#(draws the green guys yet again)

[suntails]

village lanterne

[melminli]

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

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There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about three years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back.“ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

next.

[hannnsh]

family and cars .. 🚗

wow guys yall probbly cant guess who my fav team is cause yknow im so good at hiding and its not obvious at all amirite hah haha …

this came to me from a dream im not joking, its so stupid 😭 this was supposed to be a doodle but i spent way too long on this 😭😓 also pls dont look at the car i cannot draw vehicles for the life of me 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️

i do not have real designs for them yet 😔 but i knowww joel is supposed to be john something toretto or whatnot but i cant help it but make these two being all cottagecore and stuff 😭😭🩷 like CMON theyre so cottagecore their colours with all the greens and browns and orange UGH, also i give them clothes i would actually wear too soooo yea heheeee

also idk if u can tell but i love jeffrey w all my heart, im so sad he didnt make it in the vids this time but surely we’ll see him again in the futyre 😞😞💔💔

closeup tehee

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing his way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED!!??3

Part 2

It's been a week since Ellie arrived at the manor. All the guests from the night of Ellie's arrival had already returned by that night. And so far, they haven't managed to pry open any more information about their brother-in-law from Ellie that they already didn't know of.

Currently, Ellie is sitting in the living room drawing on her green notebook while eating fruit snacks that Alfred prepares. Cass is watching over her, occasionally asking her what she is drawing.

Except for Cass and Alfred, everyone else is either at work or at school. Suddenly, a portal opens and comes out Cujo with a bag that has Ellie's name on it. So far, Cujo has been delivering Ellie's essential almost everyday for the past week. Whenever Ellie or Cass ask him about Danny, Cujo just shakes his head meaning either he doesn't know or he can't tell them.

Cujo also never stays for long and just jumps away whenever his delivery is done. But to their surprise, Cujo is not alone today. A woman in punk clothing and blue flaming hair follows after Cujo holding a guitar in her hand. Ellie perks up when she sees Ember coming out of the portal.

Ellie: Aunt Ember!

Ember: Hey Ellie. How are you doing? I assume you have been eating well.

Ellie: Yes! Everyone is so nice. Alfred always brings me snacks if I want to and grandpa Bruce buys me a lot of things.

Ember: Good good. I'm just here to say hi and check up on you. Your papa has been worrying a lot since he sent you here.

Ellie: Aunt Ember, when will papa finish his job? I miss him.

Ember: I don't know but for now you stay with your mama, okay? I will tell your papa to deal with his job quicker.

Ellie: Okay. :(

Ember then turns towards Cass and smiles at her.

Ember: Hey Cass. I'm Ember. Danny's friend. Sorry about the late greetings.

Cass: It's fine. About Danny, can I know what his job actually is?

Ember: Errmm, it's not that I don't want to tell. It's just I feel like you should ask him directly since even I don't know what his actual job is. Usually, Clockwork just calls him and off him go to wherever or whenever he sends him.

Cass: I see. But can I know if he is okay?

Ember: As far as I can tell, he is fine. Clockwork hasn't asked any of us for back up yet, so his mission is probably going well.

Suddenly, Bruce enters the living room seeing Ember and Cass talking.

Bruce: Why hello there miss. How can I help you?

Ember: *Stares*

Bruce: Errmm, miss?

Ember: You are that guy that got sent back and forth in time wasn't it? I remember your face from one of Danny's missions.

Bruce: What?

Ember: Yeah. You are Bruce Wayne, right? The Batman.

Bruce: How do you know about me?

Ember: It's not hard when your bestfriend is the one that helps one of his favorite heroes to escape forced time travel.

Bruce: Danny helps me back then?

Ember: Yeah. But at that time, he was mostly chasing after Plasmius. It is a coincidence he met you so he sent you back home first before he continued chasing Plasmius.

Cass: This Plasmius guy, how dangerous is he?

Ember: Ehh, depends on his sanity to be honest. One day, he might come to just fight you, another day he might try to release an interdimensional tyrant from his long slumber. So it's really random.

Cass: And this time?

Ember: Oh did Ellie tell you they are chasing Plasmius? I don't actually know what he is planning this time. Clockwork is being his cryptid ass again and not telling the whole story.

Bruce: Is this Clockwork safe?

Ember: Well, he is okay. I think he adopted Danny at one point so you could call him his adopted parents. But Danny also has real parents so there is that. Overall, he wouldn't allow any significant harm to fall onto Danny or anyone close to him unless he knows that is the best solution possible.

Ember: Oh well, I need to go now. Have a concert to attend to. Bye Ellie.

Ellie: Bye Aunt Ember! Bye Cujo!

Cujo gives out a bark and opens a portal. Both of them enter the portal and disappear from the living room. Bruce has that serious calculating look on his face while Cass just takes everything and processes them. She trusts his husband's judgement. And since she is with Cujo and Danny trusts Cujo, that means whoever Ember is, she is probably a friend.

Bruce goes to his study to enter the Batcave, while Cass and Ellie continue playing in the living room.

-Somewhere else-

A young man with white hair and black and white hazmat suit is flying across an urban city as he chases after a vampire-like older man that is holding a bracelet giving off a green light.

Danny: Give me the bracelet, Plasmius!

Plasmius: You gotta take it from my own hand, little badger!

Danny shoots an ecto beam towards Plasmius as he dodges the attack coming from Danny. Danny being agitated, tries to fly faster but he is already going as fast as he can.

'I wish I could just appear in front of him.'

Suddenly, Danny's vision goes black and when his vision comes again, he sees Plasmius rushing to him. Plasmius is shocked to see Danny suddenly in front of him and tries to maneuver away from him, but at such close distance, there is no way for him to outrun Danny.

Catching his wrist, Danny puts a collar that Clockwork specifically made for Plasmius. Plasmius turns back into a human and if not for Danny holding his wrist, would have fallen down from the sky.

Danny, seeing Plasmius unconscious, processes what just happened. Did he just teleport? How? He doesn't even know how to open a portal. He kind of just wishes it and it happened.

A green portal appears in front of him, cutting off his thoughts. Danny sighs as he doesn't even know what is going on. He should probably return first and ask Clockwork what is happening.

Part 4

[rootedinrevisions]

In His Arms

A/N: Just a little aftercare fluff with our favorite cowboy. Not much of a plot and this is kind of more of a drabble than a one-shot. But I was struggling to write anything else so this is what my brain wanted to think about tonight

WARNINGS: Implied smut, maybe cockwarming? (not sure if that's the right label for what happens here.)

WORD COUNT: 1,116

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The room was steeped in warmth, the kind that only came from the perfect combination of love and passion. The soft hum of the ceiling fan mixed with the distant sound of crickets outside the window, creating a soothing backdrop to the slow return of your breaths. Tyler was beneath you, his broad chest rising and falling steadily as your own heartbeat began to settle. He’d only been home an hour, but already, it felt like the days apart had been nothing more than a distant memory.

You lay sprawled over him, your body molded to his like it belonged there—because it did. His arm rested lazily above his head, his fingers occasionally flexing against the pillow. The other was anything but idle, his roughened palm drawing a lazy path up and down your spine. His touch was featherlight yet deliberate, the tips of his fingers brushing over every curve, every dip of your body like he was memorizing you all over again.

Neither of you spoke at first. Words weren’t necessary—not yet. The moment was too raw, too precious to break with conversation. He was still buried deep inside you, his body unwilling to part from yours. You felt his heartbeat against yours, steady and sure, as if tethering you to him.

"You okay, darlin’?" His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded against him, your cheek resting against the firm plane of his chest. "More than okay," you murmured, your words muffled but still clear enough to make him chuckle.

"Good." His hand slid into your hair, fingertips massaging gently at your scalp. "I missed you so much. Felt like I was out there forever this time."

It wasn’t the first time he’d been gone chasing storms, but this week had felt especially long. His absence left an ache in your chest, one you hadn’t realized had grown so deep until he was back and holding you like this.

"Me too," you admitted softly, your lips brushing against his skin. You felt the way his body shifted beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” he finally murmured, his deep voice a low rasp that sent a ripple of heat through you. His words came with a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

You nuzzled into the curve of his neck, your lips brushing against his pulse. He tipped your head back slightly, just enough so his gaze could find yours in the dim light of the room. His green eyes, flecked with golden warmth, held a look so tender, it nearly stole the breath you’d just regained.

"I thought about you every night," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "Every damn minute. You don’t even know what you do to me."

His free hand began its slow path down your back again, fingertips trailing over the curve of your spine. When he reached the small of your back, he paused, pressing his palm flat against your skin and holding you there. 

"This," he said softly, "this right here is what I needed."

A flush rose to your cheeks, and Tyler’s lips curled into a soft smile as he felt the heat of it against his neck. 

“There it is,” he teased, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made your heart stutter. "That blush I love so much."

He shifted slightly beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he pressed you impossibly closer. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. He didn’t stop touching you, his hand tracing slow, deliberate paths that left trails of goosebumps in their wake.

“You feel so damn good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, then down to the corner of your mouth. “I swear, nothing else compares. Nothing else even comes close to having you like this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to it, his lips capturing yours in a slow, searing kiss that left no room for doubt about how deeply he meant every word. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

“Stay with me like this a little longer,” he said softly, his hand coming back up to cradle the nape of your neck. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

His fingers trailed down your spine again, his touch firmer this time, as if grounding you both in the moment. His lips found the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he continued in a hushed voice that sent shivers racing through you.

“I missed you so much,” he said, his tone rougher now, edged with the kind of desire only he could make feel like a promise. “And I’m not done with you. Not even close. I want you again, sweetheart. Over and over.”

His words made heat bloom low in your belly, and you couldn’t stop the way your body shifted against his. Tyler’s hand on your waist tightened, holding you still as his eyes darkened. 

"Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "We’ve got all night. No need to rush."

He let his hand drift lower, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding back up to the small of your back. 

"I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you," he whispered, his lips grazing your jawline. "Gonna make sure you feel it—every inch of it."

You shivered as his words washed over you, his breath warm against your skin. He shifted beneath you, his body a comforting weight as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"I love you," he said softly, the words catching you off guard even though you’d heard them before. There was something different in the way he said it now, like it wasn’t just an expression but a vow.

Your heart swelled, and you leaned up just enough to kiss him again, pouring every unspoken feeling into the connection. He responded in kind, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough, like he was memorizing every curve and dip.

