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#'what is he talking about' addressed to mac

charmac · 3 months

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Unspoken tension ahead of Charlie Work, a wound left open in Family Fight

The Production Order (the order in which the episodes are written) always seems of some value to me in Sunny, but 10 I find especially substantial. With half of the scripts of the season written by RCG, 4 are back-to-back (with their 5th one, Psycho Pete, being 2nd in order).

The run begins after The Gang Spies like U.S. Going off that into Charlie Work, as opposed to into that off Charlie Work, paints a very different narrative for the timeline.

We leave the reveal that Mac and Dennis are jerking off together into an episode that starts with high tension between Mac and Dennis. Dennis is frustrated that Mac isn't being direct, won't look him in the eyes, he's avoidant, timid. That's interesting, because Mac isn't usually any of those things, he's direct and abrupt and loud. Off 9, fully establishing Mac is gay, juxtaposing his closeted behaviour to Country Mac's openness, 10 focuses hard on the fact that Mac's confidence is continually battered as he refuses to step out of the closet. The Gang is tired of it, but Dennis is frustrated. His words maybe cut even deeper than the scratch, "Come to me like a man. Talk about being tough all the time, can't even look me in the eyes."

We leave CW and go into Family Fight, written right after, also by RCG. This episode has big focus on Dennis' obsession with public perception of himself, and the Gang. Though he can initially handle masking his demeanor, his tone of voice, what he can't mask are his words. He's smiling, he's 'joking', but there's deep truth in what he’s saying. He's frustrated, though his frustration in the moment is intended for Frank, Mac feels it directed at him. There's a fresh wound between them, because Mac fully understands what his feelings for Dennis are now, and that’s irreparably shifted their dynamic.

Misses the Boat is the last RCG-written episode of the season. From Charlie Work, where we’re kinda first faced with the fact that Mac is now overly-concerned with how Dennis perceives him, to Family Fight, where Dennis' masks slip completely and he has a public breakdown, they both veer hard to straighten themselves. Mac, very quite literally, goes straight, and Dennis resolves that he needs to cut ties to get back to being ‘cool’, he’s going to be a cool guy who has a cool car and hangs out with a babe and is cool.

But what we learn in Misses the Boat is that how they think the world views them, or should view them based on how they believe they present, isn’t who they are. They can’t actually function well in these situations. Dennis, untethered, somehow can’t control his rage as well as he can when he *is tethered* to the Gang. Mac, well, he isn’t straight, and he realises pretending to be into women is miserable.

Dennis gives him the offer: Do you want to go back? (To not addressing it, to a standstill.) And Mac quickly, excitedly takes it. Looping back to where they are in Charlie Work, back to where they settle for too long: Mac, absorbed in himself, clawing for approval from Dennis, and Dennis lashing out, tired of telling Mac what to do.

And I think this is why I love 10 more than anything, it finally addresses the issue the audience knows. With Charlie, Dee, and Frank, too. They’re going nowhere, spiraling in circles because they refuse to address the roots of their issues, and Misses the Boat makes them, themselves, fully aware of that fact. They’re miserable together, but they’re worse off alone. And they go into 11 and beyond knowing this, and all kind of resenting each other for it, until 14. Where they acknowledge it again, and decide they’re going to keep playing the game even though it’s set.

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pleasantlyinsincere · 8 months

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Chris Hutchins - John's This Photo Kills postcard and Stuart

It was a warm June day in 1965 when the postcard landed on the desk of my office at the NME, deep in the heart of Covent Garden. The card was addressed to me but John, whose unmistakable handwriting marked him out as my correspondent, began 'Dear Mick', clearly alluding to Mick Jagger [...]. The message went on in typical Lennon vein: 'Woke up this mornin' - cornflakes - brown sugar - dig? Shoes - mac - raining down - still digging? ... Folk fingers - brass coffee - couldn't sleep - broke my line. Won't be back in time. DIG??? He signed it 'THE BIFOLKALS'.

I read it over and over again but never could work out half of what he was trying to say. Except, that is, for the 'brown sugar' bit. It was the term in those days - and this was Sixties, remember - for heroin [...].

But it was the picture on the other side that was most interesting - a photograph of himself, Paul, George and Ringo. Over each face he had inked-in dark glasses and on his one hand showing, a black glove. There was more: in the center of the group he had drawn a fifth person, a fifth Beatle and it was none other than the late Stuart Sutcliffe. Stuart had always worn dark glasses.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

[John showing Hutchins around recently purchased Kenwood.]

There were John Lewis style paintings everywhere, but hung in one of the guest bedrooms were just two drawings and our host became clearly emotional when he explained they were there for 'sentimental reasons'. They were in fact works by his late dear friend, the man who helped him found the Beatles, Stuart Sutcliffe.

In that moment all John's feelings for the one man he had most liked and admired became apparent, he turned away but not before I saw his eyes welled up with tears. John never liked looking back when it exposed his feelings [...]. But even he could do nothing to hide the sadness brought on by such reminders of the past as hung before us.

We left the 'Sutcliffe room' and I noticed that he locked the door behind him. The room had become a shrine.

#random reading #john lennon #stuart sutcliffe

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builtbybrokenbells · 6 months

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Gold Dust Woman | xiv

Apologies and confessions lead to a climactic end for Gold Dust Woman.

Read part thirteen here

Listen while reading: the chain - fleetwood mac (other songs mentioned but not really important to the story)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader, Danny Wagner x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), touch of voyeurism, biting, lots of dirty talk, brief mention of spitting, touch of degradation, drinking, swearing, angst, arguing, breakups, crying, insecurity, self doubt, feelings of regret, anger, lots of fluff near the end 🫶🏻, sorry if I miss any!!

The last chapter 😭 these last few months of writing this story has been absolutely spectacular for me. the love and support and engagement I’ve received from you all has been mind blowing, and I’m so thankful for each and every one of you. Without you guys, Gold Dust Woman would be nothing. So thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I really hope that you enjoy the ending as much as I did. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻🫶🏻 (very lightly edited so please forgive me 😁)

“Sam,” You sighed, setting your coffee cup down with a shaking hand. “We have to talk.” You said, much less hesitation about your choices, now. It seemed like clarity had become you the minute you had realized Jake was the best person for you. You knew it was true, mostly because you had not felt one shred of anxiety that even came close to what you had been feeling all day. No, you weren’t excited to break Sam’s heart, but you were certainly less apprehensive about it than you were with Jake.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, stress already showing in his features. You managed a small smile, your stomach sick at the knowledge you would effectively have to go through two breakups in a single day.

“No, I guess it isn’t.” You said, moving to take a seat on the couch. “Sit with me?”

“Yeah, okay.” He whispered, sitting down beside you. You ran your hands over the fabric of your jeans, drawing in a long breath as you tried to settle your thoughts. Eventually, you looked over at him, noticing the sadness in his eyes before you even spoke a word. It killed you knowing that you had to be the bad guy despite months of trying to figure out how to end up the hero. The sad truth was, in the entanglement you had all found yourselves in, nobody could be the hero, yet you all seemed to fall somewhere under the victim category. So much suffering, yet no one to blame or save you from the pain.

“I love you, Sam.” You started, making sure that despite the impending doom, he knew that you still had so much love for him in your heart. Just because you were not going to be his forever did not mean that he wasn’t holding on to a huge part of you. “And I have for a really long time.”

“I know, y/n. I love you, too.” He said, watching expectantly as he prepared for the worst possible outcome of the conversation. You leaned back into the cushions, exhausted from the days events already, comforted none by the knowledge that it would only get worse from there. You reached out, grabbing his hand in your own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“There’s a saying that’s always stuck out to me,” you explained, tone quiet and as relaxed as possible. “If you don’t receive the love from the ones meant to love you, you’ll spend the rest of your life searching for it. I feel like up until now, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been looking for so long that I’m starting to go blind, and I’m missing the entire point of being alive.” You laughed at your own stupidity, finding your search for love quite comical in the moment. You had spent a lifetime trying to find something that you never really believed in, and now that two blatant contradictions to your disbelief happened to be staring you in the face, you had no idea how to address it. “I don’t remember who said it, but it’s always stuck with me. I always thought it was you, Sammy. I really did. I wish it was, because it kills me to do this to you, but it’s not.”

“Oh,” he breathed, nodding his head slowly as he absorbed the information you were giving him. It was a heavy hit, especially after you had stormed into the room with such excitement to see him, but he managed to persevere.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hoping to catch his eye to show him you were being genuine.

“You don’t have to be, Princess.” He assured you, letting out a long sigh. He could be all but mad at you, for he had made the bed that you were forcing him to lie in. “I knew the risks, and it was worth it. It was always worth it, for you.” He said, looking up to meet your face. “Y/n, I meant every single thing I said to you over the last few months; I care that you’re happy, and if this will make you happy, I can live with it.”

“You have no idea how badly I wish that it could’ve been us. I see Danny and Dylan, and I’m so envious that I never got to have that with you. It’s been so hard since the very beginning… I just feel like I never got to have you the way I wanted to.” You felt the tears brimming in your eyes once again, unsure if you could make it through the conversation without cracking. Everything hurt, and you had no idea how to stop it. Sometimes, you believed as though pain was the only thing you knew how to feel. “I love you so much Sam, and I’m lucky that I got the chance to have you at all, even if it was different than how I pictured it. These last few months were beautiful, and they taught me so much. Even if it didn’t work out the way we hoped does not mean it meant nothing to me.” Your cheeks were soaked with the admissions of your guilt, tears falling at an unprecedented rate and showing no signs of stopping. You couldn’t control it, and at this point, you didn’t really care to. Sorrow was heavy in the air, constantly following you and making home even when you tried so hard to keep it out. There was no shame in displaying your heart to him, because that’s all you knew how to do, anymore.

“Hey, come on.” He pleaded, reaching up to wipe your cheeks clean. “Don’t waste all of those tears on me. God knows I don’t deserve it.” He said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do, Sam. You deserve the world, and I wish that I could have given it to you.” You cried, leaning into his touch in hopes that it would take away some of the pain. “Maybe I could have loved you better if I loved myself more. I might have found the courage to say something sooner, and we could be living in the universe where we’re happy and everything is okay.”

“This isn’t your fault, y/n.” He said, fighting back tears of his own. “It’s mine; I should have said something sooner, I should have fought harder, or maybe I never should have put you in a position like this at all. I guess it doesn’t really matter, now. The war is over, and you can stop fighting. You’re tired, and I’ve known it for a while. I’m sorry that I let things go this far. You can blame whoever you want, but please stop blaming yourself.” He moved ever so slightly closer to you, grabbing your face gently between his hands. “If this is going to make you the happiest, I would never be upset at you for it. You deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. You always try and give it to everyone else, but it’s your turn, baby. You get to enjoy it, and you don’t have to worry about me.” He wiped your face clean once more, the soft touch warming your soul and soothing the pain. You wished so badly to make everyone happy, to settle the problem with no casualties, but it was just not possible. Someone had to hurt, or all of you would hurt. There was no winning, and in a way, everyone lost at least something along the way.

“In another world, Sammy.” You said, recalling the daydreams you and him had shared in the past. They seemed so close, so real, but you didn’t want to reach for them anymore. Your arms were tired of searching for something that might never be found, and if they were, you knew they would not have been able to compare to the fairytale world that you had created in your mind. “We’d have the house, the dogs, and the rest of our lives.”

“I’ll be dreaming of that world forever,” he said, a sad smile crossing his lips. “Just make sure that he treats you right, because you deserve it, and you make sure that he knows he’s the luckiest man to ever walk this earth. If he doesn’t realize that, then I’ll remind him myself.”

“Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not hating me.” You sniffled, already so burnt out from the whirlwind of emotion the day had thrown at you.

“Hate you?” He scoffed, a smile on his face despite tears welling in his eyes. “There is no possible way that I could ever hate you, y/n. You’re my best friend above anything else, and you’ve given me a lifetime’s worth of happiness in just a few months. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I could never make one as big as that.”

“I could never hate you either, Sammy. I hope that when this all settles, we can still be friends. I don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

“Of course we can. It’s going to suck at first, and it’s going to hurt, but we’ll get through it. We can get through anything.” He promised. “Thank you for being honest, and thank you for giving me the best few months of my entire life.”

“Thank you, Sam. You showed me how beautiful this life can be when you’re looking in the right places, and you helped me more than you can ever imagine.” You said, reaching out to brush the hair from his face. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin on his cheek, feeling better than you had in days. You hated hurting him, but you knew that it was what you had to do; Sam was your best friend, someone you loved to be around and loved making memories with, but in the long term, it just wasn’t right. You could have a good life with him, a great one, even, but you feared that it paled in comparison to the life you could live with Jake. Sam was comfortable, familiar, and fantastic all the same. He would make a phenomenal partner, but you knew he would be suited best for someone else. Jake was what you needed, what you craved for the future, and you knew he was exactly what your heart wanted. The truth lied within the fact that you were aching all over after walking away from him, and now that you knew you were walking away from Sam, you felt lighter than you ever had before. It did not feel good to hurt him, but it felt good to free yourself from the chains that your entanglement was tying you down with, and it felt good to finally be certain in your own decisions.

“You did too, Princess.” He mumbled, closing his eyes to hold back his tears. “Like I said before, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here. I’d wait for you forever if I had to. If you ever decide to try again, I promise I’ll do it right, next time.” He said, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your thumb.

“It has nothing to do with rights and wrongs, Sammy. I made just as many mistakes as anyone else. Don’t punish yourself for it, because we were all doing what we thought was best.” He nodded, hearing your words and trying his best to adhere to the request. “Thank you for everything.” You said once again, making sure your gratitude was clearly expressed.

“I assume you have to go deliver the good news, now?” He asked, eyes glistening with an emotion you had never seen from him before. It was killing you to cause him such suffering, but it was for the best, and in years to come you hoped to look back on this rough patch and have all of you laugh at your own stupidity.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sighed, ready to make amends with Jake but not ready to leave Sam. “One last kiss, for old times sake?” You asked, a shred of hope in your voice. He chuckled at your question, drawing you in to him without another word. The kiss was soft, sweet yet sad all the same. It was a celebration as much as it was a goodbye. When you parted, sadness lingered on both of your faces, but there was also relief in knowing that the struggle was over. As much as he was mourning the fact that he couldn’t have you, he respected your choice, and he knew that with time he could heal the wounds he collected from the battle. The dance that you had been doing was only worsening them, and with proper care, the scars might be so light that you would never guess they existed in the first place. “I love you, Sam. I think I will for the rest of my life. A piece of me will always belong to you.”

“Me too, y/n. I love you, and I hope that even after it’s all said and done, you don’t forget that.”

“Never.” You promised, placing another kiss to his cheek, this time. “I’ll see you soon, Sammy.”

“I hope so,” he said, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet. He gave a small wave goodbye before disappearing out of the room. You took in a long breath, but stood despite your body begging you not to. You were terrified to face the world after inflicting so much damage on another, and more so, you were terrified of rejection from Jake. After hurting him so badly, you would understand if he never wanted to speak to you again. You hoped that it was not the case as you broke into the hallway, headed straight for the direction of his dressing room, because you feared that him turning you down would effectively turn you to dust.

