#sailor✧writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

mermaid reader and pirate/sailor sevika

sevika would be such a good pirate! she's ruthless and driven and really fucking smart, could you imagine her in one of those billowing white shirts??? i just nutted.

anyways, let's be cliche. it's so fun.

men and minors dni

you're out swimming when you come upon a shipwreck. judging by the wreckage still in flames, it had happened pretty recently. you swim closer, eager to see what kind of treasures were on board. as you approach the debris, you hear a groan. you freeze, your eyes scanning the water for a sailor as you sink into the water, just your eyes above the waves.

it's been a while since you had a sailor, and human is always a nice treat when you've been feasting on fish for a while. you bite your lip as you start slowly swimming around the various floating barrels and shrapnel.

there's a few dead men bobbing on the surface of the sea face down. you scrunch your nose in disgust as you navigate the bodies, swimming toward the moaning that's echoing over the waves. humans only taste good when they're still warm.

as the last remaining yards of the main mast sink below the surface, a loud, animalistic scream sounds out from behind you. you whip around. your eyes catch on a moving figure. as you swim closer, you're eyes adjust, and you realize that it's a human hugging onto a bobbing barrel. you grin, your sharp fangs descending from your gums as you duck beneath the surface and swim under the barrel.

two feet below the floating human, you can only see their flailing legs. you smile. human legs are so strange looking. you reach out to run one of your long, sharp nails down their pant leg, laughing when they start to panic, flailing around in the water. "what the fuck was that?!" you hear their garbled shout out above the water. you giggle, then wrap your hand around their ankle. a loud shriek rings out and they nearly kick your face with their free leg. you dodge them and swim away, slowly rising to the surface behind where they're scrambling to straddle the barrel and get their body out of the water. you chuckle.

the sailor whips around to face you, and you both simultaneously gasp.

it's a woman, you think in shock. her breasts are heaving, and the thin white shirt she's wearing is doing nothing to conceal her chest now that it's soaked. her silver eyes are wild, her black hair is plastered to her face, her brown skin is dotted with drops of water. a pretty woman.

"fuck." she whispers. you giggle again, swimming closer to her as she scrabbles at the barrel in fear. "fuck fuck fuck." she curses. you stop ten feet away from her.

"i've never seen a human woman before." you say. she freezes.

"y-you can talk?" she asks. you giggle. humans always ask that.

"what are you doing out here?" you ask. the woman blinks at you.

"are... are you gonna kill me?" she asks. you shrug and smirk.

"dunno." you say honestly. "never killed a woman before."

it's silent for a moment. then, "aren't you supposed to sing?" she asks. you burst into laughter.

"only if i was trying to lure you. but... you don't really have anywhere else to go, do you?" the woman studies you and you study her. "you're very pretty." you say. the human laughs. what a lovely sound. "what are you doing out here?" you ask her again.

"i... i was captain of this ship." she says. you blink.

"women can sail?" you ask. she scowls at you.

"'course we can." she grunts. "they just don't want us to."

you consider this, looking the woman up and down. she's shivering now, the shock and adrenaline wearing off. "doesn't look like it went very well." you say, gesturing to the floating bits of ship surrounding you. she growls.

"that's not my fuckin' fault! my navigator got scurvy!" she spits. you swim closer to her and she shuts up, gulping. you frown.

"are you scared of me?" you ask. she huffs a laugh.

"obviously." she says. you frown.

"why?"

"fuckin' look at you!" she says, gesturing her free hand at you. you look down at your body. "gills and fangs and shit! i thought mermaids were a fuckin' myth!"

you pout, sucking your fangs back up into your gums. "there. better?" you ask. the woman shrugs.

"depends."

"on?"

"are you gonna kill me?" she asks. you grin.

"dunno." you say again. she groans. "what's your name?" you ask.

"sevika." she says.

"how'd you get into sailing?"

"dad was a fisherman." she grunts.

"which flag do you sail under?" you ask. you've had horrible experiences with sailors who wave the flag with the red X on the white sheet, a few of their ships tried to hunt you for weeks. ships that fly the red X on the blue sheet carry tasty sailors, always fattened up and full of liquor. the woman before you chuckles.

"none of 'em." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her. "i... technically was not the owner of that vessel." she says, gesturing to the bottom of the sea where her ship has sunk. you grin.

"you're a pirate!?" you gasp. she shrugs.

"i guess."

"a woman pirate!?" you ask again. she chuckles at your excitement.

"yeah." she says. you swim in an excited little circle before reaching your hand out to sevika. she flinches away from it and you pout.

"come on. i'm not gonna kill you." you say, shaking your hand at her. she eyes you warily.

"right. i'm sure you say that to all the boys before you sink those freaky teeth into their throats." she says. you grin and giggle.

"well yeah, but you're not a boy." you say. she hesitates, still, and you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "fine. i'll just leave you here to starve to death. or maybe the dehydration will get you first. you'll start drinking the saltwater to quench your thirst and that'll be it. or maybe the sun will just cook you to a crisp when it rises." you say, slowly swimming away from the pirate. panic starts creeping over her face as you speak, and when you dip beneath the water, you hear her scream.

"wait! come back!" she shouts. you giggle and pop up six inches away from her. she jumps in surprise, her grip on the barrel slipping, and she starts flailing as she begins to sink. you quickly hook one of your arms under hers, pulling her back up to the surface and holding her as she gasps and sputters for air. "thank you." she says, as she clings to you. you smile.

the woman falls asleep in your arms as you swim her to a small deserted island nearby. on the shore, with half your body still in the water, you gently tend to her wounds, cleaning them out with saltwater before dressing them with strips of her shirt. she shifts and mumbles in her sleep, but doesn't wake. you admire her for an hour or two, pressing your ear to her chest to listen to her lungs, poking at her legs and studying her toes. when the sun begins to rise, you spend an hour catching and killing fish for her, dumping the headless bodies into a pile beside her sleeping body. it occurs to you that humans drink freshwater, so you begin to swim around the perimeter of the island, looking for a river or stream where you can collect some water for your new human friend.

when you return to sevika with a sack you'd made out of leaves filled with fresh water over your shoulder, she's starting to wake up. you claw up onto the beach to lay beside her, watching her twitching eyelids blink awake.

"you're real." she grunts. you smile. "thought i imagined you." she says, sitting up. there's sand in her hair, and you reach up to brush it out.

"your hair's so soft." you say as you twirl a lock of it between your fingers. sevika looks around her, taking in the island and the supplies you'd piled by her legs. she looks back down at you.

"you brought me here?" she asks. you nod. she blinks. "and the fish?"

"figured you needed to eat." you say. you nod to the freshwater. "got you water too." you say. "the kind you can drink, i mean."

sevika laughs, slightly hysterical as she takes in the scene. you frown.

"this is like... fifty pounds of fish." she says. you blink at her.

"yeah?"

"that's way too much fish." she says. you pout.

"i thought you'd be nice. you're a woman pirate for fucks sake, you're supposed to be cool! but all you've done since we met is call me scary lookin' and insult my fish!" you say as you start to shove yourself back down the shore and into the water. "i saved your life! and i didn't eat any of the fish i got for you. i mean, except for the heads. and i brought you to land and everything! you're fuckin' heavy, you know, and i swam you all the way here! and i haven't insulted your freaky ass legs once!"

you feel better back in the water. you duck your head under and swim ten feet away from the shore, twirling in a figure eight as you refresh your dehydrated body. when you breach the water, sevika's waist deep and scrambling, her hands reaching out as she searches for you in the waves.

she spots you and her shoulders slump in relief. you back away as she starts trudging towards you.

