#I hate writing fics in public but maybe I’ll do that for a bit

[reverie-starlight]

guys i was so productive today

[sapphicstrawcore]

ᰔ Arcane Modern au: 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

—Sevika, pt2

Loser sevika!au part 2 coming soon! Maybe I’ll even… write… a fic…? And not only Headcanons…? Who knows…?

I feel like this one’s a bit longer than the first one, but maybe I’m just hallucinating. Anyway, enjoy 🫶🏻

pt one, pt two

masterlist ᰔ

She hates vapes. Sticks to hard-ass, stinky no-filter cigarettes like she’s 60 and been through three divorces. Marlboro Reds. Maybe unfiltered Lucky Strikes. She’d rather die than hit a pink grape vape. She’s like “put that USB shit away from me”.

If you tell her it’s bad for her health and she can die she just says “yeah but at least I’m not dying like a clown”.

She doesn’t have a bag. She refuses to have a bag. Her idea of “organization” is shoving everything into her pockets like a raccoon. Her wallet’s half unzipped. Her phone screen’s cracked from her keys scratching it. When you offer her a pouch once she’s heavily offended and doesn’t take it.

But when you go out together ?? You’re her vessel. “Hold this for a sec,” she says, dropping her entire life into your bag without waiting for an answer.

“You still got my ID in there, babe?” Like yeah, -unfortunately-, your bag with HER stuff inside is your responsibility.

What is yours is hers and what is hers is yours in your relationship, so she always reaches into your bag like it’s hers. Doesn’t even ask. Just digs around with those big scarred fingers like “Where’s my gum?” and pulls out the most random thing you forgot you even had in there, like a cute miffy keychain or a hello kitty plushie. Not what she was looking for.

She’s so bad at texting she looks like she’s abt to break up with you at every message. She’s dry as hell— All her texts are either one-word responses, her max is five or just “k.” But she does show up 30 minutes later with food, painkillers, and your favorite candy.

She doesn’t understand why you get anxious over her texts until you text her like she does one day and she freaks out bc she doesn’t why you stopped yapping every 30 seconds with emojis and capital letters.

She DOES have social media, instagram mostly cause she realized it had its benefits: stalking you. Shamelessly. I mean “stalking” is a too dramatic word for her. You’re her partner and your acc is public, come on.

What she doesn’t tell you is that she actually made her acc before you even got together.

Actually even before you became friends in the first place. She wanted to know you before—

Her acc is private and she doesn’t want to do anything with it at first but she ends up with a few blurred and strangely aesthetic pics and when she change her pfp with her side profile she’s confused by the girls asking to follow her acc.

She’s not trying to be a red flag—she just kinda is, passively, by default. She thinks she’s just existing normally but you have to tell her sometimes smth like “okay, be normal, you’re scaring people rn.”

Like she’s just standing at a gas station at 2AM waiting for you, arms crossed, cigarette in mouth, looking like she’s about to kill someone but in her head she’s just vibing! You try to explain it to her and she’s like “The fuck? I was just waiting for you. Literally just breathing.”

She’s not emotionally unavailable on purpose—she just didn’t grow up around people who put their feelings into words so it’s difficult but she tries.

That’s all for todayyyy I don’t really know how to feel about this one, maybe it’s bc I spent too much time writing it, so I feel confused abt if it’s a good one or not, but anyway, I did it and it’s not so bad so it’s fine

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

since you asked me to tag you in the next one, @lonerslug 🫶🏻

[ninisdollie]

nerdy simp boyfriend taki thoughts 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x taki, established relationship, simp! taki, just some headcanons, he’s a little disgusting but we love him, dirty talk, a bit of objectification, unprotected sex, creampie, facial, usage of sex toys, masturbation, public sex, idk what more omg.

notes: i’m so so taki brainrotted rn so i had to write something dirty for him again but since my brain is literally fried from the heeseung fic i’m writing these are just short thoughts <3

hate comments will be deleted and blocked !! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

Thinking about nerdy simp boyfriend Taki.

Taki’s always top of his class, organized, responsible, polite. But the second you walk in the room? His brain melts. Words? Gone. He stares at you like you’re the goddess he prays to every night.

The first time you approached him, he almost died right there.

Taki didn’t even look up when you slid into the seat next to him at the campus café, he just kept highlighting notes in four different colors like always, half-mumbling a greeting, completely oblivious.

