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anurst · 1 year

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Girl Bradshaw

Summary: You and Bradley had a complicated relationship as siblings. He walked out of your life when he turned 18 and never looked back. What happens when your teams are forced to work together? Worse (for him, at least), Jake has taken a serious interest in you.

Pairing(s): Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F! Bradshaw! reader

Warning(s): inaccurate description of military/marine, language, alcohol

Part 1: Braidy (y/n) Bradshaw

You weren't a violent person. You consider yourself a lover, not a fighter. If your mom taught you anything, it's that violence is not the solution to your problems.

However, when it came to your best friend, Jensen Kay, you were willing to forgo everything your mom taught you. The shit-eating smirk he was sending you made everything in your body heat up.

"You wanna admit that I was right, (y/n)?" You scoffed in response before turning your back to him. His bubbly laugh echoed from behind you as your face started to turn red. The woman behind the counter giggled at the pair of you before she took the cup from your hand.

"I can make you a different drink, ma'am. Matcha isn't for everyone. Is an iced coffee drink ok?," she asked as you mumbled thanks and moved to the pick up area with Jensen following behind you.

"She's right, (y/n). Matcha isn't for everyone. Don't take it to heart that you didn't like it," Jensen teased.

"Up your ass, Jen." The taller man smiled at your response before taking a sip of his matcha latte. His eyes wandered around the cafe before winking at a pair of women ogling him from a table. They giggled once more before turning away as you turned to look at them.

"You're killing my game," Jensen told you as you rolled your eyes. Your best friend was well known throughout the marine raiders as a womanizer. Maybe that's why you two were such a good pair. You weren't against casual hookups, you indulged every now and then, but you didn't do it as frequently as Jensen. Your career was more important to you which meant you didn't have much free time for relationships and such. Besides, it's not like you had much of a life outside of the raiders.

Your parents were long gone and it was a fact you accepted after your mom died. You had an aunt from your mother's side of the family that you spoke to every now and then since she took you in after your mom's passed. Bradley and Pete had been cut out of your life for a long time. Bradley more than Pete.

"Here you go! An iced coffee. I took the liberty of adding in vanilla syrup." The barista placed the drink in front of you as you smiled at her.

"Thank you again. I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about. By the way, you two make a cute couple!" Before you could explain that you and Jensen weren't together, the barista had walked away. A disgusted frown made its way to your face as Jensen snickered.

"How about we get outta here and head to work, babe?"

"Eat shit, shitter."

"Morning Bradshaw! Kay!" Amy grinned at you two. Jensen smiled at her and the two started conversing as you followed behind them. Your service uniform was always incredibly uncomfortable for you. Something about the tightness and formality of it made you scream internally. Of course, you never showed your discomfort on the outside. Years in the academy and in the raiders taught you how to mask your feelings.

Jensen held the door for you and Amy as all three of you walked into the conference room. Politely greeting everyone, you took a seat as the lights started to dim. Your eyes met Nolan's from your spot as you nodded at your elemental leader. Carlos and Ethan were seated next to them and they gave you a friendly smile and nod.

"Thank you all for coming on such quick notice," Ari said, standing tall at the head of the table, all eyes on him. "Normally, the rest of my squad would be here to plan out the assignment, however, the higher ups have deemed that it's only necessary that I work on this." Ari Chambers was a man who respected by all. He was an efficient SOO and got the job done. His own squad was famed for their intelligence when it came to planning your assignments.

"Sir, if I may, why is it that only half our tactical squad was called for this assignment. Wouldn't it make more sense to have all of our combined skill?" Amy asked from besides you.

"The higher ups made it clear that the less people who know about this assignment, the better. I requested that only the people in this room be called back. In my personal opinion, this tactical squad is the stronger of the two in the first battalion. You have a fine squad, Meadows." Nolan nodded in appreciation as Ari continued. "Of course, it won't just be the raiders on this assignment. You'll be accompanied by a squadron of naval aviators, the best I've been assured. They'll take care of the skies while you work on the ground. They'll be arriving to Camp Pendleton within the next day in order to go over the assignment with us. I except everyone on their best behaviors."

You could see from the corner of your eye, Ethan holding back an eye roll at the comment. "Problem, Kim?" Startled, Ethan shook his head as Carlos, Jensen, and Amy turned to him with amused eyes. You and Nolan kept your focus on Ari as he opened a folder. "The squadron you'll be cooperating with has been dubbed as the "Dagger Squad." They'll be led by Captain Pete Mitchell. Callsign: Maverick."

'shit'

"Can't believe we have to actually work with naval aviators," Ethan complained from the seat behind you as Amy elbowed him. He and Amy were sitting in the seats behind you, and Nolan and Carlos were seated behind them. Jensen was sat to your right in the passenger's seat as you drove to the bar that your squad loved to drink at every time you were in California.

"I'm sure they won't be that bad," Amy reasoned as Carlos snickered from behind her. "Kim's just upset cause he got ghosted by naval aviator once."

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Yu-huh!"

"Children," Nolan warned as Ethan and Carlos quickly stopped arguing. Amy started talking about a movie she saw recently as Jensen turned to you.

"You good?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" you questioned, your eyes momentarily meeting his. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened as you thought back to Ari's words. Scoffing, Jensen rolled his eyes.

"Fine, be like that." Clicking your tongue, you sighed. You didn't like when Jensen gave you a taste of your own attitude. It reminded you of how bitter you became when the topic of your estranged family came up.

"I don't know if I can work with him."

"Captain Mitchell?"

"Yeah."

"Not to be harsh, but it doesn't matter if you think you can't. You're gonna have to so this mission is successful."

"I know. I'm gonna have to act like I can tolerate him, when in reality I want nothing more than to scream at him."

The sign of the The Gunny came into view as your squadmates cheered. Quickly parking and filing out, Carlos slung his arm around your shoulders before shaking you. "You gonna play us another song, (y/n)?" Smirking, you agreed as your group made its way inside.

Bodies in uniform and civies filled your vision as you greeted familiar faces. A smile made its way to your face as you approached the man behind the bar. "You miss me, handsome?" you teased the blond, who's eyes widened and smile widen upon seeing you.

"(y/n)! You're back," Zack sweetly cheered as he hugged you as best he could from behind the counter.

"For you? Always." Zack playfully rolled his eyes as he started pulling out beers for you and your squad.

"I'm assuming everyone else is here if you are."

"Yep," you said popping the 'p'.

"The first round's on the house. I'll see you in between rounds? Oh, and your guitar's still here!"

Giving the blond a wink and smile, you nodded before taking the beers and heading to your group's usual spot. Upon seeing you with drinks, your friends cheered and laughs started to flow around.

A couple drinks in and your squad, minus Nolan and you, had flushed cheeks and wide smiles. "(y/n), you're gonna perform for us, right?!" Amy widely smiled at you as everyone else smiled and agreed. You also smiled as you turned to look at Nolan.

"Only if our fearless leader joins me," you teased. Rolling his eyes, Nolan stood and offered you a hand. Giggling, you followed him towards the small stage and quickly grabbed your guitar that was mantled on the wall.

Your friends and other marines started to cheer and gathered around the stage. Like Jensen, you has a reputation within the raiders. When your squad was stationed in Oceanside, it was a guaranteed that you were the one who would start a performance. You'd say that it was in your genes to perform music for people.

Nolan started playing the drums from behind you and as you started playing on your guitar. People that recognized the tune of the song started cheering.

Mmm, yeah!

Tonight, I want to give it all to you In the darkness, there's so much I want to do And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet 'Cause girl, I was made for you And girl, you were made for me

I was made for lovin' you, baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you, baby Can you get enough of me?

Your eyes met Zack as he laughed and shook his head. He'd seen you perform multiple times and each was as memorable as the last. His favorite was when you and Jensen were absolutely drunk and got the entire bar to sing Kids In America.

Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true 'Cause girl, you were made for me And girl, I was made for you

I was made for lovin' you, baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you, baby Can you get enough of me?

The entire bar has joined in and a wide smile made it was to your face as you pointed to your friends who sang even louder.

I was made for lovin' you, baby You were made for lovin' me And I can give it all to you, baby Can you give it all to me?

Oh, can't get enough I can't get enough I can't get enough

As your eyes watched the crowd go wild, a familiar Hawaiian shirt peeked out from behind a group of guys and your eyes furrowed momentarily.

I was made for lovin' you, baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you, baby Can you get enough of me?

Oh, I was made You were made I can't get enough No, I can't get enough

I was made for lovin' you, baby You were made for lovin' me And I can't get enough of you, baby Can you get enough of me?

You cheered as claps and howls sounded throughout the bar. Turning to Nolan, you grinned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You both bowed and hopped off the stage before joining your friends.

Amy shook your shoulders and brought you in for a hug as the guys patted Nolan on the back. Face a little flushed, you excused yourself and made your way over to Zack. Requesting another beer, you waited for him to finish up with other people.

"Quite a show you put on," a man said from your side. Turning to him, you smiled at him. His green made your cheeks heat up slightly as thanked him. "I didn't know the raiders required sing lessons."

Giggling, you shook your head. "What can I say? Naturally gifted. My folks used to say it was a genetic thing."

"Gifted, indeed," the sandy-blond man grinned. "Jake Seresin." Nodding, you momentarily turned away to thank Zack as he passed you a beer.

"So, Jake Seresin. What're you doing in The Gunny? Never seen you here before."

"In Oceanside for work. I'm a naval aviator."

Raising your eyebrow, you let out a breathy laugh. "It was nice meeting you, but naval aviators are a big no for me." Jake's grin fell for a second before he grabbed your wrist as you turned away.

"Got your heart broken by one?" he asked as you chuckled.

"Three."

"I won't be number four."

Shaking your head, you removed your wrist from Jake's hold. "Sorry, Jake, but I'm just too busy." Quickly turning away, you started making your war back to your friends before stopping as Jake called out after you.

"I'll be by the pools table with my friends if you change your mind!"

Giving him an amused smile, you continued your walk to your friends before sliding into a seat. Exhaling, you tried to hide your red cheeks. Ever the observant one, Ethan whistled and wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Who's got you all red, (y/n)?"

"None of your business," you answered as Jensen and Carlos snorted. Amy smirked at you as she leaned closer to you.

"Come onnnnnnnn. Tell us," she whined as Jensen joined her from your other side. Grumbling, you looked at Nolan with pleading eyes. The older man simply raised his hands in surrender.

"Don't look at me. I wanna know, too."

Groaning, you buried your face into your hands as your friends continued to tease you. "Fine! Some dirty blond with cute green eyes. Approached me at the bar and introduced himself. Jake Seresin."

Amy squealed as the guys started to cheer. "Here's the kicker. He's a naval aviator."

Ethan's face dropped as Jensen and Carlos cackled at his face. Amy and Nolan smiled at you before Carlos suggested you go for after him. While everyone agreed, you started waving them off. "Naval aviators are a big no for me."

"Oh come on! He had you all flustered! I've never seen you like that," Amy reasoned as everyone nodded.

"Don't stop yourself from going after him just cause I have problems with aviators," Ethan added.

Biting your lip, you looked down at your beer. Jensen quickly rubbed your back as he lowered his voice, "Not everyone is gonna hurt you, (y/n)." Sighing, you nodded before standing tall. Your friends cheered as you turned and made your way to the pool tables.

Immediately spotting Jake, you called out to him. Grinning, Jake turned to you. Smiling at him, you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before your smile fell. The same Hawaiian shirt you saw earlier popped out from behind Jake. Stepping around the dirty-blond, you called out to the person wearing the shirt.

"Bradley?"

{A little guide to who everyone is since I didn't properly introduce them:

Jensen Kay- CSO in your squad

Ethan Kim- CSO in your squad

Carlos Ruiz- CSO in your squad

Amy Clarke- SARC in your squad

Nolan Meadows- your squad's elemental leader

Ari Chambers- SOO of the HQ half of the first battalion

Zack Ramsey- owner of the The Gunny

Braidy (y/n) Bradshaw- CSO

From what I've read the Marine Raider Regiment (MARSOC) is spit into three battalions. (y/n) is a raider within the first battalion which is stationed at Camp Pendleton in Oceanside, CA (45 minutes from Miramar actually). Each battalion is split into two sides, the HQ side and the tactical side. Ari is apart of the first battalion's HQ side and everyone else is apart of the tactical side. There's actually two squads on the tactical side but for the sake of story I only include one squad. If there's anything else I seemed to miss, feel free to tell me and I consider making some changes}

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun x you #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #top gun maverick x reader

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mynameismckenziemae · 5 months

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She’s a Fire-Chapter XI

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

More than desire

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: smut, p in v, dirty talk, orgasm delay, talk of punishment, etc.

“That must be your dad?” Bradley asks on the way down the escalator as he sees the ‘Rowan & Bradley’ sign being held up. As if he doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb with his red hair.

“Yep, that’s him, and oh, Laura’s here too!” You say before running into their arms.

“I missed you guys so much, I thought you had to work today?” You ask Laura as you pull back from their embrace.

