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angel-0f-verdun · 1 month

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8 Magnetic Deviation

Previous Chapter

MATURE CONTENT AHEAD

I sighed before gathering my supplies, I hoped Crystal would let this whole thing go. But I knew that was asking her for too much, she was a woman who liked to discuss every small inconvenience so it only made sense that she would want me to let her in on the situation. It was my fault that we failed that mission. I knew she wouldn’t want to be dragged down with me. I knew there was more to uncover from my experiences in Bosnia. The PTSD affected me every now and then but this time it was coming back with a vengeance. I closed my eyes just sitting in the cockpit listening to the airplanes that were coming and going from the base.

“You want me to wait for you?” Crystal asked inquisitively.

“No, it’s alright,” I told her, hoping she would give me some space for a while.

“I’ll wait, I don’t want Maverick to give you shit if he’s out there.” What she was saying made sense and this is exactly what made her a good friend. She knew when to protect my feelings and when to stop prying. I took my time putting the charts, pens, and other necessities back into my flight bag. But before I did anything else I made sure to cover my eyes with my sunglasses in case I did run into anyone on the tarmac. Chances were that Maverick and Goose were waiting to get yelled at by Jester. Which was a good thing, because I couldn’t deal with Maverick right now, and Goose by default. I did have an urge to see him though, to be comforted by someone other than Crystal.

“Alright let’s go,” I told her, breaking my thoughts off before I could spiral back. I climbed out of the aircraft and planted my feet on the tarmac. Looking around cautiously, I attempted to act normal. I waited for Crystal to catch up, adjusting my posture to appear confident because these men would never let it go if they saw us show even an ounce of vulnerability. It was better to act as if nothing phased us, compartmentalization had become an impressive skill for both of us. While I was trying to stuff my feelings down into my boots, Crystal was radiating a fierce aura. I always enjoyed seeing this side of her, it was a rare moment. I walked towards the locker room with my chin up. I wanted nothing more than to pull my hair out of the bun it was trapped in.

I pushed the door open to the locker room gravitating to my own locker, putting my flight bag inside along with my helmet. Before I shut my locker, I grabbed some extra underclothes I had to change into after my shower. It was always a good idea to carry extra for changing after a flight if you were needed by command for something else. I closed the locker door and put my T-shirt, underwear, and shorts on the bench. I then sat down pulling off my sunglasses and starting to unravel my hair. I pulled the bobby pins out one at a time and unraveled the braid I had put it in, finally pulling the hair tie out. I let my hair fall around my face and ran my fingers through it scratching my scalp as I did it. I sighed, putting my head in my hands, closing my eyes, and taking some deep regulated breaths. I heard the bench squeak as Crystal sat next to me.

“Alright, do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to do this later?” She asked me.

“No,” I replied hoping the short answer would cover both of her questions. I felt the tears threatening to pour out as I busied myself with trying to take off the Ace bandage that was wrapped around my hand and wrist protecting my knuckle. I sucked the air through my teeth as it started peeling the skin off from around the wound. It easily took off the bandaid that Maverick had patched me up with the night prior. I threw it in the trash reminding myself to grab another later as this one had been soaked with blood. The skin underneath the bandage had become saturated and the Ace bandage had marked up the skin from being too tight, the wound needed to air out. I looked at the deep cut, the skin curling up at the ends, purple bruises encircling it. I wasn’t looking forward to the nasty scar it would leave behind.

“Okay, that’s fine.” She said as she got back up, interrupting my thoughts. I sat for a second waiting for her to jump in her shower. As I heard the water start running I got up trudging over to a separate shower on the other side of the room and turned it on waiting for it to get hot. I stripped out of my flight uniform and underclothes. As I waited for the water to warm up I distractedly played with the chain around my neck. It held my dog tags, one of Jax’s, and another precious object that he had given me. I stepped into the shower as it reached the temperature I had wanted it to get to. I felt the scalding water flow over me, I turned around to get my back, finding the generic soap that was kept in the showers. I grabbed some shampoo, poured a glob of it in my hand, and scrubbed it through my hair massaging my scalp as I did so. The soap stung my hand briefly, but eventually, my body got used to it. I reminded myself that this was good, it was acting as an antiseptic for now. The water felt amazing as I washed the soap out of my hair.

My scar started to throb from the intense amount of heat on it, it was one of the many I had received in Bosnia. However, this was the most influential one I had, the one that made me question why I was still here on this earth. It’s why I had tattooed over the monstrosity with angel wings. One of the wings was broken, its wing wilted down my back, it had significantly less feather detail than the other one, it was dying, the quills now visible. The other was full and spanned to the tip of my shoulder, spreading its wing to take off, but it couldn’t leave unless the other was full as well. It was centered at the base of my neck, but it was something I had gotten when I came back from the hell I had survived. It was a macabre reminder of my time there and of Jax. In my mind, it signified that he was now my guardian angel watching over me. But the angel idea wasn’t entirely original, it had come from my first interaction with the unfamiliar country, that statue was still something that had haunted my dreams.

I had started on the conditioner in the time period that I had been thinking. I didn’t want to think anymore, just focus on what I needed to do. Almost right on time was Crystal’s water turning off, I could hear her brush tearing through the tangles in her hair.

“Talk to me,” I told her so she could distract me.

“I don’t think our flight went that badly.” She said to me and continued off into a breakdown of our flight as I washed my body down from the sweat that had accumulated. Once I turned off the water, she stopped. She was primping herself in the mirror trying to get a perfect bun going. I wrapped a towel around my body stepping out of the shower and grabbed the clothes on the way back towards the changing rooms. I dried off more, taking the towel over the spots that had accumulated more water than others. After that, I changed into the clothes that I brought in here with me. Moving the towel I wrapped it around my head, drying my hair. I stepped out of the changing room going back to the mirror to see what I could do with the mess that was my face. I sighed as I stared at the reflection staring back at me, I unwrapped the towel from my hair letting it fall around me as Crystal handed me her brush. I tore through the unruly mess watching my natural curls fall as the brush worked its way through.

“You want some concealer?” Crystal asked me as she noticed me staring at the red puffiness around my eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” I told her, giving her back the brush as she handed me her whole makeup bag. I suddenly had the urge to do a full face of makeup. The last time I did a full makeup look was when Jax proposed. Immediately, his dog tag felt heavier on the chain along with the beloved object, my engagement ring. It was ritualistic for me, something I would never leave the ground without, something I rarely took off. Not many people knew about it as I had hidden them well because people started asking questions I didn’t want to answer. I dabbed the concealer over the redness and rubbed it in to hide the fact that I’d been crying.

“Ready for this?” She asked as I crossed the room to grab my flight suit again. I slipped the green canvas over the clothes I had on, quickly doing a messy updo not caring what Jester could possibly berate me with. Crystal looked at me like I had lost my fucking mind. I just sinisterly smiled back at her. I’d hit my breaking point, and I was so done being cautious. I threw my boots on, blousing the pant cuffs the best I could. Everything else on my uniform seemed to be in order.

I started up the stairs, putting my sunglasses on my head. Crystal didn’t say a thing even though she knew I was pushing the boundaries on regulations. I got to the top of the stairs and saw Maverick and Goose standing outside an office. This must have been the place, people were bustling around what looked like a communal cubicle area to the left of the office door.

“Ladies,” Goose greeted us, throwing me from my thoughts.

“Boys,” Crystal replied to him.

“We heard that you were the next two on Jester’s hit list so thought we’d wait for you,” Mav said. I noticed his eyes locked on my neck, where my ring and dog tags normally fell. I forgot to tuck it into my white undershirt but fuck it. It was against regulation but we were always supposed to wear our dog tags so why couldn’t I make two small additions? Whatever, he would find out what this was about at some point. Crystal rapped on the door before Maverick could get a word in edgewise, I was thankful for that.

“Come in,” Jester said to us, before I knew it, a force pushed me inside. This was the last place I wanted to be. She faced him almost immediately as I took a bit of time to turn. She elbowed me in the ribs, a friendly reminder to get my shit together before I spoke.

“Sir,” I said as I held my hand up to salute him, the wound now freshly reopened. I forgot the Ace bandage downstairs, I made a mental note to retrieve it before I left.

“Reaper, Doe sit down.” He grumbled, watching us take our seats. “Like I said in the plane, I am happily surprised at the amount of skill you two showed.” He said to us, watching our reactions.

“But there needs to be more skill is what you're saying?” I spoke out of turn, much to the Lieutenant Commander's surprise. He blinked, getting himself back on track.

“I think there’s something behind your flight today, for instance, Reaper, your hand looks fucked.” He said to me, not protecting my feelings anymore. I didn’t even flinch, I was accepting of the accusation.

“It is sir, it fucking hurts. But nothing I can’t push through.” I told him. He nodded in acknowledgment. Crystal looked at me displeased at my lack of respect and the complete change in my outlook on life.

“You need to get that stitched up if it has any chance of healing. You can get that done in the infirmary when you’re done here.” He told me. “I assume this may be why your flying was off today. Commander Stinger speaks very highly of you Maeve. I know you’ll live up to his expectations.” He said, still floating around the topic.

“Did you read my file?” I asked him point blank. Getting comfortable in the chair I was sitting in, taking on a more relaxed position.

“I did, I read both of yours, I was curious to know who you were. As you know you are the first females accepted into this program.” He said to me, Crystal watched me confused at what compelled me to act this way.

“And?” I asked him, taking this conversation as a friend talking to a friend. Jester was indulging me.

“You went through a very difficult time in Bosnia Reaper, I can’t imagine what that was like. But you are clearly capable of what this program has in store for you…” I could see the wheels in his head turning as he realized why my flying was off today. “The missile lock..” He trailed off, rubbing his face and clearing his mind.

“It wasn’t something that I was expecting to be thrown by,” I explained.

“It’s understandable Reaper, next time though I expect to be blown away even more, these other pilots and I will not go easy on you. With that being said I feel there’s room for improvement, but you did discern my motivations quicker than anyone else while in the air. You have fantastic instincts and clear decisions when you are flying. I’d like to see more of your personality in your flying. Based on your file you’re brave, you like to take risks and, for lack of a better term, be a maverick. Overall, it was a valiant try. Doe, I have no notes for you, you are a great navigator and you two make quite the team.” He continued wrapping up our briefing.

