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[beststacksmusclebuilding]

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[pucksandpower]

Hip Thrusts

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: watching your boyfriend train gives you ideas about other things (or people) his hips could be doing … like you

Warnings: 18+ content

You take a deep breath as you push open the door to the gym. The smell of rubber mats and metal weights fills your nose.

It’s early — the sun is just starting to peek through the windows — and the gym is mostly empty, except for a few dedicated early morning regulars on the cardio machines.

Across the room, you spot Oscar on the weight floor. He’s doing barbell hip thrusts, clanging the weights up and down with each rep. His trainer Kim stands over him, stopwatch in hand, counting out the seconds between sets.

You take a moment just to watch Oscar train. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his muscles flexing and contracting with each thrust. He’s wearing those tiny Nike running shorts you bought him last month, the ones that show off his sculpted quads and glutes.

You can’t help but stare a little bit. Okay, a lot. Your boyfriend’s butt looks amazing.

“57… 58 … 59 ...” Kim counts. “Good, take 30 seconds.”

Oscar racks the barbell and sits up, grabbing his water bottle. His eyes catch yours across the room and his face lights up in a smile.

“Hey babe!” He calls out, waving you over.

You weave your way past the ellipticals and weight machines until you’re standing next to him.

“Hey yourself,” you lean down to give him a quick peck. “You’re looking strong this morning.”

“Just trying to get some strength training in before Kim puts me through the ringer later,” Oscar says. “We’ve got the season starting up so I really need to be on my game.”

He takes a long swig from his water bottle as Kim jots down notes on his clipboard.

“So what brings you to the gym so early?” Oscar asks. “I didn’t think 6 am workouts were your thing.”

You shrug. “I was up early and thought maybe we could do breakfast after you’re done?”

“Sounds good to me,” Oscar nods.

Kim clears his throat. "30 seconds are up, time to go again.”

“Duty calls,” Oscar says, getting back into position on the bench.

You step back to give him space, but stay close to chat. Oscar grips the barbell and hoists it up into position over his hips. You glance at the plates stacked on either end, doing some quick math in your head.

“Seems like that’s heavier than last time I dropped by,” you can’t help but comment.

“Sure is,” Kim says proudly before Oscar can respond. “We increased the weight since last week. Gotta keep increasing the load to build muscle.”

You stare at the barbell plates again. Exactly your body weight. Which means ...

Oscar is doing hip thrusts with the equivalent of you lying on top of him.

A little flutter goes through your stomach at the thought. You try to push it aside though. Obviously he isn’t thinking of it that way, it’s just part of his training regimen that Kim has him on. Still, you can’t help but visualize it for a moment.

“Alright, here we go,” Kim says. “Three sets of twenty reps, and … go!”

Oscar begins thrusting the barbell up in controlled motions, breathing out with each lift. You try not to stare, but your eyes keep flicking back to the movement of his hips. There’s something about watching your boyfriend’s pelvis go up and down right in front of you that’s making it hard to look away.

After twenty reps Oscar racks the barbell again. His chest is heaving a little from the exertion.

“Nice work,” Kim says. “How’d that feel?”

“Good,” Oscar says between breaths. “Definitely feeling the burn.”

He catches your eye and must notice you blushing because he adds with a wink, “Enjoying the show, babe?”

You feel your cheeks flush even more. “What? No! I mean, yes? I just … never mind ...” you stammer.

Oscar grins knowingly and takes another sip of water.

Over the next two sets, you try your best not to gawk. You remind yourself that this is serious training. Oscar is an athlete and you need to be respectful.

But still … when he’s finished his final set and Kim tells him to take a longer rest, you can’t help yourself.

“So, the weight you’re thrusting, huh?” You say, trying to sound casual. “That’s kind of a coincidence ...”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asks.

You glance at Kim, who is occupied on his phone. In a lower voice you say, “Well, it’s exactly what I weigh.”

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t even realize.” A sly grin crosses his face. “Hey, you’re totally right.”

You take a step closer to him, emboldened. “So basically you’re doing hip thrusts with me on top of you.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “When you put it that way ...”

“I have to admit the thought crossed my mind while I was watching you,” you say. You run a hand slowly up his arm. “I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar swallows hard, his eyes darkening. “Yeah?” He asks quietly.

You nod, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

He reaches out and takes your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your skin. “Well I can promise you, the real thing is a hundred times better than any training exercise.”

You lace your fingers through his, reveling in his touch. “Why don’t you remind me later?” You ask boldly.

Oscar leans in, his breath hot on your ear. “It would be my pleasure.”

A little shiver runs down your spine at the promise in his words. You want to kiss him right here in the middle of the gym, but Kim finally looks up from his phone.

“Alright, time’s up! Let’s keep moving.”

Oscar gives you a sheepish look as he releases your hand. “Duty calls once again. But rain check for later?”

“Absolutely.” You wink and take a step back so he can get into position for his next set.

You try to pay more attention to his form as he does the next round of hip thrusts. But this time, your mind keeps wandering to what those hips could do under different circumstances. Judging by the smoldering looks Oscar keeps shooting your way between sets, you’re pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing.

By the last set, there’s an obvious tension and heat between you. Oscar holds your gaze as he finishes the final reps, his hips rising and falling rhythmically. You bite your lip, no longer even trying to hide your desire. You want him, and you want him now.

Finally Kim calls time and tells Oscar to start his cool down stretches. As he reaches for his toes, back arched, you sidle up behind him.

“I think you need to stretch out some other muscles too,” you murmur in his ear. “I’d be happy to assist with that later.”

Oscar straightens up with a groan. “You’re killing me here, babe. As soon as we get home ...”

You grin up at him innocently. “Yes?”

He kisses you heatedly, not caring that Kim is still packing up his things nearby. “Why don’t you head out and get breakfast started for us?” He suggests. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You bite your lip as you back away slowly. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

You toss one last flirty wave over your shoulder as you leave the gym, heart racing. You have a feeling breakfast might be the last thing on both of your minds when Oscar gets home. But you love teasing each other like this — it always makes your time together even hotter.

As you drive home, you can’t stop replaying those images of Oscar doing hip thrusts in your mind. Maybe you should start joining those early morning workouts more often …

***

You can barely concentrate as you drive back home. You and Oscar have always had an adventurous and flirtatious relationship, but that encounter at the gym took things to a whole new level.

When you get home, you quickly tidy up the bedroom and kitchen to get things ready for when Oscar arrives. You take a fast shower, letting the hot water relax your excited nerves.

Slipping into a silky robe, you head to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. You chop fruit, arrange multigrain toast and toppings on a platter, and squeeze fresh orange juice, trying to make everything look as appetizing as possible. Not that food is really on your mind right now, but you want to set the scene perfectly.

Just as you’re pouring two cups of coffee, you hear the front door open. Oscar calls out your name, his voice sending a thrill through your whole body.

“In here!” You call back, straining to keep your tone neutral even as your pulse quickens.

Oscar strides into the kitchen and pauses, eyes sweeping over you hungrily as he takes in the robe and the breakfast you’ve laid out.

“This looks amazing, babe,” he says appreciatively. He comes over and kisses you tenderly. “Thank you for doing all this.”

You smile up at him, arms encircling his neck. “Least I could do after that little show you put on for me. Now come sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

You both take a seat at the kitchen island, filling your plates with fruit, pastries and eggs. The domesticity of sharing a meal together contrasts wildly with the tension still charging the air between you.

Oscar asks about your morning as you eat, keeping the conversation light. But his foot slowly trails up your calf under the table, making your breath hitch. You tell him about your plans to meet up with some friends later in the week. His hand finds your knee, fingers lightly grazing your bare skin. You ask him how training is going, trying to keep your voice even as your whole body tingles.

By the time you’ve both cleaned your plates, you’re squirming in your seat, heart pounding with anticipation. The second Oscar pushes his plate away, you surge forward to kiss him hungrily. All pretense of small talk is dropped — you want him now.

Oscar responds immediately, his strong arms pulling you tight against him as he kisses you deeply. You run your hands over the hard muscles of his chest and arms, feeling them flex and relax under your touch.

“Take me to bed,” you whisper in his ear.

In one smooth motion, Oscar stands and lifts you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you effortlessly to the bedroom and lays you down on the bed, his athletic body hovering tantalizingly over yours.

You run your hands up under his shirt, feeling the ripple of abs and obliques. Oscar lets you pull it up over his head before capturing your mouth again, kissing you ravenously.

“Need to feel you,” he groans, hands fumbling to untie your robe. He pushes the silk aside reverently, eyes roaming over your exposed body with undisguised longing.

You arch up into him, gasping as your overheated skin meets his. Oscar kisses down your neck to your collarbone, hands gliding up your ribcage to caress your breasts. You moan his name, back bowing off the bed at the sensation.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, lips continuing their descent. “I’ve been thinking about this all morning.”

You smile, combing your fingers through his hair. “Well then stop thinking and start doing.”

Oscar laughs, his warm breath fanning over your stomach. “Yes ma’am.”

He kisses lower, fingers trailing down your thighs to nudge them apart. You let your legs fall open with a pleasured sigh, back arching in anticipation.

Oscar starts slow, kissing and licking with delicate flicks of his tongue that have you squirming for more. He grips your hips, holding you still as he finally puts his mouth on you fully.

You cry out as he brings you right to the edge, only to pause and ease up again, keeping you balancing at the precipice.

“Oscar,” you moan urgently.

He smiles against you, knowing exactly what he’s doing to your body. When he finally takes pity on you, the climax rockets through you powerfully, leaving you trembling and breathless.

You pull Oscar up to meet your lips again, tasting yourself on him. “Your turn,” you whisper.

He groans as you quickly flip him onto his back and kiss your way down his taut body. You pull off his shorts torturously slowly, trailing your tongue along his hip crease in a way you know drives him wild.

Finally you take him into your mouth, noting how he’s already hard and straining for you. You smile around him, working him with your lips and tongue until his hips are bucking uncontrollably.

“I need you. I need to be inside you,” Oscar gasps, stilling you.

You release him reluctantly and crawl back up his muscular frame to kiss him hungrily. Oscar grips your hips and then you’re sinking down onto him, crying out at the delicious fullness.

You move together urgently, the restrained desire from earlier in the gym bubbling over as your bodies join again and again. Oscar’s fingers dig into the curves of your hips as he guides you up and down. You brace your hands on his sculpted chest, grinding your hips in little circles that make you both moan.

The pleasure builds rapidly, urged on by the intoxicating intimacy of your entwined bodies. Oscar’s thumb finds your most sensitive spot and starts stroking in time with your movements. The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge again. Your climax seems to trigger Oscar’s own release. He throws his head back with a ragged groan as he finds his peak deep inside you.

You stay wrapped together as you both catch your breath, hearts pounding against each other’s chests. Oscar strokes your hair back from your face and pulls you in for a lazy kiss, full of satiation.

“Wow,” you sigh, still trembling with aftershocks. “This morning just keeps getting better and better.”

Oscar grins and rolls you both onto your sides, keeping you tucked close. “I guess we have hip thrusts to thank for this extra workout.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Remind me to join your gym sessions more often.”

You lay entwined, trading soft kisses and simply enjoying the intimacy. The frantic passion from moments before simmers down into contented warmth.

Eventually Oscar nuzzles your hair. “As much as I want to stay like this all day, I should probably shower before practice.”

You pout playfully but let him slide out of your arms. He heads to the bathroom and you hear the water turn on a minute later.

Biting your lip, you get an idea. Oscar did say all day ...

You sneak into the steamy bathroom behind him. Through the frosted glass door you can see the outline of his muscular frame under the cascade of water.

Silently, you drop your robe and step into the shower behind him. Oscar turns under the stream, eyes lighting up as he sees you.

“Well hello there,” he grins. “Come here often?”

You press your naked body against his slick skin. “I missed you already.”

Oscar’s arms wrap around you as his lips find yours. “I think we have time for round two before I have to get ready for the afternoon,” he murmurs suggestively.

You smile and reach for the body wash, lathering up your hands. “Better get started then.”

Oscar groans appreciatively as your soapy hands glide over his shoulders and down his chest. You take your time relearning every hard ridge and valley of his athletic physique, paying special attention to the areas still sensitive from your earlier activities.

The combination of cascading water and roaming hands quickly has Oscar hard again. This time he lifts you, pressing your back against the cool tile wall as your legs lock around his hips.

You cry out in bliss at the new angle as he enters you. Oscar braces one hand on the wall and slips the other between you, resuming his earlier attentions. The dual sensation makes your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you gasp, raking your nails down his back.

Oscar increases his pace, thumb working you relentlessly as he snaps his hips. You feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it crests explosively, just as Oscar tenses and finds his own peak.

You cling together, slick and sated under the warm spray. Eventually Oscar carefully lowers your weakened legs back to the shower floor, keeping an arm around your waist to support you.

“Okay, now I really need to get ready to head out,” he chuckles.