“I took the day off, wanted to see you.” She smiles, wiping a tear.

“Dad, Laura, this is Bradley, my boyfriend.” You turn to Bradley, “Bradley, this is my dad, Brian, and my stepmom, Laura.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles as he shakes your dad’s hand. Laura pulls him in for a hug, which he returns naturally.

“How was the flight? Are you guys hungry?” Laura asks, wiping another tear. She cried when you filled her in on Bradley’s history on the phone, her heart breaking for him.

“Flight was good, Bradley said the pilot should’ve landed it better but I didn’t notice,” you laugh. “Yes, I’m starving, Bradley?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” he smiles.

They take you to a little diner on the way back to Springs. Your dad asks Bradley a lot of questions about his job and time in the Navy; he was a marine before you came along, choosing to get out when Mom had left. Even though it wasn’t your fault and he assured you that owning the bar was the best job he had, you always felt guilty for it.

Laura sneaks you a smile and squeezes your hand under the table as Bradley takes it in stride, your dad doesn’t realize how intense he can be sometimes, especially when he is discussing something he loves.

Conversation comes easily as they drive you the rest of the way home. Your dad helps Bradley with the suitcases and you fail to stifle your yawn, you’ve been up since 3 AM.

“Why don’t you guys get settled in your old room and take a nap? We’ve got to run to the store in a bit, and Lyss and Jen are bringing Carter over later for an early supper.”

“Oh good! I can’t wait to hold him again. He’s getting so big.” Your stepsister, Alyssa, and her wife, Jen had sweet Carter via surrogate a few months before you left. “A nap does sound good though,” you yawn.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You show Bradley to your old room. Thankfully your dad and Laura took down the embarrassing posters that littered your walls.

“Your dad doesn’t mind that I stay with you?” He asks as you plop down on the bed.

“No, not at all. He knows we’re adults. I think he’d appreciate it if we keep it down when we fuck though.”

“Jesus Rowan,” he says, his eyes widening.

You laugh and tug him down behind you, between you and the wall. He wraps his arm around you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Mmm, I know” you smile as you drift off.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The house is quiet when you wake up a few hours later. Which is good because you’re throbbing between your legs.

Bradley is kissing the back of your neck and you moan quietly as his fingers work you over in the front of your leggings.

“Woke up with your pretty ass pushed up against me. Even in your sleep, you like to torture me.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Please baby, I need you.” You whine, grinding your ass against him.

He pulls your leggings down to your thighs and pulls himself out of his pants, pushing into from behind. “That’s so fucking good,” you sigh, turning your head for a kiss.

He fucks you slowly, drawing a sweet orgasm from you before increasing his pace.

“Ask permission before you cum” you pant, your second orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Fuck, Row. Can I cum? Please?” He grits out, getting close too.

You shake your head and he whines. “No. Not yet. I want 2 more orgasms before you do.”

He nods against the back of your neck, circling your clit faster, pushing you over the edge again. His hips stutter and he chokes out a groan as you flutter around him. “Fuckkkkk, I don’t know if I can, baby. I’m close.”

“Not yet, one more first. You don’t want me to punish you under my dad’s roof, do you?.”

He whimpers, shaking his head but his cock jumps inside you. Oh, he so does.

“Come on Bradley, one more and you can fill me up. It’ll be dripping out of me while we eat, coating my thighs, staining my underwear…”

He slaps a hand over your mouth and fucks into you harder. “You gotta stop talking, I’m too close and your dirty mouth isn’t helping.” He pants.

You let out a guttural moan and clench tightly at the action. He’s so close that your clenching is enough to set him off.

“No no no, not yet,” he groans into your neck, pumping you full of his cum. He circles your bundle of nerves, a little harder and you fall over the edge again too.

You hear the front door open, your dad and Laura are back home.

He pants into the back of your neck. “Does that count? I got you there two more times.” He asks, hopefully, and yet not…he’s curious to see what this punishment entails.

You breathe out a laugh. “I said two more times before you could come. You came before the second one. So no, that doesn’t count.”

He whimpers, but his softening cock gives a twitch. You spot your old wooden hairbrush on your dresser and you know exactly how you’re going to punish him.

He pulls out of you, careful to not stain the sheets and tucks himself back in, and pulls your pants up over your ass after he gives it a pinch.

You turn over and press a kiss to his lips, bringing a hand up to cup his face. “See that hairbrush on my dresser?”

He glances over to it before his eyes meet yours again and nods, not catching on yet.

“It’s going to become well acquainted with your ass the next time the house is just ours, so no one can hear you cry. I think that should get you to listen better. Do you understand me?”

His eyes drift close and a shiver runs through him at your words before he nods. His cock is hard again at your thigh.

“I need to hear you say it. Use your words, Bradley.”

He opens his eyes, glassy with arousal. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” You prompt.

“Yes, ma’am” he whispers.

You smile and pat his flushed cheek. “Good boy”.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You clean up in the attached bathroom and head to the kitchen, giving Bradley a few minutes alone to calm down, he doesn’t want to greet everyone with a boner.

Alyssa and Jen come in a few minutes later, Carter wide awake in the carrier. Lyss wraps you a big hug and Jen hands you Carter next, knowing you won’t ask but are dying to hold him.

You feel a presence at your back, “Hey buddy, you got a strong grip for a little guy.” Bradley says when Carter reaches for his finger.

Introductions are done next and you and Bradley are ushered to the living room while your dad and Laura finish up the meal. Jen and Lyss offer to run to the store together for some drinks that were forgotten while they were out, happy to have a few minutes of quiet time.

Bradley can’t keep his eyes off you while you play with Carter, and holds his hands out to take him when he spits up on you.

“I’m gonna run through the shower quick if you don’t mind?” You ask as you hand him over. You would’ve just changed, but it got in your hair too.

“Yeah, we’ll be alright, won’t we big man?” He says, and Carter gives him a gummy smile.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

15 minutes later you pad back into the living room, and your ovaries nearly explode at the sight before you. Bradley’s got Carter tucked into his chest, and is rubbing a finger over his pudgy cheek.

“I hope it’s okay that he fell asleep now. Do you think it’ll mess up his schedule for tonight?” He asks, concerned. So sweet and thoughtful, like always.

“Nah, I think it’s fine.” You say and snap a picture on your phone. “You’re a natural.”

“Yeah? You think so? It’s been a while, I don’t remember the last baby I held.”

“Yeah, Jen and Lyss always talk about how hard it is for them to get him down. I was gone 15 minutes and he’s out.”

He smiles, looking down at him. “He just leaned right up against me, I rubbed his back and he was out like a light.”

Laura cries (again) when she sees Bradley holding him and takes him to lie down in the bedroom so you can all eat. You show Jen and Alyssa the picture you snap and they both coo. Your dad rolls his eyes, muttering “women” to Bradley but gives him a wink.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Carter sleeps through supper and you’re convinced Alyssa is serious when she asks if Bradley can come over to put him down tonight. “I’m not sure about tonight, but why don’t we watch him for a night before we leave so you guys can have some together?”

They readily agree and say their goodbyes, promising to see you again on Christmas.

Your dad insists on pulling out the VCR to watch some old home videos. Bradley laughs til he cries at how much of a spitfire you were.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Laura and Brian head off to bed and Bradley reaches under the tree to hand you a gift.

“I know it’s not Christmas, but this one is time-sensitive.” He answers when you give him a questioning look.

You open it and find 2 tickets to the Colorado Avalanche game scheduled tomorrow night on top of a hoodie in your size.

“Oh my God! Bradley! Seriously?!” You squeal.

“Yeah, I couldn’t find your dad, but I did find Laura on Facebook and messaged her to make sure there’s nothing planned for tomorrow night. I had the sweatshirt and tickets sent here so you wouldn’t see it in my suitcase.”

You put the box on the coffee table and proceed to show him how grateful you are.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You’re up early the next day, letting Bradley sleep while you get ready, taking your time with your hair and makeup and donning your new sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and thick vest.

You make the drive to Denver with your dad’s truck he offered you two for the day and show Bradley some of your favorite things from your old city.

You skate circles around him in the outdoor downtown rink and he dips you for a kiss in front of the Mile High Tree. You break away laughing when he pulls you up and you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Sorry if this is weird, but I snapped a few pictures of you two in front of the tree if you want me to airdrop them to you?” A sweet older woman tells you.

“Sure, thank you!” You say as you receive them.

“You’re welcome. I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. You two were so cute standing there together, and when he dipped you for a kiss, I just couldn’t not take some” She smiles, squeezing your arm.

“Thank you again, and Merry Christmas!”

You show Bradley the pictures and melt, they are cute.

Your heart skips a beat when his eyes meet yours. “Bradley, I-I love you.”

His face lights up. “I love you too. I have for a while. You’re all I can think about. I love that sweet smile you give me in the mornings before you even open your eyes. I love the way you take care of me. I love the way you ask me questions about my parents and want me to talk about them. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. I just…love everything about you.” He breathes out before bringing his lips to yours.

Tears are streaming but you kiss him back until you’re both breathless. He puts his forehead to yours to catch it. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Rowan.”

You smile. “Me either.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The game is incredible, but Bradley’s reactions are even better.

“That was awesome! They don’t show you the fights on TV, not like that at least.” He says, opening the truck door for you.

You laugh and agree. He holds your hand the entire drive home.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

There’s a note on your bedroom door from Laura when you get back

‘We’re going to see my dad in Boulder tomorrow morning. We should be back around 4. Love you!’

You smile, wishing you could go with but Laura’s dad suffers from dementia and doesn’t remember her most days even, it’s stressful with a lot of people there too.

You look over your shoulder at Bradley. “Looks like we’ll have the house to ourselves tomorrow.”

He stiffens behind you, in more ways than one.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: I think it’s obvious I have a spanking kink lol. Sorrynotsorry.

Taglist/tagging those who may be interested:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 1 year

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Just for fun, imagine this as the cast/contestants of an American adaptation of “Physical 100”:

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, actor/former pro wrestler

Martin Sensmeier, actor/model

Jason Momoa, actor

Adam Driver, actor/former U.S. Marine

Brie Larson, actress

Brandon Curry, bodybuilder

Christian Guzman, bodybuilder/YouTuber

Bradley Martin, bodybuilder/YouTuber

Kali Muscle, bodybuilder/actor/YouTuber

Nonito Donaire, boxer

Deontay Wilder, boxer

Mary McGee, boxer

Andre Ward, boxer (retired)

Lauren Taylor, CrossFit

Jocko Willink, former Navy SEAL

Cydney Gillon, IFBB professional figure and fitness competitor

Renee Enos, influencer/bodybuilder

Massy Arias, influencer/health and fitness coach

Jen Selter, influencer/fitness model

Lauren Drain, influencer/fitness model

Logan Paul, influencer/WWE wrestler

Jake Paul, influencer/boxer

Mike Trout, MLB

Bryce Harper, MLB

Mark Kolozsvary, MLB

Jesus Ferreira, MLS

Zach LaVine, NBA

Steph Curry, NBA

Seth Curry, NBA

Jimmy Butler, NBA

Jordan Clarkson, NBA

Jeremy Lin, NBA/PLG

Shaquille O’Neal, NBA (retired)

Brock Purdy, NFL

Patrick Mahomes, NFL

Jimmy Garoppolo (“Jimmy G”), NFL

Jalen Hurts, NFL

Joe Burrow, NFL

Josh Allen, NFL

Tyreek Hill, NFL

Phil Kessel, NHL

Becky Sauerbrunn, NWSL

Ariel Torres, Olympic bronze medalist in karate

Nevin Harrison, Olympic gold medalist in canoeing

Jennifer Valente, Olympic gold medalist in cycling

Andrew Capobianco, Olympic gold medalist in diving

Nathan Chen, Olympic gold medalist in figure skating

Alex Hall, Olympic gold medalist in freestyle skiing

Simone Biles, Olympic gold medalist in gymnastics

Aly Raisman, Olympic gold medalist in gymnastics

Gabby Douglas, Olympic gold medalist in gymnastics

Sunisa “Suni” Lee, Olympic gold medalist in gymnastics

Lindsey Vonn, Olympic gold medalist in skiing

Chloe Kim, Olympic gold medalist in snowboarding

Nick Baumgartner, Olympic gold medalist in snowboarding

Katie Ledecky, Olympic gold medalist in swimming

Nathan Adrian, Olympic gold medalist in swimming

Michael Cherry, Olympic gold medalist in track and field

Rai Benjamin, Olympic gold medalist in track and field

Athing Mu, Olympic gold medalist in track and field

Katie Moon, Olympic gold medalist in track and field (pole vault)

David Taylor, Olympic gold medalist in wrestling

Nyjah Huston, professional skateboarder

Matt Ladley, professional snowboarder

Mia Fishel, professional soccer player (Tigres UANL Femenil)

Brian Shaw, professional strongman

Jerry Pritchett, professional strongman

Dom Gabriel (“Dom Cruise”), reality TV star (The Mole/Perfect Match)

Joey Sasso, reality TV star (The Circle/Perfect Match)

Kolohe Andino, surfer

Gemma Nguyen, stunt performer/martial artist (see: Gamology)

Noah Fleder, stunt performer (see: Gamology)

Vincent Bouillon, stunt performer (see: John Wick Chapter 4)

Chris Brewster, stunt performer (see: Daredevil)

Lateef Crowder dos Santos, stunt performer (see: The Mandalorian)

Danica Goodheart, U.S. Army veterinarian and NPC Figure competitor

Colby Covington, UFC

Julianna Peña, UFC

Stipe Miocic, UFC

Dustin Jacoby, UFC

Kelvin Gastelum, UFC

Beneil Dariush, UFC

Max Holloway, UFC

Cub Swanson, UFC

Matt Schnell, UFC

Tatiana Suarez, UFC

Rose Namajunas, UFC

Holly Holm, UFC

Breanna Stewart, WNBA

Candace Parker, WNBA

Roman Reigns, WWE

Dolph Ziggler, WWE

Alexa Bliss, WWE

Cody Rhodes, WWE

Ronda Rousey, WWE/former MMA fighter

Brock Lesnar, WWE/former MMA fighter

Mikhail Varshavski (“Dr. Mike”), YouTuber and amateur boxer

Cassey Ho (“Blogilates”), YouTuber

Adrienne Mishler (“Yoga with Adrienne”), YouTuber

Jeff Cavaliere (“ATHLEAN-X”), YouTuber/bodybuilder

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tailsrevane · 1 year

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Re: Lower Decks 3 x 09, it's pretty much a unanimous opinion that this episode bombed for all the reasons you mention. And now that you pointed it out, it DOES feel rather mean spirited, which goes against everything the show has stood for. I mean, we knew Mariner would leave Starfleet somehow but did they have to make everyone so damn stupid to get there?!

