tour buses. His tour buses, “being up there alone, but it was incredible. I just want to go out there and do it all again.”

“Good job you’ve booked a whole ass tour then,” Niall grips his shoulders, kissing the back of his sweaty head.

“Lou, you were fucking ace!” Zayn shouts over the phone Liam nearly forgot he was holding. It’s a miracle the signal and battery even held up in the 02, especially from Zayn’s hotel in Florence.

“How’s the exhibition going?” Louis responds, taking Liam’s phone to face Zayn for a minute.

The five of them climb onto the buses, each taking a minute to gasp at how different it is. Like slipping on an old cardigan, they all expected to see the red leather they were so used to and the posters they’d chosen and the always stocked mini fridge. This bus is all Louis now.

“So good,” Zayn begins to break up as the bus quickly sets off to Louis’ London apartment, “I had a buyer yesterday, meeting with him after tomorrow’s gallery opening.”

Everyone gives their congratulations, then Louis hangs up the phone before Zayn turns into nothing but a blob of pixels, handing Liam’s phone back to him.

“I’ve never seen a crowd like that,” Niall shuffles on the sofa he would never say is uncomfortable, but, well. It’s no Spare Parts tour bus. “So impressive mate.”

Amongst the pumped up conversation about Louis’ first solo show, Charlie feels her silenced phone buzzing away in her back pocket. Pulling the device out, she can’t help the small smile that makes it’s way onto her face – earning knowing groans from the others.

There’s only one person who can elicit that smile.

“Just answer it.” Louis chuckles.

“It’s just because I told him to call if there was an emergency–”

“Answer it before I do!” Amelia intercepts, throwing a cushion at Charlie. She barely catches it before it hits her face, so as she stands to take the call, she sticks her tongue out at her best friend.

And a finger.

Charlie hears a muted, “love you too!” as the door to the bunks close and she’s alone.

“Hi,” Charlie accepts the FaceTime, unable to hold back her smile as her husband comes into frame. “Everything okay?”

“Look,” he holds up a toy, specifically a 2 year old Rubik’s cube that aims to help with colour awareness. Charlie thought it was dumb, but it’s hard to argue with Harry when it comes to Reagan. “Our kid’s a genius.”

Charlie scoffs. The cube has one side completed in red, all four squares.

“Our kid’s two years old,” Charlie cocks her head, “but did she really do that?”

“Yep, we sat there for like an hour–”

“We?”

“Well her fingers aren’t the strongest.”

Charlie breathes out puffy laughter.

“Who did the cube?”

A pause. Tired eyes crinkling at the seams.

“Okay, so I physically did it, but she told me where to go!”

“Rae can say, like, five words, she did not.” Charlie loudly guffaws. Then she realises Harry’s been whispering this whole time, so she quickly clamps her mouth. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes,” Harry yawns, “took fuckin’ forever.”

“Hey! No swearing with Rae in the house.”

“She doesn’t know what they mean, Char.”

“And what happens when we send her to preschool with that in her vocabulary?”

“God, I don’t know. Do we go to jail?”

Charlie rolls her eyes, Harry cracks a lazy smile.

“How was it?”

“Oh, H, it was amazing. He was so good.”

“I’m sad to have missed it,” he yawns again, “I always knew he’d kill it solo.”

“Mm,” Charlie props her chin on her palm, “go to sleep baby.”

“Not tired.” Harry lies, his fringe tickling his lashes as he shakes his head.

“You just yawned three times in five minutes.”

“I want to stay up.” He nearly sounds like a sulking child.

“I’m not going to be back till gone midnight.”

A pause. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Charlie chuckles, “we’re nearly at Louis’ apartment and I promised I’d actually stay at this party.”

“Do you have to?”

“If ready-to-burst Amelia is, I hardly have an excuse.”

Harry softly laughs, and Charlie wants to wrap herself in that laugh. In fact, she’s wanted to go back to her husband and her daughter and their dog for hours, but she can’t hide away from yet another party.

“I’ll be back at 12:30.”

“Okay babe,” Harry yawns. Again. “Have fun. Give Louis my congratulations.”

“I will,” Charlie let’s her eyes drop over Harry for a minute. After three years of marriage, the sight of him in sweats and blankets and messy curls is no less sexy than when he’s in his silk shirts and his–

“You’re pulling that face.” Harry snaps her out of it.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” Harry shifts, Daisy’s fur visible in the corner of the screen as she clearly hogs her side of the bed, “you sure you don’t want to come back early?”

The door to the bunks open and Liam’s head peaks through, “Charlie, we’re here.”

“Okay, I’ll be one minute.” Charlie smiles, standing up.

“You alright, Harry?” Liam shouts.

“I’ll be one minute,” grits lilts, shooing Liam out with a smirk.

“I really need to go now,” Charlie’s attention reverts back to the screen, to Harry. “I love you. Stay up.”

“Always,” Harry has to have won some kind of world record for yawning at this point, “I love you.”

2 YEARS LATER

Thousands upon thousands await him, chanting and cheering for him as the final recognisable song from his (carefully curated) pre-show playlist slowly fades to a halt.

He should be jumping up and down on the spot, breathing short, sharp breaths and recounting the lyrics he always forgets (and probably will always forget). He should be hyping himself up to play his first ever stadium alone, he should be warming up or fuck, praying.

But no. He’s nowhere to be found.

He’s late.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” his manger, Jeff, paces over Ibrox’s backstage, about ready to quit, steam leaking from his ears - cartoon or not, his top client is always the one to make that happen.

Jeff could accept late six years ago. It was nerve wracking, opening a tour alone after a controversial departure from the band. Plus, he was well aware of his reputation, Jeff knew what he was signing on for.

But the man’s twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. The man’s not some stupid early twenty-something who sees this whole thing as a fun little quest he gets to dictate. Over the years, and especially through the pandemic, he finally matured. He finally realised that being punctual is actually okay! And more than that, it doesn’t give your manager and crew kittens three minutes before Golden is supposed to blast to 50,000.