“Thank you, sir,” We said together, standing and saluting him again before we filed out the door. Maverick and Goose were sitting together in a common area waiting for us to get done so we could all drive back to the house together. Upon our exit, they walked up to us.

“Go well?” Goose asked.

“Yeah, surprisingly, I’m more surprised that Jester didn’t chew Reaper out for her blatant violations and disrespect in there.” Crystal hissed, I could almost feel her eyes burning holes into the side of my head as I didn’t give her the attention that she wanted.

“What?” I heard Maverick and Goose say in unison, shock displayed across their faces. A hollow laugh escaped my lips as I brushed past them making my way towards the infirmary.

“You should go with her, I don’t think I’ll be of much help anymore since I’ve pissed her off.” I heard Crystal sigh out. I heard a scuffle of footsteps follow me.

“How did I know it was going to be you?” I asked as I pushed open the doors to the small infirmary they had on the base.

“Because who better to sour your mood more than me?” Maverick replied, catching onto my defiance immediately. I smirked at him in response.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” A small man wearing glasses asked me at the reception desk. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

“I need a few stitches in my hand. The Lieutenant Commander told me to get it stitched up here.” I told him as he led me over to an examination area, closing the curtains leaving Maverick outside. It took him a second but he poked his head in before the receptionist could start talking to me.

“May I?” He asked. I stifled my laugh and waved him inside. The receptionist gave us a strange look, no doubt wondering what two pilots of the opposite sex were doing together here. The wing patches underneath our names gave us away almost immediately along with the fact our squadron patch was visible on the shoulder of our flight suits. I could tell he wanted to say something but held his tongue and spoke quietly,

“I’ll let the nurse know, we should be able to get you patched up and on your way within the hour,” he told me, I nodded as he started to leave. Once he did I hopped up on the examination table in the middle of the small blocked-off area. Maverick sighed and sat down in the chair across from me.

“What happened?” He asked, breaking the silence. I was surprised he didn’t want to boast about his own flight.

“Nothing.” I breathed out not wanting to talk about it, I could feel a headache coming on.

“Maeve,” He stated my name like a father trying to get the truth out of his child as I sat there swinging my legs back and forth.

“Pete,” I replied with the same tone.

“Come on, I know there’s something that’s causing you to lash out like this. It’s reminiscent of my own actions, not that I’m proud of it.” He started. That stopped me in my tracks. But I reveled in the recognition that he gave it as I chose to ignore the last part of his statement.

“The flight went well actually, everyone is scared to talk to me about what went wrong. So I have to push them to do it.” I told him. “I miss pushing the boundaries. It’s why I became a pilot in the first place. You know, I used to fly like you. I took risks and I think that’s what I need to start feeling like myself again. I’ve been buttoned up for years, I think it’s time to let go of Bosnia–” I blurted out kicking myself as I mentioned the deployment. There was no doubt in my head that everything had clicked for him. His demeanor changed completely.

“So you’re the one? Holy shit.” He replied stating Charlie’s exact words to him earlier that day. He ruffled his hair, his face displaying shock and pity.

“Fuck.” I grumbled the word, annoyed with myself as I looked towards the ceiling tiles.

“No, don’t be upset. I’m glad you mentioned it, I just can’t believe it, Maeve. You were there for a week. The story itself is legendary.” He said breaking me from my thoughts.

“It didn’t feel like it when I was there. It was a hell I never wanted to crawl through. I almost wish–” I stopped myself from speaking. It wasn’t the time or place to bring this up.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to bring it up again.” He said as he sat there in awe, he really shouldn’t have been though. There was a lot to the story that people didn’t understand, they didn’t know the reality. I wouldn’t wish for them to understand either. It’s part of the reason I kept it close to my chest. The details didn’t matter to other people when they heard what had happened, just the heroic effort.

“Can I ask you a personal question? Not related to Bosnia.” He asked as he for once diverted the conversation. I debated the answer to his question. I had been dodging his attempts for a while at trying to get the past out of me. I had a feeling what this was related to.

“Your engagement ring. How was the proposal?” He asked, standing up from his seat across the room, and coming to stand next to me on my left side. An idea popped into my head, I put my hand in his jacket pocket pulling him closer to me and when he got close enough I removed my hand, retrieving what I wanted. I moved the object into my own pocket.

“No,” I answered him, a smile forming on my face.

“Come on, I know what I am forbidden from talking about. Why can’t we talk about this?” I watched him closely.

“Because I said so, I may tell you eventually but that’s only if you’d be planning to propose to me. But I doubt that will ever happen” I replied looking up into his eyes distracting him. I could tell he had more to say but the curtains opened almost on cue, the nurse walked in with the supplies he needed to patch up my hand.

“Hello, Lieutenant, I'll be stitching you up today.” He said, pausing as he looked between Maverick and me.

“Yes, he is the baby daddy,” I told the nurse. As Maverick grinned at me letting a chuckle escape him.

“She’s kidding, no babies,” Mav told him, making sure the nurse knew it was a joke. The nurse set down the supplies on a table and rolled it towards me, a small smile on his face. Then he grabbed the stool he would sit on to do my stitches, before sitting down he moved the light above my hand so he had a good vantage point of his work. He picked up the syringe and filled it with the liquid that was in a brown vial.

“This will numb you up before I get started.” He said to me as he lifted the needle from the bottle and held it up, flicking it a few times to get any bubbles that may have formed out. “Ready?” The nurse asked me as I nodded, putting my hand on the table that he had moved in front of me. I grabbed Maverick’s hand with mine and looked into his eyes. His gaze held surprise that I took his offer to hold his hand. I knew that’s why he had walked over here, in case I had a fear of needles. He should’ve known better though, I had a tattoo to prove that I wasn’t terrified of sharp objects.

The needle went into my hand just below the knuckle as the nurse pushed the liquid into the area. He pulled it out swiftly, placing a cotton ball near it catching any excess liquid. He was silent as he got to work stringing the suture filament to the needle he would be using to sew up the wound. He threw the cotton ball in the trash and got started. I couldn’t feel anything but tugging on my skin.

“So Maeve, tell me…” Maverick started a conversation with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

“You have any fantasies from this book of yours that you’d want to recreate in real life?” He asked me, I could feel the heat rise to my face. The man doing my sutures stopped for a second to make sure he heard him right, he did his best not to make a face but I knew the comment had affected him too.

“Fucking hell Pete, really? Right now? That’s what we’re going to talk about right now??” I hissed at him, dropping his hand.

“Alright fine. What’s your idea of the perfect date?” He continued pushing my buttons embarrassing me further by trying to grab my free hand again as I smacked it away.

“Maverick! For fucks sake.” I breathed out rolling my eyes and looking up at the ceiling trying to block him out.

“Come on humor me. You read all the romance books, I’m curious to see what your idea of an amazing date is.” He lured me into the conversation. I smiled thinking about the first date that Jax and I had and how unconventional it was to my opinion of romance.

“Well, I’ll tell you about my first date with Jax. It was our first leave of absence from the ship and he took me on a tour of Boston, I do love history but this tour was too long, it wasn’t interesting enough. He then took me barhopping where we got very drunk and passed out in a seedy motel where I woke up the next day without him. That is my idea of the worst date ever, but I would’ve married him. Do you know why?” I asked Maverick looking into his eyes.

“Why?” He asked me, looking for the reason, it baffled him.

“Because I was young and he made me laugh. He did things that took me out of my comfort zone. He understood me and he never handled me, he simply helped me through whatever I needed.” I replied to Maverick and paused then started to answer his question. “I would tell you that candles would be a big part of it. I want to walk into a room with candles everywhere, a warm bath drawn and just our company with each other would be enough to keep us occupied.” I smirked, leaning towards him, his eyes flitted to my lips as I smiled at him. He leaned towards me unconsciously.

“Something like that would be the work of fantasy though,” I told him, letting the words fall off my tongue slowly. “I’m a grown woman Maverick I know the difference between real life and fantasy” I looked down at my hand, the nurse was almost done.

“If that’s what you wanted you should’ve voiced it. It’s not the work of fantasy Maeve, it’s the effort of someone who loves you.” He just about whispered out as he snapped back to where we were as the nurse finished up the last stitch tying off the thread. “Alright, you’re patched up. I’ll send the Doctor in to explain aftercare, and, if I may Lieutenant, he’s right, if it were the right person they would do anything in the world to make you happy and do what they could to keep you that way.” The nurse said as he packed up his supplies and left through the curtain. I smiled softly at his retreating figure as Maverick moved in front of me.

“Stop teasing me,” He growled out gripping my chin firmly with his right hand, holding me in position as he leaned forward, capturing my lips in his. For once, I didn’t hold myself back from him, I kissed him back with fervor, his tongue grazed my bottom lip as he politely asked for permission, I denied it, much to his displeasure. In response, he forced his way through letting his tongue explore my mouth. His grip moved to the back of my head, his fingers pulling the hair tie it had been confined in. He pulled it out, casting it aside, tangling his fingers in my hair, looping the strands around, and pulling it gently. I moaned in response, moving myself closer to him wrapping my legs around his waist. I felt him grow hard against my core. Before we could take it any further I heard the rungs on the curtain start to move and pushed him away from me, not sure who was on the other side, I knew we wouldn’t want them to catch us in this position.

“Lieutenant, I recommend that you keep that iced and wrapped until we can take the stitches out, I will warn you though, it’ll most likely scar since you didn’t come in immediately when it happened.” The Doctor told me not looking up from his paperwork.

“Yes sir, will do sir. Am I good to go?” I asked him. He nodded, looking up at us for the first time, giving us a confused look at our disheveled appearance. He then shrugged and spun around leaving the area. I looked to Maverick who was standing in the corner of the room, facing the wall, bracing himself against it. He turned around and I could see the lust in his eyes, as if he would jump me at any moment. I deviously smiled at him hopping off the table and beckoning him toward me with a simple hand gesture. He followed on my heels as I started walking towards the exit. We walked to the hangar where his bike had been parked, I could tell he wanted to get out of here fast as he searched his pockets frantically.

