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inmyloveworld · 7 months

Text

as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~3.7k

synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.

warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator

a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!

As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.

He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.

"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.

"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.

It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.

"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.

"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.

His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.

"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.

"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.

Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.

He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.

What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?

Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.

You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.

"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.

"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"

"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"

Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.

Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-

"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.

"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.

Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"

You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"

"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.

"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."

Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.

"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."

Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.

Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.

The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"

You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.

"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"

An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."

He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"

The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.

"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.

You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.

The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.

But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.

Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.

He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?

"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."

Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.

Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"

You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.

Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.

Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.

He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.

"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.

Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.

Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?

As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.

His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.

Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"

"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.

"Whoa.. where did that come from?"

Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.

He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.

"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.

Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.

His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.

You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"

It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.

"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."

And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."

Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.

"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."

Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.

Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."

He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.

That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?

"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.

Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."

The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."

You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.

"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.

His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.

"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."

Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.

"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.

a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3

tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun rooster

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quack-quack-snacks · 8 months

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Flaming Hearts

My Navigation and Masterlist

Pairing(s): Void Stiles x Phoenix!Fem!Reader Summary: You were always treated like an outcast by the pack. When the nogitsune takes over Stiles's body, he shows you how good being the outcast can feel Warnings: smut, pwp, mean McCall pack, EXTREME OVERSTIMULATION, fingering, cunnilingus, praise kink (tehe), eye contact, vaginal penetration, masochistic Void (kinda for like half a scene), sweet Void, commentary during the deed which is lowkey cringe in some spots my bad y’all, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, reader is not on birth control, Void lowkey baby trapping reader, a lil manipulation but like not bad, updated to have no use of (y/n), I think that’s it lmk if there's more. MINORS CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU KNOW THE WARNINGS YOU’VE READ THEM A THOUSAND TIMES. Word Count: 10,086

This was a very self-indulgent fic and I’m not sorry.

Pt 2 will be linked here when done.

BRO IS BEAUTIFUL WHAT

(GIFs are by @scuddish thank you scuddish for your wonderful contribution)

Life was cruel, but it made up for it with gifts.

You were new in town, a transfer student, living in a single bedroom apartment that was provided for you by your mother as well as helped by the government of Beacon Hills. You’d felt a calling to be here for the longest time and you were relieved your mom let you go. All throughout the first two weeks of your time attending the new school, you were desperately searching for friends or somewhere to fit into with no luck. On one extremely anxious day, you escaped your class to go to the girl’s locker room and break down there.

Until you saw two boys in there. The shock of two boys being in the Female locker room was enough to shake you out of your panicked state and make you wipe the tears from your eyes. With your vision no longer blurred, you could see the claws on his hands and the intense sideburns and fangs.

When once brown eyes turned a bright glowing amber, your body decided that was too much.

And you fainted.

The pack took you in after that - almost as an apology for making you faint - and allowed you to join their group since you knew about the supernatural now. They let you sit with them, invited you to sleepovers - Allison and Lydia mostly but Scott and Isacc surprisingly asked once. You were so happy to finally find a place that you fit in.

Except they never really let you join completely. No trust other than friendly-non supernatural related matters trust was placed in you despite the continuous ways you proved yourself. Being human, you were outcasted in the group of outcasts. Stiles was human but he was the brains. He discovered things no one else could, he was the detective of the group.

You were more like an emotional support human that was only needed like 2% of the time.

Noah Stilinski, the sweetheart that he is and despite his son’s deepest complaints, took over your living situation and let you stay with them for the year while you attended school at Beacon Hills.

Perfect fucking precious Stiles. He was infinitely the worst one in the group. At first he just avoided you at all costs until his dad decided to room you in the same house as him. Ever since, he’d been sending you glares anytime you were in his visibility and would blame you for the simplest of things despite obviously being the cause of them. He was so hard to get along with. Seeing how he acted around everyone else besides you and how everyone else acted around each other made everything worse. You knew you couldn’t leave because of Noah’s insistence to stay here and your mother not paying for housing anymore since she knew of your improved situation.

You also didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave these people. The only friends you can remember having. Those who, despite how they cast you out, have treated you decently well, at the very least sometimes, and took you in at your most vulnerable moment.

Stiles just seemed to hate you for whatever reason.

You sighed as you walked through the front door to the Stilinski household. A sigh escaped your mouth as the door closed behind you.

You called out into the house to let anyone home know of your presence. “I’m back!”

The house was eerily quiet and no response hit your ears. You shrugged it off with the thought of all occupants just being out and were a bit relieved you could have the house to yourself for a bit. They barely let you off on your own. Even now when you spent your time out of the house, you were accompanied by Lydia.

You shrugged your rain coat off your shoulders and took off your muddied boots, not wanting to track it into the house and have an excuse for Stiles to hate you even more. Your bones ached from the long day, having been running around all day trying to do whatever you could to help find Stiles. He had been missing for a while and the group barely filled you in on what was happening, just giving you the quick and vague summary about a nogitsune and a missing Stilinski.

With a sigh, you plopped down onto the living room couch and leaned your head on the back cushion. Your eyes closed and you took a moment to just listen to the quiet around you, the only sound the pitter patter of the pouring rain on the roof and windows. It was calm, peaceful even. You couldn’t remember a time where your life wasn’t a chaotic mess since meeting the pack. You sunk more into the cushions and pulled your knees to your chest while grabbing the TV remote and switching it to your favorite channel.

It was all so dark. So dark yet so comforting. Calloused fingertips caressed your forehead and brushed the hair out of your face. You could feel yourself being brought out of the heavenly ignorant bliss the darkness gave you and groaned in complaint. The fingertips stilled on your hairline, slowly retracting and you let out another sound of complaint.

A soft chuckle that sounded familiar but just out of reach for your sleep hazed brain echoed through the room. You felt yourself slipping back into the darkness when the familiar voice spoke.

“They don’t treat you very well do they, dove?”

Your eyes opened almost hesitantly and when you saw the voice’s face you gasped.

There he was. Stiles Stilinski in the flesh, and yet he seemed so different. His skin was paler, his eye bags sunken in and were a light purple. He looked… hot.

You shook that thought away the moment it popped into your head.

His hand, now resting on your cheek with a gentle grip, was feverish, almost to the point of uncomfort, but not quite.

And then you realized.

It was Stiles.

“Oh my god! Stiles what the hell?” You shot up to sit straight but his hand holding your cheek quickly traveled to your throat and he forced you back down, not holding enough to restrict air flow or hurt, but enough for you to get the message not to move. That and the glare he gave you. A sound of surprise sounded from your mouth unwillingly. “Um.” your eyes traveled from his unnaturally dark eyes to the wrist of the hand wrapped around your neck. “Okay, haha, you’re really funny but you can let go now.” You tried to laugh it off and deescalate the situation despite your growing weariness.

“Now why would I do that, when you look so pretty wearing my hand as a necklace?” He tilted his head and his eyes ran over your body slowly, seeing you shift under his gaze and his smirk growing with each movement.

“Wha- huh?” That was about all the words you could say, nothing coherent coming out of your mouth as you weren’t sure if you were flustered, annoyed, or turned on.

Maybe it was all three.

“Stiles, stop messing around. Everyone has been worried sick about you, they’ve spent the last 2 days searching for you nonstop. We need to call Scott and let him know you’re here and okay.” Although ‘okay’ doesn’t seem like the correct term. Sure, Stiles seemed unharmed, despite the obvious lack of sleep showing on his face - although that was relatively normal for him and his insomnia - but his tone, posture, and manners were way different. It almost seemed as if he had become a different person overnight.

He chuckled again, even his voice seemed deeper. Darker. “Oh I’m sure Scott knows exactly how I’m doing, considering I was at school earlier today. Oh… wait, they didn’t tell you, did they?” His face shifted into a mocking pout. “Poor little dove, outcast even in a place surrounded by people of supernatural abilities. The outcast of the outcasts. A fitting title don’t you think?” His words stung a little but it was nothing you yourself hadn’t already thought of. Him saying it just confirmed your thoughts.

“I mean, they don’t trust you at all. Despite everything you have put yourself through to prove yourself to them, they’ve just pushed it all to the side just because you’re different.” You were getting sick of him taunting you, just approving everything you’ve been telling yourself for the past two months. You rolled your eyes in annoyance and, fed up, you raised your hands to his wrist and tried to pry it off your neck. As soon as your fingers touched the skin of his hand - with a speed you barely saw - he removed his hand from your neck, using both hands to grab your wrists and pin them above your head to the couch’s armrest. He smirked at your dumbfounded expression and shocked stutters.

“You see, I’ve been watching it for a while now, the faltered smiles when one of them would make a comment to the group and cast you out. When they talked about their plans at lunch when you weren’t sitting with them yet and immediately shutting up when you got into ear shot. The way when even you don’t know, they are always following you, always watching. Making sure you were being a good girl.” He smirked once again and shifted your hands to be held by only one of his. The, now freed, hand forced your curled up legs to straighten and then he moved to straddle above you. You were pretty sure your eyes could just pop out of their sockets by how wide they were. His face dipped down and he pressed his nose to your jugular, his lips just barely touching your skin and lightly brushing against it when he talked again.

“But you’ve always been a good girl, haven’t you?” Your breath caught as his teeth lightly skimmed over your neck, canines feeling more elongated and sharper than normal. A shiver went down your spine as his tongue peeked out and slid up your neck until he was right next to your ear.

“Will you be a good girl for me now, dove?”

A whimper almost escaped your bite swollen lips at the pet name, your cheeks heating up and a warmth swirling in your core. “S-Stiles, what’s gotten into you?”

He growled and bit down on your neck harshly, making you release a yelp before it transformed into a muffled moan as he smoothed his tongue over it. “Don’t. Call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?” You asked, so confused by everything that was happening. Confused on why Stiles was acting this way, confused by why he wouldn’t call Scott, confused on why now of all times your attraction to Stiles had to come out.

You’ve always thought Stiles was attractive. The muscles he hid underneath his baggy flannels, the short glimpse you would see whenever he took his lacrosse jersey off after practice or a game before heading to the locker rooms, and that pretty face that haunted your dreams. Now, it seemed the attraction was even worse because of this new arrogant, cocky, full of himself, and confident attitude. He wasn’t pretty anymore, he was bewitchingly hot.

It also didn’t help that something unmistakable was poking your lower stomach.

“That’s not my name.” He said before quickly positioning himself to be kneeling on the couch in front of you between your legs, your thighs wrapped around his waist and his clothed erection so close to your heat a soft whimper escaped your mouth against your will. He grabbed your neck again, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he smirked and jutted his hips forward.

A gasp that quickly turned into a moan left you and you struggled against his grip on your hands as your cheeks heated, embarrassed by the sounds you were making. You didn’t necessarily want him to stop, you just wanted to cover your mouth so no sound would come out.

As if he could read your thoughts, he spoke. “Oh no no. You’re not going to hide those pretty little noises from me. In fact,” he leaned his face in close, your noses touching and lips inches apart. “I’ve decided I’m going to make you unable to stop making them.” His lips met yours as he thrust his clothed sex against yours again, swallowing the moan that left your mouth. He grinded against you, teasingly slow and you could feel his lips turning into a grin as you tried to quiet your whimpers and moans.

Just as his hand managed to unbuckle your pants, your phone rang from the kitchen counter. Stiles broke the kiss and stared at you with an outraged and lust filled look. He let you get up to go answer the phone with an eye roll.

It was Scott.

“Hey Sco-”

His frantic voice panically calling your name cut you off. “Where are you?”

“Uh, I’m… at home? Or- shit, not my home, the Stilinski home.”

A short sigh of relief was heard through the phone. “Okay, good. Stay there. Lock the doors and windows, do not let anyone in. Absolutely no one, do you understand me? No one! Not until we tell you it’s safe.”

“Scott, it's a bit late for that. Stiles came home a while ago, I’m not sure when bu-”

“Stiles is with you?” Scott’s voice yelled through the phone and you winced before replying.

“Yeah we’ve been… in the living room for the past 20 minutes or so.”

“Get the hell out of there,” Scott said sternly with a bit of fear and anxiety mixed in.

“What? Why?”

His voice broke a little as he spoke your name with a fearful tone. “That’s not Stiles.”

A hand landed over your mouth just as you were about to say something else while another gently took the phone from your grasp. The shock and slight fear of the situation took over both your flight and fight senses, leaving freeze as the only option. Stiles, or not-Stiles, brought the phone up to his ear as Scott shouted through it, his every word stated clearly despite being heard through the phone when not on speaker.

“Sorry, Scottie. Why don’t you call back later? Your girl's a little busy right now.” With that, he hung up.

You turned around slowly only to have Stiles, or not-Stiles, standing inches away from you with a massive evil grin shaping his face. You took a step back only to realize you had no room because of the kitchen counter. Not-Stiles took a single step forward and then grabbed the counter on either side of your body, trapping you. He stuck his face into your neck again, breathing deeply before speaking.

“And here I was wanting to drag it out for a while longer.” He leaned back and looked you straight in the eye with the most genuine smile you had seen from him all night, if not ever. “But alas, not today.” He raised his hand and swiftly brought it down to a pressure point on your neck, knocking you out instantly and catching you with a soft grip as you fell. “Until next time, dove.”

A violent shake and iron tight grips on your biceps violently woke you up, Allison standing above your lying position on the Stilinski couch and looking at you with frantic panicked eyes that calmed when she saw you awaken.

“Oh thank god. You had me worried for a moment there.” She grabbed your hand and lifted you more harshly than you would have liked and you rubbed your wrist when she turned away. “Something’s going on. We need to go to Scott’s house, everyone is already there waiting for us.”

You knew better than to ask any questions. They would tell you what they would tell you and nothing more.

Looking around for your phone, you noticed it was nowhere to be seen and you remembered the events of last night.

Last night…

It had been a whole night since you had seen him. Since Scott had called.

Did they really take a whole night to come see you? To make sure you were okay?

The car ride there was silent and you could feel your anxiety rising the more the silence dragged on. A breath of relief left you as you saw Scott’s house pull up. Allison rushed straight into the house, leaving you behind without a second thought and you rolled your eyes to hide the pain it caused you.

When you entered the house, the chattering from the pack in the kitchen stopped abruptly and they all looked at you. Scott hesitated before he took a few steps toward you and brought you into an awkward hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay. We were all worried.”

You looked around once he let you go and almost scoffed. Oh yeah, they all look really worried. Didn’t have enough time to send someone over to make sue I was alive but they’re so worried.

Over time, they casted you out more and more and became more distant. You were completely left in the dust. Not even just for supernatural matter. Lydia and Allison stopped inviting you for sleepovers; Scott and Isaac stopped having lunch with you outside underneath the apple tree near the lacrosse field; Stiles, funnily enough, was the only one who stayed the same, if not lessened up on the glaring.

You heard a soft speaking from behind you and whipped around to see a sight that made you gasp.

There was Stiles. He was sitting on the couch with a piece of black tape covering his mouth with Melissa sitting next to him, her head in her hands. His eyes shone brightly when he caught sight of you and he tilted his head slightly to the side in a way that made you shift. It was like yesterday’s events were playing on repeat in his eyes and you couldn’t look away.

“I think it’s time we filled you in.” Scott said from behind you and it brought you out of the trance like state Stiles/Not-Stiles had you in.