You stopped in front of his door, no more hesitation present in your mind as you knocked on the door. You waited for something, but received nothing. There was not even a hint that there was life inside the room. You swore under your breath as you raised your hand to knock again. You listened intently, wondering if you might be able to hear a movement beyond the door, but there wasn’t a thing that signalled that he was inside. You tried not to let the disappointment take over, but it was creeping up on you faster with every second that passed. You worried that you had effectively driven the final nail in the coffin, that you had pushed him just a little too far and now there was no way to recover from the hurt you had caused. You took a step back from the door as you continued deliberating your next move. You looked down the hallway, feeling like you had stumbled upon the key to the grand prize. Josh was walking towards you, mindless and uncaring of his surroundings.

You stepped towards him, cutting him off before he could make it any further and startling him with the suddenness. “Josh,” you greeted, trying to keep your frantic mind away from the public eye.

“Gold Dust Woman,” he greeted, slowly looking over your face. “You don’t look very good.”

“No,” you chuckled, knowing his observation barely scratched the surface “guess I don’t.” You sighed, wondering how to word your question to showcase the importance of your need for an answer. “Is Jake in his room? O-or do you know where he is? I really need to talk to him.” Your nervousness slipped out in your stutter, and he was quick to catch on to it.

“Uh, no, he’s not in his room.” He said, a note of sympathy in his eyes. “He’s in pretty bad shape, y/n. I think it’s best to leave things be for now.” If your heart could shatter any more, it did just that at the sound of his words.

“I know I fucked up, Josh. I just need to talk to him and make it right.” You whispered.

“Listen,” he sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze “you’re my best friend, but he’s my brother. I know that you didn’t want to hurt him, and I know it was never your intention, but he needs some time to heal. Sometimes it’s better to just let it go and move forward.” His sympathy felt like a punch in the face, but his misunderstanding of your intent was even worse.

“No, Josh, I’m not trying to coddle him because I broke his heart, I’m telling you that I fucked up. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I need to make it right. I’m not trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, I need to tell him that I was wrong.” You rushed your words, looking over his confused expression. You gave a nervous gulp, not wanting to speak the obvious but knowing that it would be the only way he understood your intent. “I just broke up with Sam. I was wrong, Josh, and I need to say it before it’s too late.” You were desperate in your explanation, hoping that now he could see what you were trying to tell him. His eyebrows raised, lips parting slightly in shock at your words. “This whole thing is a mess, and I know that I’m at fault, but I’m trying to do the right thing. I need to do right by him, Josh. I swear I’m not trying to hurt him any more.”

“Oh, wow.” He said, processing the information you had thrown at him.

“I know, and you can hate me for hurting them; god knows I deserve it, but he deserves the truth. He deserves everything good in this world and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. I know he’s your brother, and I know you’re trying to protect him, and I’m so grateful that he has someone as good as you to look out for him, but please, if he’s in your room just let me see him.”

“I don’t hate you, y/n. I just wish I could solve it for everyone, take the pain away, even. You’re all family, and this is incredibly confusing and frustrating, but I do not hate you.” He clarified, moving forward to pull you into a hug. “You’re sure?”

“More than anything else in the whole world.” You assured him, holding him tightly as if it would ease your hurt. His arms were familiar, but strange in the sense that you knew it was not him you were supposed to be hugging.

“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” He said, giving you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Thank you,” you said, but it held little weight in comparison to the relief you felt at his words.

“I think Aaron’s looking for you,” he nodded in the direction of the manager who was quickly approaching the pair of you. “Probably time for soundcheck.”

“Fuck sakes.” You sighed, turning to see for yourself. Josh was right, Aaron was talking to you before he was even in earshot, ordering your presence on stage. As much as you loved your job, you seemed to despise it more than anything in that moment. You looked back at Josh, giving him another silent thanks with your eyes before walking away. You went right to the stage, ignoring any other attempts at initiating conversation from anyone else passing by. Dylan was sitting at the drum set, tapping out a small beat while Riley was soloing on his bass guitar. Not even the sight of your best friends could break you from your misery; tears were still begging to be shed, only worsening when you picked up your own instrument. “Let’s get this over with.” You muttered, uttering a small check into the mic to make sure it was on.

“You seem chipper today.” Dylan noted, begging to catch a glimpse of your face so she could judge what type of poor mood you were in. “Left this morning before I even woke up. Felt like a cheap tinder date.” You let out a small chuckle at her joke, but opted not to respond as you tuned your strings to your liking. Without any warning, you let out a loud strum on the strings, kicking on your distortion pedal as you stepped towards the mic and let out a shout.

As if it were muscle memory, as soon as she heard the sound, Dylan joined in on the drums. Riley followed suit, singing into his own microphone alongside of you. You proceeded with the song, singing the lyrics with all of the emotion you were holding in your heart. Riley allowed you to sing the verses and the chorus, only joining in every so often when he felt the need to accentuate your impact. When the solo came around, you looked only at the floor as your hands did all of the work. As you finished, you leaned forward to sing the last few lines, ending the most passionate rendition of ‘Them Bones’ by Alice in Chains you had ever performed.

“So we’re angry, today.” Dylan said, catching her breath as she rested her arms for a moment.

“We’re everything today, Dylan.” You corrected, switching to your clean setting. “Try Little Wing.”

“You got it.” She said, waiting for you to begin. You played around with the Wah pedal, making sure your tone was right before you started the melodic intro. You couldn’t look out to the seats, knowing that there was only two bodies watching this time around. It killed you to know you had hurt the brothers enough that they felt as though they couldn’t even watch your rehearsal. Your chest was aching, wondering if you had truly fucked everything up as badly as you believed you did.

The cry of your guitar was similar to the one of your soul, echoing through the empty air just to return back and strike you in the face. Your eyes were still blurred with tears of defeat, but you refused to let any more fall. The weakness you had displayed within the last few hours left you shocked that you hadn’t crumbled to the ground in a mess of your former self, yet. You felt like you could, and you definitely wanted to, but you knew you had to keep going for just a little while longer. Your bones ached with exhaustion and your body was begging for a moment of peace, yet you continued on as if nothing was wrong. It was your best defence mechanism, and your only one. If you stopped now, you would never get back up again. As tempting as it was, giving up was not an option until you settled the score with Jake and did everything you could to make things right again.

Dylan drummed along with your playing and Riley was near perfect in his timing, but when you stepped up to sing, your fingers slipped from their position. An off note rang through the air, covered by your voice and quick work at recovery. You made it through the lyrics with no other mishaps, but when the outro came around, you seemed to completely lose your train of thought midway through. You let out a slur of curses, angry at yourself and the instrument for not doing what you wanted it to do. “All good, y/n.” Dylan tried to mediate, knowing your temper all too well. “Can try it again if you want.”

“No, just move on.” You shook your head, starting into another riff. You only chose to play it as a way to prove to yourself you still had the talent, but you couldn’t seem to get the right sound from your guitar that you were hoping for. You tried it a few more times, but couldn’t find the right rhythm for the outcome you wanted. “Fuck!” You exploded, your moment of anger catching you off-guard and echoing through the microphone. You practically ripped the strap from your body, slamming the guitar onto the stand and walking away without another word. Dylan nor Riley felt the need to call you back, knowing that your time on stage had come to an end for the time being. Forcing you to pick the guitar back up would only result in a catastrophic mess, and they were not willing to risk another Gibson guitar being shattered on the floor of a stage.

You walked around the corner, ignoring Aaron’s persistent complaints about your short lived soundcheck, and headed straight to your dressing room. The door slammed behind you with enough force to knock the building down and you collapsed on your couch without any care for your childish display. You put your head in your hands, hoping to hold the tears in for good, but they still seemed to find away around the strength in which your palms were pressed to your face. You felt like the world was ending, the sky crashing down and the earth cracking below you. After so long playing with fire, you had finally succumbed to the fatal burns of your own mistakes. You had hurt the two people you loved most, and you knew nothing about how to fix it, or even if you could mend the damage you had done.

You reached to your purse that was lazily discarded on the floor, rummaging around before finding a few single-shot bottles of whiskey. You took one and swallowed it down, ignoring the sting that settled in your chest, for it was much more pleasant than how you were already feeling. You dumped the other two into the coffee cup that Sam had given you, the liquid just reaching the brim of the cup. You took two long sips from it, uncaring of the unpleasant taste. You made it halfway through the brew before the knocking began. If you had to choose your least favourite sound, that would be at the top of your list. You ignored it the first few times, but it had eventually gotten so loud and persistent that you could no longer tune it out.

You swung the door open, met with the face of your stylist. “Told you we’d be spending lots of time together, today.” She said, opting to ignore your clear distress.

“Kind of in the middle of something.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows at her disregard for the scene.

“Moping around your dressing room?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she waited for an answer. When you remained silent, she stepped inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up and brand new, again.” She said, kicking the door shut behind her. She motioned for you to sit in your chair, to which you obeyed. She was a strong personality, one that was hard to adjust to, but you loved her. Much like everyone else on tour, she was family, and unlike everyone else, she wasn’t one to feed into your bullshit. “Get it all out now,” she said, looking to you as she took a seat on the arm of your couch.

“You want me to cry on command?” You questioned, confused about her motive.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want.” She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. You felt like you were being graded on your misery, and it was a very confusing feeling. So confusing, that you almost seemed to be distracted from your poor mood.

“I… I think I’m okay, now.” You said, certain that the tears had finally run dry.

“You better be sure, because once I start, I can’t have you crying all of my hard work away.” You wanted to argue with her, but somehow the blunt words seemed to snap you out of your previous state of mind. Actually, you found them quite funny. She approached you after pulling a few things from her bag, giving you ample opportunity to double back on your word. She kneeled in front of you, bringing a makeup wipe to your face as she softly removed any physical reminders of your hurt. “I told you not to let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman.”

“I think I stole my own shine, Rachel.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, dabbing away the mascara stains from under your eye. “Whoever stole it needs to give me my girl back, because this is not the Gold Dust Woman I know.”

“I know.” You agreed, solemnly cementing her words in truth.

“We’re gonna make you look beautiful, and then hopefully your mind will follow suit. Sometimes you just need a little break from the world.” She was right, and usually your time spent with her was a break from the real world. She put you in a suit of armour with her work, turning you into a version of yourself you barely believed to be real. You hoped that once she dressed you in your stage clothes, you could find the confidence to make it through the rest of the night. She was like a mother in the way she cared; firm yet comforting, and unwilling to put up with any bullshit. Neither of you seemed to talk much about any troubles, but she always seemed to make you feel better just by being in your company.

Once your face was clean, she took extra time to soothe the puffiness from all of the crying. When she began to apply makeup, she used a gentle touch and utmost concentration. She didn’t break her focus until she was certain that she had perfected the look. She guided you to your clothes, allowing you to dress yourself before she fine tuned any details. You were clad in a gold tank top, elegant and beautiful in its simplicity. It was filled with very tiny, reflective sequins that from afar seemed to blend into one. It was low cut, the neckline lax and swooping down as it settled on itself. It stopped just above your navel, the material loose and comfortable to move in. She picked a pair of leather pants that flared at the bottom but stayed very form fitting above the knee. She pinned your shirt in place before moving on to your hair. She touched up her earlier work but didn’t change much, leaving it hang freely over your shoulders before spraying it with hairspray.

“How do you feel?” She asked, voice quiet as she stepped out of your view of the mirror. You inspected your reflection, wondering if the woman staring back at you was truly you, or just an imposter begging you to believe it. You couldn’t tell for a second that you had been such a mess only a short time before. Your eyes were painted dark and prominent, standing out even further by the accent of gold eyeliner she had trailed down your face. She had made gold tears with the makeup, so subtle that you could miss it, yet shining just perfectly under the light.

“You deserve a raise,” you breathed, leaning closer to inspect yourself even further. She crouched down, now the same height as you and staring into the mirror with you.

“Even when you cry, y/n, it’s made of gold.” She whispered, looking to your face with a small smile on her lips. “Bring back my Gold Dust Woman. Show them that you’re worth more than all of that pain.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” You said, feeling more gratitude for her than you could even comprehend. The relationship between an artist and a stylist is nearly incomprehensible; no, you did not share the darkest of your secrets with her, but she most often saw the most vulnerable and intimate parts of you. She was projecting your inner self outwardly, and to do so, she needed to know you wholly. She was phenomenal at her job, and you were eternally grateful for her.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She said, standing once again. “Put my work to good use, then we’ll have time for gratitude.” You chuckled at her bold persona, nodding in agreement. She straightened the gold chains around your neck before slipping out of the room in silence. You waited until her footsteps faded away until you moved out of your chair, finding a shred of courage to move towards the hallway yourself.

You peered into the open area, timid to find the bodies that occupied it. You leaned against the doorframe, finding Riley and Dylan only a few feet away from the stage. You could hear the soft lull of Jake’s guitar calling to you, begging you to go and watch him work his magic. You took a few steps forward towards your bandmates, sneaking up behind them and shocking them with your presence. “Hey,” you uttered, remorseful about your blatant disregard for the soundcheck earlier. Dylan tuned her head to look at you, softened by your shy expression. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she said, knowing that there was nothing you could do about it now. “Just don’t do it tonight.”

“Of course not,” you assured her, sneaking into the small space between her and Riley.

“You okay, now?” He asked, turning his head to look down at you.

“Yeah, much better.” You nodded.

“That’s all that matters.” He said, slipping an arm around your waist. Dylan did the same, a silent show of agreement. You slung you arms around their shoulders, finding it easier to stand with the strength of their support. You knew that no matter what happened, you had plenty of love coming your way. You had a world full of friends who would give anything to make you smile and go to the ends of the earth to take away the sadness. Grateful was not a strong enough word to express how you felt about them, and you wished you could be better at showing it. Your hope was that when the storm settled from loving the Kiszka’s, the world would appear easier to understand and navigate.

You watched the stage from the sideline, noticing immediately that you were on the same side as Jake normally took post on. It was hard to notice anyone or anything else when he was around because his presence took up all of the space in a room. He was beautiful, kind and generous beyond measure, and you were so close to having him forever. You were foolish to let him slip through your fingers once, and you would be damned to ever let it happen again. He was the earth you stood on, the sky above, and the air you breathed. Jake was everything, and you were an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. You felt entranced as you watched his fingers graze the fretboard, pulled in by his talent and suffocated by his beauty. Before you even knew it, the song had came to an end and the boys were walking away from the instruments.

You thought that this was your chance to get Jake by himself for a moment. As he walked towards you, head turned towards the ground, you broke free of the hold your bandmates had on you. You stepped to the side, landing a few feet in front of Jake in hopes to stop him from going any further. He looked up, surprised at your presence. He looked worse than you had ever seen him; his eyes were tired, bloodshot as if he’d spent the afternoon in the same state you had been. At the sight of you, he did not smile, nor did he give you any hint that he was happy to see you. You could not blame him, because if you were in his shoes, you would never want to speak to you again. Still, you persevered in hopes that you could change the situation for the better despite your heart begging you to run and hide.