“Missing something?” I asked him as I pulled the keys out of my pocket dangling them in front of him.

“Maeve…” He started again as he reached to grab them from me. I quickly moved them away from his grasp and behind my back.

“Pete,” I smirked as I threw my leg over the Kawasaki Ninja, putting the keys inside the ignition and turning it, quickly feeling the rumble go through the engine.

“You know how to ride?” He asked me, surprise running through his voice.

“Of course I do,” I told him the adrenaline flowing through my veins as I revved it. It’d been a while since I’d ridden but at this moment I had no fear that was holding me back. I pushed us off the ground and slowly approached the gate so the guards could open it before I took us out on the open road. As I merged onto the highway, I forced myself to focus on the road starting to weave between the cars as he held onto my waist keeping me in a position close to him. I could feel his hot breath against my neck as we reached the off-ramp, coming to a light turning red. His lips connected to my neck as I brought the bike to a stop. He started sucking and pulling the skin beneath it, I groaned, not wanting him to stop. The car next to us looked familiar. The girl in the passenger seat looked at me and her jaw dropped. It was Crystal and Goose. They both looked at us dumbfounded that we could be so careless out in the open world where any eyes could see us. The light changed and I kicked Maverick’s shin as I brought my leg up off the ground, letting him know that I wouldn’t be able to drive if he didn’t quit. He stopped, gripping my hips tighter as I turned onto our street pulling into the driveway.

“You surprise me every day,” He breathed out into my ear, moving the hair that had loosened in the wind back behind my shoulder, gaining clear access to my neck again. I moved before he could do anymore, pulling myself from him and the machine beneath me, taking the keys out of the ignition. I threw them to him as I walked up to the front door gaining some space from the man who was slowly stealing my heart.

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bitronic · 8 months

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someone. anyone. drop a link to iwtv amc tv series in my dms

#mumbles #i need it i keep seeing gifs/pics of lestat and while in the series hes no tom cruise #which i think of as the CANON lestat in my head #i picture lestat i picture tom cruise lestat they did him up so good for that movie #he still looks so breathtaking #and sososososo mentally ill #its kind of a prerequisite if you want to be a vampire you have to be mentally ill #or it comes with the territory. you become a vampire and thusly you become mentally ill #iwtv

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hollybell51 · 9 months

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If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.

“That was fucking insane!” you burst.

“Are you ok?”

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”

“A bullet graze!”

“It’s fine.”

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, though less tense.

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”

“No, (Y/N)–”

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”

No one’s coming.

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.

“(Y/N).”

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.

“For yelling at me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”

“All that matters. You said.”

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”

The frown deepened. “Hm?”

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.

“Huh?”

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.

“Yeah.”

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”

Again, “Yeah.”

You smiled. “What about me?”

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.

“What else?” you asked.

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.

“Can–”

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.

“Hm?”

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”

“Insane?”

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”

“Hm?”

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”

“(Y/N)–”

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”

“In me.”

“You sure?”

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”

He nodded.

“I still want to check them.”

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”

“Guess I’m just that special.”

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

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ladymercury8 · 2 years

Text

1986: A Love Odyssey | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You work at the local cinema in Hawkins, and Steve is starstruck when he first sees you. [1.8k]

Warnings: 16+ for light steaminess, cursing, no spoilers, fluff.

❃❃❃❃❃

The first time Steve Harrington saw you, he had come to watch Top Gun with Robin.

He entered the cinema as per usual, striding across the red velvet carpet towards the snack stand with Robin in tow. They were bickering about who was more attractive, Meg Ryan or Rebecca De Mornay, and how unfair it was that Tom Cruise got to kiss both of them.

But as soon as Steve looked up to place his order, his hand already reaching for the wallet in his back pocket mechanically, he was dumbfounded. He blanked at the conversation he was having, jaw slightly gaping open, staring at your face across the counter. Your rosy cheeks. Your soft hair, despite the tangles. Your necklace, resting against your collarbones. Your endless eyes.

He was so in awe that he didn’t register the confused furrow of your brows, the small smile on your lips, the light giggle as you repeated, “Hello? Are you OK? Can I get you anything?”

It took Robin’s sharp elbow hitting him in the ribcage for him to fall back down to Earth. He grabbed his side, muttering, “what was that for?”

Robin simply nudged her head towards you, then behind her at the developing queue.

Yet, once again, Steve was like a fish out of water when he looked at you.

“He’s trying to think of a pick-up line, so while he’s contemplating, which, I can assure you, is certainly a strain for him, could I get a bucket of popcorn and a Coke?” Robin said.

While Steve grumbled a “shut up,” under his breath, you just smiled at Robin, nodding, your face bright. You then looked expectantly at Steve, slightly shy.

“Ditto.”

You pushed your hair behind your ear, reading out the price, rushing to grab their orders as Steve placed the money on the counter.

“Enjoy the movie,” you beamed, and Steve would have swore his heart stopped. As you reached to give them back their change, Steve grabbed your wrist across the counter.

“No need. Keep it, doll face.”

As the pair headed towards their screening, Robin stared at Steve, bemused. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he feigned.

“Mr. Steve Harrington, flirter supreme, wooer of all women, was just left speechless,” Robin guffawed.

“She’s different,” was all he replied, suddenly slapping himself on the forehead, “shit, I forgot to ask her name.”

“Y/N,” Robin smirked. When Steve turned, confused, she added, “it said so on her name tag. You're not the only one who thinks she's cute.”

❃❃❃❃❃

The second time Steve saw you, he was with Dustin, Lucas and Mike. They were watching Stand by Me, rated R for some reason, which thus required a guardian. Dustin had effortlessly persuaded Steve to join them.

Steve had gone to the movie house several times since your first encounter, hoping to spot you again. But you were never seen, either because you were working 'behind the scenes,' or because it was your day off.

This time, he was ready. The three boys stood behind him as he approached you, hand combing his hair back, signature smile plastered on his lips. His confidence was only boosted when he saw the knowing look in your eyes: recognition. You had remembered him.

“Hi there,” you said, “how can I help you?”

“Look, about last time, I-”, Steve was stuttering, he had to look down, “I came prepared, today, I-I made this whole speech weeks ago, even practiced in front of my goddamn mirror, I just, whenever I look at you I-”

Glancing up, he saw your eyes searching his.

“'Is that canon fire, or is it my heart pounding?'” You whispered. Steve looked incredulous. “Ingrid Bergman. Casablanca. Here,” you ripped a piece of paper from a discarded receipt beside you, scribbling your house phone number. “Give me a call sometime.”

“Can you pinch me? You’re just so damn cute, I swear I’m dreaming,” he leaned his elbow against the counter, your eyes locking together as you giggled.

“What’s your name, dream-boy?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Y/N, right?” he gestured towards you name tag. You nodded. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

The two of you could have stayed like that for eternity, had it not been for the boys nagging, “Steve, hurry up, the movie’s gonna start!”

As you took their orders, grabbing their snacks, you wished them a pleasant film, smiling at Steve.

Walking away, Steve was starstruck. The boys were teasing him, but he was simply starstruck.

❃❃❃❃❃

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth times Steve saw you, he didn’t care what film he was going to see.

For weeks, the pair of you had been talking on the phone into the early hours of the morning. Steve felt like he could listen to your rambling forever. You mostly prattled on about films, and even though Steve often had no clue what you were talking about, he just nodded along, “yeah, definitely, I totally agree.”

He cherished every word you spoke, the way you pronounced each letter, your cadences and rhythms.

He particularly adored making you laugh. “I look a little like Tom Cruise, don’t I? It’s the hair. Listen, listen. ‘Just take those old records off the shelf. I sit and listen to them by myself.’”

The bubbling joy slipping out of your lips, a smile audible in your voice. Sheer happiness.

And you were new to Hawkins. You had no prejudices or preconceived notions. You listened to Steve attentively, about his absent parents, about his failures in romance. You formed your own image of this amazing young man, uninfluenced by any rumours about what he was like in high school. “Steve, who even cares what you were like then, when this is who you are now!”

Every time Steve came to the cinema, you both exchanged a few flirtatious remarks across the counter. He watched your every movement, your every gesture. The nervous tapping of your foot. The timid way you pushed your hair back. The way you hid your hands behind your face when you grew embarrassed.

He didn’t care about what he was watching. After entering the auditorium, the only thing he looked forward to was strolling out of it, towards the exit, and waving you a small goodbye. For at those moments, no matter what rude customer you were serving, you smiled at him, practically bouncing with joy.

❃❃❃❃❃

The seventh time Steve saw you, it was upon your invitation.

During his previous visit, halfway through the trailers, while munching on his popcorn Steve nearly choked on a piece of paper. Removing it with his fingers and straining to see what it was, he saw a note: “Meet me here. Tonight. 10PM. Don’t be late.”

He knew it was you, recognised your handwriting even. He was so anxious, willing the time to pass quicker.

At 10PM, he arrived. There was a late-night horror film screening that had just started. Entering through the glass doors, hair meticulously arranged and prepared (it had taken hours, but god bless Farah Fawcett), he saw you on the other end of the hall.

“Hey, beautiful,” he waved, walking towards you slowly.

But you weren’t in the mood for slow. You ran up to him, enveloping him in a warm hug as he swayed you back and forth.

“You smell good,” you laughed, pulling away.

“You look good. Great, actually, you’re gonna slay us all dead,” he remarked, as a crimson blush adorned your cheeks.

“Shut up and follow me,” you turned, about to walk off, but then extended your palm backwards, “and could you hold this for me?”

He chuckled, intertwining your fingers with his as you gently pulled him along.

“Where are we going? A hidden cave?” Steve questioned, examining his surroundings, the endless, dark hallways of the cinema.

“It’s a secret,” you whispered, “and be quiet, nobody’s supposed to know you’re here.”

“Don’t worry. I’m stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve joked quietly.