"would you quit swimmin' away, asshole? i'm trying to get to you!" she shouts. you roll your eyes at her but stop swimming, allowing her to doggypaddle over to you.

"you should be careful. the tide'll sweep you out and then you'll be lost at sea aga--mmph!"

sevika cuts you off with a kiss.

you've never kissed anyone before. some of the girls in your pack like to play with their food before they eat-- pressing kisses to enchanted sailors before tearing their throats out-- so you've seen it before. you just never got the hype.

at least not until now. because now, sevika, the pretty woman pirate, is pressing her chapped lips against yours, her warm human hands gently cupping your jaw as she hums against your mouth. now, you feel a whirlpool in your stomach. now, you feel an altogether different kind of hunger for human flesh in your chest. you wanna taste her, so you dart your tongue out to brush against her lips. she moans against you, one of her hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you against her chest. you shudder in her arms. she's strong.

sevika pulls away with a gasp after a while, and you hold onto her shoulders to keep steady as a dizzy feeling swirls in your head.

"i'm sorry." she says. "you're right. you've been nothing but nice to me and i've been a bitch. it's just a lot. i nearly died and then got rescued by a mermaid who chose to save my life and make me breakfast instead of singing me to my final sleep." she says. your eyes are locked on her lips, your tongue licking your own as you watch them move as she speaks. "you're beautiful." she says. "like... devastatingly beautiful. i can see why so many sailors would be allured by you." she says. you smile, your eyes flicking up to hers.

"we don't really eat that many humans, you know. before you guys had boats, our diet was mainly fish." you say. sevika grins.

"so... do you wanna eat some fish with me now?" she asks, gesturing to the tiny mountain of headless fish waiting on the beach. you bite your lip.

"promise you won't kill me and sell my body to scientists or something?" you ask. sevika laughs and kisses you again.

"yeah. 's long as you keep letting me kiss you." she whispers.

those terms seem pretty agreeable to you.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #this was soooooooo fun to write omg.#also in case ur wondering: u end up helping sevika hijack a new ship and build a new crew #sevika builds a giant tub on deck for u #and her crew and ur pack team up and start luring asshole sailors to their deaths #for u to eat and for sevika to rob #and u guys live happily ever after obvs.#dont ask me how the mechanics of mermaid sex works #i have no idea

174 notes · View notes

myfaveficrecs · 4 months

Text

Christmas Tradition

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (Darling)

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: Pure fluff

AN: Written for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge. My prompt was ornaments, and I chose to do something I haven't done before. I wrote for Bob! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.

“Still okay to meet at 6?”

Bob smiled while reading your text knowing your Christmas tradition would change after this year. In all honesty, he should have changed the tradition a couple of years ago but he always justified why he couldn’t do it just yet. Being on different sides of the country, deployments, being with your families in different states for the holidays, work schedules didn’t align, you both were too busy. But this year that changes.

“I can’t wait, Darling.”

“Going to pick out ornaments tonight?” Phoenix asked with a smile, catching a glimpse of her WSO’s phone while walking by.

“Yeah,” he blushed but could not seem to tamp down his grin. “I put the one for tonight in the tree already this morning after she left for work. I just have to wait a few more hours.”

“How are you feeling?”

“What’s the matter Baby on Board? Going to throw up again?” Hangman gave his traditional smirk while walking to his locker. Looking around, Bob realized the whole squad was in tow in the locker room now.

“Shut up, Bagman. He’s nervous enough without you adding to it.”

“Nervous about what?” Rooster chimed in. “You guys are just going to get your ornaments, right?”

“Wait, ornaments? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You usually are, Hangman.” Phoenix glared at the irritating pilot. She was not going to let him ruin this day for Bob.

“Every year, Bob and Darling go to a boutique in the town they are in for Christmas to pick out one new ornament each for their tree. The ornament is something that reminds them of each other or something that they did together that year.”

“Okay…and what makes today's nauseating display of affection any different from the other years?”

“First of all, it isn’t nauseating, it’s romantic. Secondly, Bob is officially making her part of the squad!”

Loud cheers and hands roughly shaking his shoulders made Bob turn an interesting shade of red, but the laugh that came out of him was pure joy. “She has to say yes first. I gotta get out of here and meet her. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With choruses of cheers and good luck, Bob rushed out to his truck, pulling out his phone to let her know he was on his way with a quick text. The closer he got to her, the less anxious he felt. She was the only thing other than being above the clouds that made him feel completely at peace. His Darling was his safe place, his home, his heart, and his soul. She was so deeply ingrained and embedded into his skin that he would never be rid of her if he tried. She was everything and he would make sure she knew it.

Pulling up to the little boutique decked out in all the garland, lights, and ornaments probably in the whole of San Diego he saw his little Darling already waiting for him at the front door, excitement all over her face. He may have started this tradition, but she made sure to treasure it and keep it exciting.

“There is my handsome man. How was work?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaving little kisses along his jaw, enjoying the light flush that started along his neck and was gradually making its way to his ears. The little prickles of the five o’clock shadow leave pleasant tingles on your lips.

His arms wrapped tight around you, swaying you back and forth to a tune that was only playing in his own mind. “It was good, I got to try some new equipment upgrades today. They are asking for my input on how to make it better.”

“That’s because you are amazing at what you do, and I would know how precise, focused, and accurate you are.”

Bob laughed, covering your mouth with one large hand while you wiggle your eyebrows, trying to tamp down your own amusement for his sake. “Be a good girl.”

His deep voice with that particular phrase sent lightning zaps throughout your body and straight to your core, the memory of his head between your legs this morning making your heart pick up speed. “I can’t make any promises.” You let out a little yelp when you felt a quick swat to your ass, his strong hands turning you around by your shoulders and pushing you gently through the door with a laugh.

With a chime from the alarm and a loud jingle of the bells on the door, your presence alerted the owner of the little boutique that has become a favorite of yours to come to. “There’s my favorite couple! I was wondering when you two were going to come by and see us.”

“Good evening, ma’am.” He greeted with a nod. She reminded him of his grandmother - a little rounder with age, silver streaks in her blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and round glasses that complemented her face rather nicely.

“We’ve got some good ones this year, take your time kids!” The woman pointed towards the back of the store with the large display of several Christmas trees loaded down with ornaments to pick from. With barely contained excitement, you linked your fingers with Bob and dragged him towards the display.

“Have any idea what you are looking for this year?”

“Yes! Since we have officially moved here now that you’ve got a permanent assignment, I wanted to find one that has to do with your job. Can’t be that hard to find being in Fightertown, USA, right?” You mumbled, walking around the first tree in deep concentration. Your eyes squinting the further up you looked at the tree before moving to the middle one. “What about you, what were you thinking?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” When you looked over at him all you could see was his undying affection shining back at you. The added twinkle of the Christmas lights surrounding you both added a soft glow, bounced off the ornaments and added streaks of color and prisms along his flight suit. The smell of cinnamon, cranberries, and jet fuel made you light headed for all the right reasons. God, you love this man.

Right above his head on the tree in front of him was the perfect ornament! “There! Grab that one.” You squealed, reaching your hand out and pointing out the pilot helmet with red and green stripes. Bob shook his head with a grin and got it down for you, placing it gently into your palm. “Now you need to find yours.”

Bob’s real ornament was already waiting on their tree at home but he would gladly buy a dozen more to make sure it was always full of memories. Walking slowly around the next tree, he crouched down to see the ones on the lowest hanging branches with more clarity and immediately his eyes were drawn to a glass ball with the colors of the northern lights all around it. He immediately held it up with a triumphant smile, “This one. When we went to Fairbanks to see my sister in September, we saw the northern lights for the first time together.”