And then there's the Mariner/Jen thing which McMahan had said on record was created solely for the purpose of creating angst for that one scene, which.....*sigh* putting the issue of representation aside, this just smacks of laziness when the relationship was never developed in any meaningful way except as a C plot in the most anticipated event episode of the season. Freeman had practically disowned Mariner in the previous scene, how does breaking up with her gf we rarely saw going to compete with that?!

It's a mark of good writing that it took this long to get a certified flop on its hands, but I think that's why it feels worse? Because unlike the late Berman era that I grew up on, we know these writers are capable of much better than this.

💯💯💯 i didn't even notice the bad representation with mariner & jen, heck. there's just so many layers of bad.

#asks #star trek: lower decks #lower decks

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lboogie1906 · 1 year

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Theresa E. Randle (born December 27, 1964) is an actress. She has appeared in films such as Malcolm X, Sugar Hill, Beverly Hills Cop III, Bad Boys, CB4, Girl 6, Space Jam, Spawn, Bad Boys II, and Bad Boys for Life. She was born in Atlanta. She began her performing career by studying dance (traditional, modern, jazz) and comedy. She entered Beverly Hills High School with a special program for the exceptionally gifted. At the end of college, she earned her first role at the Los Angeles Inner City Cultural Center and was seen in commercials. She was involved in acting on the stage. Theatrical roles include In Command of the Children, Sonata, 6 Parts of Musical Broadway, and Fight the Good Fight. She appeared in a George Clinton video, "Last Dance". She got her first big-screen break with Maid to Order. She appeared in roles in films such as Easy Wheels and Heart Condition. She continued in small roles in King of New York and Spike Lee and Malcolm X. She starred in Sugar Hill and appeared in Beverly Hills Cop III. She co-starred in CB4 and Bad Boys, later reprising in the sequels Bad Boys II and Bad Boys for Life. She earned her first starring role in Girl 6. She appeared in Space Jam and the film adaptation of the comic book Spawn. She portrayed singer Natalie Cole in Livin' for Love: The Natalie Cole Story. She played Marine Capt. Amy Jennings in the two Eagle One movies. She had a role in Shit Year. She made guest appearances on various television sitcoms and dramas. She had a guest starring role in A Different World, followed by a role in "The Apartment", an episode of Seinfeld two years later. She signed on to play Patricia Kent on Law & Order: Criminal Intent, as the assistant district attorney assigned to the Major Case. She was a regular cast member of State of Mind as Dr. Cordelia Banks. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/CmrDMT3r2q3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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lichotnyubeznik · 4 months

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Z cyklu Eseje: Œuvres III, tome 2, XLIV (éd. Brunschvicg): In a Galaxy Far, Far Away bylo placené zdravotnictví

"Chápeš to? Oni mají prostě předvolbu +1. Ne +10, ne +420, ale +1," říká mi šokovaně Novinářka. Je z toho tak fascinovaná, že mi to v průběhu týdne zopakuje ještě třikrát.

USA - a řízením osudu i Kanada a oblíbené karibské destinace - mají mezinárodní předvolbu +1. Dekonstruktivním čtením lze samozřejmě rychle dospět k tomu, že to je symptom amerického imperialismu a znak jejich mezinárodní nadřazenosti. Tak se to může jevit cizincům, ale pro Američany věc stojí jinak: jednička je něco jako šedá barva nebo jako vzduch, který dýchají. Je to číslo ne-číslo, neviditelná, nezřetelná cifra. Je to znak neutrality, bezbarvosti, bezobsažnosti - normálnosti. Teprve když se vyrazí z domoviny, ze země, která je jim světem a důvěrně známým prostorem, začínají před telefonními čísly vyskakovat jiné, prapodivné cifry. Už ne +1, ale cosi vyššího, cosi navíc. Tato čísla jsou aditivní, ornamentem nebo výrůstkem na jedničce, která je normální, je výchozím stavem, nereflektovaná, stejně jako žluté dopravní značky, zelené názvy ulic na sloupcích, všudypřítomné elektrické vedení, zvuky hasičských sirén, suburbie, ksichty lidí nebo krabice Taco Bellu.

Nejbližší dosažitelná země s předvolbou je Mexiko (+52). Američani ale rozdíl mezi +1 a těmi dalšími, potrhle rabbelaisovskými čísly musejí vnímat velice ostře i doma: ostatně v každé imigrantské čtvrti je nějaký hokynář s telefony a telefonními čísly, který na vývěsních tabulích inzeruje spoje do Brazílie nebo do Číny.

(Námět na borgésovskou nebo kafkovskou povídku: dovolat se někam v Číně: čínský trhovec se chce dovolat na farmu, jaká byla úroda, ale déšť mu smyl pár čísel; aby se dovolal, musí naťukat něco mezi 11 a 15 ciframi a trefit jedno z x miliard čísel; Čínani si svá čísla ani nezapamatovávají, už si je ani nezapisují; zlaté stránky jsou jako mapa tak detailní, že pokrývá celé zobrazované území; nakonec Číňané radši přestávají telefonovat a vracejí se k poštovním holubům; ti nosí náhodné zprávy náhodným lidem; všichni žijí ve snu; vesničan se o smrti císaře nikdy nedoslechne; atp.)

***

Amerika je normálnost, je nereflektovaná. Co se dá dělat, Američani můžou jet hodiny a hodiny autem jakýmkoliv směrem a najdou stejnou zemi se stejným jazykem. To platí i pro Kanadu, která je jen takovou zbytnělou Montanou, případně Novou Anglií, na jihu Arizona a Texas ruty šuty plynule přecházejí v Mexiko, Havaj v Pacifik a floridské Keys v Karibik. Portoriko vypadá jak portorikánské čtvrti a Kuba jak čtvrti kubánské.

***

Sedím v kině na AquaManovi (BonAquaManovi; MattoniManovi, KokakolaManovi), promítání ve 12, potřeboval jsem vypadnout z bytu, kde nejsem vítaným hostem, potřebuju zabít čas, bavím se tou imaginací podmořských světů, rozpoznávám, co kde vykradli, nicméně po chvíli to přijde, hrdina je vládcem vodního podsvětí, ale ve skutečnosti touží po životě v majáku, který je však vprostřed americké suburbie, jezdí se do ní zpíčeným autem, děcko vychovává po vzoru permisivní a liberální americké výchovy, "hey, buddy", fuj, už to dorazilo i do Čech, u bran Atlantidy se štosuje zácpa, i pod vodou jsou totiž dálnice se zácpami, v podmořských městech jsou samozřejmě mrakodrapy, v nepřátelské ponorce na sebe posádka štěká jak marines ve válečném filmu, sir yes sir, nepřátelskou pevnost všude střeží hlídky a pochůzky, to je taková americká paranoia, kterou se navzájem ujišťují, že jsou věci pod kontrolou, že je možné mít věci pod kontrolou, přitom já jsem tuhle přeletěl půlku země jen na český řidičák, celník nemohl najít nadřízeného a za mnou se štosovala fronta, byly 4 ráno, tak mě se skřípáním zubů nechal projít, no co, letadlo jsem neunesl ani neodpálil.

Ale ještě perverznější jsou superhrdinské imaginace vesmíru, v celém vesmíru najdeme suburbie a mrakodrapy, štěkající vojáky (sir! ye!s s!i!r!), bytosti, které se právě dostaly na exkluzivní vejšku nebo proklouzly se sociálním stipendiem; Adam Driver letí před 65 miliony let vesmírem na planetu Zemi v období pozdní křídy, protože na jeho exotické a dávné planetě je americké zdravotnictví a on vydělává na léčbu dcerce.

Amerika je +1, není první ani nejlepsí, kdepak, je normální, je jediná myslitelná, v hlubinách oceánů i v dálkách vesmírů a času všichni bydlí na předměstích a touží po sentimentu nukleární rodinky, pohybují se v zácpách po dálnicích, platí školné a za nemocnice, ve vojskách na sebe štěkají jak v paranoidní imaginaci americké armády. Američané nemají naději, žijí v jediném z možných světů a jsou odsouzeni k tomu být sami sebou tak, jak historicky mometnálně dopadli, protože dnešek je navždy.

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beardedmrbean · 7 months

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Damage to a gas pipeline and a telecoms cable in the Baltic Sea is raising alarm in Finland.

On Tuesday, Finnish Prime Minister Petteri Orpo (NCP) told a press conference that Finland has "raised its preparedness" following the damage to the Balticconnector marine gas pipeline.

Helsingin Sanomat notes that this was a slip by the PM, saying that this kind of language would imply an actual military threat. HS explains that Orpo had to walk back this language to typical defence-speak. In peacetime, the Defence Forces only "enhance" their readiness, which is "normal" Defence Forces activity, according to HS.

Last year, the Finnish Security and Intelligence Service (Supo) claimed that Russia and China posed the most significant threats of espionage and state influence. At the time, the agency said it was already seeing an increased threat to Finland's critical infrastructure. However, Supo still considered that a debilitating impact on infrastructure operations was not "likely in the near future." Now, it seems that Supo's "near future" has suddenly become recent history, the paper said.

A short list

Hufvudstadsbladet meanwhile asks if the Finnish leadership will dare to identify the pipeline saboteur.

The paper suggests that while the list of actors willing and capable of damaging both a gas pipe and a data traffic cable on the seabed between Finland and Estonia is far from long, the government does not want to call out anyone behind the deed.

Nobody wants to single out Russia, HBL said, adding that it was difficult to imagine any other suspect.

The Swedish-language daily reminds readers that Finnish president Sauli Niinistö as recently as August warned a crowd of Finnish diplomats of "Russian cruelties" and called on Finland to prepare for them.

Global attention

The pipeline damage is meanwhile making international headlines with stories often referencing last year's Nord Stream pipeline explosion.

Ilta-Sanomat reports UK premier Rishi Sunak posting on X, formerly Twitter, to say that the UK was ready to support investigations by Finland and Estonia.

Nato's secretary general, Jens Stoltenberg, has said the organisation was prepared to support its allies in investigating the pipeline damage. This sentiment was echoed by President Sauli Niinistö, who said Finland and Estonia could avail themselves of Nato expertise and investigative assistance.