The world outside didn’t matter—not the storms he chased, not the time apart, not anything but the two of you in this moment. In his arms, you felt it all: desired, cherished, and deeply, irrevocably loved.

And as the night stretched on, Tyler made good on his promise, showing you again and again just how much you meant to him.

[geminiwritten]

baby sister ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: hangman has a serious crush on you, it might even be love, but it's a little complicated seeing as rooster is your older brother

notes: yes, i finally watched top gun (i'm stubborn, okay), and yes, i am obsessed! i'm not too sure how i feel about this, but it's my first one so please be kind! i also tried writing it by kind of switching pov's, so sorry if its weird / confusing! but as always, i love feedback so please, please let me know what you think x

warnings: swearing, very minor physical altercation with a creepy guy, boner joke, switching pov's (kind of), protective older brother, and likely some very inaccurate us navy details

word count: 7493

- One Year Ago -

The old bar smells exactly as you remember it; wood polish, worn leather, stale beer, and a hint of ocean air. It’s a lot cleaner than it used to be – the soles of your shoes aren’t sticking to the floor – and you assume that’s thanks to the new owner. It isn’t as busy as you would expect for Friday at 4PM, which you’re somewhat thankful for as you easily find a spare barstool beside the vacant pool table.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks with a polite smile.

“Just a water, please.”

He retrieves a bottle from the fridge below the bar while you check your pockets for cash, pulling out a few dollars and handing it to him in exchange for the water. He smiles again before turning around to serve patrons on the other side of the bar, and you start drawing shapes in the condensation of the bottle while you wait.

“This seat taken?” someone asks, appearing beside you.

Startled, you turn quickly to find a pair of green eyes much closer than expected. You’d have to be stupid not to immediately notice that this guy is gorgeous, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he knows it too.

“Not yet,” you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

He sits himself on the stool and signals the bartender, ordering a schooner of pale ale draught before pulling a few notes out of his back pocket. He isn’t in uniform, but you can tell by the way he holds himself that he’s an officer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, “are you visiting?”

You nod before taking a large sip of water, your eyes constantly watching the new patrons that enter through the main door. You know better than to flirt with a lieutenant (guessing by his age), your mother always told you to stay away from military men.

“Have you been to North Island before?” he asks, seemingly unphased by your lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Military family?”

“Sort of,” you reply.

“Okay, let me guess,” he leans both elbows on the bar and looks at you, unleashing the full power of his pretty green eyes, “your dad was military, gone for months at a time with little to no contact, which left your mom to raise you all on her own. You would hear her crying at night and watch her struggle every day, but then when your dad got home, he was the hero; forget about all her hard work. Eventually, your mom got sick of being alone and began to resent him, so they grew apart and the next thing you know, dad moves out with his new girlfriend and mum tells you every single day never to date a man in the military.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, because damn this man is pretty, and you simply can’t find it in yourself to ignore him.

“Close,” you say, “but it was her first husband who was military, and he died in action. My father was a banker, safe but boring, and it didn’t work out. But you are right about one thing; mom has always told me not to date a man in the military.”

“Oh,” he takes a long sip of his beer, stalling as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t totally insensitive.

“Not that I always listen to what she says,” you add with a smirk, making him choke on his mouthful of beer.

He looks back at you, shocked but still smiling, “Are you flirting with me?”

Your turn sideways on the stool to face him, opening your mouth to reply when a familiar sight walking toward you catches your attention. You stop and smile, looking straight past the man sitting beside you.

“Hey Baby,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Hey,” you jump off the stool, “how are you?”

“Woah, hey,” the green-eyed man stands too, a slight frown between his brows, "Rooster, c’mon man. You’re going to have to find yourself another girl; let’s not make this a competition too.”

Bradley’s brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you have to roll your lips to keep from giggling.

“Oh, here we go,” one of the men who walked in with Bradley chuckles, and you think you can remember meeting him the last time you visited.

“A competition?” Bradley repeats, his tone mildly threatening.

“Wait,” the man glances between you and Bradley, “are you two dating?”

Bradley scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Then why did you call her baby?”

“It’s her nickname, genius,” the same man as before says, and you suddenly remember Bradley introducing him to you last summer. You never did find out his real name, but they call him Payback.

The green-eyed man turns to you in shock, “Like, your call sign?”

You shake your head, “I don’t fly.”

“She wishes,” Bradley says as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Hangman, this is Baby, as in my baby sister.”

The poor man chokes so hard on his beer, you’re surprised it doesn’t spray out his nose. He coughs and splutters, holding a hand on his chest while the rest of Bradley’s friends laugh from around the pool table. Bradley chuckles too, seemingly satisfied with the damage he’s caused, before turning to give you a proper hug.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Not terrible, but I swear my bag was the last to come out on the carousel.”

He releases you from his hold and orders two beers from the bartender, handing you one soon as its poured. “You remember my friends, don’t you?” he asks as he turns to face the game of pool, “Payback and Fanboy, and that’s Bob; I don’t think you met him last summer.”

You smile and give an awkward wave, not bothering to walk around and shake everyone’s hands in the middle of a game.

“Dude,” Fanboy says to Hangman, who is now standing on the opposite side of the pool table, “I can’t believe you were hitting on Rooster’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Hangman frowns, “she was hitting on me back.”

Bradley’s head whips toward you, his eyes wide, “You what?”

“Oh, calm down Braddy,” you say, “I can look after myself.”

Payback snickers, “Braddy?”

“Aw, Braddy,” Fanboy coos.

Bradley shoots you a glare as you slip out from under his arm to find a seat, grinning sheepishly at your brother as his friends continue to mock your nickname for him. After half an hour and two pool games – these guys are freakishly good – another two lieutenants join the group, introducing themselves as Coyote and Phoenix.

“So,” Phoenix says as she sits on the stool beside you, “what brings you to North Island, aside from missing your big brother?”

Even though Bradley’s back is to you as he takes a shot, you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Well, I usually try and visit more than once a year, but he’s hardly been on the ground in the past twelve months,” you say, “then Uncle Pete called me a few weeks ago and said he was going on a trip with Penny. So, he asked if I could come babysit Braddy for a while.”

“Aw,” she giggles, “Braddy needs a babysitter?”

Bradley flicks your arm as he walks past, circling the pool table to find the best angle, “Would you stop telling people embarrassing shit about me.”

You shrug, “How was I supposed to know that you were pretending to be cool?”

The rest of the group laugh as Bradley completely botches his shot, sinking the white ball.

“I’m sorry, Rooster, but I definitely like her better,” Hangman says with a smirk.

You roll your lips as you look over at the lieutenant, appreciating how tight his t-shirt is as he bends forward over the pool table to take his shot.

Bradley points at him, “You better cut it out, she is off limits.”

- Present -

You decided to move to San Diego about two weeks after flying in last summer, and it had nothing to do with the beach day you went on with Bradley and his friends, where Jake tackled you in the surf, all shirtless and wet and muscly. Bradley was beyond excited to have his little sister closer to him, he even helped get you a desk job in the operations department. It wasn’t anything close to what he was doing, protecting the country and all that, but you’re liking it way better than your old job. Which again, has nothing to do with the fact that you get to take lunch breaks with a certain lieutenant. Your brother is there too, but you don’t fancy staring at him, you’ve seen enough of him over the years.

“Are you going to eat or stare?” Natasha asks, nudging your side with her elbow.

The mouthful of pasta that had been balancing on your fork falls off and plops back into your bowl. You turn to her, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

“My God, you’re practically drooling.”

“Is the pasta good?” Jake asks, clearly having overheard and misunderstood your conversation, “I knew I should have chosen that; the sloppy joes are too sloppy.”

He leans across the table and takes your fork, stabbing it into a few pieces of pasta before popping it in his mouth. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch his lips wrap around the utensil that was previously in your mouth, and you want to be ashamed of yourself for allowing something so frivolous to get you so excited, but you simply can’t help it. With your brother the constant cock-block always hanging around, sharing a fork is the closest you’ve gotten to Jake in the year that you’ve been here.

“Mm,” he groans, “that is good.”

“You can have it,” you push the bowl toward him, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, and you just contaminated her fork,” Bradley says, smacking Jake’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she minds,” Natasha pipes in.

Oblivious, Jake looks up with a huge mouthful of pasta making his cheeks puff out, and somehow, he still looks adorable. You shoot a subtle glare at Natasha from the corner of your eye before picking up the apple from your tray and biting into it.

“So,” you turn your attention to your brother, “The Hard Deck after work?”

He nods, “Yep, I’ve got a year of free beers to win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “It’s cute that you think you have a chance of winning in a pool comp against me.”

“Or me,” Jake adds.

Bradley snorts, “Please, you’ve been so off your game lately, and Phoenix” – he turns to look at her – “is good, but not as good as me.”

“You are so full of yourself, do you know that?” Natasha says, her eyes narrowed at Bradley.

You quickly tune out as they launch into a petty argument about who is better at pool and who is going to win The Hard Deck’s billiards tournament, having heard it almost a hundred times over the past month. It’s an eight-week competition, every Thursday night, and this is only the fifth week but you’re pretty sure you’re going to kill your brother if he doesn’t stop bragging about being undefeated so far. Then again, he hasn’t yet had to play against half of the dagger squad, arguably the best pool players on North Island.

“Alright, we better go,” Bradley says, nudging Jake again.

Jake scrapes the last of the pasta from the bowl into his mouth before standing from his chair and leaning across the table toward you. “Thanks Baby,” he says with a wink, “I owe you one.” He drops the empty bowl on your tray and slides your tray across the table, stacking it on top of his.

When he straightens up, both trays in his hands, Bradley is glaring. “Watch it, Seresin.”

“What? I was just thanking her,” Jake says innocently, “don’t get your panties in a knot.”

You roll your eyes and stand up from your chair, “See you guys later, then?”

Jake can’t help himself, and he turns toward you wearing his most charming grin, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Dude!” Bradley exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder.

Natasha sighs, despite the amused smirk on her lips, “Come on you two, fight about it later.”

You roll your lips to keep from giggling, because you know that will only irritate Bradley more, but you’re pretty sure your cherry red cheeks are about to give something away. Before your brother can notice the way Jake’s words have affected you, you turn on your heel and head back toward your office, anticipation bubbling in your stomach for tonight.