“Yeah, you’re goddamn right it is.” You said and crossed your arms over your chest. Scott looked slightly shocked at your behavior and scratched the back of his neck. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “Don’t even. I am getting so sick of how you all treat me. I have proven myself over and over again and you all just refuse to believe that I am on your side. What do I have to do for you to trust me? Do I need to sacrifice a lamb for you to trust me, oh my Lord Jesus Christ?” The last sentence was uttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Your outburst left everyone temporarily paralyzed in shock - as you had barely ever raised your voice at them - before a loud, albeit muffled, cackle interrupted the odd silence. You didn’t even have to turn around to know the Stiles imposter was looking at the show with mirth filled eyes.

“We- we never meant-” Scott started.

“Oh shut up, now is not the time for your excuses. Not to mention you practically left me for dead last night after you called, Scottie.” You spat his name out with a venom coated tongue as you interrupted him again and rolled your eyes. “Just fill me in on whatever the hell has happened to Stiles so we can all move on in our lives.”

He nodded and started to tell you everything about the nogitsune, how he had taken over Stiles, how he had stabbed Scott, how he almost killed Kira. By the end of the story you were surprisingly not even phased, whether that be because your mind was used to everything being crazy in your life while involved with the pack or how you just didn’t care. It’s not like they ever treated you that well, sure they were your friends but they were your friends by convenience and force, not choice.

And Void, that is what the nogitsune possessing Stiles’ body was called, well, he was just something else. The events yesterday may be shifting your bias but it was undeniable. You had felt an attraction like never before during those short and blissful moments. It didn’t even feel like Stiles. You know that even if Stiles had ever done something like that, he would never have had the confidence like Void did. And it was a feeling that made you squirm in your seat on the kitchen stool.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you risked a glimpse behind to see Void already glaring into your eyes, his eyes darkened by a feeling you could only describe as complete and utter desire.

He wanted you. And if the chance were to come, who were you to deny him?

After 10 minutes of trying to figure out a plan and speaking in hushed tones to avoid Void hearing, Lydia had given in and called someone, you didn’t know who but it seemed everyone else did.

Once again they left you out. Even after you lectured them about how much they did that.

More waiting happened until the bang of the front door being slammed open interrupted your increasingly anxious thoughts. With a too gleeful expression for the situation on his face, the one and only Peter Hale stood in the doorway with his arms opened in a grand gesture.

You all gave him a deadpan stare.

He rolled his eyes and walked up to all of you, more specifically, to you. He tilted his head as he noticed your eyes. You turned your head to control yourself. When you were anxious, or just feeling any strong emotion, your eyes seemed as if the irises caught on fire. They were frighteningly beautiful.

And you hated them.

As your heart steadied and you raised your head back to the group again, Peter’s interested gaze had shifted away from you and to Lydia with a knowing look before walking to Stiles. As he crouched in front of him and inspected his state of being, he spoke. “He doesn’t look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf.” You assumed Lydia already filled him in on what the situation was and what the plan was.

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott asked anxiously as he picked at the skin around his fingers.

“This is more a war of the mind than the body.” Peter stood back up to his full height. “There are better methods to winning this battle.” The mischievous glimpse in his eyes made you worried about what these ‘better methods’ were.

“What methods are you thinking of?” the veterinarian, Deaton, asked, his expression also showing concern.

Peter turned to face the rest of you. “We’re going to get in his head.”

As soon as he said that, he walked toward Lydia and roughly grabbed her by the elbow. With her being right next to me, you instinctively reached out and grabbed the wrist attached to the hand holding her. Peter’s loud unbridled yelp of pain made you rip your hand off him and he cradled his wrist as you caught a glimpse of it.

It was completely scorched.

Your face morphed into one of horror as your eyes flicker between the burn marks on his wrist that were, thankfully, already healing and the ashes on your palm.

“Oh my god! What did you do?” Lydia screamed at you and panicked as she grabbed Peter's arm, careful not to touch the wound.

“I- I didn’t- I don’t-” You kept trying to speak but your mind was panicking and your body was overwhelmed with shock and fear. Fear of yourself.

“It’s quite alright Lydia.” Peter said after a second when his hand had healed for the most part, it seemed the wound looked much worse than it actually was and all that remained was a red handprint and some ashes.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what happened.” You held the hand you used to your chest as if to protect everyone else from it. Deaton walked up from behind you and put his hand on your shoulder before flinching away.

“Your skin is burning. Scott, get her some ice.” Scott rushed to the fridge and brought out an ice pack. He practically shoved it into your hands before pulling his hand away quickly. He tried to hide it but his eyes showed fear.

It hurt, seeing them all looking at you like that. They tried to hide it but they looked at you the same way they looked at Void. They looked at you like you were a monster.

The ice pack in your hands was such a contrast to your burning skin that it forced your brain to focus on its contrasting temperature until you realized it was melting through your palms. You quickly hid your hands and the melted plastic of the ice pack in your pockets before anyone could see.

Anyone besides the boy sitting on the couch that is.

Peter reached for Lydia again, slowly this time and much gentler than before. You didn’t even look at them as they walked away, choosing instead to just stand there with your eyes focused on the hand you burned the man with.

After a while, they came back to the group and you all migrated to the couch where Stiles sat. You avoided his eyes like the plague, knowing they were zoned in on your every move and smiling in delight when he knew he’d gotten to you with just his mere presence.

Lydia was seated on one end of the couch, Void the other, with Scott standing behind the couch in the middle of them. Peter moved Scott’s fingers to align with the correct place to connect them all into Stiles’ mind palace.

“So what do we do if we do find him?” Scott asked.

“You’re going to have to guide him out somehow…” Peter replied vaguely which caused Scott and Lydia to both become increasingly annoyed and you rested your elbows on your knees before holding your head in your hands.

“Could you elaborate on ‘somehow?’ It’s not feeling very specific at the moment.” Lydia sighed with a slight roll of her eyes.

Peter shrugged, “Improvise.”

“Mm. Improvise he says.” you muttered under your breath but everyone ignored you.

Everyone except the murderous brown eyes burning a hole through your skull.

“What if this is just another trick?” Scott worried.

The grown wolf groaned in annoyance and exasperation. “When are you people going to start trusting me?”

You scoffed, thinking the exact same thing.

Scott’s eyes flickered between you and the hyena before he said, “I meant him.” And pointed to the possessed body on the couch. You finally raised your gaze to watch the scene unfold and felt your heart settle into your lower region when you saw Void. His head leaned against the back of the couch, tilted to the side as his eyes were focused on you, an enchanting and hungry look settling in his eyes as they gazed at you. He gave you a slow once over and everything around you tuned out as you felt your body heat up and pool in your panties. You could tell, if the black tape covering his lips was off, he would be sporting a very arrogant smirk.

A synchronized gasp from all three members near the couch broke your gaze with him as his eyes closed and his head fully fell against the back of the couch, face now facing the ceiling.

You almost stood up to go to him before a sigh from Peter faltered your movements and he spoke.

“Now we wait.”

And wait you did. It seemed like time was not in your favor when everything your life had become to know as normal was at stake. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes, but to you?

It felt like hours.

Blood dripped down Lydia’s nose and Peter ran up to her, shaking her as he screamed at her to concentrate and that she was stronger than this.

Personally, you couldn’t draw your eyes away from Void. His breathing was soft, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed and chest rising and falling with each inhale and outhale.

Meanwhile another Hale was pissing you off.

Just as you were about to call him out for being too loud, A collective gasp from the two non-possessed members near the couch once again interrupted you.

Melissa rushed toward Lydia to help her and Scott took a few deep breaths before focusing all his attention to the Stiles look-alike. “Did it work?” He asked frantically. You sighed and rested your head against your knees, arms wrapping around your shins to hug yourself in disappointment, the anticipation disintegrating into the thin air.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Lydia stood up quickly and rushed to Peter, demanding answers he evidently couldn’t provide.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia, it’s supernatural.” Peter sighed before grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him menacingly and they spoke in hushed whispers before Void shot forward onto his knees to the floor.

Like a circus act, a seemingly unending length of fabric spit from Void’s mouth and he used both hands to pull it out. Unnerving moments went by as everyone watched before all the scarf-like material was out of his mouth and he scrambled back to sit on the couch again, panting with his head resting against the cushion and his eyes closed.

There was clattering and yells to the side but you just stood carefully and walked to where Stiles was sitting on the couch. You sighed in nervousness before touching his shoulder softly and attempting to comfort him since all the others of the pack were focused on the clump of fabric behind you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, everything will work out. Just calm down.” You went to pull your hand away as his breathing slowed but he reached up and grabbed it with a speed non-human. Your heartbeat started rising again as the realization dawned on you.

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a smirk and heavy lidded eyes. “You’re right dove.” He tugged on your hand and you fell forward into him, his free arm wrapping around your waist aggressively. Or was it possessively? “Everything will work out.”

You awoke in a cold concrete walled room, the only warmth over you being your clothes and a soft woven blanket that did a surprisingly good job at staving off the chill. A soft padded queen size mattress with no support laid underneath to separate you from the frigid floor. You couldn’t remember passing out but you knew exactly where you were.

Or rather, who you were with.

Getting a sense of deja vu, calloused fingertips traced over your forehead to your hairline before going back again in a figure 8 pattern.

Your heart beat rose and his fingers trailed from your forehead to your neck, right over your pulse. You opened your eyes and looked at him where he sat; he looked genuinely happy, in a sick, twisted way. Despite how comforting the smile was, it sent shivers down your back that you couldn’t tell were pleasant or not.

“Hi dove.”

His voice broke you out of the trance his hypnotizing eyes put you under every time. You sat up quickly and scooted away from him, falling off the bed - luckily not falling down far because of how low the mattress was to the ground - and looked at him with conflicted thoughts and emotions.

He looked faux surprised and hurt by your actions, standing up and walking toward you as you scrambled to your feet to get away from him. “What’s wrong? You were so enthusiastic about it earlier, what changed?” You gasped as your back hit the concrete of the wall and he cornered you, one hand going to rest against the wall next to your head and the other holding your waist under your shirt. His fingers against your skin felt incredibly hot compared to the cold seeping through your shirt from the wall. He leaned in to speak again and his breath hit your lips with every word. “I promise I won't bite.”

Liar.

He leaned into your neck but didn’t touch you, only letting you feel the heat emanating from his body but not the skin. He took a deep breath in and you had to bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to stop yourself from falling to his feet.

It hadn’t gone away. The undeniable urge to just jump his bones and feel more of that pleasure he seemed so willing to offer.

“But of course, it's no fun if you don’t consent…” he leaned back and the hand that was previously on the wall next to your head traveled to your neck which he tilted upwards to lengthen your neck and looked at you with a smirk and hungry eyes ready to devour you. “So why don’t you be a good girl and tell me how much you want this,” he leaned in and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, “I can practically hear you throbbing.”

A soft whimper left you when his hand on your waist drifted to tug your pants down the slightest bit but never went farther without you answering. A few moments of silence passed, only interrupted by your soft pants, and he sighed in disappointment, his grip on your neck and waist slowly being removed.

Your eyes shot open from their closed state, you didn’t stop to think about when they had closed, and you grabbed his hands before they could leave your body. He looked at you expectantly and you opened and closed your mouth like a fish a few times before answering him with a soft and whispered: “I want it.”

His grip returned to your skin but his hand tugging your pants traveled back to your waist to draw little shapes there, tickling you just the slightest bit. “Oh dove, I’m proud of you for trying, but that’s not what I want.” His hand around your throat tightened pleasantly. “I want you to beg.”

Your eyes widened and you forced your cheeks to cool and swallowed your pride.

“Please?” You tried, weakly.

“Oh I know you can do better than that. Try again.” He didn’t say it as a suggestion.

With a deep breath and your hand, still around the wrist grabbing your neck, tightening, you did what he wanted.

You begged.

“Please, please I want it. I do, please, just… just do something, please! Anything! Please… P-please.”

He had a pleased smirk on his face as he leaned in so you were only a few inches apart. You could feel his breath on your neck with every exhale.

“How much do you want?” He taunted.

“Everything. Whatever you'll give me.” You told him with a tone of desperation.

He smirked and looked at you approvingly before crushing his lips against yours in a brutal kiss that sent you to cloud 9. Your hands traveled to his hair and you pulled on it roughly as you kissed back with just as much fervor. You felt him groan into the kiss and you grinned, but it soon faded as a moan formed when he pressed his fingertips to your core through your pants.

“My, my. All this just from kissing? You flatter me.” He spoke against your lips in a low tone. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You were absolutely soaked. The moment he started walking toward you, you felt the warmth in your core building and it hadn’t stopped since. Your head fell back against the wall and Void kissed down your neck to your collarbone, leaving bruises and hickeys in his wake. Applying more pressure, he dragged his hand up your core, pausing momentarily to draw tiny intense circles to your clit before using his hand to skillfully undo the buttons and pull your pants down. He broke the kiss to kneel down before you and look you straight in the eyes as he dragged the pants down your legs excruciatingly slowly. You hadn’t noticed previously but now realized your shoes were gone.

Who would’ve thought Void wouldn’t want dirty shoes on the mattress. Huh.

He stood back up to his full height and looked down at you as he rubbed your heat over your panties. He studied every expression you made and committed them to memory. His expression soon changed to one of annoyance, angry at the lack of skin to skin contact between the two of you. He ripped the undergarment into pieces before taking a step back to strip off his shirt. He paused just as he was about to step to you again.

You squirmed under his gaze as he gave you a long once over and his eyes stopped on yours. Another emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t quite recognize, clouded over his lust temporarily. “What?” You asked self consciously and moved your hands to cover yourself, thinking he didn’t like your body.

Before your hands could even reach past your hips, he reached out and grabbed each wrist, ignoring your shocked gasp and pinned them against the wall beside your head. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. You’re insecure? You don’t think you’re attractive?” He taunted angrily. He pressed his lower body into yours, his rather large, clothed, erection pressing to your bare clit as he grinded it into you. You moaned and he leaned into your neck again, being much rougher than he was a minute ago. “Ya feel that? That is all you dove. You fucking did that to me. You do that to me wearing baggy clothes and no makeup. You do that to me fresh out of bed in the morning with your hair in knots. You’re doing that to me right now, trapped between me and the wall, a silly shirt covering your divine breasts and nothing else.” He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to draw blood and you let out a loud moan. “You’ll take responsibility for it soon enough.” He arranged your hands to touch and he grabbed them both with one hand, the other sliding down, spending time to caress your breasts and pinch your nipples through the thin shirt fabric. He moved lower and lower until he reached your heat and thrust two fingers in with no warning. Without even letting you adjust, not that you really needed to with how wet you were, he started pounding his fingers into you. You started moaning uncontrollably and struggled to get out of his grip to hold onto something. He humored you and released your hands. Immediately they fell to his shoulders and then wrapped around his neck to pull his face into your neck where he started to leave his love bites. He grabbed the back of your right thigh and lifted it, wrapping it around his waist which allowed him to hit deeper. With every thrust, he curled his fingers and they hit you right in your pleasure spot.

Soon enough you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. It built and built and you warned Void about what was incoming.

“Oh that’s right, cum on my fingers dove. Let me know who makes you feel this good. Stiles could never fuck you like this. He could never bring you to such pleasure. To the point where your every bone quakes and sings in an overwhelming amount of pleasure that I alone am giving you.” His grip on your waist tightened to the line bordering between pain and pleasure just as his thrusts sped up to a pace faster than you believed even possible.