… except when it comes to pre-show blowjobs from his wife.

“Oh, my God, baby.”

Harry throws his head back, fingers taking turns in fisting the cushy sofa beneath him and raking through Charlie’s curls. Her tongue swirls his tip, her own insistence for punctuality urging her to make him finish as soon as possible. She looks up at him through long lashes, knowing eye contact while she mouths him like that will have him tipping over the edge in no time.

It was never even supposed to happen. She only went in his dressing room to wish him luck, see how he was doing, give him a chaste kiss if anything. And, if she was a little honest with herself, she wanted to see his outfit before the world did.

Catching him half-dressed with the hair that told her he’d been nervously messing with it for half an hour, well. Who wouldn’t drop to their knees and kiss their way to his cock in their mouth?

“Yeah, shit,” Harry pants, forcing his head to roll forward so he can watch her. “How do you just seem to get better at this?”

Charlie smiles around his prick, injecting butterflies into his stomach and–

“Harry, I’m going to ask one more time.”

“One minute!” Charlie surfaces, barely able to breathe as she shouts at Jeff this time. Jeff’s grumbles are audible from the other side of the door, as are the sound of feet shuffling away.

If there’s one person Jeff isn’t going to yell at, it’s Charlie.

Harry’s eyes widen, embarrassment heating his neck, but Charlie’s hand pumping his shaft silences him till he’s biting blood into his bottom lip and announcing,

“Baby, I’m gonna–” he doesn’t have to finish his sentence before her mouth is back on him, and he’s coming down the back of her wonderful throat.

The noises he makes as he finishes only spur her to suck him through his orgasm, all the way till he’s pulling her away and twitching with sensitivity.

“Okay, you need to go.”

Charlie stands, wiping her mouth and shanking his boxers and trousers up for him while he lays back, dazed the fuck out of his mind.

“Huh?” He barely understands a word she’s saying, let alone able to comprehend where he is and what he’s about to do.

“You have a show, H,” Charlie straddles his lap to fix his hair, styling it quickly in the way she knows he likes. Harry’s hands instinctively fly to her waist, grinning lazily as she fusses over his fucked-out appearance.

“That might’ve been your best work, sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Charlie mumbles behind a smile. He pecks her swollen lips.

Standing up, she adjusts herself, too. Her hair that had been ragged at by a feral Harry, her lipstick that was practically cheekstick by now. Her top, that he’d messily yanked down during their initial make out session when he insisted he just had to bite at least one mark into her breasts.

“Okay, you have two minutes,” Charlie checks her phone, grabbing his white tank and jacket from his coat-rack. Coming round from the head, panic starts to set in.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, standing up. Charlie turns around, noticing that gone-off look in his eyes which tells her he’s either about to brush it off completely or melt into a panic attack. Neither are exactly great coping mechanisms, but Charlie really needs to prevent the latter right now.

“H, it’s nothing.”

She throws him the tank, waiting for him with the jacket. He glances at her, that postcoital glow long gone. Anxiety was starting to seep into those gaps she had managed to close just a few minutes ago, but were starting to crack at the seams.

“50,000 is not nothing.”

Charlie puts his jacket on for him, afraid he’d stand there forever if she didn’t.

“50,817.” She corrects. He scowls. “Sorry.”

“Look, of course it’s not nothing. It’s a huge deal. But I know you,” she grabs his face, forcing his eyes to still on something solid. A stray curl falls against his forehead, framing his furrowed brows. “You’re going to get on that stage, and you’re going to fucking kill it.”

Harry huffs a breath, unconvinced.

“Honey, you’ve done it before.” Charlie smiles softly, brushing away the strand.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “with you.” He nudges his nose against hers, and Charlie wants to cry at his vulnverability. It’s rare she sees a Harry like this. For as long as she’s known him, he’s remained stoic in the face of fear, and although he’s not as rigid as he used to be – he’s never one to panic so much.

Endearingly, Charlie can pinpoint when he became much more of a worrier to one day, one person.

“H,” Charlie firms up, “it’s just like that. You have your band, you have me and your friends and–”

Harry interrupts the beginning of Charlie’s pep talk by grabbing her face and kissing her, hard. As if he was pouring out all of his nerves into her mouth and something in her lips and her tongue managed to just kill them. He pulls away, pepping light kisses against her cheek and jaw, making Charlie chuckle softly as his hair tickles her face.

“Okay, okay,” she leans back, forcing him away from her skin, “round two after the show, yeah?”

Harry holds his pinkie out. Charlie rolls her eyes, and holds her pinkie out. They kiss their respective thumbs and Harry nods.

“You got this.” She scrunches her nose, and Harry swears he feels his heart drop out of his stomach, which, how? After all this time, how does she still manage to do that to him.

It needs to be studied.

As he leaves his dressing room, Charlie gives him a swift slap to the ass, laughing as he turns and playfully scowls (despite knowing full well he loves it). She says a silent prayer for her husband as she follows him toward the stage, the sound of thousands of impatient fans already deafening.

They round the corner to backstage, where the team and Jeff are minutes away from breaking down themselves. Jeff nearly drops to the floor in relief at the sight of Harry, but wastes no time in calling tech over to mic him up.

Charlie gratefully smiles at Sarah, taking a fussing Reagan from her arms. Harry turns to let the team thread his mic through his jacket, and finds his remaining anxiety instantly dissipating at the sight of his daughter wearing entirely too big headphones and fisting at Charlie’s t-shirt as she complains about said defenders.

“Hi, princess,” Harry coos, reaching out for Reagan to grab his finger with her little hand.

“Daddy, you look funny.” Reagan giggles, wiggling enough for Charlie to set her down.

“Heey,” Harry lilts, getting the go ahead from the tech man before bending to his four-year-old’s height. “You don’t think I look handsome?”