Until your hand slid across the table and you whispered,

“Hey, Taki. Do you think you could tutor me?”

He blinked, pen stilling mid-sentence.

“Y-You want me to tutor you?”

You gave him that smile. The one that made him short-circuit every time.

“Yes, you are like, the smartest guy in class. I could use your help a bit.”

His throat clicked when he swallowed.

The first session was in the library. You wore a low-cut top and lip gloss that shimmered when you bit down on it, and poor Taki had no idea where to look. His eyes kept darting between the problem set… and your chest.

He was trying so hard to be good.

You leaned forward just enough to make him sweat, the scent of your perfume fogging up every rational thought in his head. You tapped your pencil against the textbook, lower lip caught between your teeth.

“Is this the correct answer?” you murmured, voice saccharine and dripping with innocence.

Taki’s mouth parted slightly.

He forgot the question. Forgot the answer. Forgot his own name.

“I—I think so. Wait—n-no. I mean, not quite. Um—here, let me just—”

His hand brushed yours when he reached for the pencil, and his breath hitched. You looked up at him with those glossy eyes and he was gone.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cheeks flushed, adjusting his glasses as he tried to refocus. “I—I’ll explain it again. Slower. You just—it’s okay if you’re not getting it yet. I’ll go over it as many times as you need.”

God, he was such a sweet boy, trying so hard to be helpful, to be smart, professional.

But his eyes kept falling back to the soft swell of your cleavage when you leaned over the desk again, tapping his arm gently and whispering:

“Could you maybe… help me one-on-one sometime? I think I’d learn better that way.”

He nearly choked on his own saliva.

After that night, he was gone.

One week in: he was texting you constantly. Sending notes he made just for you, doodles of your name in the margins, reminders to drink water. The kind of boyfriend who’d go down on you before his exams to calm his nerves.

Two weeks in: he was edging himself in his dorm room with a pillow over his face, whining into the sheets, thinking about how you taste and how you sounded when you came on his tongue.

Three weeks in: he told you he loved you. Voice cracked. Knees on the floor. Eyes wet.

“I know it’s early, and I—I know I’m not cool or experienced like other guys, but… I’m yours. I want to be yours. Just—please let me love you.”

Now?

He goes to class with your panties in his pocket like a fucking talisman.

He asks to eat you out before every study session. Says it helps him focus.

“You’re my priority. Everything else can wait.”

He kneels between your legs like it’s his religion, mumbling your name like a prayer with his mouth soaked and chin glistening. And when he looks up at you with those flushed cheeks, tearful eyes, and swollen lips, the only thing he ever wants to hear is:

“Good boy, Taki. Just like that.”

Your sweet soft simp boyfriend Taki who is, surprisingly, so good in bed.

This man has studied the female orgasm like it’s his major. He knows anatomy. He knows rhythm. He knows what turns you on because he pays attention. He keeps mental notes of what makes your thighs shake, what noises you make in each position, how long it takes before your legs start twitching when he fingers you with that exact angle.

“Your body’s so responsive. Do you know how easy it is to read you? You’re practically begging me to ruin you.”

Still soft-spoken… but filthy.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, kissing your neck gently, and then his hand slides under your panties like it belongs there. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

He’s still your sweet nerd boyfriend, but he gets off on taking control, especially when you least expect it.

Loves praising and degrading you in the same breath. “You’re so perfect. So smart. And so goddamn slutty for me, aren’t you?”

His hips know exactly what to do.

Slow at first. Deep strokes that make you feel every inch of him. One hand on your hip to hold you still, the other on your throat, not squeezing, just owning you.

“That’s it. Take it. You wanted this, right?”

Knows how to angle his thrusts to hit that spot inside you that makes your back arch. He’ll whisper the filthiest things in your ear, lips brushing your skin while you fall apart beneath him.

Positions? He’s mastered them.

Cowgirl so he can watch your tits bounce and help you ride. One hand guiding your hips, the other rubbing tight circles on your clit while he murmurs, “You look so fucking good like this, baby. You’re doing so well.”

Mating press when he wants to ruin you. Sweaty, shaky, deep and messy. Eyes locked on yours while he pounds into you, holding your wrists down with trembling fingers.