“Cum.”

And you did just that. Your bones really did quake and sing with pleasure. Your body writhed and you thrust yourself against Void’s fingers, grinding yourself through your orgasm despite him not slowing down and riding you through too.

Your orgasm slowed down to a stop and you took a deep breath before another loud and unrestricted moan released during your exhale and you noticed Void had yet to stop or even slow down.

“Ah, st-slow do-down-! It’s-ah-it’s too much!” You begged and yet he just smirked and increased his pace.

“Oh sweetheart, isn’t this what you wanted? You told me you wanted everything, you wanted all of it.” You swallowed in a lust filled fear as he smirked even wider. “So darling, you are going to take all of it.”

He led you on to another orgasm by his fingers alone. Your puffy clit was begging for attention after being neglected for so long. When you reached your high, he slowed down and pulled his fingers out. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from whining at the emptiness. He brought his fingers to his lips and stared you straight in the eyes as he brought them into his mouth and moaned at the taste.

You blushed and tried to look away until his free hand came up to grab your jaw roughly and force you to face him as he licked and sucked at his fingers, prolonging your embarrassment.

When he was satisfied with how much embarrassment he could feel radiating off you, he pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop before he grinned. His hands gently placed themselves on each of your hips and he leaned in until your lips barely grazed each other’s.

“That little taste just makes me want to have more. Which reminds me, I haven’t had my dinner yet. Do you mind?” You tried to lean forward and kiss him but he just leaned his head back until you gave an answer. You nodded your head no and he grinned.

“There’s my good girl.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, so softly it distracted you from the hands on your hips traveling to your butt and quickly lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Without moving his feet an inch, the wall behind you suddenly disappeared and he threw you down onto the queen bed mattress. You landed with a small bounce.

You looked at him in shock and confusion but he just grinned and winked.

Teleportation. Huh. Must be a nogitsune thing.

He kneeled down in front of the bed and ripped your shirt off before grabbing your thighs to bring you to the edge. You yelped and stared as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, the backs of your knees curving over them. He gave another little wink before diving in.

You moaned as his lips finally gave attention to your clit and a shock of pleasure swarmed through your veins. Your head fell against the mattress and your eyes clenched shut when the euphoria became too much to your, still sensitive, core.

A loud slap and the stinging on your outer thigh caused you to flick your eyes open and look at the man between your legs.

“The next time you look away from me I will edge you for three new moons.” He spoke right against your cunt and you could feel the vibrations surging through your clit. With a moan, you nodded and adjusted yourself to lean on your elbows and look at him. He brought his tongue out to lick a long stride up your cunt and collected your slick in his mouth before going straight back into his meal.

You had no doubt he would stay true to his word if you looked away, so you kept your eyes firmly on him, despite every protest in your veins to close your eyes when it became too much.

When the coil in your gut built up again, he could feel you approaching your orgasm and looked you right in the eyes. You blushed and were so tempted to look away but he tightened his grip on your thighs in a warning.

You came again for the third time. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him but they fluttered shut every few seconds as he kept licking and sucking at your overstimulated clit.

When he seemed satisfied two mind blowing orgasms later, he climbed up your body, one of your legs falling to surround his waist while the other he kept suspended over his shoulder.

“You did so well. You’re such a good girl, following orders with no questions.” He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “They don’t deserve you, they never did.” He murmured against your lips before his head traveled to the curve of your neck and shoulder.

He took his pants and boxers off in no time, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds and over your clit.

Your mind was racing with too many conflicting emotions to comprehend: want, fear, lust, panic. You looked down and saw him.

He was big. Bigger than any guy you’ve ever seen, not that that was many considering you were a virgin.

“I am going to ruin you. No one else will ever be able to make you feel the way I do. Every time you cum from this point on will be from my body, no one else's.” He spoke menacingly while he watched in awe as your overstimulated clit twitched whenever he ran the head of his dick across it. The mushroom tip of his cock caught along your entrance through every glide up and down until he stopped and pushed it fully in.

“Wait, wai-ngh!” You tried but got interrupted by your own moan when he thrusted all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressed against your cervix in a mind blanking way. The sting of the stretch was there but was completely oversighted by the immense pleasure that came with it. You gasped at the feeling and wrapped your arms around his shoulder to scratch at his back. His back quickly covered in nail marks and marks of ash and burned skin.

You gasped in horror at the unwilled release of your fire until he moaned loudly - filled with both pleasure at the pain and entrance of your slick walls. Any sounds he had tried to hide completely spilled out. “Shit, keep doing that d-dove. Mark me all you want. Make me yours. F-feels so good; you’re so tight. Are you a virgin or something? You’re squeezing me to death, I don’t know how much longer I can take with you so tight around me.”

You froze at the accusation and turned your head the opposite of his, not answering his question.

A sigh escaped you when he started leaving kisses on your neck, slowly dragging out of your entrance before entering back just as slowly. An elongated moan left your mouth when he hit a certain spot on his way back in.

“Oh it’s alright my sweet girl. This just means I’m able to take another thing Stiles has been longing for. If only I was able to take your first kiss too.”

You almost missed what he said when he snapped his hips into yours harder and you sputtered unintelligible words at the movement.

“He-agh-he what?” You asked him as he left a soft bite on your clavicle.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think there was a corner of his mind that wasn’t filled with the idea of you. Poor little Stiles couldn’t stop imagining you like this.” He mocked. “He would’ve fucked you with your chest to the bed and you ass sticking up all nice and pretty but I don’t think you’d like that, would you sweet girl?”

Your heart skipped as he rose to look into your eyes. “No, I don't think you would.” He roughly snapped his hips to yours again before putting on a mock sympathetic look. “You want them to look at you as you’re getting pleasure you’ve never before received.” Another harsh thrust and you moaned loudly which he silenced by sticking two fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Your lips immediately wrapped around his and you grazed your teeth along the sensitive skin. He tasted like salt and your cum along with a hint of blood. “You want that skin to skin contact as they bring you within an inch of your life and back.” Another thrust. “You want someone to make love to you, no fucking around.”

You moaned especially loud at that. You didn’t want to lose your virginity for something that wasn’t going to mean anything. You’ve known Void for less than two days and yet you feel more connected with him than all the McCall pack combined. It seems he feels the same way from how he’s talking.

“I'm the one who took your first time, and I will be the one to look into your eyes as you receive the pleasure I am giving you; I will be the skin you feel against your own as I move inside you;” He paused for a second as he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, biting softly on the nub, and smiling as you whimpered in return. “I will be the one to make love to you.”

You grabbed the hand thats fingers were in your mouth and pulled them out before grabbing his cheeks between and pulling him into an aggressive kiss. You whimpered and moaned as he sped up, reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust. The hand that was once in your mouth traveled down your body slowly, smearing your saliva across your nipples as he played with them before settling against your clit. Just the slightest graze from his fingers made your spine arch up into his chest in anticipation and pleasure. He started rubbing figure eights into the pleasure bud, matching them with the pace of his thrusts.

Your lips opened in a moan and Void took the opportunity to shove his tongue against yours. He took control of the kiss instantly and rubbed his tongue along every inch of the inside of your mouth, exploring it like looking for treasure marked on a treasure map.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn’t drive his mouth away from yours, needing to breathe in through your nose every minute or so so you didn’t pass out. He pressed the fingers against your clit down harder as if to encourage you to cum and and you came beautifully. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced tonight if not ever. Your body was shaking in exhaustion after the multiple orgasm you’d received within the last 30 minutes, or was it closer to 2 hours? You weren’t sure but honestly didn’t care. You could feel by the way Void broke the kiss and pushed his head into the crook of your neck along with the tensing of his back muscles that he was nearing his orgasm as well.

Then it occured to you, this whole time he was using no protection.

And you weren’t on birth control.

“N-no-agh-you gotta pull o-out. ‘Might get pre-ngh-pregnant. I’m not on birth c-control.” You focused all your energy on speaking despite the overwhelming overstimulating feeling of him driving his dick into your cervix and his thumb making you lose every thought that came to your head with his torturous but amazing touches.

He suddenly came to a complete stop inside of you. His dick twitched as the only sounds heard were your heavy breath and whines of complaint despite your better judgment.

“You’re not on birth control?” He asked into your neck, skimming his lips along your carotid artery.

“No.” You whispered.

You felt him grin that same evil grin you’ve seen before against your neck before biting down hard on your neck and withdrawing his hips from yours. You cried out at the feelings of pain and emptiness overflowing your senses.

“You don’t wanna have my babies, is that it?” He whispered into your neck with a tone that sounded almost heartbroken. You knew it was fake yet something in you just wanted to comfort him.

“N-no that’s not-”

He sat up abruptly, his cock now only half an inch in your entrance. The leg that rested on his shoulder fell to surround his waist with the other one and he sat back on his heels while grabbing your hips. His face looked so sad as he gazed down at you and yet his eyes seemed to hold a completely different emotion.

“Why not, dove? I’d give you everything.” His grip on your hips tightened and he slowly pulled your hips into his using only the strength of his arms. He slid back into you easily and his tip settled against a spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and mouth opening in a low moan. Void grinned as he saw your reaction before returning to the pitiful look as he drew his hips back out again. His lips quirked up the slightest bit as you whined out. Pulling your hips into his roughly, he kept you there as you moaned louder. “I mean, if you really want me to stop…” He slowly started retreating out of your warmth as he trailed off before your arms wrapped around his neck.

“No!” You yelled before whispering almost like an echo, “No.” You breathed heavily in his ear, sputtering as you tried to get the next sentence out with his tip prodding against your cervix ever so delightfully. “Please don’t stop, y-you just can’t c-cum inside.”

He thrusted roughly into you again and your arms lost all strength as the mind blowing pleasure took over your mind. He repeated that cycle. Slowly pull out, roughly snap back in. Over and over and over. It made you whimper and cry out every time, wishing he would just bring you to the ecstacy you’ve been nearing instead of leaving you teetering on the edge of relief.

“Oh you feel so good baby, gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He repeated like a mantra as his hips fastened and he pushed into you even harder.

Your mind was fogging over as you finally got the pleasure you needed to reach your orgasm. You barely had the strength to move your tongue and speak out your protests that were weakening by the second, you actually wanted his cum. You want it to be spilling out as you stand up, soaking your underwear as you walk around. You just were so scared of being pregnant. Your sister got pregnant when she was around your age. Your mother completely freaked when she found out and banished - yes, banished - her from the house forever.

Would Void stay? You still weren’t exactly sure what his intentions with you were. Was he going to kill you after this? Was he going to make you pregnant and leave you alone to raise the child on your own?

Apparently, Void could sense the onslaught of fear and panic creeping into your mind because he shoved his face into your neck and dug the pads of his fingers into your hips even harder. There was surely going to be a bruise the next coming day.

“Oh you’re going to look so good pregnant with my kids. God it just makes me so hard thinking about it. I wonder what they’ll look like, will they have your eyes or mine? God I hope they have yours so I can stare into them all day no matter where I am. This is the one thing I need to do to make you mine. You gonna let me make you mine, Dove? You gonna let me cum inside?” His pace slowed to a comforting, intimate pace. It brought you even closer to the edge just thinking he liked you enough to stay, maybe even loved you from how he was thrusting into you now.

You took a few moments to think about it before your mouth outran your thoughts. “Yes! Yes, Void, please. Please fill me up.”

He kissed your neck softly as his pace fastened again but still kept the intimacy from before. He pushed back the hood of your clit and started rubbing harshly on the overstimulated puffy bud of pleasure, making you lose all coherent thoughts and abilities to do anything but moan out his name. With a stuttered thrust, he pushed in all the way and came inside you. The feeling was enough to make you fall over the edge right with him. You both laid there in each-others arms while you tried to catch your breathing.

Void caught his a lot faster.

With a chuckle, and his dick as hard as when you started, he grabbed both of your legs, raising them so they were resting on his shoulders and he had you in the mating press and pressed your thighs against your breasts as he thrust into you with no reprieve. He pulled out of you before pushing back in, a torturously slow pace that made your body writhing and squirming. You gasped at the feeling and squirmed in his hold from the overstimulation. This new position made it so he hit your g-spot on every thrust in with no effort. As he brought one hand down to your clit again and rubbed so deliciously hard and slow, just like the pace he had set for his thrusts into you, you couldn’t take it anymore and came yet again. He had brought you to another orgasm in less than 2 minutes.

“Oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you, Dove? We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we baby? Gotta get you nice and knocked up with my kids. We can’t just stop now.”

With each slow thrust and the overstimulation, it didn’t take long before you came again and Void had the biggest smirk on his face as he watched you.

“V-void! P-ple-I can-can’t take anymore. I can't, I can't, I can't!”

He just laughed at you and your protesting words, capturing your hands that were weakly trying to push him away and forcing them to stay above your head where they were restricted of all movement. He pressed down even harder on your clit and you let out a yelp of a moan as you could feel another knot forming. “Darling, you don’t get to decide what’s too much. I'm in charge here, Dove, and you’re done when I say you’re done. You’ll take as much as I give you.”

His words turned you on so much more which surprised you as you didn’t think you could be any more turned on. You came once more and could tell by how Void’s face scrunched up in pleasure that he was reaching his limit as well. His dick pulsed inside of you, each vein had a throbbing heartbeat that struck so painfully good against your walls.

“One more, just one more, Dove. Give me one more.” He groaned out as he held his own orgasm back and rubbed rigorously at your clit while his pace increased to an unfathomable level. Finally, as you came yet again, Void released inside of you again.

He collapsed on top of you, his head landing on your chest, pillowed by your breasts. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth as his slick fingers resumed their torture of your extremely overstimmulated clit. They rubbed slowly but it felt so much more intense than all the previous times that he had brought you pleasure. It burned in the best way possible.

“One more, come on, I know you have one more in you.” He encouraged, again. It seemed like he would just never stop.

He was utterly insatiable.

You came once more for the final time of the night and Void rewarded you with kisses scattered all across your chest for all of your efforts.

With your eyes barely able to remain open. and your limbs drained of any energy, Void looked at you with a soft look and gathered you in his arms. He grabbed the blanket that had been kicked off during the time of your… activities, and covered the both of you with it.

With his cock still deep inside of you, keeping everything he spent trapped within you, he whispered, “Good night, Dove,” and pressed a kiss to your temple. That night, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling more safe and at home than you have ever been before.

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archivallyfound09 · 10 months

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The Vice Admiral's Niece

Summary: At a yearly Navy dinner, Vice Admiral Simpson decides to bring his niece to get her out of the house after a breakup. She isn't thrilled until a certain aviator catches her eye all night.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader (female, she/her pronouns, no y/n) Warnings: The usual. Everything is Mature, I'll mark explicit. Drinking, swearing, sexual innuendos. Mention of a breakup and of parent death-nothing graphic. ----------

"I don't know how you do these things," her voice was strained as she came down the tall flight of stairs. Her dress was a bit too tight for her comfort zone, the dark emerald satin starting to feel more like a noose wrapped effortlessly around her body. Her hair was done in a new way and a bobby pin was doing it's damnedest to continually poke into her brain.

"Honey, I don't have time for the whining, just get down here," Cyclone rolled his eyes as his recently shined black shoe tapped impatiently on the cream colored marble floor.