#nunyas news #updates from up north

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noratheelk · 2 years

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Hello, these are my UPDATED unsolicited lower decks sexuality head canons:

D’Vana Tendi: asexual and Demi romantic and pan romantic (why do she and Mariner have so much chemistry 😭)

Bradward Boimler: bisexual man

Samanthan Rutherford: bisexual with preference for women (also he and billups do have chemistry)

Beckett Mariner: Raging bisexual

Jennifer ‘Jen’ Sh’reyan: lesbian

#star trek lower decks #mariner x Jen #Lower decks head canons

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mestankurier · 9 months

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Tož, kulturní boj pokračuje v celé své nahotě... Po oznámení složení francouzského ragbyového týmu pro mistrovství světa woke uživatelé internetu kritizovali prezentační video, které je prý „rasistické“. https://twitter.com/FranceRugby/status/1693588542126161925 Sportovní událost, která začne 8. září, vyvolává velké vzrušení mezi Francouzi, kteří chtějí vidět svůj tým vyhrát soutěž. Včera, 21. srpna, byl zveřejněn seznam 33 hráčů, kteří se představí v týmu Francie na tomto mistrovství světa. Oznámení bylo prezentováno ve videu, kde Francouzi ve čtyřech rozích území oznamují jména hráčů. Jsou zde staří lidé, mladí lidé, farmáři, rodiny, přátelé a dokonce i lidé s přistěhovaleckým původem. "Existují jen běloši a mají bílý balón" Tento klip vyvolal mnoho reakcí na sociální síti X. „Video je super rasistické“ , píše uživatel a upřesňuje, že jsou tam „jen běloši, točí se na vesnicích, smrdí to propagandou Národního sdružení Marine Le Pen“. Není jediný, kdo měl tuto reakci. Gilles R. uvádí: „Podívejte se na tento pěkný klip Petainistů a Vichistické Francie“ , když se jin�� uživatel domnívá, že reklama je „velmi bílá“. Kulturní boj woke teroristů tak jede na plné obrátky. Naštěstí většina komentářů je pozitivních a jsou „sjednoceni pro sen“, tedy o vítězství na Světovém poháru v ragby. Autor: Redakce, 22.8.2023 Zdroj: https://www.valeursactuelles.com/societe/raciste-clip-petainiste-des-internautes-critiquent-le-clip-annoncant-les-joueurs-selectionnes-pour-la-coupe-du-monde-de-rugby Podpořte nezávislou originální žurnalistiku! Unterstützen Sie originellen unabhängigen Journalismus! Číslo účtu / Kontonummer: 1511201888/5500 IBAN: CZ7755000000001511201888 BIC/SWIFT: RZBCCZPP Majitel účtu / Kontoinhaber: BulvarART s.r.o. / GmbH www.mestankurier.info © Copyright 2023

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project-star-trek · 3 years

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WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT???

I’m minding my own business losing my damn mind over Jen/Mariner actually becoming canon (best Trek ship ever F I G H T M E) and Lower Decks JUST *gestures wildly* I CANNOT

#this fucking show #i love it so much #star trek #star trek lower decks #lower decks season 2 #first first contact #beckett mariner #jen the andorian #jen x mariner #jennifer sh'reyan

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jthebeauty · 3 years

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💡 in my head just now at 6:04 am.

#but umm ‘professor’ taiju x ‘bimbo school girl’ reader?#quotations bc it’ll be a roleplay between taiju & his wife 🥴#idk how people feel about this one so i’ll just let it marinate (?) idek the word LOL #but yeah umm i have it all in my mind already 😵‍💫#jen — thoughts. 💭#queued! ⏰

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fific7 · 3 years

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Dangerous and Divine - Part 4

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff with a bit of lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral sex, between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

“Angel....” he sighed.

“Billy....” you smiled lazily, “...you’re such a big sap.” His barking laugh rang out loud in the room.

He rolled off you, laying on his back, stretching and turning his head to look at you, smiling. “Not somethin’ you should really be sayin’ to an ex-Marine, sweetheart.” You shrugged, “Not if it’s true.” “So, first I’m a puppydog and now I’m a big sap?” You nodded, “Yes. Yes, you are.” He rolled back onto you, kissing you again. “Okay, okay, I’m a big sap. But not a puppydog, alright?”

“Oh, alright,” you grumbled, pushing back an errant lock of that hair. Then you ran your fingers through the whole lush mass of it. He grinned, “You really like my hair, hmmm?” You were still playing with it. “Yeah. So what if I do?” He shook his head forward, so that several strands of it tickled your face. “Another little thing I know about you now.” You blew the strands off, and began pushing them back over his brow again. “Gonna use it against me, Russo?” He chuckled, “You bet.”

He rolled away and stood up next to the bed, pulling the condom off and knotting it before throwing it casually into a bin under the bedside table. A nasty little voice in your head muttered, strategically placed bin, looked very practiced doing that, you sure he doesn’t bring women back here? Oh shut up, you silently answered.

“Like some more wine?” You nodded, so he strolled out of the bedroom (you were totally watching that tight ass walk away) and returned a few moments later holding two glasses. He held one out to you, which you took and sipped from. Really good wine, you thought.

He lay down next to you, taking a drink of his own wine and just gazing at you. “What?” you asked. “What?” he parroted back at you. You poked his shoulder, “Why are you staring at me like that?” He took another drink, eyes never leaving yours over the rim of the glass. “So I can’t just sit and look at my beautiful girlfriend?” You laughed out loud, “What?! Did you just use the G word, Russo? You’re joking, right?” He grinned back at you, “Are you sayin’ you don’t wanna be my girlfriend?” You were surprised to see his grin fade a little the longer you gazed back at him.

Sitting up straighter, you said, “Billy.... tell me you are joking with me? We’ve known each other for like, 5 minutes! And you’re a player, and a very busy boy and I’m a very busy girl. I like you, I really do... but this is all just a bit of fun between us, right?...what else could it be at this stage?” You were surprised when a real frown appeared on his handsome face and he looked away from you. He sat up, resting his wrists on his raised knees, wine glass dangling between them from his long fingers.

“What else...?” He turned his head to look at you, “...somethin’ real. Maybe you don’t, but I feel a deep connection between us, even this early in. Like, I can be myself with you. Without all the bullshit.” You took a long sip of your wine, maintaining eye contact, considering what he’d just said. You reached out and ran your thumb across his bristly chin. “I do think we clicked, Billy. And I’d like to see you again, if you want to.” His fingers went to your thumb where it lingered on his face, and he stroked your skin. “Yes, I do want to. And I want to keep doing this. I mean... us sleeping together.” You laughed, “Now why am I not surprised?” He gave you a small, almost shy smile, “Okay, then.” He put his wine glass on the bedside table and lay back down, propping himself up on an elbow, “You gonna stay the night?”

Taking another sip of your wine, you nodded, “Yeah, think I will. See? I’m even willing to do the walk of shame I promised myself I wouldn’t do for you, Billy.” Now a big genuine grin from him beamed its way to you, “I’m honoured.” “Yes, you should be,” you said, smirking and leaning forward to kiss him softly.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You and Billy had disappeared under the covers after that, kissing, touching and eventually snuggling into each other before you fell asleep. Waking first in the morning, you looked across the pillow at the exquisite vision that was Sleeping Russo. His face was relaxed and peaceful, his hair tousled and laying over his forehead, lips ever so slightly parted - you could just hear him giving out tiny little breathy snores. He had one arm thrown over your hips, pinning you against him.

Thinking over what he’d said last night, you allowed yourself to be a bit overwhelmed by it. You still weren’t really sure that he’d been serious, but it had sounded like it. Calling you his girlfriend after knowing you for only a few days? That was way too soon, and also didn’t sit well with his super-confident ‘I’m a CEO - look at me - how fuckable am I?’ persona. And you’d seen the reactions of the women in that bar on your first ‘date’, and even in the restaurant yesterday evening.

The eyes of every woman in the place had been pulled towards Billy like a magnetic force was in play as he’d walked in with you. Then their eyes had flickered over you with something close to disdain. Yeah, thanks for looking at me as if I’m a piece of trash. Well, you mentally shrugged, sorry bitches, I’m the one who got to go home with him. And then got to have him.

A tingle ran right through you as your memory provided a reel of you and Billy having sex. Then your mind went back to the ‘girlfriend’ thing, and you couldn’t deny that it gave you a little bit of a thrill that he’d actually said that. But then that annoyingly sensible part of your brain said, “Hey, just chill! Take things easy, see where it goes.” You tried to ignore the other side which was yelling, “Go for it! Tell him hell yes you’ll be his girlfriend.”

You extricated yourself from underneath Billy’s arm and headed to the bathroom, pulling his long white tank undershirt on as you went. Mmmm.. your nose said, Aroma di Russo. Looking into the bathroom mirror, you decided you looked like you’d gone several rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson.

Trying to repair the damage somewhat, you washed your face, swirled some toothpaste round your winey-breathed mouth followed by a ‘rock chick head banging’ rearrangement of your hair. Well now you just looked like Lady Gaga on a bad day. Shrugging, you padded back through to the bedroom, finding a pair of dark chocolate eyes regarding you from the bed as you walked in.

‘Buon giorno,” you smiled at him, getting a big smile back in return, his eyes now sparkling with mischief. “Mornin’ to you too, angel. Uhhh... now what was it someone was sayin’ to me last night about matching clothes?” “Ha ha smartass.. we are not matching, I am wearing one item of your clothing.” Chuckling, he beckoned you back to the bed, but you shook your head, “I better get going, Billy, it’s later than I thought.” You’d been a little surprised to find out it was 10am, you never slept that late - well, not recently since you’d had your own business to run. “It’s Saturday!” he protested, “Where have you gotta be so urgently on a Saturday?”

“I always check in at both cafés on a Saturday morning, it’s our busiest day. And help out if needed.” He contemplated you from his position lazing on the pillows, “A hands-on boss. I’m impressed. I like to be hands-on too.” He saw you rolling your eyes and he said, “Hey! I am actually talking about my business practices here!” You laughed, “OK, OK, I’ll accept the truth of that statement!” You started picking up your clothes, throwing them on quickly and grabbing your phone to call an Uber.

“No, no,” said Billy, leaping athletically out of bed, giving you a nice eyeful as he did so. “I’ll take you home then I’m coming along with you to work.” Your jaw dropped, “Why would you wanna do that, Billy?” He was heading for the bathroom, and said over his shoulder, “Cos I want to spend some more time with you, is that okay?” You spluttered, “Well... yeah, fine,” to his departing back.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d grabbed a quick shower at home - declining Billy’s offer to join you. “I know you already showered before we left your place,” you admonished him. “Can’t be too clean,” he smirked, “maybe there were some places I missed and only you can reach.” Groaning out an “Uhhh!”, you disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Not a moment too soon as the door handle rattled a split second afterwards. “Now that’s just not fair!” you heard from the other side of the door. You turned on the shower, grinning at the constant string of pleas from outside but ignoring them all.

Dressed casually for your weekend café visits, Billy dropped you off in Greenwich Village and joined you a few minutes later in the café, after finding a parking space. Here, your three co-workers were already knee-deep in customers, and you were busy taking someone’s order to their table when he stepped through the door. Your stomach did a backflip, and you took a moment to appreciate just how especially hot he was looking today. Black jeans, black V-neck T, black combat boots, topped off with his leather jacket.

Once again, all female eyes tracked onto him like lasers, including your three staff - Stace, Amy and Jen. You sighed, welcome to your new normal you thought. However Billy’s eyes were locked on you, and he smiled, indicating with a raised finger that he was heading to an empty table. You nodded back, mouthing “Two minutes,” at him as you cleared off a table. And now all the female eyes were on you, with a mixture of curiosity and no doubt a dash of jealousy mixed in there. You returned to the counter, walking behind it carrying two coffee cups and a plate, which you rinsed and popped into the industrial-sized dishwasher.

Jen sidled up to you, she was the Jake equivalent at this café. Before she could say anything, you smirked, “He’s my new... friend, okay?” She looked at you, wide-eyed, “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I would. He’s really hot!” She was just about the only one who could get away with that comment, and you laughed, “You can look, ragazza, but you better not touch!” Her hands went up, innocent look on her face, “Wouldn’t dream of it!” “Can you pass on the gossip to the girls?” you asked, “I’m off to sit with my hot boyfriend.” Moving to the nearest Gaggia, you all of a sudden realised what you’d called him. Oh. You’d better watch that.

Carrying two double macchiatos over to where Billy sat scrolling through his phone, you informed him that you were going to refine his palate, coffee-wise. Amy followed in your footsteps, bearing a plate of pastries. She gawped unashamedly at Billy as she put the plate down in the middle of the table. You sighed inwardly, she was young and had no filter sometimes. “Thanks, Amy,” you emphasised her name, and she snapped out of it, looking at you guiltily before smirking and walking away. You in turn smirked at Billy, “You have a fan.” He laughed, “She’s a kid.” “Yes, she is, and currently sporting heart-eyes for my....” you stopped speaking briefly then continued, “...but she’s a quick learner, she’s only been with us a few weeks and she already makes a mean coffee.”

He added sugar to his coffee, smiling, “What’s this then?” “Macchiato. Espresso, but with a dash of milk foam.” Raising the small cup to his lips, he sipped. “Mmmm, yeah it’s good. A bit stronger than I usually take my coffee, but yeah... I can see you succeedin’ in refining my tastes.” He placed the cup back in the saucer, looking back up at you suddenly, “What were you gonna say? When you said she had heart-eyes for me. Your... what?” He was smirking at you, but his eyes were serious. Truthfully, you’d been about to say ‘boyfriend’ but you weren’t about to admit that to him. You placed your hand on his arm, “Friend, of course.” His hand covered yours, eyes boring into yours, “Well why didn’t you just say that? Hmm?” You could just feel yourself blushing, shit! he’d sussed you out, you were sure of it, but you just laughed, “I don’t know. Cos I hadn’t had my coffee yet, maybe?”