“Jake,” you whispered, holding his gaze for as long as he would allow it. “Can I talk to you for a second? Please?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, pain rising in his features the longer he was in your company. “I just need some time, okay?”

“No, Jake, I swear-“

“Please,” he cut you off, clearly not knowing what you were trying to tell him. “Just give me a few days, then I promise we can try the friends thing.” He mumbled, averting his gaze away from you. You wanted to scream your love from him so loudly that it shattered the windows and lived inside the walls forever, to show the world how much he meant to you and how apologetic you were for not realizing it sooner, but you seemed frozen in your place. The rejection was not unexpected, but it was debilitating.

“No, I just need-“ you tried again, but his hand landed on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance before he stepped past you and continued down the hall. You turned, watching him appear smaller and smaller before he eventually turned into a room and disappeared from sight completely. You thought you were going to be sick, broken underneath the weight of the love you were carrying for him. As much as you wanted to chase after him, you knew it was best to let him come to you in his own time. Still, even if you knew it was for the best did not make the fact easy to choke down.

You looked over to your bandmates, noticing that they had been watching the interaction unfold in hopes of discovering the source of your misery. You let out a long sigh, shrugging your shoulders as if to tell them you didn’t know any more than they did. Dylan nodded her head towards her dressing room, silently asking if you wanted to wait with her until it was time to perform. You have a solemn nod, letting her lead the way. When the three of you were together in her dressing room, door closed and locking out any unwanted listeners, she finally felt comfortable enough to pry some information for you. You explained to the two about the events of the day, biting back tears as you spoke. When you made it to the end of your sad story, the shock on their faces was too much to bear. You closed your eyes, leaning your head on the back of the couch while you tried to forget about the sadness that seemed to make permanent home in your head.

“So, how are you going to tell him?” Dylan asked, now at the hands of the stylist who had recently been in your own company.

“Have to get him to talk to me first, don’t you think?”

“No,” her answer was simple.

“How am I supposed to tell someone I love them without talking to them?” You rolled your eyes, sipping on the drink Riley had grabbed for you. A little liquid courage could get you through anything, or that’s what you always thought. This time, it seemed different. The anxiety stemming from your predicament with Jake seemed too large to calm with any sort of substance. You weren’t worried about superficialities, nor surface level scars that would fade into nothing; this was the love of your life, someone who you wanted to spend forever with, and you were terrified you had lost him for good.

“Do you forget that we’re in a band?” Riley asked, looking over at you with a hint of humour in his eye. He was tipsy, but he was just as enthralled in the conversation as Dylan. “We write about our feelings for a living. Sing him a song, dumbass.” You reached over, smacking his arm gently as you both dissolved into a fit of laughter. The more time you spent with the two, the more the dread seemed to float away. It was still lingering, but it seemed much less daunting with them in your company.

“What song should I sing?” You asked, tracing circles into the fabric of your pants to distract yourself from your fear.

“That one’s on you,” Riley said. “I’m not the one confessing my love for him.”

“Maybe you should, I think you two would be awfully cute together.” Dylan teased, hidden behind Rachel as she had her face painted with stage makeup.

“I’ll let her shoot her shot, first. If she fucks up, though…” Riley trailed off, slowly turning his gaze towards you. “You better watch out.” Another chorus of laughter echoed through the room at his words. After the excitement died down, you drifted away into your thoughts, thinking of the best way to express your feelings for him. After a few moments, an idea surfaced in the mess of self-doubt that seemed impossible to pass up.

“I got it.” You announced, a small smile breaking out on your lips. Riley leaned over, giving you a pat on the back as a way to say he was proud of you.

And thus began the longest wait of your entire life.

The minutes seemed to pass with the length of an hour, and the hours felt like eternities. You drank, trying to settle the nerves in yours stomach, and tapped your foot against the floors to rid yourself of the jitters. Riley left the room to allow Dylan to get changed, and eventually Rachel left to tend to his stage outfit. The small talk had between you and your drummer was nearly painful, both of you knowing that you were completely uninvested in any of the topics at hand. You were nearly vibrating by the time Aaron knocked on the dressing room door, bursting at the seams with anticipation of getting on stage. You joined together at the side of the stage, listening to Aaron’s short instructions to ensure the performance would run smoothly.

When he motioned for you to start, you have a nod and a prayer for enough confidence to get through the night. When you appeared in front of the crowd, you were met with cheers and applause, fuelling your ego only enough for you to pick up your guitar. Dylan sat behind her drums, a blinding smile on her lips as she started a slow beat on the kick drum to set the mood. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Riley asked, met with a cheer of an excitement from the audience. He looked over to you, laughing at the sound.

“We’re Gold Dust Woman, and we’re so excited to spend the evening with you all. Here’s a song we wrote about being drunk…” you said, looking to Riley for a moment “and in love.” You started a familiar riff, one that had been circling around the internet after your first performance of the song. You knew that once the tour finished up, it would be first on the list of songs to record.

The longer you played, the more confident you felt in your own ability. You found yourself intermittently checking over your shoulder, looking to see if the boys were watching you from their usual spot. At first, there was only Josh and Danny observing from the sidelines. Halfway through the set, Sam made an appearance, looking beautiful in his stage clothes and makeup. Your heart ached at the sight, but when he caught your eye and gave you a reassuring smile, you felt on top of the world. The weight lifted from you ever so slightly just by knowing he did not hold any resentment towards you. There was only one more loose end that needed tying, and you had put your entire faith in the idea that Jake would be willing to watch your performance that night.

When you got down to the last three songs, you were tired and dejected, ready to pack up your things and stitch up your wounds. Jake had not yet made an appearance, and you were beginning to believe he would not leave his room until the second he was needed on stage. You couldn’t blame him, but you so desperately wanted to blame someone, which ultimately landed you back in your initial position. All of the self-doubt and insecurities flooded back in, giving your hands a nervous tremor as you played the solo of your second to last song. Riley sang softly over your playing, distracting the crowd from any potential mishaps your fingers may have caused. You finished with a small outro, trying to zone in on your fretboard to avoid any further mistakes. You finished with a smile, happy that you finished at all.

You looked back over your shoulder, knowing that you would be met with another staggering rejection, yet needing to check anyway. Your heart nearly erupted from your chest and your breath caught in your throat. Your head was swimming with adoration as your eyes landed on the fourth body that finally joined the crowd. He caught your gaze, the same intense emotion taking hold of him in an instant. You struggled to break from the state, wishing to stay lost in his eyes for the rest of time. His lips upturned in the corner, not quite smiling at you, but acknowledging that he was invested in you. You managed to shake your head free from the overwhelming fear, looking to Riley in hopes he could communicate with you wordlessly. You nodded your head in his direction, silently asking if you could switch positions. He caught on immediately, making it seem like the interaction was planned all along as he moved towards you.

You gave him a high five as you passed, trying to make the switch as relaxed as possible. “Alright, we’ve got one more song for you tonight, and it’s a very special one to me.” You said, tuning down your top string. “If you know it, sing it with me. I think I might need some help to get through it.” You encouraged, tuning your bottom string. You casted a look back towards Dylan, a hopeful smile on your lips. She gave you a grin with all of the support she could muster in her features. She gave you a drum roll, hiking anticipation until you began playing.

You began the infamous introduction, the first cluster of notes immediately sending a surge of excitement through the room. Dylan joined in, giving you a steady beat, and Riley bit back a smile as he plucked the top string of his bass.

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies” Riley sang with you, your voices harmonizing alongside the crowd’s excited voices. You took a step back, playing a small part on the guitar before leading him into the chorus. Before you began, you looked over at the group of boys watching your performance. You caught Jake’s eye, holding him captive as you sang directly to him.

“And if you don’t love me now,

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain” you sang, powerful and with clear intent. Jakes head cocked to the side, his eyebrow raising in disbelief as he watched your blatant display of emotion. You sang the chorus once more before breaking your gaze, focusing on your hands to regain your composure. You could feel the rhythm in your heart, the beat of the drum rattling your bones and the bass pounding in your ears. If you could keep your focus on the music, you could finish the song. You continued repeating it in your head until you believed it.

“Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light” you looked to Riley, allowing him to lead you back into the chorus. He sang alone while you echoed his words back to him. He let you sing the next one, switching roles so he could echo you. You looked back at the side stage, the shine of tears in your eye as you saw the look of anger begin to form on Jake’s face. You continued singing, only stopping so he could play the bass line leading up to the solo. On his second run through, you began picking the bottom strings, speeding your pace the longer you played. You took a step back from the mic, losing yourself to the tune. You let your head fall back, eyes closed as your hands guided you through the process of the solo. When it came time to sing again, you were overcome with a sudden burst of energy.

“Chain keep us together!” You shouted into the microphone, looking to Riley as you did so.

“Running in the shadows!” He sang back, watching you to see when you would start again. You repeated your line, more passion than the last time, and he copied your energy. You grinned, walking over to him before singing again. He stepped to the side, allowing you to join him at his microphone. He faced you, playing at you as you did the same to him.

“Chain keep us together!”

“Running in the shadows!” You sang into the same mic, face to face as you played your instruments. The passion was electric, igniting your heart and your soul as it only increased further. You looked past Riley, catching Jake’s gaze one last time before singing the line once more. Dylan let out a loud bang on the drums, stopping the song entirely and filling the air with silence. After a second, everyone erupted into cheers. Dylan stood behind her drum set, raising her arms in the air in triumph. You looked back at her, laughing at her antics.

“Thank you, and goodnight!” Riley yelled into the microphone. You waved out at the crowd, slipping your strap over your shoulder and handing it off to a sound tech waiting for you just off the stage. You were breathless, barely able to thank the group for their endless compliments on your performance. You were stopped before you could move any further, frozen in your tracks by a body that stepped in front of you. You looked up, meeting Jakes angry eyes while fear settled in your stomach. Both of you were too caught up in the flurry of emotion to care about your surroundings, ignoring Aaron’s warning of the boys 45 minute timer until they got on stage.

Jake reached out, placing a hand on your upper arm as he guided you away from the group and towards your dressing room. He pushed the door shut behind him, looking to you as he waited for an explanation. You were at a loss for words, not expecting your performance to catch his attention so efficiently. “What the fuck was that, y/n?” He asked, his stare burning into you and his tone harsh. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find anything meaningful to say. “You break up with me, tell me you’re in love with my brother, and then you get up on stage and pull a stunt like that? I have no idea what you want from me. If you want Sam, then have him, but you need to give me some time to get over you!”

“I was wrong!” You blurred out, panic stricken and desperate for him to slow down. “I don’t want you to get over me because I was wrong, Jake!” He paused, completely still as his expression shifted. He was frozen, eyes glossed over with disbelief as he processed your words.

“What?” His voice was quiet now, approaching you with utmost caution as if he was afraid to scare you away.

“I love you, Jake, and I was wrong.” You whispered, taking a step closer to him. “I was so wrong, and I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve already caused, but I can’t let you go. I love you. Three months ago, I loved you. In a year from now, I’ll still love you. When I’m eighty years old and watching the world happen around me from my front porch, I will still be thinking about how much I love you. It’s the type of love that’s forever, and I know that I will never feel this way for anyone else in my entire life. I’m so sorry for not seeing it sooner, and for walking away, or for thinking that there might be something happier for me somewhere else, but it’s just not true. You are everything Jake, and I am certain of that. You wouldn’t listen to me earlier, but I needed to tell you. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let you go.”

He watched you, head tilted to the side slightly as he absorbed your confession. His lips were parted slightly, in awe at the profound nature of your words. As nervous as you were, you couldn’t help but admire him. The beauty that he was surrounded with was indescribable; the way his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process his thoughts, the glimmer in his eye that gave you a shred of hope, all of it. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe that you had the opportunity to love him at all. You wanted to step forward, to be so close to him that you never had to worry about distance again, but you were afraid. You awaited the invitation, your body yearning to be in his arms and addicted to the memory of his touch.

“I know that this has been hard, and we’ve messed up, but I don’t want to make mistakes with anyone else, Jake. I would be happier struggling with you than I would be if I was comfortable with someone else. I don’t know how to love, or what it really means to love someone so completely and selflessly, but I know that I feel it for you, and god do I know that you feel it for me. I’ve never been so loved in my entire life, and I never want to let it go. You love the parts of me that I thought would always be unlovable. You loved me so much even knowing that you could get hurt, and you loved me even while I was hurting you. I’ve never really been in love like this before, but I know that this is what it’s supposed to be like.” You rambled, confessing every thought that crossed your mind. You hoped that it was enough, because you couldn’t fathom the thought of watching him walk away.

“A-are you sure?” He asked, seeming like he wanted to reach out for you but worried that it might be some kind of sick joke.

“I am more sure than I’ve ever been before.” You whispered, gravitating towards him despite your brain telling you to stop.

“100 percent?” He asked again, also leaning closer as he asked.

“A million percent, Jake.” The pain that was on his face seemed to vanish at your assurance. Without another word, he stepped forward, so close to you that it made your head spin. He grabbed your face in his hands, leaning down and kissing you with every ounce of love he could muster. You flung your arms around his torso, pulling him as close as possible. You wished you could live in the moment of euphoria forever, knowing that nothing in your life could ever top the feeling of loving him freely. He broke away from you, his face still dangerously close to your own. He pressed another soft kiss to your lips as a way of thanking you for coming back, but he had no need to thank you for anything.

You slipped your hands under his suit jacket, desperate to be closer but unsure of how to do it. He laughed at you, your cold hands shocking his warm skin. You looked up at him, hearts dancing in your eyes as you lost yourself in his expression of elation. “You meant everything?” He mumbled, looking over your face and soaking in every detail.

“I will scream it from every rooftop in the world if I have to. If that’s what it takes for you to understand how much you mean to me, I’d do it a hundred times over again.” His eyes were speaking words that only your soul could understand, pulling you in further and making you fall even further in love. “When I left earlier, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made a huge mistake. I came inside to to talk to Sam, and I couldn’t do it. It’s always been you, even if I was too stupid to see it.” You said, feeling choked up just at the thought of leaving him. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I know I can’t take it back but I hope that I can make it up to you with enough time.” He let his thumb drift over your cheek, shaking his head before you even finished speaking.

“No apologies, angel. It doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is that you’re here with me, now.” You smiled, unable to contain your excitement any longer. His lips were still close enough to your own that you could feel him start to smile, too. Without warning, he moved his hands, crouching down slightly and anchoring them on the back of your thighs. In one swift motion, he picked you up off the floor. You let out a shriek of surprise as you wrapped your legs around him and threw your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He laughed at the sound, making sure to hold you tightly so you knew there was no fear of falling. But, as long as you were with Jake, you were well aware that you would never have to fear falling unless it was in love, because he was always waiting to catch you.

“So this is it? We get to be happy, now?” You asked, looking down at him. It was almost too fantastic to be true, but you knew that it had to be, because no dream could make you feel as good as you did in that moment.

“I think so,” He breathed, grinning up at you with the same happiness in his heart. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the moment and unable to hold back any emotion trying to push through. A tear rolled down your cheek, which he was quick to spot. “Why are you crying, baby?” He asked, concern thick in his voice. “There’s no need for tears, anymore.”