"Sorry, Uncle Beau- I mean, Command- I mean-" her stuttering was complimented by her stumbling down the stairs in the great hall. A sheepish grin took over her features as the Vice Admiral reached out to catch her after missing the final step.

"Listen, Billie," he sighed as she straightened her dress, her ears pricking a bit redder at the nickname ("Kill Bill" was a movie she had demanded to watch as a kid, not understanding the content of the movie and when her uncle finally let her watch it, she was haunted by nightmares for weeks. Unfortunately, the nickname was too cute not to stick).

"- I just need you to smile, enjoy the food, maybe dance, and then we'll get you out of here." He sighed as he saw her head drop again. He had agreed to take his niece to the annual Navy function after his wife had insisted upon it- the poor thing had just been dumped and, having lost both her parents previously, she had practically been living at her aunt and uncle's.

"Billie- look at me," her eyes slowly looked up at her uncle.

"I know I know, just don't trip," she took in a deep breath and forced a smile. She linked her arm through his and they walked into the grand ballroom, her heartbeat matching each click of her heels as they were announced in.

-------

Hangman almost spat out his drink when he saw the Vice Admiral walk into the room.

"Holy shit- look at the piece on Cyclone!"

The entire dagger team whipped their heads to look towards the ballroom's doors, trying to catch sight of what Hangman had seen. Fanboy thought it was a joke until he saw the woman with the placated smile bowing her head towards some of the other commanders nearby.

"Jesus! Who knew Cyclone had it in him? I can't-"

"She's not with him," Phoenix interrupted, "His wife's been on base recently," every male in the party looked at her befuddled, "You morons, we all saw her! He introduced her to Maverick before training like two weeks ago!"

Fanboy and Coyote looked at each other and shrugged, Bob pretended to agree and then shook his head, and Hangman downed the last of his drink. Phoenix was about to chastise the group again when she noticed that she had gotten no response or commentary from Rooster.

"Bradshaw," the sandy brown hair barely tilted towards her at the mention of his name, "for the love of god, do NOT try anything with the Vice Admiral's daughter." Rooster was still frozen, his eyes locked on the woman who had walked in. He couldn't help but memorize every detail of her: the way her dress flowed behind her with every step, the folds of the dress around her left hip, the way her hand kept perfectly still on the admiral's forearm.

"Yo, Rooster, friendly wager?" Hangman's voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to, for the first time since she had entered, turn away. He shook his head and went to challenge his fellow pilot, but suddenly felt the hair stand on the back of his neck. He slowly turned around. half expecting the Vice Admiral himself to be breathing down on him.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the room (and while he ignored Hangman's taunts and preemptive bragging), his eyes finally locked on the culprit. It was her. Seated in the middle on a long banquet table, her soft eyes stared at him intently, as if she wanted him to know that he was the object of her attentions.

Almost as quickly as he caught and held her gaze, the Vice Admiral next to her tapped her wrist, forcing her to turn and shake hands with Warlock as he took his seat. It was after some short remarks that the dinner then began.

Bradley was quick to notice that the woman seated on the stage in the front was keenly observing him as he continued to mindlessly eat the food in front of him. He was grateful to have chosen a seat to the side of the round table so he could catch her eye every time she glanced at him. He loved watching the way she would pause with her fork pointed down and then fein interested in the conversation happening around us.

When the Vice Admiral took to the podium and started droning on and on about, well, honestly, Bradley had no idea about what. He just kept his gaze on the beauty at the table. She was no longer hiding that she was looking right at him and he was sure he was going to get caught, eat least by someone at his table.

He glanced around and realized no one was paying him any mind (well, except for Hangman who waggled an eyebrow at him as a taunt, focing Rooster to roll his eyes). With his conscious clear, he took in a shaky breath, caught her eye again and gave her his best "Rooster" grin. He could've sworn he saw her giggle and glance down quickly to grab her napkin to stop the laugh as Warlock looked over at her curiously.

A few moments later, Rooster was convinced he had crossed a line. His eyes continued to plead with her to look back up at him, even just one more time. He settled to studying the way that the dress draped around her shoulders and the delicate golden chain that lay right above her collarbones.

He had finally made his mind up- he needed to meet her. Cyclone be damned. His career be damned. His life be damned. He needed thirty seconds with this woman. To do what, he wasn't exactly sure.

It was at this moment that Rooster realized he had checked out a bit too long. Everyone else at the table was standing. Payback had kicked his chair leg hard, automatically causing Rooster to stand. He started catching the compliments from the Vice Admiral:

"...our Naval Aviation Warfighting Development Center has continued to not only grow the finest aviators in the Navy, but continues to utilize and deploy alumni of the Navy Fighter Weapons School to help complete missions that are, well, impossible, frankly."

She knew the joke was a cheap one, but, when you're Vice Admiral, you get a laugh out of every joke you give at the annual dinner. Her aunt had warned her of her uncles terrible sense of humor and inability to read any joy in the room. She giggled to herself.

She wasn't quite sure why, but her eyes kept wandering over to the pilot (she assumed) with the moustache and the brown hair (or was it sandy? the lighting was horrific in the ballroom). He had caught her eye as soon as she walked in, but in a way that every other eye who glanced at her had not.

His gaze was kind. Inquisitive, but kind. She had grown up around naval pilots most of her life after her dad and then her uncle's chose professions. She knew how most were, especially those of the Top Gun variety. When she saw him stand as a graduate, she felt her stomach drop- this guy was bad news.

And yet, she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as he stumbled to stand and immediately looked to lock eyes with her.

Bradley continued to hold her gaze and gave her a crooked smile as his fingers mindlessly played with the hem of his dress blues. He had forgotten that he was in this ridiculous penguin suit. Thank god, he thought, as Warlock motioned for the task force at his table to sit down. He caught Maverick's eye as he sat and shrugged, but Pete Mitchell knew better: he had seen that look in a Bradshaw's eye before. It was the night that Goose had met Carole.

"And, before this party really gets going," Cyclone gave a hollow laugh which was reciprocated just as lifelessly, "I do want to thank all the support systems that are behind each and every one of you. Your families, your parents, your siblings, your children. I'm honored today to have my niece with me this evening." He paused and some tittering comments were whispered at tables.

"My wife Kelly said that I should clear up any confusion about my date tonight, lest any of you think this is my style."

The sternness of his comment mixed with the ridiculous clarification actually caused uproarious laughter that was quickly snatched up by the DJ as the music started. Cyclone sat down and gave a small smile to his niece, patting her arm.

"Aunt Kelly wrote that for you, yeah?"

He took a swig of his whiskey, "Damn right she did. Everyone in this room thought I was a dirty old man til I said something."

She laughed and hugged her uncle, thrilled that he was finally starting to lighten up a bit.

"C'mere Billie, let me introduce you to some members of Bate's team. He's got some characters you might remember...."

She stood gingerly and took her uncle's arm, smiling at Rear Admiral Bates as he started to walk her towards the table she had been staring at all night.

"Knew someone?" Her brain was in overdrive- who had she met before that her Uncle knew that would be at Top Gun who-

"Billie. My God! the last time I saw you-"

Cyclone cut him off "The last time you saw her she was 10 and I threw you out of my office."

Maverick wasn't capable of having a sheepish look to his face, but he tried his hardest. Billie smiled at the pilot and hugged him, though she wasn't entirely sure that it had been her in her uncle's office when the altercation has occurred. But, she wasn't one to make things awkward.

"So nice to see you again," she gave him a short bow and desperately tried to see through Bates as he was standing directly in front of the chair that had kept her interest.

"Maverick is working on a new team as a strike force. His group of graduates is right here," Bates stepped out of the way and she stared at the table. Well, she stared directly at one member of the table. She forced her eyes to leave as the names and callsigns were relayed to her, but there was only one she cared about.

"uhm, I'm Br-Bradley Bradshaw. I go by R-Rooster." His voice was more than she could've imagined. It was sweet and gruff and had a rasp to it that made the sweat prick on her skin. It was then that she realized that they were waiting on an introduction. Her uncle had already started for her.

"-but we usually refer to her as Billie or Ms. Simpson," the emphasis was put on the second of the two names and everyone caught the implication. She felt her cheeks go hot but she took a deep breath and forced herself to tear her eyes away from Bradley Rooster Bradshaw long enough to say hello.

"What you all do is incredible. Thank you for your service and your sacrifice." The table nodded in appreciation and then quickly scampered away once the Rear Admiral dismissed them.

"Alright kiddo, time for me to go and smoke a cigar outside while you enjoy yourself in here. And remember, anything that happens tonight..."

"...We don't tell Aunt Kelly, I remember." She smiled as her uncle headed towards the doors with some admiral whom she could never remember his name. She quickly walked to the bar and ordered her usual: gin and tonic. After a large gulp, she felt her nerves start to settle. What she hadn't noticed was the figure standing next to her looking at her expectantly.

"Hey there, sweetheart, I've never seen a Vice Admiral's niece before...." The Texan drawl was painfully thick and Billie turned quickly to see her culprit. The blond who had also been staring at her during their introductions tipped his fake cowboy hat and sidled up closer to her.

"What you mean," she retorted, "is you've never slept with a Vice Admiral's niece."

The man stepped back, a hand over his heart. "You wound me, m'lady. I made no such suggestion," he took two steps closer, she could feel his breath hot on her neck and ear as he brushed back part of her hair, "I've been with a few Vice Admiral's daughters, but I want to see where a niece stands in that lineup."

As he (Hangman? something dumb, she thought) continued to try and defend himself, she caught him from across the room. Bradley had locked onto her like a missle and he was pissed. She raised an eyebrow at him and then, while keeping eye contact, patted Hangman's arm and then his cheek in the most chastising way she could manage before she stepped away, heading to a nearby balcony, leaving two men stunned in her wake.

It didn't take long for Bradley to find the woman he had been hunting for. Honestly, he would've run after her after Hangman had pulled his stunt, but he wanted to here the dejected pilot's recounting of the story. Hangman downplayed it, but it was clear he was not used to being turned down by any one, especially one that came with such a high rank in the family.

"It's for the best, Bagman," Phoenix teased and reasoned, "You mess with her, the VA is gonna be up your ass and in all your business. There is no way this works out well, right, Fanboy?"

"Why'd you pick on me?! I didn't do anything and I had no idea that her brother was a Green Beret!" The group broke into peals of laughter as they headed for the bar. It was only Bob who noticed that one member of their party had quickly slipped away and was heading in the direction of a certain off-limits Vice Admiral's niece.

--------

Bradley stood in front of her completely frozen. She was facing out towards the balcony and had surely heard him come out, but he couldn't seem to find any words to explain what had happened that evening. Bradley realized he had no idea what love at first sight was or, honestly, what finding love meant, but he knew when he looked at her, his world stopped.

"I don't bite, Bradshaw," her voice was lilting and startled the pilot. "I'm glad you found me out here," she paused and Bradley thought he would fall over as he waited on her every last word, "though honestly, I'm not really sure what happened in there." He was grateful for her honesty and was relieved that she was just as confused as he was. Before he realized it he had stepped next to her at the balcony, completely oblivious to the view. She smiled at him and then dropped her eyes to his uniform.

"These things must be awful to dry clean," he hedged, eyes looked back up at him through her lashes. Bradley let out a honest-to-god laugh and she couldn't help the bubbling feeling she felt in her chest or the blush that tinged her cheeks. She noted every freckle, every scar, every wrinkle on his face. The way his lips were just the slightest bit crooked and the way his eyes glistened when he laughed.

"They are the absolute worst, but I can't imagine that emerald silk is much easier," he gestured to her gown and she felt the blush grow.

"I'll let you in on a secret- I stole this from my aunt, so I have no idea on the care and washing instructions."

Bradley chuckled and stepped infinitesimally closer to her, his calloused hands barely touching the fabric ruched ust below her hip. "I can't see Mrs. Vice Admiral wearing this, so thank god for you." He smiled at her and it was difficult to decipher between the dig at her aunt and the charmingness he was oozing. She decided it was clearly nerves and laughed with him.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Rooster, was it?"

"Ma'am, you may call me whatever you'd like, I'll always respond." The earnestness of his response caught her off guard, but made her melt just a bit more. She nodded curtly, dropping her gaze to her shoes, trying to hide the giggle and blush combination that was happening. Bradley smiled, meaning every word and pleased with the effect that it had on the woman in front of him. He took in as deep of a breath as his blues allowed him and held out his hand.

"While you think of a new nickname for me, may I have this dance, ma'am?" Before she realized it, her eyes shot up and looked at him concerned. If her uncle saw her dancing with someone, especially with someone who was in the Top Gun program and had been working with Maverick- she liked Bradley too much to let her uncle eat him alive.

Bradley was quick to note her hesitation, "Out here, I mean. The music is loud enough, we don't need to let you back into that room to wander into the immoral clutches of some godawful Navy pilot, right?" She smiled in relief and nodded, quickly taking Bradley's hand and swaying immediately to the music. His hand was placed on her lower back and she sighed, taking in the smell of him.

Bradley wanted to jump out of his skin. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened but he was damn glad that Payback and Harvard had dragged him to the dinner tonight. He made a mental note to gift them some nice whisky the next time he was out.

With every step, he took in another one of her features. Her smooth skin, her hair and they way it fluttered in the light breeze, her smell, the way her hand fit in his- he was completely enraptured.

"Bradley?" He let out a small 'mhmm?' his eyes still closed as he swayed with her. "I have to get back. I know my uncle is going to be looking for me and-"

"and you don't want a sacrificial death on your hands. I completely understand." Bradley looked down at her and pressed a hesitant kiss to her forehead. She blushed, but reached her arms around his neck pulling her lips flush against his. He was shocked but immediately melded into her, the touch electric to both parties.

The kiss was over as soon as it had started and she started to pull away, the slightest flush to her cheeks when Bradley grabbed her arm. "Your number. I have to see you again," she smiled and spotted a pen and paper on a nearby tray with a waiters book just inside the doorway of the balcony. She stepped out quickly and ripped out one of the pages and quickly scribbled down her name and number. He kissed the paper as she handed it to him and then leaned in again, kissing her quickly as the two exited the small balcony.

"There you are!" Her uncle's booming voice was off to her right as she waltzed back into the ballroom. "I'd like you to meet Rear Admiral Cain, he's one that worked with your dad way back." She smiled politely and all but jogged to be over by her uncle. It was almost imperceptible, but just the tiniest bit of her lipstick was smudged. Maverick happened to be in the next conversation over and looked at the Admiral's niece and then towards Rooster, all but laughing out loud when he noticed the smear of lipstick on his adopted nephews lips.

As the Vice Admiral started to make his exit, niece in tow, he turned to her.

"Thank you for coming tonight. I think your Aunt Kelly had a bit of a plan for both of us here," he smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. She laughed and nodded- she was there to relax her Uncle a bit and he was there to get her out amongst people again. As she opened her mouth to agree, it shut quickly-there was suddenly some commotion as they reached the doors.

"What the hell are they doing?" Her uncle groaned and then she saw it- the team she had met earlier (save for a sourpussed Texan) was cheering and a few had even lifted Rooster up on their shoulders as the pilot waved a piece of paper around. She turned bright red as Bradley caught her eye and waved the paper around. "Idiot must have gotten lucky on a bet..." she giggled and nodded with her uncle's assessment of the situation. She sent one last glance over her shoulder and it caused even more whooping and hollering from the group. Though he pretended not to notice it, Vice Admiral Beau Simpson could not have been more pleased.