You sigh contentedly. “Fine, but only if you promise more later.”

Oscar drops a kiss to your shoulder. “Oh I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you exit the shower on shaky legs, you exchange a grin. Looks like early morning workouts are going to become a permanent part of your routine from now on.

[anbuselvi1]

10 Best SARMs: Top SARM Supplements for Cutting, Bulking, & Strength

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[thef1diary]

Does ghost!max use plugs on reader? Or does he use himself to fill her up all the time? How does he punish her? Figging, spanks, edging, overstimulation👀👀👀👀

— why not a bit of everything 🤭 treading new territory here w figging but the thought isn’t leaving my mind. bear w me here cuz fuck that’s hot. 18+ content below

The punishment started slowly, deliberately, as Max preferred. A plug had been his opening move, filling you for days with no relief, teasing your body into a desperate need you couldn’t ignore. Each time you clenched around it, the emptiness beyond its unyielding length was a cruel reminder that this was all you would get. Not his hands. Not his cock. Just the plug, stretching you wide, leaving you wanting. He repaid you with the same amount of attention you’d given him for the past few days—nothing.

But when he finally decided you’d endured enough of that, he upped the stakes. He materialized beside you with a smirk and although he wasn’t fully visible—he never was—lately, you’d started to notice more of him. It was like a faint outline of his form, like shadows meeting mist.

He held a ginger root in his hand, peeled and roughly carved into the shape of a plug—larger than the one you had in you—the jagged, raw texture making your stomach twist.

“You’ve been ignoring me for days,” the spirit box crackled with his distorted voice as his invisible hands stroked your trembling thighs. “Now you’ll see what that gets you.”

You whimpered as he pulled the plug from your stretched hole, leaving you empty for only a moment before the ginger replaced it. The burn wasn’t immediate but once it hit, it was brutal, your muscles clenching and unclenching around the foreign intrusion. The heat spread like wildfire every time your hole tightened around it, making you cry out.

“Keep this in,” he commanded, his tone sharp as you squirmed, your legs trembling.

Your panties were pulled up snugly to hold the ginger in your ass, pressing it even deeper. The friction of the fabric made the burn worse, every tiny movement igniting sparks of unbearable heat deep inside you.

“I want you to feel it,” Max purred, his voice low and wicked. “Every single step you take, every chore you do, every moment you try to pretend you’re not dripping for me.”

He left you like that, the ginger stretching you, the fiery sensation building with every motion. You tried to focus on your tasks, but Max wasn’t going to let you get off that easy.

Invisible hands slid over your hips as you folded laundry, a cold, ghostly touch circling your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. The contrast of the icy fingers over and inside your cunt and the burning ginger in your ass made you whimper, your knees buckling as he teased you.

“You stop working, I stop playing,” the spirit box relayed his warning, his fingers pulling away as soon as you faltered.

You whined, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to continue, folding and stacking as best you could while his hands returned, teasing and tormenting you. He alternated between feather-light touches and deliberate thrusts, never enough to let you tip over the edge.

The minutes turned into what felt like hours, your body quivering with need, the ginger still lodged deep inside your ass, the burn mixing with the relentless ache of arousal.

When Max finally grew tired of your pitiful attempts at household tasks, he pushed you over his knee, holding you steady as you trembled.

“You thought you could ignore me?” his voice came through the device but you could almost feel his cold breath brushing against your ear. “You think I’ll let that slide?”

The first slap landed, sharp and stinging, making the ginger shift inside you. You cried out, the pain from his hand mingling with the unbearable heat inside you. Each strike made you clench around the ginger, the burn intensifying as he alternated between spanking you and twisting the root, pulling it halfway out only to shove it back in.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “A shaking, moaning mess, all because you thought you could ignore me.”

When he finally pulled the ginger out and tossed it aside, he circled your tight, puckering hole that had turned red and sensitive, making you squirm. You barely had time to recover before his fingers replaced the root. They slid inside your ass with ease, the cool touch a welcome contrast to the heat that lingered.

But Max wasn’t done. Using his other hand, his fingers curled inside your cunt, finding the spot that made you see stars, stroking it relentlessly. He brought you to the brink of orgasm by thrusting in and out of your ass and pussy simultaneously, only to stop just as you were about to tip over, leaving you sobbing and pleading.

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he hissed, dragging his cold fingers over your swollen clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body.

Again and again, he edged you, pulling you back from an orgasm each time, leaving you trembling and gasping, tears streaming down your face as you begged for release.

“Please, Max,” you sobbed, your voice broken. “Please, I’ll never ignore you again. Just—please.”

“Next time,” he whispered, the spirit box almost failing to pick up his voice. His cold lips brushed against your ear, “you’ll think twice before ignoring me.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[axeeglitter]

Melorius's shop: Fitting in

Felix adjusted his glasses and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face as he stepped into the costume shop, his slender frame almost swallowed by the oversized hoodie he always wore. Standing just a bit shorter than average, his narrow shoulders and slight build made him easy to overlook, especially with his soft, bookish features and perpetually messy hair. His hands were long and fine, fingers ink-stained from hours of note-taking, and his skin was pale from too many nights spent studying instead of seeing the sun. With his hunched posture and timid gait, Felix looked every bit the shy, kind-hearted geek who’d rather be reading about heroes than pretending to be one.

Felix opened the door of the old looking Costume’s shop; a bell rang as the door opened and its sound echoed between the dusty racks of costumes. Costumes crowded every corner, piled high in stacks and hung on hooks from the ceiling, casting odd, twisting shadows. He adjusted his glasses, blinking in the dusty light as he took it all in. The place seemed nearly forgotten, like it had been waiting for decades just for him.

"Excuse me?" he called out softly, his voice echoing a bit. "I'm looking for…um…a Spiderman costume, or really any superhero costume."

From behind a counter lined with old-fashioned masks, an elderly man emerged, smiling a bit too widely. His eyes glinted, as if he found Felix’s presence amusing. "Ah, superheroes. Everyone wants to be one," he mused, studying Felix with a strange intensity. "But I’m afraid you're a bit late, young man. All the superheroes are gone."

“Oh.” Felix sighed, glancing around as he tugged at his collar, feeling the cool, almost expectant air of the shop pressing in on him. "Do you have anything else? Something…kind of low-key? Anything cool will be perfect to be honest."

The man tilted his head thoughtfully, then reached under the counter. After a moment, he pulled out a different outfit, holding it up. It was a football quarterback uniform, complete with shoulder pads, a helmet, and a jersey bearing the number 11 in bold, almost intimidating font.

Felix felt his heart sink. "Uh… I’m not really the football type," he began, unsure how to say no.

But the man only smiled. "Halloween is a night for trying new things, isn’t it? You might find this… transformative." With a small wink, he pressed the costume into Felix’s hands, gesturing toward the dressing room in the back.

Reluctantly, Felix took it. The fabric felt strange under his fingers, thicker and heavier than he’d expected. With a last look at the old man, who was watching him with that same enigmatic smile, Felix ducked into the dressing room, closing the door behind him. He really didn’t want to try it on, specially because at college, he was bullied by the football team, especially Josh, one of the biggest douchebag earths has ever worn. He was everything Felix hated. Big, muscled piled on muscles, obnoxious, fucking everything he could find and worst of all, forcing his best friend Nathan to do his homework and terrifying the shit out of him.

Felix hesitated, looking at himself in the mirror. His slight frame, glasses, and messy hair were the epitome of what people at his college would call "nerdy." This costume was everything he wasn’t and everything he despised. But not wanting to appear rude, he slipped the jersey over his head, adjusting it as it clung uncomfortably close to his skin. Oddly, it felt warm, almost like it was… alive.

As he finsihed putting on the quaterback equipment and tugged the fabric of the jersey over his torso, a sharp, sudden pain blossomed across his chest. He gasped, clutching at his sides as a strange pressure spread through him. His chest muscles contracted and expanded, stretching outward with a force he couldn't control. The flat, narrow lines of his torso swelled as new muscle filled every inch, his chest pushing outward in thick slabs of pecs that strained against the jersey. With each breath, his pecs grew denser, pressing forward until they filled the front of the jersey, hard and defined.

“What…what is happening?” he whispered, trying to pull the jersey off, but his arms wouldn’t obey. He was frozen, forced to watch as the transformation moved to his shoulders and arms.

Pain surged through his shoulders as they broadened, the pads pressing down on him, molding his frame into something bigger, stronger. His deltoids pushed outward, rounding out, followed by his biceps, which bulged, straining the fabric with their new mass. Thick veins appeared along his forearms, pulsing with a warmth that was both exhilarating and terrifying. His hands changed too, the fingers thickening, becoming rough and calloused, palms broadening until they looked like they belonged to someone who’d spent years gripping footballs rather than comic books.

Each new jolt of growth felt like a small explosion, his nerves alive with the prickling of muscle fiber expanding and hardening beneath his skin. His legs cramped next, a powerful spasm that had him doubling over as his thighs and calves swelled. Muscles he’d never known he had bulged out, pressing against the fabric until the pants were stretched taut over thick quads and hamstrings that filled out with each second. He staggered, watching his thighs widen, hard and massive, his calves now like solid trunks that seemed rooted to the floor.

Felix started to feel an odd sensation creeping under his soles. Suddenly, he felt like they began to burn as they expanded within the cleats he had just put on. His toes thickened, his arches lifted, his entire foot stretching and swelling until they filled the once-loose cleats perfectly, now large and sturdy, every step grounding him with an unfamiliar weight.

The changes weren’t just physical. A strange heat built up within him, simmering in his core, moving down to his groin with an intensity he couldn’t ignore. He tried to fight it, his mind screaming for control, but his body surged ahead. His hips rolled slightly as his groin responded, thickening, growing, his manhood pressing uncomfortably against the waistband of his pants. He felt his shaft pulse and throb as it swelled, growing heavier, bigger, until it strained against the fabric, every inch filling him with an unsettling mix of power and shame. It was relentless, each throb amplifying the sensation, his groin now packed with a weight and presence that was almost dizzying. Even his balls grew, swelling until they hung heavily between his legs, pressing against his thighs, a constant reminder of the physicality that had taken over him.

As he looked down, horrified, he saw that his pubic area was now covered in a thick, wiry thatch of dark hair. Felix couldn’t even the skin under the hair anymore. Pure dark thick hair. It itched slightly, but there was no escaping the primal, raw feeling it gave him. His hands, now large and rough, instinctively went to adjust his groin, but he couldn’t control the action, it was like his body was reveling in its own size, flexing, posing.

His reflection sneered back at him, a cocky grin that made his skin crawl. His face had sharpened, his jawline strong and angular, his cheekbones high and defined. His eyes, once soft and shy, had become piercing, almost predatory. His hair had changed too, dark and thick, styled perfectly as though he’d just stepped out of a salon.

“Oh no… no, no, no…” he whispered, his voice deeper, resonant, filled with a confidence he didn’t feel. He tried to speak again, but it was like his voice had been absorbed, lost within the powerful timbre that echoed back at him.

Inside his mind, a voice spoke, smooth and arrogant, brimming with strength. “Looks like you’re ready to play, bro.”

“No! I’m not…I’m not…” he tried to say, but his own body laughed, a rich, self-assured chuckle that came from deep in his chest. It was like he was locked in a cage, forced to watch as his new form flexed and stretched, testing the limits of his newly thickened muscles. His hands slid over his chest, his abs, tracing the hard ridges of his pecs and torso in a way that horrified him. Every touch was a betrayal, each inch of him celebrating its own strength and virility.

And then, with a horrible clarity, he realized his surroundings had changed. The dusty walls of the dressing room had faded, replaced by the familiar, well-worn space of a college bedroom. Posters lined the walls, a football on the desk, the scent of cologne mingling with the faint smell of beer, feet and cum. His heart pounded as he saw the reflection of the street in the mirror in front of the bed. He knew this street, but from where? His body kept on flexing his biceps and posing while adjusting his python in his jeans. Suddenly Felix recognizes it, it was Josh’s Fraternity house. “God please, NOOOOOO…” he screamed internally as his body groped once again his thick semi hard dick pressed against his thighs.

The door burst open, and Josh strode in, grinning widely as he clapped him on the back. “Yo, Mike! You ready to tear it up tonight? Halloween bash is going to be insane! Get ready and come downstairs bro’ ”

Inside, Felix’s true self screamed, but his new body only laughed, a confident sound that filled the room. He could feel everything, trapped as a spectator within his own body, unable to stop the deep, casual flex of his muscles, the cocky grin that spread across his face.

Felix swaggered out of the bedroom, every muscle loose and relaxed as he automatically headed downstairs. He barely noticed the lingering shift in his walk, the easy confidence that had replaced his usual awkward, careful steps. He knew, in some distant part of himself, that this wasn’t him. But the name "Mike" echoed back each time he tried to remember his real name.