“It’s beautiful, Bobby,” you said, gently clasping the bottom of the ball with your fingertips for closer inspection. “Let’s get home so we can put these on the tree. We can put on your favorite Christmas movie and curl up under the blanket on the couch, sound good?”

“Sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.” He leads you up to the cash register, paying for the ornaments quickly while chatting with the shop owner before walking you to your car.

The drive home was quick, and his nerves were still nowhere to be found. This was the right thing for them, he knew it, he felt it. Why didn’t he do this sooner? Why wait so long to start their ever after?

Turning the lights on for the tree he watched as you carefully unwrapped each ornament, yours being placed on top of the tree, as far as your arms could reach. As soon as you picked up his, he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and pointed to the middle of the tree. “How about right there, Darling? Looks like the perfect spot.”

He watched as you reached out and put the ornament where he pointed to before your whole body froze, gently holding the glass ball in place. He felt the long intake of breath that filled your chest, pressing further into his chest before letting go of the new colorful glass ball knowing it was secure. With a silent gulp that made his adams apple bob in his throat, he wrapped his other arm around you tightly.

In the center of the tree was a gold and silver ball, designed to open in the center just like a ring box. Inside there was a plush velvet black pillow holding the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Darling, I want to continue this tradition and make new ones with you for the next fifty years. I want to make sure you know every single day how much I need you, how much I love you. I’ve always known you were it for me, nobody else is ever going to love me the way you do and nobody is going to be able to complete you the way that I do. I’m sorry it took me this long, and I want no more excuses. Marry Me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. It was a fact. It was a confident declaration.

Gently reaching out to the custom ornament, he pulled the beautiful vintage ring from its pillowed cushion. A thin gold band held an array of diamonds. A clear and beautiful round stone in the center surrounded by another circle of smaller round diamonds. The outer row is arranged like a sunburst. He saw it in an antique store two months before while you were searching for the perfect table for your entryway. He bought it the second your back was turned because he immediately thought of you. His sunshine. His Darling.

You felt the thin band wrap around your finger and settle at the base like it was always meant to be there. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it no matter how much your brain screamed at you to turn around and wrap yourself around this beautiful man that you had forever to spend with, so you did the next best thing. Grabbing his hand tightly in your own you whispered your own declaration, “It will always be yes.”

Tags:

@roosterscockpit

@bradshawsbitch

@jupitercomet

@seresinhangmanjake

@fandomxpreferences

@wildbornsiren

@babyrooster

@ohtobeleah

@callsign-marlie

@callsign-milano

@oncasette

@topguncortez

@topgun-imagines

@daggersquadphantom

@call-sign-shark

@cherrycola27

@thedroneranger

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways

@roosterbruiser

@teacupsandtopgun

@princessphilly

@wolfmoonmusic

@phoenix1388

@wintercap89

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@adaydreamaway08

@flowers-and-fichte

@mak-32

@greatszu

#writing challenge #sailor-aviator's writing challenge #christmas fic #tgm #bob x reader #bob floyd #promote creators #bob floyd x you #top gun

163 notes · View notes

thebaratie · 2 years

Text

little delinquents

#one piece #op #roronoa zoro #perona one piece #perona op #sailors log #wiah i could write so bad so i could make my 100k fic where they meet as kids and are a horrible sibling duo #does it make sense? no. is it a good au? no. is it all I can think about? absolutely.

4K notes · View notes

killthewhisperingart · 5 months

Text

Baby It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 1,208

Summary: For the first few years of you and Bradley's relationship, a mission would pull him away right as the air started to chill. This typically would lead to you spending Christmas alone; not that you minded that is. But now it's the first Christmas you can spend together, and Bradley insists on making it as good as he possibly can.

This is a part of @sailor-aviator 's Christmas Writing Challenge, using the prompt "Eggnog"

Warning(s): Fluff and hints of Angst

I am an 18+ blog.

A/N: This is my first writing challenge

It was you and Bradley's first Christmas together. You had been dating for a few years, but every year he was conveniently placed on a mission during the holidays. You had never truly enjoyed the holidays regardless, and the two of you would celebrate a different way when he finally got home. In fact, it wasn't specific to the end of the year holidays. There were times when Valentines Day was celebrated two months later, birthdays celebrated six weeks in advance.

Knowing this was the first time the two of you would be celebrating Christmas together on the day, Bradley was excited. The house was decorated, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, only interrupted by the smell of the pine tree he had bought the day after Thanksgiving. A wreath hung on the door, and lights were perfectly placed on the outside of the house. You barely did anything, he insisted you relax.

Though, he did start to run into some issues. Issues you were absolutely not allowed to help with. First, the lights he had pulled from the attic, were duds, which he did not know until after he hung them on the Christmas tree. One trip to the store later, he comes home and drops an entire box of ornaments. It seemed like every venture, had a surprise for Bradley.

So now you're here, sitting atop the counter as Bradley stands in front of the stove. His phone is open to a webpage explaining an eggnog recipe, while your laptop is sitting to the side with a YouTube video of someone making eggnog. The ingredients are scattered across the counter, a bottle of rum half empty, and a carton of eggs with several cracked shells still remaining.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" You ask, peaking over at the mess in front of him. "That's... a lot of rum."

"Yes." He insists, turning to look at you, brows furrowed. "Don't you trust your man?"

"I trust my man to fly planes," You pull your lip up and raise an eyebrow at the thick concoction in front of him. "You don't even like eggnog, you can throw in the towel whenever you want."

"No." He rolls his eyes dramatically, tossing a sprinkle of nutmeg into the liquid.

It's not that you didn't trust Bradley in the kitchen. He had been living by himself for years and knew how to cook a decent meal long before you entered his life. Hell, you preferred him in the kitchen rather than yourself a majority of the time. But as you looked at the boiling pot, you started to question his abilities.

"See?" He turns the burner off, motioning towards the pot. "Now it just has to..." He leans down to squint at the phone, then turns with a smile. "Refrigerate overnight." He grins wide, eyes closed as he raises his arms, clearly expecting praise.

"Mmhm," You hop off the counter, kissing his cheek, and as his eyes open widely you're already standing over the stove. "Maybe I judged you too harshly-"

"You did." He hums.

"But, we won't really know until tomorrow." You spin around to look at him.

Christmas Day hit like a train. You slid out of bed earlier than what was typical for you, placing a soft kiss to Bradley's cheek before going about your morning routine. Coffee was replaced with a mug of hot cocoa as you tucked your legs beneath you on the couch, making sure you were the first to message, "Merry Christmas!" in your family's group chat.

You sigh, adjusting the throw blanket over yourself as a chill runs through your home. Your hands are warm as they're wrapped around your mug, the sound of Frank Sinatra echoing from the record player.

"Merry Christmas,"

You turn to look over your shoulder at Bradley as he comes from the direction of the kitchen, a mug in each hand. His hair is untamed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, as if he rolled out of bed to immediately search for you.

"Merry Christmas honey." You whisper back, leaning into the kiss he plants on your cheek. You put your hot cocoa on the coffee table, immediately accepting the mug of eggnog he deposits into your fingers. He sits close to you, moving your legs to sit atop his thighs. You clink your mugs, before both taking a sip of the homemade eggnog.

The liquid burns your tongue and feels like razors down your throat as you swallow. You try to hide your cringe as your nose scrunches, delivering Bradley a half baked smile. He is worse at hiding his distaste, immediately coughing, and spitting it back into the mug.

"It's good!" You admonish, chuckling as he wipes his hand from his moustache to his chin.

"Honey no it is not!" He scrunches his face, setting the mug on the table, forcefully taking yours and placing it next to his.

"No, baby it's the best eggnog I've ever had," You giggle, scooting closer, kissing his cheek.