"C'mon Billie, let's get you back home, it's movie night. Maybe some Kill Bill?"

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#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #tgm

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khytal · 1 year

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asoryuu trigun au

extra commentary (dgs2/trimax spoilers):

(quick note--some of the ages are a bit different from dgs to fit the roles better: kazuma is 27, susato is 25, and barok is 26)

-I really didn't want to make ryuunosuke blond so I went in the opposite direction, where his hair gets bleached instead every time he uses his power

-gave him and phoenix feather horns in reference to dragons

-phoenix's plant feathers look more ragged and almost flame-like

-susato and kazuma being closer in age is why she remarks on his eyes rather than his appearance being different

-kazuma is supposed to look older due to the experiments but like. he's got a very distinct appearance (stares at his stupid haircut) and I figure he doesn't have to shave often so he still looks a lot like he did when he was taken by the eye of michael

-susato meets haori at the bernardelli insurance company (they're the same age but susato's been working there a little longer than haori)

-barok was also at mikotoba's orphanage for a bit but vanished after an incident where reaper came out to protect him and one of the other children from a lone kidnapper (who was promptly killed)

-reaper is nowhere near as aggressive as razlo and is also selective about who he kills, seeking to eliminate criminals because it indirectly serves to keep barok safe too

-stronghart is chapel

-under the eye of michael barok and reaper are heavily brainwashed into believing kazuma needs to be eliminated and that's all I've got on that

-while barok is initially averse to killing, eventually he performs his duties as instructed (but hides his guilt, whereas reaper considers the act of murder to be necessary for justice and thus doesn't hesitate or feel any remorse)

-sholmes is the leader of the floating ship community. most of the dgs side characters live here

-during the 2yr timeskip ryuunosuke finds refuge with gina and gregson

-when kazuma introduces himself as genshin, susato immediately knows he's lying, but she thinks he won't open up if she pressures him so she lets it slide for the time being

-kazuma, for his part, somehow thinks he's successfully fooled susato and continues to pretend it's their first time meeting

-idk who rem would be; maybe lady baskerville or something idk

#dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ryuunosuke naruhodou #kazuma asougi #phoenix wright #susato mikotoba #haori murasame #barok van zieks #iris wilson #herlock sholmes #asoryuu #susahao #khyt.art #wheezes. hi #crossovers

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shelbgrey · 1 year

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Next to me(Emmett Cullen)

Chapter one: oh the tragedies.

Table of contents

~2000

On the small screen of the small video camera showed two small children and their smiley dad running around with superhero capes and light-sabers. The children's squeaky laughter made the screen shake as the mother controlling the camera laughed. The camera moved to the left and showed a man that had similarities to the father. He was a bit scruffy and slowly growing a mustache. He smiled brightly as he held his only daughter who was a bit younger than her.

The small children are Owen and y/n Swan. They smiled for their family and it always felt like home when they stayed with their uncle Charlie Swan. One of Charlie’s best friends was the other father. Despite the divorces and children in Phoenix it was always happy…

Keyword: was…

--------( 2008, present day)--------

The little boy is now older. The 14 year old with curly hair and leather walked around the familiar house with the same camera from long ago. The house that used to be somewhere existing to visit now became too familiar and permanent. The boy Owen walked around and the only vision he had of what he saw was through the tiny video camera. He walked around like the Swan home was something to document or something important. In all honesty the home was important but it sadly became a strong reminder of what’s lost.

“And…we’re rolling,” Owen whispered as he pointed the camera at the cracked mirror. His reflection showed as he showed a slight smirk like he was proud of what he had become. It wasn’t something grand but you should be proud of him for being him. In the reflection you see his chocolate brown eyes shielded by his steampunk goggles he always wears around his neck; a silver Jason Voorhees mask necklace is also always there too. His torso was clothed by a faded forest green crewneck and a black and white flannel that had few rips and noticeable stitches. It was his fathers flannel.

Owen mumbled some commentary for his video as he shuffled down the creaking hallway as he would occasionally point the camera left or right to show a few family photos.

“Moring” Owen said using his best George Weasley impression as he pointed the camera in his sister's room. His sister, now 18, sighed as she looked up from her sketchbook and pulled off her headphones(Probably listening to Elvis Presley). She sighed at him but still held a smile for her little brother.

“What are you doing Owen?” she asked. Owen didn’t answer right away and turned the camera around so both siblings were in the shot. “We're here in the rainy town of Forks and today we are lucky enough to talk to one of the local residents, anything to declare?”

She looked up and smiled. “I hate you,” she joked. Owen smiled and held his thumb up. “Love ya too sis”

Owen paused the recording and looked up at y/n as she slipped an old Elvis ‘68 comeback hoodie she stole from her grandfather long ago. She dreaded the day as she looked out the window, it was pouring down rain and it looked like it wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

“You okay?” Owen asked as he studied all the posters and art that was plastered all along her new room. There were a few horror movie posters here and there along with a few Harry Potter and Elvis Presley art.

Owen had taken the move particularly well, a little too well. That's what everyone else sees, but on the inside he felt like he was being swallowed from the inside out. He wanted to move on and live and make sure y/n did the same. That's what their mom and dad would have wanted.

“I'm fine, you want some breakfast?” she asked, walking past her brother. She stopped in the entryway and softly smiled. “You can record it if you want”

Owen’s heart slightly shook at how much that sounded like mom. That would be a running thing she would often tell y/n as she would always carry around that same camera. She wanted to be a filmmaker and special effect artist. Her mother was her biggest supporter and as the support faded away Owen picked up the camera and tried to give her the support she lost.

y/n guilt silently consumed her and if you looked at her you would never know. She jogged down the stairs and went into the kitchen as Owen recorded. As the siblings made it into the kitchen Owen set the camera on the counter that pointed at the oven. “This is cooking with the swan’s part…I dont know”

y/n pulled out some eggs, bacon, and some frozen hash browns. The two continued to cook while also keeping their voices down as their uncle Charlie was probably still asleep.

“Oh good you guys are up” Charlie said suddenly as he entered the kitchen in his work uniform. “Hay, uncle charles, you hungry” Owen smiled as he gave him a plate of food.

“Thanks kid” he mumbled as he poured himself some coffee. He leaned against the counter and sighed as he looked between the two siblings.

“After work I'm gonna get Bella from the airport” the siblings both nodded. The silence broke again as he shared looks with the both of them. “I want you guys to start school with her”

Owen and y/n shared concerned looks. It's been about two months and Charlie has been extremely understanding but staying at the house for hours on in and having to mentally prepare themselves to get in the car wasn’t healthy for anyone. They both knew it. Charlie wanted them to get on with their lives and be normal teens. But normal isn't going through the loss they did..but being a shapeshifter wasn’t normal either, at least to outsiders it wasn’t.

“I want to say I'm proud of you both…you’ve been handling the changes quite well and i think it would be good for the both of you to start school fresh with bella” charlie said.

“Okay…but don't get all mushy on us now uncle Charlie” Owen jokes. y/n giggled and charlie’s mouth broke into a smile.

“You guys know what I mean.. And thank for all your help getting things ready for her to come, i really appreciated it”

“Sure” y/n smiled.

“Of course,” Owen added.

Charlie nodded and pulled them both into a hug. “I know its hard, I miss them too”

“And promise me that both of you will try” Charlie added, both of the siblings nodded with solemn expressions. Charlie then said his good-byes to the both of them and headed to work.

As the door latched shut Owen clapped his hands together. “So…whatcha want to do today? Go to the res? Watch movies? Commit a felony?” y/n laughed at the last suggestion as she walked into the living room.

“Harry Potter marathon?” she suggested. Owen sighed kinda disappointed about being cooped up yet another day but he didn’t plan on leaving his sister today.

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roxannarambles · 1 year

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I was bored and wrote a drabble and it’s very silly (art is some official artwork although the context is never given for it so I’m inventing some context)

It had ended up being a bit of a tradition, now. The losers would treat the winners to dinner. At first, it was just casual trips to the noodle house, everyone crowded into the little resturtaunt, Gumshoe with his wide, easygoing grin as he drank his root beer, Maya slurping her noodles noisily, Edgeworth looking so laughably out of place as he gazed at Phoenix disdainfully from across the table, as if Maya's dreadful table manners were somehow his fault.

But one evening, after an especially gruelling 10-hour stint in court, when Phoenix had immerged victorious but had such little energy left at the moment of victory, he had emitted little more than a grateful whimper when the court finally, mercifully made its ruling-- it was then when Edgeworth had approached to shake his hand, smiled at him ruefully, and suggested a resturuant that offered meals with a little more substance than ramen.

That was how they'd ended up here, at some upscale Italian resturuant, and it was now Phoenix and Maya's turn to look out of place; Phoenix hoped his beraggled, cheap suit didn't look too sweaty, and his hair wasn't ruffled too ridiculously out of place from hours of running his hand through it nervously. Maya didn't look terribly excited at first with the fancy menus, containing choices she couldn't pronounce, but once the food came her eyes grew as wide as saucers and she inhaled things at a terrifying pace. Gumshoe, meanwhile, looked as though he was about to break down and cry right then and there. Phoenix chuckled and did his best to be the normal one of the group, quietly enjoying his mushroom carbonara (a choice Edgeworth had recommended to him and Phoenix had expected he would dislike-- he'd never been terribly fond of mushrooms before, too rubbery-- but he had been wrong to doubt him, the dish was so fantastic he was at risk of tearing up like Gumshoe was).

When the waiter had collected their dishes and inquired about dessert, Maya's boisterious demands were impossible to suppress, although Phoenix tried very hard to, as Edgeworth had already treated them so generously. However, Edgeworth dismissed him with an easy wave, and so they each selected something from the dessert menu. Phoenix had a raspberry gelato which was surprisingly delicious but the scoop was too small for his tastes (why would anyone bother with dessert if it's such a small portion??). After he'd finished it, he watched Edgeworth delicately eating his tiramisù with envy. Meanwhile, Maya was wolfing down a big cannoli. Phoenix said something snarky to Maya about how she was likely bypassing her tastebuds by eating so fast, and Edgeworth remarked that was interesting commentary from the man who had finished his dessert in under thirty seconds (Maya guffawed).

"Hey! It wasn't my fault the scoop they gave me was so tiny," Phoenix lamented, still gazing longingly at Edgeworth's dessert. Edgeworth quirked one of his elegant brows. In a voice that somehow sounded both deeply exasperated and amused at once, he asked,

"Do you wish to sample my tiramisù?"

Phoenix's eyes lit up as if he was just offered the keys to the pearly gates. With almost childlike glee, he asked,

"You'll let me?"

Something flitted briefly across Edgeworth's face, an expression Phoenix couldn't identify; the man had paused midway from bringing a forkful of the fluffy dessert to his mouth. He seemed to deliberate for a second or two.

And then, with just a little twist of a smile, Edgeworth held the forkful of dessert out across the table towards Phoenix, those silver eyes settled entirely on him.

Phoenix's eyes widened and a flush fanned out across his face. Maya stopped eating, and he could feel her astonished stare.

Edgeworth's gaze didn't waver, that small hint of a smile edging a little further into his expression, and he spoke with the same calm, silky tone he often used in court;

"Well, Wright?"

Phoenix suppressed the shiver threatening to run through him, his short-circuiting brain struggling to parse what was going on (Edgeworth was teasing him? He was being mocked? That's what this was, right?)

After the half-second it took his brain to decide this, Phoenix felt his body taking over automatically, leaning forward and taking the forkful of dessert into his mouth obediantly. As he leaned back into his chair and tasted it, his eyes rolled closed and whined,

"Oh, god."

It was so light and fluffy and heavenly, why the heck hadn't he ordered this instead? He heard Edgeworth emit a noise that sounded startled and almost a little strangled. Phoenix's eyes popped back open, but it seemed Edgeworth had quickly gone back to eating his dessert, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Although, he was gazing quite steadily down at the table, and in the fancy candlelight of their booth, it almost looked as though his cheeks were dusted with just a bit of pink.

"All right, next time I'm defering to your judgment for the desserts," Phoenix commented wryly. Smoothly, Edgeworth shot back,

"Next time? Next time you'll be paying and we shall be dining once more on overcooked ramen."

Phoenix crossed his arms and barked a laugh.

"Oh, you wanna bet? Those are pretty bold words for someone who's on a losing streak."

He looked to Maya for backup, but she was still looking at the both of them with a rather befuddled expression.

"A wager, hmm? Interesting," Edgeworth hummed, pausing a moment before proposing,

"Then the next case, winner takes all? Whoever loses shall pay for all future outings going forward."

Phoenix hesitated, stammering,

"U-uh . . . all of them?"

Sounding a little alarmed, Maya cut in,

"Hold on, Nick, let's not start making bets we might regret . . ."

Edgeworth smirked,

"Stakes too high, Wright?"

Miffed, Phoenix shot back,

"It's a deal!"

"Nick."

Phoenix glanced to her.

"What? You don't think we'll win?"

She heaved a sigh and answered,

"Look, of course I have faith in us! But, c'mon, even you know a lot of our last win was due to some really great luck. What if our luck runs out next time? And . . . and then we'll never see the inside of this resturaunt ever again. . ."

Her forlorn expression caused Phoenix's confidance to immediately falter. He gazed across the table at the beautiful pudding that his rival was finishing off. Okay, damn. Maybe this was gonna bite him in the butt. Phoenix's lower lip quivered as he pondered the tragic possibility he'd never taste such heaven ever again. Or at least until he could actually afford to pay for eating at a place like this. That could be quite a while.

Edgeworth said grimly,

"Then you'd best savor it while you still can."

All right, that was just mean. He was gonna make Maya cry. Or him.

Arching a brow, Edgeworth gestured at Phoenix with another forkful of dessert and added,

"You look regretful, Wright. Perhaps you'd like me to feed you the rest of my tiramisù?"

Phoenix tried to respond but his rapid inhalation sent him choking on his own spit, and he fell into a coughing fit, face heating, as he choked out,

"HAha that's, that's COUGh, all right--"

Later, when Edgeworth had dropped them off and they were walking back, Maya was unusually quiet. Curious, Phoenix glanced to her.

She was staring at him, eyes narrowed. Exasperated, Phoenix asked,

"What?"

She gesticulated wildly as she spoke.

"What d'you mean 'what?' What the heck was all that at dinner?! It's bad enough you guys have this weird constant sexual tension in court, but now I gotta deal with this crap at dinner, too--"

Phoenix yelped out,

"S-s-sexual t-tension?! Wh-what are you talking about--"

Maya looked at him in a way that reminded him far too much of how she looked when she was humoring her small cousin.

"Uh-huh, sure, you have no clue what I'm talking about. And why exactly are you blushing like a schoolboy?"

Phoenix tried to level a glare at her-- normally he didn't mind how cheeky Maya could be, but this was crossing a line here!

"Hey, maybe I'm just really uncomfortable with you referring to my childhood friend and trusted, reliable partner in such an--"

Maya cut in,

"Partner?"

Phoenix spluttered,

"WORK partner, I meant WORK partner!-- in, in . . . in such an inappropriate w-way!"

#narumitsu #wrightworth #tropes #mystuff #fanfic #ace attorney #my narumitsu fanfic

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weakforarwen · 2 years

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The Eye of the Phoenix is such a good episode! It has adventure! humor! Gwen! Gwaine! Arwen! Merlin and Gwen! Merlin and Gwaine!