The first person he saw downstairs was Josh, grinning as he slammed a hand down on Felix’s shoulder with a rough camaraderie that would have once made Felix cringe. Josh, the biggest, brashest jock on campus, was someone he’d always tried to avoid. Now, though, he found himself smiling back, his thoughts warming with a strange fondness he couldn’t quite understand. Josh chuckled, punching him lightly in the arm. “Ready to get this party started, bro?”

The response came instinctively. "Always, man!" His voice sounded rich and easy, filled with that same underlying confidence, and Felix felt a surge of warmth in his chest. It felt… right, somehow, and as they worked together with the others, hanging lights and arranging tables, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of fitting in, of belonging here in a way he never had before.

Then the doorbell rang, and Mike headed to answer it, his steps naturally assured, shoulders relaxed. When he opened the door, he froze for a second. Standing there was Nathan, his best friend, the same familiar face and shy smile he’d grown up with. His friend’s arms were full of papers, Josh’s homework, he realized with a strange clarity.

“Hey, uh, I’ve got the assignments Josh asked for,” Nathan said, looking slightly uncomfortable as he handed the papers over. Mike reached out to take them, a small pang of something strange flickering in his mind as he looked at his friend’s familiar, nervous expression. Felix woke up from his mental fog and remembered who he truly was. He was not Mike; he was Felix and Nathan was his best friend. How long did he forget, how is that possible to forget who you are? Inside his head, Felix was panicking and trying to scream and beg for help to Nathan, but on the outside, Mike just grabbed the paper and put on a cocky grin as he realizes how thick Nathan’s ass was.

“Thanks, man,” Mike replied automatically, the words feeling strange in his deeper, confident voice. Josh took the papers with barely a nod, heading back toward the party, and Mike found himself lingering, watching Nathan’s body with a hungry look. Out of nowhere, Mike started to talk kindly to Nathan and to Felix’s surprise, Nathan answered back, worst he recognized in his best friend a feeling of joy as they kept talking together about every and anything.

They chatted for a few minutes, the small talk flowing in a way that felt oddly natural. Felix was screaming for this to stop. Maybe if he screamed loud enough, he will be able to grab dominance over this new Mike’s mind and be able to ask for help. But it didn’t work. Worst, he screamed in panic as he heard himself asking Nathan to come outside to grab a drink. They both went to his bedroom upstairs and just before closing the door, Mike threw a knowing look and a cocky grin to Josh, both of them smiling as they knew Mike was getting lucky.  

Once they were there, Mike listened to his friend talk, nodding as they laughed over stories that seemed almost familiar, yet distant. He felt himself leaning in without even realizing it, his heart pounding a bit harder, his thoughts becoming hazy. There was a moment, a single spark that made everything feel suddenly real, and then just as Nathan was saying that he should go back home to get ready for his Halloween Dungeon and Dragons party, Felix felt his body plunging on Nathan’s lips. He felt the surprise of Nathan fading into acceptance as he gave back his kiss. After some minutes of kissing and touching each other, Mike jumped back up and threw his clothes away, standing erect with his 11 inches dick in front of Nathan. He then started to walk slowly back to Nathan while grinning and talking again. “So tell me Bae’, Trick or treat?” Felix was disgusted by what was happening, how could this happen. He wasn’t even gay, and Nathan was his best friend. No that couldn’t be, it must be a nightmare. But out of nowhere, Felix felt wet lips around his thick cock. The sensation sent shivers down his spine and Mike grabbed Nathan’s head under his calloused palms as he forced it all the way down to his pubes. Felix was torn apart between the pleasure was feeling and the pain of knowing his best friend was giving him a blowjob. Then he felt a rush coming down on him. He felt as his toes started to grip the carpeted floor, his muscles started to tense and his breath became chaotic. “No please, I can’t…” Felix tried to say in a last moment of consciousness as Mike started to spasm and cum straight inside Nathan’s throat, making sure he swallowed every drop of his precious cum. His mind went blank, a flood of warmth washing over him, leaving nothing behind. For a split second, he reached for something he couldn’t name, something lost in a flood of heat and release. Then everything was clear. He was Mike. When he opened his eyes after a couple of pleasurable seconds, Felix was gone. Only Mike stood there. With a satisfied sigh, Mike got his dick out, feeling the lingering warmth radiate through his body, calming his heartbeat. He pulled back on his gym shorts, adjusting his jockstrap, and shot a quick glance in the mirror. As Mike opened the door, he took a look down at Nathan still baked in the pleasure they both just had. “So, do you want to go for a drink tomorrow?” Nathan asked with kindness in his eyes. Mike turned back and laughed before answering “Yo bro’ get the fuck out before I call the broskis to finish you up. You really thought this could be a we? You are a whole for me to fuck and nothing else. Now get the fuck out looser!”

Mike turned back to the mirror and adjusted his cap backward. Perfect, as always. Heading downstairs without another thought, he was ready to enjoy the party, the memory of whatever he’d been worrying about entirely gone.

______________________________________________________________

Hey everybody! Here is the new chapter inspired by this prompt from @yuighjvbn123 "Well, I hope you continue the melorious shop, especially making the sequel for the First Customer story. I really want to see the other perspective, now this time for a shy clumsy nerd who got transformed into a muscular handsome sexy jock. Bit then his demeanor also changed, into more cocky self-obsessed narcissist diva and the usual horny lol. I know it's a basic standard tf plot, but I know you'll find a way to spice things up and make it even hotter"

Hope you guys enjoyed it and see you soon for another adventure ;)

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[rottenpumpkin13]

A list of miscellaneous AGS + ZC fluff and shenanigans to cheer up whoever needs it

Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth completing coloring books while drinking wine on Genesis' kitchen floor, probably gossiping, bonus points if Genesis has a face mask and Sephiroth's nails are painted black.

A photo from the time Angeal accused Zack and Cloud of being attached at the hip, so they decided to prove him right by literally tying themselves together. The two of them went around like that, laughing and stumbling over each other as they tried to go about their day.

The time Zack and Cloud tried a hot sauce and completely lost it. Zack's head was buried in the fridge while Cloud chugged an entire carton of milk.

In Angeal's kitchen, Zack and Genesis bickering over who deserves the last slice of cheesecake while Sephiroth slips it without them noticing.

A photo of Sephiroth wearing one of Genesis' hoodies—unbeknownst to him it has little cat ears on the hood.

A photo of Cloud falling asleep on the couch during movie night, his head leaning on Zack's shoulder, who doesn't dare move a muscle.

Genesis has the habit of sprawling across his friends; laps, slumping over their shoulders, leaning against them. When they casually return the gesture—Angeal's arm over his shoulders, Sephiroth resting his head on him—Genesis is pleased.

Angeal and Sephiroth attempting to build a bookshelf without the instructions because "we know what we're doing" even though Genesis warned them. Hours later, they end up with a table.

Angeal making terrible dad jokes, with Sephiroth laughing hard at every single one. Genesis quotes poetry regularly, and Sephiroth does his best to guess its source—it's their little game.

A photo of Zack lifting Cloud Lion King style so he can reach the top shelf in the kitchen.

A photo of Sephiroth, wearing glittery silver eyeshadow after letting Genesis try out a palette on him, quietly sipping a juice box while watching Genesis work on Zack's eyes (by request).

Sephiroth and Genesis know how difficult Angeal's childhood was, so whenever they eat together, they make a point of scraping their plates clean. Zack does it too, even once trying to eat a corn cob whole just to impress Angeal.

Zack drags everyone to a midnight ramen shop, and Sephiroth, exhausted, falls asleep on the table—and then conveniently wakes up the moment the ramen is served. As Genesis put it, it was like watching a computer boot up.

The hide and seek game Zack organized. Sephiroth found Genesis. Genesis claimed he "wasn't even playing." Genesis was underneath a desk.

Security camera footage of Zack and Cloud commandeering a table from Angeal's apartment for a blanket fort. You'd assume someone would intervene, but a minute later, the camera catches Sephiroth walking out with a stack of blankets.

Sephiroth has sound sensitivity, so Angeal discreetly covers his ears in loud crowds. He does the same for Genesis, who is prone to headaches and always carries medicine with him.

A photo Genesis took of Angeal casually going around with Zack strapped to his back in a baby sling.

The time Sephiroth attempted to teach Angeal meditation techniques to soothe his anxiety, only for Genesis to walk in, start yelling and complaining about the line at the coffee shop, while handing them caffeinated drinks that would only spike their anxiety.

When Angeal instinctively grabs Sephiroth and Genesis' hands to cross the street, they complained at first, but now they reach for his arms without hesitation.

When Angeal arranged a "wellness circle" to help everyone "destress," it quickly devolved into a heated debate and accusations over who keeps throwing wet balls of toilet paper on the ceiling in the men's room. No seriously. Angeal tried to squash it by having everyone write the names of the culprits on slips of paper and put them in a bowl. Every single name that came up was some variation of Zack, Genesis, and one Sephiroth.

A photo of when Angeal organized a game of "capture the flag" at SOLDIER, with the flag being red. The photo shows Sephiroth holding Genesis on his hip as he and Angeal argue, because in Sephiroth's logic, Genesis could be the flag.

Zack trying to explain social media slang to Sephiroth, who refuses to use "tight" to say something is cool. Genesis then tries teaching him to use "cunt" as an alternative and Sephiroth damn near clutches his pearls.

A photo of Zack and Cloud arm-wrestling in the cafeteria, both grunting and struggling while in the background Sephiroth and Genesis are experimenting by adding maple syrup over pasta.

A photo Angeal took in his kitchen—Genesis braiding Sephiroth's hair while he eats a bowl of cereal.

Zack casually mentioning he’d never had Banora White pie, and Genesis immediately dropping everything, dragging him off base and up to his apartment to make an apple pie from scratch.

A photo of Sephiroth having a laughing fit on a mission, rosy-cheeked and grinning because, while crossing a river, a fish jumped out and slapped Angeal in the face.

Angeal burrowing into Genesis, pulling him close and squishing him after a bad day, pressing kisses to his forehead.

Genesis and Sephiroth high-fiving each other, missing, and slapping each other in the face. Angeal making them get eye exams afterward.

Genesis trying to part an apple into five perfect slices for Angeal, Sephiroth, Cloud, Zack, and himself. They all insist it's fine and that he doesn't need to bother, but Genesis insists, because so long as there is breath in his body those apples will be shared.

A photo of Sephiroth trying a really sour candy, unable to mask his discomfort, his tongue sticking out in an exaggerated grimace.

A photo Sephiroth took of Angeal casually browsing the cereal aisle, holding a box of granola in one hand while Zack and Cloud sit inside the shopping cart trading SOLDIER cards.

If you're wondering how they both fit, please note Zack has a bag of rice in his lap and Cloud is surrounded by frozen items.

On the same trip, Genesis insisted Sephiroth get inside a cart and started pushing him around, laughing as they did so. They almost got kicked out when Genesis knocked over an apple display.

A photo of Sephiroth crouched down in a dimly lit alleyway in the slums, gently petting a stray cat that's seeking shelter from the rain.

On the same outing, Genesis is sitting cross-legged on the wet ground, reading aloud from one of his books to the same stray cat. The cat is clearly enjoying the sound of his voice and curls up next to him, purring softly

Group hugs where Angeal manages to wrap his arms around all of them at once.

A candid photo Sephiroth took of Angeal effortlessly hoisting Genesis over his shoulder, carrying him while Genesis flails dramatically, half-laughing, half-protesting.

Wearing each others clothes randomly (Zack and Cloud do it so often they basically share a closet). Sephiroth wearing Angeal's hoodies, Genesis preferring Sephiroth's pajamas, Zack wearing Cloud's jacket, Cloud wearing all of Zack's tees.

A photo, probably taken by Lazard, that captures Genesis reading aloud to the group. They're draped around him like cats in a pile of limbs. Sephiroth is half-draped over Genesis' lap, Angeal's head rests on Genesis' shoulder, Zack is sprawled on the floor but his head is on Genesis' other leg while he cuddles Cloud.

Sephiroth going to Genesis for help and advice, Genesis being sweet and genuine and listening, fully prepared to solve the problem for Sephiroth himself.

Genesis using Angeal as a pillow and Sephiroth as a blanket; a regular occurrence.

[tobiotetsu]

the beast’s beauty

fushiguro toji x f!reader

description: because of your father's mistake, the infamous toji zenin forced you into imprisonment in order to pay his debt. however, what you never expected was to fall in love with the monster he was.

genre: angst, historical au, 18+, mini series

warnings/tags: explicit smut(vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, ) violence, mentions of stockholm syndrome & misogyny, blackmail, character injury, blood, profanity, mdni, grammar mistakes

a/n: to welcome our fav dilf to the jjk screen, here's a little beauty and the best retelling for toji:) reblogs are truly appreciated <3 (taglist: open) (wc:1k)

general masterlist

part one ♕ part two ♕ part three ♕ part four ♕ part five

You never enjoyed the company your father kept. Drunks, assassins, mobsters, gamblers. You would always find yourself pulling him out of taverns in the early hours of 2 to 4 am. Usually, fear would course through women’s veins if they had to enter an establishment of this kind however, that wasn't your case. You were predisposed to bars, and whore houses since you were 10.