“I’m just happy,” you said, voice shaking as you spoke. “I’m so happy, Jake. I never thought I could be this happy. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be something more than what I was born with, more than what I was ever given, but all of the work never seemed to make any sense because I still went home feeling the same way. I don’t feel like that, now. For the first time in my life, things feel perfectly right.” And it was true; you had searched forever, always coming out empty handed and wondering if you would ever find the thing you wanted most. Now, it was in front of you, and with a promise of forever. It was almost too much to take, but you were trying your hardest to accept it.

He moved to the couch, sitting down while being cautious of not dropping you. Once you were settled in his lap, he brought a hand to your face and wiped away any fallen tears. “It can be like this forever, y/n.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I promise I will love you as long as you want me to, and long after that. You are my heart and my soul, and everything worthwhile. I want to be everything you need, whenever you need it.”

“You’ve already given me the whole world, Jake.” You said, bringing your hand to his cheek. “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have.”

“And I’ll keep giving until I can’t give any more.” He said, drawing you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, Gold Dust Woman. All I ever wanted to do was make you happy.”

“Happy doesn’t even come close to what you do for me.” You said, running a hand through his hair. He placed a kiss to the skin on your neck, pulling away only for a second before beginning to move upwards. He kissed a trail to your lips, the final kiss nearly too sweet to break. You held him to you, settling your other hand on his shoulder to support yourself.

It only took a moment for the passion to catch up to you, weeks of being deprived of each other taking its toll and begging you to submit to the temptation. His fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin of your back was enough to drive you to insanity, and the intoxication from his kiss made it impossible to resist him. You gave an involuntary grind of your hips against him, your body’s natural response to the feeling of his touch. He tightened his grip on you as his breath caught in his throat, desperate for anything more than what you were already doing. He pulled you down on him, his erection pressing into your heat and sending a wave of arousal through you. You let out a small whimper into his mouth, sending him feral in an instant. His arms travelled up your body, sneaking under your shirt and begging to pull it off of you.

You parted from him, breathless with stars dancing in your eyes. “Jake, we don’t have time.”

“We have plenty of time,” he assured you, refusing to back down. He could see the worry in your eye, but he was certain in his statement. “Don’t you trust me by now, Gold Dust Woman?” The nickname was like pure ecstasy to you, settling deep in your chest and making home like it had always belonged there.

“Of course I do.” You said, regretful for ever doubting him. You lifted your arms, allowing him to discard your shirt with little care. He brought his mouth to your collarbone, starting softly with kisses as he unhooked your bra with expert precision. He let that fall to the ground, too, not concerned with anything other than getting your clothes off. He brought a hand to your breast, the cold air of the room stinging your skin but the warmth of his touch offsetting the harshness. He let his thumb drift over your nipple, sucking marks into your collarbones as if he was trying to cement the reality of his victory. He moved his mouth downwards, focusing on your other nipple with his tongue.

He was desperate to know you again, like the weeks of separation had made you strangers. If he could, he would have spent the entire night with you in your dressing room, but he knew he had to make quick work in order to finish before he was expected on stage. With the vulgar noises rolling off of your tongue, he knew it would not be difficult to do. You were deprived just the same as he was, just as desperate to be touched and just as eager for an orgasm. He let his teeth sink into your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine and a gasp from your lips. You could feel him smile against you, cockiness returning so quickly that you doubted it ever left. He moved his hands to your hips, prompting you to stand so he could take your pants off, too.

You did as he pleased, allowing him the honour of undoing the button and removing the fabric to reveal what he’d been missing so much. You kicked the pants to the side, leaving yourself almost completely exposed and accessible. He sat on the edge of the couch, practically drooling at the thought of having you wrapped around him again. His eyes raked over your body, his jaw hard set as if he was a predator eyeing its prey. Romantic Jake was long gone, and you were more than okay with that; you loved him, and you were joyous over the knowledge that he was yours and you were his, but you were desperate to be fucked. You would never tell him, knowing that it would only fuel his already strong ego, but he was the only one who could do it right. He settled his hand on your hip, drawing you in and bringing his mouth back to your skin. He admired you only for a moment before turning you around. He let his hand trail over your ass in silent admiration before placing a kiss there, too. Instead of pulling away like you expected, he sunk his teeth into the skin with intent to make you quiver under the touch.

He did just that, the sensation causing you to jump and shy away from the unexpected moment. He let out a chuckle as he pulled away, unapologetic for his actions. He let his finer trail under the band of your underwear, drawing the elastic back slightly and snapping it against your skin. You wanted to complain, to chastise him for the teasing, but you were enjoying it too much to care. You were willing to take anything and everything that he was willing to give. He hooked his fingers through the sides and pulled that fabric away from you too, leaving you fully naked and at his disposal. “Do you know how much I missed seeing you like this?” His voice was low, husky and filled with lust. You thought you might be able to get off on the sound alone. He spun you around again so you were facing him, looking down as you anticipated his next move. “Do you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, feeling his fingers ghosting over your thighs. You shivered under the touch, wondering if he was possessed by his own sexual desire, or if it felt so good solely because of how much you loved him.

“Did you miss me, angel?”

“So badly,” you sighed, watching him with hearts dancing in your eyes. He let out a hum of approval, loving the sound of your shameless desperation. He reached down, placing his hand behind your knee, slow with his touch so he wouldn’t catch you off guard. You allowed him to guide your leg so your foot was resting on the cushion beside his thigh. He leaned forward, dusting kisses over the inside of your thigh, lost in the haze of desire that had quickly filled the room. He brought his hand to your cunt, letting his fingers run through you to get a better understanding of how much you wanted him. His jaw clenched at the pool of arousal, nearly insane from the thought of you being his and his alone. He trailed his finger to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles as he watched your face. He was aching to see the look of pleasure, the one in which your eyebrows knotted together and your lips parted, shamelessly crazy for everything he was doing to you. Sometimes, it kept him alive even more than the most basic of things like food and water.

“Did she miss me, too?” He purred, looking up to you with the far-away smile that let you know he was no longer thinking about conversing with you. Even if you hated to admit it, you had grown to love it so deeply that it made your chest ache when you thought of it for too long.

“Why don’t you find out?” You asked, trying to focus on anything other than his rose tinted cheeks and glossy stare. As much as you wanted to, you knew you would never hold any real power in the bedroom with Jake. Or, perhaps you held all of it, and you would never know the difference.

“Talking back to me, angel?” He asked, adding more pressure with his fingers.

“Never, baby.” You breathed the lie so easily he could almost believe it was the truth. Almost being the keyword, but he missed you too much to punish you, and he didn’t have enough time to do so, anyway.

“Come here,” he muttered, making a move to guide your leg over his shoulder. A whine slipped through your lips before he ever put his mouth on you, deriving pleasure from the idea of his tongue alone. His eyes fluttered up to meet your face before he proceeded any further, amazed by the sound and intrigued by the cause. “You want me that bad, baby?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Your face tinted red with embarrassment, but he was having none of it. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I want to hear all of those filthy fucking noises.” The end of his sentence was resembling a growl; his excitement was nearly unbearable and he was unable to hide it from you.

“Please, Jake. I need you so fucking bad.” You pleaded, your fingers already knotted in his hair with anticipation for his next move. His eyes fluttered closed, the words settling in his soul and already beginning to heal the wounds he’d collected from the days events. He couldn’t wait any longer, too pent up after being without you for so long. He guided your hips forward to meet his mouth, his tongue immediately landing on the sensitive bud he’d been teasing just moments before. In lieu of any formalities, he slipped two fingers inside of you, making it a mission to bring you to a climax as quick as possible.

A sharp moan sounded through the room, making home in the foundation of the walls to leave a permanent reminder of what had happened behind the closed door. His fingers stayed at a steady pace, pumping into you in time with the movement of his tongue. You couldn’t help but tug at his hair, needing more than he could possibly ever give you. At least, you thought it would be impossible to give, but Jake always managed to find a way. Your eyes were screwed shut as you bit down on your tongue, hoping to stay as silent as possible so nobody would know what was happening inside the room. His tongue was still laced with unholy energy, You were certain of it. There was no human that could possibly hold so much power within such simple movements. He was sent from the devil to turn you evil, too, and you didn’t care. Even if he was corrupt, or if the touch was woven with hidden intent, you would succumb to the temptation every time. Jake as an entity was much too powerful to resist, and you would be okay with it even if it was death you were suffering at his hands.

Your breathing was labored, chest heaving in hopes of catching up on the air he was stealing directly from your lungs. A thin layer of sweat had already begun to form on your forehead, your body so willing to give in to him with so little persuasion. It was always like that with Jake; it seemed as though he never even had to try to turn you into a mess because you were willing to do it as soon as he walked into a room. A raspy cry tore through you, already feeling an orgasm creeping up on you. It had been so long that you were surprised it even took him this long to get you there. You thought maybe he was savouring the moment, because Jake had to the ability to make you come undone in seconds. No matter what it was, you couldn’t find the strength to complain about it. You were so grateful for anything he was willing to give you, even if he chose to deny you an orgasm for the entire night.

That strength was not within him, though, and he was just as desperate for your climax as you were. He sped his tongue, matching the pace with his fingers, hoping that with a little encouragement you would come undone right then and there. You swore under your breath, holding his head for support in fear that your legs would give out from under you. He hummed against you, showing his own pleasure from your enjoyment. You felt the knot tightening in your belly, the burn almost too intense to ignore. You wished to drag it out a little longer, but you couldn’t hold back. It was partially due to your need for a release, but mostly because you could not deny him of his wish. He asked so little of you that you felt guilty even thinking of refusing him anything did want.

“Fuck, Jake.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your muscles tense and your walls clench around his fingers. He did nothing but continue working at you, keeping a steady pace and continuous movement. Your fingers tightened against the strands of his hair, keeping you grounded as the world started to spin. You couldn’t even manage another word before the orgasm washed over you with a ferocious intensity. He tightened his grip on you, making sure you would not stumble and fall to the ground. You managed his name through the waves of pleasure, singing it like a hymn. Jake was the god you prayed to and the devil you feared. He was the angels watching over you and the sins you committed. He was everything and anything all at once, and although it was confusing, it was euphoric to be in the company of someone so magnificent. You hoped that you would never have to see a lifetime without him.

He slowly pulled away from you, making sure you were steady before removing your leg from his shoulder. With a shaky hand, you loosened your grip on his hair and moved it to his shoulder, supporting yourself with his help. “How was that, angel?” He asked, looking up at you. Your orgasm was glistening on his chin, like a trophy of the vulgarity you two had just engaged in.

“It was so good, baby.” You sighed, already recovered and ready for more. He stood, hands never leaving you as he did so. He wasn’t willing to stop touching you because he had spent the entire day believing he would never get the chance again. He guided you towards the chair placed in front of the vanity mirror. He unbuttoned his pants, only pulling them down to his knees before sitting in the chair. He wasn’t a fan of the time crunch, yet he was grateful for it all the same. It allowed him to give in to the temptation of you without needing any further excuses. He was certain that if he had to wait any longer, he might die from the agony alone.

He spit into his hand, stroking himself for a moment before reaching out for you and guiding you towards him. With your back to him and your legs on either side of his, he lined himself up with your entrance. “Waited so long for this, beautiful. You have no idea how many times I thought about having you like this again.” He murmured, lips just hovering over your ear. You took the intiative and lowered yourself onto him, both of you hissing in pleasure at the feeling after going so long without it.

“Just like this?” You asked, slowly gyrating your hips. He let out a hum of agreement, too lost in the pleasure to verbally express his feelings. “Did you touch yourself while you thought of me, Jacob?” You pressed, tone growing more firm the longer you spoke. His eyes snapped open, shocked that such a question had come from your mouth. “Hmm?” There was a fire in his pupil, like you had ignited a part of him he never knew existed.

“I don’t remember you being such a whore,” he said the word so sweetly, like it was far from insulting. But, being a whore for Jake was nowhere near insulting, and you would proudly admit to it any day of the week.

“Maybe you bring out the worst in me.” You hummed, looking forward and into the mirror, watching his face intently as the pleasure began to take over. “You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“I did,” he groaned, your slow pace pushing him to the brink of insanity. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, desperate for more but willing to take what you were offering just so he could be close to you. “Every fucking night.” His fingers were burning into your hip, brandishing it with marks that would turn purple within minutes. He slipped his hand to the front of you, letting his middle finger find your clit so he could continue his torment. “Did you think of me when you were touching yourself?” He asked, eyes flickering up to your reflection.

“All of the time,” you sighed, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He brought his free hand to your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers and forcing you to look back at the mirror.

“Keep watching, angel. Don’t miss all of the fun.” He said, pulling your earlobe between his teeth. You felt a flutter in your stomach, a warning from your body that it was going to explode if he didn’t slow down. “See how pretty you look with my cock inside of you?” Your hips stuttered, thrown off course by the vulgarity of his statement. “Don’t you think so?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, weak from the tone of voice he was using. It was filled with power, yet coddling you at the same time. It was intoxicating, and you were a complete fool for him, eager to stay drunk off of it forever.

“Fuck you feel good,” he hissed, turning his head inwards to place a kiss to your neck. “Could fuck you all day.”

“We have the rest of our lives.” You whispered, barely realizing the weight of your words until the movement in his hands stuttered. He smiled against you as if you had given him the most wonderful gift in the world.

“We have the rest of our lives,” he agreed, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. He dropped his hand from your face, bringing it to your breast as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You arched your back at the feeling, only allowing him to thrust in even deeper as you came back down on him. You let out a whine, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in a painful type of pleasure. He sped his fingers, knowing that as much as he wished to keep fucking you all night, he would need to leave soon. He felt you clench around him, your legs shaking as you tried to keep your pace steady. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” He muttered, eyes flickering up to watch the reflection. “Do you want to cum for me?”

“G-god yes,” you stuttered, holding on to his arm for extra support. He took in a long breath in attempt to calm himself, feeling dangerously close to the edge, too.

“Okay, baby. Want to watch you while you cum on my cock.” He encouraged, gaze focused on your face in the mirror. “Be a good girl for me.” He whispered, speeding his fingers ever so slightly. That was all you needed to come undone, head spinning with no real thoughts as your body vibrated against his hold. Your eyes were squeezed shut, his name stuck on your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. His jaw was clenched, knowing that he couldn’t hold on any longer, feral from the noises you were making for him. “That’s it,” he hummed, letting out a groan through gritted teeth.

When you started to relax against him, he took his window of opportunity and brought both of his hands to your hips. He pulled you down on him, forceful and loving all at the same time. You let out a yelp, all of your nerves still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You leaned forward, grabbing on to the edge of the table to hold yourself steady while he fucked into you. It only took him a few moments to catch up, his orgasm long overdue and just as intense as your own. He spilled into you, muttering curses as he fucked his own release back into you. After a moment, he tapered his movements to a halt. You both sat there together for a moment, breathless and scared to move in fear of ruining the moment.