The episode's opening scene is one of the show's best. The solemnity of the entire affair: Arthur in all white, barefooted, ready to kneel all night to receive guidance from the spirits of the ancient Kings. The fact that he didn't fall asleep and actually went into a transe tells me that Gaius 100% slipped him something. Dude probably hallucinated his whole mission, but, really, it was all the Fisher King's doing, right?

It's hilarious that Uther and Arthur were anti magic and superstition but believed the spirits of the ancient Kings could communicate with them. Even funnier is that the mission was to find the resting place of an ancient King, who had also been a warlock, and steal a Trident from him. In the path to the Fisher King Arthur even encountered magic. The hypocrisy... Make it make sense. Arthur risked his life just to steal a useless Trident from an old King and keep it as a trophy. Men are the worst. Arthur's happiness when he found the shabby looking Trident was hilarious though. Merlin and Gwaine's reactions were priceless. What was even the point of the whole quest? Uther was really all about old-fashioned tradition. One of the biggest days in Arthur's life was praying on his knees to figure out which useless quest he was supposed to embark on alone, knowing that to succeed on his chosen mission meant he was ready to become King, because we all know stealing someone else's riches is the hallmark of a great King... Like Merlin said, it was a glorified treasure hunt.

Anyway, the opening scene was hilarious. Gwen and Merlin making fun of Arthur was everything:

G: What's he actually doing? M: Thinking. G: About? M: You. Shhh. He has to decide upon a quest. G: And crouching on his knees all night is going to help? M: Yes. He has to transcend his body so that the quest is revealed to him in a vision. G: And you're going to stay here and watch him? M: Gwen, this is one of the most important days in a prince's life.

Perfect. Cute and funny and everything. Arthur's a dumbass but he's their dumbass.

The episode was really funny overall. I liked all the Arthur and Merlin scenes, even those where Merlin was hiccuping and disturbing Arthur's "concentration". The entire episode was just making fun of Arthur for being so serious about such a stupid tradition and it was wonderful.

When Gwaine and Arthur finally rescued Arthur and he was angry they interrupted his quest, I could honestly relate. I'm like that when my parents bother me even if they are technically helping me. I'm a brat, same as Arthur. Merlin was so indulgent though, in a fond yet exasperated way. To be fair, Arthur had probably been dreaming all his life about following in his ancestors' footsteps and going on an adventure to prove he was worthy of becoming King - we know Arthur loves to prove himself in useless ways - and yet he had to be rescued by his servant and Gwaine. I guess I can understand why he felt annoyed... But what I can't understand is how he didn't wonder why he'd been so sleepy? It's like he forgot he'd been on the verge of passing out for no reason the whole time. How did he justify that?

Also, how did Merlin find Gwaine? How did he know which town or kingdom he was in? He wasn't in Camelot, right? And he found Gwaine so quicky? They didn't have GPS or cars. Just horses and faulty maps...

Gwaine was such a blast. I adore his friendship with Merlin and how he wasn't impressed by Arthur - who, btw, didn't even say thank you to Gwaine for saving his life, but did say he wouldn't forget what he'd done. The last time I watched this episode, Arthur's ungratefulness bothered me, but this time it amused me. I think he was grateful and acting annoyed was his way of showing he felt safe and comforted to not be alone anymore. Even the part where Merlin asked for a day off and Arthur said no was endearing this time.

I just wished we'd had more Arwen (their kiss was super cute, and Gwen's surprise and delight was adorable, but I wanted to see their reunion and not just Gwen being happy Arthur had come back safe), and at least one Gwaine/Gwen moment! We were robbed of their friendship. They were so cute in the Gwaine episode, but we got nothing after that. I know Gwaine wasn't allowed back in Camelot, but even just a mention of Gwen by Gwaine would've been great!

On a more serious note, Arthur did well on his stupid quest. He was dying it but he almost made it without help. Even though it wasn't his quest, he proved himself still.

Now, the Fisher King... I had a theory that he was another Emrys and/or Arthur's predecessor, and that thought stands, but I'm very confused by him. He was like Merlin and Arthur in one, but what does that mean for the characters?

The Fisher King was immortal and had magic, but was his purpose, like Merlin, to help Arthur? He said he could finally die now that the age of the Once and Future King was upon them, which could mean he'd been waiting for his successor. He'd been a legendary King, like Arthur was destined to become, and Morgana's bracelet killed him. It had been made for Arthur but wearing the bracelet was enough to kill him without him needing to spell it... because he was Arthur's kin? Or was it a plot hole? The Fisher King lived centuries and served Albion in its hour of need by helping Merlin. With his death, the curse upon his lands was lifted, so he saved his Kingdom one last time too. But he hadn't been Albion's True King. Perhaps that made him another Emrys, for it was also Merlin's job to save Albion? The Fisher King hadn't waited for Arthur; it had been Merlin's quest to find him, not Arthur's. According to him, only Merlin could save Albion. But wasn't that Arthur's destiny? Or would Arthur only save Albion after he became the Once and Future King? Until then, it was up to Merlin? It's so hard to separate Arthur and Merlin's destinies; they're one and the same, really, but this was another episode that made me wonder why Albion needed Arthur at all if it seemed Merlin was meant to do everything? Is it because Arthur had political power and an Army?

As for Morgana, Gwen clearly saw her do magic and went to Gaius because she felt scared and didn't know what to do. So why didn't she tell Arthur? She feared Morgana and Gaius confirmed her suspicions. Had she been trying to spare Morgana's life and wait to see what else she'd do? But she still kept quiet after Queen of Hearts, when she knew of Morgana's betrayal... She may not have had proof, but that didn't matter. Would Arthur have told Gwen her eyes tricked her when she saw Morgana practice magic? Would he have told her Morgana's unusual behavior was due to the drama she'd experienced while she was gone? Would he have dismissed Gaius and Merlin's suspicions too? I can imagine Arthur doing all that, but I can also imagine Gwen being able to convince him. Not telling Arthur was a betrayal in itself...

#bbc merlin #bbc arthur #bbc gwen #bbc arwen #bbc morgana #bbc gwaine #merlin #arthur pendragon #gwen pendragon #arwen #morgana #gwaine #the eye of the phoenix commentary #the eye of the phoenix

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askaceattorney · 23 days

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Dear Charcla,

They're brown. I'm confused how you could have made such a mistake.

- Iris

#charicla #Iris #Phoenix Wright #Ace Attorney #Mod Commentary #I did use a color dropper on Phoenix's eyes years ago and even in SOJ they are brown but have a glare to them that makes them look blue #It was the same with Maya's eyes

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jomiddlemarch · 3 months

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You’re responsible for your rose

“Beltane, sex magic, and a botanical aphrodisiac,” Hermione said.

Someone who knew her less well than Draco did would have thought she was incredulous.

Though, to be fair, a year ago, Draco himself would have thought she was incredulous.

She was analyzing. He’d been willing to wager the contents of Malfoy Manor’s East Wing that she was developing a runic arithmantic composite set of equations to determine the odds of success.

That was because he’d wisely chosen botanical aphrodisiac for the phrase Neville had used, quoting the blithely unconcerned Luna.

Sex pollen.

If he’d said sex pollen, all bets would be off.

And their chances of having a child would be nil.

Lower than nil. Like a Dementor had got a hold of nil and sucked all its joy in nil-ness of it and left a little nil-husk.

(He’d been up most of the night before trying to figure out the most effective verbal workaround for sex pollen and had still put in a full day at the British legal division of the International Confederation of Wizards trying to reconcile the Tasmanians to the valid claims of the trans-Aeolian merpeople. It had left him a bit punchy.)

“When you consider it, as I know you are, you’ll agree that it makes sense. Synergistically and intuitively. Neville said—”

“You talked to Neville?” she interrupted, her cheeks turning pink, her dark eyes lit up. Someone less familiar with her might imagine she was angry. Well, maybe she was a little angry.

“Of course I talked to Neville, sweetheart,” Draco said, striving for the calm tone that would engender an answering calm in her and not the one that tipped her over into a seething cauldron of piqued ire. “He’s our closest friend, he’s the most brilliant Herbologist in the British Isles, and no one understands the impact of one of Bellatrix’s curses better than he does.”

“That’s true,” she said.

“And he’s the only one who Luna reliably answers and we agreed she would have an invaluable perspective on our situation,” Draco said. Hermione dropped her shoulders, a sign that she was sufficiently convinced.

“I hate that we have to ask,” she said. It was rare for her to admit it. She had decided upon a nearly invariable, inviolable determined cheer as her approach, which served her well in the face of the advice tendered, generally unasked for, by various Weasleys (though never Bill or Fleur, who had permanently endeared themselves to Draco therein), both Patils, Minerva McGonagall, and the cadre of “fertility specialists” that St. Mungo’s purported to have, though their expertise had been based on outdated herbals, a faulty grasp of lunar charms, and a misguided belief in the addition of gigglewort to any Potion.

She had not reacted well to the gigglewort. And her insincere gales of laughter had not done much for his stamina. His climax had been due solely to hydraulics that time.

“I know,” he said. He’d learned not to offer any additional commentary that started with But. But our friends don’t mind helping. But it’s what we need to do. But if we don’t, there won’t be a brown-eyed baby with curly blond hair to be carried in one of those Muggle baby-rucksack contraptions.

“I thought when Riddle died and she was gone, it would be over,” Hermione said. “And it’s not.”

She was Bellatrix, his aunt, the witch who had cursed Hermione under the Malfoy chandelier, a moment which had been the inflection point for Draco, landing him squarely, irretrievably in Hermione’s court, Order of the Phoenix, falling in love with a woman he had never expected to do more than nod civilly at him and hold her tongue. Bellatrix had added something to the Crucio-carving combination she’d unleashed on Hermione, something purely Black, something Voldemort would not have recognized nor approved, a waste of her power on extinguishing an enemy. It had made it well-night impossible for Hermione to conceive with a Pureblood, let alone another member of the Black family.

Andromeda, when consulted, had shut her eyes for a long moment and muttered Toujours pur, before offering a pat on the shoulder and offer of a slice of apple tart. She’d also been the one to point out Hermione would have met the same fate had she married a Longbottom, Weasley, Prewett or Potter.

(It was worse marrying a Black. She might have carried a Squib to term with another Pureblood.)

(It had taken three miscarriages to convince Hermione it wasn’t simply bad luck. Draco had had his suspicions after the first, when she’d jerked away when he touched the arm still scarred with Mudblood in Bellatrix’s jagged script.)

(He hadn’t told her what he suspected. He wished to be colossally wrong. He had a decent track record in that regard.)

“It is and it isn’t. Like the tide on the shore,” Draco said. The visual soothed him and Hermione had a fondness for the ocean, memories of trips to the seaside as a child. It could possibly help.

She took a long breath and harrumphed it out in a way he found endlessly adorable. She also used it when she’d lost her latest match of Wizarding chess to Ron, whom Draco tolerated because what else could he do and at least the man, grown up (so far up, truly, were there Giants somewhere in the Prewett line because the man was a bloody tower), had learned to appreciate Hermione and smiled at Draco, a little secret smile, when she furrowed her brow squinting at the board, moving a piece that was going to put her into check in another two moves.

“Beltane isn’t a problem,” she said. “Unless, do we have to be naked in the woods?”

“No, indoors, you in lingerie works,” Draco said, grinning.

Luna had suggested they couple on a ley-line and not to discount the amplification of earth magic and bad puns. Draco planned to save that suggestion for another time.

“For the sex magic, Coniugalis? Procreo melior? Izorratu?” she said.

Draco reached over and picked up her left hand, the one with the ring he’d given her. He cast windlessly exclusively with his right hand and he let her feel the magic warm across his palm.

“Witch’s choice, I believe,” he said. “I’ve heard tell Izorratu is the most fun.”

“I suppose having fun isn’t a confounding variable,” she said.

“Might even help,” he said.

“Do we really have to use sex pollen, Draco?” she asked.

“I said botanical aphrodisiac,” he replied.

“Right, but I knew you meant sex pollen,” she said. “It’s so…campy.”

“Like, camping? Tents and fishing? Too much like your great Horcrux Hunt?” he said.

“No, like badly written media. Like Celestina Warbeck covering Elton John,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t already want you.”

“I assure you, that’s mutual,” he said. “I can check with Neville. He’d be the one harvesting the pollen for us.”

“I wonder, you said botanical aphrodisiac. Maybe we can just use chocolate?” Hermione said.

Draco considered. Hermione had previously demonstrated some delightfully unrestrained randiness after consuming a chocolate lava cake, a pudding whose name had made him turn up his nose while she insisted it was haute cuisine among Muggles. There had been so much heartbreak and misery in the past several months and if it didn’t work, they could take a break and wait for the next Beltane. Or she might want to try that in-vitro thing her parents had mentioned, even if it was going to require Confunding some Muggles in the NHS to accomplish.

“I don’t see why not,” he said, then paused while an idea occurred to him. “Truffles might split the difference.”

“What?”

“We could see whether Hannah can whip up some chocolate truffles with passionfruit filling and dust the top with the pollen,” Draco said. “Less campy, more romantic?”

“You are terribly clever, aren’t you?” she said.

“I’m clever enough to have married the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” he replied.

Later, Draco decided it was relocating to the charming, high-end inn on a ley-line that was responsible for the triplets and that if they’d stayed home and gobbled the truffles in their bedroom, Hermione wearing a pair of woolly socks and nothing else, Scorpius and Leo would not have been accompanied by Roseline. He didn’t mention this to anyone but Luna still caught his eye and winked when she saw him.

She didn’t have to lobby him to become his daughter’s godmother. They did, however, have a lengthy discussion about the risks of any Fae involvement, with Draco a hard no. Luna only said.

“We’ll see. And I mean, Roseline and me. And perhaps her mother. And Scorpius. Leo is most obviously 100% in agreement with you.”

Leo, at that moment, was fast asleep.

Draco did not argue.

Tagging @ficwip for the Hey Sweetheart 2024

#hey sweetheart #dramione #tw: miscarriage #tw: infertility #tw: trauma #other than that #humor #tropes #romance #happily married #epilogue what epilogue #hermione x draco #BFF Neville #luna lovegood #ron weasley #worldbuilding #angst and fluff #babyfic

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perky89 · 6 months

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I want to talk Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright. Specifically, regarding its less talked about themes of religion.

Major Spoilers for Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright.

Trigger Warning: Discussions of Suicide, Toxic Religion, Heavens Gate Suicide

Newton Belduke was canonically polytheistic, as we can see in his suicide note. And his beliefs mostly likely played at least some role in his decision to commit suicide.

"I hope you will be able to forgive me for leaving this world of my own will. I have finally made this decision, having seen that accursed bell tower appear in the flames on that dreadful night. That lightning was a sign that we have angered the gods."

There's a good chance that Arthur is religious, too.

Phoenix: "What? It's (Project Labyrinthia) a government project? But what would be their stake in this?"

Arthur: "...It's all because of my beliefs."

"Beliefs" does not always have to mean religious beliefs, but in this case, I think it does. The way that Newton talks in his suicide note implies that they both share similar polytheistic beliefs. Newton didn't say "I" have angered the gods, he said "we."

Let's look at Labyrinthia itself. Arthur places himself as an omnipotent, omnibenevolent God: He controls everything. He is seen as all good by the townsfolk, who all adore him.