Now here, age 22 as you make your way through the liveliest bar in town. The air stank of beer and fresh cigarettes; a smell that you've grown more than used to. Your upbringing was merited to being the only daughter of a single father. Your mother died in childbirth and your father never chose to remarry. When you were younger you thought of it as romantic, but as time went on you saw it for what it really was.

He gained a free pass to hoard whores. Your house doors welcomed a new woman every week. The most motherly advice you gained was how to seduce a man and how to keep your tits perky.

The bar was more full than it usually was. Sweaty bodies stood, all facing the same direction. A poker game was at play. By the looks of the chips stacked in the center, it looked rather intense. Your feet began to move faster as a small anxious feeling nipped at your stomach. Shoving arms and legs, you squeeze into the front of the table.

Two men were sitting at opposite ends of the table. The left side of the table was far more crowded than the right. Women were draped over the man who was seated. A hand covered the majority of his face so all that was in view were his eyes. Dark green eyes shined brightly, even though the mess of dark hair was in front of it.

‘He looked focused’ you thought. He stared ahead, not giving any attention to the women around him. You could see why they were all interested in him. Physically, he was very attractive. His legs were spread out under the table, arms crossed and sat straight. His shirt fit on his body like a glove. His shoulders, chest, and even the muscles on his torso were visible through the cloth.

Before you could notice anything a familiar voice caught your attention. At the other end of the table, you see a familiar ratted navy coat. With a far lonelier crowd, your father was squinting at the four cards in his palm.

“All in” he shouted as he pushed all his chips closer to the dark-haired man.

“Dad!” you jumped to him, clasping your hand on his wrist. As you opened your mouth to protest, a deep voice intercepted.

“Sorry, cap.” was all the man said as he displayed his cards. The faces and noise around you felt dull. Muffled voices and blurry vision were all you had as you watched your father’s cards get trumped by a royal flush.

“How much money did you bet, Dad?” The urgency in your voice was a cover for the panic. He had no money. Whatever money he did earn at his sales job was put towards the tavern and prostitutes. Whatever was left was the sum you had earned at the library.

“Sweet pea, I-I messed up,” there was a shake in your father's voice. One that you had never heard before. “It wasn’t money. Gu- I need to get”

You couldn't understand the slurred speech your father spewed.

“Gu? What are you saying, Dad?” you held your father steady near the back entrance of the building.

“Guns” your body jumped at the sound of another voice joining your conversation. You spun around to be faced with familiar eyes. They look much darker at night. The only thing illuminating the scene was a candle hanging beside the door in between you two.

“He didn’t bet money. Your father owes me guns.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

He must be confused with someone else.

In an effort to clear your father's name you turn to him for reassurance, but all you are met with is disappointment.

“Mmm sorry. I sold the guns and I didn’t have anything else to give” Your father's voice fell flat.

“Dad, What are you talking about? Why do you have guns? What are you in?” your hands grasp his arms and shake his drunk body hoping to shake the truth out of him.”

“Your father works for my business. And he fucked up and sold my guns for bitch money.” the man said. His head tilted to the right, allowing for his face to be seen. The first thing you saw was a scar that ran through the right corner of his mouth. He was taller than you assumed he was. As he inched towards you his size grew.

“What do you want?” your voice dripped in fear.

“Well, your father here, he bet me something to act as a placeholder, till I get my guns.” he fished in his pockets as he spoke those chilling words. He retrieved a small syringe from his pocket.

Your worried eyes turned to your father but before you could protest, rough hands brushed your lips, pressing your mouth shut. You felt your skin break as a cool needle was stuck in your neck. Tears welled up in your eyes as your fear was confirmed.

You felt your own body turning into mush, your muscles stopped protesting the man's actions and started to skin into him. Your back hit his chest and your head rolled onto his shoulder. With what little power you had you flailed your limbs, but all of your efforts were met with failure.

You couldn't hear anymore, couldn't distinguish voices. Couldn't yell and scream at your father for pimping you like a whore to a beast. You didn't know whose voice it was but you were hoping their word was true, as those were the last words that you heard before you blacked out.

“I'll take care of you, I promise.”

[ jjk gen taglist: @meepmoop12w @thepsychicartist ]

[chinolondoner]

Author looking for readers

I'm not sure of the best way of getting people interested in the work of an unknown writer...

Plopped down in the middle of a tropical, Latin American setting, Lullaby for Bishop is set to be a hard-boiled detective series with four main characters: a veteran private investigator in the twilight of his career; a muscle-bound professional wrestler fulfilling one of his pivotal, childhood ambitions of solving strange and wild mysterious; as well as a pair of rumbunctious, teenage, high school girls constantly causing a scene and tagging along for the thrills.

You can preview the first half of chapter one further down below and catch up on the remainder, along with the totality of chapters two and three, all completely for free if you visit my Patreon. It's going to be a little while before this first book in the series is actually finished and officially published, but I feel the smarter move would be to try and elevate as much of a buzz for the featured world and characters before then as possible. I also plan to put out additional pre-release chapters in the near future (likely three at a time). If I have somehow managed not to bore you and you're still eagerly reading, then I do hope you enjoy the launching meta in this tender work in progress and stick around for future updates. Thank you for your interest!

---

Chapter One

Nervously, Donny Boy had begun rubbing his fingers on the back of his neck, seated patiently a narrow foot away from the front of the desk while waiting for our bastard detective to stumble back into his office, suddenly realizing that the price tag had not yet been plucked away or removed from the fanciful hat he was wearing and was still dangling off the rounded edge of the brim.

Looking around the room for a trash bin he could use, Donny Boy's eyes gradually panned across the office, taking note of a few of the usual mosquitoes left splattered on the frosted, scarlet-lettered glass on the door. Dizzying groves of zigzagged patterns tying in the décor on the wallpaper, he spotted an old, unused desk tucked-away in the far, opposite corner of the room, heavy with dust and weighed down by sprawling stacks of postcards and unrecycled newspapers.

His wandering eyes glancing up the rearing rays of shattered sunlight filling in through the narrow, broken blinds on the window, Donny Boy had noticed the row of fancy kettlebells neatly arranged across a flat and sturdy, iron bench scooted against the wall, a dirty, rolled-up yoga mat, along with this stationary, exercise bike for the purposes of one's daily, cardio workout.

Looking up at the rougher dust build up over the years along the edges of the blades on the ceiling fan, Donny Boy was suddenly lured back from his current distractions after Detective Howl Bishop slid back into his office, tossing a used washrag onto his desk after wiping his face and smelling of minty, nicotine gum and aftershave.

“So, what do I call you, kid?” Howl had asked while taking a seat in his chair behind his desk.

“Don should be perfect. Growing up, my next-door neighbor used to call me Donny Boy.”

“Donny Boy, huh?” Howl fought against his urges to fidget with a stack of papers in his drawer. “Sounds good to me, kid. So… are you some sort of circus performer or something?”

“I'm not sure I know what you mean…”

“Your arms… They're freaking huge!”

“Oh… Yeah… I do struggle at times finding clothes that can fit me properly. Also, I wasn't really sure whether or not I should've worn a suit jacket.”

“Yes…” Howl would peek over the top of his desk and study Donny Boy up and down, a salient tone of fascination in his voice. “You really are quite the physical specimen, aren't you?”

“I suppose I do enjoy a good workout,” Donny Boy replied, a little bit bashful.

“You do have a basic understanding of the type of job you're here applying for today, don't you?” Howl asked.

“I believe so… The ads in the newspaper said Experienced private investigator in search of young and capable partner…”

“That's right. And being a private eye, it's important to have a plethora of tools at your modest disposal. One of those tools being the ability to effortlessly mesh into your surroundings. It's important not to stand out too much when in a public crowd or when casually photographing somebody's license plate from across the road. At the moment, I'm having some doubts on that possibly being a strong suit of yours given your current… how should I say… physique.”

“Oh… Well, to be completely honest with you, Mr. Bishop, I haven't even paused to consider that as a possibility.”

“Yeah, well, thinking a few steps ahead is also an invaluable tool to have.”

With more than a quarter of a century of busy detective work under his belt, his hair having grown white as Winter's ashes and the once buoyant Spring in his footsteps having lost some of its feather throughout the years, Howl Bishop was originally from the lands of sunny, Southern California, born on a weekday in a rushed and overcrowded hospital in the blighted city of Los Angeles.

Brought up in a bohemian household, Howl's anxious mother was a failed, Hollywood actress turned “new-age” healer and father was a meddling screenwriter that had spent more of his time obsessing over the quality of the ink in his typewriter than ever inundating his children with any orderly grants of wisdom.

Standing at six-foot even in height, a strong, conquering jaw and with an even tan across his arms and facial features, Howl was one of the many foreign expats sailing over from the States in purge of more permanent roots in Pan de Leones. Old, brown, leather belt holding up his wide, beige-colored slacks, Howl always wore floral, Hawaiian shirts when in settled eye of the public, mixtures of white and pink and with a couple of loose buttons up toward the collar.

With his sharp, Anglo features and light attire, it was entirely common to mistake Howl Bishop for a possible tourist visiting Latin America for the first time, sightseeing across the country and falling for obvious scams at the nearby market. That is, of course, until one caught an initial glimpse of Howl's encyclopedic knowledge of the city's urban layout and sprawling geography, along with his ease of verbal fluency when communicating in Spanish, often conversating with local barkeeps and store merchants on objects ranging from the wise and esoteric to the lurched, mind-numbing, and trivial.

“I would like to procure a general gauge on how comfortable you might be interacting with the more unsavory avenues of human society,” Howl would lean back into his seat and ask, clamping his hands together and placing his palms over his stomach.

“Could you be more specific?”

“In such line of work, one all too often will find themselves having to calmly intermingle with unrested eyes of broken glass and scoundrels. Do you possess any real-world experience dealing with scum and the morally compromised?”

“Uhm…” Donny Boy appeared curtailed by Howl's question, unsure of how to respond. “I once dated a girl that refused to pay off her parking tickets,” he said.

Without managing to reply, Howl simply stared in confusion from his seat across the desk, reevaluating his initial impressions on the kid. Then, squinting his eyelids a little, he felt inclined to change the current subject and asked, “I don't mean to suddenly swerve off topic, but… have we met before?”

“What?”

“Well, I'm looking at your face, right now, and… I can't help but get the feeling that this isn't the first time that we've been in the same room. Do we know each other?”

“I do not believe we have ever met, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy was quick to point out in response, laughing out loud a little to himself while nervously shuffling around in his seat. “I've always done alright remembering faces and my mother had always told me it was rude to forget someone's name.”

“Hmm… I guess in my advanced age, my average perception of things has grown a bit muddy. I suppose I simply must be confusing you for somebody else.”

Wide, rugged shoulders, preposterous arms, and with a large, outward, and muscular chest, Donny Boy was young and handsome and had shaded, bronze-colored skin. His lightly brushed hair was a wild, sunflower-blonde of which he maintained in perfect tinge and kept the darker shadows of his roots regularly dyed. Along with the fancy, finely tailored fedora resting on his head, the crumpled price tag of which he had just recently stuffed into his pocket, Donny Boy wore a normal pair of rectangular, blue-framed eyeglasses, granting him a bit of a barbarous librarian kind of a look.

Dark eyebrows and with the small patch of facial hair on his chin routinely trimmed, Donny Boy had entered the office wearing a short-sleeved, white, button-up shirt, the generous, overfed muscles of his upper body appearing to want to tear through the clothing and with a clean pair of ruby-red suspenders attached to the waistline of his denim-blue slacks, tugged and strapped-up over his mountainous shoulders. He also had on a dorky, red bowtie for the occasion.

“How old are you, Donny Boy?”

“I'm twenty-eight years old, Mr. Bishop.”

“And what's your sleep schedule like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your sleep schedule. Have you developed the habit of going to bed around the same time, every night?”

“I believe so. I've never been one to indulge in any late-night festivities. Why do you ask?”

“Well, when living the demented life of a private eye, it's not uncommon to have to commit to some later hours on the unplanned occasion: car stakeouts after midnight; navigating the craze of urban nightlife on foot; purchasing some nefarious lawyer a hundred shots of overpriced vodka at the stripclub just for a few layers of common information. Do you drink coffee?”

“I've never been much of a coffee drinker, no.”

“Well, you definitely should be. Sugar highs and caffeine are going to be your most reliable friends on those late nights when you most need them. Either that or… well… you know…” Bringing his hand up to his face, Howl used his finger to tap the side of his nose.

“Oh, no way, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy immediately replied. “I wouldn't even think of touching that stuff. I've always had a firm stance against any illegal drug use.”