Reagan shakes her head, brown curls bouncing against her cheeks.

“You look like play-dough.”

Charlie snorts, because she kinda hit the nail on the head. Harry’s band are giggling, too, as they prepare to get on stage. Harry narrows his eyes at them all.

“Do I have to wear these?” Reagan bashes her fists against the headphones.

“Afraid so, Rae,” Harry adjusts them so they sit a little looser on her head, but she’s still unhappy. “Your ears are too little right now,” he tries to explain, but if he knows his daughter at all, he knows she’ll be upset throughout the whole show because her hairdo’s squashed.

That’s Auntie Amelia’s damning influence.

“I don’t want to interrupt, but–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry stands, not deaf to the chants for him outside.

He kisses Reagan’s head, then turns to his wife.

“How’s Daisy?”

“Daisy’s fine,” Charlie sighs around a smile. Of course Harry’s worried about their dog right now. “Lia and Niall texted, she’s passed out on the sofa.”

Harry nods, clearly trying to delay the inevitable. So Charlie hurries it along for him, knowing he could stand there and ask stupid questions all evening to avoid that initial opening.

“Don’t fuck it up.” She winks, pinching his chin. Harry breathes short laughter from his nose, his lips squashed as Charlie pulls him for one final good luck kiss. Reagan sticks her tongue out at the sight of her parents’ affection, to which Harry does the same back and earns a tinkling of giggles back.

Charlie lifts Raegen so she can blow a kiss to her dad, currently jumping up and down and getting a few final stretches in before the opening to Music For A Sushi Restaurant fills the stadium, the screams become deafening, and Charlie watches as her rockstar husband takes the same stage her rockstar self did last year.

@lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles

#spare parts series #harry styles series #one direction series #harry styles x oc #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #1d series #1d smut #1d ot5 #harry styles friends with benefits #harry smut #harry styles x reader #one direction

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siryouarebeingmocked · 5 days

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So there's this web novel called Worm.

[art source]

It's about a dark and edgy world that's full of superpowered folks, and which is, therefore, about three steps away from dystopian collapse. Many places are already there.

The story is about a teenage bullying victim who gains powers, and uses them to become a very dangerous supervillain, despite her best efforts.

And anyone familiar with the RWBY fandom may have just gone "wait, this sounds familiar. Are there a lot of fics where a main character gets an alternate power set?"

Yes, yes there are.

In this fanfic I'm about to complain about, Taylor gets an already existing power that's already broken.

Canon has "Path to Victory", which is almost literally just an "I WIN" button. It tells "Contessa" what she needs to do to succeed at almost any goal she wants. She's a big blindspot for people who can see the future.

Some powerful entities can't be accurately predicted, she can't predict how people will "trigger" and get their powers, and she's terrible in space.

Taylor has the darker, edgier little brother. Which is just an "I WIN" button, with no “almost”. It means she gets to do whatever she wants, and she’s a borderline sociopath.

Someone tries to mind-whammy taylor? Nope, doesn't work.

Contessa tries to use PTV.on Taylor? Doesn't work.

Look, this is obviously, transparently a stompfic. And there two ways to go with that.

ROFLSTOMP, or take it seriously.

Make it a humour fic, or focus on how the protagonist seems strange to those around them, and how they see everyone else as strange in return. Also how the protagonists actions affect various people and the system.

If you want challenge just give them mutually contradictory goals. The power can't do x without risking or losing y and certainly can't take care of z at the same time.

I read a Harry potter story which gave Snape the path to victory and the last published chapter was snape sitting in a bar trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Looking back, that was probably meant to represent the author.

You can tell a good dramatic story with an OP protagonist. You just have to work harder.

This story mostly worked hard on setting up literally contrived situations so Taylor can kill someone in amusing fashion. And people's amusing reactions. That's the main selling point.

And of course the author and Taylor say that she has no more moral issues with killing. Because ROFLSTOMP.

In fact, one of the first things she does is literally stomp Sophia to death.

Taylor will still go after hard drug dealers because they hurt people, but she'll leave soft drug dealers alone. And of course she hates the local Nazi gang.

In short, she's a very selective sociopath.

So the story tries to mix both types, including with Sociopolitical Commentary™. It doesn't work very well.

At one point Taylor cracks a joke about tech Bros.

Fun fact: Worm takes place in an alternate universe where there is a very slim chance that they would develop that particular slang. A universe that is culturally very different from our own. In fact, I'm pretty sure the original webnovel ended before "tech bro" was even really a phrase.

And when Taylor kills the local Injustice League, she gets the bounty, and decides to donate it to the city. Specifically, she announces, the general public.

And in case anyone was wondering why it can’t be given to businesses directly, she says trickle down economics doesn't work.

Let's ignore whether that's true or not. Trickle down economics usually refers to tax cuts. Not handouts and bailouts. Also the phrase was popularized mainly with Ronald Reagan's tax cuts.

Note that superheroes and villains started appearing on record in 1984. Reagan's first tax cuts were in 1981. His second were in 86. By 1985 in the worm universe, the breakfast club came out with Nic cage as bender. Superheroes didn't go public until 1987.

So it's possible that the phrase could still exist in the worm universe.

But it does seem strange that a teenager with little interest in politics happens to use it. In fact it seems a lot more like something an adult writer from our universe would use.*

And besides all that, it's just getting one note. No char development. Even the people reacting to Taylor do it the same way.

I mean I knew this was going to be self indulgent Mary Sue nonsense from the jump, so I really have nobody to blame but myself.

*To be fair, precedent does exist in canon. There's a character called Nice Guy. He can make himself appear to be a non threat, or even socially invisible, even when people are actively trying to find him or he's slitting a throat. Which sounds a lot like the 2000s internet feminist stereotype of a nice guy. Ironically, the character concept was originally for a girl.