Eventually, he carefully stood, moving his hand to catch any potential mess as he pulled out of you. You sighed, disappointed at the loss of contact once he was fully parted from you. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” He said, motioning his head towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathed, following after him to erase any evidence of the sinful activities you had engaged in. Once you finished, you searched your room for the clothes you had arrived in that morning, finding them in a pile on the floor. You slipped on the sweatpants and the t-shirt, a smile permanently stuck on your lips as you turned to face him.

“What are you smiling about?” He said, teasing you while knowing he had the same one on his own face.

“You,”

“Me, too.” He said, taking a step towards you. “I love you so much, y/n.” He mumbled, taking your face between his hands.

“I love you, Jake.” You said, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug. He did the same, holding you just as tight.

“So, uh, maybe I should have asked sooner…” he started, pulling back so he could look down at your face. You watched him, wondering what could possibly be floating around in his brain. “Would you… would you like to be my girlfriend, maybe?” You laughed at his nervous stature, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks to match his own.

“I would love nothing more, Jacob.” You giggled, elated at the childish glee that overwhelmed his expression. He leaned down, placing a small kiss on your lips. Just as he did so, a knock sounded on your door. “Showtime,” You chucked.

“Showtime,” he agreed, hesitant to let you go, almost as if he was scared you wouldn’t be here once he got off stage.

“Go, I’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re done.” You said, urging him to listen to Aaron’s instruction. He nodded, leaning down and placing another short-lived kiss on your lips.

“Okay,” he sighed, moving away and towards the door. Just as he opened it, he looked back at you for a moment. “Thank you for sharing your secrets with me, Gold Dust Woman. They were far better than I ever imagined.” You laughed at his words, feeling the happy tears begging to make another appearance.

“It was a pleasure sharing them with you, Jake. Now go on, you’re going to do great tonight.” You shooed him away.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss. His eyes sparkled with adoration as he reached out, pretending to catch it. He then proceeded to pretend to shove it in his pocket before turning away.

“That’s my good luck charm.” He said, but he was gone before you could reply.

Slowly, you made your way towards the door and out into the hallway. Dylan was sitting on the side stage, looking back at your room with a hopeful expression. You gave her a nod and a thumbs up, barely able to contain your glee. She grinned, ecstatic at the news and already wanting to know all about it. You approached her, standing by her side as you looked out at the stage. She was caught up in Danny, who was sitting eagerly behind his drums, and you were caught up in Jake, who was already strumming away at his guitar. Even Sam, who was across the stage, had a smile on his face, knowing that he would be alright. The world seemed okay, and that was something you were eternally grateful for. You never pictured things turning out so perfectly, but even the most brutal of storms left a rainbow shining brightly in the sky.

You wrapped an arm around Dylan, your chest finally free from the aching pain that had been ravishing it for weeks. As you watched Jake, you knew that there was no doubt in your decision to love him. There was something eternal about the two of you, like when the oceans meet the rivers, and when the river meets the sand, leading you all across the earth until you find water once more. It was similar to how the day turned into dusk, only for the midnight skies to turn blue once again. An endless cycle that was the only permanent comfort in life. You could love Jake in every lifetime and never grow tired of it, and at the very end, you would still feel like you could love him even more than you already had. You would share every secret and untold story, and hope to make every memory and experience with him as beautiful as humanly possible. He was your lesson, the one you had been dreading for so long, but you were so grateful that you opened your mind for long enough to learn it.

He was your forever, and you were his Gold Dust Woman, just like it was always meant to be.

GOLD DUST WOMAN

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

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lieutenantfloyd · 2 years

Text

Family Relations ; B.Bradshaw

Requested?: Yes

Words: 811

Summary: Bob’s sister is the newest bartender at The Hard Deck. Unbeknownst to most of the crew, most of all bob, she and Rooster started going out. What happens when Hangman loudly pieces everything together and Bob overhears?

note: This ended up being a bit different than the original request, but i hope its still ok. This is also my first time writing in 3rd person, so feedback is appreciated!

Read on AO3

Rooster sat at the piano, playing along with the song coming from the jukebox while she dried glasses behind the counter. The Hard Deck didn't open for another 3 hours, but Penny had tasked her with prep and opening, saying it was "time for her to take on more responsibility around here". Stacking the glasses behind the bar, a smile broke out on her face as Bradley got fully into his rendition of Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac.

Swaying her hips, she shook her head and laughed before joining Rooster in belting out the lyrics. Forgetting her tasks she made her way over to her pilot, tossing an arm around his shoulder she dropping into his lap. Not missing a beat, he placed a kiss to her cheek before raising his voice just above the music.

"Sing us home, Darlin'!"

The bar was in full swing. She and Penny were passing out drinks like they did most nights. Every so often she'd drop by the pool table Phoenix, Hangman, and the others were occupying, supplying them with fresh drinks and ignoring the flirty glances from Rooster.

Lingering at the table longer than usual, she chatted casually with the crewmen. As Rooster lined up his shot a comfortable silence fell amongst the table. Hangman, ever the opportunist, saw his opening to conduct a full examination on the bartender his rival was clearly eyeing.

She happily answered his questions, happy to talk about something other than what was happening at base. Slowly his questions got more and more personal. It wasn't until the question about her family came up that she hesitated. Her eyes flashed to Rooster who only shrugged. "It's a pretty boring story really. I tried to follow in my brother's footsteps and join the navy right out of high school, ended up flunking out of basic, so I followed bob out east, and now I'm here." She winced right as the answer passed her lips. Hopefully, no one noticed her little slip-up.

To outside eyes, she was nothing more than the stunning bartender Rooster was head over heels for. By some twist of the genetic lottery, she and bob didn't particularly favor each other in looks or personality. She was the confident, boisterous antithesis of bob's shy, sweet demeanor. The only thing the two shared was a last name and a nearly identical eyeglass prescription, though she opted for contacts over frames. It just so happened that while rushing out of Roosters place this morning, she threw on her glasses saying she'd put her contacts in the bathroom at work. 6 hours and an unusually busy morning later, she still had on the thick plastic frames that brought out her family resemblance.

Jake, being a little too observant, leaned over, and looked intently at her features. He honestly was shocked he'd never noticed before. The jaw with a bit of softness, the crystal blue hue held within almond-shaped eyes, the blonde highlights scattered through her otherwise brunette hair. Her face warmed up under Jake's gaze. Diverting her eyes over to Rooster she noted his wide-eyed expression letting on that he caught it too. Looks like the cat is out of the bag.

Jake pulled back, slamming his beer down on the table before doubling over in laughter. Several awkward moments later, Hangman stood up straight and wiped a dramatic tear from his eye. "You have GOT to be shitting me!" He exclaimed as everyone turned to him in confusion. regaining his composure, he picked his beer back up before addressing the small crowd. "If you guys didn’t know, our boy Rooster is shacking up with this beautiful lady" he declared, winking at her while taking a sip from his bottle "It just so happens that she’s also Bobby boy's sister!" He continued. Snickers were muffled and eyes were diverted as Bradley's expression turned unreadable.

Just then, someone cleared their throat uncomfortably. Turning, she noticed her brother standing very uncomfortably in the corner holding a pool cue.

She opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. Roosters head dropped between his shoulders while Hangman yelled something about a family reunion.

Quiet as ever Bob pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and padded over towards Rooster. The crowd parted, waiting with bated breath for Bob's reaction. As he approached Bradley stood up straight and met his gaze. Peering over his silver-framed lenses, he leaned closer to Rooster. "Whatever you do, just don't break her heart. Ok?" He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd never dream of it." He replied, not breaking eye contact. Bob patted his shoulder gently as he turned to his sister with sad eyes. "I just wish you would have told me..." he mumbled as quiet conversation broke out amongst the group. She opened her mouth to speak but bob just shook his head before disappearing into the crowd.

#b.bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster #bradley bradshaw #top gun x reader #Bradley Bradshaw fic #top gun #top gun maverick

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thatsrightice · 2 months

Text

Here’s unused content from my mota Crosby x Bubbles fic “and maybe if i hold you now”, but can be read alone!!! It’s basically just some fluff of Blakely’s crew after the October 8, 1943 mission to Bremen where Just-a-Snappin’ had gone down and their crew was presumed KIA. They returned late that night much to everyone’s surprise, though several of their crew were injured and one KIA.

Bubbles pulled off the path and into a gap a few buildings down from the interrogation hut. He glanced at his watch as he got out of the jeep. H-minus 0410. Inside, Blakely, Kidd, Douglass, Forkner, and Thornton were seated around a table with Colonel Harding. Standing behind the Colonel were several other members of Group Ops and lurking in the corner of the room with a dark look on his face was Bucky. Crosby walked around the table and sat in the empty chair between Blake and Doug. Bubbles nodded to the other members of Group Ops as he took his place beside them, across the table from Crosby.

“Glad you could finally join us, Lieutenant. Captain,” Harding addressed the pair.

“Sorry, Sir,” Bubbles spoke politely, stepping forward to place a document in front of him. “Lieutenant Crosby needed to be taken to the hospital to get checked out.”

“Lieutenant?” Harding turned to Crosby, who currently had his nose in his briefcase as he pulled out his logs and maps.

“Uh, yes, Sir,” Crosby confirmed. “Just a concussion, Sir.”

“We were just talkin’ ‘bout how you and Forky missed your calling to the Red Cross,” Doug grinned, tipping back in his chair back. His hand was wrapped in a bandage and his face was bruised but he looked to be in good spirits. Crosby was sure he didn’t look any better.

“I just did what Forky told me to,” Crosby protested. He flipped open his log book and shuffled through some maps.

Douglass ignored him, instead launching into his retelling of events. “Picture this, Croz is holding Charlie’s hands and smooth talkin’ him while he’s sitting on McClelland’s chest to keep the kid from climbing back in the ball,” Dougie boasted to all the flyboys around them. “All the while Forky is packing Charlie with our open parachutes and thawing a syringe of morphine in his mouth.”

“Let’s back up a bit now that we have the navigator’s logs,” the Colonel interrupted. “Try your best to remember what happened. Crosby, I hope your logs are as detailed as I hear.” Crosby’s head shot up, face taking on a red tint. He looked briefly from Harding to Bubbles and then back down to the logs in front of him.

“They will be, Sir,” Forky assured, smiling at the navigator. Blake nodded in agreement, resting an arm on the back of Crosby’s chair.

“Of course. Now let’s start from the top…”

☁️☁️☁️🔥✈️🔥☁️☁️🛬💥🌳

“... and then Croz starts talking about lamps…”

“Yeah! What was it he said? Two lamps or one?”

“By land, or by sea,” Forky added. Bubbles snorted, shaking his head as he suppressed a laugh. The others looked at him in confusion.

“Wait, was that supposed to be a joke, Croz?”

“Maybe?” the navigator admitted, not sounding too sure of himself.

“Paul Revere,” Bubbles inputs. There was no response and everyone shrugged. “Ya know...the British are coming?”

A chorus of ‘ooohhhhhhh’s broke out amongst the group.

“Yeah, well these are the Germans and they came at us by air so make that three lamps,” Blake interrupted.

☁️☁️☁️🔥✈️🔥☁️☁️🛬💥🌳

“Up ahead we spotted another Fort with some Messerschmitts smelling around.”

“They were playing with them,” Doug grimaced in disgust.

“No chutes. Unable to ID,” Crosby added.

“Yeah, then they turn to us and the Luftwaffe, they just don’t stop coming but we took care of them.”

“That’s what happens when you have dead-eye gunners,” Crosby smiled at the man next to him. Doug leaned over and bumped shoulders with him.

“How many do you have noted in total?”

Crosby ran a finger down the page as he read the columns of his notes. He flipped to the next page. “I’ve got two for Via; two for Doug; two for Mac; two-no three for Thorny; one for Yevich and one for Nord.”

“That’s what, eleven?”

“Yes, sir. I have the IDs where observed in my logs,” Crosby confirmed.

Someone let out a low whistle.

☁️☁️☁️🔥✈️🔥☁️☁️🛬💥🌳

Crosby kept his head down as he quietly gathered his papers. Bucky’s footsteps echoed thunderously in the near-empty room, punctuated by the slamming of the front door.

“Don’t worry about him, Croz,” Kidd spoke softly, squeezing his shoulder.

“I should have paid closer attention,” Crosby shook his head.

“You did everything you could,” Blakely reassured him, lighting a cigarette. “There was so much solid flak, you could almost slice it like cake.”

“And I’m not sure there was anything you could have said that would give him the closure he’s looking for,” Douglass put a hand on his shoulder and stood. “Now, come on, I’m starving.”

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li-ravings · 9 months

Text

brutim where tim and bruce are the same age!

tim's parents were both from different oil tycoon families, leaving tim alone for everything but the minimum 42 days, or a month and some change. They were never there for his birthday.

and they never would be. his parents passed away in a jet ski incident. coincidentally the same week bruce wayne's parents did. they were neighbors and while alfred got custody easily over bruce- tim's family were bemoaning amongst themselves who would have to take an 14 yo boy that no one wanted.

his maid did. Mrs. Mac was deemed capable and able and as such the Drake family manor remained in tim's possession.

tim drake is a curious teen and no matter what anyone says he does know something strange is going on in the wayne manor. that kid's a total recluse and anytime he's seen out, he winds up in the gotham gazette for overturning another bad person in his staff.

drake ent. was going the same route, however tim was having his spokesperson make the moves.

a few years later, tim drake received an invitation addressed to him from bruce wayne. both seventeen he figured it couldn't hurt to be seen with someone who was making strides in the business world.

a lunch at some upscale place, he arrived five minutes late do to a shoot out on the main road from bristol to the restaurant. the place was empty with just one table set up for him and bruce.

"bruce wayne, thank you for the invitation. there was no need to have the whole place emptied just for me." tim stated coyly - he hated when janet drakes teachings worked.

"this was happenstance truly. My dear Drake, i have a proposal." bruce begins, pulling an envelope out of his suit jacket. "get married to me. i don't have any negative things to hide. i just need to be married to get people off of me."

"nothing to hide except -" tim stops himself. he can't reveal the whole batman thing. not here and especially not on his own ground. he coughs and back tracks. "what if i have something to hide?"

bruce raises an eyebrow and lets out a sly smile. "i assure you, you don't i would know. please view the terms and get back with me."

and really just like that, tim and mrs. mac are (not completely) packing up drake manor and moving into the wayne manor- which looks like a castle if you ask tim.

mrs. mac and alfred become close as one does when they raise children such as tim drake and bruce wayne.

except one night tim stumbles upon the cave. its below the manor and tim is positive this is all the proof he needs thats bruce is batman. he takes as many photos as he can before scurrying back up the stairs.

bruce finds out but they never talk about that day or bruces night job. they won't not until dick grayson is adopted and first spends a few nights as robin.

the scene goes a little something like this;

tim rushing down the stairs as he calls out for dick, his hair mussed and he's in his nighttime clothes. fear has taken over every inch of him.

alfred, ever the calm man, attempts to placate tim, telling him what they are doing. tim of course, the worried m(ilf)om demands the communication device if only to rip into bruce for allowing a barely ten year old boy to go out. he demands dick come home this instance because every ten minutes he's out is a day of grounding.

bruce and dick return, dick pleading and bruce fuming.