“That's good,” Howl said. “I've noted my fair share of innocent souls throughout my time wasting away from drug addiction. A found sense of longed-for excitement is what initially lures them in. And then, after enough restless days turn to night, enough sleepless nights turn to chaos, suddenly they look up and… the neon lights on the street don't seem as vibrant as they once used to…”

Donny Boy would look at Howl with a sort of strange sense of wonderment, our detective's eyes having slowly migrated across the room toward the window, perceiving what, to him, had appeared to be an expression of profound fatigue captured on his face.

The sound of the vehicle screeching to a halt could suddenly be heard outside on the street, trashcans tumbling over and followed by the angry voice of a young woman shouting profanities.

“Oh no…” Donny Boy muttered underneath his breath, his eyes suddenly wandering over toward the window.

“What about your relationships?” Howl asked. “Do you have a wife or girlfriend? One of the more unfortunate aspects of being a private investigator is the difficulty you might experience maintaining a healthy inner circle. This is often a critical detail that turns the most people away.”

Donny Boy was completely distracted and had failed to pick up a single word, a growing look of nervousness on his face.

“Donny Boy, are you listening?”

The frantic sound of sudden footsteps quickly marching up a flight of stairs could be heard just outside the door to the office, followed by the reactions from Howl's trusted secretary demanding an unknown grouping's identification and honest proof of appointment.

“Move aside, lady! You don't want to have to get injured!” a young woman's voice hollered in response.

“How have they managed to find me?” Donny Boy wondered out loud to himself.

“We have you outnumbered and we're very upset!”

“What the hell is going on out there?” Howl began to react.

Suddenly, managing not to completely fly off its hinges, the door to the office was viciously kicked open, creating a sudden gust of wind that would travel across the room, knocking over a slanted stack of printed papers off the corner edge of the desk.

Standing in the open doorway, visible tension throughout her arms as her hands were forged into concrete fists, a young, teenage girl had a rancid look of anger on her face. A dark, navy-blue blazer over a knitted, bright, yellow skirt, the young woman was dressed in a traditional, school-girl's uniform and had her hair cut down short, visible scrapes and bruises on her knees giving out impressions that the girl was perhaps a bit of a rowdy tomboy.

“Nayaiko! I found him! He's in here!” the young girl shouted back over her shoulder.

She would then come into the office, and shortly afterward, her thin silhouette appearing in the doorway, an additional and secondary, young woman showed her face and seemed equally upset at the current moment. Dressed in an identical uniform as the first, this second girl had her hair much greater in length and stood with long and beautifully braided pigtails poking out the sides of her head.

The second girl entered the office and shut the door.

Standing over Donny Boy who seemed to be trembling in his seat a little, the first girl snarled out of her nostrils and said, “This is the second time this week you tried to ditch us…”

“This honestly isn't the best time, girls,” Donny Boy said, his voice a bit shaky.

“You know, we were standing outside the changing booth for thirty-five minutes before we realized you weren't there,” the second girl would report. “You told us you were trying on some hats!”

“I did! Look!” Donny Boy then lifted the hat up off his head to showcase. “I ended up purchasing this really awesome fedora for myself. It's really cool, isn't it?”

Neither girl seemed to want to take the time to respond. They simply crossed their arms in defiance and stood with a pair of inconsolable scowls on their faces.

Continue...

[djpachipikachu]

Hey! You draw so beautifully! Do you think you can give me some tips for anatomy and sketching?

AW stop thank you so much ur so nice !!! and id love to :]

ive done a big post about some anatomy tips that you can check out here

but it is definitely a little old so here are more tips on anatomy !

i think my most utilized piece of advice for my own sketches is adding guidelines similar to the ones ppl usually add for the face to show where the body is facing? as an example here, i use a curved guide line to show how cj's body twists and tilts to build up a form , as well as lines for his legs and arms just to know where theyre facing

along with that CURVED LINES ARE YOUR BEST FRIEND !!! every part of the body is a glorified cylinder stacked on top of cylinders ! a lot of what helps make a body believable is that there Is some perspective used to show the dimensions even if there isnt any visible background

feet are also smth i see people struggle with and i dont Reallt know how to explain how i draw them but i usually draw a triangle with a half circle in front to mark where the toes are.,., make sure to include the arch of the foot and such..,,. make sure that the back of the heel pushes out a little further than where the leg connects....

this other small tip is about some of my favorite muscles to draw bc idk theyre fun LMAO but its about the deltoid and this other mass of muscle that control the neck

the deltoid is that triangle thats at the top of the arm and part of the shoulder ! adding some small lines that overlap into the arm and show the creases of the skin where the deltoid is placed helps add more solid form into the body :] and just drawing that sloped line of the neck muscles (green part) helps to connect the arm to the neck a littl more believably than if you just drew a straight line from the arm to the neck

HOWEVER LIKE . thats a stylization choice and also a matter of body type since im more used to drawing filled out muscular/fat body types, im not very experienced in bonier kinda bodies !

as for sketching advice ummm ..,. although i usually try to make a sketch as clean as possible first try , dont be afraid to have like a Super rough gesture type of sketch/thumbnail sketch just to get the movement and emotion down as best you can before refining it ! trying to make it accurate and detailed and shit on the get go can cause it to feel rly stiff , so get the Entire pose or comp down quickly in maybe 10-20min or less to just capture the motions before going over it again in a cleaner sketch ?

i tend to have the issue of forgetting to just capture everything first before getting into details so thats something i gotta remind mtself a lot LMAO here are some messy sketches i have where i just wanted to get shit down above all else

i also try to use as little lines as possible and get the vibe right in one brush stroke type of feel , no small chicken scratch/hairy lookin lines , which is mainly bc im aiming to be a storyboard artist and also bc i want to be able to post my sketches without needing to clean them up LMAO the only times i do a second sketch is for bigger pieces usually

another example of rly rough jotting down before cleaning it up

last bit of advice is using pen to do traditional sketches thank you and goodnight blows kisses

[userlando]

✧･ﾟ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

steve murphy x female!reader summary ⤍ work is piling on, bogotá is suffering from a heatwave and all you want is steve murphy. warnings ⤍ 18+ (mdni), co-workers to lovers, explicit language & smut, public sex, unprotected sex (piv) a/n ⤍ surprise surprise, of course i'd circle back to steve murphy some day. hope i made it justice. prob won't be the last i write of him since this was a lot of fun, so hope you enjoy this one lovies <3

It was brain meltingly hot in the office today, perspiration on your forehead and bra uncomfortably pinching your torso, to the point where it was almost antagonising you. It had been hot the moment you got out of bed this morning, and it hadn’t gotten any better throughout the day even though you’d opted to stay back in the office and work on the mountain of stacked papers that only seemed to grow by the hour on your desk.

You’d think that the heatwave would settle when people had begun to filter out, emptying the office space little by little. But the sun was still shining tauntingly through the windows and the floor fans were doing their best to keep up.

You glared at said fans, watching them spin round and round with the occasional squeal. A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against your chair, ignoring the discomfort of your shirt sticking to your back and reaching out for the nearest folder you could use to fan yourself with. The people in the office could really use an extra two swipes of deodorant and cut back on the cigarettes. The odours were starting to settle in your nose in the most unpleasant way and you didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

It was clear that you weren’t going to get much work done anymore, but you’d be damned if you stepped foot outside the building with the sun still beating down on the city of Bogotá and you had a feeling that your apartment wasn’t much better than… this. It had too many large windows with afternoon sun.

Your freezer contained ice lollies though, something you’d craved all day. And your apartment offered you the liberty of wearing a long tank top with no pants and no bra. But it didn’t have Steve Murphy.

Steve Murphy, who was sitting across from you with his back leaned against his chair in a similar position to yours. He was reading from a folder, eyebrows tightly knit the way they always got when he was concentrating and you took a moment to silently admire the arch of his nose and the inviting pink of his lips. His hair had been styled halfheartedly in the morning, but it was now sticking up from running his fingers through it and the strand were clumped up together from the sweat and moisture in the air. Nobody made sweating look as good as Steve did. It should’ve pissed you off but it was a sight for sore eyes.

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt when he stuck a chewed up pen in his mouth and bit into it, looking a little annoyed all of a sudden and you knew he’d finally given up on making sense of the endless amount of scripts and documents you’d spent the last three days pouring through. Carrillo was truly a closeted sadist for assigning you so much work to go through in such little time.

There was a small clearing of a throat from the side and you glanced to the left, feeling like a kid who’d gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Javier wasn’t looking at you, but there was a small smile playing on his lips that let you know that he’d definitely caught you ogling the blond man sitting in front of you. You reached your leg out and kicked him in the shin, earning a startled yelp from him and a questioning glance from Steve.

“Sorry,” you said with no remorse in your voice. “Muscle spasm.”

Javier narrowed his eyes at you like he could see right through your bullshit, flicking a stack of papers on his desk before picking some new ones up to read through. You could’ve bet a few bucks that he wasn’t reading through them as intently as he had been two hours ago. His mind had already checked out for the day, as had yours. You couldn’t blame him.

The three of you worked in moderate silence and the occasional annoyed grunt and comment thrown into the air, for the next hour. The sun was finally starting to set, casting shadows in the moderately empty office but you were getting more agitated by the second.

The heat was getting to you and fucking Steve couldn’t stop chewing his lip and touching his neck.

It all took you back to that one godforsaken night a few weeks ago. You’d gone out with the two of them for a drink, and Javier had wandered off at some point; Mumbling something about getting laid. And he’d subsequently left the two of you alone at the bar with more drinks in your systems than necessary and sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You’d sworn to never involve work and pleasure when you transferred to Colombia to work on catching the drug lord, and yet you’d found yourself pressed up against a wall in the far back of the bar and your tongue shoved down your partners throat. The taste of whiskey on his tongue had been intoxicating, everything about him had been irresistible. But it had been a one time thing, that’s where you set your boundary and Steve had respected it in his own way. He hadn’t tried anything with you, but there had been the occasional eye contact and suggestive comment. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t enjoy it just a tiny bit.

You must’ve started fidgeting in your chair because you caught Steve glancing up, not picking his head up from where it was slumped. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes made something in your stomach squirm.

“What?” You mouthed, biting the inside of your lip when his lips transformed into a smirk. It was like he could read your thoughts in your eyes. “Fucker.”

His smile got wider somehow, and he quickly managed to tamper it down when Javier suddenly sighed loudly. You both turned your gazed toward him, just in time to watch how he stood up from his chair and picked up a few folders.

“Need to make copies.” He explained, as if one of you had asked him. Javier didn’t need your permission though, nonchalantly grabbing his blazer and walking out of the room and you had a feeling that was the last you’d see of him for tonight.

You glanced back at Steve to catch him already staring at you, and you tried to not feel so self-conscious about the way your hair was probably a damp mess and your face sweaty. It looked good on Steve, but you couldn’t pull it off like he did.

“You done with that?” He asked, like you hadn’t been having a staring contest and you gave him a questioning arch of the eyebrows until he clarified by nodding at a folder by your arm.

“Have at it.” You sighed, handing it over to him before standing up from your chair.

It scraped against the floor and you glanced around to see if you’d disturbed anyone with the obnoxious sound. Aside from a few officers on the other side of the room, it was completely empty. And that made something redhot run through your blood.

You walked over to the water tank to fill your mug up with water cold enough to give you a brain freeze, thinking about maybe taking off and going home. Javier had once again left you alone with Murphy, and the heat was melting the last of your common sense.

There had been one close call where Carrillo had paired you and Steve together for a stakeout; monitoring a warehouse on the outskirts for any signs of drug transportations, but you’d smoothly gotten out of it and had Peña jump in instead. There was no telling what would happen if they put you and Steve in a car during the night with nothing but the two of you to keep each other company.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been friends before the bar incident, it was quite the opposite. Being a woman in this field was tough, but Steve had - along with Javi - welcomed you like his own surprisingly quickly.

There were only so many times you could carpool and watch a shitty movie cuddled up on the couch before you started treading over dangerous water. A phone call home didn’t bring you the same comfort as greasy food on the couch after a long day of chasing ghosts and criminals. It was easy to feel homesick when alone, so it was a good thing that you had your partners a few doors down if you ever needed them.

“It’s way too fucking hot to work.” Steve complained and you gave a laugh with a nod. He flicked the papers onto the desk and leaned all the way back on his chair and you took that as a sign that he - much like you - was done with work.

You rounded the corner of the desk and tried not stare too hard at his arms when he reached up to rest his hands on the back of his head. His biceps were bulging a little too invitingly, and you had to shake yourself as you perched on the edge of his desk. There was no mistaking his wandering gaze as he slowly looked up your legs, to your upper body until he reached your eyes and you raised your eyebrows to show him that you’d caught him looking.

He didn’t seem too embarrassed though, judging by the slow smile forming on his face.

“Might be time to call it for tonight.” You said, glancing around the half-empty office. “Not like we’re gonna make any more progress than we’ve done today.”