"You're just saying that," He looks up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes shine, reflecting the light from the Christmas tree, his eyebrows are pinched slightly. "I'm sorry."

"For the eggnog?" You scoff with a chuckle, kissing his cheek. "I don't even like eggnog that much, it doesn't matter."

"It's not the eggnog." He sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder. "It's the lights, the ornaments, the ice on the porch-"

"Where is all of this coming from?" You interrupt softly, running a hand through his hair.

"It's our first Christmas." He reminds you, as if this makes everything obvious. You stare blankly at him for a moment, eyebrows knitted together as you silently ask for him to continue his thought. "And I keep ruining it."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding where this came from. "How are you ruining it?"

"I keep messing up."

You exhale, pulling him closer.

"I don't think you're ruining anything."

"Baby, I keep-"

"Bradley." You admonish, he lifts his head to look at you. "Do you know what I've done in these past few years, during Christmas?" He slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He repeats incredulously.

"I haven't done a damn thing for Christmas since before we were even together." You admit, a bit sheepish. "It never felt right, to celebrate without you. So I never decorated, all I ever did was call my family. And I let you believe that I was just really quick at putting the decorations away."

"Honey-"

"I say this, not to make you feel bad, but," You exhale. "Honey. This is the best Christmas I've had in years. Because you're here." You hold his jaw in your hands, smiling as you stare into his warm eyes. His eyes flutter close, his lashes against his warm skin as you lean in, kissing him softly. "You have made this the best Christmas ever, because you are with me."

"Can't imagine being anywhere else..." He whispers against your cheek, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I miss you when I'm gone, and my mind is filled with you when I fly."

"I'm glad you're here." You smile.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Bradley."

#writing #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun x reader #sailor aviators christmas writing challenge #writing challenge #bradley bradshaw fluff

162 notes · View notes

sailing-through-hawkins · 6 months

Text

baby sweet baby

Eddie thinks he's died and gone to purgatory, that the universe has decided the consequences of his life, between the "satanism" and the little good deeds he tried to keep up, it was all too balanced. Which means he needs to both suffer and prosper at the same time.

"Shh, shh, you're okay," Steve coos and Eddie's cheeks warm, no, burn at the gentle tone as he stares up at Steve. "There you go, that's it."

"She's settling nicely with you," Claudia says cheerfully as she steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a rag. She smiles and coos at the baby in Steve's arms. "Looks like all that time babysitting was useful."

Grinning, Steve nudges his nose into the baby's cheek and laughs as she squeals delightedly.

Eddie squeaks.

"All good, Eds?" Steve turns in place, looking down at Eddie with a bright grin warming his cheeks and a spark lighting his eyes. Eddie squeaks and nods, because what is he supposed to do when that smile faces him? "Oh, you like Eds, don't you, Rosie? You wanna touch his hair?"

"Watch it, Stevie," Eddie manages to cough out, blinking at the baby that's now being held out towards him. "Oh, hello, you're in my arms now."

With another laugh, Steve settles right next to Eddie on the couch, their thighs pressed together, shoulders brushing, as he lightly holds Rosie's little baby hand between his thumb and forefinger. His voice is low and sweet, face right in front of Eddie's, and he occasionally glances up at Eddie to laugh softly.

"What'd you think, Rosie? Is Eddie more comfortable than me?"

Rosie gurgles, patting at Steve's face with reckless abandon, making him laugh even sweeter, making Eddie's blood burn with the overwhelming sensation of want, hold, kiss and he's sure it's written all over his face. He's sure anyone can see how smitten he is over Steve Harrington talking to a lil' baby from a mile away.

"That's a no, then."

"I think you're more comfortable," Eddie blurts out and barely stops himself from letting go of Rosie to slap himself.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve grins and then he presses his lips to Eddie's cheek, all soft and sweet and pretty and lovely and - "I think you're pretty comfortable too."

#steddie #writing #drabble #sailor✧writes #welcome to i love it when steve holds a baby and is the best baby-holder ever

1K notes · View notes

desert-fern · 7 months

Text

Ring Around My Rosie - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Nurse Reader (WWII European Theatre AU)

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: The year is 1944 and the Second World War rages on. You have been a nurse in Belgium for nearly three years, having seen the effects of the worst things human beings can do to one another. One day, like always, an injured man is brought in. An American sailor too far from the ocean he came out of on D-Day and you both are entranced.

Warnings: blood, bullet removal, mentions of Nazis (it is a WWII AU so…), probably inaccurate depictions of wartime nursing, most likely factually incorrect WWII history, fluff so fluffy I gave myself a cavity just writing this, 1940s Bradley Bradshaw (yes, he is a warning)

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: If you can’t guess, this oneshot is a WWII AU inspired by a cover of Ed Sheeran’s Nancy Mulligan that I have linked here! I’m 90% I fucked up my Spotify Wrapped for this fic so I hope you enjoy!

===

Well, I met him at Guy's in the second world war

And I was working on a soldier's ward

The scent of blood was thick in your nostrils as you dragged yourself out of the field hospital in Les Annais, Belgium. The Germans had been menacing your location for weeks, baiting your troops and sending fractions limping back into your capable hands.

You knew nothing of the tactics being used, very few did. You were here as a nurse, not as a tactician, not as anyone of note, save for being the longest serving nurse at the 51st Field Hospital. The others had bailed out as soon as they could, doing their duty but the gruesome fighting months earlier at the Battle of the Bulge had sent many fleeing.

It wasn’t like you could blame them.

You were still new, having joined up as soon as you could convince your father and while you were a month shy of 23, you had never experienced anything like this. Your grandmother had told your father off, reminding him that it was his own stubborn streak that raced through you.

But you were unprepared for everything you would have to do out here, hundreds of kilometers away from home, with the least amount of training that they could spare. At the beginning, you could only offer comfort to some of these men, being unable to save them from their wounds, as they cried for their mothers, wives, children, begging for the pain to end.

Sometimes - well, most times - these men were boys your age or younger. Lives that had only just begun were snuffed out in the most violent of ways and you were left to piece together your shattered heart day after day.

So you closed yourself off, choosing to help as many as you could. The conditions were brutal, the wounds you saw even more so. A year and a half ago, you didn’t know how it felt to hold down a screaming man so a doctor could try and save a septic leg. You were a shoulder to cry on, a smiling face despite the bleakness, and more often than not, an object of flirtation and admiration.

The sky was a miserable gray, like it always was. It seemed like the sky was trying to match the color of the tents scattered around the outside of the main camp, doing its best to hide you from the prying eyes of the German aerial patrols.

The Luftwaffe were always around. Luckily for you, they couldn’t aim for shit, but you couldn’t deny that the German movements had been far more frequent. Sometimes a young man crawled through the borders surrendering to the English and American forces and begging for help.

No one else would treat him, refusing to even get close to him.

You had chastised them all, reminding them of their promises to help those in need, and slowly you had gained some help in the care of these young men, though they were few and far between.

Shouts caught your attention, sending you racing through the muddy field back to the hospital. A group of soldiers, Americans by the sound of them, were calling for help and you would be a hypocrite if you didn’t help.

Hurrying through the door ahead of them, you saw a small group, maybe seven or so men approach. They were muddy, beaten and bruised, but your eyes fell upon the man being held up by his compatriots. “What happened?” You asked, quickly replacing a red headed man and half-carried the brunette towards the only open bed in the corner.

“A bunch of Krauts caught us by surprise, caught Rooster here with a few shots and some ass- pardon me ma’am, idiot jumped out of a tree and landed on top of him,” the man explained, helping you lay this Rooster on the bed.