You promptly opened a barely noticeable door, moving out of the way so Steve could see. “Ta da! Fuck, no, wait, now!”

Whatever Steve was expecting, this wasn’t it. It was a screening room - the size of a broom closet. You were providing the single light source through the flashlight in your hand. The room could only fit a film projector on a flimsy table, a chair alongside the projector, and a cabinet. Strewn all around the room were rolls of film, and movie posters: Singin’ in the Rain, On the Waterfront, Halloween, Double Indemnity, Citizen Kane, Psycho… there was not a single empty space on the wall.

“We screen our films here,” you explained, “tonight is Poltergeist. I already set it up, it’s running, but I thought you might want to see.”

You had wrung your hands together, your gaze falling to the ground, and Steve noticed a minor timidness.

“Can I go in?” his eyes were scanning the room. You handed him the flashlight.

“Of course, of course, sit down. Sorry, it’s not luxurious… or big. But this is the projector. You can see the film through the little hole in the wall, or the eyehole on the camera.”

Steve glanced at the darkened auditorium, the audience underneath him, the film playing on the screen. He heard the collective screams and gasps at each scare.

As Steve sat down, you shut the door behind you, awkwardly standing next to him.

That is, before he turned off the flashlight. Before he gently placed his hands on your hips. You held his shoulder for balance as he pushed down, signaling for you to sit on his lap, straddling him, facing each other.

“Have you seen Poltergeist?” you asked, feeling blindly for his face. You traced and followed his features with your fingers: his defined jaw, rubbing the light stubble; his hairline, as you scratched the nape of his neck; the outline of his lips, slightly open.

Steve never replied. As you caressed his face, he wrapped his arms around your waist. Instinctively, you both leaned in, searching for each other’s lips. His found yours first, placing a kiss on the side corner of your mouth, then melting into your lips.

Your chest was flush with his, your eyes closed, your eyelashes tickling his face. You cupped his jaw, pulling him even closer.

Lips already swollen, gasping, you reluctantly pulled away from him. Steve held you, his lips traveling ravishingly down your neck, to your collarbone, nibbling lightly, leaving a mark.

“You know what Clark Gable said?” You gasped out, chest heaving as Steve’s hands played with the hemline of your shirt.

Steve merely groaned against your skin, his teeth refusing to leave the silkiness.

“He told Vivien Leigh,” you could barely speak steadily, “’You need kissing badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how.’”

“Smart man,” Steve quickly pulled away to pull his own shirt off his head, the heat of the room due to its confinement, the operating projector and both of your arousal, leaving him sweaty. “Smarter than that Sherlock Homes dude.”

You rubbed your palms up the hairs on his warm chest, resting a hand against his heart, the other reaching his face. “That’s you, Steve Harrington. And I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you. I’m the Clark to your Vivien.”

“I’m not complaining.”

❃❃❃❃❃

Thank you for reading! x

#lady writes #fallingintofiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #1980s #joe keery #joe keery imagine

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

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How the Blue Angels convinced Tom Cruise to make the movie "Top Gun"

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 05/02/2024 - 00:03in Demonstration Squads, History, Military

It's hard to imagine a world without the Top Gun movie. Aviation lovers watch at least once a year, despite the banality of the 80s, because the flight scenes are as cool now as they were more than 30 years ago. The best talents were hired to ensure a successful production, but the star of the film needed to be convinced by the Blue Angels to finally decide to become Maverick.

In another fantastic interview with Ryan Notthaft on Blue Angel Phantoms on YouTube, the Blue Angel pilot who piloted Tom Cruise, Curt "Griz" Watson, talks about his experience.

youtube

When reading the script alone, Cruise didn't find it funny. He was a serious actor who was still standing out, and there was a lot of apprehension about how the audience would receive an aviation film. Because the truth is that no aviation movie was really a big box office success before Top Gun.

But the producers knew they had a winner. They considered Top Gun as "Star Wars on Earth", inspired by a story years earlier in California Magazine. But Cruise initially did not share his vision, nor did many producers before Paramount. They had no real characters or stories, just cool jets.

"When I first read it, I thought they had a very limited story and script," Cruise recalled in an old behind-the-scenes article about the production of the film, which you can watch at this link. "I thought so, I don't know about it."

In a final desperate attempt to convince Cruise to join, producer Jerry Bruckheimer called Navy Admiral Peter Garrow, asking Cruise of the Navy to convince him to make the film. Garrow, of course, called the Blues Angels with the orders.

Grizz exceeded Cruise's expectations very well on the team's No. 7 jet, an A-4 Skyhawk. With a bag full of vomit, Cruise was hooked and his love affair with aviation began. When he landed he walked to the nearest public phone, called Bruckheimer and said "I do this".

But he was not satisfied only with the flight on the A-4 of the Blue Angels. After all, Mav is an F-14 Tomcat pilot. So Cruise requested flight time on the F-14 as part of his character's development. What made perfect sense. Cruise even put this in his contract. The producers and the Navy happily accommodated him.

youtube

His first F-14 flight also hit him in the head. Your pilot, indicative of call Bozo, put him in a difficult situation. You can watch the interview above about some of these flights, or better yet, watch the video here where Cruise and Bozo talk about it.

He loved piloting the F-14 so much that he even told his pilots "let's film these scenes and then tear everything apart. I'll evaluate you about who is the best driver." Each pilot wanted to know how his other pilots fared and then competed to see who could kick Tom's ass harder.

Cruise has been in love with flying since then. He is now a talented pilot, certified for various types of aircraft. He also owns a World War II P-51 Mustang fighter.

Source: AvGeekery

Tags: Blue AngelsDouglas A-4 SkyhawkHISTORYTop GunUSN - United States Navy/U.S. Navy

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

Text

Infinity

14 | Misery

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Things finally come to a head and you get the answers you've been waiting for

words: 3910

cw: canon typical violence

an: two more chapters left!

an2.0: I was watching The Mummy (1999) while writing this chapter, so there is def some inspo taken from that. If anyone tries to say the one with Tom Cruise is better, or even good, we can't be friends

When you come too, there’s no telling how long it’s been, your vision is blurry but you can make out the flickering of light bouncing off jagged stone walls. It’s cold where you’re at, and the surface you’re laying on his slick but solid, akin to a slab of rock.

Moving your arms, you can feel the ropes dig into your wrists, the metal of the hooks the rope is tied to clinking together. There’s also several hands roaming over your body, making you toss and turn, flinching away from their touch.

The last time you were kidnapped it was by Satoru, but something tells you this is going to be a lot less fun than that turned out to be.

When your eyes adjust, you can make out candles littered across the large open space you’re in. It looks like a cave, more man made than natural, but definitely underground judging by the foundation of the room you’re in.

It’s quiet, only the sound of people murmuring as they move about echoing off the walls, the flickering of light belongs to candles littered about the space, the sound of the wicks burning barely evident.

Your feet are also bound, you notice, when you try to kick away the woman rubbing some sort of oil on your ankles. Lavender and jasmine are being burned in tiny jars at your feet, with what looks like offerings of some sort, lining the space as well - they’re all golden trinkets.

“Hold still, girl,” a woman scolds as she works to weave something into the strands of your hair.

You move your head from side to side, kicking and waving your arms as much as possible, but not able to get much traction due to being bound.

The woman Satoru had gone out with walks up to you, holding your shoulders still as another comes over and holds your feet down, halting your movements.

She’s in a thick black cloak, with the hood down as the other people walking around the room are in thinner ones, with their hoods up shielding their faces. Judging by the voices, you’d venture to guess it’s a mixture of both men and women.

“You know, being tied up is only fun when it’s with Satoru,” you say, voice strained and sore from whatever was used to knock you out.

The woman rolls her eyes before stepping away, Aoyama Kenji taking her place. He’s in a similar cloak, slightly more intricate with the designs that run through the black cloth. You can only imagine he’s the ring leader of whatever is going on around here, but the woman is likely in a higher position as well, due to her thicker cloak than the others.

You watch as another person comes over and caresses your skin, concentrating on letting your energy flow through you and into them, but the small whirling of energy you typically feel flowing through you is nonexistent, and despite trying to will them to stop touching you is having no effect.

“What the fuck is going on?” Your heart is pounding now, realizing the gravity of the situation. You’re tied down, helpless without the use of your abilities.

“Shush girl, let the man talk,” the woman above you tugs on the strands of your hair a few times, holding your head in place as she continues to tie something into your locks.

“Her ability prevents others from using their own. A handy little trick, in situations like this.”

They’re all murmuring something you can’t quite make out, but if you had to guess, from whatever their saying, the cloaks they wear, the gold trinkets, the woman doing something with your hair, the lavender and jasmine burning at your feet, it all feels very ritualistic.

“We’ve been watching you for some time,” Aoyama states, “with a man on the inside informing us of your whereabouts and abilities.”

You're staring at him, eyes roaming his face. He’s told you his name but you still can’t place why he looks different than the night you met him.

“Great, care to enlighten me as to who?”

“Geto.” The man states simply, and it really comes as no surprise.

Suguru would be the number one suspect on your list with the way he’s treated you from the day you met. You sigh, wondering if it would have been worth the effort to try and explain Suguru’s attitude towards you to Satoru, or if it would have made any sort of difference in the long run.

“Were you the reason why Satoru and I were brought out to investigate the club?”

He smiles, it’s large, creepy and looks like it belongs to the devil, “primarily a distraction, to lure you to us. The club has plenty of land we could use to set up a base here without rousing too much suspicion.”

“That’s a really stupid plan, you know? What if Satoru wasn’t assigned this mission and what if he didn’t bring me-”

“Not a worry. Geto was able to arrange it so Gojo was assigned this mission and then all he had to do was put a bug in Gojo’s ear about how enticing it would be to bring you along with him.”

Another man comes and joins, Aoyama next to you, this one you do recognize as you had just met him a few weeks ago while dress shopping: Saito Akira.

In his hand he holds an intricate dagger, blood red rubies lining the hilt.

“What are you going to do, sing Jenny as you stab me with that? If you’re looking for a virgin for your little ritual, you’re sorely mistaken for what I am.”