- Jake -

Maverick ended today’s training half an hour early, dismissing everyone but Rooster since he still had sixty-two push ups to do after betting that he could catch Phoenix and Bob before Mav could. He was wrong, but Jake admires the cockiness.

The rest of the squad have already made their way to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change and get to The Hard Deck for a well-earned drink. There’s no current mission for the dagger squad, no impending doom, so that on top of the excitement for the billiards comp has everyone in the highest of spirits. Everyone but Jake, of course.

He’s the last to enter the locker room, dragging his feet and slowly unzipping his flight suit as he weaves through the rest of the boys toward his locker. He isn’t sad by any means, just frustrated, because it seems that the longer you live in San Diego, the more protective your brother gets. His rule about you being off limits isn’t easing any time soon, and neither is Jake’s crush.

“What’s the matter with you?” Coyote asks, shoving his flight suit into his locker right beside Jake’s.

“Hm?” Jake looks up from his feet, “Oh, nothing, just distracted.”

Payback peers around from the other side of Coyote’s locker, his lips curled into a smirk, “So, how’s that hideously inappropriate and all-consuming crush on Rooster’s little sister going?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Jake says sarcastically, “I should be ready to kill myself any day now.”

The rest of the boys dissolve into laughter, each pausing in various stages of undress to giggle about Jake’s unfortunate situation. Everyone but Rooster and Phoenix know at this point, having easily figured it out by the way Jake can’t seem to focus anytime you’re in the same room, and thankfully, none of them plan on outing his little secret anytime soon. Jake likes to think it’s because they’re afraid that Rooster might shoot the messenger, and while that might be a small part of it, he knows it’s really because they feel sorry for him. The first girl who Hangman actually wants something real with, and it’s the little sister of Bradley Bradshaw.

However, Jake is surprised that Phoenix hasn’t yet figured it out, but grateful nonetheless, since she’s way too close to you to have that kind of ammunition under her belt. There have been a few times where he thought she might be onto him, little glances at you whenever he gets too flirty and subtle comments that could have underlying meanings, but she hasn’t confronted him about it yet, so he assumes she’s just as clueless as Rooster is.

“Come on, Hangman,” Fanboy says from the opposite row of lockers, “it can’t be that bad.”

“You want to bet?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder. “I got half a bar at lunch today because I used the same fork as her.”

The laughter, having died down for a moment, picks up again with renewed vigour. Even Bob, who is usually quiet and refuses to comment when the boys start teasing Jake about his crush, is giggling into his open locker, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, man,” Coyote says between fits of laughter, “you’re down bad.”

“What’s so funny?” Rooster asks, standing in front of the door as it swings shut behind him.

The laughter quickly subsides and everyone turns to hide their faces in their lockers, all but Jake who is left staring at Rooster’s quizzical frown.

“Coyote was just saying that he nearly soiled himself today when Mav pulled that cobra manoeuvre in front of him,” Jake lies, at which Coyote shoots him a glare.

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, really? I didn’t catch that.”

“Too busy running your mouth, Rooster,” Fanboy chimes in.

“Yeah, how’s your stomach after those two-hundred push ups?” Payback asks as he walks toward Rooster with an evil grin, reeling his fist back to strike his friend in the abdomen.

Rooster evades the attack, eyes wide, “Don’t even think about it, my abs are on fire right now.”

Jake relaxes as casual conversation picks back up; Rooster seemingly fooled by his lie as he jokes around with the rest of the squad. They all strip out of their flight suits and shower before changing into civilian clothes, packing their gear into their lockers, and heading out the door. Those who aren’t headed to The Hard Deck bid their goodbyes, while those eager for a beer begin making their way to the bar.

“Should we wait for the girls?” Jake asks as they walk toward Rooster’s car.

“Well, at least one of us has to,” Bob replies, glancing around the group of six.

Rooster tosses his keys in the air and catches them again in the palm of his hand, “Fight it out amongst yourselves boys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for them,” Jake offers quickly.

Fanboy has to stifle his laughter behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose.

“That’s unlike you to be so obliging, Hangman,” Coyote says, his narrowed eyes telling Jake that he’s still bitter about being thrown under the bus earlier.

“I actually think I left my watch in my locker, so I have to run back anyway,” Jake lies again.

“Easy done,” Rooster, oblivious as ever, says, “climb on in fellas, I’m thirsty.”

The rest of the group all move toward Rooster’s car and pile in, while Jake turns his back and pulls out his phone to text Phoenix, asking her to wait for him if the two of you exit the locker room before he’s done ‘looking for his watch’.

More and more of late, Jake has been doing things that are ‘unlike him’ in order to gain more time with you away from your brother, the ever-present cock-block. It isn’t often that he has the chance, and he knows his behaviour is becoming noticeable, but until Rooster confronts him for trying to spend time with you, he’s going to keep trying.

He runs in and out of the locker room, simply to keep up the lie, before fishing his watch out of his pocket and strapping it to his wrist as he walks back toward the car park. He could recognise you from a mile away, all perfect and effortless, leaning casually against Phoenix’s car and twirling a stray piece of hair as Phoenix talks to you. The closer he gets, the more he can see that whatever Phoenix is saying is intense, and it’s making you nervous. Your hair twirling is less idle and more anxious as Phoenix stresses her words with her hands, looking exasperated.

A part of him wants to sneak up and try to catch the conversation, but before he can think too hard about how he could become stealthier, Phoenix spots him. “Come on Bagman, hurry it up!” she calls across the lot.

You glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him and he simply cannot stop the grin that takes over his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trace,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours.

Phoenix scoffs, “What’s your obsession with panties today?”

When he comes within a few feet of you, he frowns and turns his attention to Phoenix, “What?”

“First Rooster at lunch and now me,” she says. “Are you not getting laid or something?”

The way her eyes drift over to you as she speaks, a smirk threatening to curl her lip, has Jake’s heart racing. Does she know? How could she know?

He clears his throat and wills himself to seem unaffected by her taunt, but whatever smart-lipped quip that he would usually respond with refuses to pop into his head. He panics, sweat prickling the back of his neck. Phoenix turns her attention away from you and back to him, her playful smile slowly fading as the silence stretches and he struggles to retort. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nat,” your voice breaks the tension, “we all know Hangman has no trouble with the ladies.”

Phoenix shakes her head, as if needing the physical queue to stop her own spiralling thoughts. “So he tells us,” she says, grabbing the handle on the driver’s side door, “but I’m yet to witness his skills in action.”

She casts Jake one last dubious glance before opening the door and taking her seat behind the wheel. You turn to him then, your gaze holding him captive as you ask, “Do you want shotgun?”

He shakes his head, swallowing on his dry throat, “You take it, I’m good in the back.”

- You -

Jake looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares out the window of the car, watching the Naval Air Station pass by as Natasha drives toward the exit gates. You can’t help glancing at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds, only able to see a portion of his side profile with the angle of the mirror, but it’s still enough to know that he doesn’t look normal.

As a matter of fact, Natasha looks a little odd too, as if she’s trying to silently solve a math problem in her head. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows furrowed, and her hands are holding the steering wheel tightly at ten and two. She too keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, whether looking at Jake or simply checking the traffic, you can’t tell, but her shoulders stay tense and her lips pressed firmly together.

“So,” you say, swivelling in your chair to properly look at Jake, “how was flight school?”

His face breaks into a soft smile and your pulse triples its speed, your heart thundering in your chest as you stare into his pretty green eyes. “I graduated flight school a while ago, darlin’,” he says.

You love when he uses a pet name other than your nickname, because ‘baby’ just doesn’t have the same ring when its something your whole family uses.

“I know, but I heard Maverick over the comms say that he was going to send the lot of you back to flight school.”

Jake chuckles, “You were listening on the comms?”

You shrug, “Sometimes I listen in, just to be nosey.”

You really only do it so you can enjoy Jake’s voice throughout the day, because something about Jake in that cockpit doing what he does best gets you incredibly hot and bothered. What can you say? You’re a masochist.

“Well, I better start watching my language,” he says, “or I can just tell Mav that you’ve been listening in.”

Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t do that.”

His smile turns into a smirk, “You sure about that?”

All you want to do is crawl into the back seat and crush your lips against his. He looks good enough to eat right now, fresh from a shower, his damp hair a little spikier than usual, and his green eyes sparkling with mischief and something else you can’t quite place.

“Speaking of Mav,” Natasha pipes in, “he said he was going to stop by the bar tonight.”

Great, not only a brother but a cock-blocking uncle too. Well, uncle figure.

“Oh, fun,” you say, trying not to sound so sarcastic, but Natasha isn’t stupid. She catches your displeased tone and shoots you a knowing look, her lips now curled into a smug smile. At least she seems to have figured out her math problem.

A minute later, Natasha pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. She finds a park right next to Rooster’s car, and the three of you climb out in silence. You can hear the jukebox playing from outside as you approach the main door, Natasha in the lead and typing a message on her phone while you and Jake follow closely behind.

“Nervous?” you ask him, referring to the pool comp.

He chuckles, “Only because you’ll be watching, darlin’.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings making you sick with nerves as they flutter violently. You want to reply, but your brain is complete mush as you stare back at his gorgeous grin, so all you can do is playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his.

The three of you enter the bar and make a beeline for the familiar faces seated at the booth closest to the pool table. The cues and balls are nowhere to be found, and there’s a sign written in black marker laying on the green felt that reads ‘POOL COMP IN SESSION, DO NOT TOUCH’.

Before you can reach your brother and the rest of the squad, Natasha grabs your hand and tugs you toward the bar. “Want a drink?” she asks, moving too quickly for Jake to follow.

You glance over your shoulder and watch him watch you with a confused frown as he takes a seat at the booth with the rest of the group. Natasha pulls you a decent way away from the squad, finding an open space at the bar and leaning against it, but she doesn’t flag down Penny or Jimmy.

“I think Seresin likes you,” she says, her voice low and eyes wide.

Your stomach does a somersault, “What?”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but” – she smacks her hands on the bar emphatically – “he really likes you.”

“Is that why you were so tense before?”

“Yes, because I-”

“Hey ladies,” Penny interrupts, an easy smile on her lips, “what are we drinking tonight?”

“Hey Penny,” you muster your best I’m Totally Not Freaking Out Right Now smile, “two schooners of the pale ale, please.”

She nods once and fills two schooner glasses, sliding them across the bar and taking the cash from Natasha’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks Penny,” Natasha says, before taking a big gulp from her glass.