You focused on the brunette’s bloody uniform, eyeballing the few bullet wounds in his arms, but you were the most concerned about the broken leg. It only took one infected wound and that limb would be gone. Not today, you thought. “Dot, I need the suture kit and a basin. You,” you stated, standing up to face the man standing next to you.

“Mulligan, ma’am,” he told you, standing up straighter. “Lewis Mulligan, US Navy.”

“Lewis, can you help me hold him down? I can’t stitch him up and hold him down at the same time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dot hurried over with the makeshift kit, placing it on the bed along with a basin of water. Unbuttoning his shirt, you found that two of the three bullet wounds still had the bullet in them and that the third had begun to clot against his shirt. Pulling the scissors from the pants pocket of your uniform and cutting the shirt away, you finally had a better view at what you were working with. “Fucking Krauts. Guess they must be really desperate to keep using shitty ammunition,” you remarked dryly, dipping a set of tweezers in a basin of cheap spirits.

Lewis didn’t say a word, clearly stunned by your foul language. “Ma’am?”

Sighing, you turned to face him. “Lewis, I need your help holding him down. The longer this takes, the bigger the risk of infection. I can’t do that if you are going to be shocked when I cuss and swear. Can you help me or not?”

He nodded, coming to stand on the other side of the unconscious man. Hands placed on his friend’s shoulder and hip, Lewis gave you a nod and you began.

The bullets were soft and slippery. They slid out of your tweezers more times than you could count, but you made it work, finally prying the two out of his shoulder and side. Lewis wasn’t looking at you, his face green by the time the last bullet clinked into the porcelain tray. “I can take it from here, Mulligan. Go back to your group, tell them…”

“His name is Bradley.”

You gave him a smile. “Tell them Bradley should be okay unless he does something stupid.”

He left you alone, perched on the side of Bradley’s bed, stitching him up. You saw his eyelashes flutter as you finished the last stitch and quickly stood up. If he lunged at you, you had to be standing. Enough men had grabbed at you when they woke up and you had quickly learned not to make that mistake again.

Too many bruises, too many sprains, too many punches thrown.

To your surprise, Bradley let out a groan and his eyes slowly blinked open. That groan turned into a hiss of pain as he tried to sit up. “Stay down,” you said gently, approaching slowly with your hands up. “You’re in a field hospital in Belgium.”

His eyes flicked to you, taking in your bloody uniform and trailing over your face. “The others?” He said in a panicked voice. “Where are the others?”

“Lewis and the redhead are outside, they carried you here. Seven of you came up to us, that’s all I know Bradley.”

A nod. “Thank you Ma’am.” Relief was written all over his face, in the way his eyes fell closed for a moment and his shoulders dropped.

“I just finished stitching up your chest, but I need to look at your leg. Can I do that?”

“Anything for you doll,” Bradley replied with a wink as he tried to lay down. But he winced and you were there, your bloodstained hands firmly holding his shoulders and neck while you guided him back down.

Never had I seen such beauty before

The moment that I saw ya

You moved quickly to treat his leg, finding that thankfully it was just a broken ankle and not somewhere further up. The number of men that had come in with a broken leg and left with one and a half was a number that you didn’t like to think about. It was far too high.

But Bradley wouldn’t be one of them and you couldn’t help but send up a prayer of thanks. The minute he’d opened his eyes, you’d been transfixed by the deep amber of them. A deep brown like the whiskey that was saved for special occasions and sparkled like a polished gun barrel or belt buckle. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen handsome men. Quite the opposite. You saw all kinds of men at their worst. Lots of them lookers, but you hadn’t felt a connection to one until him.

His gaze made it hard to focus as you fumbled with his boot lace, finally undoing it after what felt like hours. The smell still made you recoil a little, even after nearly a year in the nursing corps. Regardless, you still had to do your job. So you worked quickly, removing both boots and socks and compared both sides to assess where the break was.

A soft touch to his foot had him chuckle and you glanced up at him curiously. “Sorry, just ticklish, is all,” Bradley said sheepishly, hand coming up to rub at his mustache.

You gave him a smile before returning to work, splinting his ankle and cleaning the blood, sweat, and mud from his skin. “Better now?” You asked him, tucking a blanket over his body and helping him into a clean-ish shirt.

His eyes met yours and despite being in pain, Bradley shot you a small smile. “Better now that I can see my guardian angel.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one, sailor? More times than you’ve used that line on anyone in stockings.”

Bradley just grinned at your retreating form and let his eyes slip shut. The pain in his body was getting to be too much, but as he dozed off, he found himself listening to your voice as you reprimanded a soldier barely older than yourself for getting out of bed. You intrigued him, that’s all.

He said I was his yellow rose

And we got married wearing borrowed clothes

Weeks had passed since that first interaction and both you and Bradley had been writing to one another as often as you could spare. While in the hospital, you learned that he and his friends had been separated from their landing crew as they made their way inland from the coast. He’d been on Omaha Beach during what had become known as the “D-Day” landing in Normandy.

Not that he’d been allowed to tell you that, but he had anyways, trusting you implicitly. He’d had to leave after nearly a month under your care, but made a promise to come back.

You hoped he would, but neither of you knew what would take place.

The fighting had drawn closer to your hospital as the Allies fought for Belgium, liberating it in 14 days and wrestling it from German hands. There had been some celebration amongst your ranks, but your heart ached for Bradley, praying every night that he came back to you.

For now though, you had to settle for letters. Bradley’s smooth voice seemed to read every letter aloud to you, each word wrapped in that gentle, flirtatious tone he had used every day you had looked after him.

Doll. My darling Rosie, the most recent letter began. They usually started out with some endearment, God knows he had used enough of them as he tried to win you over despite your colleagues warning him that you wouldn’t fall.

You remember Lew? Well he told me that writing to you was a waste because I wouldn’t get any letters back, but I know you. You wrote me back like you always do. Means I’m going to have a nice big stack of letters waiting for me the minute the post catches up with us.

We’re still marching. It’s been hell on my ankle, but you patched me up nice and neat so I’m not too worried. At least the view is nice. I think you would like it where we camped tonight, crickets are chirping now as I write this and it’s peaceful. Kinda like those nights you spent sitting with me when we’d talk about everything and I would always get worried that you would get sick of me jawing and talking your ear off, but you never did. Spoiled me for a good listener. The boys here don’t talk much. Battle fatigue is crawling all over them and it is always quiet around these times cause no one says a word.

It’s awful lonely though, sweetheart. I miss your laugh, especially how you would have to cover it when it was the middle of the night. Closest thing to home I had in a while. I hope you can hear my voice in this letter because I know I hear yours every time. And I mean every word, Doll, I hope you know that.

When I come back, I want to take you somewhere nice. Get you all dressed up in something pretty but you would still be the most beautiful dame I ever saw if you came out in your uniform that I know you are wearing now. Maybe I’ll take you dancing like you talked about, holding you close for song after song and if I’m lucky we would be going steady after that. That kiss on the cheek you gave me before I left is just haunting me because I had a taste of the future, if you feel the same of course.

Call me a flirt, doll, but I’m just sweet on you. I’m doing everything in my power not to go AWOL and come all the way back to find you, but I hope this letter finds you well instead.

Thinking about you, my English rose.

Yours always,

Bradley.

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you carefully folded the letter back up and placed it with the others. They were all like that, yearning to be back here instead of wherever he was, thoughts of the future and he always, always, signed it off with “Thinking of you,” or lately “Yours always.” Every letter gave you hope and while you knew some of yours had likely been delayed, you always jumped up like you’d sat on a tack whenever the post arrived.

Dot had started teasing you the second that Bradley left, but one reminder of Lewis and she too was blushing. The two of you sat in your quiet fear, praying that neither one of you would get a letter from one of their unit mates saying that one or both was gone.