His hand left yours, and he chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah, okay.” Watching him picking up a pastry and biting into it, you found yourself staring at his mouth before shaking yourself out of your mini-trance. He asked, “So, are we headin’ over to Chelsea soon?” and you nodded, also choosing a pastry and munching on it. “And afterwards?” he questioned you. You thought for a moment, “We could head back to my place for some lunch.” “Yeah, I like the sound of that,” he agreed, devilish smirk in place, “with a hot and sexy session in bed as afters.” You lightly slapped his wrist, “Billy!” your head swivelling to see who might have overheard him - he hadn’t particularly kept his voice down.

You spotted a young woman at the table behind glaring at you as if she was offended, not by the conversation, but by the very fact that you were sitting there with Billy. You quickly looked away from her. Lordy, at this rate you were going to end up with a knife between your shoulder blades just for sharing the same breathing space as Billy. Shortly afterwards, Billy headed for the door as you went over to say Bye to your team. Meeting up with him outside, you saw him looking at a small scrap of paper before screwing it up and tossing it into a wastebin. “What was that?” you queried. Grinning, he said, “Woman at the next table gave me her number on my way out.”

As you two were still standing by the café window, your turned your head until you met the disappointed eyes and angry face of the woman who’d glared at you earlier. You knew she’d just seen Billy throw her number in the trash. Normally you would’ve flipped her off just to drive home the point, but you reminded yourself that she was a customer of yours, so instead you smirked at her, stretching up and softly kissing Billy. He slid his fingers onto your neck and up onto your jaw, kissing you back. It wasn’t as full-on as the kiss in Chelsea had been - which was just as well as she wasn’t the only one watching - but it was enough to send her a metaphorical finger.

You’d then strolled off with him, taking his hand as you did and intertwining your fingers with his. He seemed pleased about this, looking down and smiling at your linked hands. A twinge of guilt hit you, as you’d done it solely to further piss off that blatant bitch who you well knew was still watching and seething with jealousy, but then you did have to admit it felt.... actually quite nice.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The lunch at your apartment had been really enjoyable. You’d prepared one of your favourite dishes, using fresh pasta you’d made a couple of days prior, and which had been waiting in the fridge just so it could make a suitable entrance. Billy had been fascinated, watching you make ravioli parcels with it and filling them with white crab meat, seasoning as you went along. Then you’d made a light butter and sage sauce to go with it and some garlic bread to have on the side.

He’d polished off stacks of it, saying it was so good that he was going to kidnap you and hold you captive in his kitchen. “Oh, yeah...” you scoffed, “...what is it all those cavemen like to say about women... keep them barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, right?!!”

“If you insist,” accompanied by a smirk and a sly wink. “Not a chance, Mr Russo.”

Even bigger smirk, “We’ll just have to see, won’t we, sweetheart?”

You took the conversation to the bedroom, joking with Billy that while you were indeed a total and utter goddess, there was no way you’d ever end up being a domestic goddess. Billy was laughing, removing your clothes and his in the meantime, while you still chattered on. He finally got you to stop talking by pinning you down underneath him and kissing you with heated passion, telling you that yes, you were his goddess and as such, he was going to worship at your feet.

Billy got up and pulled you smoothly forward by your ankles until you were lying half off the bed, then spent rather a lot of time with his head between your legs, before bestowing a further offering upon your body. This second generous votive consisted of him pleasuring you with his impressive erection, and was the most sensual and prolonged example of worship you’d ever experienced in your immortal goddess-type life. This you graciously and very loudly accepted from your devotee.

You and he fell into a light sleep, both spent after your exertions. Just before you drifted off, you heard Billy whisper, “Next time m’gonna eat some of that pasta right off that gorgeous body of yours,” and your dreams ended up full of Billy, and food, and wine, and sex. And grapes. Well, you were a goddess after all, so you had to have a bunch of grapes to nibble on, right?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Waking up on Sunday morning, there was a notable lack of a warm body beside you in your bed. Had he just left?...you wondered.... without even waking you? He’d better not have. Not if he wanted to retain his crown jewels, you thought grimly. You got up, rustled around in your drawer for a long t-shirt and pulling it on, walked through to your open-plan living area. There in your kitchen, stood a naked Billy Russo in all his splendour, his back to you as he held the handle of a pan on the cooker, stirring the contents with one of your favourite neon-coloured big kitchen spoons.

“Mornin’, goddess,” he called to you, sniper senses picking up your arrival within his vicinity. You were just smiling at his use of your new pet name when he turned towards you. He leant back on the cooker, arms folded across his chest, giving you a real eyeful of his toned torso and the rest of his ‘equipment’, as he’d called it. You momentarily lost the ability to speak - goddamn that man was a work of art. Quickly recovering, you managed to say, “Morning, Marine.”

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Amazing artwork created for this chapter by @lauraeartwork 🥰

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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eastertag · 3 years

Text

@willow-salix gift for @gordonthegreatesttracy

The only thing he was aware of was the pain, pain so great it felt like his entire body had been ripped apart and set on fire. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he wasn’t even sure if he was alive or dead.

A world of pain, beyond which nothing else existed.

The heavy weight that had been pounding on his chest stopped, his lungs screamed in protest as he tried to suck air into them, fighting with him.

“I’ve got output!”

“He’s back!”

-x-

THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES EARLIER

“You’re so lucky!”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, something that had been an almost permanent fixture on his face for the past three days since he’d heard that he, a relative newcomer, had been picked over everyone else. It was such an honour, completely unexpected, but an honour nonetheless.

“How did you even pull it off? Did Daddy throw some cash their way?” Browns teased.

“Ha! You wish that was the reason, then you’d never have to admit that it’s all down to my superior skills and outlandish charm,” Gordon preened as he yanked at the left leg of his dry suit. It was cumbersome, far thicker than he was used to, a complete pain in the ass to drag on, but an essential bit of kit that he would not be allowed out without.

Browns helped him hoist the back up over his shoulders once he got his arms in the holes. Gordon rolled his shoulder, settling the stiff material in place as best he could. He still felt uncomfortable but it sure beat the alternative.

“Five minutes to go!” his commander called through the door. “You almost ready, Tracy?”

“I was born ready, sir.”

“Good lad, then get moving.”

Gordon tried his hardest not to run out of the door, so eager was he to get his butt in that seat. Some people would never understand his excitement, but to him it was a dream come true. He’d seen the way his eldest brother would practically vibrate with excitement whenever he called home and told them all about the latest plane he’d been called in to test drive and, Gordon had to admit, he’d never really understood what all the fuss had been about. Now it was his turn and he knew that he’d be grovelling to Scott in a few hours time, begging his forgiveness for all the times he’d teased him about his latest winged crush. He was just as guilty, except his crush had two sleek and sexy foils propping her out of the water like the majestic queen that she was. And he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

The next five minutes had flown by faster than he could track, people had surrounded him on all sides, all yanking and pushing and prodding him into place. One had helped him climb into the cockpit, carefully navigating so as not to knock his helmet on the metal bars of the reinforced frame that would encase him on both sides. Another had buckled him into his seat, bringing the safety straps down over his shoulders and clipping them into the buckle between his legs. Yet another had double checked the air supply to his suit, just in case.

The Navy hadn’t touched hydrofoils for almost a century after they had been deemed too expensive, too unpredictable and of no real use. Now WASP had taken up the challenge.

The project, codenamed Poiseiden, had seen the designing, building and now the testing of the Sea Skimmer hydrofoil, which looked set to be the next shining gem to come out of the experimental watercraft division.

As long as it worked as it should, there was the potential for it to become a standard vehicle in all branches of WASP before the end of the year, making high speed sea rescues or pursuits all the easier.

“Did you hear me, Tracy?” the engineer to his left asked again, making him jump.

“Yeah, sorry,” Gordon winced, cursing his lack of attention.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I’m good, I swear. I was just running a mental checklist and didn’t hear you the first time,” he lied smoothly, refusing to admit that he had been picturing the glory that he’d get from this once the programme was rolled out across the board. This was a career making opportunity and he couldn’t afford to blow it.

“Good,” the man patted the top of Gordon’s helmet affectionately, before bellowing over his shoulder; “Team, roll out!”

The flock of people that had been buzzing around the craft melted away, each person having already completed their specific task or moving to prepare for it, leaving Gordon alone.

His gloved hands flexed on the controls, impatient to get going. The silence around him was broken by the crackle of the radio then the unmistakable sound of a countdown. Thirty seconds to go...twenty...ten...five…

The second clearance was given he was off, easing the boat out of its covered dock and out into WASP’s test harbour. Once he was clear of the floating observation platforms he opened her up, moving her in a graceful figure eight, just letting her glide through the water as he got a feel for the way she handled while gradually increasing speed.

He was five miles per hour off the predicted speed when he felt the first hint of lift, the very thing he had been waiting for. He straightened out, deviating from his previous path to that of a straight line before pushing the throttle a little more.

As her speed increased so did the lift, the foils doing their job perfectly, raising her hull out of the water, the foils beginning to skim just as they were supposed to. He couldn't help the little woop of excitement that escaped as the bow kept lifting higher and higher. It was only bloody working!

“You’re doing great, Tracy,” the voice over the radio said. “How does she feel?”

“Great, just great,” Gordon replied. “She’s handling like a dream, a little twitchy but nothing terrible. I can feel every little move that the water makes but not like a normal boat, more like when you’re surfing. She’s not plowing through the water, she’s skimming it just as she’s supposed to.”

“How much more can she take?”

Gordon glanced down at the speedometer, registering that she was already at just over two hundred miles per hour.

“Nothing in here, I'd need to take her to the open water.”

“Affirmative, carry on.”

Grinning widely, Gordon steered her straight for the opening that led to the stretch of ocean that was permanently closed to all marine traffic within a hundred and fifty square miles. He heard the safety boat following somewhere behind him but ignored it, they were professionals and would know to keep out of his way, he just had to concentrate on his own driving.

Once he was clear he pushed the throttle forward easing into the last third, ready to push her to her max. He watched as the speedometer readouts climbed ever higher, ten miles, twenty, thirty, she kept going, lifting higher and higher out of the water. He wasn't just feeling it, he could see it, the angle of the horizon line ahead of him changing before his eyes.

“Give her all she’s got, Tracy,” his commander encouraged and Gordon was only too happy to comply. It felt amazing, she was gliding, almost effortlessly, barely skimming the surface of the water as her sleek, aerodynamic foils sliced through all resistance like a hot knife through butter.

“Yes, sir!”

He pushed the throttle forward that last few millimeters until it could go no more. The engines roared their approval as the numbers continued to tick over edging ever closer to that elusive three hundred mark…

“Yes!” he screamed in triumph as the two rolled into a three.

“Well done, Tracy!” the voice over the radio praised. “How does she feel?”

“Like she’s standing still,” Gordon enthused. “It’s effortless, I can barely feel her moving at all. Smooth as silk.”

“Give her one last go around and then start easing back into port.”

“Got it,” Gordon confirmed, moving to do just that.

What happened next was both too quick to register but also felt like it was happening in slow motion. His hand gripped the throttle, starting to ease it back in order to begin deceleration, meaning to execute a large sweeping curve to bring her back around to face port. The handle, which should have moved back as easily as it had moved forward, stayed exactly where it was.

The hydrofil was already coming into the turn and her nose lifted even further, suspending her almost bolt upright for a split second before she left the water completely, shooting up into the air.

She cartwheeled through the air, end over end for three full turns before she came crashing face down into the water. Somewhere during the second tumble Gordon had managed to locate and press the button on the side of the steering wheel that activated the emergency ejector seat.

He felt the side of his helmet crack against the crumple cage, making his brain rattle in his skull as darkness overcame him.

“Move! Move! Move!” Commander Jennings bellowed as the safety boat he was on rushed to the scene. He could see the pilots seat in the distance, floating in the ocean not far from the wrecked craft.

His instruments and readouts told him that the safety valves in Gordon’s dry suit had opened, meaning that the suit’s sensors had detected enough ejection force to initiate the rush of air that would fill the suit, acting as both a cushion and a stabilizing force to protect his body as it crashed into the sea like a rag doll.

The sensors also told him that Gordon was not breathing.

They reached his side in less than a minute, paramedic divers already throwing themselves overboard to reach him before they had come to a complete stop.

They turned him over, finding a deep crack in his helmet that extended to the visor which was letting in water, filling up the space his head currently occupied. They flipped open the visor, letting the majority of the water drain away, but the hoped for breath was never heard.

A hover stretcher appeared beside them as they released his safety harness and dragged him to the board. He was strapped down and hauled into the boat as quickly as possible.

The second he was aboard they wasted no time in releasing the safety catch on his helmet and removing it as carefully as possible. They knew that they were risking further damage to his neck or spine, its current condition unknown, but getting him breathing was their top priority.

Working in tandem one started rhythmic chest compressions, trying to force the water out of his lungs and air down into them. On the count of thirty the paramedic stopped allowing his partner to seal her mouth over Gordon’s pushing two breaths into his lungs. They waited a beat, eyes searching for any kind of response while another of the team held the medscanner over him, waiting for the verdict. Nothing.