#fandom #worm #personal #fanfiction #long #writing

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reagan-the-saunders · 5 months

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| Cleric, Wizard, Warlock, Rogue.

More classes gifs

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hurlingsupport · 1 year

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could you do a reagan ridley with a reader who’s kinda childish? like they collect stuffed animals but get super insecure about it? if not it’s okay! thank u!

Yeah I can, and thank you for the request! Not sure if you wanted headcanons or a scenario though, so I went ahead and did a short one-shot since it's what I'm most familiar with

"Movie Night" (Reagan Ridley x Childish! Gender Neutral Reader One-shot)

(Slight warning for cussing)

Today was movie night with Reagan, a night full of nothing but sci-fi and popcorn. And today was a bit abnormal compared to other nights. See, usually you and Reagan would have movie night in your living room, where the TV was bigger and there was just more stretching room overall.

However, you were rather exhausted from this week; maintaining the government isn't exactly refreshing. So you really didn't have the energy to set everything up in your living room, and your room was quite cozy if you say so yourself, so the room it was.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, seeing that you trusted Reagan and there wasn't anything particularly wrong with your room. It's just that you had a collection of items that you considered pretty embarrassing for an adult in their thirties to have. Which happened to be collecting plush animals of all kinds, but a few were from your childhood, meaning that they were rather valuable in your heart.

You knew how Reagan was; she wouldn't outright bully you, but she would think it was weird. She was cool, mature most of the time, and a literal genius! You shivered in fright, imagining her judgmental face staring at you of all people.

Luckily, you had the perfect solution, which was to just stuff your collection under your bed. You even cleaned it out so that they wouldn't get dusty or anything. Then, as you pulled your blanket down to better hide your plushies, you heard the doorbell to your apartment ring.

Quickly double checking to make sure everything was in place, you ran to the door. And there she was, in her plain black hoodie with green, ripped jeans.

"Were you running?" She asked with a smile, hands in her pockets. You laughed at her question.

"No."

As soon as she stepped through the doorway, you closed the door and led her to the kitchen.

"You got here kind of early, so the popcorn's still in the microwave. Go ahead and take a drink out of the fridge." She opened your fridge and immediately made a face.

"Capri Suns? Do those actually still exist?" She grabbed one and started to inspect it.

"Uh, yeah? How long has it been since you had one?" She ignored your question and instead put the one she was holding back and grabbed a different one.

"Wait, you like Lemon Lime Rush?" Reagan paused as she poked the straw through the hole.

"You don't?"

Before you could tell her that she could have your whole supply, the microwave began to beep, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Whatever, go pick a movie, and it better not be The Matrix again!" Regan let out a long, exaggerated groan at your words. You could faintly hear her whining about how it got better each time.

You sighed as you opened the popcorn, pouring a bit of salt into it so that it wasn't completely plain. However your eyebrows raised as you heard a rather loud thump come from your room.

"You okay?" You yelled, waiting for a reply. And when you heard a scream come from your room, both the salt and the popcorn went flying out of your hands.

"WHAT-WHAT!? WHAT HAPPENED??" Sliding into your room's doorway, you realized that she wasn't screaming about an alien, a mole-man, or even her dad somehow sneaking in with only his underwear on; instead, she sat on your carpeted floor, holding one of your most prized possessions: your favorite beanie baby from your childhood, Tooter the Dinosaur.

Reagan looked up at you, her eyes wide with disbelief, as she gripped the brown and yellow Parasaurolophus.

It was silent for a few seconds, and when a full minute passed, Reagan finally decided to speak up.

"You've got Tooter the Dinosaur?" It only took those words to leave her mouth for tears to begin rapidly streaming down your face, mouth pursed so that you didn't make this situation any more awkward. Immediately, Reagan stood up, beanie baby still in hand, as she grabbed your shoulder in surprise.

"Woah, woah! What's wrong?" She watched as you struggled to get the words out, your sniffling increasing with each breath you took.

"You-- *sniff*, you weren't supposed to—hmph!" You shut your mouth once you felt an oncoming sob trying to escape.

Reagan stayed silent as she stared at you in concern before placing the dinosaur plushie in your hands and watching as you gripped its soft body for comfort.

"I wasn't supposed to—what? Did you not want me to see the plushie?" She tried laughing, grimacing as you kept crying despite her attempt at a joke. She then sat you down on your bed, sitting next to you with her hands in her lap.

"Sorry, I wasn't snooping or anything. As soon as I walked in, I slipped on Tooter and fell." She let a small chuckle escape her lips.

"... Is that what that thump was?" You didn't look at her, holding the plushie close to your body.

"Ah, yeah. Haha." She grimaced and continued, "Um, look—I can go if you don't want to do movie night anymore-" you instantly cut her off.

"What!? No, no! *sniff* You're fine, Reagan!" You sighed, feeling that you messed up the whole night because of your childish ways. "You didn't do anything; I'm just weird." She made a confused face, and before she could ask any questions, you began to explain.

"Look, um, I kind of collect these plushies, not just beanie babies. Any kind of plushie, really." You paused, rubbing at the dinosaur's soft fur.

"It's just embarrassing, I guess. I'm in my thirties and I'm still acting like this." You let out a sad laugh and jumped back when Reagan exclaimed.

"What? Dude, I've seen way weirder; we both have!" Her brows were furrowed, and her hands waved in the air as if to support her claim.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's just that you're so... mature? I don't know, I thought you'd be weirded out or something." With this, Reagan gasped, staring at you with a hurt expression.

"No way! I mean, I'm just as weird, if not weirder than you! Have you met my family?" Your face scrunched at the image that appeared in your head. "Or seen my eyebags?" She pulled the skin under her eyes down, and you had to admit that you'd never seen someone with such a dark shade of purple underneath their eyes.

"So you're not weirded out?" She put a hand on your shoulder again, this time with a smile on her face.