Your next letter went out the same day.

Hopefully, it would all be alright. So for now, you let yourself dream of dancing in Bradley’s arms, Glen Miller playing softly in the background as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Hundreds of miles away, huddled under a thin blanket, Bradley pulled a creased letter from his pocket, finally having the chance to read it. As the letter slid out of the envelope, a sweet smell burst free and filled his nostrils. He recognized your perfume, the scent having filled him with joy every moment he spent by your side as he recovered.

Shifting a little and adjusting the blanket, he opened it up, catching a second page that tried to escape in the sudden breeze. Bradley moved his lantern over and began reading your tight script that had his heart skipping a beat each time he saw it fill a page.

Bradley,

I received another letter from you today and I thought I had best get writing so I don’t miss the post truck. I do remember Lewis. Hopefully he remembers Dot because she is patiently waiting for a response to her letter. I don’t think it matters, the sentiment is still the same and I would rather see you at the end of this harrowing ordeal than have you replay thoughts on paper.

I had been meaning to ask about your ankle. If it ever gives way, splint it like I showed you. I don’t want you to break it again, even if that would mean you have to come back to me. But for the moment, I am glad for your letters. They make me feel closer to you. Describe the view for me, please. I see nothing but muddy fields, canvas walls, and wounded men. Is it raining a lot on your march? I know your boots were ruined when you were brought here. Did you ever find new ones? He had, but the source of them sent his stomach twisting in knots. Pulling boots off a man killed in battle felt savage, like they didn’t matter as a person.

I miss our talks as well. I learned so much about you so quickly and I feel like I know everything about you. I miss the snort you make when you laugh, especially when I told you that the other nurses called me Rosie because I was the only English nurse here. I was worried you would stop breathing some nights the way you clutched your chest as you laughed like you had never heard anything so funny. But I would give anything to see your smile, the one where it reaches your eyes and it seems you swell up with joy. I know there isn’t much time for smiles now but if I could just give you one of mine, I would.

Send my love to the boys with you. War is hard enough without having to deal with loneliness at the same time and you all are in my thoughts and prayers. I miss you terribly and find myself daydreaming of you every spare moment I have, which is not often anymore, but I drift off to sleep with your past letters in my hands and your words in my mind.

Your confessions for after this war sound like heaven. I hadn’t let myself dream too long about what will become of us. We have both heard the stories of wartime romances often enough to know how precarious they can be, but if you have hope, dearest, then so do I. I’ll wear my best dress and you in your uniform, we will be the best dressed pair at the dance hall. Nothing sounds better than dancing close with you. I don’t care how presumptuous it is, the way my heart yearns for your nearness, I can give my answer to your most secret hopes without hesitation.

If you asked, dearest, I would be yours in a heartbeat. So long as you are mine as well. Bradley breathed out a laugh, trying not to wake his comrades. He had been kicking himself ever since he had sent that letter, hoping you felt the same and by the grace of God, you did. I may be English but we aren’t always prim and proper when angered. I could and would write a million pages with barely any thought, but the truck is waiting for me, so I must end this letter here. I hope my words keep you warm in this autumn weather and please, if you can, come back to me.

Stay safe, dearest.

Your Rose

The letter crinkled in his grip as Bradley bit back a wide grin. You were okay. You wanted to go steady. You cared for him. Fuck the war, he though. His doll was waiting for him back in Belgium and not for the first time, he hoped that the war would end for purely selfish reasons. You were waiting and his mama had raised a good boy who never left a woman waiting, he wasn’t going to start now.

The radio in the small hospital crackled as the BBC broadcast announced Germany’s surrender as Russian troops poured into Berlin. Cheers went up amongst the nurses and the men they were caring for, but you knew that the casualties were high on both sides. The United States still fought with Japan in the Pacific, chasing them back towards their island, and you knew that the fighting would go on for a long time.

The only thing? You hadn’t heard from Bradley in months, not since March of this year; 1945. It was now May.

The worry in you grew every day, trying and failing to hide it from Dot and the others around you. It hadn’t affected your work, but it affected nearly everything else. You were hardly sleeping, rereading his letters so often you had them memorized. “Thinking of you” was written in his neat handwriting against the back of your eyelids, and everytime you blinked, you thought of him.

A few days went by since that monumental announcement of the war’s end and some fighting was still happening but Germany’s surrender had a lot of Nazi sympathizers fleeing like rats. But world leaders were acting quickly and you knew that while it would be some time before you would return home to England, it would also not be enough time for Bradley to come back to you here in Les Annais.

So, like always, you went to work. The soldiers around you were still flirtatious, some even outright admitting that they were sweet on you, but you politely told them that you were waiting for your man to come back to you, and that while you were flattered, you just couldn’t.

Sweet smile after sweet smile. Bed bath after bed bath. Infected wound after infected wound. And still, no Bradley.

Then you heard your name shouted from outside. You had been packing your things, having received your letter to head back home, when Dot yelled so loudly you thought a hoard of Nazis were marching toward you. Racing outside dressed in your one non-uniform dress, you saw a Jeep full of men pull up. They too were yelling, and when you ran up, you saw a familiar face not half a meter away.

He was covered in dirt and grime, his hair longer than you had seen and his cheeks were covered in stubble like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but it was still your Bradley in every way that mattered. “Bradley…” you breathed, coming to a stand-still with your hands over your mouth. You stood stock still, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you took him in disbelief. “You’re safe…”

“Hey doll,” the rasp in his tone gave you shivers as you met his eyes. They were still the same color as the whiskey you all had drank the night the war was declared over, the same sparkle twinkling like the stars as he took you in. “Look at you. You look beautiful.” Bradley clambered over Simon, nearly elbowing him in the face in his haste to get out of the Jeep. “Prettiest picture I ever saw.

You blushed, ducking your head a little at his compliment. Bradley’s heart soared as he took you in, marveling at how his imagination had been unable to capture the picture perfect moment of you in that dress. You had lived in his thoughts for months, each letter sending pangs of loneliness through him as each moment without you passed. Now, standing in front of you, your hair curled and dressed like a million bucks, Bradley felt his love for you grow infinitely larger.

“You…” you began, looking up at him, your eyes wide in shock. “You came back, sailor.”

“‘Course I did. What kinda man would I be if I left my best girl waiting.”

Dot and the others were still watching intently, keen on seeing what happened when you both finally let your resolve snap. “Come on Rosie! Give your man a kiss!” Lewis hollered from where he stood with Dot in his arms. “He’s only been dreamin’ about this since forever!”

“Mulligan, I swear to God, shut your fucking yap for one minute,” Bradley yelled back, shifting his focus from you to his friend. “Sorry doll, Dot, shouldn’t have said those words with you around. Can you forgive me?”

Shooting Dot a wink, you caught his hand. “If you kiss me hard enough, sailor, I just might forget the whole thing.” You weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but it was worth it when Bradley’s face lit up.

“Is that right?” He said in a low voice. “Just one kiss?”

You shrugged as your gaze fell from his amber eyes to his lips and back again. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

That was all it took because next you knew, Bradley had picked you up in his arms and let his lips fall against yours, kissing you so soundly your breath left you in a rush. His hands around your waist held you so securely you didn’t fear falling. Your own hands cradled his face, subconsciously brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes.

He set you back on your feet, but his hands didn’t leave your hips. “So, did you forget about it yet?”

Smiling cheekily back at him, you replied “Forget what?” He chuckled and you let your palms slide down his neck to rest on his chest over his heart. “All that being said, dearest, I leave today. And I know you aren’t down yet.”