You tip your own drink to your lips and drain half of it, plonking it back down and wiping the foam from the tip of your nose before turning back to your friend. “You were saying?”

“Before, when he came up to us in the parking lot,” she explains, “I made some stupid joke about him not getting laid and I looked at you, because duh, but so did he.”

You frown, “And?”

“And he looked totally panicked.”

“Maybe he was just embarrassed.”

She rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t embarrassment, he looked like I’d just outed his biggest secret, and he didn’t even comeback with some stupid, sarcastic comment.”

You sigh, “Nat, I love you, but I think you’ve gone insane. Jake doesn’t see me as anything more than Bradley’s baby sister, he’s probably just fried from work and couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

You shrug, “Probably not.”

“Okay, fine,” she picks her drink up and steps back from the bar, “I’ll find a way.”

She starts walking back toward the booth where the rest of the squad are, and you quickly pick up your own half-empty schooner before following her with an amused smile on your lips. Natasha is anything if not determined.

- Jake -

Jake releases the breath he’s been holding from the moment Phoenix dragged you away from the group, toward the bar. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous, his sweaty palms pressed against his jean-clad thighs as he watches the two of you approach the booth. He has no idea what Phoenix just told you, and he has no idea if Phoenix really knows what he thinks she knows, but his nerves are firing on every cylinder regardless.

“This seat taken?” you ask him as Phoenix takes the spare spot beside Bob.

He shakes his head, “All yours, darlin’.”

“Careful, Hangman,” Fanboy chuckles, “don’t want Rooster hearing that.”

Jake rolls his eyes, forcing his demeanour to appear relaxed, “Rooster’s all talk.”

“That so?” Rooster asks, stepping up to the booth with a tray of beers.

Laughter rumbles through the group.

“I guess we’ll find out later tonight,” Phoenix chimes in, “you two are versing each other in the second game.” She slides the schedule for tonight’s games across the table toward Jake, pointing at the names beneath ‘Game #2’.

“I guess we will,” Jake says, plastering on his cockiest smirk.

Rooster rolls his eyes before turning to find a spare chair, since both sides of the booth are very full. On one side, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix are sitting side by side, and on the other is Payback, Fanboy, Jake, and you pressed firmly against Jake’s side. He doesn’t mind, of course, because your leg is warm against his, and with his arm slung over the back of the booth, you fit almost perfectly against his side. In fact, he’s surprised Rooster hasn’t said anything yet.

After two rounds of beer and a lot of banter, it’s time for Jake and Rooster to compete. Penny calls them over to the table and sets it up, handing each of them a cue before rattling off the rules as she did before the first game. They flip a coin and Rooster calls heads, but tails lands face-up and Jake gets to break.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he lines his cue up with the white ball, a small voice at the back of his head demanding he look cool since you were a mere three feet away, watching. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is an easy game, before releasing his shot and sending the balls scattering.

The game begins smoothly, each of the lieutenants lining their shots up with precision and hitting the balls with calculated force. They each sink a few, and at about halfway through, the game is tightly tied.

“Come on, Seresin,” Rooster mutters as Jake bends over for his next shot, “what does it take to make you crack?”

Like the idiot he is, Jake lets his eyes wander away from the white ball and across the green felt until they find you, still sitting at the booth on the opposite side of the pool table. Without thinking, his back hand jabs the cue forward, but without his full focus, it knocks the white ball on a short and wobbly path toward nothing in particular.

The spectators give a sad ‘ooh’ as Jake sighs, and Rooster smirks, “Now who’s all talk?”

Jake only shakes his head and moves away from the table. Since the white ball hadn’t made it all that far, Rooster positions himself almost exactly where Jake had been, bending over the table a little further and aiming his cue at the white ball. He focuses for a moment, scanning the constellation of balls across the felt before he glances up and notices you. From where he’s positioned, he is looking directly at you, exactly as Jake had been when he fumbled his shot.

Rooster’s smirk drops and his gaze moves slowly toward Jake, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cue tightens. Jake’s heart crawls up into his throat, his palms sweating as he stares back at Rooster. Did he just figure it out?

Rooster takes the shot and sinks two balls before repositioning himself and sinking another one. His next shot puts the white ball in an awkward spot for Jake, and he fumbles again. He’s lost all focus, unable to see anything but your gorgeous face or your brother’s murderous one.

After ten more minutes, the game is over and Penny is announcing Rooster as the winner. Jake isn’t knocked out of the competition, but he doesn’t have to play again tonight, which he is more than grateful for.

“Alright, Rooster,” Penny says, “you’ve got five minutes and then it’s you and Fitz.”

Jake finishes his beer before quickly excusing himself to the men’s room, avoiding eye contact with every member of the squad as he hurries through the bar. Once in the safe confines of a bathroom stall, he covers his face with both of his hands and sighs, loudly.

After everything – all the stolen glances and subtle flirting, every excuse to see you or talk to you – did Rooster really just figure it out in the middle of a stupid pool game?

“This is ridiculous,” Jake mutters to himself as he rubs his hands down his face.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he has no idea how to deal with it. The nerves are different than what he’s used to, it’s not like before a mission when he can channel his anxiousness into anticipation and put all his focus into being an expert pilot. Because he knows his jet inside out, and he knows the cockpit like the back of his hand, but this? It’s all different. He doesn’t know what this feeling is because he’s only ever felt this strongly about one thing before; flying. But right now he’s pretty sure he would spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant the rest of his life would be spent with you.

He stays in the stall for another few minutes, making sure Rooster’s second game of pool is well and truly underway by the time he exits the bathroom. The door to the men’s room has hardly swung shut behind him when Phoenix appears in front of him, startling him.

“Far out, can’t a guy catch a break?” he gasps.

“Were you in there crying about your defeat or just hiding from Rooster?” she asks, her expression deadpan.

He frowns, feigning confusion, “What? Why would I be hiding from Rooster?”

“Because you’re in love with his baby sister.”

The panic he had managed to subdue mere minutes ago returns with a vengeance, coursing through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity. He scrambles for a defence, words, anything. “W-Wha- Phoenix, I- you don’t-”

“Save it,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “I’m not going to interrogate you or try to talk you into making a move.”

His tangled mind struggles to follow along, “Why would you-”

“He is,” she says, pointing at their captain who is sitting alone at the end of the bar.

Jake’s stomach flips, “He is what?”

“Going to talk to you.”

She grabs his wrist, the strength of her grip surprising him even though he knows she’s just as strong as he is. She drags him toward the bar where Maverick is sitting, sipping his beer and watching the pool competition with keen eyes.

“Evening, Captain,” Jake says, and he knows the moment it leaves his lips that he’s being unusually formal.

Phoenix rolls her eyes again, dramatically. “All yours, Mav,” she says, before turning on her heel and returning to the booth with the rest of the squad.

“Hangman,” Maverick says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “take a seat.”

Jake swallows hard as he sits on the barstool beside his captain.

“You know,” Mav continues, “you haven’t addressed me as captain in a very long time.”

“Well,” Jake says, “it's never too late to make a good impression.”

Maverick chuckles quietly before tipping the last of his beer to his lips. When he puts the glass back down on the bar, Penny takes it, offering Jake a small, almost sympathetic smile as she does.

Mav turns on his stool to face Jake, “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little different lately. Want to talk about it?”

Jake clears his throat, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Cap- uh, Mav.”

“You sure about that?” Maverick asks as he looks away from Jake, casting his gaze across the bar toward the booth where the dagger squad are seated. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been acting strangely ever since Y/N moved here.”

Hearing your name is the closest thing to a prayer in Jake’s ears, because he is so used to hearing your nickname, that hearing your real name feels reverent.

He sighs, admitting defeat, “Who told you?”

Mav chuckles again, “Technically, Phoenix did, but no one had to tell me. I might be old, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve lived long enough to recognise the way you look at her.”

Jake frowns, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was kind of enjoying the way you’ve been sucking up to Rooster,” Mav replies sheepishly, “letting him be team leader in all the mission simulations, buying him beers every weekend, and letting him win at pool of course.”

Jake can feel his cheeks burning, “I didn’t let him win, Mav, I just can’t focus when she’s around.”

Maverick claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning on him slightly as stands up. “Then stop being so scared of her big brother and do something about it, before someone else does.”

He nods toward the squad again before stepping back and walking behind Jake, around the bar toward the pool table. Jake’s eyes follow his captain as he circles the bar, stopping to watch the game of pool on the opposite side of the table to where the dagger squad are seated. When Jake’s eyes pass over the intense game between Rooster and Fitz, his breath catches in his throat.

- You -

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom when this man cornered you, stopping you on your way and trapping you against a wall on the other side of the booth. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around work, but you can’t be sure, because the only person you do recognise in the sea of naval uniforms on base is Jake. This man is not Jake, and that is one of the main reasons why you can’t be bothered to listen to a single thing he is saying.

“Do you think you’ll stay in San Diego for long?”

You look up at him, pressing your shoulder blades into the wall in an attempt to create more distance between you and him. “Um, probably,” you reply.

You glance quickly over your shoulder, for once wishing that your police dog of a brother would do what he does best and scare this man away, but he’s too focused on his pool competition.

“That’s great,” the man leans even closer, his breath wreaking of alcohol, “maybe we can get together sometime, alone.”

You press your lips into a tight smile, neither wanting to accept nor reject the man’s proposal in the current, vulnerable position in which he has you trapped. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a cheer erupts behind you and Penny announces Rooster as the overall champion of the night. You clap your hands and smile at your brother as he does a few dramatic bows.

You turn back to the man with your excuse for escape on the tip of your tongue, “I better go-”

“We should get some fresh air,” he says, grabbing one of your wrists in a vice grip.

Panic washes over you, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as he tugs on your arm. You stumble forward and glance over your shoulder, hoping that someone has noticed, but he chose the perfect time. The rest of the squad have rushed to the pool table, taking the cues from Penny to set up their own game while other pub patrons congratulate Rooster on his win.

Just as the man reaches the doors leading onto the beach, Rooster’s eyes find you. His grin vanishes and he quickly tries to step away from the crowd surrounding him, but Maverick appears at his side with a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. What the fuck?!

You watch Maverick say something to Rooster, who’s eyes then dart away from you and toward something across the bar, but before you can follow his gaze, the man tugs you out the door. The cool night air bites at your bear arms as you stumble down the wooden steps onto the sand.