Steve made a sound in his throat like he agreed with your sentiment, happily accepting the mug of water when you handed it to him. You watched him take a sip, throat bobbing as he swallowed and you suddenly felt a little too hot under your clothes.

“D’you wanna head over to mine? Grab a beer and just kick back.” He asked, glancing up at you and you nodded slowly.

“Sure.” You watched him stand up, shuffling papers and folders around in a poor attempt to organise his desk before giving up and reaching for a packet of cigarettes. He stuck one between his teeth and lit it up. “Do you think Javi will be back?”

Steve looked at you with an are you serious? look, and you tried not to think about how hot he looked with a cigarette hanging from between his lips. Cocky looked so good on him.

“You’re lucky if you see him any more today.” He replied, grabbing his jacket and pushing in his chair.

You made a sound of agreement and walked around the desk, picking your bag up and showing a few folders inside it before the both of you were set to go home.

It couldn’t have been in your head, the tension in the air as the both of you walked out of the office. It felt like you were barely hanging onto a thread and it seemed to grow even thinner when the blond man touched your waist as he let you pass by him first through a doorway.

The two of you locked eyes for a split second and that confirmed everything that you needed to know. And that’s what you used as an excuse as your eyes flickered back and forth until you found a door that you knew lead to a documentation room, not hesitating for a split second as you reached your hand back and blindly grabbed Steve’s hand in yours.

He let you lead him way too easily, your hand shaking a little as you turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. And that’s when Steve took over, putting more of his body weight on your back to help you get into the room faster. You didn’t think of how unethical it was, or how it was such a bad idea to hook up once again with your partner at your workplace, of all places.

You didn’t even think of how absolutely stifling it was in the small room, too focused on the way Steve was staring you down like a predator eyeing it’s prey. He closed the door and turned the lock without taking his eyes off of you, and it was dark but not dark enough for you to miss the smirk playing on his lips as he walked you backwards.

You reached your hands out to grab at his disheveled tie, yanking hard enough for a breath to escape his lips before you settled your mouth over his in a heated kiss. There was a loud bang as he placed a hand flat against the metal drawers by your head to keep himself from stumbling into you, a moan creeping its way up his throat and you revelled in the taste of his tongue.

It was warm inside, suffocating really, but you needed more. You needed him closer and on you. He didn’t have any problems with complying when you snuck an arm around his torso and had the other one grab at his hair, turning your head slightly so he could lick deeper into your mouth.

You could taste the coffee he’d been sipping on a few hours ago and smell his aftershave that transported you back to that night at the bar where you’d been in a position just like this. He slid his mouth down your cheek, jaw and pressed sucking kisses and licks against the side of your throat. It was hard to stay still when the sharpness of his moustache hairs pricked and scratched your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, always smell so good, baby.” He was panting, and so were you.

There was no doubt that he could feel your heart beating in your throat, right under his lips where he was definitely sucking a mark that wasn’t gonna fade within the next week. It should’ve made you furious, because that meant scarves and long collars in this unbearable weather but it only made you keen and pull him in closer. The thought of him marking you up for your co-workers to see, for Javier to give off that infuriatingly smug grin and for Steve to proudly parade around; Knowing he did that.

You were a proud woman, having worked your ass off to get where you were today and you’d be damned if you were to be seen as someone other than their own person. But something about fooling around with Steve; Breaking the obvious unspoken rule that wasn’t really a rule. Not really. Rules were hardly a thing to follow within these walls if they weren’t reinforced by the colonel himself.

“Steve, you better fuck me now or I’ll scream.” You tried to sound threatening, but your voice sounded too breathy and it only made Steve laugh like he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

“So needy,” he whispered, pulling his head up to look at you and you reached forward to steal a kiss from his lips that he was all too happy to give. Hearing and feeling him sigh happily against you made your stomach feel like it was bottoming out, all the feelings you’d been trying to hold in, spilling out.

He brought his hands to the front of your torso, squeezing at the swell of your tits over your shirt and sliding his hands down your quivering stomach until he got to the button of your jeans, letting out a noise of frustration. You watched him unbutton your jeans with a smile, taking your chance to grab at his messy hair and tilt his head to the side so you could kiss the delicate skin of his neck.

You didn’t see it, but you could feel his hands falter where they were struggling to unbutton your jeans, his head throwing back for a few seconds like he was trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. You could’ve taken mercy on him and help him get you out of your pants, but it was a little too enjoyable for you to kiss and nibble at his throat and earlobe. You’d only hooked up twice now, but it didn’t take a genius to find his sweet spot seeing as it was right beneath his ear.

“Couldn’t have worn a damn skirt.” You heard him mutter as he crouched and you grinned.

“Not very —“

“Practical. Yeah, I know. So you’ve said.” You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could hear the eye roll in his voice and it made you smile even harder. Steve could be an asshole, but you’d be damned liar if you said that he wasn’t a good listener.

He finally pulled back and yanked your jeans down your legs, crouching down to help you out of them, one leg at a time. You ran your fingers through his hair and almost recoiled when he glanced up at you from his crouched position; Caught off-guard by the softness in them. The blue of his eyes made something fierce squeeze in your chest and you let out a small whimper when he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss between your legs, over your panties.

You watched him kiss his way up, and it felt like coming home when he finally reached your lips and pried then open with his own. There was no doubt that the man could kiss, and you loved every second of it.

It made you jump a little when he pulled your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers swiping through the mess that he’d created. He let out a shuddered breath against your lips and rocked back just far enough to look at you without the both of you going crosseyed.

“I don’t have a condom on me.” He murmured, and if you’d looked hard enough then you would’ve seen remorse in the blue of his eyes.

You tried to collect your thoughts but it was difficult when his fingers were circling your clit. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped a hole in it.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as his eyebrows climbed on his forehead. “And I’m clean. I trust you.”

He searched your eyes for a moment, and it would’ve almost been tender if it wasn’t for the fact that he got two fingers up your cunt and was fucking into you like he was testing out how wet you were.

It felt like an eternity when he finally nodded, offering you a small smile and a quick kiss.

“I’m clean too.” He pushed his fingers deep, making you gasp and buck into him. “And there hasn’t been anyone else after you. Or even before you.”

The implication was there, and you revelled in his confession because those had been thoughts that had been plaguing you for a hot moment. Javi had his line of women to call and you didn’t know if that was the case for Steve. You spent a lot of time together outside of work, but there were still gaps in time where he could’ve hooked up with whomever he pleased. This job was hard and it put a whole lot of pressure on your shoulders, so much so that the average person would cave from it. It was only normal to seek basic human intimacy and lose yourself in it, even if it was only for a night or an hour.

It made your belly turn a little sour whenever you thought of it, you just didn’t want to admit it out loud because that would somehow make it seem real. Make your feelings for him real. You weren’t sure what that meant.

Crossing the line with your partner a second time went against everything you’d believed in. You never wanted to get involved with anyone like this because your work was dangerous enough, add a person you cared for into the mix and it made it even more terrifying.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve’s gentle voice brought you back from your inner turmoil and you blinked at him, giving him a nod.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You replied, giving him a small smile when his lips turned up in reassurance. “Come on, I’m ready. Fuck me please, Steve.”

Steve groaned like he’d never heard anything sweeter, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up between you. He didn’t even hesitate to slip his digits inside his mouth to clean them off and you felt your entire body heat up at the crude sight. It reminded you of all the nights where you’d go out to grab a bite after work and he’d be licking his fingers clean from frying oil and grease. You’d found it a turn on then, and it certainly was a turn on now.

“You’re an asshole.” You giggled at the filthy smile playing on his lips, getting your hands on his trousers and unbuttoning them.

You glanced between the two of you and stuck your hand inside his underwear to fish him out, heartbeat picking up at the weight and warmth of him in your hands. You could hear him breathing against the side of your head, pressing his lips against your temple and making a piss poor attempt of stifling his moan when you got a good grip on him and slid your hand to the base.

“Feel so good in my hand, Steve.” You hummed, closing your eyes and marvelling in the press of his body when his hand started giving out to the weight. He was moaning quietly into your ear, voice rough and raspy as you jacked him off. “Can’t wait to feel it inside of me.”

He hummed out a drawn out groan, bending a little at the knees to get a good grip on your right thigh and hauling it up over his hip. The new angle allowed him to nudge against you and you gasped, leaning into it.

You were too busy looking between the two of you, and you didn’t register his other hand sliding up to cup your cheek until you were staring right into his eyes in the darkness. He was observing you, you realised. The moment felt a little too intimate to have in a decrepit room after office hours, but you didn’t dare to look away from his gaze.

His thumb ran over the bottom of your lip. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head to show him that yeah, of course you’re okay.

“I’m more than okay. Now, come on before the janitor makes his rounds.” You urged him, earning a startled laugh from the man.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, gripping himself and leaning a little more of his weight against you so he could notch right against your hole.

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pressed in, feeling him filling you up quicker than you expected but there was something about the burn that made you want more. So you didn’t protest, only gripping his shoulders tighter until he bottomed out.

Steve was watching your face the entire time, eyes struggling to stay open because fuck, the heat and the tightness of you gripping him made him feel like he’d died and entered the pearly gates of whatever heaven existed. The small hitches in your breathing was like music to him, and he longed for the day he could get you in his bed and fuck you properly until he had you moaning without the fear of being caught.

You were a loud one, that’s what he’d garnered from the one occasion you’d hooked up. But you were still holding back and he could tell by the way you gnawed at your lips and bit incomplete circles into his shoulders that did fuck all to silence your pretty sounds.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He murmured in encouragement when he started thrusting, hips meeting yours in the awkward angle but he knew he was hitting something good and deep inside of you. It was written all over your face. “Clenchin’ up so nicely around me. What a pretty sight you are.”

“Steve.” You moaned, treading your fingers in the strands of his damp hair and bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss.

It was all teeth and tongue, noses bumping and teeth knocking but it made you weak in the knees all the same. You indulged yourself for a few moments, letting yourself get lost in his taste and touch before breaking the kiss, leaning your forehead against his and watching him through blurry eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Seeing Steve lost in the feeling, hips working against yours and arms grabbing at you to keep you steady and hold you close was a marvel to see. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get tired of the little pinched expression on his face when something felt particularly good for him; How his mouth would drop open into a little O and his eyebrows would draw together. Kind of like how they did when he’d sit across from you at your desks while he struggled to read Spanish.

Your stomach was knotting up, the telltale sign of your end nearing and you let go of his shoulder with one hand to shove it between your bodies and hook your hand into your panties.

The touch of your fingers against your clit made you clench, which made Steve’s thrust stutter and his breath get punched out of him.

“Keep going,” he encouraged you, nodding his head and jostling your head in the process form where it was leaned against his. “Touch yourself for me, wanna feel you come.”

It was cliché, and ridiculous how fast you neared the edge of oblivion at the whispered words he was speaking against your mouth. They sounded so demanding, breathless and absolutely filthy.

There was a second of desperation where the two of you clung to each other, his hips bruising yours and his hands no doubt leaving marks as he pulled you tight to his body. Your hand cramped up and you had just enough time to lean toward his shoulder and bite down before you were sent over the edge with a muffled shout.

You heard a distinct guttural moan, and you couldn’t tell if it was coming from you or Steve thanks to the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. But you could absolutely feel how he buried himself inside of you and let himself go, your already sensitive body shaking where it was slumped against his.

There was no telling who was holding up who, but you suspected that he was doing the brunt of the work because you couldn’t feel your fucking legs and your mouth was still open against his shoulder. You picked your head up when your senses slowly started seeking back into your body, making a sound in your throat when you realised that you’d been drooling.

Steve tilted his head to the side at the noise, gaze following yours and he let out an exhausted laugh.

“Is it weird if I find that hot?” He asked, voice hoarse and low and you laughed.

“Shut up,” you winced as he slowly let your leg back down on the grimy floor, slipping out of you in the process. “Oh, gross.”

Steve snorted, cupping a hand against your cheek and pressing a kiss against the side of your head. You bit back a smile at the tender gesture, busying yourself with adjusting your underwear so you didn’t have to look at him.

He didn’t say anything as the both of you got cleaned up as best you could, redressing yourselves and you didn’t want to chance a glance at him just yet. You didn’t know what you’d find written on his face; whatever emotion or expression it would hold. You weren’t quite ready to face it just yet.

You watched his back as he walked up to the door, eyebrows raising in amusement when he cracked the door open and peeked outside into the hallway. He must’ve deemed it clear, because he slid it open and stepped to the side, reaching a hand out to gesture you to get a move on.

You didn’t waste any time to slip back outside again, the hallway feeling much cooler than the stifling confines of the documentation room. There was nothing you craved more than a shower at that moment, feeling sticky all over. And the fact that you were absolutely ruining what was left to salvage of your underwear.