Saito grins, it’s beautiful, but his eyes are mischievous, a terrifying glint present in his dark orbs, “do you know what you are?”

“Does it matter? And why do these people keep touching me?”

Nearly everyone in the room chuckles at your question, as if it should be obvious, as if you shouldn’t have been wondering what you are and why you’re different from everyone else your entire life.

“You’re a vessel for our goddess, Lilith. This is a great honor for not only us, having the chance to resurrect her, but for you as well, to be the body she takes over.”

You furrow your brows, stumbling over your next words, “I-how am I a vessel of all things?”

“Because of your abilities. It’s rare for someone with the gifts you were born with to lack cursed energy, and the fact that you do is proof you are the reincarnation. It only happens once every… oh, I don’t know, a thousand years or so.”

Watching their faces for any form of teasing or a hint of lies you find nothing, they’re dead serious and they plan on using the dagger they just brought over as the tool to sacrifice you with.

The woman above you finally stands, stating she’s finished fitting the crown on your head before grabbing a jar from the floor and pouring some of the remnants from inside on her hand and blowing it towards the entrance of the cave.

“A manipulation technique,” she answers your question before you’ve asked, as curses are seemingly brought to life from nothing but the particles she just blew around the room. You can’t hear what she says next, but it’s clear she’s able to control the curses in some manner, with the way they’re headed out to the corridor.

And really, you can’t help but hate Jujutsu at this point, and maybe you should have taken Satoru up on his offer to quit and lounge around his place all day, waiting for him to come home. It would certainly beat getting kidnapped, thrown through walls and nearly dying, or actually dying, as it appears the case may be today.

You’re feathering your jaw, watching the two men prepare the dagger, and of course, at the last moment, you realize what is different about Aoyama.

“You wore contacts the night we met. Your eyes were a beautiful hazel color, now they look like a shitty, dull blue.”

“I put them in as a countermeasure, just in case your lover were to show up, which as you know, he did.”

“So your big disguise incase Satoru showed up was contacts? That’s hilarious.” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, just all of it, being so ridiculous. These people follow you around, trying to get close to you. Thinking contacts would stop Satoru from being able to find out who they were and what they were really doing, had he cared to research.

Tears form in the corner of your eye due to laughing so hard, your stomach is even beginning to cramp a little. And then you feel his presence before you hear a blast so loud it’s shaking the entirety of the cave and footsteps approaching quickly.

“Satoru’s here. He’s going to kill you all.” You have a smile on your face as you say the words, you only wish you would have had the chance to kill one or two of them. A few lives you would have gladly rid the world of.

“We never planned on making it out alive.” Saito states, raising the blade over his head with both hands, “as long as the ritual is completed before he makes it in, then that’s good enough for us.”

You’ve been missing for several hours and Satoru feels like he’s going insane searching for you. He’s made his way around the grounds of the club he saw you walk away in, called your phone over and over again with it going straight to voicemail. He even warped to the skyline, removing his glasses to really get a good look around.

Nothing. You’re just gone. No traces of you, no traces of residual energy anywhere.

There’s a sour feeling growing in the bit of his stomach and his hands tremble as they reach into his pocket when his phone rings, he briefly wonders if this is what fear feels like.

He hopes, when he takes his phone out of his pocket, that it’s you, with some silly little story about what happened and why your phone is off, but he has a gut wrenching feeling it won't be.

And he’s proven right when he sees Principle Yaga’s name flash across the screen.

“Yeah.” He answers, short and simple, annoyed that the person he wants to get in touch with isn’t the one currently on the other end of the phone.

“Suguru’s defected. Massacred a village this morning.”

“What?”

Yaga sighs on the other end of the phone muttering “why are you making me say it again,” before repeating what he had just told Satoru, to his disbelief. Not only are you gone, but now he’s being told Suguru has killed over 100 humans. Something he would never do.

Satoru holds his phone in his hand, cracking the screen as he thinks about what he should do. He wants to stay and search for you but if efforts have been fruitless, and he doesn’t want to believe what he was just told about Suguru, there's a restless pit in his stomach telling him he should go see his friend. Perhaps for the last time.

Satoru doesn’t have to go far when he warps away, finding Suguru on the streets of Tokyo near the club, waiting for him to arrive.

“What the hell happened to you?” Satoru asks, voice strained, the streets filled with pedestrians coming and going to the shopping centers and food courts nearby.

“I just came to realize over the years I hate all monkeys, and she’s even worse than that. Not a human, not a sorcerer. She has no place in the world, especially with us superior beings.” Suguru easily explains, “I didn’t realize how much disdain I held onto after the Star Plasma mission, until after I met her. I suppose I should thank her for helping me realize I can no longer hide who I am.”

Suguru says your name slowly, “she’s being held in a cave 24 kilometers northeast of the tennis courts on the property of the golf club you were sent to investigate.”

“Was that your doing we as well?”

“I just provided them with the idea, had nothing to do with the execution. But I no longer care, my plans have changed. If you leave now, you might even make it in time to save her.”

Suguru turns his back to his friend, raven hair blowing in the wind, hands in his pocket. Satoru scoff, holding out his hand, debating on sending a wave of cursed energy through his head, but after taking a deep breath, he lowers his hand slowly.

There’s no way he would be able to kill Suguru. The only way he may be able to bring himself to do it is if he decides to destroy everyone and everything.

Satoru makes quick work of finding the cave Suguru mentioned, making his way inside, running along the manmade corridors. There are charms hanging on the walls, some of them wet from water dripping from above.

He scoffs at the sight - clearly Suguru had given them inside information on his abilities and ways to prevent him from being able to warp, but that’s the most they can do; try to delay the inevitable.

There’s curses coming down the man made passage, likely another attempt to delay him from reaching where you’re being kept. Though, they clearly underestimated him, even with their inside knowledge of his abilities.

Holding his hand in front of him as his long legs carry him further and further in the depths of the cave, the red light from his technique shines along the walls, everything glowing a blood red color as he releases a wave of reversal red.

The curses in front of Satoru explode, loud enough he’s sure you and every cultist in this damn cave will have heard it, not that it matters, they’re all going to die anyway.

Once he reaches the depths, Satoru finds himself in a large open area, cultists surrounding the innermost circle where he can see your frame with a man hunched over your body.

Even without being able to warp at the moment, Satoru is fast. Fast enough to make his way to the man next to you with ease, grabbing his head and twisting, effortlessly snapping his neck.

As soon as the man falls to the ground, Satoru’s heart stops seeing a knife plunged into your chest, blood pooling around the blade and your skin draining of all color.

As much as he wants to stop and focus on you, he has to turn his attention on the other cultists. Some of them are standing in place, knowing this is where they’re going to meet their end, not trying to fight it. Others are in shock at the sight of the white haired man and the lengths he would go through to save you while the last few are running away in fear, trying to save their own skin.

It’s not going to work.

Satoru takes out his anger in… unique ways on the cultists. Starting with the ones standing, just so those who are running think they have an actual shot at getting away from him.

He doesn’t care if they’re curse user or human, the way he’s kicking their heads back, snapping necks in the process, slamming them so hard into the side of the caves their bones are broken, alive or dead, he doesn’t care. They’re unable to move and nobody will bother to come save them.

Their screams and pleas for their lives fall on deaf ears as he works his way through each person, one by one, letting them fight back as much as they could, without his infinity on to make them think they had a chance of harming him.

When it’s finally said and done, he’s covered in cultist blood, wiping what managed to get on his face off as he makes his way over to you.

“Baby.” Satoru’s voice is quiet, looking you over. You’re too quiet, too still. His hands are on your shoulders, gently shaking you from side to side, “baby, wake up. It’s over now.”

You still don’t move, his eyes search your face, looks at the knife plunged in the center of your chest, blood splattered around where the knife entered, still slowly seeping out, soiling your clothes.

“You can’t leave me too.” It’s a whisper, he’s swallowing thickly, grabbing your small cold hands to clamp them between his larger warmer ones, “you can’t leave me too, baby, wake up.”

Nothing. And he’s about to lose his goddamn mind.

“Wake up.” He commands in a much firmer tone, angry. “Do what you did with Nanami. Right now. Figure it out.”

You don’t stir. And for a man who’s never really stressed, he’s fucking panicking, heart beating too fast and hard in his chest it feels like it’s going to explode into a million tiny little pieces that will never be able to be put back together again.

Because what the fuck is he supposed to do if you’re gone too? His best friend and the woman he loves, both gone on the same day. Both gone but in different ways.

There’s a knot forming in Satoru’s stomach, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt nauseous a day in his life but fuck if he doesn’t feel that way, right now in this moment. How is he supposed to go on if he loses the two people he loves the most on the same day?

He chuckles, it’s strained, sounds insane, thinking if you don’t wake up, if you don’t come back to him, he’s going to burn the world to the ground, starting with the higher-ups. Because you deserve the world, deserve everything, and he wanted to give it to you.

There are footsteps echoing into the room, Satoru doesn’t turn to have to know who it is, he knew he was followed, that the person hung back to watch what would happen.

“The knife is laced with a poison to cause mild paralysis. It’s not a very strong one, the intention just for it to be inserted into the bloodstream long enough for the ritual to be completed. If you remove it now, she’ll be able to feed and survive.”

“Why are you helping me now, Suguru. After all of this?” Satoru’s voice is angry, pissed at his best friend for turning his back on him and everything they hoped to achieve together.

“She won’t exist in the world I plan to create, so it doesn’t matter if she lives or dies right now anyway.”

Clenching his jaw, Satoru takes a deep breath as Suguru walks away. He quickly debates the pros and cons of leaving the knife in and taking you to see Shoko, or pulling it out now. But he knows Suguru, still trusts him enough in his words to believe what he just said.

And If he has to live his life without Suguru in it, then he sure as hell isn’t going to live it without you too.

Grabbing the hilt of the dagger, Satoru pulls the blade from your chest. He’s seen a lot of fucked up things in his life, due to curses. Dismemberments, friends dying. But he closes his eyes at the sight of the blade leaving a loved one's body, not able to stand it with the squelching sound your blood makes as the blade is removed.