“Keep going, I’ll get this tube in him,” another ordered as they continued to work. Two rounds of chest compressions and mouth to mouth were completed as they readied the tube, chest compressions continuing as it was inserted.

They worked solidly for more than three minutes until finally, blessedly, the medscanner registered the faintest flicker of life. But it was enough.

-x-

The nurse hadn’t expected the sheer number of people that surged through the doors of her emergency room, all yelling one name and demanding to know what was going on, where he was, to be taken to him, to see his medical records and to talk to his doctor RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

“You can’t all be in here,” she started, trying to instill some kind of order into the chaos that was now clustered around the receptionist, who was blinking like a deer in headlights, unable to form words, her eyes darting from one to the other, trying to decide who to answer first.

“Are you in charge here?” the tallest man demanded to know, his eyes flicking from her face to her name tag, Senior Nurse Sophie Gardner.

“I am,” she stated calmly, crossing her arms to show she meant business. She’d been on the receiving end of a large number of distressed family members and knew that they would pounce on her the second she showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Gordon Tracy, he was brought in by air around 90 minutes ago,” Scott told her, trying his hardest not to snap.

“And you are?”

“His brother.”

“And the rest? It’s close family only, no friends allowed.”

“His brothers and our grandmother,” Scott answered, daring her to argue.

“All of you are family?”

“Yes! What do you need ID now?” Scott snapped, rapidly losing patience.

“Can we see my grandson now, please?” Sally asked, inserting herself in front of Scott and into the conversation.

“Let me just look him up,” Sophie said, moving to the computer to pull up his file. She remembered the state of him when they had brought him in, she had only just come on shift but had been there to do the handover.

An air ambulance had arrived, landing on the helipad on the roof and he had immediately been rushed through her department, barely giving them time to complete the minimum of observations and take notes before he had been whisked away again. It wasn’t unusual, they were one of the most advanced military hospitals in the country, they were used to life or death cases.

She could picture him, lying on the stretcher, strapped to a board, his uniform suit cut to ribbons both from scissors and from whatever had happened to him to cause so much damage. He was instantly fast tracked through her department and rushed on to the surgical team for scans and treatment.

Now Sophie was faced with his scared and demanding family and it looked like it would be falling to her to deliver some of the bad news.

“He’s being prepped for surgery, he might even be in by now. The full extent of his injuries aren’t known but I can promise you we’re doing our best.”

“When can we see him?” Virgil asked, butting in for the first time, leaving John to continue texting Kayo who had stayed behind with Alan. Alan had not been happy with that decision, but the others had stood firm. They didn’t know what they were going to find when they got there, what state their brother would be in and the youngest didn’t need to see anything that would be hard for him to forget. Scott had tried to impose the same restriction on Sally but had quickly given up, knowing it had been a lost cause before he had even started.

“When he’s out of surgery and stable,” Sophie replied kindly, knowing that they didn’t mean to be so forceful and demanding, she wasn’t going to take it personally just yet. “If you’ll all follow me I’ll take you to the relatives room where you can wait for news, I’ll let the surgeons know that you’re here but I’m afraid you might be in for a long wait.”

“Waiting won’t be a problem,” Scott assured her as they stalked down the corridor after her.

It was a silent party that sat in that room all night long, sat for more than nine hours as their little brother underwent one gruelling surgery after another, the first of many trips into the theater that he would undergo over the next few days, or so they had been told.

The member of the surgical team, who had been called in to talk to them, had been kind and very sympathetic as he had delivered the crushing news, revealing the full extent of Grodon’s injuries. Each one more horrific than the last.

The immediate concern was his ruptured spleen, lacerated liver, punctured lung and depressed skull fracture. The plan was, if the current surgeries he was undergoing went well, to keep him in a medically induced coma as soon as he was out of surgery, give his body at least 24 hours to rest and strengthen before taking him back in to deal with the numerous fractures he had sustained.

Among those fractures were a broken nose, broken arm, a fractured wrist, a broken leg, fractured pelvis, numerous broken ribs and, most worrying of all was the two cracked vertebrae in his neck, two herniated discs and the pulled muscles that went along with them.

If the operations to fix and stabilize those broken bones went well, then he would be passed to the cosmetic surgery team who would do what they could for the deep lacerations that littered his skin, friction burns and the removal of any foreign objects that had entered his body due to flying shrapnel.

The nurse had kindly sent a porter in with hot drinks and sandwiches for them once the doctor had left but they remained untouched, none of them able to stomach the thought of eating. All they could do was watch the clock, counting down the minutes and, for some, praying to anyone they thought would listen. They bargained, they made promises, everything that could possibly help.

They had lost too many people in their family already, their grandfather and mother on the same day, their mothers parents a few years later and then, most recently, their father. The thought of losing another person, one so integral to their lives, was too horrible to even contemplate.

“He’ll be fine,” Scott said out loud, feeling the need to break the silence, knowing exactly what his family were thinking because he’d undoubtedly been having the same thoughts. “It’s Gordon, nothing keeps him down for long.”

“He’s made it this far,” John agreed. “I saw the report on the hydrofoil and-”

“Wait, how did you see that?” Virgil asked, happy to be distracted.

“I...well...I have my ways,” John stammered, his face slightly flushed, refusing to look at them.

“John?” Scott’s tone said it all.

John sighed defeately. “I wanted to know exactly what happened, I might have hacked into the accident report that WASP submitted an hour ago.”

“I can’t believe you did that!” Virgil groaned. Honestly, John was supposed to be the brother that he didn’t worry about, because it obviously wasn’t Gordon or Scott.

“I can,” Scott said, glaring at his younger brother who stared right back, undeterred by the look that had had many a young air force recruit shaking at the knees.

“Are you telling me you don’t want to read it?” John asked innocently, waving his phone temptingly in his brother's direction.

“No, of course not, that’s highly illegal and-”

John wiggled the phone one last time.

“Give it here,” Scott growled, leaning over to snatch the phone. “Just to see if there is anything we can blame them for.”

“Of course,” John agreed placidly. “That was the only reason I looked.”

Virgil tried to hold in the small snort of laughter that bubbled up, feeling that it would be highly inappropriate, but his grandmother caught his eye, smiling softly.

Sally reached for one of the now cold cups of coffee that had been provided and, as always taking their cues from her, Virgil did the same.

“Eat up, boys,” Sally instructed, nodding to the plates of sandwiches. “When that boy comes through, and I’ve no doubt that he will, he’s going to need our strength. He’ll have a lot to deal with and we’re going to be there for him.”

“Yes, Grandma,” they agreed, dutifully reaching for a sandwich each. She was right, their brother was a fighter, he was a Tracy after all, there was no way on this earth or beyond that he would let something like this take him out.

-x-

The first thing Gordon noticed when he regained consciousness was the fact that his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like the inside of a hamster cage and he couldn’t seem to work up any spit. He concentrated hard and tried to swallow a couple of times but something was stopping him.

He tried to lift his arm to touch his mouth but that one tiny movement was enough to wake up his body as well as his mind. Pain the likes of which he had never felt before engulfed him from head to toe, not one part of him seemed to be free of it. Even his eyeballs hurt. He couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped his nose and, when he tried to speak, to call out for any kind of help at all, he was once again hampered.

“Hey, hey, you’re OK, just calm down for a second, let me get a doctor,” someone said, their voice soothing and gentle, as was the cool hand they placed on his forehead. A buzzer sounded somewhere nearby and he forced his eyes open to see what was happening.

“Try not to talk or move,” said a new voice that was accompanied by a blurry face. “You were in an accident and you’re in hospital. You’ve been through a lot but you’re responding really well, you’ve got a breathing tube but your lungs seem to be working fine so just sit tight for a few minutes and we’ll see about getting that out for you.”

Gordon allowed himself to relax as best he could as the first person to have spoken returned.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

He nodded as best he could with what felt like a neck brace holding him still and even that little movement hurt. How could something as simple as moving his head take so much energy? How could it be such an effort?

“I’ll just give your epidural a little top up, you’ll soon feel better. We had to reduce your medication a little to bring you round and it's always a bit of a balancing act to get the right amount to keep someone comfortable.”

He, Gordon could tell it was a male now, was as good as his word and soon the aching in his body dulled from a screaming roar to a low rumble, far more manageable than it had been before.

“I’m Doctor Clark,” another new voice announced, introducing himself. “I was your surgeon and I’m here to see about getting that tube out of you, but I need to just check you over first, is that alright? Don’t try to nod, just lift your hand or even a finger if that’s all you can do.”

Gordon tried to nod anyway but gave up and commanded his right hand to move, finding it a little easier now that he could barely feel it. The doctor could do whatever he needed to, as long as he got that damn tube out of him and let him have a drink.

Dr Clark checked the readouts, made him breathe deeply a number of times, listened to his chest and, after attaching a suction device to the end of his tube, made him cough a few times to clear his lungs, then listened to his chest again.

“OK, you’re sounding good, can you just open your mouth for me?”

Gordon did as he was told and the doctor suctioned away with little moisture he’d managed to produce with his coughing, cut away the tape holding the tube in place and took hold of the end.

“I’m just going to deflate the air cuff inside, you might feel a small easing of pressure but don’t worry if you can’t.”

Gordon felt nothing but assumed that the doctor had done as he said he would.

“I need you to take two deep breaths for me and then when I tell you, I need you to give me a couple of good coughs, can you do that?”

Gordon attempted a thumbs up as nodding or moving his head much was making him dizzy, but he couldn’t move enough to do so and had to settle for just a brief one finger lift.

“Alright, deep breaths, one...and two...and now cough, nice big cough…”

As Gordon coughed the doctor tugged gently on the tube. He felt it slide up his throat, hitting his tonsils on the way out, making him gag and cough as he fought to keep calm.

“All done,” the doctor praised, and immediately an oxygen mask was slapped over his nose and mouth, easing his breathing just a little. “You did good, how do you feel?”

Gordon tried to swallow, to speak but his throat felt like it was on fire and all he could do was croak.

“Mouth dry?”

He coughed again, wincing at the pain in his throat.

“We can’t let you drink yet, but we can try to make you a little more comfortable.”

The nurse took his mask off again and inserted something wet into his mouth which she swirled around, coating the inside of his mouth. It felt horrible, like a wet slug rolling around in there, but it at least gave his parched tongue a little relief, although it was nowhere near enough.

“What happened?” he rasped after clearing his throat a few times and drinking a little more.

“You’ve been in an accident, but you’re safe now,” Dr Clark told him.

Gordon frowned, although the action made his head hurt. “Was I...mission?” He must have been doing something, there was no way he could have any kind of accident of this magnitude on his island home with his family present… his thoughts skidded to a halt.

“Family?” he managed to whisper, his eyes darting around the room. Had something happened to them? Had they been in a plane somewhere?

“They are all in the relatives room, waiting for you to wake up,” the nurse told him.

“They...OK?”

“Yes, they weren’t involved,” the nurse answered, obviously used to the way that patients' minds could work. Gordon closed his eyes, relaxing now that he knew his family were safe. That meant that he must have been doing something with his unit.

“Team?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry?” the nurse obviously couldn’t decipher that one.

“My team...hurt?”

“Oh, no, it was just you.”

That gave him a little peace of mind, knowing that no one else had been hurt, but that still begged the question of what the hell had he been up to?

“What happened...to me?

“Some kind of boat crash,” Dr Clark explained, looking up from the notes he was adding to the tablet at the end of his bed. “I didn’t ask too many details, I just got to work. I patch up people, not machinery.”

“Boat?”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “I hear your family are rather anxious to see you, would you feel up to seeing one of them?”

Gordon nodded as hard as he was able, even though he’d been told not to. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to see a familiar face.

-x-

“He’s awake,” the nurse told the waiting Tracys who had become an almost permanent fixture in the relatives room over the last ten days. Sometimes there would be just one of them, more often than not only two, but now there were six of them waiting with baited breath to find out the news.

A sigh of relief rippled around the room as they all let out the breaths they had been holding.

“Can we see him?”

“Is he talking?”

“Does he remember anything?”

The questions came thick and fast as they often did. Grace had gotten used to one or more of them popping up without any notice and demanding information. They had managed to pull some major strings and gotten hold of his medical records, how she did not know, and had sat there poring over them until they knew as much about his case and treatment as she did. The grandmother, it transpired, was a retired surgeon that still kept her hand in now and then, and so she had taken it upon herself to pelt them with questions on an hourly basis when she was there.

“Yes, you can see him,” Grace started, picking the easiest question to answer, clearing her throat to get their attention back when they broke out in excited chattering. “But only one at a time. He’s been through an ordeal and he’s not strong enough to deal with too much excitement.”

“Only one?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, just one,” Grace insisted, giving them that look they referred to as her matron glare.

They argued back and forth for a few moments, something she’d noticed they did a lot, before coming to their decision.

Grace led Mrs Tracy into the private room where her Grandson rested. In the brief time that she had been gone it seemed that Gordon had drifted off to sleep again, something that would happen quite often over the next few days as his body rested and the drugs that were keeping him pain free did their job.