“Much better,” the man says, finally releasing you.

You turn sharply to run back into the bar, but you only make it two steps before coming face to chest with someone else. You know who it is even before you look up to find a very concerned pair of pretty green eyes.

“Jake,” you breathe, your body relaxing as he wraps an arm around you.

The man steps toward you again, “Hey, what the-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jake exclaims. “Who the fuck do you even think you are dragging a girl out of the bar when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“I don’t recall hearing her saying no,” the man argues, puffing out his chest.

“Because you didn’t give her a fucking chance,” Jake spits.

He takes half a step forward, guiding you behind his body as the man grounds himself as if getting ready to throw a punch. Your stomach sinks and the lump in your throat doubles in size at the thought of Jake getting hurt for you. Just as you think the man is about to wind his arm back, his scowl shifts to something behind you and his jaw goes slack. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Javy and Reuben step out of the bar and your heart aches with fondness.

Without so much as another word, the man shoots Jake one last look before turning and walking away. Javy and Reuben chuckle to each other before stepping back inside the bar, leaving you and Jake alone on the sand.

“Hey,” he turns to face you, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you drop your gaze to your shoes, “sorry about that.”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, “Don’t be silly, that was not your fault and nothing to be sorry about.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, drowning out the music from the bar and the sound of waves crashing. All you can feel is Jake, close and comforting, and staring down at you as if he might want to kiss you too.

“Well,” you step toward him, as close as you can get without pressing your body against his, “then I’m sorry about what might happen to you after I do this.”

You curl your fingers into the material at the collar of his shirt and pull him forward, stretching up onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. He’s startled at first, but quickly responds, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body against his. He tastes like beer and spearmint gum, his lips soft as that move with yours, fitting together in the most perfect way. As you take a quick breath, his tongue slides past your lips and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and just as his hands begin sliding down your hips, you’re both startled by a loud wolf whistle. You both turn toward the bar and see Mickey with his head out the window and a stupidly wide grin plastered across his face. The rest of the squad are all pressed against the glass, almost completely fogging it up as they cheer and wave.

“Oh, God,” Jake sighs, “Rooster is going to kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Don’t worry, Hangman, I’ll protect you this time.”

Inside the bar, your brother turns to Maverick, having to look away as you pull Jake into another kiss. “You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks, “You’re okay with Hangman sticking his tongue down the throat of my baby sister?”

Maverick chuckles, “She’s not just your baby sister Bradley, and that’s not Hangman. That’s Jake and Y/N, and it looks to me like they might be in love.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, deciding to ignore the scene on the beach and return his attention to the pool table. He knows deep down that Maverick is right, so he silently gives his blessing while starting a list in his head of what he will and will not allow the two of you to do in front of him.

END.

[melancholyhigh]

ARTWORK

ft. leon x artist!reader

synopsis. you're an artist, and leon's your muse.

content. 1.5k words. fluff, smut. nude painting, leon's pov, needy leon, praise kink, masturbation, handjob.

note. this was j supposed to be fluff but i got ahead of myself.

masterlist. i love your guy's feedback :3

“Paint me like one of your French girls.”

You laugh at Leon’s statement. He’s perched on the small, green couch in your home art studio, wearing nothing but his pink, fluffy robe as you prepare your oil paints. 

“You’re my first French girl, Leon.”

–-

You had suggested painting him nude while you were both in bed, lazing around. You’re in each other’s hold, Leon’s arms around your waist and face on your chest when he asks about any new projects you had in mind. 

He loves hearing about what art piece you were doing or planned to do. It was how you expressed yourself, whether there was a deeper meaning or none at all. He found it beautiful. Every work you do it had a bit of your personality in it. He could tell your work from thousands by the intricate details they carry. 

When you told Leon you wanted to paint him, he wasn’t too surprised. You mentioned he was your favourite thing to draw or think of when you had art block. The admission had left him sputtering, his face red as he tried to get his words out.

On the third date, you showed him your sketchbook, pages littered with drawings and portraits of him. Some were quick sketches, while other’s looked like you took time to get every detail of him. 

You’re always on my mind, Leon. You had confessed. Was it a little creepy? At that moment, flipping through the drawings of him, the attention to detail they held, he’d say it was romantic.

People have always said he was pretty as a picture, yet you’re the only one that makes his heart beat faster and his tummy fill with butterflies when you say he’s the type of gorgeous you’d find in a painting. 

“A nude painting,” you specify. It was as if you told Leon he was the object of your affection for the first time again. His head buries into your chest, trying to hide his flushed face. You smile at his sudden bashfulness. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “I want to try something new, but it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, angel. But can’t you use a picture?”

“Where’s the fun in that, pretty boy.”

He groans, muffled by your shirt, and you giggle. 

He loves to please you — in more ways than one — and nothing compares to the smile that graces your face, so he agrees. It’s not like Leon’s uncomfortable with you looking at him bare and vulnerable. There were other problems he was worried would interrupt your craftwork. 

–-

Leon leans back into the couch, doing just as you instructed. His bare back hits the soft cushioning, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

His robe is off, on the floor next to your easel. He rests his chin on his hand, supported on the arm of the couch.

He’s nervous. You said it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but this almost feels more intimate than being intertwined with you in bed.

Maybe it’s the gaze you hold when you’re analysing him, grasping the compositions and layering basic shapes onto the canvas. 

He can’t help but think of when you told him he’s your favourite canvas to mark up. Sucking the reddish marks into his skin which turn the prettiest shade of purple, as you like to put it. Or when you said the colour on his cheek was your favourite shade of pink.

You always did like to rile him up, muttering the filthiest things to him in the most mundane setting, just like right now. 

“Spread your legs wider, Leon.” You mumble in a casual tone as if you don’t know the implications of your own words. You’re so engrossed with getting your work right you probably don’t.

It’s so fucking sexy seeing you in your element. Your brows pinched together, and your face serious with concentration. 

He obediently listens to you, parting his legs wide, and the problem he wishes wouldn’t happen is currently hardening between his thighs. You don’t notice, mixing paints to ensure it's the correct shade. 

You’re probably 30 minutes into painting, and he’s already hard. You said you’d take a while to finish, and he could tap out whenever he wants to, but he doesn’t want to disappoint. 

Finally, you’re looking up from the canvas and towards Leon. Your brows quirked up in surprise when trying to examine his features, studying the curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jawline to imitate on the canvas. His face is pink, the shade you know and adore so much. 

Your eyes trail down his body, his dick fully erect, slapping against his stomach. Your gaze is on his face again with a smirk on your lips.

He knows, you know, he’s rock-hard simply from the glances you take at him and the words you mutter. His lashes flutter, and he moves his hand to cover his face while the other is shamefully obscuring his cock.

“Be a good boy, and don’t move, Leon. I want to make sure everything looks good.” You say, and he thinks you aren’t going to acknowledge his 7-inch problem.  

“Oh, and make sure your pretty dick is hard for me, okay, baby?” You go back to your painting, trying to hide your smug expression.  

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his nerves, but he relents, going into position, not before giving his cock a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t cum too, okay? I want to be the one making you cry.”

A few hours pass, and Leon is on the verge of tears. He listened to what you said, only providing himself with enough stimulation to keep his cock hard but not enough to tip him over the edge into bliss. 

Precum leaks from the head down to the shaft. His dick is red and spent. He wants nothing more than for you to stop painting and make him cum.

“I’m almost done. You’ve been such a good boy for me, baby.” 

Your words are almost enough to make him spill his cum over the expensive fabric of your eccentric couch. 

You’re adding the finishing touches to the painting with each stroke, making sure you get the placement of each mole or freckle correct and each vein of his cock following to the tip right. 

You swear he belongs in a museum. No art can replicate how beautiful he truly is.

“I’m done.” You sigh, moving to get up to rid your skin of paint. 

After rinsing yourself off the paint, you make your way to Leon. You get comfortable in a seat on the couch right next to him. He’s breathing heavily in anticipation, looking up at you through his long lashes. Pretty, pink lips parted as pretty gasps left him. 

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft as you move your lips slowly in unison. He breathes out your name when you pull away. One of your hands moves to his throat, softly squeezing. Leon whimpers, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“Good job, baby. You didn’t cum once. I know it hurts, but I'm going to make you feel better,” you whisper, softly kissing his flushed forehead. 

Your hand moves to his pulsing cock, and gives it a soft squeeze, relishing the whine Leon lets out. Your touch sends goosebumps along his skin, and he plants his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hips eagerly buck into your hold. He’s practically sobbing into your neck, his soft hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rest your chin on top of his head, smelling the fragrance of his shampoo. 

You thumb the slit on the tip of his cock, using his precum as a lubricant to start moving your hand back and forth on his shaft. 

You start at a slow pace. You don’t want Leon cumming quickly, wanting to enjoy every cry and whimper. 

The soft shlick noise of you jerking Leon’s cock fills the room with his desperate cries. He pulls back away from the crook of your neck, tears flowing down his blushing face.

“Please, please, please, g– go faster, angel. I’ve been such a good boy for you. Let me cum, please.”  He pleads, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. His hips rutted frantically into your palm. How could you deny your boy?

“Okay, pretty baby. Cum for me.” You say softly, picking up the pace of jerking him off.

He whimpers loudly, thighs quivering lightly as his orgasm crashes and hot spurts of his cum spill onto your hand. He’s panting, dazed with lust and staring at you with what seems like hearts in his eyes. 

“T- thank you, thank you, s’much.” Leon gasps like a broken record, and you think he’s fucked himself dumb with your hand.

You peck his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can show you my favourite artwork yet.”

[proxycrit]

I love your au!!! I love how the hylian duo look like gremlins, I LOVE the expressions and sass constantly and the changes to the lore, the worldbuilding and also the emotions (OUCH). I love their relationship with purah and each other and the new champions. I love the depth you gave Yona and her relationship with Sidon and Mipha. I love how link feels comfortable talking to sidon in addition to sign, I don't know if he does that with anyone else but Zelda unless its absolutely necessary (eg: just launched out a cannon and is paragliding down, so hands are busy) (side note: i love how much of an adrenalin junky/gremlin he is!!)

I do got a few questions! Will the pair get the sheikah slate again (so say link has the slate and zelda the pad), and can both slates do the warping and item storage (food, ingredients, armor, weapons, etc) (if so: no WONDER link was so upset! His collection!)