"Of course not; in fact-" She gave you a mischievous look before grabbing the dinosaur out of your hands. "-I've been looking for a dinosaur beanie baby. They came out in 2002, y'know?"

"What? No, that's mine!" You laughed, tackling her as you tried to pry the precious plush from her hands. And when you finally succeeded, you were met with the reward of being pushed off your bed. You huffed in frustration when you heard Reagan let out a guttural laugh, while you tried to ignore her ego boosting through the roof.

It was then that you noticed all of your hidden plushies underneath your bed, just barely covered by the now messy blanket.

"I do have another dinosaur beanie baby, if you're interested?" Reagan snorted, hopping off your sheet-ridden lair and watching as you reached under your bed for the plushie you were looking for.

"God, you sound like a drug dealer—or maybe just Andre." She crossed her arms, bending a bit to get a better look at what you were trying to grab.

"Yeah, okay, Ms. Genius." Once you had finally gotten the beanie baby out of your kingdom of stuffed toys, you reached up and shoved it into Reagan's face.

"Ow—oh what? Is this Toothy Toothy!?" You giggled at her amazed face, getting off the ground so that you were at the same level as her.

"Yeah, now if you'll excuse me, I have popcorn to make." You stood by your bedroom doorway, waiting for Reagan to follow, and when she didn't, you called out to her instead.

"And I'll need someone to clean up the popcorn they made me spill!" She turned her head slightly towards you, eyes still focused on the plushie you had given her.

"I really don't think it's me you're talking about." You sighed, carefully grabbing ahold of her wrist and dragging her out of the room.

"So am I not picking the movie?" She asked, and you laughed.

"Fuck no."

#inside job #inside job x reader #reagan ridley #reagan ridley x reader #andre lee #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #one shot

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unknowntoyou2205 · 1 year

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Scared for my life (Halstead x sister) Jay had always been upfront to his sister about what he did when she became the age to understand the risks it took. But he never dreamed that one of his previous encounters would take his sister, the one person more important to him than his life.

Never threaten the Shelby sister Tommy Shelby never believed y/n when she said a guy had threatened her life for something her brother did, but he soon realizes the truth when it becomes too late.

Fear turns to confession (Jay Halstead x reader) Jay Halsteads friend in the army comes home, but feelings arise when she joins intellagence. Requested by @maybankangel

Phone call of terror (Will Halstead x reader) While Will finishes work for the day, y/n calls him to organise plans for dinner, but during that call a bang is heard and caous soon follows. Requested by @megafandomsxassemble

Train of fear (Gideon x daughter reader) Gideon had raised his daughter on his own since her mother left them, and from that she became one of the best FBI officers out there. But sometimes with the FBI comes risk, and while taking the train to work with Elle, things take an unexpected turn.

Birthday cake (Hotch x daughter reader) – song dylan conrique It’s her moms first birthday since her death, and y/n can’t help but feel sad as she remembers the fond memories together.

Better than he ever could (Sky x reader) Y/n reveals to Sky that she is pregnant, and Sky swears he'll be a better Father than his own was. Requested by @cruesfavgirl

Tags: @dark-academia-slut @lyria-skyfall @mxacegrey @sassyqueen15 @loverofthings2425

Social media: Birthday girl (Marvel cast x platonic reader) Y/n has been a part of the marvel cast since she was 4, and the cast can’t help but shower her with love and affection as she turns 15.

Set fire to the rain (Severide x Hermann daughter) Y/n and Severide have been married for 4 years, now trying for a baby they struggle, and fear they may never have their own child

Secrets can't always be kept to yourself (BAU x teen reader) 17 year old joins the FBI on an internship, and is holding a secret. But working with the BAU crew means nothing stays secret for long, but will they find out before it becomes too late.

Also continuing: I just want my dad (Silva x daughter)

In which the inevitable becomes reality (Reagan family x daughter)

#Fate the winx saga #One chicago #Chicago fire #Chicage pd #Chicago med #Halstead brothers #Marvel cast #Blue bloods #criminal minds #peaky blinders #shelby sister #kelly severide x wife #sky x reader #silva x daughter #will halstead x reader #jay halstead x reader #hotch x daughter #Gideon x daughter

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livgr3 · 2 months

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Fairy Tale Musicals: Little Shop of Horrors (1981) dir. Frank Oz

Little Shop of Horrors has a somewhat lengthy history of multiple adaptations. The first iteration of the story was the 1960 film The Little Shop of Horrors, with a screenplay inspired by science fiction stories of the 1950s. Then, the movie was adapted into an off-Broadway musical in 1982. In 1986, the popular musical was adapted into the high camp, soon to be cult-classic movie musical Little Shop of Horrors, directed by Frank Oz, whose experience in creating and puppeteering The Muppets would lend itself to Little Shop's impressive Audrey II puppets.

Three teen girls who live on Skid Row, Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon, introduce and narrate the events of the film.

Seymour and Audrey are both struggling to make ends meet, and work at Mr. Mushnik's failing flower shop on Skid Row. Seymour, who has a hobby of collecting exotic plants, brings a mysterious plant to the shop, Audrey II, which draws in customers and gives the shop a fighting chance at staying in business. As the plant begins to make Seymour more popular and successful, he discovers that the only thing that he can feed the plant to make it grow is human blood. (Also it can talk and sing.) Meanwhile, Audrey's abusively masochistic dentist boyfriend Orin becomes more and more insidious towards her, making him into the perfect candidate for Audrey II's first victim...

Aesthetic Markers of Class, Race, and "Bootstraps" Myths Through Song

Though Oz's film is still set in the 1960s when its source film was made and generally parodies conventions of '60s B-movies, it is clearly influenced by the politics of the 1980s, when it was made. I will read Oz's Little Shop alongside two specific events: The Reagan Administration and the Second-wave Feminist movement.