“Are we still on for that beer?” Steve asked, distracting you from your wandering thoughts and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

His hair was looking worse for wear, cheeks flushed and lips bitten raw and pink. There was no way that anyone could take a look at you and not think that you’d been screwing each others brains out. You almost feared looking in a mirror, afraid of what you’d find in terms of marks and scratches.

“I hope you have some at your place because all I have is milk.” You replied, earning a small shoulder bump from the man next to you.

“I’ve got you.” He opened the door leading the way out to the street. “Besides, I’ve got better fans in my apartment.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Yours was only days away from falling apart into pieces. You just hoped that yours wouldn’t break down tonight when this heatwave was still active and raging. You’d actually cry.

Steve unlocked his door and opened the passenger door for you, regarding you with a look in his eyes that made you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

“Would you wanna stay over tonight?” He asked, forehead wrinkling and your eyebrows raised.

He looked almost nervous. Uncertain. Like he didn’t know whether you were going to blow him off or take him up on his offer. It made you pause as you searched his face, and you didn’t know why you suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of adoration but it made your knees shake a little.

“You mean sleep in your bed?” You asked, voice lilting into a teasing tone and it made Steve smirk.

You watched him tilt his head back and forth, as if he was unsure but the smile on his lips was playful and it made you feel a little giddy.

“Amongst other things.” He replied and you laughed.

“Scandalous.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, tongue in cheek as he struggled to refrain from smiling too big. You turned and started to climb into his truck, the sound of a loud smack making you let out a loud yelp. You didn’t even register the slight pain in your asscheeks until you’d turned fully and sat down on the seat; Realising that he’d just slapped you.

“You’re a sleaze, y’know that?” You glared at him, but Steve only grinned like he was proud of himself.

He pushed the door open even wider and crowded your space, sliding his hands up your cheeks to cup them and bring your face to his. You blinked up at him, a little breathless at the sight of his blue eyes so close up to yours.

“You still like me, don’t you?” He murmured, corner of his lips tugging and you couldn’t help but press a kiss against it; Watching it transform into a smile.

“Just a little.” You lied, earning a longer kiss from him.

“I’ll take that.”

[ogh-rambles]

Rewriting Fate - Chapter 4

chapter 3 > chapter 4 (you're here!) > chapter 5(in progress...)

word count! 2k.

warnings! only curses but if u count angst as one... a/n: oh boy we're back with the famed scene (click here for the full scene of the art below!)

A short, comfortable small talk envelops your party as Katsuragi guides you both to the village, an ever-present smile on his face. 

“I see… I’m glad you left that place before the landslide hit.” The man hums thoughtfully. “And your friend…”

Katsuragi’s gaze eventually lands on the golden feather that sways from Kuni’s neck, the latter restless under his intense stare.

His dark eyes grow wide at the sight, shocked to see an item of such importance so far from the mainland where Tenshukaku stands. “You... You have the Plume of Luxury. What affiliation do you have with the Shogun…?” 

You stiffen at his words, watching as he quickly notices Kuni’s avoidance in question to the topic behind the feather. Kuni nervously clutches the golden ornament in his palm, moving closer to you.

Pausing, Katsuragi clears his throat, nodding to himself as he averts his attention away.  “I suppose it’s for the best that you keep your background to yourself.” 

Kuni nods quietly, tucking it into his collar.

Your eyes move on from the two, quickly distracted by the plentiful clusters of homes and warmly lit windows emerging in the distance, exposing a much more lively view of Tatarasuna than you were previously familiar with. The buildings were in their prime, the wooden panels worn yet steady under your feet as you made your way into the village under the cover of night.

The aching sensation in your heart grows strong as you take in the prosperous village, knowing what is to come in a matter of years. Guilt, maybe. Hope? You’re already scared of the butterfly effect that was inevitable with your arrival, but you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you gave a small hint here and there. Would Tatarasuna still be thriving in the future as it is now? 

Your wandering eyes meet the prototype beside you, who lights up under your attention, still holding onto your sleeve with his firm grasp.

What will happen to him then?

You barely stop yourself from face-planting into a wall of muscle as Katsuragi stops abruptly in front of a small home. He slides the door open and turns around, gesturing inside.

“I will take you both to my superior, Nagamasa.” Katsuragi briefly explains, ushering you both into the warm interior before he heads in himself.

Your shoulders sag at the heat that enveloped your shivering body, noticing a small, dusty fireplace nestled into one of the corners. It seems newly built, you note as you stare into the embers. A couple of leftover stone bricks were still stacked up precariously against the wall. 

Kuni looks around, starry-eyed as he stands rather close to you despite the extra space, his synthetic skin cool against you. The one room was a little cramped to be housing three people at once, but you couldn’t complain. It was much better than the small cavern you and Kuni had found a few moments ago.

You lift your head, eyes wide at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Ah, Katsuragi. I need your help with something, do you think… Oh?” A man, a little older than Katsuragi walks in from the other room, slipping through the sliding frame doors. He looks a little taken aback by the two strangers who seem just as lost as he. “And… whom might they be?”

So this was the man who would later be the one to slay Katsuragi when everything fell apart. You hold back a grimace, the soft murmurs between the two men turning into white noise in your ears as you study Nagamasa discreetly. 

He hadn’t made an appearance in the game, so you were at least a little curious about what he looked like. Dark brows are drawn into a tight crease, and brown eyes, clear and sharp, flicker from his yoriki to you and Kuni. 

He rakes a hand through black hair as he nods at Katsuragi’s explanation. The locks were a little unkempt, loose and just barely brushed his shoulders as he moved to face you. 

“I apologise for the wait. Welcome to Tatarasuna village.” He murmurs, steady gaze flickering between you and Kuni. “Kasturagi has explained to me that he found you both while patrolling on Nazuchi Beach.”

It wasn’t really a lie. Katsuragi had found you on the beach as he said but had excluded any mention of you finding Kuni in Shakkei Pavillion. 

You nod along to Nagamasa’s words as Katsuragi turns to the other man, gesturing to you.

“Yes, this is…” Katsuragi paused, looking a little sheepish. “Ah, my mistake. I forgot to ask you both for your names in the rush to get you both here.”

You blink. “Oh. Right.”

With hidden trepidation, you tell them your name, eyes darting down to your hands. Now your name was out there. You quickly move on from there, turning to the one sitting beside you, staring at you with wide shining eyes. Right, you hadn’t even told him your name.

Kuni whispers your name under his breath, lips curving into a small smile that had you mentally squinting against the pure light that emitted from him.

“And you?” Nagamasa quirks his brow, briefly eyeing the expensive-looking fabric that the other had donned. 

Kuni shuffles uneasily beside you. “I don’t have one.” 

The older man gruffly hums, scratching at his chin while Katsuragi frowns. “Don’t have one, you say…”

Katsuragi thinks for a moment before raising an offer with a subtle tilt of his head. “How about giving yourself a name? What do you think about that?”

The puppet’s eyes widen. “A name… for me?”

"You can think about it as you settle down in our village." Katsuragi leans back, crossing his arms across his chest. He seems pleased at the other's reaction.

The prototype nods as naive hope and admiration blossom in his hollow chest. 

Nagamasa watches the interaction with an unreadable, neutral expression, clearing his throat. 

“Now, about living in Tatarasuna…”

After introducing you to his superior, Katsuragi welcomed you both into his own home, offering a place to sleep for the night before they set up a place for you both to live in for the rest of your stay here at Tatarasuna. 

As you comfortably lay in the warm futon that Katsuragi had so generously laid out for you in a spare room, you absentmindedly stare up at the ceiling. Your new companion was and had been staring at you for quite some time now, sitting on his futon instead of slipping under the covers. 

You think back to the conversation you had with Nagamasa. 

The inspector had given you two a chance to start a life in Tatarasuna after you revealed that you had no memory of ending up on the beach. You were to start learning the basics of swordsmithing by tomorrow morning along with Kuni. Despite having eased your worries about meeting Katsuragi and continuing the story as it was planned, you can’t help but feel a lingering concern. 

Sighing exasperately, you flip to your side, staring back. Innocent indigo eyes blinked at you before a whisper filled the room. “Not sleeping? I thought you said humans needed to sleep?”

“Mn. Not tired.” You prop your head up on the pillow to face him better. “Why don’t you lie down? I know you don’t need sleep but the futon is comfortable.”

You watch Kuni let out a soft ‘oh’, before sliding into the covers stiffly, unsure of his movements. He glances at you for approval. “It’s… soft.”

“Isn’t it?” Settling down, you breathe out, the heavy weight on your chest a little lighter after talking to him. “Even if you don’t need to do the things humans do, doesn’t it feel nice to do them anyway?”

A soft shuffling noise comes from Kuni as he turns to you, the covers pulled up to his chin. He nods.

The corners of your lips naturally lift in amusement. “Now go to sleep. Isn’t it boring to stay up doing nothing all night?”

Shifting slightly under the thick blanket, the puppet finally shuts his eyes, letting his body rest like he saw you do before. It’s a little strange, allowing his body to fall slack when he’s so used to being aware of everything, eyes wanting to take in everything that the world presents him with. 

Listening to your soft breaths fill the room, he can’t help but make his artificial lungs mimic yours. He knows he doesn’t need to breathe or sleep. But as he finds his body relaxing, his mind goes quiet.

Finally, he lets himself rest in your presence.

Sitting up, you watch with a bittersweet smile as your companion ‘falls asleep’. Moving slowly and quietly, you slip out of the sheets, your steps silent against the tatami mat as you cautiously move towards the doors.

You glance back with finality at the unmoving form under the sheets, your distant eyes skimming over his dark hair splayed out on the pillow to his tranquil resting face.

You had been contemplating executing this plan since you had first met him in the pavilion. Initially, you had thought that you had ruined everything by leaving the domain with him, however, things had worked out in your favour and now things were where they had always been. 

Now only you were the abnormality in this moment. You weren’t supposed to be here. Staying would only mean you would distort the story more, and the thought of a future you didn’t know frightens you. 

Feeling the biting wind against your skin, you rip your gaze away, slipping out the doors and closing it behind you with a soft click, walking across the wooden panels of the deck that surrounded the home. You had to leave before your hesitation got the better of you and you ended up making a decision that you would regret.

Your feet touch the grass as you ready yourself to leave.

“Where are you going..?”

Your heart sank, head whipping around. Shit.

He’s staring at you with wild, desperate eyes – confusion and terror written all over him. They dart frantically across your face, as if searching for any reason you might have for leaving the room without him. 

It's almost painful to look at him, his trembling hand gripping so tightly onto his veil.

“...”

You say nothing.

What could you even tell him? That this was for his own good? That you swear that you’ll come back to him in the future?... That you were terrified to ruin his life more than it would become?

His expression grows more and more distraught at your silence and he stumbles towards you, desperately clutching at your clothes.

“Do you not like it here?” His thready voice quivers, sounding smaller than ever. “That’s okay, we can go…!”

The inner turmoil was back again, hitting you in full force. It was for his own good, you think to yourself. You’d rather carry the burden of leaving him rather than—

“... I’ll go with you! Wherever you go! Wherever!” His form shudders with every word, tears pooling in his eyes. “So...! So... Please... Please, please, please, please.”

“... Don’t leave me.”

You fail to swallow down the building lump in your throat, steeling yourself as you breathe in and—

…

You find yourself back inside, face vacantly fixed up at the ceiling again. The pressure on your heart is replaced with the arms of a desperate puppet clinging onto your body, his futon discarded for your own. He’s tense, and the extreme closeness is a little stifling but you can’t bring yourself to complain or push him away. 

His face is buried into your shoulder, and your heart squeezes with immense guilt as you feel him hiccup softly against your shirt. 

Your plan failed.

Closing your eyes, you exhale slowly as you tentatively reach up and card your fingers through his silken hair. He goes quiet, holding your arm tighter.

… There was no way you could leave now.

[anbuselvi1]

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[shadowmaat]

Thanks for the Lift

Corrie Week, Day 5: Fix-It (major character death, but it's only Palpatine)

-

Fox heard the noise from his office. The grinding screech of tortured metal was accompanied by a vibration that knocked over a stack of datapads on his desk. He knew, instinctively, what had happened and was already out the door before the first shouts.

The Corrie's lift was a death trap and everyone knew it. It groaned and rattled even at the best of times, but it was the easiest way to get to the Guard sector. Even so, most chose to take the stairs or come around from the outside of the building unless they were in a hurry.

There was already a small crowd gathered around the lift doors. They were still closed, but a huge gash had sheared through the reinforced metal and smoke was leaking through it.

"Don't just stand there!" Fox snapped at the gawkers. "Get those doors open! There could be an injured trooper in there!"

It was a lie and they all knew it; if anyone had been onboard there was little chance they'd survived. That didn't mean they couldn't hope and try.

His sibs jumped into action, two of them running for the heavy equipment locker while the rest gathered to try and open the doors through brute force.

Rattle stood nearby, swaying on her feet. Her armor rattled worse than usual.