Does link have access to the ultrahand abilities (ik you said not The ultrahand, but what about fuse or ascend or rewind etc?) Where is the mastersword??

Does Link still have the champions' abilities, or did he lose those when their spirits moved on at the end of botw?

I know these are a lot of questions but I can't stop thinking about it!! The last few updates sent me back rereading the whole au and now its just vibrating in my head and giving me no piece

This is long and rambly, just know I am very much enjoying this au! Its silly and fun and touching and cute. Thank you for working on it!!

Oo some notes (also ty for circling my au haha im glad other people fixate like i do)

(Prewarning— i did not finish totk despite putting triple hours in it, so a lot of this story is being written while playing, though i know the big broad strokes thanks to cultural osmosis and video essays. A lot of Familiar Familiar builds from my playthrough with BOTW over TOTK, so the sheikah influence is significantly stronger and I will always choose botw characterization over totk characterization as a result.)

That aside

1. Sheikah slate’s dead. Rest in pieces, link’s rare collectable korok poop. Purah’s extracting as much data as she can to put on the purah pad but you can see the dread in her eyes whenever she has to tell link resurrection is not possible.

2. No idea about the zonai arm powers yet— im thinking about ascend, but the longer i go through this story the less likely ill hand it to him just due to immersion breakage. He and zelda will be getting sheikah gadgets from purah though! Maybe ill have a scene of him wandering through the sky island shrines, but without zelda warning rauru he and sonia wouldnt have prepared anything for the hero of the future. (But i DO love ascension and fuse. Lowkey dislike the building mechanics from a concept art pov because the green glue makes me want to cry, but it’s FINE i GUESS)

2b. Master sword’s chilling in korok forest. Link put it back in this au because of Reasons (part of his and zelda’s characterization in this au is to discard their past roles and embrace the present, not as knight and princess but as hero and researcher. They both have to face the reality those roles aren’t dead, but it’s a work in progress. I may also never address it. This “one off hehe lemme draw some guys” idea quickly spiraled into a web comic series so apologies for the vagueness, because i too am watching them adventure with dread and awe and i don’t know where they’ll go with it. They literally write themselves.

3. Rip champions, their ghosts are Gone (but their influence remains. You go mipha, keep haunting the narrative girl, i love you)

I know that some of these story notes don’t quite match up to what totk states is stone cold canon, but that’s the joy of fan work! Anyways sorry for folks who i have NOT answered asks of— i have a lot of them and I’m much better at the drawing and writing part then the socialization aspect (please feel free to peak in to my zoo enclosure ever so often though. I need the enrichment)

[zaahvi]

slowly starting to work on my own evanuris designs, first up are dirthamen and falon'din! (i did the busts a month ago now and hadn't decided on the outfits yet so that's why the colours don't match lmao)

some more design notes under the cut :)

next designs -> [june & sylaise] • [andruil & ghilan'nain]

in my headcanon, dirthamen was their original spirit (of guidance) and split while making his body because his soul was conflicted about whether he wanted to, or remain as a spirit. when he split, "dirthamen" was content with his new form, while the other half - falon'din - was not, and was twisted into despair. specifically, i imagine it as the sort of despair where you try to cling onto anything to try to make yourself happy, but to no avail.

i thought it'd be neat for them to have a mark symbolising their spirit shattering, like a birthmark. then making it look like their (eventual) vallaslin design made a lot of sense.

i had an idea for dirthamen to have one eye a long time ago, because he has a LOT of similarities to our odinn - god of knowledge and wisdom, often depicted as a hooded figure, and has two ravens (interestingly, while fear and deceit sound like demon names, huginn ("thought") and muninn (anything from: memory, will, remembrance, intention) sound like spirit names). and while elgar'nan holds odinn's title of all-father, he's more like tyr imo.

dirthy's outfit was loosely based off the robed evanuris in the black codex concept art where they're doing the ritual at the blight box lol. i saw that person and was like yeah that's my special god with his dark robes and his little dagger. ofc i had to give him more style though, and dropped in some colour (as falon'din has canonically claimed the colour black) i decided on green because of his eye colour, and turquoise because sometimes when light hits ravens' feathers they kinda look blue. his mosaic has him covering his mouth, so i covered his mouth here too. also, i know his symbol has a little mohawk thing going on in the ingame statues, i couldn't draw it at that angle guys i'm sorry, shapes are hard.

since falon'din mirrors dirthamen in appearance, he got the single eye too. his colours are also more muted because of the whole despair thing. i also found it really interesting that his symbol is the sun, i 100% thought that was sylaise, but it makes sense as sometimes the setting sun is seen as a symbol of death. also the crook he has on his mosaic was really interesting to me and i included it after i read an 18 page paper on them while researching. it's a shepherd's tool - but can also be seen as a symbol of power/status, and there's quite a few of our irl gods depicted holding one. it's honestly really fascinating. that little magic spark doesn't mean anything though it's just for flair :)

i put fally in an ancient elven armour with minimal design changes as he doesn't strike me as sentimental and is rather more like someone who wants to show off and be the cuntiest person in the room at all times. although black is his colour, again i muted it a little, same with the gold. i may edit his design a little in the future to include his owls but for now i'm just kinda trying to figure out how they'd fit in

[hoshigray]

HOSHII MY LOVE this is gonna be my first ever request to you 😕 i usually refrain bc i get shy but im so touch deprived rn i NEED YOU TO (only if u want to no pressure pookie) MAKE A LIL MAKEOUT DRABBLE with literally any character plsplspls its carnal atp i love u

-🍓

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the way i wanted to make this a multi-post, but i've been thinkng this exact scenario w/ toji for the past week, it needs to get out of my head!! i appreciate you entrusting you're first req w/ me awwww ;w;

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! reader - suggestive content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - dry humping/grinding - thigh riding - fluff yet...suggestive - grinding - thigh riding - fingering (f! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - Toji and you being touch starved - implied reader is toji's partner who looks after Tsumiki and Megumi (yes, I'm feeling soft, shut up) - mention of spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

After swaddling Megumi to sleep, you slowly put him in his cradle. The year-old baby snores silently as he leaves your arms’ warmth and lies in the comforting chill of the sheets. You then move silently to tuck in Tsumiki, the toddler sleeping in her tiny bed. You kiss her forehead gently, making her smile unconsciously. After saying a hushed goodnight, you close the door.

The plan was to stay until the kids fell asleep, stopping by your boyfriend's place for a night since it's been a little while since you last saw each other. Work’s been keeping you away for a minute, and stopping by at his apartment was needed to happen before you crash out from stress. And seeing the little ones’ faces was the cherry on top, their wholesome beaming faces instantly fueling your social battery. 

After silently walking out of the hall, you enter the living room, where your boyfriend stands by the chair with your bag. You smile pleasantly, teetering your way to him. And he, Toji, smirks at you, straightening a bit when you’re close enough. “Gotta go,” you say with a whisper. “Better catch some sleep before heading back to the office tomorrow. Megumi should be out till morning, so you should sleep easy tonight.”

“Thank Christ,” he makes you giggle, hushed not to wake the children.

The silence pushes you to look at him, your heart skipping at his forest green orbs already latched onto your frame. You cough faintly before grabbing for your purse. “Need anything before I go?”

A hand grabs your wrist to pull, and Toji impersonates thinking to himself while his hands snake to your waist to draw you closer. You roll your eyes – knowing what game he’s playing – but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. He then says, “Mmm, only one thing comes to mind.”

“And what would that be?” You quirk a brow, but your expression changes once he brings his face inches closer.

“I’m still waiting’ fr’ my kiss.” His gruff tone is dialed down, but his words affect a warmth to coarse through your chest.

It’s hard to say no when Toji’s nose brushes yours, lips hovering over yours, and your eyelids closing on their own. How long has it been since you’ve been close to him like this? You can’t even remember, work corrupting you for so long that this moment feels a little surreal.

“Hmm?” He teases you with a kiss on your cheek, and you shiver at the contact. “A guy can’t get a goodnight kiss before seein’ his baby off?”

You bastard… Holding back is futile when he kisses the corner of your lips, your hands cup his face, and bring him to your lips properly. He groans, the both of you sighing as your hands wrap around his neck.

You break the kiss, knowing it isn’t sufficient for you both. Toji licks your bottom lip, and you whimper as he kisses you again, a soft noise resulting from the withdrawal. “Toji—Mmm,” scarred lips claim yours once more, this time with more hunger. “I have to go…”

Your words aren’t acknowledged, not when he chews on your bottom lip — a signal for more access. Fuck, your resolve dwindles with the insertion of his tongue, almost going weak in the knees. But before that, Toji smoothly picks you up, and the sudden shift has you yelp.

“Stay with me,” Holy shit, the way he was looking at you caused your stomach to do flips. So entranced that you don’t realize he is walking to the couch to place you down on your back, crawling above you. “I missed you. Just tonight, sweetie.”

Liar, you know he wants you here for more precisely because that’s what you wish. But, “I…I can’t, I have to go—Mmmph…!”He slammed his mouth to yours again, nibbling on your lip until his tongue was let back inside your mouth. You moan, his leg propped in between yours, bumping his knee to your groin, which has you screaming silently. “Ahhnn! Toji, not there!”

“Shhh, relax, angel,” he coos, using a hand to massage your skull affectionately. He moves his knee, and you’re practically grinding on his thigh with a chewed lip.

“I can’t stay,” you’re hushed by his lips again, and your hips move on their own. “I have to go…Ohhh.”

“You say that, but look who’s ridin’ my thigh.” His chortle is low, and your stomach does knots. Toji moves your legs so he can be nestled between them, and kissing your neck melts you under him. “C’mon, princess, ya know I can’t let you go like this.”

Your brows scrunch together at him sucking your skin, legs coming around his waist as you hump into him. Toji does the same, rocking his hips to you perilously, the groin of his sweats grinding onto your bottoms, covering your throbbing chasm. God, it felt too good to stop now, your hands roaming inside his white wifebeater to purchase. 

He kisses you again, spit covering your soft lips, and you whine as he teases and sucks on your tongue; your breath hitches while his free hand slithers down inside your bottoms, and a shaky shriek is prompted by his fingers pushing into your panties.