“We got separated from the Navy landing crew, doll. Kramer sent a telegram to the high ups and they are sending us on leave for a little while. Especially since we weren’t supposed to be in Berlin,” Bradley told you, a big hand running up and down your back. “So as long as I get to port at a reasonable time, I’m still doing my duty.”

“And when is that, Bradley?” Toying with his jacket, you found yourself chewing on your lip in thought.

“Hey.” His gentle tone had you looking up at his face that was filled with compassion. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ve got it in writing and up here,” Bradley told you, tapping his temple. “My mama always said I had a mind like a steel trap.”

You leaned up onto your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m still going to worry, Bradley. I don’t know how not to. But I trust you. If you say you have it, then you do.”

Bradley leaned down to kiss you again, this time the fierceness of the gesture had you gasping against his mouth. “God I love you.”

The world stood still as you looked up at him. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course, Rosie. Unless you have some other beau running around London that I don’t know about.” He paused, looking down at you. “Wait, you don’t have a beau waiting on you, do you?”

Looking shocked, you shook your head. “No. No, I don’t. My sister was the looker of the two of us.”

By now, Lewis and Dot had run off somewhere and the other men traveling with Bradley had scattered throughout the camp offering help to the pretty young nurses still there.

The two of you were alone.

“Come on,” you said, tugging him towards your tent. “I have something to show you.”

“You could lead me off a cliff, Rosie and I’d follow you happily,” Bradley chirped, relishing in the pretty blush that dusted itself across your face. His body hurt from sleeping sitting up, he hadn’t had a shower and probably smelled terrible, yet even just being near him flustered you to no end.

And he loved it. Maybe not as much as he loved you, but how could he deny you? Your grip on his hand tightened as you pulled him to you, your other hand coming to rest on his jaw. “I didn’t want to do this in public, but I’ve been daydreaming about you kissing me like I’m all you have ever wanted, Bradley.”

The words raced through him, excitement building as he let you guide his face to yours. The first gentle touch of your lips to his had him smiling broadly, and he knew that you were smiling just as hard by the way you pulled back just a little. The next attempt went similarly; the two of you too giddy in the other’s nearness to kiss the other properly.

But he made it work, catching your chin and kissing you soundly. The gasp that fell past your lips gave him an opening and he took it, slipping his tongue past your lips.

Bradley had anticipated some kind of resistance, the feeling probably new to you, but he found none as he continued to kiss you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. If anything, you brought in your own fierceness to the gesture, your tongue tangling with his.

When you finally pulled back, cursing your need to breathe real air and not just Bradley’s closeness, you found that his eyes were still screwed shut. “Pinch me,” he breathed out. “This has to be a dream.”

“This is real, dearest,” you replied with a giggle. “Would I lie to you?”

“You promise?” The tone of his voice seemed so young to your ears, reminding you that for all your 25 years, and his 27, he was still too young to have seen everything he likely had seen.

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered open, shining brightly with unshed tears. “Thank God. I don’t know what I would do if I had imagined you.”

“I’d say that you have a very vivid imagination then, dearest,” you replied softly, turning his face back to yours. When he’d looked away, you didn’t know, but you loved the sight of those warm eyes looking down on you and you would do anything to keep them in your life. “Besides, where would I go then? If I weren’t real, as you say.” Your fingers ran along the back of his neck, gently playing with the short curls. That was something else you hadn’t noticed until now; the natural curls that had emerged once his hair had a little length.

“Marry me.”

You froze, shock filling you from head to toe. “I beg your pardon?”

“Marry me, Rosie. I don’t have a ring, hell, I don’t even know if I’m going to have a home when I get back stateside.” The words poured out in a rush, but the emotion in his tone was palpable. This wasn’t just a wartime distraction to him. “All I know is that if I don’t tie you to me, if I don’t make every effort to keep you near, I’ll regret it forever doll.” Bradley’s eyes held nothing but sincerity, truth seeping from every pore as he held you, his big hands pressing you to him.

A deep sigh left your lips, the silence thundering in Bradley’s ears as he waited. You glanced up at him, your eyes misty with tears. “If I say yes,” you began, swallowing thickly. “If I say yes Bradley, you don’t get to leave because this is hard. I would be your wife, and you my husband. We do this together or not at all.” Tears had begun falling and you didn’t know if this was an accumulation of emotion from finally having him close or if it was fear. Fear of being wed and left in a heartbeat.

“Rosie, I would find the Chaplain now if it meant that I could spend the rest of my life with you. I would march to the Pacific now to end this war if it meant I could marry you faster. I fought for us just as much as I fought for my country and my mama would come down from Heaven like a shot if I even so much as thought about leaving you behind.” Bradley had ducked his head down, holding your teary eyes with his own. In the growing darkness, you could barely make out the ring of his honey-coloured iris, but you knew that he meant what he said.

How could he not?

“So, doll. What do ya say, hmm? Feel like being Mrs. Rosie Bradshaw?” The usual humor in his tone returned when he saw the meaning behind his words sink in. You understood him and trusted him deeply, after all he’d come back, hadn’t he? In what world would he do all of this and not mean it, not swear by it? Bradley had taken a step to close the distance between you both for the rest of time, pulled his heart out of his chest and held it out to you.

You met him halfway. “I’ve certainly been called worse, Mr. Bradshaw,” you teased gently, as you toyed with the collar of his jacket. “What makes you think I’ll come running when you call that name?”

“Because I’ll come running if you promise to call me that everyday, Rosie doll.” A giggle broke loose from your chest and the matching smile seemed to split your face in two as you watched Bradley’s face light up once he heard your reaction to yet another sweet name he could drop. “You never did answer my question, doll. Are you gonna leave me standing out in the cold like some sort o’ schmuck or are you gonna let me in to get all the good lovin’ my weary bones need?”

You slapped his chest, cheeks burning under his attention. “My mother raised me to never let a man starve nor grow cold, therefore I believe I ought to marry you, dearest. How else am I to go on living when I have a very handsome sailor practically begging for my hand?” You were still smiling broadly and as you watched your words get processed.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Bradley let out a whoop of joy, grabbing you suddenly before picking you up and twirling you around the yard. “Well dammit all! Rosie said yes!”

Cheers broke out from around the hospital. Nurses and the G.I.s were clapping and whistling in celebration that only got louder when you brought your hands to his face and kissed him so hard you could feel your lips bruise from trying to pour every ounce of feeling into it. “God, I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

Setting you back on your feet, Bradley dipped you over a strong arm, bringing you into another sweet kiss that had you wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself as close as you could to his chest. “So,” Bradley mumbled. “When I find my mama’s ring, it’s yours. She would have loved you, Rosie. My pop too.”

You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I’m certain that they’re very proud of you, Bradley.” The softness of your tone combined with the sincerity filling every word was a shot straight to his heart. Tears sprouted in his eyes and Bradley brought you back up, hugging you tightly.

“I really lucked out, didn’t I? Meeting the most perfect girl this side of the Atlantic.”

A week later, you married Bradley William Edward Bradshaw in a simple ceremony at a small chapel outside London. His mother’s simple diamond and gold ring had slipped into your finger on the voyage across the English Channel while you had been staring out at the ocean around you.

You had scarcely noticed it at first, but when your eyes fell upon it for the first time, you swore that your heart had nearly fallen into your shoes at the sight. Bradley had laughed at your reaction, pulling you close and wrapping you in his arms for the remainder of the journey, all the while watching you trail your eyes over your hand time and time again.

It was all he could do not to press a kiss to your left hand every time he saw the ring catch the light, which was often, especially by lantern and lamp light.