Let's close read the musical number "Skid Row" to see how formal and stylistic elements enhance racial difference and enforce the "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps" rhetoric that became popular during the Reagan era as a way to justify and distract from the growing economic disparities in America.

youtube

Though the three narrators provide a segue into the song by exclaiming that there is no chance of "bettering ourselves" on Skid Row, Audrey and Seymour end the song determined to get out of their situations. They are notably the only two people in this ensemble number to sing about getting out of Skid Row, looking up towards the sky as the song ends while the rest of the cast looks down. Several other stylistic markers set Audrey and Seymour apart throughout the song, such as the bright lighting on only them, their brighter clothes/hair in comparison to everyone else's dull attire, and even the slower tempo and more gentle style of singing during their verses.

While Seymour and Audrey's economic status makes them "Othered" protagonists (much like Eliza Dolittle in Ray's analysis of My Fair Lady), the formal elements of this number serve to further Otherize people of color. It is important to consider Seymour and Audrey's whiteness in comparison to the ensemble, which consists of many Black performers. With these two white characters as the only ones to sing about wanting to get out of Skid Row while the others do not, the film contributes racist capitalist narratives that one's economic status is a "choice." This is further supported by the fact that the rest of the ensemble of this number rarely shows up throughout the rest of the film. Their only purpose is to foil the protagonists' strife, making the audience feel as though they are rooting for the "little guy" or the "Other" at the expense of another, racialized Other.

However, the narrative that continues after this song seems to subvert and rework this very same myth of finding economic success through the exploitation of The Other.

After finding out that Audrey II feeds on human flesh and blood, the meek and good-natured Seymour struggles to see anyone as "deserving" of death. That is, until Audrey II directs him towards Audrey's abusive boyfriend Orin. Fast forward a bit, and Seymour later feeds his boss, Mr. Mushnik, to Audrey II. The death of both these characters promote Audrey II's growth, which increases the attention it gets from the media and therefore brings Seymour more wealth.

Since the film dips into conventions of Sci-Fi and monster movies, it is expected that those who are killed for financial gain are bodies which have been marked as disposable or lesser. However, the victims in this film, a horribly misogynistic man with a good career and a boss who disregards the well-being of his workers, could easily be construed as heroes in other films. In this film, Seymour and Audrey II flip the narrative of violent exploitation, fighting against oppressive figures in order to succeed in the very capitalist system which they help promote.

Complicating Femininity Through Race and Class

Ray writes of My Fair Lady as indicating what it means to properly "be" a woman through a rags to riches transformation. Little Shop sets up the perfect foundation for such a transformation to occur to Audrey, who defies any notions of demure, proper womanhood with her "trashy" style and nasally voice. This physical transformation never happens, though, and Audrey's femininity or womanhood are never in question.

Instead, Audrey undergoes an internal transformation through the film's exploration of domestic abuse, which seems to be informed by a heightened awareness of the issue thanks to the advancements of the Second Wave Feminist movement. I find that the film handles this issue surprisingly well, with Audrey experiencing symptoms of abuse in a way that is very realistic, and she is never treated as a source of blame for the abuse Orin subjects her to. When Orin's death frees her of her circumstances, she regains a sense of autonomy and self-confidence.

Audrey's "I want" song, "Somewhere That's Green," also handles contentious aspects of womanhood in a way which considers economic class. In this song, Audrey sings that her biggest dream in life is to live in a comfortable suburban home married to Seymour. While the Second Wave Feminist movement fought against the designation of women as housewives, such a lifestyle would be a privilege to Audrey in her current economic state.

However, the film's three narrators are not given the same complex characterization. Ray writes of the "transgressive inner voice" of female musical protagonists as something progressive and empowering. The three narrators in Little Shop are basically only their voices (and they out-sing everyone else in the cast tbh), existing as an omnipotent presence that is only partially connected to the world of the film. Though the film definitely showcases their vocal talent and charm, they are reduced to an accessory with the sole purpose of narrating white stories.

Two Endings

The film's original ending followed the ending of the stage musical. In this version, Audrey II kills both Audrey and Seymour. Businessmen take cuttings of Audrey II and sell it across the country, accidentally creating an army of Audrey IIs that take over the US.

After two test screenings which left audiences uncomfortable and speechless, Oz filmed a new ending before the wider release of the film. In this new conclusion, Audrey and Seymour survive, kill Audrey II and live happily ever after.

Discussion Questions!

Does camp and the tone of movie musicals make it easier to include anti-capitalist themes and narrative points? Might the film have been made and widely released if the same themes were conveyed in a more "serious" manner?

What is the significance of Audrey II being a plant, as opposed to another kind of being? Could there be an environmentalist reading of the film?

Why do you think the darker ending was successful in the stage musical, but made audiences of the film adaptation uncomfortable? Do stage plays and films evoke different expectations?

What do you make of the second ending and the role of happy endings more generally - can they evoke a sense of hope, or are they an unrealistic distraction from real issues?

#oxyfilmmusical #@uncannyprofessoro #panelpresentation

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brokehorrorfan · 2 months

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Mondo will release The Exorcist by Zero and The Changeling by David Seidman tomorrow, February 29, at 1pm EST. They're expected to ship in May.

The Exorcist is a 24x36 screen print with a hidden spot gloss layer, limited to 185, for $80. The Changeling is a 24x36 screen print, limited to 140, for $80.

Read on for statements from both artists.

Zero on The Exorcist:

In creating the poster for The Exorcist, my main inspiration came from the wings of the demon Pazuzu. I was particularly drawn to how these wings, along with other details of the demon, subtly weave through the movie, evident in hidden details even before the plot starts, such as Reagan's crafts with winged animals (sculptures and drawings). I aimed to do something similar in my own piece by incorporating these hidden details or Easter eggs in the poster, along with other interesting elements found in the film.