“That’s right,” he coaxes you between pecks, loving the way your hands scratch on him. “Gonna treat ya right t’night, angel—”

However, the fun stops once you two hear the sound of a door crying, sniffling, and cries getting louder as they approach closer. It was Tsumiki, the poor girl shedding tears through her drowsy state. 

“Miki?” You call to the toddler; Toji quietly moves off you so the little brunette can come running into your arms. “Can’t sleep, sweetie?” She nods and burrows her face into your chest. You kiss her temple, “Must’ve been a nightmare.”

Her father hums and ruffles his daughter’s hair, chuckling when she swats his hand away. Toji then leans to your ear, “I’ll get the bed ready.” A mild glare meets a naughty grin before he gets up to his bedroom, leaving you on the couch to soothe the crying child back to sleep.

So much for sleeping easy tonight…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[deegeemin]

❄️✨❄️REMINDER THAT IDW SONIC WINTER JAM IS OUT!!! ❄️✨❄️

I'd love to talk about some neato things I got to draw in the comic! Spoiler warning for some contents below! If you haven't read anything yet, come back after reading the comic!

Let's start off with the cover thumbnails! I was more inclined to do A since it wouldn't spoil the big surprise Orbot and Cubot had in store! Otherwise I probably would've gone with B or D! It has that bombastic party sort of feel that I think would've been super fitting!

Here, Eggman is temporarily staying at one of his many bases throughout the world after the collapse of his Eggperial city! This base is inspired by Industria from Future Boy Conan and a bit of Eggmanland!

He also sure loves his chicken and fries!

A little beachside balcony in Green hill! I felt like we generally don't get structures there as much so I thought it'd be a nice addition!

The design on the floor is the stage from the JP Sonic X intro! It gets covered up by snow after but still neat to include!

Look at this magnificent cast of characters! I wanted to use the poses that each pair had when they were first seen together! I'd considered giving Big his winning animation pose from SA1 but alas no space haha!

Cubot's taped on eye brow gag was one I suggested and it's a reference to the same gag from FLCL!

Lil sonic team logo Iasmin asked for! Sonic sure knows to appreciate himself! Good on him.

And here's a sonic 3 wreath and the SA2 lock on reticle from the mechs!

Amy and cream's spread of delicious looking food beautifully rendered by the coloring god Reggie! I wanted to include all their items from the Official Sonic the Hedgehog Cookbook! So if you want to make them yourself, YOU CAN! (except for uhh the experiment on another panel. you guys can figure out what's in that yourselves haha)

Also made sure to list all the pages you can find the recipes!

This is one of my fav gags that Iasmin wrote in!! Can you all guess what this is meant to vaguely resemble?

Quick round of character refs from Eggman's screen going in order from left to right! [Conductor's wife and Conductor, Barry and Gadget, Early Conductor design, Early Barry design (his outside eye markings are white tho), My uh Sonicsona lol]

Mecha Sonic mark 3? Yep Iasmin wanted him to be there and so there he shall be!! Hopefully we get to see him again!

I remember seeing the story Iasmin made and it really felt like it could be something you'd see in a sonic anime episode if it were made nowadays. I drew the comic with some influence from Sonic X because of that. I think the most telling detail fans might notice is the constant 3 spines for Sonic.

but YEAH another absolutely wonderful comic I got to work on! See ya'll on another issue!

[genderqueerpositivity]

I absolutely cannot wait for this election cycle to be over because genuinely what the fuck. I keep drawing parallels to the 2016 election because there are just so many similarities, but what I haven't said much about yet are the ways in which things are worse.

Having the majority of people I know or randomly encounter be Trump supporting Republicans is absolutely wild now, because sometimes they will just drop the most unhinged comments you could possibly imagine into casual conversation as if they're simply commenting that the grass is green or the weather is nice today, and every time it gives me this bizarre sensation like I am somehow the one living in a different plane of reality.

The Democrats are intentionally bringing undocumented people into the country and giving them drivers licenses so they can vote in the upcoming November election, and unless Donald Trump wins and is allowed to carry out his mass deportation plan the United States will never again have a Republican Christian president.

Joe Biden has been using the US military to release chemicals into the atmosphere for the past four years which have the ability to affect the weather in order to trick the American public into believing that climate change is real.

The attack on Donald Trump at his rally was rally a plot enacted by The Deep State, a secret group of powerful liberals who are running the country behind the scenes, and they don't want Trump to win in November because he is too powerful for them to control.

Joe Biden was replaced by a secret identical body double when he allegedly had Covid several weeks ago, and the double is the one who really dropped out of the election, gives all of his speeches, and does all of his interviews now for him.

Those are just the ones I heard last week.

And the reactions I get when contradicting these wild takes range from rage to mocking to a bizarre persecution complex. In 2016 and even in 2020 I was able to have a lot of productive conversations with many people who disagreed with me greatly on major issues, and that is largely not happening this time. If I dare to disagree, they turn to anger, attack me personally, or cry immediately that I'm denying their right to free speech. When bringing up my actual lived experiences with certain issues, I've been dismissed immediately as emotional and brainwashed. There is no room for discourse or discussion anymore, it has broken down.

I know that we've been going out of our way to call them weird, but we're not really talking about fringe weirdo conspiracy theorists anymore, we're talking about your neighbors and my coworkers and your aunt and the guy behind me in line at Aldi. These people are everywhere, they're 100% serious about believing in this shit, and they're voting Republican in November come hell or high water, truth be goddamed.

You know, the lives of millions and millions of women, LGBTQ+ people, undocumented people, and other marginalized peoples are at stake in this election but it feels increasingly like reality is at stake too.

"Alternative facts" sounded outrageous seven years ago...now they've made it a way of life. Unless we can correct course, and rapidly, it isn't going to get better.

[mochiwrites]

couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou

——————————

“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.

Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.

With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.

He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”

Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”

His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.

“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”

Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”

Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.

“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”

“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.

Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”

Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.

“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”

“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.

Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.

It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.

He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.

It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.

Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.

(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)

It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.

“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”

Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.

“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”

He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”

Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.

Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.

Let me hold you for a little longer.

Stay with me for a little longer.

Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.

How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”

“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.

Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”

Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.

They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.

[little-diable]

Wishes do come true - Dean Winchester (smut)

I’d give a lot to spend Christmas with Dean, and I’m sure y’all feel that on a deeper level. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: It’s the first Christmas Dean and the reader are spending as a couple. Naturally, they end up at a bar with Sam, but while the younger brother finds other people to spend the evening with, Dean and his girlfriend get lost in each other.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, public, bathroom, dom!Dean

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.3k words)

Snow was falling from the dark sky, resting on Baby’s windshield as Dean, Sam, and (y/n) drove through the small town. Silence filled the car as each one of them was stuck in their own thoughts, relishing in the quiet Christmas spirit.

They had decided to find a bar for the night, grabbing a few drinks. It was the first Christmas they got to spend together, finding back together like they had as young adults.

“I’ll grab some drinks.” Sam was out of the car within seconds, rushing across the cold parking lot to step foot into the bar first. Bright Christmas lights were greeting them, flickering down on Dean and (y/n) as they watched Sam disappear.

“Is he fleeing from us or just excited about the girls he’ll get to chat up tonight?” Her question left Dean chuckling, allowing (y/n) to soak up the raspy sound she loved oh so much. Things between her and Dean were unfamiliar to say the least, they had been dating for a few weeks by now, finally giving in to the longings they hadn’t been able to shake for the past years, and yet both still needed time to adjust.

His calloused fingertips brushed against her wrist as he found her hand, interlacing their fingers to pull her towards the warm bar. Loud music greeted them as they stepped inside, it smelled of beer and harder liquors, an all too familiar mixture by now. (Y/n) easily spotted the taller Winchester brother at the bar, grinning down on two girls wearing Christmas dresses, “Well, I guess we’ll have the room to ourselves tonight.”

“Perhaps Christmas wishes do come true after all.” Dean’s mumbled reply forced a laugh out of (y/n), loud enough to momentarily draw Sam’s eyes towards the couple. She watched him say something to the girls before making his way across the bar, carrying two bottles of beer. (Y/n) took her bottle with a grateful smile, letting the beer wash down her throat while her eyes began to wander.

“I’ll see you guys later, or tomorrow.” Sam disappeared from their side again, pushing through the crowd to find his way back to the girls. Dean mumbled something (y/n) couldn’t understand, letting him pull her towards one of the few empty tables.

For a moment or two, neither of them spoke, letting the warm atmosphere wash over them. Their hands were still clinging to one another, silently grateful that they didn’t have to worry about any supernatural creatures for tonight, fully focused on the celebrations.

“I,” Dean cleared his throat, he took a sip of his beer before allowing his green eyes to find her curious ones again. “I was always wishing for this to come true, you, spending Christmas with us.”

She could tell that Dean struggled to speak the words, watching his cheeks turn into an almost rosy colour. His words made her heart skip a beat, letting the muscle clench in her chest. (Y/n) leaned closer to press her lips against his, tasting the beer on him as he pulled her further against him.

“I was always hoping for the same thing, and I am eternally grateful for you, Dean.” Another kiss was shared between them, and another, forcing a soft groan out of Dean the second she parted from him.

“Let’s get out of here, sweetheart, let’s make the most of our room for the night.” Dean finished his beer in one go - all while (y/n) watched him with lust-blown pupils. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every sip he forced down his throat, making her shift impatiently in her seat.

“I don’t want to wait that long.” She mumbled the words with a smirk tugging on her lips, eyes flickering towards the bathroom. Dean followed her gaze with a grin, rising to his feet to tug her along. (Y/n)’s excited giggles spurred him on, a sound that echoed through the empty hallway leading towards the bathrooms.

He pushed her into one of the small rooms, locking the door before finding her lips again. Dean moved her against the sink, hands placed on (y/n)’s waist to keep her pressed against him. She could feel his cock growing harder, pressing against his jeans as she rocked herself against him, “We’ve got enough time tonight, but for now, I want to watch myself fuck you.”

Dean rasped out the words, making her breath hitch in her chest. The words dripped with something darker, something shooting sparks down her spine in anticipation. She allowed Dean to turn her around, eyes finding their reflection in the mirror. Even though (y/n) tried to keep her eyes open, they instantly fluttered close the second he kissed his way down her throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, I could drown in you.” Her heart kept racing in her chest, spurred on by Dean’s overly affectionate words. She could only moan out his name, feeling his fingers undo her trousers before they disappeared in her panties. His calloused fingertips caressed her pulsing bundle, groaning at the feeling of her arousal covering her folds.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? Always so ready for my cock.” Another moan left (y/n), followed by a whine the second he pulled away. Her wide eyes studied his concentrated expression while Dean freed his cock. Within seconds he had repositioned her, pushing down on her back to move her further towards the sink.