Spooning for soft mornings when he just wants to wake you up with lazy strokes and sleepy kisses. Still somehow knows exactly when to thrust deeper, when to stop and tease, when to speed up until you’re gasping his name.

Your sweet boyfriend Taki who is obsessed with filling you with his seed, or just spilling it all over you.

“Don’t clean it up yet,” he whispers, pressing kisses to your neck. “I just want to look at it. Want to see you full of me.”

“You’re mine. My pretty girl, stuffed full of me.”

He’s so soft but he’s so nasty about it. He kisses your inner thighs while your pussy is still leaking, then pushes it back in with two fingers just to watch it spill out again.

And your face? His favorite view.

It doesn’t happen all the time, but when you’re both worked up, when you’re looking up at him with those eyes, tongue out, waiting for him to finish? He loses it.

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck—your face, baby, you’re so pretty like this—taking it so well for me, just for me.”

He paints your cheeks, your lips, your tongue, shaking from how hard he comes, groaning your name like a prayer.

He apologizes after… but only a little.

“I’m sorry, was that too much? You just looked so good and I couldn’t stop myself…”

Then he starts rubbing your thighs again and mutters, “Can I do it again? You look even hotter messy.”

Your sweet, simp boyfriend Taki who can’t stop talking about you.

He brings you up in every conversation.

“Oh yeah, that lecture was interesting—hey, did I tell you my girlfriend wears my glasses sometimes? She looks so hot in them, I swear I almost passed out.”

Literally can’t go five minutes without mentioning you. His friends are like, “We get it, bro. She’s hot.” But he just smiles like an idiot and keeps going.

“She’s just… everything.”

He’ll go from sweet to dirty in one breath. “She’s so smart. Like, intimidatingly smart. And her thighs? Jesus. You have no idea.”

“She wore that skirt today, and I could barely focus—I mean, not that I’m just looking at her body or anything, but like, fuck. Have you seen her legs? Her hips?? The way she bites her lip???”

He’s accidentally filthy. All the time.

“I swear her moans echo in my head during class.”

“I got no sleep last night, but it’s worth it. She kept riding me like she was trying to kill me or something. Honestly? Best way to die.”

“She sat on my face for like 20 minutes straight. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to.”

He objectifies you lovingly.

It’s not gross, it’s adoring. He can’t help but talk about how sexy you are, but he also worships you in every way. He brags about your brains, your laugh, how you snort when you laugh too hard. But he also can’t shut up about your tits.

“She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And she’s mine. Can you believe that? Mine.”

He tells his friends how you ride him like you’re in charge, but also how you melt when he takes control. He knows everything about you, and he cherishes it all.

He sends pics to the groupchat. Of your clothes.

Like, a photo of your skirt on his floor. Or a hickey on his neck. He doesn’t even say anything, just drops it in and waits for the chaos.

“Guess who ruined me last night. Again.”

And you? You love it.

You love how obsessed he is. You love hearing that he tells everyone you’re perfect. That he brags about how good you are in bed and how hard he works to please you.

And when he comes home flustered, shyly mumbling, “I maybe overshared again…” you just giggle and climb into his lap, whispering, “Then make it worth bragging about, baby.”

He’s the softest nerd… but secretly possessive.

He gets off on people knowing you’re together. Wears your lip gloss smudges on his collar like a badge of honor. Leaves hickeys in visible places, your neck, your inner thighs peeking out from your skirt, just subtle enough to look “accidental.”

“You looked so pretty walking around like that. Like a walking reminder that you’re mine.”

He lives to brag, but he wants people to see it too.

He’ll grip your waist a little too tight when you’re talking to another guy. He’s sweet about it, still smiling, still polite, but his hand slides lower until he’s almost touching your ass.

Kisses you stupid right in front of his friends. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. She’s just too perfect.”

Public teasing is his favorite form of torture.

He’s shy in theory, but when he gets going? Ohhh he’s filthy. Like the day he slipped the remote-controlled vibrator into you before your class and said, “Be good, baby. Don’t make too much noise. Or maybe… do.”

He spends the whole lecture watching you from a few rows back, glasses on, biting his pen, discreetly pressing the button every time you shift in your seat.

You glare over your shoulder, and he just smirks like the evil little nerd he is.

He loves when you fall apart somewhere you shouldn’t.

Bathroom stalls. Study rooms. The back of the library.

“Quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone knowing what I’m doing to you… or maybe you do?”

He’ll finger you under the desk while you’re taking notes and whisper, “Come for me like a good girl, and I’ll let you ride me when we get home.”

He gets off on the risk.

Not full-on exhibitionism, he just wants to push boundaries. Wants the risk of getting caught. Wants to see how far you’ll let him go.

“You’re so obedient for me. I tell you to wear my vibrator to class, and you do it without question. Good girl.”

Has a whole folder in his phone of candids he took of you. Not even dirty ones, just you laughing, reading, sleeping. He gets off to those, too. “You’re just so perfect, I couldn’t help it… I-I know it’s creepy, I’m sorry…”

Buys you cute stuff constantly. Nerdy matching outfits. Sex toys. Personalized notebooks.

He’s just so, so obsessed with you because, how could a girl like you fall for him? He needs to make sure you stay with him forever, he could never let you go.

[insomniac4000]

can you do a fic about chris x reader, where sharon meets reader for the first time on maybe like see it off with becky and reader and sharon both start telling their steamy stories with Chris to kinda one up each other

See It Off. ChrisMD

Hope you don't mind, I couldn't write Shannon mean! So I just had them swap stories and bond.

It was still difficult for you to comprehend you were in demand and people wanted you on their shows and Podcasts. You had only been doing Youtuber for fifteen months, but things had exploded very quickly in that time. You did travel but also you did book reviews; people loved you for your honesty and laid back attitude. One person who fell for it in particular was ChrisMD. The pair of you had meet at a Youtuber’s conference eight months ago and after a couple of months of texting Chris finally bit the bullet and asked you out for a drink, neither of you had looked back since. Recently, after six months of dating you had gone public you had your reservations but on the whole it had gone well. You had slowly been bought into the larger UK Youtube scene over the past month or so and now Becky had asked you to go on see it off.

Originally Becky had asked both you and Chris to go on together. He unwaveringly refused “Look what happened last time I went on that show! Nope I’ve grown to like you and I want to keep you,” Chris commented.

Of course he was referring to the fact that when him and Shannon appeared together they broke up the very next day.

Shannon.

When the message came through from Becky that she had a great idea if Chris couldn’t make you never thought you would read the words Shannon. She wanted both of you to appear together, said it would be a “laugh.”

You had met Shannon twice, once before Chris and you had got together at an event and once afterwards at Becky’s birthday party. She was nothing but kind and gracious, Chris having spoken about you to her a lot. This was on another level though, it rattled you a little but after some assurances from Becky that Shannon was on board and it would be fun you agreed.

“Hello lovely!” Becky’s wonderful sing song Welsh voice rang out the studio. You smiled nervously and gave her a hug.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good how are you? Welcome to my pub!” Becky exclaimed, you smiled and looked around the place, the bar was incredibly well stocked and up on a bar stool already was Shannon, a glass of wine in front of her. She smiled warmly at you and waved, you sent a polite smile back but felt the nerves bubbling inside you.

“Want a pre drink?” Becky asked, you nodded silently and followed her to the bar area as Shannon poured a third glass of wine, this one was yours.

“Before we start I just wanted to ask if there was anything maybe you were uncomfortable with talking about? I’d hate for this to be awkward so just wanted to lay stuff down first?” Shannon suggested. You nodded.

“Chris and I agreed we’d talk about some stuff but keep a lot of it under wraps. I don’t know how I’ll feel after a couple of drinks though,” you smile and Shannon and Becky giggled.

You made some small talk but soon the cameras were rolling, hair and make up was touched up a little bit and it was go time.

“Hello and welcome back to see if off with strong questions and even stronger drinks! Today we have a treat for you as we have two beautiful babes with me today in Shannon and Y/N!” The three of you started clapping.

“The pair of you ready to drink?” Becky asked with a small smile.

“Well we’ve already started,” you replied with a smile causing the other two to giggle.

The premise of the video was simple, if you hesitate answering a question you drink. Things started off quite lightly, talking about videos and then it moved onto people you had met that you didn’t really like or click with very much. Both you and Shan had hesitated a little bit with it so you both had to drink a rum and coke.

Then the inevitable happened.

“So obviously you two have something in common or should I say someone in common, a certain Christopher Dixon also known as ChrisMD so I would like to know what has been your favourite date from the little hobbit.” You and Shannon looked at each other and shared a smirk which counted as a hesitation meaning you both needed to drink, it was wine again this time.