Adore him to the point where when Luke tries to suggest that the Story Arthur writes won't come true, he and Layton are openly mocked by the townsfolk, and then openly threatened by the knights, and would have been arrested if they hadn't run away and hid. And even then, they got hunted down until the knights gave up.

And if that wasn't enough, let's look at how the townsfolk react when something good happens vs when something bad happens.

At the Storytellers parade when Layton and Luke first arrive in Labyrinthia, we get commentary from a few people in the crowd. One thanks him for her giving birth to a baby girl. Another thanks her that her grandmother has healed from sickness. But when a witch comes and kills somebody? They blame the witch, BURN the witch even.

Even more than that, let's look at Arthur's "death" in the final case of the game. One that they know he wrote, that they know he chose. That he openly declares will happen. They still try to burn Espella.

So, what are the takeaways we get from this game? Now, I get to the points of this little Tumblr essay I've written.

Point 1, many people do bad things for the sake of a religion that they truly believe. In other words, not just using religion as a cover up to do bad things, but doing awful things they genuinely believe are justifiable because of their religious beliefs. And sometimes, those beliefs hurt even themselves. Part of why Arthur started Labyrinthia was his religious beliefs. Likewise, part of why Newton committed suicide was he believed he had angered the gods he believed in.

In the real world, many religious people preach against transgenderism, homosexuality, abortion, and other issues of human rights. I believe the majority of these people have the best of intentions. They genuinely believe that these things will send people to eternal suffering, and want to save people from that eternal suffering. Likewise, I believe Arthur Cantabella had the best of intentions as well. I think, in his eyes, his gods wanted him to give these people new lives in Labyrinthia. They wanted him to do all this to help his daughter recover from her PTSD. He genuinely believed that, and it's part of what led him to do what he did (Espella, was, of course, the primary reason, as the game thoroughly established).

People can hurt themselves, intentionally or unintentionally, for the sake of their religion as well. I, like many other ex-Evangelical Christians, when I was Evangelical, was very hard on myself whenever I messed up and sinned. I once went to a youth conference where I and hundreds of other kids and adults were preached to that whenever we committed a sin, which the Bible says everyone does, we were saying we hated God. This, of course, does not equate to Newton Belduke's suicide. My purpose of using this example was to show how people, like Newton, can and do physically and/or emotionally hurt themselves for the sake of following their religious beliefs, and also to be sure that I used common, everyday examples, and not just extreme ones.

To get into a more extreme example that more closely resembles Newtons situation, the Heavens Gate cult suicide. 39 people committed suicide under the genuine belief that after they did so, they would be taken up in a spaceship, and avoid being on the earth during it's soon to come end times. The main reason Newton committed suicide I think was the guilt of having all these people under mind control. But as we can see from his suicide note, his belief that he had angered his gods certainly added to it.

In conclusion for point number 1, one of several lessons Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright teaches us is that the misuse of religion can and has led people to harming themselves and others, as Arthur and Newton did.

Point number 2, many people can and are pushed away, sometimes even kicked out religions entirely, for questioning religions and/or their leaders. And this even happens among religions. Lots of people, if you don't agree with their exact theological beliefs, shun you and are very rude in trying to correct you. I have seen it so many times online, and it has even happened to me. Countless people have left the religion their parents raised them with, and have been cut off by their entire family. This especially happens in more strict, extreme religions, such as Jehovahs Witnesses. In some countries, you can be arrested and shot for not following that countries national religion.

The exact same thing that happened to Layton and Luke when they first entered Labyrinthia happens in real life. Like they were openly condemned for not believing in the Story, people are openly mocked online and told they're going to hell for not following a specific set of theological beliefs. Like Layton and Luke had to run to prevent from being arrested, people have had to do that in certain countries, as well.

In conclusion for point number 2, another lesson that we learn from Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright is that many people misuse religion and believe their religion is the absolute only way that anyone should live, and they go so far as to shame and hurt other people for the sake of spreading their religion.

Point number 3, the double standards in modern religion. In several modern religions, many, but not all, of their followers take a similar approach to their god or gods as the Labyrinthia citizens do to Arthur. When something goes great, they thank their god or gods. When something goes bad, they blame a negative figure in their religion, other people, or no one. Or, often, if they do attribute the cause of something going bad to their god or gods, they say that their god or gods had a good reason, or a purpose, behind what happened. While, if they blame an evil figure in their religion, that figure just did it because they were evil. If a person did it, they did so because they were misinformed or also evil.

I certainly understand why this approach is taken. We as humans, religious or not, all have bias. Me, personally, when my best friend does something wrong, I say "Well, we all make mistakes." When someone I don't like does something, I say "Well they're just a (insert one or several curse words here)." Though it's an understandable double standard, it's still a double standard.

In conclusion for point number 3, a lesson Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright teaches us is that the misuse of religion of a lack of critical thinking within can lead to it's followers having double standard about it's religious figures.

One last thing before I wrap this up. While writing the conclusions for each point, you'll notice I emphasized "the misuse of religion." Certainly, religion can be misused and terrible can and have resulted. But it is not always misused. Religion can and has been used to do wonderful things, too. My best friends mom, who is protestant, got cancer, and a group of Catholics paid for all of her medical treatment and even brought her groceries. People have used religion to publicly encourage the love and acceptance of others. Jesus, in the New Testament, preached about loving each other and about helping those in need. The United Church of Christ actively promotes LGBTQIA+ rights, diversity. Several religions promote helping people and being kind to others. Every Muslim I have every met has been nothing but sweet. Believing in a good afterlife helps a lot of peoples anxiety about death. Religion helps many people find community and friends, as it did for me, though my former religion and myself have largely parted ways now. And when I told my friends in church that I had left Christianity, I wasn't shunned or pushed away, I was loved and embraced with open arms. Critical thinking was and is still encouraged, as it anti-racism.

Case and point, religion does not always have to be a bad thing. It can be beautiful, and it can be horrid. But that's not just religion, that's almost anything, ever. The fault for bad things happening is, for the most part, not the religions, but the followers who misuse it. What Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright does is show us happens when religion is misused.

and er...that's my unprofessional essay lol. while we're on the topic of religion, Imma pray that this goes well LOL

#professor layton #hershel layton #phoenix wright #ace attorney #laywright #plvsaa #plvspw #professor layton vs ace attorney #professor layton vs phoenix wright #religion #theology

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macabremoons · 10 months

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Even Forever Takes Breaks

TW: Power imbalance, possessive behavior, sicko for sicko romance, and general dark themes. Be safe!

A/N: Thank you to @sugar-phoenix for editing this. She's so good at it omg. Also to @wipsbymor for convincing me to post this LOLL. I don't know how canon this is ngl. Right now I'm just writing short stories to get a feel for the WIP.

I haven’t seen Grimoire in five days.

I wish I could say that I was happy about it, yet there’s a lack of giddiness in my chest. Instead of popping champagne and cheering, I find myself waiting for him to come back.

I don’t miss his company. This much I am sure of. It’s just that when a parasite settles within you for so long, it’s odd to be without it. I can’t feel eyes on me when I should be alone. There’s none of his idiotic commentary. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve heard one of his gorey promises. I know he’s coming back. Just as the rooster knows when to sing its call, just as the moon knows when to come out and when to go to sleep, just as the seasons pass, Grimoire will be back.

The clock ticks in the corner, and I try my best not to stare at it.

I go to my advisory meetings as if nothing is wrong. I can tell my advisors notice Grimoire’s absence, but my eyes are too sharp for them to ask questions. They bow just as deeply even without Grimoire glaring at them from over my shoulder.

“Queen Sabelina, the people have faith in your might and have requested that you defend them from the neighboring country,” Horus, one of my least favorite advisors, says. He stands to reach over the map resting on the long table. “The kingdom appears to have this small providence surrounded. I am happy that they have sought you out, but it’d be near fruitless to try to help them. We would lose money and men—”

“Lord Horus, what house do you belong to?” I interrupt. Horus goes still, and I can see his mouth slightly twitch downwards.

“The House of Griffin. We have served the thrones for centuries.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Being loyal to the throne does little to comfort me. I am not centuries old. I know some question my claim to the throne. Someone loyal to the throne might even betray me.

“Yes, and when your house nearly fell to ruin a century ago, did my forefather abandon you? Did he not come to your aid?”

I watch as denials run to the tip of his tongue. I’m sure he hates being compared to commoners. “He did, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” I say, standing. “I was afraid for a moment you had forgotten. This kingdom refers to me as their Blood Queen, and what use is a queen drenched in blood if it is not the blood of her enemies? An attack on any part of my country is a personal attack against me, and should be taken as a personal attack to everyone in this room.”

“Say we lose this town.” I look at the map. “Whithallow. Who is to say our enemies will stop here?”

My advisors stare up at me, and I do not let down my gaze. For a moment, I think that they will disagree with me. All of their familiars are close to their person, stored in their brooches, yet mine is empty. They could easily kill me. I’m sure Horus wants to.

Lorin speaks up. “Perhaps we are just unused to seeing a monarch so enthused about protecting their people.”

I narrow my eyes. “Well I’m here now.”

Another advisor I haven’t bothered to remember the name of speaks up. “Surely though, Your Majesty, you do not view your men as so disposable? The houses have been doing the work of the throne for longer than the history books can accurately scribe.”

“The houses are important,” I agree, sweeping my gaze over them, “but they are just one part of the kingdom. A very powerful part, but still very small. Am I to reject all my subject’s care to coddle you with golds and silvers?”

“Of course not—”

“Then we answer my people’s call and tell them we are on our way. Meeting adjourned.”

They leave wordlessly, and I slump back into my chair. I see it now: I am a fool in their eyes. They bow their heads because of my claim to power, but just as I yanked the throne any one of them could as well. Without Grimoire, there is no Blood Queen, just Sabelina.

I curl into bed defeated and cold and close my eyes so I can pretend I’ll get any sleep tonight. Before I can spiral too much, the bed dips, and I sit up quickly.

It’s him. There’s tears in his eyes as he leans closer to me, and I allow him to embrace me in a tight hug.

“Please, do not make me leave you for any longer,” he says, face buried into my neck. “There is no moon without your presence. No stars, no gravity, no reason for me to go on. Scorn me as much as you like it. I welcome your anger, just do not make me leave you.”

“I’m surprised you listened.”

“You commanded it. Due to our bond I had to.”

Oh. I feel stupid now. With as powerful as Grimoire is, it is easy to forget that he is my familiar.

“You… may come back.” He doesn’t move. “I have to sleep, Grim. Get off.”

Grimoire shifts to his side. His arms go stiff to his side. I want to turn away, to look away, but I am so stunned by the fact that he’s truly back at my side.

“Tomorrow I will schedule a meeting with my advisor to discuss some battle plans.” I pause, suddenly embarrassed. “Perhaps you could scare them. Just a little.”

He jerks his head. “Anything you wish, my love.”

For once, as I close my eyes to sleep, Grimoire’s intense stare does not unnerve me.

I did not miss him, I tell myself. I think it, so it must be true.

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added): @lyra-brie, @immortaladrien

#my bloody masterpieces #my writing #project forevermore #fiction #short story

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tarisilmarwen · 9 months

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Rebels Rewatch: "Flight Of The Defender"

We go for a fly and a ride, and the ancient guardians of Lothal awaken.

Live reaction version.

KITTIES! :DDDDDD

We're revisiting allll the familiar locations this season aren't we?

The bright bouncy tones of the opening cue and this particular area of Lothal still looking relatively pristine and untouched are bit of a mood whiplash from last episode. (But then of course the Empire can't have mining crawlers getting too close to its landing strips, the smoke would interfere with pilots' visuals.)

It's vaguely implied that Ezra connects with these Loth-cats, possibly even calls them? They're immediately eager to help when the Rebels need a distraction and it's definitely possible they read Ezra's intentions and were like, "HELP FRIEND."

"The Empire has been fortifying their anti-aircraft defenses." Ha ha yeah you run afoul of those later don't you?

"And there are some new fuel tanks near the factory." *SOBS ENDLESSLY*

Also:

This contrast is immediately horrible. "Zero Hour" was three weeks from the start of this season. "In The Name Of The Rebellion" a couple days out from their victory at Mandalore. It's not clear how much time elapsed between then and "The Occupation" but it can't have been too long, Ezra was already agitated about Lothal after parting with Saw and his words still seem fresh on his mind in "The Occupation". (And as a side comment, I love how deeply connected to Lothal Ezra is, that he could sense the danger Ryder's group was in across that distance.)

This complete burnishing of the grasslands happened within a few weeks to a couple months.

I noted in my original liveblog that Ezra uses "Phoenix 6" randomly here, instead of the usual "Spectre 6", that Hera also calls him. I'm still confused about if that was a mistake or not or if they use the callsigns interchangeably.

I cannot emphasize enough how well they portray the TIE Defender Elite here. It is so fast, so maneuverable, they manage to make it move like a fighter jet. It never looks clunky or unwieldy, just sleek and quick and able to turn seamlessly on a dime.

And predictably my ship will be spending a lot of quality time together this episode, as Ezra immediately assigns himself to come with Sabine onto the dangerous Imperial-filled airstrip. <3

Yeah no I think Ezra definitely connected with the Loth-cats prior to this and they decided they liked him enough to volunteer. He didn't specifically call them or influence them but I like the idea that he's just... open enough in the Force to them right now, so connected to Lothal itself, that they became his allies anyway.

Possibly it was this general openness that called the Loth-wolf to him too.

Anyway, let this be a lesson to never antagonize the cats. Or any of the local wildlife for that matter.

Snippets of the Imperial March as the shuttle sets down, and then a couple blaring notes recalling "Thrawn's Web". Something interesting musically I've touched upon in my commentary but I'm reminded of again hearing this: Thrawn is nearly always musically represented in the score with organs. The organ is an instrument we basically never hear in the Rebels score until Thrawn enters the picture, so any time you hear the hint of an organ note, you can immediately recognize Thrawn's presence.

Aaaaaand there's "Thrawn's Web" playing out more fully.

There's an interesting chime here that plays when the wolf first catches Ezra's eye, it's overlaid by strings and synths and the little vertigo effect the camera uses on Ezra and the way the music abruptly cuts out when Ezra's discovered almost makes it seem like the wolf drew him into some kind of brief trance.

My son just rolls with it, decides to absolutely embrace the chaos he's capable of generating, love it.

"Well Ezra, you certainly got their attention." "I'M GLAD THIS IS WORKING FOR YOU!" I laugh every time I swear, lololol.

I remarked on it before but this is a lovely use of the environment. I love when action setpieces do that. This whole sequence is just such a lovely demonstration of Ezra's skill and competence. <3

And the little shit has the audacity to casually "Hey!" Thrawn, I love him so much.

Ooof with how Ezra ordered Zeb and Ryder to leave with the info and how he told Sabine to get out I think he may have possibly been planning some kind of Jedi self-sacrifice? In which case ow my heart.

This bit here where Thrawn stands unflinchingly in front of the oncoming TIE Defender is a visual reference to a shot from the movie Patton I'm pretty sure. Fitting, as it's German general Erwin Rommel, who clashed with the titular General Patton in the WWII theater, that was one of the inspirations behind Thrawn.

Aaaaaand there's Thrawn sacrificing pilots to prove a point again. Ngl, he's one of the better Imperial commanders to work under but you still get a raw deal if you're too low-ranking, the man will throw you like a meat shield at his enemy to test their mettle and be completely unconcerned when you die.