He waits, for what feels like an eternity for you to stir. First with a cough, then struggling to gasp for air, trying to catch your breath. When you open your eyes, you’re met with Satoru’s worried gaze, his eyes flickering across your face making sure you’re really you.

Your eyes are the same, albeit furrowed with panic and fear evident. He doesn’t let you speak, doesn’t let you try to move.

Instead, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, letting you siphon as much energy as you need.

The wind is blowing a cool breeze as you sit outside the cave you were brought to, still somewhere on the acreage of the Golf Club you were investigating, tucked away in a valley of trees. You were able to fully heal from Satoru, the wound not being quite as bad as he had anticipated, it was definitely not comparable to the injuries you received during your mission with Nanami.

It’s quiet out in the woods, sitting next to Satoru with your knees pulled to your chest as his long legs are sprawled out in front of him, sitting back on his hands next to you. The birds are chirping, leaves rustling as the wind passes by, your clothes are tattered where the knife made its way through the fabric and his clothes are covered in drying blood.

Looking over to him, his glasses are off and he has his eyes closed, face turned up towards the sky letting the small amount of sunlight that’s filtering through the trees hit his face. There’s a glow to his skin, he’s always looked ethereal, even more so with the small halo glowing around his skin.

“When we met any of them, did you know they were curse users? Is that why you were so weird with Aoyama and Saito?”

Satoru shakes his head, “nope. Didn’t like the way they were looking at you. Knew the one was wearing contacts though.”

You let the silence come between you again. It’s easy with him, it has always been between the two of you. Satoru loves to talk and fill the space at work or spending time with friends, but when you’re alone, he’s content just being in your vicinity.

“Did you ever suspect Suguru?” You ask quietly, watching his reaction, moving your hands to your hair to finally rid yourself of the stupid crown the woman laced in.

He takes a deep breath,opening one eye to look over at you before answering, “no. Seems like he covered his tracks perfectly, or I wasn’t paying close enough attention to notice any mistakes he may have made.”

There’s a hurt in his eyes he’s allowing you to see, showing his vulnerability right now just because it’s you. Satoru will act stoic around others, but there’s no denying the hurt he’s feeling from being betrayed by his best friend. It will take him some time to overcome it, even if he pretends to be okay in front of everyone else.

You’ll be by his side every step of the way, though your heart is heavy for Satoru.

“I’m sorry. If I had never moved here-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts with a firm voice, “Suguru was going down that path no matter what. If you hadn’t come, maybe it would have been delayed some, but it was inevitable from the moment we failed the Star Plasma mission.”

You stay quiet, nodding and pursing your lips before laying back on the grass next to him, exhausted from the events of the day.

Reaching out, you let your hand find his, the metal from wedding bands you’re still wearing clinking together as you entwine your fingers with one another.

taglist: @q-the-rockaholic @greenlovers @naorizenin @a1hina @plants-w0rld @patat-boi @rlvslouis @littledemoness15@thisbicc @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @hecatesflames @arisucat @creolequeen11210 @imperatorkhaleesi @xiaosie @the-loneliest-girl @violetsapplejuice

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nalyra-dreaming · 1 year

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So I’m brand new to this fandom. I just finished the show 3 days ago. Finished reading IWTV 2 days ago. Started TVL today. So my knowledge of the dynamics is very thin. I absolutely loved the show. I love that all the characters are pretty horrible yet you still can emphasize with them. I fell head over heels for Lestat, in large part due to Sam Reid’s incredibly layered and nuanced performance. My question is this - in the book I never got the impression Louis cared for Lestat until maybe Paris when he was having some regrets. In the show, while I believed he was attracted to Lestat, I also thought the love was very one sided. Is this possibly due to the fact Louis is an unreliable narrator and has been telling his story in front of “the love of his life” the entire time and couldn’t reveal his true feelings? Or does he just really not love Lestat? I plan on reading all the books but man, it would be easier if I knew their love wasn’t entirely one sided. Props to Sam Reid for totally destroying my heart with his performance. I watched the movie yesterday, and no offense to Tom Cruise, but Sam Reid DID THE THING.

Hey!

Welcome to the fandom and the madness that is the Vampire Chronicles *laughs*

Their love is not one-sided.

That first off :) But it is difficult, and Louis' first shot at the interview was along the lines of the book, with him still being very mad at Lestat (and this then shows), while this second interview within the show... is already a lot more mellow. But which he is giving in front of his current boyfriend, indeed.

Said boyfriend, who canonically also likes to mentally influence and spell-bind.

And who has his own cards in the game.

So yeah, there is a lot going on.

But I promise it is not because of a lack of Louis' love for Lestat :))

Also, yessssss SAM SLAYED!!!!

#Anonymous #asks #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #iwtv cast #sam reid #ask nalyra

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below-average-fangirl · 2 years

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i finally watched the mummy (2017) the other day and nick morton really was made to be objectified omg why did i not watch it earlier 😭😭 my brain is SO rotted for him now i can’t stand it

anyway… mummy thoughts? 🎤

Ah, Nick Morton, my beloved HIMBO of a Golden Retriever explorer. Look at his dumb, confused face, he's adorable.

So, when this film was released, it was trashed, like, royally kicked around by critics and, apparently, general audiences. I remember Mark Kermode being so unimpressed with it that he almost wondered if it was time for him to stop reviewing films because he found it so dull, so tbh, I doubt I would have sought it out if I hadn't become a TC obsessive; thank you, TGM. I'm pointing all that out because my expectations for this film were low, but even then, when I watched it, I was genuinely surprised that it received the hazing it has because I found it so much fun and I was not bored at any point.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know there are problems with it, mainly that they're too focused on setting up a shared universe when they should have simply focused on making one film; also, the CGI is a little dodgy in places and they don't utilize Vail at all once he's dead. It's unclear as to why Set wants to become human, especially if that will make him easier to kill despite his powers. Some of the dialogue is a little clunky. Annabelle Wallis has the thankless task of doing all the exposition, but she does it well. And they don't play up Nick and Ahmanet's connection nearly enough, but despite that, I had a great time watching it; it's a solid three-star film, not brilliant but not the dumpster fire that some made it out to be. And I absolutely love how much fun Tom Cruise is having playing Nick.

Look at him! He is having so much fun, and I dig it. And the film is funny. I love the opening sequence with Nick and Vail as they're running for their lives; it's so chaotic. But it's also sentimental in places. The scene where Nick and Jenny are in the water and he's holding her face and asking if she's okay and trying to reassure her that they'll figure it out and pleading for her to stay with him makes my heart hurt. And I think that underwater sequence with the knights coming out of the tombs is beautiful and scary because the sets are amazing.

Also, like Bill Cage, Nick is not an evil man, nor is he as selfish as he believes himself to be. He stands in front of Vail when the other soldiers are pointing guns at him, and he saves Jenny. Whether or not he thought it was the last parachute is irrelevant because as soon as the plane begins to fall, he assists her in finding a parachute and ensuring she is strapped in one, saving her life. My head canon for Nick having such a low opinion of himself is that an authority figure, such as a parent, grandparent, or possibly a teacher, disliked him and turned the smallest transgression into the biggest sign that he was a terrible person, when he probably wasn't any worse than most kids, but he's been told his entire life that he's a terrible person, so he's just thought, "Fuck it. If you think I'm that worthless, I'll be it." Even Jekyll just sees him at face value and uses that as an excuse to justify wanting to sacrifice Nick so they can kill Set. Fuck you, Jekyll.

So yeah, The Mummy's not the best film ever made, but for what it is, it is fun and better than it's given credit for, and Nick Morton needs to be protected, mainly from himself, at all costs.

#asks #the mummy asks #the mummy 2017 #nick morton #tom cruise

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mspetemitchell · 2 years

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Ethan Hunt |H.C|

Total of: 11 Head Canons

Calls you princess

"Not here love..wait for home."

Admires you on missions

Actually loves to hold hands and be happy with you

Doesnt show much emotion unless its you

Constantly loses at monopoly and says "well I found the noc list so im still cooler"

A complete nerd when he talks about missions

Wishes he was spider man

Grows his hair out when hes mad at himself because he wants to feel accomplished later so he can be proud of himself

When in bed he seems like he would be rough but in all honesty hes passionate and just wants to see your face and call you beautiful

Uses pet names such as "Baby. Sweetheart. Princess. My love. Darling. Little one"

A/N!! HII! This is my first head canon list for Ethan Hunt! Let me know if you'd like me to do more of Ethan or even give me other Tom Cruise characters! I write short stories, long stories, poems, head canons, smut honestly ill write just about anything! <3

#pete maverick mitchell #tom cruise #ethan hunt #mission impossible #ethan hunt smut #tom cruise head canons #head canon #tom cruise x reader #top gun maverick #miles teller #rooster x reader

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teenage-mothman · 2 years

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Willy fucking Stampler. God damn smug mf Willy Stampler. I fucking hate this man. Abusive dog hating sack of shit. I hate that he’s canonically attractive. I fully believe he looks EXACTLY like Tom Cruise and I HATE Tom Cruise. He gives me the same reaction of when I see Tom Cruise, I want to reach through the screen and bitch slap that mother fucker so hard on the top of his head his face comes out his ass. I just know he is the worst fucking fisherman. He totally couldnt fish on an open ocean. I think a tuna would jump out of the water and bitch slap the fucker. I don’t think this mf can even swim. Imagine being such a pussy you take a cheap shot at a helpless child. I’m taking that as the fucker has no muscle mass and knew if baby Ron was aware of the bitch ass trying to kill him he would loose in a fist fight against the 8 year old. Imagine being trapped in a dimension. Couldnt be me but it is him so he’s a dumb weak mother fucker who can go fuck off. If he says one more thing to Scary I will rip his stupid mouth off his face and shove it up his ass. WHY IS HE BACK WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY I HATE HIM SO MUCH

Ok I think I’m good now :)

#willy stampler #dndads s2 #dndads #dungeons and daddies season 2 #scary marlowe

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angel-0f-verdun · 7 months

Text

6 Intoxicating Inertia

Previous Chapter

I laid my head down in Maverick’s lap, feeling the booze flow through my system and fog my brain. It felt good to relax finally, I closed my eyes ready to let sleep consume my being. Maverick was fiddling with my hair taking it down from the bun I had it in. He ran his fingers through the messy pieces causing my eyelids to get even heavier. I didn’t know what it was but he had this ability to completely put me at ease. The car door closing woke me from my drifting, Goose and Crystal had disappeared.