“I’ll just sit here and wait,” Sally told Grace, using the same no nonsense tone that Grace herself used with difficult patients and she knew it would be useless to argue.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Grace said, giving in gracefully.

“Thank you, dear.”

-x-

Gordon didn’t know how long he’d slept for, or if he’d even slept at all. His mind was fuzzier than his first hangover and he had no clue if it was night or day. There were no curtains open in the room he was in, no hint of an outside world, just the clinical bleakness of the white ceiling and the ever present beeping of the machines monitoring him.

Thankfully he was still floating on a blissfully cloud of oblivion, feeling detached from every part of his body, like it didn’t even belong to him. He coughed to clear his throat, his mouth feeling ever so dry once again.

He tried to turn his head, to lift his arm to reach for the glass of wet swabs that had been there earlier, but another hand beat him to it, it’s arm encased in a familiar purple velour fabric.

“Gr-grandma?”

“Right here, son” she said softly, aware that he might not appreciate her speaking too loudly. She nodded for him to open his mouth and with practiced ease, swirled his weird water lollipop around his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

“Better?” she asked. “Had enough for now?” Seeing his small nod she set the glass aside and turned back to face him. “You had us all very worried, young man.”

“Sorry,” he rasped, wincing when it hurt his throat. “What...ha-happened? They said...boat.”

“You don’t remember? Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“You were test driving the new hydrofoil for the experiential watercrafts division.”

“I was?” he paused to cough, the action pulling at his chest, a sharp stabbing pain shooting through him from his ribs and abused lung. “Guess I didn’t do too well with it, huh?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you did,” she assured him.

“How long was I out?” he asked. The more he was talking the easier it was getting, although his throat still felt like he’d been swallowing razor blades. He must have been asleep a good few hours to feel this weak and woosey.

Sally took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Sweetheart, you were in a coma for ten days.”

Gordon blinked, unable to fully comprehend what she had just said.

“Ten...ten days?” How badly had he been hurt? He tried to lift his head, tried to look down at his body to assess the damage. A gentle hand on his chest stopped him from straining too much, but not before he registered the fact that both of his arms were in casts, so too was his leg and, now that he wiggled, he could feel something like a large stiff belt around his stomach and between his legs. His eyes widened in shock, his eyes darting down to his midsection, his face turning white with fright when he saw the bandages. Had...had something happened to little Gordon? Oh God, please say no!

“How bad?” he demanded to know and, although his voice was shaking, Sally knew he needed to hear the truth. Knowing it would be better coming from her she didn’t mince her words, quickly and clinically rattling off his list of injuries and the treatments he’d had so far.

“Quick bone fusion for the right arm, left wrist and left leg. They reset your nose at the same time. Your pelvis wasn’t as badly damaged as they had feared and didn’t need pinning, just a little lasering, though it is immobilised for no-”

“Just my pelvis? Nothing...else?” he winced, not wanting to talk about such things to his grandma but needing to know all the same.

“Just your pelvis,” she assured him with a knowing smile.

“What else?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief at the news that he was still whole...down stairs.

“They repaired the torn ligaments in your shoulder, have immobilised your neck due to two cervical fractures of the vertebrae-”

“That’s not...I’m not...can I walk?” he tried to wiggle his toes and thought he felt movement but he couldn’t see to be sure.

“It’s not paralysing, no. No damage from that at all.”

“What else?”

“Apart from the fractures you’ve got two herniated discs and pulled muscles there too.”

Gordon gestured with one finger for her to continue.

“You’ve got a number of cracked ribs from the CPR-”

“CPR?”

“You hit the water face down, from what we were told it was due to your helmet filling up from a crack in the visor.”

“So I basically drowned out there?”

Sally nodded, keeping her eyes focused on his. With anyone else she would have fudged a little, maybe broken it to them a little more gently and eased them in. But Gordon was, first and foremost, a Tracy, and they liked the facts, all of them, because that made it easier to fight back. And she had zero doubts that he would do just that.

Gordon took a deep breath trying to wrap his head around all the information she was laying out for him. He’d taken it all in so far, like it was happening to someone else, but that, the knowledge that he could have lost his life to the thing he loved most, the sea...well that was just too hard to think about.

“And the rest?” he asked, wanting to know all there was, no nasty surprises in his future.

“Depressed skull fracture, fractured eye socket that will heal on its own, punctured lung from your ribs and the CPR, a particle splenectomy from a reputed spleen and a repaired liver laceration. You’ve also had a number of stautures and some skin grafts already but I’m afraid you might still need more.”

“Is that all? One more stamp and I could have gotten a free cup of coffee.”

Sally didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry when he made such a bad, but totally Gordon, attempt at a joke. There had been a moment, during that long, long first day of his accident, that she had honestly thought that she might never hear his voice again, let alone have him cracking a joke less than four hours after waking from a coma. It was more than she had ever dared to dream but she knew from experience that, when it came to her grandsons, nothing was impossible.

A noise near the door made them both glance over. The sight of Scott’s face pressed against the window greeted them.

“I guess I’m popular today.”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” Sally agreed. “I could do with stretching my legs, so I’ll let him in. He's been waiting a long time.”

-x-

A steady stream of family trickled in one after the other to see their miracle sibling, but soon he was yawning, dropping off midconversation and when the nurses had their shift change the Tracys were ushered out and told to come back the next day.

Now he was sitting there, alone, unable to get up, unable to do anything to amuse himself, left alone with his thoughts. As was so often the way, he’d been tired and napping on and off while his family had been there, but the moment they had left he’d developed some kind of second wind energy rush and was now wide awake.

He tried closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep, he’d tried counting sky squids like his mother had told him to do as a child, he’d tried thinking about the most boring of Brains’ lectures, but nothing had worked.

Everytime he tried to focus on boring things or to clear his mind in order to relax, his brain insisted on replaying back the information that Grandma had given him.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that he was lucky to even be alive after a wreck like he’d had. He’d forced John and Scott, against their better judgement, to tell him all they knew about the accident. He’d needed to know. He needed it to try to remember exactly what it was that had happened to him and how it had gone so wrong.

The lack of memories was disturbing, to know that something had gone wrong, horrendously wrong but to have no recollection of it, it was beyond frustrating. He had a body that was effectively broken, one that, according to his doctor, would take upwards of a year to fully heal from, if such a thing was even possible. He’d been warned, as had they all, that the likelihood of him having complications was all too real and that he had better prepare himself for it.

It wasn’t just the things that he had been told and the prospect of months of painful rehabilitation that was weighing heavily on his mind, it was the thing that no one had spoken of. It was the fact that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his career, the one that he had worked so hard to achieve, would be over.

Oh, he’d get an honourable discharge on medical grounds. But he'd be leaving in a whisper rather than the blaze of glory that his father and then his brother had done before him. He’d been on track for greatness, just as they had. He’d been the stand out star of his recruitment year, his olympic training and subsequent fitness levels and endurance had given him a fantastic platform from which to dive in with. He’d quickly risen up the ranks, making a name for himself as one of youngest but brightest in his class.

His desire to learn as well as his passion for marine biology and conservation had led to him taking a slightly different path to his fellow recruits. Many had passed on the offer, thinking it too boring but he had jumped at the chance to spend a year in command of his own bathescape studying underwater farming methods with a small but dedicated crew that had quickly become like family to him.

Any emergency at that depth could have the potential to turn into a matter of life or death and, when one of their generators had malfunctioned, taking along with it half their air filtration works, putting strain on the remaining one, they had found themselves plunged into just such a situation.

He’d had to think fast and stay calm. They had pulled up the schematics and managed to bypass the fault on a temporary basis while waiting for a supply of spare parts to be delivered. He had led his team well, he had kept them from panicking and kept the mission on track. And, in doing so, saved the research grant budget the expense of failing and having to surface to try again the next year when the migration season started again.

His determination, dedication, resourcefulness and persistence had been noted, along with his ability to stay calm under pressure. It had gained him a promotion and fast tracked his offer to join the team on the experimental watercraft division, something he’d always dreamed of.

Now it seemed that that dream had well and truly come back to bite him on the ass in the form of the hydrofoil that had apparently just wrecked all his hopes for the future in one fell swoop. What was the point of anything anymore?

A wave of hopelessness washed over him like a tidal wave, stealing his breath and the last of his control. The brave face he’d been holding on to all day while in the presence of his family faded away, giving way to heartbroken tears.

“Why?” he asked out loud to no one in particular, was he talking to God, to whatever guardian angel that had been by his side that day or to whatever sick twisted fate it was that had chosen him to pick on. “Why did you let me live?”

-x-

“It’s been a week and he’s barely made any progress,” Scott sighed to John as they walked the short distance to Gordon’s room in the recovery wing from the roof where they had been given permission to land.

They were the ones on shift for today's stint of what they were all secretly calling ‘Squid Watch’. Now that he was out of immediate danger they had given up the hotel rooms they had occupied for the first two weeks and had begun commuting from the island for the designated visiting hours. They had learnt that the freedom to come and go as they pleased and to stay for long portions of the day had gone once Gordon had been moved from the ICU to the more cheerful surrounds of the high dependency ward.

“Still?”

Scott nodded. “Nurse Donna told Virgil that he was barely eating, just enough to stave off the threat of another tube down his nose, he hasn’t even attempted any of the bed bound exercises he’s been given and he’s refusing to see the Physio to discuss his long term plans.”

“Stubborn brat,” John huffed.

“Well, he is a Tracy,” Scott shrugged, unable to do much else. “You know that nothing can make us do something we don’t want to.”

“Then we have to make him want to,” John replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, right,” Scott scoffed. “We’ll just walk right on in as normal and say ‘Hey, Gordo, we know that your life as you knew it is basically over but hey, you’re still here. I mean, you can’t do anything you want to and you’re stuck in that bed for God knows how long but eat up your greens, there’s a good boy.’ That’ll go down real well.”

“Obviously we won’t say that,” John scowled, his tone telling Scott that he was being as much of an idiot as Gordon at that moment in time. “It’s obvious that he’s lost his drive, he’s feeling hopeless, which is perfectly understandable.”

“Yes,” Scott sighed, “it is.”

“So we need to give him something to bring him hope, something to work hard for.”

“You’d think the thought of walking again would be enough for him.”

“Would it be for you?” John asked quietly. “Think about it. If you had crashed one of those jets you tested, and you had ended up as hurt as he is, or worse, and you were looking down a long tunnel to an unknown future, one that very likely, won’t match up to the one you had mapped out in your head, would you have any desire to move towards it?”

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again without speaking. He wanted to say yes, of course he would, because any future was better than not having one. But he tried hard to never lie to himself or his family.

“Probably not,” he admitted quietly. It was true, if he had crashed and was facing the prospect of never flying again, of never seeing the ground vanishing beneath him as he soared up through the clouds into a brilliant blue sky, he would find it hard to accept it and carry on.

“So we need to show him what he’s missing,” John continued. “I think we need to show him the Silverfin.”

Scott sucked in a breath, letting it out through pursed lips in a long whistle.

“That's risky.”

“I know.”

“It could seriously backfire, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware of that fact, yes.”

“Because if he sees it, if he listens to our plans and then ends up unable to join in as he’d want, that could make things even worse for him.”

“I know. But, as you just said, he’s a Tracy.”

“It could be the push he needs,” Scott conceded.

“It will be the push he needs,” John promised. “We know him, we know that he can do anything he puts his mind to.”

“He’s stronger than he thinks,” Scott agreed. “Stronger than any of us give him credit for. Look at how much he’s achieved in what, just over two years in WASP? He’s done more in his career than many could ever dream of let alone hope to achieve.”

“He has,” John started walking again and Scott had no choice but to follow along or get left behind. You didn’t argue with John when he was on a mission.

“You heard Grandma, this is the most crucial part of his recovery,”John continued, assuming correctly that Scott would keep up with him. “The first steps. This is make or break time. His injuries are severe, yes, but not hopeless, not by a long shot. People have recovered from worse, he just needs to push himself to do it. It doesn’t matter how well they put him back together if he doesn’t work on holding it all in place.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am,” John shrugged, no hint of boasting in his tone, just John saying the facts as he saw them.

“Yeah, right,” Scott laughed, because he was his brother and everyone knew that you didn’t ever admit to your younger siblings being right more than once in a week if you could help it. “We’re really going to do this?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

Gordon was lying down in bed when they walked in, not too unexpected given the circumstances, it wasn’t like they had been expecting to see him doing much at all, but they had hoped he’d at least be sitting up since the doctor’s had cleared him for gentle movements.

“Hey, Squid boy,” Scott greeted as cheerfully as he could. “How you doing today?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy, I took a little trip to the beach, caught some waves and then I decided I needed a nap,” Gordon drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“We told you we’d be coming,” John answered, picking up the tablet from its holder at the end of Gordon’s bed to study it.

“And I told you not to brother, it’s not like I’m the most entertaining company at the moment and I don’t feel like having visitors,” Gordon closed his eyes again, intending on ignoring them until they went away.

“Have you eaten much today?” Scott asked, ignoring his brother’s blatant dismissal of them.

“Yes.”