“Not a date as such but we went to Iceland and it honestly to this day is my favourite holiday.” Shannon answered while you thought of your answer.

“Probably my birthday a couple of weeks ago. He took me to my favourite play and Chris is not a musicals guy at all but sat through it for me and took me to this restaurant that I talked about once and mentioned it was my favourite meal so booked it for us. He often says he has a terrible memory and that’s true to some extent,” you started and Shannon nodded in agreement, you continued. “But he remembers the things that really matter and is thoughtful.”

“He is, he is always on his phone and it can drive you mad but you realise he’s just jotting things down so he doesn’t forget them later,” Shannon added.

“Okay, next question have you two ever compared notes?” Becky asked, a wide and sly grin on her face. You looked at Shannon again and bit your bottom lip slightly. In the time between Shannon and yourself Chris had made a bit of a reputation for himself for his bedroom antics and you had to admit you were a very happy customer. Part of you had wondered if he was naturally gifted or if it came with experience.

“Not yet,” Shannon’s response caused you to almost choke on your drink, you coughed.

“Is that what you do in the bedroom too?” Becky asked at your choking, the three of your then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“He prefers the other way,” you replied now feeling bold from all the drinks you had consumed.

“Oh absolutely!” Shannon agreed and the pair of you giggled again.

“You know I can see that the dirty little boy!” Becky added raising her glass , the three women then clinked their glasses laughing between each other and took a sip. The video now became more about the drinking then playing the game.

“So his top shagger status is true then?” Becky asked, it wasn’t one of the questions he had on the card she just wanted to have a bit of a gossip now.

“I mean I never had any complaints even at the time.” Shannon smiled.

“He’s very giving,” you added sipping your drink once more.

“Oh absolutely, he puts other people’s needs before his own. I think he’s always been that way.”

“And he’ll try another once,” you spoke again.

Becky just sat in her way the biggest shit eating grin on her face as you and Shannon continued to bond over Chris’s bedroom adventures.

Eventually the conversation moved to other things but Becky was safe in the knowledge that this would be a good video.

You didn’t tell Chris too much about what had said, he did notice how tipsy you were and you told him that you and Shannon had a good time and you completely understood why he fell for her because she was beautiful and sweet but not much beyond that. You told him his name came up “a couple of times” but he didn’t know how much until the video was  released a couple of weeks later.

He watched it.

Of course he watched it, he was a curious little kitty and when he watched it, it almost killed him. You had to admit you couldn’t remember everything you said that day and you didn’t know what made the edit. Chris was at home, watching it with George which was a massive mistake as he already had lots of ideas on how to make content out of it already. You were filming but the pair of you had already made plans to meet up for dinner that night at your favourite ramen place. Chris was already there which was slightly unusual, sitting down at a booth. You walked over and indicated to the server that you were with someone and sat down opposite him.

“Hey you.” You gave him your usual greeting.

“So, youtube now know I love eating out and my dick leans slightly to the left,” he replied. He tried to look pissed off but he had that mischievous glint in his eye.

“We were complimentary too…” you tailed off, hoping the waiter would come over soon with a drink order. A big one.”

“Yeah. Four times in one day compared to her three and the hour session,” he replied this time his smile growing on his face.

“If I apologise and promise never to do it again will you agree to never take all those things away from me,” you suggested, genuinely looking remorseful.

“Fine. But next time you and Shan bond please don’t let it be on camera.”

You smiled. “Deal.”

[samicakes-exe]

Hi, I loved the hatefucking jtk fic and I was wondering if you could do a part 2 where maybe he is jealous about something happening between the reader and someone else and he "reminds" the reader who she belongs to; or maybe into a crazy discussion jeff throatfuck the reader ( I'm sorry for being a lewd bitch and my lack in fantasy but your writing is so well done and is my first time requesting someone so feel free to consider or not my request :3 ) take care <3

AHHH! I am so happy that I am ur first request! and I hope that I make you proud hun! Also Dont apologize for being a lewd bitch! Lewd bitches are welcomed here!!! am very excited to make the Jeff fic into a little series! so without further ado here is the fic! going to start these specific type of fics with the title!