Needless to say, the pair of you were very happy, and while Bradley had been tapped for deployment into the Pacific theater, his ship had only just made port somewhere in Spain before the US detonation of their super weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese emperor had surrendered almost at once and from your position in London, you couldn’t blame them. You had always hated the unnecessary violence, the casualties just because and this was no different. The innocent civilians hadn’t needed to die in such a way as they had, though you couldn’t see a way of changing the course of the war.

But Bradley was safe and on his way home to you. In the end, you couldn’t help those affected by the tragedy any more than you had during the war in Europe. You would be trying to wrap a wound made by a cannonball with a tiny sliver of fabric, so you set about waiting for him to come back to you.

Now though, you needn’t worry as much. You were Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw and he had made many a promise yet never broken a single one. So the mere sight of his form on the dock eased it all.

Today started the rest of your life.

We got eight children now growing old

Five sons and three daughters

She and I went on the run

Don't care about religion

I'm gonna marry the woman I love

Down by the Wexford border

She was Nancy Mulligan

And I was William Sheeran

She took my name and then we were one

Down by the Wexford border

===

A/N: So, I hope your heart has a big ass cavity in it and that you enjoyed the cotton candy level of fluff that I just threw at you! Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for being the best beta reader ever and @sarahsmi13s, I’m sorry for making you sob when I was sharing snippets

Read Roo and Rosie’s Christmas fic here!

Tagging: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @roosterforme @@eli2447 @nobody7102 @gigisimsonmars @dcyllom @bobgasm @multifandomlover4life @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

#fern writes #Ring Around My Rosie #wwii au #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #American Sailor Bradley X English Nurse reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader

248 notes · View notes

dont-f-with-moogles · 6 months

Note

Hey girl.

Number 5 for the smutty prompts. You up for another Levi x reader for me? 😏

Smut Scribbles 5. “Tell me what you want.”

Before Dawn (NSFW) Characters: Underground!Levi x Reader Word Count: 1147 words

Not moonlight - but an artificial glare pierced half-closed shutters. Between the open slats beads of condensation had gathered upon the surface of the glass. Outside amongst the roar of distant traffic and the yellow lights which burned in high towers above, the city thrived. Within your building little lives played out; some slept whilst others stared about the darkening walls of their tiny dwellings. It was the deepest part of the night, the lost hours before dawn, which belonged to you and Levi.

Damp, crumpled sheets clung to your hot skin. Your head sank back into the pillow; body arched against him; thighs wrapped around Levi’s waist. Moist palms almost slipped from his shoulders as his hips rocked into you. Sometimes he preferred to fuck you lazily like this; on those occasions when the scent of whiskey lay upon his breath. Or when he awoke beside you, disorientated; another night that he had not made it home. He would turn, shift your legs apart with his knee and, for one hour more, you would be his.

The movements of Levi’s body were slow, fluid, deep. Fingertips buried into your skin as he drew your hips higher. Later, incriminating bruises would confess to the exploits of the previous night. For now, pain mingled with pleasure. A dangerous cocktail, and one you savoured all too recklessly. With the heat of you clenched around him, Levi’s breath caught noisily in his throat. An incoherent curse escaped him, drowning out the far-off sounds of the city.

“You good?” It didn’t matter that his face was buried in your neck, where he could not see your smile. The teasing lilt of your breathless voice was unmissable.

Levi stopped mid-motion. Damp hair brushed your cheek as he lifted his head. The fingers of his right hand were splayed out, bearing his weight. The other - his left - was clamping down the loose strands of your hair which were fanned across the bed. As Levi withdrew he yanked them, sending white hot pain shooting across your roots.

With a small gasp, your head jerked sideways. Then you felt him pulling out of you. Levi hadn’t been rough - not yet - but the stinging sensation he had inflicted was climbing to an unbearable peak. You had heard the rumours; that darkness swirled through his veins. To someone like him it was nothing but instinct; to love as violently as he lived.

His kiss was pressed to your throat. A promise or a threat, you could not tell. Levi drew back, his warm palm trailing pinpricks of heat over your skin. With one deft movement, he tugged your forearm sideways, forcing you onto your stomach.

Pain tensed across your scalp. Levi was winding your tousled hair around his fingers. Tighter. Beneath you, his other hand snaked down between the bedclothes and your bare stomach. Panting, you longed for his touch just below where his hand lingered. Then, dipping lower, his fingers trailed over your clit. With a wild spasm, your body curled into his touch. His fingertip danced over you, igniting sparks. He knew exactly how to play you; how to make you his. An artist’s hand arcing circles sensuously. Levi read it in the motion of your hips; the involuntary jolt of your ankle; the half-stifled sigh which escaped you. You were helpless. His.

He wove your hair around his whitened knuckles like a coil of rope. Fiercely, Levi jerked your head upwards. Deaf to your moans, the movements of his other hand continued. He relished the feel of you; hot and wet against his fingertips. Oh how it turned his impatience to hunger. Levi’s whisper ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Tell me what you want…”

Hot breath stirred the hairs on the back of your neck. His teeth scraped the sensitive patch of skin behind your ear. Blood lust dredged up from the shadows of his past.

With your head sunk against his shoulder, you uttered nothing more than the faintest whisper of his name. Levi’s fingers teased you closer. A bead of sweat rolled down your heaving chest. It wasn’t enough. Your body was crying out for his hands to seize your hips again. You wanted him where he had already left his mark. You needed him to fuck you until you were raw; until you were insensible to all feeling.

“Want me to stop?” A note of derision; the strained undertone of desire which it failed to mask.

Weakly, your head rolled back; a victim to his lips. Sharpened kisses were nicked like tiny wounds into your skin; counted then tossed amongst the mound of his sins.

Behind you, the bed creaked as Levi’s foot nudged your leg open impatiently. A hand clamped down on your hip as he slid inside you again. You could hardly draw breath; almost lost to the sudden heat which flooded to your core. A delicious ache spread as he filled you; stretched you to fit him.

With fingers still entangled in your hair, Levi wrenched your head up so that his mouth was on yours. Beneath him, the rest of your body was pressed into the mattress. With a clunk the bedframe struck into the wall. He knew exactly how to reach the deepest part of you. You were aflame, lost to the effortless twist of his fingers, whilst every movement of his body sent white-hot waves breaking through you.

But you could tell that he was getting close now too. Levi pulled on the twine of your hair, bringing your face around to meet his. Your cheek was half-submerged by pillow as his kisses fell hard and clumsily upon the corner of your mouth. Levi’s ragged breath clouded you; threatened to pull you under with him. His thrusts were quickening and erratic; the knocking of your bed’s wooden frame only grew louder. His arm lay crushed beneath you; fingers working hastily, without care or precision. Sex without emotion. It was what you had come to expect from a man like him.

Then again, it never mattered that you could not look upon him in his most vulnerable state. Nor did it matter that the motions of Levi’s body were wild and ravenous. You were retreating; abandoning one another to chase your own highs. Lava pooled below; one moment you were afloat and then - you drowned against his lips. You were undone, powerless to a sudden burst of scalding intensity. Your choked cry was muffled by the pillowcase, its cotton drenched with sweat.

Behind you, Levi’s chest heaved against your back. He groaned your name longingly into your neck. As he withdrew, slipping out of you, your thighs were left hot and slick. Beneath him your body lay aching, spent. Levi laid his head between your heaving shoulder blades; hair soaked against your burning skin; arms wrapped around your waist. In that moment, helpless. Fleetingly, yours.

...

Back with the ol' smut.

Anyone who's enjoying these and is partial to a little not-so-safe-for-work drabble, choose from the Wheel of Prompts here! 👉 Smut Scribbles

#underground!levi #livin that thug life #levi ackerman #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x reader smut #hope you like it Sailor!#attack on titan #snk #n.sfw #smut scribbles #my writing

198 notes · View notes