"Rattle, you okay?" Fox walked into her line of sight. Her helmet was off, dropped to the floor beside her, and her eyes didn't seem to track him.

"Lieutenant Rattle! Report!"

She shuddered, snapping to attention and firing off a salute on sheer muscle memory.

"Sir!" She fixed her eyes on him. "I was waiting for the lift! I heard..." Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, her eyes wide and shining. "I heard a scream," she whispered, voice squeaking.

Fuck. Fox pulled his helmet off and looked her in the eye.

"It's alright, Rattle." He kept his voice soft as he reached out, cupping the back of her neck. She twitched, but didn't look away.

"There's nothing you could have done. The important thing is that you're safe, yeah?"

"I... I don't..."

"I do know," Fox assured her, briefly pressing his forehead against hers. "Now, go check in with Nudge. Tell him what happened and make sure he's ready for whatever we find."

"I... yeah."

The strength seemed to come back to her. "Yessir," she said, nodding acknowledgement of the order. "I'll do that!"

She fast-marched down the hall toward the infirmary, so Fox turned his attention to the current disaster.

How many repair requests had he sent about this damn lift? Always rejected. Always ignored. He'd even taken the chance of mentioning it to the Chancellor once, only to be given a patronizing excuse about the "war budget" and "money goes where it's needed most." Probably right into the coffers of the warmongering Senators.

And now someone was dead because of it.

Fox channeled his rage into helping. The doors had been knocked off their tracks and wouldn't budge more than an inch or two, but Nubs and Burke soon returned with the hydraulic rescue tool and they were able to pry open the broken doors.

Helmet-mounted floodlights revealed more of the carnage. Dangling wires sparked and flakes of metal glittered. The permacrete interior of the shaft was scored and crumbling in places. The only thing missing, however, was the car that had fallen.

"Did it... did it crash right through the floor?" Burke asked.

This was supposed to be the bottom level in this part of the building. There shouldn't be any more down to go. And yet the hole where the bottom of the shaft should have been swallowed up their lights.

"No sign of floor for it to crash through," Fox observed, which was irritating. He was supposed to know the layout of the entire Senate, dammit. He'd downloaded all the schematics, old and new, so he could be sure no one could break in through hidden passages. And yet here was a hidden passage right in their Storms-damned territory.

After a brief but intense discussion, climbing gear was retrieved from storage and Fox led a team down into the unexplored depths below them.

The shaft continued down a long way. Long enough that he was getting concerned about running out of rope before their lights finally reflected off the remains of the damaged lift.

Recovery began. Equipment was hauled down to them and the broken remains were photographed, catalogued, and hauled back up out of the way. Spur and his forensics team were being meticulous about everything. Not that anything would come of it, of course. No one would care about the death of a single trooper, even one who'd been the victim of faulty equipment.

Fox oversaw it all, as was his duty, and was first into the destroyed car once Spur declared the scene stable.

There wasn't any way to identify the remains. Whoever it was hadn't even been in armor. Fox said a few words while Spur collected samples and sent them up for analysis.

"Uh... sir?"

Burke's voice was strained over the comm.

"I think... I think you'll want to see this, sir."

Fox couldn't get a ping on Burke's location, but a gap in the doors showed that he'd likely gone exploring whatever space was at the true bottom of the shaft.

"It better not be more dead bodies."

"Uh..."

The hesitation was ominous.

Fox let Spur know where he was going and wriggled through the broken doorway into a large open space.

There was lighting down here. Good lighting. Fox almost wished it wasn't.

There were tanks with... things floating in them. It looked like something out of a scene from one of those damned horror flicks Thire loved. Some of the shapes were humanoid and gave him bad flashbacks to Kamino. Others were more confusing. One contained the embalmed head of a muun, displayed like a trophy.

"This looks like weird shit, Burke," Fox said.

"Sorry, sir," Burke replied.

Fox hated weird shit. And it was just his luck that Coruscant seemed to be Weird Shit Central.

That's when he noticed the transplas box in front of the head. The transplas box that contained contained a metal cylinder with an ignition switch.

"Garbage detail for a month, Burke."

When his attempt to contact Thire failed, he headed back to the shaft, not as surprised as he should have been that as soon as he squeezed through the doors he had a signal again.

"Thire, we've got a problem," he said, switching to private comm.

"That's a fucking understatement. They're gonna pin this on us, you know."

Fox frowned. "What? How the hell were we supposed to know about a secret lab that wasn't on any of the schematics?"

"Secret lab? I'm talking about Chancellor Pastepatine. You know, the body in the lift?"

Fox closed his eyes and counted to ten. It didn't help.

"So we have a dead Chancellor who should never have been on that lift, a secret nightmare lab at the bottom of that lift, and some kind of Jedi shit, based on the lightsaber I just found?

Thire swore, long and hard.

"That's it," Fox said. "I'm calling the Jedi."

"You're calling the Jedi?" Thire repeated.

"This isn't just weird shit, it's weird Jedi shit and I'm going to dump the whole thing in their laps and go on holiday somewhere on the Outer Rim."

Thire scoffed. "Good luck with that. Be sure to send a holocard."

-

Fox didn't get his vacation, of course. But he and the Guard were absolved in the death of the Chancellor; all the repair requests he'd submitted helped prove that.

The Jedi swarmed the lab, and each secret they uncovered seemed to be more horrible than the last. High General Windu himself was put in charge of the media circus regarding the death of the Chancellor, although a lot of important details were left out of the things he had to say.

Like the fact that the Chancellor was a Sith. And that he'd been playing both sides of the war. And that the clones were an unwitting part of his grand conspiracy to seize power.

Contrary to popular belief, Fox didn't hate the Jedi, he'd just never seen much use in them. Until now. Now he was very, very grateful that they were on his side. Maybe he'd even let that Orve kid join the Guard, since it seemed the war was going to be winding down soon.

Maybe just a little bit of weird shit, once in a while, could be a good thing after all.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 14- Homesick

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I've been consuming a lot of Dr. House lately. Now I want to write a Dr. House AU with the cod characters.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

You pace around the carpeted office. Ignoring the dull ache climbing up your calf. It's good to work the muscle, otherwise it will weaken and shrink. Valeria sighs after your fourth lap and looks up at you.

"If you need something to do you can work on this stack of paperwork." She remarks dryly. You look back at her, eyes briefly drifting down to her lips before rising back up to her eyes. You can still taste the smoke in your mouth.

The last thing you want to do is sit down and do more paperwork. If you do more paperwork, you are sure you'll go mad. It's so mind numbingly boring. Your thoughts drift back to the lab and what you did in the lab. Mixing and measuring chemicals. That's what you want to be doing. Not playing assistant to Valeria. You're above personal assistance.

"How long until we have the new lab set up?" You ask. Deciding to sit down when the pain starts to become borderline unbearable. Valeria's lips thin warningly.

"Not for a while," She says. "the explosion destroyed everything, including the space. I still need to find somewhere else to put all that new, expensive machinery."

 

Her pointed words have their intended effect. You're aware that you messed up. You're still actively suffering from the consequences of your carelessness. You give your leg a small shake. Still suffering, even if you're healing quickly.

"I know." You say. "I'm sorry."

Valeria scoffs. "I'm sure you are." She says, looking back down at her work. She rests her forehead on her palm, clearly also finding the work to be boring and life sucking.

"... So about El Paso." You murmur.

She glares at you. "Enough about El Paso. Quit bothering me about it." 

The group still hasn't returned. Valeria told you she wouldn't come up with a plan until they did, but you know her well enough to know she already has something brewing in her head. There's always a plan when Valeria is involved. She should be involving you as well. It concerns you as much as it does her. 

"I know you have something, Valeria." You say. "I'm your cook, and currently the one handling your paperwork. Tell me."

"You've done maybe five pages of paperwork over the course of a couple weeks." She growls. "You haven't done anything useful since you injured yourself."

Valeria's voice is harsh and full of irritation. 

"That's not true." You frown. "I organize your files, and I've done more than just five pages."

Valeria leans forward in her chair. Eyes narrowed. "No, you haven't. I don't know if it's because you genuinely can't go any faster or if you're too stupid to do paperwork without having to re-read the same document five times just to understand it."

You stare at her. Caught off guard by her abrupt rudeness. "I'm not stupid." You reply defensively.

"Are you sure?" She raises her brows. "Because you keep acting like I won't replace you."

Valeria got up close to your face and held your jaw in her warm hands. She looked into your eyes and blew smoke into your mouth. She's reassured you when you were low only to tear you down again. You don't understand it. It's like she gets a sort of satisfaction from puppeteering your feelings. 

"I'm starting to understand why no one ever wants to hang around you." You say shortly. You see her gaze darken but you continue anyway. Not at all worried about her hurting you. "If this is how you treat your friends, I'd be shocked to learn you still have any."

"I am not your friend." Valeria snaps.

"No, you're not." You snap back. You stand, not wanting to be in the same room as her anymore. 

She straightens, brows lowered. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere else." You reply, walking out of the office before she can argue.

Valeria is complicated. She is your boss, but you're not dumb enough to think that's all she is. You've had too many 'little moments' for it to stay that way. It's frustrating. Hanging onto those small threads of normalcy while she saws at them with a dull razor. you aren't sure what will happen once they snap, and you're left free falling.

You avoid Valeria for a while. Working on exercising your leg and pouring over your notes with intense focus. You're tired of people undervaluing you and thinking that you're some sad little wallflower that they can walk over all they want. You stretch your leg out over the bed and flex it. You're able to walk around without the crutches now. With mild struggle, but you can. Staying here is becoming all the more pointless. You can walk on your own, can shower without help. You still aren't entirely sure why you were here anyway. Why she insisted you stay. Valeria said it was because she would be getting something out of it but you aren't sure she did.

You stretch and lay down. Enveloped by the soft white sheets. They smell like you now. A knock on the door startles you.

"What?" You ask. Valeria pushes open the door.

"Sleeping?" She asks. Leaning against the doorframe.

 "Yeah, I'm fast asleep." You say dryly.

She looks like she's biting back a retort. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?" She asks. "Because both of us will have a hard time doing our jobs without any communication."

Valeria preaching the practice of communication feels ironic in a way. Her attempt at lecturing you like you're some wayward teenager aggravates you.

"Yeah, might be hard to blow smoke into my mouth then call me an idiot right after if we aren't speaking to each other." You hum.

Valeria frowns at you. "Yeah, might be." 

"Are you sorry?" You ask. Narrowing your eyes at her.

She furrows her brows at you, uncrossing her arms. "For?"

"Gee, I don't know Valeria, why don't you guess?"

Valeria closes her eyes as she makes an active effort to reign in her temper.

"I am sorry that your feelings were hurt." She says. Opening them and looking right at you, flicking over your body as you sit up straighter.

"That's not an apology." You say firmly.

 "Sorry you feel that way."

You shake your head. For some reason you feel disappointed in her inability to apologize. To show that she respects you enough to do only that. Like she failed a test neither of you were aware of.

You change the subject, deciding that it's pointless to try and ring an apology out of her. 

"I think I'm good to go home tonight." You tell her. Watching as her expression morphs into confusion.

"No you aren't." She says confidently. "You can still barely walk."

"I can walk fine, Valeria." You reply. 

Something seems to have agitated her. She crosses her arms. "Not that I can't replace you, but if you injure yourself and die at home finding someone else to cook meth for me will be a real pain in the ass." She remarks.

Her words make you feel so appreciated. Regardless, it's good to know that you'd be hard to replace. it means your job is somewhat insured and by extension your life.

"Most of my wounds are almost healed completely." You speak. "It's time for me to stop intruding on you and leave."

Valeria steps closer. "You aren't intruding."

You rise to your feet, stumbling slightly when they tingle from being in the wrong position for too long. "Still, whether or not I am, I'm good to go." You say. Looking at her. "I'm getting homesick anyway."

A frown crosses Valeria's features and she actually looks like she's about to argue with you but eventually she relents. Turning away from you.

"Fine. Get your things." She replies stiffly.

After she leaves your room, you begin to repack your things. The clothes you brought, your toothbrush, hair care, skin care. It takes you only thirty-three minutes. You find Valeria waiting for you down in the living room, scrolling on her phone with lowered brows. She looks up when she hears you approaching.

"Let's go." She says. Without waiting for you she's out the door.

The car ride home is tense. There's no music or talking to fill in the silence between the two of you but based on the grip she has on the steering wheel she probably won't have anything nice to say. She reaches a red light and slows to a stop. Valeria is, after all, a good, law-abiding citizen. You finally arrive back at your apartment. Seeing the washed out, cracked brick building. You glance at her.

"Thanks." You nod.

"Hm."

Her dismissive response makes you frown but you let it go. Opening the car door, you step out. You open the back door and fumble around the backseat for your bags before walking away from the car to the dirty glass entrance. Valeria hurries off without waiting for you to go inside.