“Babe, we’re back,” Maverick said to me. I groaned not wanting to move from my comfy position.

“What’d you call me?” I asked him, raising my head from his lap, and getting close to his face. I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face effectively hitting him in the face with it. I let out a giggle at his surprised reaction.

“Maeve, why would I call you anything else? I mean, unless you wanted me to,” He replied with a tenderness in his tone, watching me with those hazel eyes, my eyelids wanted to fall even more.

“You’re cute… I would like--” I stopped, thinking about how dark it was outside.

“Alright, alright let’s get you inside and patched up,” Maverick said softly to me, moving to get out of the car. He grabbed my hands as I pouted, not wanting to get out. He wouldn’t be able to move me past the center console, he moved up the passenger seat and folded down the backrest. I crawled on top of the seat in its flattened position not willing to use my feet. I reached out to him.

“Up!!” I said, my voice taking on the inflection of a child hoping to get what it wanted. He moved in giving me a hug, I took in his smell, spearmint and apples.

“You smell gooood.” I complimented him, enjoying his scent clinging onto him. He attempted to get out of my grasp with no success. Prying my hands off his figure, I groaned in his ear, annoyed that he wanted to get away from me.

“Thank you Maeve,” He thanked me, a grin appearing on his face.

“Mavvvv stopp” I begged him to quit moving as he was making my world spin. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder the sudden movement made my stomach churn unhappily. He shut the car door after successfully getting me out and walked towards the house, up the stairs, and to my room. He set me down in the chair near the desk.

“Stay here, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He told me as if I were a dog that was prone to not listening. I nodded, starting to unbutton my dress whites, I didn’t get very far as the buttons were moving around. Frustrated, I wanted to just rip the shirt in half, but I kept trying, closing my eyes and feeling the buttons with my fingers instead of trying to focus on them. Although, closing my eyes made the room spin even more. As I got to the last button I sighed happily ripping the shirt from my arms, when it slipped over my right hand I winced feeling a small twinge in my hand. I threw the shirt in the closet and as I went to examine my wound Maverick walked back in with a small white box in his hands. He knelt down in front of me, took my hand, and placed it on the desk. He opened the box and retrieved an alcohol swab, ripping open the packaging.

“This might sting a bit,” He instructed me looking into my eyes before looking back to the split skin on my knuckle. I watched as he pressed the swab down on my wound letting the tiny wipe pick up the now dried blood. I winced feeling the slight tinge of the alcohol as it hit the cut. I let out a hiss at the uncomfortable sensation. He lifted the swab and threw it in the trashcan, getting another and wiping around the cut getting all the blood off the skin that hadn’t been ripped. Maverick then retrieved the ointment, placing it gingerly on my knuckle.

“You know, this probably needs stitches,” He said as he went to grab a bandaid from the kit. I waved my free hand at him brushing him off.

“Whatever it’ll be my newest addition to the collection… Just a new memory,” My words were starting to slur and I knew it was only a matter of time before I fell asleep.

“A good one, I hope.” He replied as he finished closing up the kit and moving back towards the hall bathroom to put it away. I nodded, standing up from the chair a bit wobbly on my feet. I trudged over to the bed trying to slip out of my pants as I walked. It proved a difficult task as I tripped over the excess fabric and fell.

“Fuck.” I exclaimed as I hit the floor. Maverick came racing into the room, the look of shock on his face had me giggling again.

“Hell Maeve, I thought I told you to stay where you were.” He said to me. I just smiled, closing my eyes. He held out his hand to help me up, but I had another idea, which was to pull him down to the ground with me. As I did he let out a grunt as he tumbled down next to me, avoiding falling on top of me.

“I should’ve seen that coming.” He said as he let out a chuckle, his head next to mine. I could tell he was staring at me based on the direction his voice was coming from. I looked in his direction,

“You know I would never admit this sober but I think you and I could have made a real go of it,” I told him the smile falling from my face. He propped himself up on his elbow looking at me more seriously.

“What do you mean could have?” He asked me. I opened my mouth attempting to phrase my next words carefully but my brain was going too fast for me to pick what I wanted to say. I shook my head ignoring my conscious voice.

“Do you ever think about what you would be doing had you not joined the Navy?” I asked him attempting to get us past the awkwardness that I felt pressing against me.

“We still can and I’ll prove it to you,” I heard him quietly whisper, not letting the subject slip from his grasp easily. I smiled attempting to hide the pain I was feeling in my heart from a past life. He continued to answer my question, “Not really, it was always one of my dreams. My father was a fighter pilot, lost during Vietnam. I always assumed he was killed in action but our family never received confirmation. What would you do?” He asked me.

“I’m not sure, I’ve always been this way. Growing up all I wanted to do was get away, the Navy gave me that. Now, I don’t know after all I’ve been through following this path, sometimes I think I would have been better off doing something else.” I told him, letting my eyes close, completely this time.

***

My alarm rang out loudly, pissing me off. I groaned, reaching over to smack the damn device off, when I did my hand ended up hitting something softer than plastic.

“Ouch, what the fuck?” I heard his voice clear as day and I knew who was in here with me, Maverick.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, but what the hell are you even doing in here?” I asked him, annoyed, my head starting to pound from all the loud noises.

“I must’ve fallen asleep… Sorry, I was watching–” He started as I grew more confused. He reached over to turn off the clock. I fell back onto the pillows covering my face with the extra one to block out the light. I grimaced, feeling the pain in my hand almost immediately when I tried to move it. I had no recollection of what had happened last night and wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Can you get me some aspirin?” I asked him, changing the subject entirely.

“Yeah give me a second.” He said as he moved towards the hall bathroom. I immediately flashed back to last night when Maverick was bandaging my hand, running back and forth between the two rooms. I sighed as I heard Maverick return from the bathroom with a glass of water and pills. I removed the pillow from my head, not willing to meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” I murmured out. I threw the pills into my mouth and swallowed a sip of water with them. I could see him nod from my peripheral vision.

“Better get dressed. We’ve got class and flight time today from what I hear. Should be enough time to power through your hangover though.” He told me, leaving the room to go to his own. I nodded, throwing the covers off my body and moving towards the closet. My hand gravitated toward my flight suit, picking it up off the hanger setting it down on the bed. I looked at the clock wondering if I had enough time to shower. It was 06:00 so I knew I had ample time. I had already put my toiletries in the bathroom yesterday so I knew I had what I needed. I went to the hall closet and grabbed a fresh towel before heading to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, locking it before I started to get out of my clothes. I started the water, letting it heat up to the perfect temperature, and hopped in. I scrubbed myself until I felt the smell of booze was gone. I washed my hair to make sure that it wasn’t greasy from last night. Once I was done I got out, dried off, and brushed my hair making sure to get every last tangle before I threw it into a ponytail, I would do the rest of the bun later. I wrapped the towel around my body and left the restroom for my room. I put on a clean undershirt and shorts then put the flight suit on followed by my socks and boots. I grabbed my flight bag and helmet and started down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s the hand?” I heard Crystal greet me from the table across from the island. She was chomping on a bowl of cereal.

“Agh thanks for reminding me. What the hell happened last night?” I asked her as I grabbed some cereal, milk, and a bowl.

“Well, do you want the condensed version or the detailed version?” She asked me. I groaned, it was worse than I thought if that was her question to me.

“Detailed, I guess,” I told her.

“How much do you actually remember?” She asked knowing it wasn’t much.

“Well, I remember getting to the bar, getting drinks, talking to Iceman… After that, it kind of goes blank.” I told her, pouring the cereal into the bowl, followed by the milk.

“Well, you chugged one of your vodka tonics because ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ came on. Then you went to the bar to get another. Started a bar fight, kissed Maverick, and then I took us home before they called the cops… You really don’t remember any of that?” She questioned. riddling off the list of things that were an absolute blur to me.

“I mean I kind of remember— wait, go back, I kissed Maverick??” I asked her.

“Yeah, just to fight some dude who pissed you off I’m pretty sure.” She smiled as she took another bite of cereal.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t someone else who woke up in my bed this morning,” I told her. She practically choked on her food.

“WHAT?” She asked me, completely taken for a loop.

“Yeah, I smacked him thinking he was my alarm, rude awakening for him,” I told her, walking over to the table to sit down.

“What happened?! Oh my god, does this mean??” She started rambling. I stopped her with my hand to quit.

“I don’t know, I haven’t asked him yet, and no it doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” I told her, rolling my eyes and starting to eat.

“I remember him bandaging up my hand and that’s really it. Fucking hurts like hell today, should’ve gone to the hospital honestly.” I told her as I examined my knuckle, wondering if there was an Ace bandage stored around the house somewhere.

“Well Maeve, you should probably talk to him and figure out what happened between you two.” She said as she took a sip of her coffee.

“No, because then it makes it a big deal and I’m not really sure where I’m at with the whole situation,” I told her not willing to back down from my stance. She nodded as I continued eating.

“Where are they anyway?” I asked her, noticing that the boys were nowhere in sight.

“I think they’re eating outside.” She told me, the day shift and night shift were colliding and we had such different patterns. I groaned, not willing to move from my spot here just to talk to him about something so trivial and ridiculous. I would’ve rather not known anything at all but my curiosity got the best of me.

“How’s the hangover?” She asked me.

“Ah, splitting my head in two, but I’ll be fine, what time did we get back?” I asked her.

“Around 22:00.” She answered. I normally recover fast from things like this. The regulations required us to stop drinking 8 hours before our flight time, so our flight time being around 10 am, we would’ve had to stop drinking at 2 am. Since it was more than likely that I stopped drinking by then I’d be legal and fine to go on the flight. I heard the door squeak open and close behind me and I knew our company had arrived.