/if tim repeats this night with each robin only to get the best fuck of his life well that's just between us. /

i have so many more thoughts on this ! let me know if u want moree

#brutim #tim drake #dc comics #bruce wayne #tbc #oil tycoon tingz #both parents are dead NEOWW

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romanarose · 1 year

Text

Hello Sunshine, Won't You Stay?

Santiago Garcia

Triple Frontier Master List

Moon Knight master list here

All Fanfic Masterlist

Summary: A song fic for the wonderful universe created by @astroboots, Homecoming, to Hello Sunshine by, you guessed it besties, my daddy Bruce Springsteen. If you haven't read Homecoming, I'm literally begging you to read it, but Ima be honest, Homecoming is like. THE STANDARD for Triple Frontier fanfiction. Does not take place any specific time, and OBVIOUSLY ITS JUST MY SILLY FIC SO IT'S NOT OFFICIAL IN TIMELINE but just it's when Santi is trying to figure out his place.

A/N: First of all, are y'all tired of my Bruce Springsteen and Fleetwood Mac references all the time? I will not be stopped. But also. Hi Astroboots I hope this isn't weird ;-; I just tend to hear songs and attached it to things and if I get really inspired I write a song fic, and I've been, predictably, listing to a lot of Springsteen and I just had this song going on repeat and thinking about Santi and Homecoming.

Warnings: Nothing much. Anxiety, commitment issues, mentions of death, mentions of sex.

Enjoy!!!

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

Had enough of heartbreak and pain

I had a little sweet spot for the rain

For the rain and skies of grey

Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

Santiago laid in bed, wide awake as usual. The sun was up, so he was up, old habits die hard, he supposed. He could hear her in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast before she’d be heading out and goddamn if it didn’t smell good… He could get used to this… But he wont. Santiago refuses to. He had started to get used to it, that was the problem. Santiago had begun to form a routine; a dangerous thing for a man like him. He was supposed to be on the go, never staying in one place very long, coming and going as he pleased, french exits and one night stands. Men like Santi couldn’t form routines, can’t afford to. Routines mean regularity, and regularity means familiarity, familiarity means closeness. And closeness… Well that meant he could get hurt. Having something meant that it could be taken away, at any time. And he couldn’t stand to lose her and Frankie. In the morning, Santiago would wake up, take a piss, shower, and complain about something as he stumbled into the kitchen. That’s where she’d push a coffee into his hand with a soft smile and continue singing along to the radio as he leaned over the counter, watching her… Maybe she is talking to him about plans for the day, maybe it’s quiet, and they listen to Bruce Springsteen sing about glory days over the radio waves. After a while, somewhere between the coffee and when Frankie’s bedroom door opening, Santi’s mood had greatly improved, and by the time Frank’s socks are shuffling across the hardwood floors, firm hand patting Santi on the back as he mumbles a greeting on his way over to her, the sun is fully up and the room and the world seem just that might brighter. But see, therein lies the problem, doesn’t it? The world is brighter with them in it. It always had been, of course. Her, Frankie, and the Millers were some of the only things that ever brought him back to the states since his moms death, but everything that had been going on recently between Santiago, her, and Frankie had complicated things. What exactly that was, he wasn’t entirely sure himself. They hadn’t addressed it, they hadn’t talked about it, it simply was, and so far… Santi liked that. Until Frank kissed him.

You know I always liked my walking shoes

But you can get a little too fond of the blues

You walk too far, you walk away

Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

It wasn’t even anything out of the ordinary, they had kissed each others heads before; they were from very affectionate cultures, touching and chaste kisses were the norm, even between men, but this felt different, domestic… Like every morning, Santiago leaned against the counter as he drank his coffee, Billy Joel was singing “She’s Always A Woman to Me” and he couldn’t help but think of her ‘she steals like a thief but she’s always a woman to me…’ Right on time, as Santi’s mood lightened from the ‘grumpy old man’ Will referred to him as and into something more akin to a normal, functioning adult without commitment issues, Frankie emerged from his room. Santi auditorially tracked his steps, as always, as he did anyone within earshot but Frankie was for a particular reason. Bedroom doorway, down the hall, stop to take a piss, back down the hall, around the couch, hip checking the kitchen table yet again, and Santi waited, refusing to admit how eager he was for his friend's familiar touch on his back. It came, as it always did, the large hand tender on Santi’s ever-tense back, but accompanied by something else; a gentle kiss on the side of Santi’s head. Santiago watched her turn around, eyeing him nervously and looking questioningly at Frank. She knew what this would do. Catfish was in way too much of a sleep haze to connect any dots, but she always knew exactly how Santiago’s brain ticked. So, for the last week, Santi had avoided both of them, getting up ungodly early, going for a run until he knew both had left, and then finding any excuse to stay away from them. “Ben’s truck needs work” “Gotta help my sister move” “Gonna be on a zoom meeting for a few hours”. It was all bullshit and everyone knew.

You know I always loved a lonely town

Those empty streets, no one around

You fall in love with lonely, you end up that way

Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

Apparently, she had enough. Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact Santi had refused dinner yet again, and mumbled something about “getting out your hair soon”, and Santiago should’ve know what that would do to her; she had probably started plotting the second he disappeared. Never one to take Santiago’s bullshit, when Santi woke up this morning, he heard the distinct sound of the coffee pot going, and Fleetwood Mac on the radio; she had gotten up before him on purpose. ‘I’ve been ‘fraid of changin’ cause I built my life around you…’ he heard her sing softly along. Had she and Frank done that? The spare bedroom, the way she kept his things, the way Fish always asked him to stay, as if it was a favor to him, not an inconvenience… that was the problem. The kiss on the side of his head, the light way it had fluttered against his hairline, how Frankie hadn’t even looked at him, like it was completely normal. That wasn’t the worst part. The part that got him, the part that made Santiago go into fight or flight, made every nerve stand up on edge was that, yeah, it felt normal. It felt right. And he wanted it again. But Santi couldn’t intrude on their marriage anymore than he already had, it wasn’t plausible, it wasn’t possible. What would the guys think? How would he explain this to his sisters? Since when was he gay? He’d have to come out and god, he’d have to admit that part of himself to his own reflection first. It was all to much. So he was hiding. Hiding in his bed, tracking every sound in the house, hoping to god she’d leave. It was saturday, who knew what the schedule looked like, weekends always depended, and since he had missed any time with her or Frank this week, it was all up in the air. She did this on purpose. She knew she had to corner him, force him to make a choice, one way or another, and she knew what he wanted. She’d seen it in his eyes every time he watched her, everytime she watched him watch Frank leave the room, and that time they spent together, as he watched Frankie pound into her and he couldn’t decide which one of the pair of them he wanted to be more…

You know I always liked that empty road

No place to be and miles to go

But miles to go is miles away

Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

But the fact is he wanted to be both. He wanted to touch her, feel her, fuck her, but he also wanted to taste Frankie; his mouth, his cock, every inch of skin on the man. Why did the idea scare him so much? Was it the fact he’d be entering into a relationship with two people? Would it be admitting he was bisexual? Or was it the fact he’d be opening himself up to more than just friendship. He had friends, close friends he loved dearly, he had vulnerabilities when it came to them, seeing Will shot made him lose focus and watching Tom die certainly had an affect on him that no one dared bring up, but there was also the death of his mom, a life in the military and a litany of other issues in that brain of his that caused him to push anyway people that got too close. How was he supposed to bury another friend? None the less someone he loved? And death wasn’t the only problem, what if they got tired of him? And that’s not a what if, that was a when. She said he had a home here, that this place would always be his… but no one ever wanted him around that long. Santiago was a temporary person, a rolling stone, people could take him in small doses, but this little morning routine he had come to love so much would only end in disaster. One day she would be tired of making coffee for him and yell at him to make his own, one day Santi would say something hurtful as he always did when trying to push people away, one day Frankie would be over Santi staring at his wife’s ass… But what if they didn’t? The sound of singing and the smell of food was growing tempting… What if they really, genuinely wanted him to have him long term in their life? And what if Santi could push back all his instincts to run away and allow himself a home… because this feels like home, this feels like forever… What if he just… tried? It could hurt, it could hurt real fucking bad… but god, the glimpse of domesticity and the little slice of this american life he had seen so far, he didn’t want to lose. Was it worth the risk? Maybe he didn’t have to make a commitment, not forever, not right now… but he could make a choice for right now. Frankie was in the kitchen now, no doubt giving her a kiss on the cheek, and he could keep the ghost of his lips on his skin. He could allow them in, allow himself to love and be loved in return by two people who already know the darkest sides of him and still chose, no, fought to keep him in their lives… plus, he really had to pee…

And miles to go is miles away

Hello sunshine, won't you stay?

Hello sunshine…

Santiago put on his socks, hating the feeling of cold foot on his feet and with a deep breath, he opened his bedroom door, the sound of her voice singing Anerican Girl became joyfully louder as the wooden barrier was lifted. He allowed the music, the instruments and her voice and Frankie’s in tandem with Tom Petty to surround him, fully and completely surrendered as it penetrated through him and Santi thought ‘I can get used to this...’ After the bathroom and his usual shower, he dressed and nervously walked into the kitchen, where he found her cooking, and Frank in Santi’s usual position; leaning over the counter, staring at her ass. ‘She was an American girl; raised on promises…’ Santi knew Frankie wouldn’t do what he had done before, not at the risk of scaring Santi off again, so Santiago slide up beside his friend “buenos dias, hermano”, patted his back and, shakily and hesitantly, kissed Frank’s temple, and whispered, loud enough that he knew she heard too, but quiet enough he could pretend he only said it to himself. “Te echaba de menos”

She turned around, his favorite mug in hand and a knowing smile on her face. “Hello, sunshine” She extended the mug to him, a gesture Santi hesitated on taking, knowing the weight of what it meant. “You staying for coffee?”

He looked at her kind eyes, looked at Frank’s softly waiting face, and back to the coffee, taking it in his hand.

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

ANYWAY I HOPE YA'LL LIKED THIS I HOPE IT WASN'T TERRIBLE AND I HOPE IT WASN'T CRINGE TO WRITE A FIC FOR A FIC

I've had a v v v v bad day with so much anxiety (I aint had an anxiety attack in like a year, but two this week thanks to bad friends) andalthough it's one am and my first day of class is literally tomorrow, writing this was the only thing that managed to get me to stop shaking and think about something ELSE

Ima take a moment to plug Awakening Series Masterlist, if you're into poly/gay/group sex, shit like that, might enjoy it! It's got 3 parts right now all leading up to group sex, but the next few chapters will be a few different things!

Also, if you like how I write Santi, check out my PRIDE AND JOY! My recently completed series Leather and Lace. Check all warnings bc it's pretty intense in content but I've been told it was handled well, and I'm very happy with how it ended, and opening up the gate for Frankie's story next <3

And to Astroboots, I gotta say again, I love homecoming (and red flags!!!) and I wanna say a huuuggee THANK YOU!!! For writing it!!! it makes me so happy and so horny at the same time.

tagging people who I know read homecoming/reblogged the first story or something, instead of my usual whores, sorry if you literally dont care, you can ignore this lol

my loves, @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @axshadows @softlyspector

#homecoming #santiago garcia #frankie morales #francisco morales #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #Santiago garcia fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #oscar isaac #pedro pascal

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crimeronan · 1 year

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as an Irish person reading trc/tdt what do you think of Maggies characterisation of the Lynch family??

oh i LOVE this question. anon so kindly giving me permission to infodump....

the short answer is: i love it?? i love it. i have varying quibbles about how niall's "redemption arc" is done and stuff like that, but purely on the irish side of things, i love it

further necessary context: i'm irish-american a few generations removed from ireland (who happens to have a hyperfixation on irish myth), my closest familial connections in the country are some distant cousins that my great-aunt traced recently. direct relations to her, but given that she is like 96, much less direct to me. so my perspective is very different from that of an irish person raised n living in ireland, & most of what i love most about the lynch family is directly related to diaspora and intergenerational trauma stuff

i said i was gonna infodump and then couldn't decide where to start. waow. okay so i've talked before about most of the worldbuilding in the dreamer trilogy being based in irish myth - ronan being from the otherworld (eldritch god, fairy, same thing), fintan mac bochra and the hawk of achill, not giving your true name/address to people at the fairy market, etc. these stories are woven through the whole fabric of the series

then the concept of irish storytelling itself is Also woven through the whole series, on both a meta and in-canon level

traditional irish storytellers will take a myth and make it their own, you can trace the origins of different tales back dozens or hundreds of years. the goal isn't to tell the story the way it's been told in generations past, but instead to tell it how You'd tell it. so there are these books repurposing irish myth in this unique way, but also these characters who are all so in love with storytelling in their own ways

you can see it in how niall and aurora tell their stories, how niall's always have a focus on action and tragedy and grisly death while aurora's are more focused on the love and the feelings and the soft fade-out of a tragic hero

you can see it in how declan has inherited niall's propensity for storytelling (the twitter confirmation of his middle name being "tadhg" still makes me Big Eyes Emoji) and also inherited niall's propensity for reckless idiocy, Geis Of Bullshit indeed.

then there's the way that declan and ronan both find themselves playing out different parts of niall's worst traits, how intergenerational trauma seems inescapable, how every damn person in the family is So Mentally Ill. this isn't necessarily the case for every irish-american family but it sure is for kitkat's. hoo boy we love giving chronic pain, psychosis, and inescapable depression to our offspring

that greywaren quote about "diaspora always idealizes the homeland" has stuck with me for a while because there's this kind of muted longing in the books' depiction of ireland itself, but also in the books' depiction of the barns, a place that niall and mór Made ronan's homeland. and more than that i see it in declan's views on his parents themselves, how he's able to reconcile with mór Because she's so distant and unfathomable and never personally fucked him up, so it's easier to forgive and forget everything she's done... how niall is dead and gone and can no longer change his behavior or grow or learn or fuck declan up any worse, so it's easier to accept his love as uncomplicated and good. child idealizing his distant homeland because that's what he's Supposed to have

truly don't know if that was the authorial intention but. it's the only way declan's arc makes any sense to me. that one line does a shitload of heavy lifting

and on a less theme-heavy note i love little details like. the brothers being so in touch with irish culture as second-gen immigrant kids, love that they play the uilleann pipes and attend the fleadh, love that ronan can do an irish accent on command, love that declan keeps photos of ireland in his bedroom but they still don't quite reflect his True Self like his attic does, love that mór is a gaelgeoir (irish speaker), there are other details i'm forgetting now

this post is ungodly long so i'll leave it here. these r my thoughts. it's good shit o/

#replies #trc #cdth #greywaren #greywaren spoilers #greywaren meta #cdth meta #kitkat learns gaeilge #<-only tangentially related but.

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arthyritis · 5 months

Text

A Wonderful World (Welcome Home/Puppet Friends AU) - Chapter Six

Pip stepped outside of his house, showcasing a calm, warm demeanour that was so much acting that it was all he could focus on as he traversed the path around the neighbourhood. So focused that he didn't even notice the pink puppet with blonde hair who jumped in his way, causing both of them to topple over into a pile of limbs on the grass. His head hit the ground lightly.