Seidman on The Changeling:

As an artist whose work is heavily influenced by haunted imagery, The Changeling is a movie that delivers so much through it’s storytelling, atmosphere and visuals. The abandoned antique wheelchair and possessed red ball have become so influential in the horror genre and icons on their own. Using these objects prominently helped me set the scene to perfectly capture the tone and atmosphere of one of my favorite haunted house movies.

#the changeling #the exorcist #linda blair #william friedkin #horror #regan macneil #george c. scott #george c scott #mondo #william peter blatty #art #gift #peter medak #zero #david seidman

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riddleymethis · 1 year

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Reagan brainworms for tonight

☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆

REAGAN COMFORTING READER HCS

Cw/info: G/N reader!

Characters: Reagan Ridley

☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆°•°☆

- tbh she's kind of awkward about it at first

- she just generally has a hard time settling into emotional situations

- but once she does and feels more comfortable, she is extremely good at saying the right things

- she's so honestly blunt and says things so matter of factly that it's genuinely comforting to hear, no matter hie bad your day was

- she's more than willing to lend an ear to hear your problems

- and if you don't wanna talk about your issues, that's alright too!

- when it comes to comfort outside of talking, she's definitely an acts of service/quality time kind of person

- she'll ask if there's anything you want to do to help, but also knowing the way she can read people... she probably already knows your interests/hobbies/etc. and has already started setting out everything you'd need for comfort

- a good default is always movies too

- make/get a comfort snack for the both of you and sit down with you to watch something to keep your mind off of things

- 100% would share a blanket with you. She's very iffy on being close physically in general, but she enjoys it more with people she trusts so she's willing to be close to you

- makes fun of the movie on purpose to get you to laugh

- just a very awkward but very caring and sweet person !!♡

#reagan ridley x reader #inside job x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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jungle-angel · 2 years

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Like Father, Like Son

Summary: Joe Floyd is one cruel son of a bitch. Later Bob turns out to be his dad’s equal

Notes: Based off of an interview with out dear friend, Glen Powell about a very gross but very funny incident that occurred during flight training

Miramar, CA

September, 1992

5:30am

Joe was still sleeping deeply at this early hour, his face almost buried into Irene’s neck and his arm coiled protectively around her shoulders. The other kids would have to get up for school in an hour, leaving him to leave at the same time they did.......8am on the dot.

Irene groaned in her sleep, annoyed at the set of tiny feet kicking her all over and the movement that was becoming more frequent these days and one that she knew a little too well. “Baby?”

“What?” Joe murmured.

“Little man’s awake already.”

Joe yawned, his hand gently rubbing her shoulders before moving down to her more noticeable bump. “You be nice to your mother,” he said. “Or else I’m gonna have to come in there and fight you.”

He felt the flat of a tiny foot shoot to the palm of his hand before it disappeared and settled. “You see what he did there?” he asked her with an annoyed look on his face.

“Oh no,” Irene chuckled sarcastically. “Your little mini Muhammad Ali’s been quiet all morning.”

Joe rolled his eyes and figured it was time to get up. “Want me to get the rest of the prison inmates up?”

“Go ahead,” Irene laughed.

Joe kissed her cheek before pressing a firm one to her lips. God she was gorgeous.....even after the kids and still as happy-go-lucky as the day he and Irene had their first date at a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert all those years ago. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you too,” she said, smiling widely as her hand grazed his shadow-lined chin.

He kissed her once more before he shifted and kissed her bump. “I love you too little man,” he whispered. “You’d better behave for your mother while I’m gone or else you’re gonna hear about it when I get home.”

Joe went about the usual routine of catching a shower before he jumped into his flight suit and boots, grabbing the keys, helmet and backpack he took with him every day to work. Now came the hard part......getting the seven other miscreants in the house up for school.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!!” Joe ordered loudly, knocking on the bedroom doors. “Everybody up! First day of school! Let’s get going! C’mon! Reagan, Eugene and Michael, get up! Sean, you too, I don’t want any complaints.”

The four eldest stuck their heads out of their doors as Joe continued down the halls. “Liam, let’s get moving!” Joe ordered. “Chloe and Aly, you two little troublemakers better be up in five minutes and I mean five minutes!”

Each of the kids gladly complied, not wanting to incur the wrath of their father who had early mornings down to military precision. Reagan, the oldest of the Floyd wolf pack, was old enough to help get breakfast ready for the younger ones. She climbed onto her little stepstool in the kitchen, turned on the radio and helped as best she could, while Joe made sure the kids had everything in their bags.

The kids ate quicker than usual and cleaned up when they were done before rushing back to their rooms to get their new school clothes. Not too bad. The only bump in the road being Liam with his sloppily tied shoes. No matter, the kid was still learning.

Outside they went to wait for the bus to take them to the school on base. Thank God it was one of those hippie schools that let the kids play outside as much as they could. Joe and Irene loathed the thought of the kids being stuck inside all day.

As soon as they had been picked up, Joe jumped in the truck and switched on the radio, unrolling the windows so that every annoying neighbor along the way would have to listen to AC/DC’s “It’s a long way to the top” blaring from the speakers as he drove by.

“It’s gonna be a good day,” he told himself, repeating it like a mantra, over and over again.

Naval Air Station, Miramar

8:50 am

Joe strode onto the tarmac with his flight helmet in hand and aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Today was definitely going to be eventful, seeing as Maverick and Ice were the first two to greet him.

“Looks like we’ve got some new recruits,” Joe remarked.

“New is a bit of an understatement, Rabbit,” Ice chuckled, dropping in Joe’s callsign. “These guys are as green as you can possibly get and I have a feeling we’ll have our work cut out for us.”

“Who’s on roster?”

“You, me, Mav, Slider, Wolf and Hollywood,” Ice told him.

Into the hangar they went to meet the new recruits. Ice wasn’t kidding, these kids were as green and fresh-faced as you could get. But there was one amongst the crowd that Joe had taken an instant disliking to, a kid that had an arrogant look in his dark eyes that just screamed “privileged brat straight from the Ivy League schools.”