“I see you managed to find the provisions that Crystal and I picked up Maeve.” Goose said. I smiled as I felt him pat me on the shoulder and sit in the chair to my right, as Maverick took my left.

“How’s the head?” He asked me.

“It’ll be better when we get this class over with,” I told him, not wanting to really do anything today but sleep until this passed.

“You happen to pick up an Ace bandage?” I asked him.

“Yeah actually with Crystal’s proactive thinking, we did.” He said as he looked to Crystal who handed me the bandage out of a Walmart bag. I smiled at her gratefully. It was black which would be fine with the uniform. I put down my spoon, starting to wrap my hand in a brace-like fashion. Maverick noticed I was having an issue with starting the wrap and grabbed the bandage from me without a second thought.

“Thank you,” I told him quietly. He smirked at me as he finished up the wrap, placing his hand on it to make sure it was good to go. He lingered there for a moment before clearing his throat and standing.

“We should probably get going,” He said taking my bowl from me and taking it to the sink. I grabbed my stuff again and headed towards the door, my keys in my hand.

“Crystal you wanna ride with me?” I asked her. She looked to Goose,

“Actually I was going to go with Goose, it’ll give you and Maverick a chance to talk” She whispered the last part. Goose spun around looking for his keys to keep himself occupied as he had heard that last part.

“Alright Maverick, let’s go,” I grunted out to him walking towards my car and unlocking the doors. I waited for him, noticing that he wasn’t near me yet, I spun around toward the front door.

“Mav!” I yelled at him, wondering where he went.

“Yeah, I figured we could take my bike?” I groaned, getting into my car and grabbing my Raybans before locking my doors and conforming to his decision. I put on my sunglasses,

“Fine,” I said as I put my hand through the strap on my flight helmet and my flight bag on my back. He got on first and started up the bike. I followed his lead straddling the bike.

“Don’t you dare kill me!” I told him as I gripped the metal behind me. He laughed, as he pulled out of the driveway slowly. He started going faster when we hit the highway, weaving in and out of traffic. He slowed down abruptly causing me to fall into his back. I wrapped my arms around his waist and I felt his breathing stop for a moment.

“Finally Reaper, Jesus.” He said under his breath, I smirked as I realized he had been wanting that in the first place. This wasn’t the time or place to talk about last night with him so I decided to just enjoy the ride. It wasn’t too long before we pulled up to the security gate at the airport, I peeled my hands from Maverick’s waist, giving my ID badge to the guard. They let us through, giving us the ID cards back. Maverick pulled up outside a hanger, parked his bike out of the way, and stopped the engine. I got off the bike and walked into the hangar seeing a makeshift classroom on the hard concrete inside instead of planes. It felt like home, just off the runway. I would love to renovate a hanger like this one into a home, but that was a far thought, almost no guy would want to live somewhere like this.

“Reaper!! Fucking awesome night last night. You definitely earned my respect, Mav, you better watch out, some of us might want a shot at her too.” Iceman greeted me, I nodded sitting down and waiting for Crystal and Goose to show up, resting my head on my arms covering my face from the light.

“Yeah, I would expect you to be hungover from last night, you want some aspirin?” I heard Slider ask me.

“Please,” I said as I heard Crystal’s chair make a terrible squeaking noise across the floor as she arrived.

“Sorry.” She whispered to me. I nodded ignoring the pounding that had started in my head. Slider handed me two pills out of his bag and a water bottle. I nodded in appreciation as he went back to sit down. Taking the pills quickly with the water, I knew I had some a couple of hours ago but more could only help at this point… Hopefully, it would solve all the issues I was having.

“Good morning everyone as you can see behind us your jets have been delivered. You’ll be happy to know nothing arrived broken. We’ve already done a preliminary inspection on them just to be safe. While you’re in this program you’ll be trained and evaluated by a few civilian specialists. The civilians are here because they are our very best source of information on enemy aircraft. One of the most qualified is our TAGREP, callsign, Charlie. She has a PhD in astrophysics and she’s also a civilian contractor, so you do not salute her. But you better listen to her because the Pentagon listens to her about your proficiency. It’s all yours Charlie.” Jester said to us as he stepped out of the way of Charlie who was currently strutting down our makeshift aisle in her high heels. I wanted to burn a hole through her heels with my eyes as the noise was very irritating on the concrete and did not help the migraine that threatened to take over. She spun around to face us, she had very pretty blue eyes that were complimented by her short curly blonde hair. I sighed pissed because more than likely she would have affairs every couple of months with the students in her class. These men were hard to resist, even to a woman of a higher stature, they embodied everything that someone could possibly want, but when you got to know them they were difficult to get along with. I almost envied her position, had I not gone the military route perhaps I’d be teaching and free of my past that plagued me every step I took.

“Thank you, hello, we will be dealing with the F-5s and A-4s as our MiG simulators. Now then as most of you know the F-5 doesn’t have the thrust-to-weight ratio that the MiG-28 has, and it doesn’t bleed energy below 300 knots, like the MiG-28. However, the MiG-28 does have a problem with it’s inverted flight tanks. It won’t do a negative G pushover. The latest intelligence tells us that the most it will do is 1 negative G…” She paused watching Maverick lean over to Goose and whisper into his ear. I rolled my eyes, apparently, it was already time to be a show-off and annoy all the other pilots and RIOs in the room.

“Excuse me, lieutenant. Is there something wrong?” She asked Maverick as he slid his sunglasses onto his face to block out the sun that was threatening our eyes.

“Yes, ma’am, the data on the MiG is inaccurate.” Maverick cleared his throat before telling her that she was an idiot.

“How’s that, lieutenant?” She asked him amused, preventing herself from laughing out loud. Maverick took off his glasses to emphasize some sort of point he was getting at.

“Well, I just happened to see a MiG-28 do…” Maverick started, Goose didn’t let him get very far though.

“We... We.” Goose said, looking at him pointedly, annoyed that Maverick had left him out, a smile broke out on my face. Fucking Goose, never wanted to be left out of the action that Maverick got them into. Crystal elbowed me,

“I taught him that,” She said snickering. I almost lost my composure, these men were toddlers sometimes who couldn’t find a way to stick up for themselves. But I’m glad Crystal had taught him where to find his balls.

“Sorry Goose.” Maverick paused looking at his RIO before turning back to Charlie.

“We happened to see a MiG-28 do a four-G negative dive.” He corrected himself, making sure Goose was included this time.

“Where did you see this?” She asked him more questions.

“That’s classified,” Maverick told her, I could tell he was smirking before I even heard the words come out of his face.

“It’s what?” She asked this time confused.

“It’s classified. I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” Maverick continued to mansplain to her.

“Lieutenant, I have top-secret clearance. The Pentagon sees to it that I know more than you.” She countered, I will admit it seemed she could stand up for herself. She almost impressed me, but barely.

“Well, ma’am, it doesn’t seem so in this case, now does it?” Maverick replied his smart ass just couldn’t stop with the snarky comments. I understood this in a way because civilians did like to pretend they were smarter than we were. It was almost as if they just thought we were there to fly and look pretty but didn’t know anything.

“So Lieutenant, where exactly were you?” Charlie persisted in asking him.

“Well, we…” Maverick paused dramatically yet again to receive praise from Goose.

“Thank you,” Goose replied before Mav continued.

“Started up on his six when he pulled through the clouds and then I moved in above him.” Maverick started to explain finally getting to his point.

“Well, if you were directly above him how could you see him?” Charlie asked. This conversation was starting to feel a bit personal to both of them. I could feel eyes on my back which made me turn to see Iceman.

“True?” He mouthed to me. I shrugged, not entirely sure because it was before my shift that they were engaged with the MiG and we’d really never had a conversation about it.

“Because I was inverted,” Maverick told her.

“Bullshit.” Iceman coughed out.

“No, he was man, it was a really great move. He was inverted.” Goose said, looking back to the perpetrator who had called them out.

“You were in a four-G inverted dive with a MiG-28?” She asked this time disbelievingly. She wasn’t alone, no one really seemed to believe it. I wasn’t sure what I believed.

“Yes ma’am,” Maverick told her.

“At what range?” She asked continuing on her line of questioning. Maverick and Goose stopped answering to have a sidebar.

“About two meters?” Maverick asked Goose.

“It was actually about one and a half I think. It was one and a half. I’ve got a great Polaroid of it. He’s right there. It must be one and a half. It was a nice picture.” Goose explained to not only Maverick but the entire class as well. I heard two other pilots behind me stifle their laughter.

“Lieutenant, what were you doing there?” She asked.

“Thanks, I like my pictures.” Goose was continuing on his random thought, “Communicating,” Goose said to Mav giving him the answer.

“Communicating… Keeping up foreign relations. I was you know, giving him the bird.” Maverick said unrelenting.

“You know, the finger,” Goose told her as he flipped off our new instructor in question.

“Yes, I know the finger, Goose.” She said, I smiled, I always did enjoy Goose's dry sense of humor. He could always make me laugh when it was needed.

“I’m sorry, I hate it when it does that. Sorry.” He apologized to her putting his middle finger away.

“So you’re the one,” Charlie said to Maverick. I just about choked on the water that I had been sipping on for this entire conversation.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied.

“All right, gentleman, we have a hop to take. The hard deck on this hop will be 10,000ft, there will be no engagement below that. Move it.” Jester said from the back of the classroom breaking up the weird energy that had filled the room. I sighed, what had transpired in that classroom had made me want to puke, had we learned anything? No not really except that a MiG can in fact do a negative G pushover. I had a feeling that Charlie had manipulated that conversation out of Maverick in order to find out who the pilot was on the briefing she had read for that particular mission. Crystal and I walked down the hallway through the upstairs lounge and to the girl's locker room. I leaned my head against the cold metal enjoying the feeling.

“You gonna be alright for our flight?” Crystal asked me, genuinely curious as she put her books in her own locker.

“Yeah I’ll be fine, let’s go blow some bitches out of the water,” I said to her putting my things away as well and heading out to the tarmac for the preflight.

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