Immediately, Pip's hands felt to make sure his hearing aids were still attached and not broken, and when that was cleared, he looked to see who he'd run into.

She was already sitting up, eyes spinning dizzily as she held her head with a smile. "Woah, that was quite a tumble we took!" Her eyes stopped spinning and she looked at Pip. "Oh, hey, you're the new neighbour! Pleased to meet you." She held her hand out. "Name's Julie!"

He grabbed her hand back. "Pip. Or Puppet," he introduced, considering she'd addressed him as 'new neighbour' and not by name. It seemed not everyone had gotten the memo, still. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy!" she smiled wide, two little horns twitching atop her head. She stood, still grasping his hand and pulled him up. "Are you?"

"I'm fine. Just... really clumsy, apparently." A bashful blush took up his face as she laughed.

"Aren't we all!"

Pip took its sweet time separating their hands, and the little monster puppet seemed to have no problem with that, continuing to smile at it while it stared at their intertwined hands. She looked down and her eyes lit up as she pulled away. "Oh! I'm sorry, I got caught up, did you have somewhere to be right now?"

"No. Nowhere. I was just going to wander the neighbourhood until I found something to do." Secretly, it hoped Julie wasn't busy right now so that the puppet, who was slightly taller than Wally, could play with it.

"You can play with me!"

It was slightly ironic that Wally had just been talking about this puppet and her family this morning and now Pip had the opportunity to hang out with her. Julie ran off to grab something and came back with a jump rope and chalk. "I have lots of fun little games I play, you've probably never played them since I made them up, so I'll tell you the rules! If you want to play with me, that is."

Pip realised it'd become quiet and forced itself to talk. "Yeah, absolutely!" It smiled.

"Great!" Julie smiled back. "So, this one's called--"

Pip and Julie played for quite a while, and even just drew on the ground some. Little colourful chalk flowers decorated the path and sidewalk directly in front of her pretty little house. Pip forced itself to focus on the games and drawings over the intrusive thoughts trying to invade its mind from the conversation this morning, and it worked for some time until Julie reminded it that they should probably eat lunch.

They headed inside her house together and Pip admired the interior. A lot of the things were decorated with drawings, and it reminded Pip of the inside of his own house--oh, so Julie must have been the one to do all of the pretty decorating. It would have to remember to thank her.

"Let's see... I've just stocked up on some of my favourite foods, so what would you like? We can make candy pizza, candy sushi, candy burgers--ooh, or macaroni and cheese!"

Pip laughed a little. "I'll go with macaroni and cheese."

"Coming right up!" Julie replied, raiding her cupboards for ingredients. "It shouldn't take too long. You can help me if you'd like! We can even invite Eddie over; mac and cheese is his favourite, too. Frank's not so much, but they're busy today, anyway. Butterfly catching, it's an all-day thing, apparently."

She rolled her eyes playfully, and Pip vaguely remembered being told that she and Frank were good friends.

"Their butterfly collection is really cool," it said gently, button eyes wide. "They mentioned Eddie as well. I haven't met him, but he's the mailman, right?"

"The mailman and Frank's husband, yes." Pip's eyes widened further. "They've been married a very long time, as long as I've lived here, anyway, and that's been a while! I haven't seen any of my siblings in almost as long, too."

Suddenly, Julie's happy demeanour which had been all she'd portrayed so far was ruined, replaced by melancholy. It didn't really know what to say, deciding to wait the mood out, if possible. In the time they'd chatted, Julie had gotten out everything they needed to make the macaroni and cheese and also put a pot of water on the stove to boil, which it had, quickly.

As Pip poured some noodles into the boiling, popping water, it simply said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

And then Julie was back to her happy, hyper self as she stirred the noodles to make sure they wouldn't stick to the bottom of the pot. "Oh, that's okay. I don't even think about it that much, honestly! It just hits randomly, you know?"

"Not really," Pip admitted, a bit startled but trying not to show it. "I haven't stopped thinking about my family since I've gotten here..."

Julie shrugged. "You get used to it."

Pip really didn't like the sound of that.

The pink puppet had left to call Eddie while the macaroni was in the oven, leaving Pip alone with his thoughts as the breadcrumb and cheese topping cooked over. It was hard to imagine his friends back home were doing anything other than looking for him everywhere. Phoebe was out of school for the summer, but only for a couple more weeks. If time was passing the same there as it was here, he'd already been gone for three days, and he was sure no one was handling that well.

Especially considering how he'd left. No one had noticed his parting as they were all engrossed in that stupid cartoon, the same one he was currently living inside of. He wondered, vaguely, if he would appear on any of the tapes they had there, but that was just a ridiculous thought that was bound to send him spiralling. He didn't travel back in time, he couldn't have, could he?

A knock on the door shattered his train of thought head-on and he stood to open it up. An orange puppet wearing a uniform of sorts stood in front of him, about the same height as Frank. He tipped his blue hat with a wide grin, "Howdy, Pip! Oh, boy, that mac and cheese sure smells good!"

He smelled the air and gravitated toward it, making Pip smile as Julie came down the stairs and ran right past him. "Hiya, Eddie! Hand me those oven mitts, would ya?"

As the two who already knew each other fixed up lunch, Pip sat at the table, alone. But this time its thoughts didn't go so wild. It simply watched as Julie and Eddie worked together, wondering if it could ever get to that point with the neighbours. All of his own friends were forgotten for just a moment.

Phoebe sat at the table, picking at her food. She wasn't really hungry, but she was terribly tired, having stayed up most of the night designing posters to put around her block and more. The puppets, even though they slept, looked just as sluggish as she felt, and they all felt bad, one not looking at the other.

The human girl's parents were slowly realising something was very wrong, but their daughter who usually opened up to them about anything and everything, was suddenly shut off. They had, however, seen the posters when they'd gone in to wake her up, so they could piece it together. They didn't speak on it. The little magical beings in their house were plenty capable of taking care of themselves, it was their daughter that was worrying them. Then again, these were her best friends sitting on the edges of the table looking so glum, with a space left for the last.

When Phoebe finally finished her cold porridge and left the table, her parents exchanged knowing looks. It had been only a day, but they needed to do something about all of this. They needed to get her happy again.

They gathered the posters their daughter had made and got Phoebe and her twin baby brothers ready to go outside, the tots walking next to them and enjoying the warm weather, while Phoebe rolled around, the remaining puppets in a backpack situated on her lap. Her dog, Scout, led the way slightly on a lead.

She stapled the posters to anything she could, low because of her wheelchair, but hopefully, they would catch the eyes of children, at least. If Pip had been found by a child, surely they'd do the right thing and return it.

Sweetie sighed, sitting on the bottom of the backpack and just letting the bumps of the wheelchair keep her grounded. She hadn't yet told anyone about the waste paper bin, too caught up in their sulking.

"Yay?" she called, watching the chipmunk flop down next to her dramatically with their ever-permanent smile. Their eyes glistened sadly and it made her feel worse as she continued, "I feel like this is our fault."

"Maybe," Yay agreed all too quickly, and Sweetie frowned. "But, he wouldn't hold it against us, and he especially wouldn't have run away because of it."

That eased the fox's worries just a little bit, but not enough to stop her arms clenching around her dress and legs. "Well, no, maybe not--"

"I don't think this is the right move, either, Sweetie," Yay-Yay continued. "But we looked everywhere at home, didn't we?" they asked, and there was Sweetie's guilt building, building, building.

"Maybe not everywhere..." she whispered, so quietly that if Pip was here right now, his hearing aids wouldn't have picked it up. But Yay's ears worked fine, and they cocked their head in questioning. Sweetie sighed. "I think he fell into the waste paper basket. It was all messed up when I looked last night."

Yay's ears twitched, what would be their eyebrows going up in wonder. "That's odd. He wasn't in there when Phoebe looked."

"No, he must have gotten out." Yay nodded, but they could feel the apprehension in her tone.

"But...?"

Sweetie's chest rose and she looked up at the sky, Phoebe's braids swinging in and out of her view. "But what if he somehow didn't? Like those stories the kids used to tell. Magical portals."

Yay's eyes darted away. "I can't say I hadn't thought of that, too. It's a long shot, though."

"We'll figure it out, though, right?" Sweetie spoke softly still.

"Right."

The backpack was filled with nothing but silence for the rest of the ride around the neighbourhood.

#welcome home fanfic #Puppet Friends #grey does writing

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wfanfic56 · 1 year

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can you do a part 2 to the macmilan family i really love that firts part if its ok

Finally having time to answer you!! Here's the request

Family Macmillan | Price x Reader

Chapter 2

"Papa, I'm fine. It's quite busy but other doctors are covering me sometimes, so I get few days off. So don't worry about me. What about you? How's situation there?" I talked with my father over facetime after long period of not calling him

"Don't worry about that, we are fine." he stayed silent some moments "So I heard you met my old friend there. How's going between you two?"

"Who? Captain Price? He's just a Captain and an old family friend, nothing special. How did you know that he was in base with me?"

"Did you really forget that I can get an information on anything and anyone?"

"I never doubt in that." both of us chuckled on our inside joke "He was a little bit surprised that I am in the military, he didn't expect me to see me, but everything is fine. He had few scars and that's all."

"And a lot of questions that's for sure Mac." Price said from the doorway, standing in my room. Everything would be okay, if I didn't lock the door before.

"How did you–" I said in shocked tone

"You'll learn it through years of service, that's what I taught him first." paps commented "Price you have a new mission son, teach her everything you know, I want her to be safe." -"Yes, sir." and with that, he finished our call. Still in shock I watched the Captain sitting down on the chair in front of me, and with calm voice he started to address to me.

"Well, let's talk about you Y/N, shall we?" slowly nodding, I gave him permission to go on, while I was really paying attention on what he is about to say "I really have a huge respect towards you, I saw your profile and a lot of your mission. You are really successful, but I need to know will you handle to be our doc in 141?" It caught me off guard that's for sure.

"I could try my best, Captain, but I need some time and help from your side to adjust to new people." –"And to your new skills. You won't be just a doc, you would be a soldier too. You'll learn how to shoot, carry a gun and a lot more. Will you handle that?"

"Yes, sir." And with my answer we stood up from chairs and did a handshake, but he added one more thing to that — a kiss to the cheek — that left me wondered what the hell just happened.

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charmac · 10 months

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speaking of things that were brought up in the show once and then never spoken of again, im honestly astounded that the revelation that luther was sending letters to mac and dennis was destroying them has seemingly had no impact on the characters beyond tggth. ik the fans probably discussed it more when the episode came out (which i wasnt there for) but its such a huge reveal like…mac who is ignored by his father 99% of the time was actually receiving letters from him and both of his best friends knew and didnt say anything. id love to see that revisited.

Tbh I think that one’s definitely a dead and buried event as spoken between Mac and Dennis, but I definitely wouldn’t say it’s had no further impact on the characters.

Mac’s internal struggle with his dad loving him certainly continued, and from what I see, it was pretty heavily built off the basis of Dennis destroying the letters:

Mac’s ‘PTSD’ nightmares are between him killing his father, just as he hopes he’ll say he loves him, and Dennis making a move on him, finally returning physical affection. I’d say that’s a good idea of how Mac processed/was processing what Dennis did. Mac’s mind seemed to be rationalising that he would kill his father by his own hands if he had access to him. Dennis physically destroyed the possibility, ‘proving he loved Mac’ (and further in Mac’s mind, Luther would kill Mac, given the opportunity).

But then, Mac does ‘kill’ [his relationship with] his father by his own hands when he comes out to him. His father doesn’t want Mac’s true self, and won’t listen. So when Mac does have a way to express himself in return, it hurts him. (Again, further affirming himself that Dennis cut off a potential relationship to protect him).

Now what’s really interesting is that they chose to go with letters again, in connection with Mac’s father, they further cast GSC to play his Uncle, made him gay, and weaved the idea of Mac having kids into the play. Isn’t that just all, a lot to chew on…

Honestly it’s hard for me to properly space it out, so I hope the following makes sense (and I am responding to this while on NYC transit, but what better place to dump my brain out):

I think the letters from Luther to Mac being destroyed by Dennis was a solid base they continue to build around through now. I mean, it’s certainly no coincidence that they decided on letters to be his family legacy, letters his mother destroyed before Mac could read. And then it can’t be a coincidence that the last time Mac spoke to his father, the first time he spoke to him since he found out about his letters, he expressed he wanted Mac to have children, and now Mac is telling his Uncle who looks like his father that he wants these new (old) letters for his children (alongside the theme of ignoring a shared sexuality). That’s not a coincidence, I really hope it’s not.

So I think it remains unsaid between the characters for a few reasons. 1. The confessions from TGGTH went down with the ship for all of them (stuff it down with some brown, bury it under the booth, kick it under the kegs). 2. Mac sees it as a twisted act of love from Dennis, so why teeter with that? 3. It’s a base plot device they continue to build off of for now that, maybe, eventually they’ll address, if we ever work back around to another Mac finale (We can see a theme of things being unburied… Or they’ll just let the insane analysts like me draw dots and connect lines and spout my shit through the rest of time.)

Though those are just my thoughts, certainly RCG will have to talk about it when they get to Seasons 11-13 on the Podcast, so that’s something to look forward to in 2.5-3 years!

#iasip #mac mcdonald #mac meta #ask #frank shoots every member of the gang #the gang goes to hell #mac finds his pride

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

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AYW8:

Let these boys treat R to a fancy dining experience at McDonalds! 🥹

Ugh the awkwardness of seeing him for the first time since the argument has ME anxious. 😂😭

‘“The hearts…one’s for Ryan, one’s for Luke, and one’s for, um, me,” Eddie explains bashfully as he slips his hands into his pockets.’ *okay okay okay*

“She would love that.” She smiles at him, then whispers in your ear, “the best way to get over Eddie is to get under someone else.”

She sticks out her hand to the mystery man and introduces both herself and you. I don’t want to get over Eddie,“ LILY I’M GONNA NEED YOU TO TAKE FIVE AND STEP OUT FOR A MINUTE.

Wayne Munson <- Y’ALL ALREADY KNOW! My mans Mac daddy Wayne at it again coming in clutch!

Our man coming to our rescue. 🥹

“It’s so cute that the boys wanna buy me MiDonal’s! They’re the sweetest boys ever. Where are we goin’? Oh, hey! You’re movin’ into your new aparment soon. Do you still wan’ me to—hey look, a dog!—wan’ me to go shopping for the stuff that you need? Eddie? Are you still mad at me? I hope not. I don’t like when we fight. I never wanna fight witchu. I love you! I never loved no one before, ya know. Just you! I was only bein’ such a pain in the butt because I wanna be by your side. Like partners. Wanna help you and have fun with you and do all the things with you. I hope you wanna be that with me too! Like Bonnie and Clyde! But no stealing or dying. Do you, hey, hey Eddie, do you remember that time a long time ago you said you liked that blue shirt I wore? Ya know, the one with the buttons and sleeves? Well, now it’s my favorite—” <- this is me talking to my husband anytime about anything. 😂

‘What you said tonight about Eddie not loving you definitely has to be addressed tomorrow—whether you were drunk or not when you said it, he doesn’t care.’