“Now it’s important to remember that when you’re up there,” Joe explained. “Your weapons systems and everything needs to be working to a T. One little thing is off and you’re fucked up the ass and out the ears.”

“Sir, I hate to be one to interrupt,” Mr. Ivy League interjected. “But you’re telling us things that we already know.”

This kid was really starting to make Joe’s blood boil. Every two seconds it was an interjection about how his superiors were wrong and he was right. Even Maverick and Ice’s eyes were rolling. Slider and Wolfman whispered something indiscernible to each other as Joe tried to carry on, but found it a little more difficult.

I swear to God, I’m gonna get this kid and I’m gonna get him real good......Joe fumed.

********************

Out to the tarmac they went, everyone loading into their respective planes with a new recruit. Joe was a little less than pleased to find that he had been partnered with Ivy League, his skin crawling at his smug face and the way he bragged.

“Fair word of warning,” Joe told him as they climbed in. “You start feeling like you’re gonna puke, there’s bags in the backseat pocket.”

“I’ve never puked sir,” Ivy League replied. “And I’m proud of the fact that I never have.”

Joe rolled his eyes and climbed in, securing the straps on his flight helmet. He already had the kid’s weakest point figured out......and it was certainly going to get very interesting.

The planes taxied onto the runway and took off into the sky, speeding towards the training grounds where the team would begin to show the new recruits how things were done amongst the old salts.

Things had gone smoothly for the most part, no mechanical issues or any others for that matter. Yet Joe soon began to notice the pale, ashen look that was beginning to appear in Ivy League’s face, a look that he just couldn’t get out of his mind as his brilliant, germ of an idea began to grow and spread.

“You doin ok back there?” he asked.

“Doing just fine sir, everything’s under control,” Ivy League replied.

“Ok, if you say so,” Joe said. No one could see it, but an evil little grin had begun to form under his mask.

Joe watched him carefully like a cat eyeing its prey in the bushes. The kid was beginning to look greener and greener around the gills with every second that passed. Alright kid.......he thought......time for your ego check......

“Alright,” Joe announced. “We’re gonna practice with some light barrel rolls just to get you used to the sensation.”

“Ok,” Ivy League replied, his voice a little weary. “Ok, gimme one second.”

Joe heard him reaching for the bag and the kid retching his brains out a second later. Now was his chance.

In the blink of an eye, Joe turned the plane into a double barrel roll which startled Ivy League nearly shitless, the newbie screaming and puking as the contents of the bag and his stomach all came back up, hitting both his face and the glass canopy of the plane.

The grin that crawled across Joe’s face was uncontrollable as he quietly laughed his ass off. God the stench was horrible, but he prayed it would be the ego check of a lifetime for the kid.

“You learn your fuckin lesson kid?” he chided.

“I give! I give!” Ivy League cried out before he retched and let loose again. “Oh God!!! Agh! Eeew!!”

“Ok, I think we’ve had enough,” Joe chuckled.

He landed the plane on the tarmac, quickly opening the canopy and motioning for a medical officer to get Ivy League out of the back.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Maverick laughed.

“Gave the kid an ego check!” Joe answered.

Maverick, Ice, Wolf, Slider and Hollywood whistled and cheered a little bit. Sure they felt a bit sorry for Ivy League, but one thing was certain. Nobody messes with one of their best.

Naval Air Station, Miramar

July, 2022

Jake, Phoenix and Halo waited for the plane to land and for Bob to come back, hoping that the rest of the new recruits had done ok in training. When he finally landed, they couldn’t help but notice a rather gross looking splatter on the glass canopy of Bob’s plane.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Hangman remarked.

“Bro, that’s nasty,” Halo added.

“Did Bob just commit murder?” Phoenix chuckled.

“Hell no, somebody puked,” Halo replied.

Bob came striding back, flight helmet in hand and a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He bit his lower lip, trying so hard to stifle his laughter, but it was damn near uncontrollable.

“What did you do?” Phoenix questioned.

“Did you just like, kill your new recruit?” Halo said with a nervous laugh.

Bob snickered and shook his head.

Phoenix and Halo glanced at each other, but Hangman’s eyes widened, finally processing the sequence of events that had transpired and the resurfacing of old memories from when he had first joined Top Gun ten years previously.

“HOLY SHIT!!!!!!” he screamed. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!”

Bob busted out laughing.

“You stole a page from your dad’s dirty playbook!!!!” Jake screamed again. “YOU SNEAKY FUCKER!!!!!”

Bob couldn’t control his laughter anymore. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, raising his hands and grinning from ear to ear.

“His dad?” Phoenix asked.

“Foul-Mouth Joe Floyd!” Jake answered. “He was my flight instructor when I first started ten years ago! He did the same thing to my dad’s prick of a cousin back in ninety-two!”

Callie and Natasha both looked at each other with their jaws hanging wide open in disbelief. Joe’s escapades were legendary around Top Gun, just as legendary as Maverick’s.

“Oh my shit!” Jake declared, wiping a tear from his eyes and pretending to kowtow before Bob. “Bob, you are the kind and we are not worthy!!”

Bob and the girls laughed before Natasha finally said something. “Bob my brother,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “You are the king......but you smell so fucking bad right now.”

“Yeah I’m gonna go shower off before I go home smelling like puke,” he chuckled before making his way inside to the showers.

@nobody7102 I did it.......I fucking did it, that little blurb has been turned into this evil science experiment of a story (lol). @creativitybeware @jakexfmc I hope you guys enjoy this too, sorry for the unexpected tag and for it being so long, there was alot to sort through to get it all down.

#top gun maverick #joe floyd (bob's dad)#pete maverick mitchell #ron slider kerner #leonard wolfman wolfe #rick hollywood neven #tom iceman kazansky #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #callie halo bassett #dagger squad #dagger squad antics

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