OKAY SO I MAY HAVE STORED THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY- um so imma just release it without editing it sooooo sorry to the jeff fuckers i’ll get better food to you soon pls 🧎‍♀️

words:

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʜᴜʀᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ? <3

(throat-fucking version!)

warning: Jealous toxic toxic Jeff. Roughness, dub-con???? probs dub-con im so sorry (maybe non-con i dunno i wanna make sure!!), a little bit of angst, tears, Public like you could get caught, throat-fucking, Jeff pushes your head. Afab reader, use of feminine pet names, only Jeff getting off. V toxic, Jeff is sweet at the end???, light aftercare, arguing/fighting, Barely edited rip

ℚ����𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕝𝕚𝕝 𝔹𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨:

Jeff is a man of many words (mostly insults) BUT my boy shuts up when his feelings are hurt.

You two's relationship is complicated.

Not quite boyfriend and girlfriend but also not only fuck buddies.

He feels entitled to you.

Sooo seeing you flirt with any other guy in the house sends him over the edge.

He wont confront you out right since he doesn't want anyone else in the house knowing he stands you.

So usually he grabs you when the others are busy- taking you off to a secret corner to have some fun

or HE WILL IGNORE YOU FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!

honestly it's a 50/50 chance

Tonight wasn't any different to the small hang outs the creeps occasionally do:

Tim and Brian managed to get their hands on some cases of beer.

BEN is playing music from his "perfected" party playlist

and everyone is having a good time!

except Jeff :(

He's watching you closely from across the living room, his grip on the red solo cup was tight.

You were in the corner with EJ, talking about whatever.

It didn't matter to him.

The lingering touches of Jack's arms.

How you stared up at him, batting your eyes.

How your giggles lasted a little while longer

You couldnt stop smiling

He hated it

He watched EJ slipped away and went over to grab another beer So Jeff made his way to you.

You weren't aware of him until he had his hand wrapped around your arm and roughly pulling you away.

★★★

𝕆𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥!!!

The crowd was thinning out leaving red solo cups littering the floor. The music still pumped from a small speaker resting up on a bookshelf. There was BEN and LJ still hanging around near the drinks. A couple of other creeps spread out between you and Jeff.

He's kept an eye on you the entire night but now paying closer attention, You were curled up in the corner of the living room with Eyeless Jack close by chatting among yourselves with the same cheap beer in hand.

It put a sour taste in Jeff's mouth.

It was clockwork with every assumed joke, you giggled and playfully touched his arm and it lingered there before falling to your side. Jeff's jaw clenched, teeth pressing against teeth tightly.

Another joke and you were touching him again. This time on his upper arm, a smile stretched wide across your face as you nodded your excited agreement to whatever he said. Jeff couldn't hear over the music playing but the pit in his stomach grew with how long the touch was. He counted the seconds with how tense his jaw gotten by the time your hand dropped back to your side, it was clicking.

Jeff put the cup to his lips and swallowed the last bit of beer, swishing around in his mouth beforehand.

The solo cup ended up being tossed on the couch with a collection of others.

He couldn't pull his eyes away from you for long, watching how innocently you were batting your eyes up at EJ, leaning ever so closer when he spoke.

Whenever Eyeless Jack pulled away however, excusing himself to grab another lukewarm beer. A small pout pulled at the ends of your lips watching him now leave and talk with both LJ and BEN.

At the moment with the rest of the creeps distracted, Jeff strolled up to you and without a word he pulled you by the arm to the hallway.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He asked, keeping his voice hushed.

"What do you mean what I'm doing?" You asked mimicking the same tone as he was.

"Trying to fuck Jack." He said pointedly.

"Trying to... fuck.. Jack" You repeated it slowly, blinking blankly each time. "I can't have friends now?"

"Y/N Fuck off with that friends bullshit."

"Jeff we're not together." You reminded him. He was slowly starting to get on your nerves now, he always worked you up like this no matter what.

Jeff's squeezed his jaw tight, you were right and how he fucking hated it.

"Knees."

"Excuse me?"

"On your knees now, Y/N"

"As if Jeff... You know you're a real piece of wor-" You were cut off by him shoving you down, your knees buried in the itchy carpet.

"Shut up." He ordered, he wound your hair in his fist pulling it back to force eye contact. "We might not be together but I'm the only one that fucks you, got it?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

"Already did doll, so has every other guy in the house apparently."