“It says here you refused breakfast, you only had a yogurt for lunch and didn’t complete your order form for your evening meal,” John told him, while busily flicking through the notes.

“Hey!” Gordon opened his eyes again to glare at his brother. “Do you mind? That’s my private medical records, it’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is.” John finished his reading and returned the tablet to its rightful spot.

“Gordo, you have to eat,” Scott sighed, sinking into one of the visitor's chairs that sat beside the bed. “How can you expect to get your strength back if you aren’t fueling your body properly?”

“It’s not like I could do anything with the strength if I had it,” Gordon growled out. “I’m stuck in this bed for the foreseeable future. So tell me, oh great and powerful, Scott, just what do I need to do anything for?”

John glanced at Scott, who nodded, answering the unspoken question. Time to enact their plan. He shrugged off his backpack and opened it, pulling out his tablet. With a few quick swipes he found what he was looking for and held it up for Gordon to see.

“What’s that?”

“Our secret project,” Scott told him.

“I can’t see it from there, bring it closer.”

“No,” John stayed right where he was at the foot of the bed. “Sit up and look for yourself.”

Gordon huffed and stubbornly stayed horizontal, but his eyes kept straying to the tablet. He could barely see it, but what he could see looked vaguely familiar. Curiosity and just a touch of boredom won out.

He fumbled with the bed controls, located the remote and pushed the button to lift the head of the bed until he was brought to a sitting position.

“There, happy? Now let me see it.”

John moved closer and offered the tablet.

Gordon automatically reached out for it with his left hand, forgetting that it was encased in an air cast due to the fractured wrist. Growling in frustration he tried again with the right and took the tablet. Unable to hold it with only one hand he lifted his ‘good’ leg which, although unbroken, was covered in bruising, none of which made it an easy task but eventually he was able to prop the tablet against his thigh and scroll with his right hand.

His eyes widened as he took in the images displayed there.

“This is a Silverfin, isn't it?”

“Yep,” Scott grinned.

“But WASP didn’t continue the development, they deemed them too small and slow to be of any use and decided to focus on the Stingray.”

“We know, but Brains saw the potential in her that they didn’t. She might not have been of any use for patrolling the seas but for moving around them like we’d need, she’d be perfect.”

“He’s adapting her?” Gordon’s eyes scanned the pictures, the first one showing the Silverfin in her original form, half completed and scrapped, the funding and enthusiasm for her having dried up. The second showed her to clearly be in some kind of dry dock that was being used as a workshop. She’d been stripped back to little more than a shell, some engine parts and a turbine or two. The third and last pictures showed what looked to be new panels being test fitted and an adapted nose cone. Instead of the elongated nose she’d had originally there sat the cutest little snub nose he’d ever seen, reminding him of an upturned pigs snout.

"With Virgil's help, yes," John said.

"Why? Has he decided to branch out into contract work now that the work on the space station is almost complete?"

"Nope," John answered.

“Then what's this for?” he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes feasting on every little detail he could see. She was barely anything at the moment, but damn she could be beautiful if she was given the love and attention she had always deserved.

“For you,” Scott said quietly. John had been right, the way that Gordon had gone from apathy to interest in a matter of seconds was proof of that.

“Me?” Gordon scoffed. Even though his brother's tone had been completely serious he still couldn't believe it wasn't some kind of sick joke. “You’d need a pretty big bathtub to float her in, because that's the only kind of boat I’ll ever be around again.”

“With that attitude it will,” John said mildly, taking the second seat next to Scott.

“So do something about it,” Scott pushed. “Look at her, just look.” He stabbed a finger at the screen. “That there will be the next in our fleet, and she’ll need a pilot.”

“Me? You seriously think I’d ever be able to do anything like that, while I’m like this? You’re crazy.” Gordon pushed the tablet away, not wanting to look at it any more. That was the unobtainable right there. That was yet another reminder of what could have been but never would.

“No, not while you’re like that,” Scott sighed, sounding defeated even to his own ears.

“So do something about it,” John said curtly. “It’s your choice, we're just hoping you make the right one.” Without saying anything else he took the tablet and placed it on the bedside table. “Come on, Scott, let’s go and get a coffee before we head home.”

Scott looked from Gordon to John, taking in the frustration and sadness on one and then the calm dismissive demeanor of the other as John turned to the door.

"I told you it wasn't worth you coming," Gordon sneered, lowering the bed again.

"You're always worth it," Scott promised him before following John out the door.

The fast food restaurant just offsite wasn't the best and the coffee was far below their usual standards but it was welcome after the day they had had.

Scott and Virgil had been called out early in the morning and their relatively simple rescue had turned out to be far more complicated than they had anticipated. When they had returned they were tired, filthy and aching all over. Scott had come straight from the shower, leaving Kayo on call with Virgil, and he and John had left for the hospital.

Now their attempts at motivating their little brother had fallen flatter than one of Grandma's cakes and they were both feeling like they had done more harm than good.

"Did we just screw up?" Scott asked quietly, playing with the rim of his cup but not making any move to drink from it.

"Possibly," John sighed, sipping his own drink and making a face at the taste. "Only time will tell. We've done our best, it's up to him now. He's the only one that can decide if he's going to fight or give up entirely."

They lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It had been so hard the first time they had walked in to see Gordon after his first life saving operation. His face had been a puffy, bruised mess from his broken nose and fractured eye socket, his eyes almost swollen shut.

He'd had a bandage around his head where they had shaved off some of his hair to examine his skull fracture and close the wound there. Both of his arms and one of his legs in air casts to keep them stable until the next day and his torso a mass of bandages and blood tinged gauze from a combination of lacerations and the two operation sites from fixing his spleen and liver.

He'd looked so small, not in stature maybe, but in energy, his aura if you will. So still and so quiet, something that Gordon only ever was when he was asleep, and that didn't happen very often with his tendency of mumbling in his sleep and turning a full rotation of the bed in a single night.

Then he had been silent, the only sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the whoosh, hiss of the machine that was providing him with oxygen and regulating his breathing as he slept the deep sleep of the heavily sedated.

Over the next few days they had sat in the relatives room and prayed every time his tired body had undergone yet another operation, the surgeons doing all they could to fix his body for him.

Now they were hoping and praying that his mind could be fixed too.

"What was that?" Scott said when a beep broke the quiet, clearly looking for a distraction.

"My phone," John answered, pulling it out to check it.

"Who is it?" Scott asked, seeing the confused expression on his brother's face.

"I apparently sent myself an email."

"Huh?"

The confusion quickly morphed into a wide smile as John's eyes scanned the words.

"It was sent from my tablet."

"And?"

"It reads 'Bring me up a burger and fries when you've finished your coffees, then you can tell me more about this Silverfin."

-x-

The walk down to the hangars had never seemed to take as long as it was now. He knew it was down there, but he’d been banned from seeing anything of it since those first four pictures. It was supposed to be a surprise.

He’d tried to sneak in numerous times, he’d tried to hack into the files, he’d tried bribery, guilt tripping and sulking but nothing had worked.

He couldn't say that he minded, not really, because he knew it was there. He'd known that somewhere deep below their villa, in the center of their island, his baby had been taking shape. He’d not been allowed any input in the shape, the visuals or anything else to do with her design, but her functions, that he’d been allowed to have a say in.

Brains had spent countless hours on video calls with him, discussing everything that Gordon insisted his craft needed, from her dry tubes to her mechanical arms, the type of sonar she was using to the consoles and onboard technology. And he just knew she would be spectacular. WASP might have their Stingray, but he’d have his little Thunderbird, now dubbed Thunderbird Four after John’s space station had been upgraded and become a fully fledged craft itself, going from a stationary satellite to a fully maneuverable ship.

Sometimes the thought of his girl taking shape, waiting for him, had been the only thing keeping him going through his painful, exhausting and sometimes seemingly hopeless recovery process.

It hadn’t been easy, on either his mind or his body and he wasn't ashamed to admit that, for a significant portion of that time, he had been the worst patient ever. Once the initial excitement of the Silverfin development had worn off and he had been staring down the long tunnel of recovery to his still quite uncertain future, he'd had times where he hadn’t been sure that it was possible to regain even half of his previous physicality, let alone get back to the full strength that would be needed to be of any use to International Rescue.

He didn’t want to be a dead weight to his family, he didn’t want them to be picking up the slack of his inadequacies, to spend more of their time rescuing his ass than the people they were trying to help.

Depression wasn’t something he had ever considered as a possibility in his life. He was the upbeat one, the one that kept the spirits up of those around him, so to not even be able to rise a smile for himself…let’s just say that there had been some very dark moments over his long months of recovery where he had not recognised himself and hadn’t been sure that there would ever be a time when he felt happy again.

He’d wanted to give up, he’d been so close to it so many times, yet somewhere, buried deep inside, covered in dust and rust, nestled a tiny nugget of steely determination. He’d found that nugget and chipped away at its bonds, had polished it and nurtured it as best he could until finally he had succeeded.

His recovery list had been almost as extensive as his injuries. He’d undergone all the common therapies such as targeted physiotherapy, smaller follow on surgeries, several aborted attempts at hydrotherapy and a rather surprising foray into hippotherapy, along with daily strengthening exercises.

But all of that had been just about bearable, physical pain and endurance was almost second nature to him, it was the mental side that had been the hardest to push past. Slowly, slowly, day by day he had become physically stronger while growing mentally weaker.

The more his body healed, the longer he was out of hospital, the more of his memories he'd regained, and with them came the darkness. Counselling had been arranged, PTSD had been diagnosed and he’d faced yet another uphill battle to rediscover the person he truly was.

He sighed, stopping for a moment to rest before he entered the hangar itself. Could he honestly say that he felt like himself again? The answer was no. No one could go through the trauma that he had suffered and not change in some way or another. No one could face death head on, shake it by the hand, politely decline its invitation and still be one hundred present themselves.

You need to find your new normal, you need to find yourself again. That had been the words that his third therapist had told him. Joel had been the only therapist he had clicked with, the only one that truly seemed to understand him and the way his brain worked, that or he was the only one to have bothered trying.

Finding your new normal, giving yourself permission to change, adapt and accept that something horrific had happened to you and that you would come out the other side a different person to the one that had gone in, that was to be expected. Joel had helped him see that, along with his family, friends and the medical staff that had supported him on his long, winding journey.

He’d gotten a little lost along the way a time or two, he’d back tracked, stopped to rest and had to drag himself back to his feet more times that he could count. But he’d done it. He hadn’t given up no matter how many times he had wanted to, no matter how many times he had been tempted to just roll over and let life continue to screw him over.

This was it, the moment of truth, the moment where he would sink or swim, the moment where he would decide once and for all if all his hard work had been worth it.

He took a deep breath and rounded the corner, leaving the shelter and protection of the tunnel corridor behind him, stepping into the hangars for the first time since he’d left the island 18 months ago, after his annual leave, preparing to return to WASP. 18 months that could be broken down into two months in the testing division, four months in hospital and twelve gruelling months of recovery. All leading up to this moment.

He walked in, Alan, Scott and John moving in formation to flank him, solid and dependable, as they had always been. They continued the distance as one, a close knit group that he knew would always have his back. The only one missing was Virgil.

“You ready, little bro?” on cue the booming bass of his brother’s voice came over the external speakers of Two to fill the hangar.

Knowing Virgil wouldn’t be able to hear him he settled for a double thumbs up. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, having to fight the urge to bounce up and down in excitement.

He heard the mechanical whirring as Two began her assent, lifting up on her support struts to reveal the door to the module, one that was painted with a big, white number Four. Slowly, almost as if it were happening in slow motion, the door lowered, creating the ramp way that the pod vehicles would descend.

His breath caught in his throat as the inside lights of the module turned on, revealing its contents.

“It’s...she’s....so yellow,” he stuttered, unable to think of anything else to say. There she was, his little bird, painted a bright, cheery yellow, her fin sticking bolt upright like a happy tail. The same little snub nose that had so enchanted him was now fitted out with high powered lights that would allow him to see in the darkest of depths. She was bright, she was gorgeous, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was…

“Perfect,” he breathed.

He couldn’t look away, not to take in the happy and somewhat relieved smiles on his siblings faces, not to look at Brains who seemed to have magically materialised by his side to start giving him a technical rundown, not for anything.

Nothing could compare to this.

“So, was she worth it?” Scott asked as Gordon reached out to lovingly stroke the curved perfection of one engine.

Gordon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The past year might have been the worst of his life, he knew that he would carry those memories with him forever, that he would continue to dream of waking up in that hospital bed again. He knew that things would never be the same for him, he was forever changed but, out of the darkness of his worst memories there was his little sub of hope.

“This is the best day of my life,” he sighed to himself as he settled in her seat, feeling the way it seemed to mould to his body with his exact specifications. This feeling right here, this made it all worth it. And he knew that one day in the not too distant future someone out there would see a flash of bright yellow in the darkness and know that same feeling of hope. They would know that help was on the way.

Because that's what International Rescue did, they defied the odds, they did the impossible and they never gave up.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Gordon Tracy #grandma tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy

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