Dean brushed his cock through her folds for a few seconds, making both moan in anticipation before pushing into her just like he had done this very morning as Sam had left for his jog. Her whimpers filled the bathroom, eyes struggling to stay open even as his hand found her throat, keeping her locked in place.

“Watch yourself taking my cock, look at you, you’re already drunk on me.” Pride dripped from his words, making her shudder in agreement. Dean fucked her from behind, hips meeting her with every ferocious thrust. He wasn’t wasting any time, and wasn't set on dragging this out. All both could focus on was the feeling of being connected so intimately, not leaving any space between them.

“Dean,” (y/n) sobbed his name, blinking a few times to clear her blurred vision. Her knuckles grew a shade lighter from the tight grip she had on the cold sink, desperately trying to ground herself. “God, I love how you fuck me.”

Another raspy chuckle left Dean, perfectly understanding what she was trying to voice out. He was just as addicted to her, knowing that he could never be with another woman again, fully in love with all that (y/n) was to him.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s like we were made for one another.” His lips found the back of her neck, nibbling on the skin while his thrust grew even faster. Both would cum any moment now, unable to stop some more moans from leaving them. She let go of the sink with one hand, circling her clit to give herself one last push.

Dean had to tighten his grip on her, watching her come undone in the mirror with trembling limbs. He gave it some more thrusts before following her down the edge. His moans rang in her ears, louder than any Christmas carol she knew by heart, a sound so familiar and sweet she’d give her all to hear it every single day.

“I love you, Dean.” He pulled out of her with a smile, turning (y/n) back towards him for a breathless kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

[girlgenius1111]

flipped 2

ingrid x mapi x reader fluff + angst. r and mapi try to get to the bottom of what's going on with ingrid. wasn't positive i was going to write this but anything for @sunnyaelia

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When Ingrid woke, she didn’t open her eyes right away. She was much too comfortable, a soft blanket draped over her body, her face pressed comfortably into Mapi’s sweatshirt. She could feel your hands on her back, slipped up under the shirt you’d pulled on her. Your hands were smoother than Mapi’s, mindlessly stroking up and down. She could hear you both talking quietly, too, and the sounds of your voices were like some kind of soothing drug. You were mostly just talking about nothing, but a question Mapi posed caught her attention. 

“How does your head feel?” She asked softly, brushing some hair back away from your forehead. 

Honestly, it didn’t feel good. It was pulsing with a headache that you knew was from exerting yourself too much, from the rush of endorphins and chemicals in your brain. The pressure inside your skull was intense, and though it wasn’t very pleasant, you didn’t mind much. Not if the cause had made your girlfriend this relaxed in Mapi’s arms. 

“Okay.” You lied, not wanting to draw attention away from Ingrid for even a moment. 

“How does your head feel?” Mapi asked again, frowning this time as she could tell you weren’t telling the truth. 

“It’s been better.” You allowed, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Mapi gently running a finger over your forehead. 

“Amor,”

“How is your knee?” You countered. Mapi rolled her eyes. 

“Do not change the subject. You should have told me it was bothering you.” 

“I was fine. Ingrid needed this. It’s worth it, if she feels better.” You argued back. Mapi had a hard time coming up with a dissenting response, because honestly, she’d do almost anything to make Ingrid feel better, too. Instead, she turned her attention to the woman draped over her, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile at the sight. 

“She looks relaxed.” Mapi murmured, taking in the perfection of Ingrid’s face, a perfection she never got tired of looking at. 

“I’m worried she’s going to go back to how she was before when she wakes up. Acting like she’s fine, running herself into the ground. It’s a miracle she hasn’t picked up an injury yet, María, we can’t let her go on like this.” 

Mapi hummed her agreement, and Ingrid felt her heart clench. It wasn’t her intention to make you guys worry, really the opposite. She wanted to take care of everything possible so that neither of you had to worry. She wanted to play so well, it instilled confidence in the team that the back line was secure. She wanted to be a leader. She wanted to be dependable. She wanted to be perfect, perfect for both of you. 

The realization that she hadn’t been able to do this for you stung, and she felt tears welling in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it. Both you and Mapi noticed her stiffen slightly, and the way her eyes scrunched together told you all you needed to know. Before either of you could speak, Ingrid was forcing her eyes open, a devastated green looking up at you. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you,” she whispered, her forehead creasing with sadness. 

“You don’t need to say sorry for that, amor.” Mapi promised. 

Ingrid shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, so hard she almost seemed angry with herself for crying. “No, you both have more important things to worry about than me, I’m okay.” 

“We have nothing more important to worry about than you, Ingrid. Nothing. Don’t say stuff like that because it isn’t true.” You said, unable to hide how upset her statement made you, and wondering how you and Mapi had messed up so badly that Ingrid was so convinced that she wasn’t important. “You are the most important thing to us.” 

The pure disbelief on Ingrid’s face felt like a bullet through the heart. The Norwegian always came across as so confident, so sure of herself. This façade tricked the whole world into thinking she believed it, and it had tricked the two of you too. This realization stunned you into silence, briefly, a silence that Ingrid frantically tried to fill. 

“No, no, you’re both hurt. I need to take care of you, I need to make sure you both are okay. Let me up, please, María, I need to get her some ice for her head.” Ingrid sniffled, fighting the tight embrace Mapi’s arms had her in. The Spaniard shook her head firmly, but looked at you with concern. 

“Love, I’m okay, I promise you.” You implored. 

“You need me.” Ingrid repeated brokenly. 

Slowly, you nodded, eyes searching her pained expression. “I do need you. I always need you. You need us too, though. Can you let us take care of you?” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she began, only growing more teary eyed when Mapi cut her off. 

“Stop, amor, stop lying. You said earlier you feel the most stressed you have ever felt in your life. Forgot about my knee for a minute, forget about her head. We are okay, but we need you to be okay too. It’s okay for you to need us.”  

Ingrid shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t need you.”

“Why not, princesa?” Mapi asked, in a soft tone of voice she reserved for you and Ingrid. Her gaze was beyond gentle as she regarded the Norwegian women, one tattooed hand cradling a freckled cheek.

 “I can’t need you because you both deserve so much better than me, I don’t deserve to be loved by you.” she said quietly, rushing the words out as if they’d been swirling around in her head for some time. She missed the anger that flashed across Mapi’s face, but you didn’t. You felt the same way, honestly. You wanted to seek out whatever had made her feel like this, but you had a feeling that the trail would just lead you back to her. Perfect, beautiful, kind Ingrid. You couldn’t shout the insecure part of her away, it wouldn’t work. So, you rested a hand on Mapi’s shoulder to calm her, but it seemed that she had reached the same conclusion that you had.

“Mi princesa,” she whispered roughly. “I could spend 100 lifetimes loving you and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not care what you think I deserve. I love you. I want you. You do not need to earn my love, mi princesa. You have it. Always. For the rest of your life, for the rest of time. You just have it.” 

Ingrid pushed her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt, her tears quietly soaking into the soft fabric. She looked so unlike herself, all broken and small. She clearly craved the reassurance, but was terrified to accept it. 

You swallowed thickly, running your hand through her thick hair in an effort to get her to look at you. She didn't look up, but you spoke anyway. “Ingrid, where is this coming from? Did we do something to make you feel like this?” 

Her voice was muffled but still audibly distraught when she replied. “No, I know you love me. I know you want me. I just… I don't always understand why. All I can see are my flaws, all the things I do wrong, and I hate myself for them. If I let you take care of me… you’ll see them too.” 

It was so absurd, you wanted to laugh. You didn’t, though. You just took a deep breath, thinking that the agonized expression on Mapi’s face probably matched yours right now.

 “Ingrid… I don’t know what flaws you see in yourself. You are as close to perfection as I have ever seen a person get.” You rolled your eyes at Mapi’s slight pout at your statement. “Anything you consider to be a flaw… it's miniscule in the scale of how much we love you. We want you to need us. You don’t need to be completely put together all the time. You don’t need to suffer by yourself just because you deem your stressors insignificant in comparison to ours.”

“Amor, you can always lean on us. Even if my knee is fucked. I don’t need two working legs to take care of you. There is no flaw, nothing in the world that you could do that would make us not want you. That would make us see you any differently than we do now. You are ours. That will never change, mi amor, never.” 

You were startled to see tears welling in Mapi’s eyes, but you understood. It was painful to see someone you loved so much feel so awful, and keep it from you. It was painful to realize you’d missed something because you were too wrapped up in yourself to pay enough attention and realize what was going on sooner. 

“We have to do better, sí? It is not enough to tell you that we love you. We have to remind you of why, and we will, mi princesa, I promise you We will.” Mapi whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and holding a quiet promise, one that was clear to Ingrid. And really, if anyone could fix this horrible way of thinking she knew she shouldn’t engage in, it would be the two of you. 

“Tomorrow is Ingrid day.” You declared. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ll spend the whole day telling you what we love about you, if that’s what it takes.” 

Ingrid let out a choked laugh, allowing Mapi to gently wipe her tears off her face. “I just want to stay here. And lay with you both. Can we do that?” She asked shyly. 

“Of course we can.” María smiled. “Whatever you want, princesa, I mean it.” 

Ingrid turned her attention to you, allowing some worry to creep back into her gaze. “I want you to rest tomorrow, too.” 

“I will, if that makes you happy.” You promised, smiling softly at her, a smile she returned. 

“You both are perfect.” She said, looking between the two of you like she couldn’t quite believe her luck. 

“Then you are perfect, too. Beautiful.” Mapi leaned up to press a kiss to Ingrid’s lips, murmuring each word in between kisses. “Kind. Hardworking. Perfect, amor. So perfect.” 

You were glad to see the blush on Ingrid’s cheeks, knowing that it meant you’d both gotten through to her, at least a little bit. The Norwegian settled her face into Mapi’s neck, her hand reaching out to twist into your shirt and pull you closer. You fit in next to them so easily. You always would, and so would they. Because maybe you weren’t all actually perfect. You were, however, perfect for each other. 

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this was physically painful to write for no reason and it's short but the words were not flowing. it's done now though and i hope you all like :)