Ezra: *tells Sabine to hang on*

Sabine: *literally clings to the back of his chair*

Also, do note the sonic boom. The Defender Elite is supersonic.

Oh, this shot where the Defender just threads the gap between two stone pillars? *chef's kiss*

Even Ezra looks a little stunned by how maneuverable the thing is.

Think I noted it before but Sabine sounds really stressed about the kill switch. 'course she experienced it firsthand.

Their banter this episode is amazing I love it.

Hera looks really worried here. Given that her two youngest Spectres were (essentially) kidnapped and taken off into the unknown by Saw just recently maybe it's warranted.

Yeah uh, y'all were never going to make it far enough away from the crash site lugging that thing. Hiding it was a way better plan.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The mist drifting over the ground here.

Sabine not seeing the Loth-cat we can maybe chalk up to her just not seeing it, because unlike the wolf the cat is definitely an animal that normies can see. (Ryder in "Legacy", for example.)

Another semi-random musical score note: Snare drums are used primarily for the Empire, probably owing to their usage in militaries and marching bands. Hear a snare drum in the score? Audio shorthand for the Empire.

"Ezra and Sabine have each other. They'll find their way home." Kanan says, to comfort a worrying Hera, and I awwww.

Ezra continually getting distracted by the Loth-wolf reminds me of how his attention kept drifting with the purrgil.

Sabine's barely able to help him keep focused lol.

Of course Sabine remembers the wolves from the artwork of them, ha ha.

YEAH NO THAT'S NOT A SIGHT I'D BE COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE WITH EITHER.

The Loth-wolves as a concept are pretty basic but also not quite fully explained. We know they're guardians over Lothal and strongly connected to the Force, motivated to protect it from the Empire in general and Palpatine's machinations with the WBW in particular. But the show also kind of just lets them... do things and doesn't explain them.

Like I'm still not entirely clear on why this wolf had to knock Sabine out with a sleep suggestion. Is it that they're not quite ready to reveal themselves to the mortals yet?

Despite doing so literally the next day?

IDK whatever the motivation it did provide me with these lovely bits:

The fearful warble in his voice when he asks, "What did you do to her?!" How he reaches for his lightsaber and doesn't let go of it until the cat appears and the wolf clearly shows it's aligned with it through the little ear wiggles.

How even though the wolf has tentatively gained his trust he's still all *anxious noises* about it handling her. (Watch how many times he looks back and forth from the wolf to Sabine.)

And they way he is so gentle and careful with Sabine, handling her so tenderly this whole ride.

There's something kind of Miyezakian about this cue in the score, it sounds reminiscent of the theme from Princess Mononoke. (Which I'm pretty sure must have imprinted on Filoni as a wee mini young'un to inspire his lifelong wolf obsession.)

*side eyes the writers*

*whispers* If no supposed to ship... *gestures inarticulately*

Kanan believes Ezra about the wolf though, even if he gets all weird and cryptic about it. Frankly I think the "All paths are coming together now." line maaaaay have just been inserted in this scene for trailer purposes lol. It does seem a little out of place.

Another solid entry. The animation is beautiful, the fur on the Loth-wolf is a vast technical improvement from the wookies all the way back in the pilot, with several individual tufts and segments operating independently to move more naturally around the animal's body. The design is basic, just a normal wolf shape with the tooka chicken feet and scaley foreheads, but solid.

Thrawn remains unflappably intimidating. Pryce continues to prove the more hotheaded of the two, which will come back to bite her hard this season.

Aaaaaaaand of course Ezra and Sabine have the most adorable interactions this episode. From the sharply-written banter to their genuine concern for each other, to Ezra's absolutely tender cradling her for the duration of the midnight wolf ride. I was spoiled and I enjoyed it, sue me.

I do maybe wish we could have had a bit more explanation behind the Loth-wolves instead of having them be mysterious for the sake mystery but that's about it.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #grand admiral thrawn #sabezra #rebels rewatch #liveblog

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the-valiant-valkyrie · 7 months

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Answering (by far too many) questions about Phoenix to get a better feel for their character. There's no spoilers for 3 in this, either 💕 So the only thing there is to worry about is how comically long it is

Does your muse make decisions with their head or their heart? Perhaps a bit of both?

Phoenix doesn’t get much room to think with anything beyond their head on the job. And more often than not, they are on the job- or at least, they’re stuck in a similar headspace… That being said, during what little time they spend beyond their occupation, that completely flips. In the rare instances they’re allowed to be lax, they’ll be far more likely to let their emotional state guide their behaviors.

Would you say your muse lives up to their potential? Are they trying to, or could they care less?

They’ve surpassed their initial potential, really. They would never say it out loud, but Phoenix absolutely thinks that it’s only downhill from this point onwards. Sure, they survived a hell of a lot, but that doesn’t mean they know how they did it. They sure as hell would like to keep the reputation they’ve gained, but they don’t feel like they’ve earned it themselves. More like fate just tacked it onto them against their will.

Is your muse protective of those they care for? If so, how do they show it?

It’s been a while since Phoenix has even had someone that they’ve cared for. If you were to have asked them before they joined the Agency, they probably would have responded with a shrug. Nowadays though, the bond they’ve developed with their handler is probably the strongest one they’ve ever had. Taking a bullet for him is the least of what Phoenix would do for that man. Thankfully (for now, anyways), he hasn’t found himself in any sort of situation that would require Phoenix doing that.

Does your muse tend to judge others, or are they more open-minded?

No, Phoenix is absolutely a bit of a judger. Just about anyone who they meet for the first time, they’ve got some internal commentary stirring up in their head the second they lay eyes on them. It happens a lot with Zoraxis operatives especially. Normally it boils down to “ohhh, this guy’s weird”, while actively ignoring the fact that they, too, are very weird. They’re not above being a hypocrite in that regard.

Does your muse have any strange interests? do they keep these interests to themselves, or are they comfortable sharing them with others?

Straying from the somewhat obvious answer of their pyromanic tendencies, Phoenix has a habit of… ‘finding’ stuff out in the field and taking it back with them. It absolutely boggled the Agency the first few times they did it, but nobody stopped them while they had the chance, and they quickly made a habit of it. Sans the handler, they don’t really have great connections with most people in the office, so it isn’t something that comes up a lot. If someone asked them about it, they’d be happy to explain it, but more often than not they’d prefer it if people they didn’t know stayed away from their stuff. After SatL, Phoenix was devastated to learn that all of the souvenirs they collected were removed from the van- probably discarded somewhere by other faculty. Their handler was equally upset about it, though at the time that he learned what the Agency had done, he was still under the impression Phoenix was dead, so.

Has your muse ever been arrested? If so, what for?

Before embracing the life of an agent, Phoenix had gotten themself caught up in a criminal lifestyle far bigger than they were. They were on the hook for a lot of things, really. Trespassing, grand theft, breaking and entering, second degree murder, and, of course, arson, among a few other things. … It was actually the Agency who intercepted their arrest… Read over their files, saw their talent, and didn’t figure them enough of a threat to be against ‘hiring’ them for an agent position. Or maybe they were just looking for some cannon fodder who wouldn’t be missed. Phoenix didn’t really know. But between being an agent or going to jail, it was an easy answer.

Does your muse consider themselves a good person? Why or why not?

… It’s a question Phoenix thinks about a lot. They don’t really have an answer- though if they had to choose, they’d lean towards ‘no’. Their past certainly doesn’t help them think very highly of themself and their morality. They’ve left it behind, but that doesn’t mean they don’t think about it… They wouldn’t even be an agent without all the skills they honed during that time of their life. It’s inseparable from who they are now, whether they like it or not. Phoenix didn’t join the Agency willingly… Not really. Sure, they got used to it- maybe even grown to like it, in a strange sort of way, but they have coworkers who trained and dedicated their lives to their job because they wanted to help people. Because they wanted to save the world- protect the innocent. Phoenix didn’t have a choice. Do they want to help people…? Do they want to protect the innocent? They think they do- they’re pretty sure any rational person would. But they wouldn’t be here if the Agency didn’t snatch them up… Would they even care, if it wasn’t for them? It’s hard to consider being a good person when the good things you do, ultimately, stem from the debt that you owe.

How important is family to your muse?

Not very. They never really knew their mother, didn’t have a great relationship with their father, and keeping contact with him post joining the Agency wasn’t a very high priority for them. Add being an only child to the mix, and that doesn’t really leave much left.

Does your muse tend to blame themselves or others?

It depends, but normally it's much easier for the blame to fall on Phoenix if something goes wrong in the field. Originally, this was because when something went wrong, it usually was their fault- they touched something too quickly, or threw away something they actually needed, or accidentally gripped something too tightly with the telekinesis they were still adjusting to. Though they’ve gotten better at making less mistakes in the field, it's hard to shake the habit of blaming themself whenever things start to go awry.

What decisions have your muse made that they regret?

Regret is… a strange concept for Phoenix. Oddly, one they get particularly thoughtful about. Of course, they regret a lot of the actions in their past, but without it, they wouldn’t be where they are today… They’ve got a place to live they can call their own, an office full of people who… tolerate them, free lunch every day, and a friend they wouldn’t trade for the world. Not to mention all they’ve done since becoming an agent… They certainly don’t regret any of that. Ultimately, Phoenix tries not to dwell on things like regret to begin with. If they don’t think about the past too hard- if they enjoy the present for what it is, and leave everything else behind- then it can’t hurt them as much. Right?

What haunts your muse? Is there any event in your muse’s past that they can’t move past?

A lot… But to narrow it to just one, Rising Phoenix clings to them like a dead weight. Not because of the mission itself… Not because of Juniper, or the missile, or Zor (well, okay, maybe Zor a little bit)... But they can’t shake the memory of their handler crying out to them when the elevator cables finally snapped. With the earpiece tucked directly behind… you know, their ear, it felt as if the sound was echoing around in their skull. They could have died, then. And that wasn’t new, obviously- they nearly died just about every day that week… But having it sink in that even their handler didn’t trust their odds… It was a lot to think about all at once. That they might die. That someone else might care if they die. That his voice shouting their ‘name’ could be the last thing they ever hear him say… The last thing they ever hear period. Revelation after revelation hit in rapid succession, and plummeting to their would-be-death in an elevator certainly hadn’t helped matters much.

Does your muse favor nonviolence? Will they be violent if needed? Do they revel in violence?

Generally, if Phoenix can handle a situation without killing somebody, they will. Physical harm that doesn’t lead to murder is a completely different story, though. They’ll generally do just about anything short of murder to get someone off their back. Phoenix is a pretty big advocate for improvised weaponry, and partnering that up with their telekinesis is quite the dangerous combination. If it’s not bolted to the wall, you’re likely to get hit by it. Hope you have a particularly sturdy skull.

Does your muse prefer to keep the peace or rock the boat? Are they a mediator, or do they tend to make others upset?

Over the years of working for the Agency, they’ve certainly gotten better, but Phoenix has always been a bit of an instigator. It’s a habit they never quite broke. You give them five minutes and they can turn just about anything into an argument. It made them pretty unpopular during their first few months in the office. Nowadays, they’re a lot more playful about it, and they’ve gotten better about learning the limits of those around them (and they’ll only pass those limits if they’re a Zoraxis operative).

Does your muse have any specific fears? Is there a reason why they fear these things?

Phoenix has had a pretty bad case of paranoia even before they joined the Agency. Of course, turning to a life of secrecy pretty much only made that worse. They feel more comfortable meandering through the hallways of an Agency facility than they do walking down the street. They feel safer spending a late night at their office than they do in their own home. There’s a sense of security that comes from being surrounded by their peers that they only really notice once it’s gone… It’s one of the main reasons they’ve stopped asking for vacation days. Not like they’d be very relaxing anyways…

Is your muse happy with their job or career path? Why or why not?

When they started, they couldn’t have cared less about what it ‘meant’ to be a secret agent. They were onboarded to be a dispensable asset, and they knew that full well. Over the years, though, they’ve come around to it… They’re certainly proud of the work they have done (even if they barely know how they even did it), and the sense of community could be a hell of a lot worse. Not needing to fear for their life every time they wake up in the morning would be nice, but you’ve gotta take what you can get, you know.

Does your muse like to travel? have they traveled in the past? Where would they like to go?

Quite obviously, Phoenix travels for work a lot. Before that, though, they never really went too far from their hometown. The concept of traveling for leisure wasn’t really at the forefront of their mind at the time. They can’t deny, though, being an agent has sent them to quite a few gorgeous locations… Though they have no desire to recreationally travel as of currently, they can certainly understand the appeal.

Does your muse believe in an afterlife? If so, what do they believe the afterlife would look like?

They… try not to think about that. If there’s nothing left for them after they die… If everything just cuts to black, and they disappear into the thoughtless ether… Well, there’s plenty of worse things to wake up to, that’s for certain.

Is your muse cowardly, or courageous? what would it take for them to act heroically or selflessly?

It’s a complicated question. If you were to ask Phoenix themself, they certainly wouldn’t consider themself courageous, even despite all they’ve done. Just about every incredibly selfless thing they’ve done- the Death Engine, the stunt in Rising Phoenix, and everything else… Well, they were just about scared shitless the whole goddamned time. Some people would consider it brave to find something heart stoppingly terrifying and still be able to do it anyways. But Phoenix just considers it embarrassing. They don’t really… talk to other agents very much (they aren’t exactly the most popular operative, even despite their accomplishments). With their limited worldview, it’s kind of hard for the imposter syndrome not to creep in. Other agents would have probably done the same things they did, had they gotten the opportunity. And they probably would have done it faster. Probably wouldn’t have hesitated as much.

What are your muse’s most negative traits? How do these traits influence their lives? (ex. if a muse is aggressive, they may have trouble forming lasting friendships.)

Phoenix is an admittedly dangerous combination of standoffish and impulsive. They listen to themself, and act without thinking. Of course, they’ve been working on that a lot more after establishing a better relationship with their handler, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t come back to bite them in the ass from time to time. … It’s so strange that people actually concern themselves about them now. That when Phoenix acts too irrationally, there’s punishments beyond the short term physical, or situational. They get hurt, and their handler gets… scared. They’re not used to that. Even despite their bond, they’ve gotten into a few pretty heated arguments about the matter from time to time. Phoenix still isn’t really used to their actions having consequences for people other than themself. But the world has been relying on them an awful lot, lately… It’s quite the weight on the shoulders.

Has your muse ever felt trapped? by what?

Ultimately- no matter how much they’ve grown used to them, and no matter how much they’ve adjusted to their life as an operative- the Agency is, and will always be Phoenix’s cage. They’re stuck there. They owe a debt, and they can’t really leave if they wanted to. Luckily, they don’t really want to… They’re not really sure what they’d be doing, if not for this… But like most things adjacent to their past, they try not to think too hard about the fact that they’re stuck in this particular career.

#ieytd #i expect you to die #agent phoenix #headcanons #ive been going kinda crazy on the feefee content lately. this is because of my innumerous diseases.#this was pretty fun even if it took an absurdly long time. maybe i'll do this again at some point #i really like my feefee interp.... swings legs and twirls hair. there's something special abt them (their illnesses)#COMPLETELY unrelated but these kids (college aged) have been out here rolling coins down the driveway hill for 30 minutes straight #its 10:40 right now #what are they doing dude......

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