“Can I beat her?” 👏🏼

With every thrust of Eddie’s hips, he lists another thing he loves about you.

UGH I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!! I am glad they came to their senses and finally worked it out 😂❤️

@corroded-hellfire @munson-blurbs ❤️

B, I have missed your reviews!! Honestly, these always make my day

#answer #AYW

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storiesofsvu · 2 years

Text

Her Everything Ch 15

“Hey!” You called through the apartment as you swung the door shut behind you, addressing Lucy, “Thank you so much for covering! You have no idea how much I appreciate it, work got insanely hectic.”

“I know how it is. Don’t worry about it.” She waved off your apology, handing Catalina her sippy cup back. The toddler gave you the briefest of hello’s before bounding back to the couch with her Paw Patrol.

“How was she?”

“Oh she was fine, always is. I gave her an Uncrustable when I got her but nothing substantial, she didn’t seem too hungry.”

“Thanks.” You smiled warmly as you locked your gun in the well out of reach safe on top of the fridge.

“But…you should know…she’s been asking questions…” she slipped a piece of construction paper out of Cat’s backpack, “They were drawing family trees in pre-k, Cat had a whirlwhind of questions for me.”

“Fuck..” you muttered softly, “What did you say?”

“I said she’d have to ask you.”

“Thank you.” You gazed into the living room, the tuft of her ponytail just visible over the couch, “I’ll talk to her. Rafael’s honestly been doing incredible with her, finally smartened up. I was gonna start to breach the subject soon anyways.” You turned back to Lucy, “now get outta here, I’m sure you have more fun places to be.”

“Thanks.” She gave you a soft smile, waving by to Cat before leaving the apartment.

You ran a hand over your face, sighing heavily. You knew this day would come, and you knew it was going to come sooner rather than later, but you weren’t prepared for what you knew would be an onslaught of follow up questions. Where had he been? Why did he leave? Why aren’t the two of you together? Is he moving in? Are you getting married? Can I have a baby sister? You couldn’t exactly explain to a near four year old that her Dad unplugged a baby, was tried for murder and then left the state with no contact info only to show up out of the blue four years later.

Filling a pot with water you pulled a box of Kraft Dinner out of the cupboard, your day had been long and your brain was about to get another workout, at least supper could be on the easy train tonight. When it was ready you mixed everything together, tossing a couple of cucumber slices on the side of Cat’s plate and collected her into her booster seat. She babbled on for a little bit as she started to eat, mainly about Paw Patrol, something about a few friends at school. She paused to munch on a cucumber, looking up at you with those gorgeous green eyes full of wonder.

“Catalina…how would you feel about meeting your Papi?” She looked over at you with a confused pout on her lips.

“But..Rafa’s Papi.”

What.

Were you going to have to really tear another strip off Rafael already? When had he even been alone with her to have the chance to mention anything?

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Did Abuelita tell you that?”

“No.” She chomped away on the cucumber slice before swallowing it, going in for another forkful of pasta. “Rafa calls Abi Mami. If Abi is his Mami then he’s my Papi, right?” You stared at her in disbelief,

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good?” She simply giggled a mouth of Mac and cheese at you in response. “But yes Cata, you are right. Rafael is your Papi.”

“Do I still call him Rafa?”

“Baby you can call him whatever you’d like as long as he’s okay with it.”

“Okay.”

“How would you feel about spending some more time with Papi? Maybe go hangout at his house sometimes? Have a couple sleepovers a month?”

“Where would I sleep?”

“You’d have your own room.”

“You come too?”

“No baby, just some daddy daughter time. That sound like fun?” She thought on it for a hot second, trying to finish chewing before she replied.

“Yes!”

“Okay.” You ruffled her hair softly, turning back to your own meal. Surprisingly she didn’t have many follow up questions, you told her that Rafael hadn’t known about her, and that you both loved her very much, and that was all that mattered.

It didn’t take long to get her settled in bed, the day of school and running around with the sitter tiring her out pretty quick. Making sure the nightlight was on, you left the door open a crack, heading back to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. Picking up your phone you scrolled through your texts until you found Rafael’s name, clicking the call button.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Rafael’s voice came through the receiver, a hint of concern evident. You’d avoiding calling, usually opting to text, it was harder for him to argue that way.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Uhm…you wanna meet us in Central tomorrow, at that jungle gym she’s so obsessed with?”

“Yes. Absolutely. What time?” His heart began to race, you hadn’t made any impromptu hangout plans before, especially in the middle of the week.

“Two?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“K.” You sighed lightly, humming over a sip of wine, “You should know you managed to pass along that Ivy League brain of yours.” He laughed lightly, smiling at the friendliness evident in your voice.

“What’d’you mean?”

“She figured it out all on her own…Guess they were talking about family trees at school, she put together the pieces. Kids are way more intuitive than you’d think, turns out we made a pretty smart one.” Rafael couldn’t help but smile at your words, knowing that it seemed like things were turning a page, and this time a positive one.

“So she knows who I am?”

“Yup. I figured it’d be nice for you two to have a first actual hangout…and that we could talk some things over?”

“Of course!”

“K, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork I need to get through.”

“Okay. G’night.”

“Night.”

Rafael felt a sense of blooming in his chest as he hung up the phone. Everything had kind of been a giant mess, a permanent ball of anxiety living in his chest since he’d returned to the city. Truthfully, he deserved it, and he knew it, but it was a complete relief knowing that things finally seemed to be coming up positively. He’d fucked up enough in the past, now was the time to rise from the ashes and shine, proving to you that he was more than worthy of being an incredible father.

You got to the playground first, Catalina too excited to want to wait any longer after lunch. There were a few other Mother’s you knew from school around, the kids all playing together. Though you dodged their bullshit by saying you had some work to catch up with on your phone.

“You ever put that thing down?” Rafael joked as he approached, an extra coffee in his hand for you.

“Thanks.” Accepting the coffee you pocketed your phone, “Trying to reason with Liv. You know how it is.”

“I most certainly do.” He took a sip of the beverage, happy to be breaching solo civil conversations with you, “She trying to wrangle you back in today?”

“No.” Sighing you leant back against the park bench, “Took a hit yesterday and she benched me.”

“What, you punch the perp back and she’s making you go to anger management first?” You let out a scoff of a laugh,

“The shrink. The hit was a bullet…” Rafael uprighted himself immediately, worry in his eyes as he glanced you over, a quick squeeze to your free hand.

“Jesus! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You waved him off, “I had my vest on, it’s just a bruise.”

“Isn’t your partner supposed to have your back?” This brought another laugh out of you.

“Rafael…you’ve seen the squad, we’re spread pretty fucking thin. I’m the switch right now, no official partner. We took down a sting, just didn’t have all of our bases covered. It happens.” You shrugged it off. Rafael was beginning to counter when Catalina came running up, suddenly realizing he was there

“Rafa!” She clambered right into his lap, giving him the best of a hug she could, you helped him out a big, taking his coffee from him, “can I call you Papi? Or Daddy?” He shot a glance over to you, taking in the small smile on your lips and brief nod you gave him before answering.

“Of course sweetheart.”

“Yay!” She tossed her arms around his neck, snuggling against him, “Hi Daddy.” The words were muffled by his jacket, but they warmed him down to his absolute core.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he gave her a soft squeeze, lips meeting the top of her hair gently. When he turned to you, you could see the faintest shimmer of tears in his eyes, his lips mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ over Catalina’s head. He felt as if his heart could explode, the first actual, real hug with his daughter, it was something if you had asked him about years ago he would’ve laughed. The thought of having kids, having a family, it seemed so far fetched, that he could ever love someone as much as he loved that little girl, and they’d only just met. When Catalina pulled away, she started to babble on about a few things before you gained her attention,

“Baby, how about you go play with Alyssa a little longer? Momma’s got a few things she needs to talk to Raf about. We can get ice cream after.” You threw in the bonus treat as extra motivation, knowing she’d accept it.

“Okay.” She climbed down from the bench, running back over into the sand.

“So what’s the next step?” Rafael cautiously asked, taking his coffee back from you as he spoke.

“If you wanna do this, if you really want to do this, you need to really be her Dad. Not just someone who pops up every so often for play dates or Sunday dinners.”

“That’s what I want. Trust me. I’m in it for the long haul, just tell me what you need from me.”

“We’ll start out easy. You’ve got to kid proof your apartment, and if she’s going to be spending time there, staying overnight or weekends, she needs her own space. She needs a room, a bed, toys, books, the whole works of things that are hers. She needs to feel like she belongs in your space, that she’s welcome, not just a house guest.”

“Of course, I’ll get started on that right away.”

“She wants to spend more time with you, including overnights and I’m more than okay with that. We can hash out the rest of the details later.”

“I’m all ears whenever you’re ready. And y/n…thank you..”

You could see the unspoken words written in his eyes, how incredibly relieved he was that you were willing to take these steps, that there wasn’t a big elephant in the room waiting to be addressed anymore. That he was brave enough to take the step into actually being a father, not just watching from the sidelines anymore.

As you promised, the three of you stopped for ice cream on the way home, Catalina talking Rafael’s ear off even more than normal. Making sure she gave him an extra long hug when you parted ways, skipping her way back to your apartment hand in yours.

As Rafael promised he set up his second bedroom into a room fit for a princess. Lucia was more than willing to help, knowing he’d still be a little clueless about things, especially little things a non parent might miss. You sent over a few boxes of Cat’s stuff that she didn’t use on the daily basis, some extra clothes and the like, letting Rafael get everything settled before you did a brief walk through with him. He knew his Mom had already gone over everything, but he felt like letting you be the final seal of approval was the right thing to do.

When Friday rolled around, you had one very excited toddler jumping through the house as you got her to help you choose which things she’d be taking for her sleepover (along with making sure she had what she actually needed). You made it to Rafael’s just after five, following the two of them into the apartment as he gave her the tour, making sure she was comfortable in the space. When she settled in relatively quickly against Rafael’s couch, he walked you back to the door.

“Try to have her in bed by 8:30, though her nap was pretty long today so she might fuss.” You brushed a hand through your hair, “And please, let’s not play bad cop, good cop. If she misbehaves you have to reprimand her, no matter how big the puppy dog eyes are.” Rafael chuckled softly,

“I’m here to be a parent, not play babysitter.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, a moment of hesitation hung between you, “Call if you need anything.”

“You uh-sure you don’t want to stay for a drink?” You let out a huff of a laugh,

“Are you kidding me? For the first time in four years I’m not directly responsible for a tiny human. That tiny human is your problem for the next eighteen hours. Rollins and I are going to drink wine, watch shitty reality t.v and swear as loudly as we want all night.” That caused him to outwardly laugh,

“Okay.” You saw the way his smile faded, the sudden hesitancy in his eyes at suddenly being alone with his daughter, completely responsible for everything. Your hand darted out, squeezing at his reassuringly, your voice soft as a feather as you spoke.

“Hey…you’re not your father…you’re going to do great. I know it.” He gave you a warm smile in return, internally hating the warmth fading from his hand as you dropped it again.

“Thanks.” He gave you a small nod, “Better not keep Rollins waiting.”

“I’ll pick her up at two. Have fun.”

“You too.”

With another small smile, your back was turned and you were down the hallway in an instant, leaving him to shut and latch his door, taking a deep breath as he turned back into the apartment. There was a whole new level of life ahead of him and he was about to dive head first right into.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law and order #svu #law and order svu #her everything #law and order special victims unit

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ryuseiphilia · 2 months

Text

FIRST POST WOOO!!!! however, i did not expect my first ever post to be me being shocked about the internet lately...

this post is somewhat of a literary analysis (that no one asked for) on wilbur soot's "apology" that was initially posted to twitter.

WARNINGS ;; talking about abusive behaviour in a relationship , nothing else..?

first of all, wtf is going on with that wilbur soot guy? i've heard of him before since my friend watches him but recently on twitter all i've seen is messy apologies, proof of horrid behaviour, and straight up abuse. yeah yeah, twitter does have the common ground of cancelling people but this isn't even cancelling. this shit is actually straight up abuse and there's so much about wilbur's behaviour towards shelby (i think that's her name?) and his aggressive behaviour towards other streamers he is/was friends with.

i can't say much on the topic of streamers since i don't watch any and i'm just a quirked up enstarrie, but all this baffles me. also his apology... let me just whip it out because oh my gee what is this shit... correction, actually, it isn't an apology at all. it is evident in the text that he is avoiding anything to do with a proper apology. the "apology" itself seems to have been written on a whim, with no sense of direction other than to simmer down the situation and make him, wilbur, to be less of a bad guy in this situation. also wilbur, you could've picked a better font than that buddy.

his apology starts off with a sense of composure, and the writing is decent. however the hook to his apology letter starts with the time frame and the allegations made instead of starting off with accountability. his second sentence tries to give emphasis that he won't disregard anyone's feelings on this situation. let's just keep in mind that this is evidently a lie of sorts (funnily enough). next he expresses how he has taken his sweet sweet time to give us this statement from him.

he then goes on about the ending chapters of his relationship with shelby, saying that he truly was being a little maniac in the last moments. i won't go on much about this second paragraph since it's just him trying to justify himself as a changed individual when that really is not evident in clips of what he's done to other people/others discussing him.

the third paragraph is really where we take a bite from the inedible whopper he has conjured. it speaks about the main topic of this whole drama; the abuse. "Throughout our relationship, I understood from our numerous conversations and text message exchanges on the subject, that this behaviour was consensual, playful and reciprocally enjoyed.". well, wilbur, it clearly was not. also let me point out how this man has yapped this entire apology and dragged out every topic to make his points sound professionally written. the second half of the first paragraph consists of how he's oh-so respectful of privacy and oh-so sympathetic to the people who are angry at him. the two points of addressing the allegations and his one-sentence apology are in the same paragraph. he ends this mighty big mac of a paragraph with "I want to extend my sincerest apologies for any pain that I caused.". buddy, you lost me at "want to". clearly, this sounds forced. just because he wants to doesn't mean he is. if you want to apologize like a true grown ass man, you have to learn how to phrase it to sound at least a bit more genuine. all the ways he's phrased his sentences has made it seem as though he's trying very hard to convey words that can earn a shred of sympathy from others.

the fourth and final paragraph wraps this whole short letter up into an ugly bouquet with flowers on the verge of wilting. the first sentence highlights his (obviously false) willingness to understand and address the victim and anyone else's concerns. then more yapping about how he hopes people will consider his perspective useful to this whole situation. well by golly, mate, no! the last ever sentence is just him trying to paint himself as someone who's going through the most insane character development arc ever. no. just... no.

i know my perspective on wilbur's horrid apology is not as note-worthy as those who have known about this man for a while, but i am simply just highlighting things from a literature perspective. i am sorry if this isn't helpful or if anything i said has been interpreted wrong.

unrelated note: i was literally listening to "shippuu jinrai shinobi michi" on loop this whole time HELP ME

#wilbur soot #mcyt #internet drama #literary analysis #idk how to tag #idk #help #help me #first post #yay #enstars #but it's kind of unrelated to enstars #dawg idk #shubble

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