You rolled your eyes but stayed on your knees. The bickering starting a warmth between your thighs which made you stay put right where you were. You watched him look around over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before his free hand went to his dress pants and fumbled around with the zipper.

You couldnt help but to giggle under your breath which made him yank your hair back.

"Shut up." Despite being a whisper his tone was harsh. With enough effort he finally pulled his hardening cock out of his jeans. "And open that pretty little mouth for me."

You stared up at him with your mouth shut tight and a cocky smile that pulled on your lips. You innocently bat your eyelashes up at him, watching his eyes narrowed.

"I'll make you." He threatened, his grip on your hair got tighter, the nails of his ever so slightly digging into your scalp.

You stayed staring up at him with your mouth tightly shut.

"I warned you." He muttered, a hand of his going and plugging your nose tightly.

Your eyes flew opened and you tried to keep your mouth shut for the longest time but you felt a deep burn build up to your lungs. Holding it in was making the burn climb up your throat. Finally you gave in, opening your mouth and taking the first greedy breath in.

"Good girl." Jeff chimed, and he quickly pushed his cock into your open mouth, pushing about halfway in. "Was that so hard?"

You looked up at him with your eyes narrowed and he reqarded your mean stare with another shallow thrust of his hips. He leaned his head back and moaned softly, forcing your mouth deeper on his cock.

You placed both hands on his thighs while gagging around his cock, eyes watering up when he hit the back of your throat with one deep push of his hips.

He looked back down at you, seeing how red your face has gotten only spurred him on, He quickened his thrusts into your mouth leaving you sitting and drooling all over his cock.

"God Doll." He moaned, pushing your head to meet with his thrusts. "I forgive you~ I forgive you~" He whispered cocky sorrys while he filled your throat.

He watched you drool on his cock, face red and a couple of tears cutting a cold line in them. You dug your nails into his thighs while you held on.

He wasn't going to last long, not that he cared.

"Oh fuck!" He whined out softly, now struggling to keep his voice low. He fucked your mouth faster, holding onto your head with both hands as he was nearing his release. He whispered out many intelligible praises and curses. "Cumming!" He grunted out.

With one final thrust deep in your throat he finally came, letting out soft moans as he gently pumped your mouth to make sure you had every last drop. Soon he pulled out, looking down at you. A cocky smile against his carved one.

"Was i to rough on you doll?" He asked, shoving himself back into his pants and zipping up before leaning down and offering you a hand.

You took it and he pulled you up. "No.. Could warn me next time." You laughed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

[glowinthedarkjellyfish]

Idk how to tag polls I’ve done but this is going to be derived from rhe poll on my last post where gymnast!daughter gets almost kidnapped at a gala and Jason who won the poll will save her.

I will do another part with other characters in the same situation but I have exams tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, two days after tomorrow (😰😭) basically all of this week and then some next week and some the week after so I’ve got a lot of stuff to do and my tumblr hasn’t been a priority BUT, near mid June my exams r done then I don’t have school so I’ll be good by then( I should be but I don’t actually know my timetable after the 15th so idk atp)

Anyway, this fic shall commence.

Also I’m going to be writing from gymnastics!daughters view so yall can read this as an x reader insert because they are butt(lol Alfred the buttler w 2xts) I always write as gymnast!daughter instead of x gymnast!reader so yeah. Also as you can probably tell I write for fem reader but I can definitely do gn!readers or m!reader so lmk if you have any specific requests for that or anything as I’d probably be able to write that quicker than just thinking stuff up :)) enjoy the fic.

Gymnast!daughters POV or reader POV u choose

Being a Wayne is actually nicer than the rest of the family maie it out to be. Dick hates galas, Stephanie would rather read creppypastas and watch YouTube horror documentaries from 2010 and everyone else just always complains whenever we have to attend one.

They all say it’s the worst part about being part of the Wayne family.

I personally think it’s like second or third best. First best is definitely having a Dad who’s actually invested in your life and second is also having siblings, adopted and biological.

But loving attending these galas doesn’t mean I love everything that happens at them.

Right now is a perfect example.

I would like to paint you all a picture, one from 3 hours ago.

I had arrived at the Gala with Dad, Damian, Duke, Tim and Stephanie. Dick had ‘police duty’ yeah as if, he and Babs were too busy making out in the comms room, he’s not slick we all know he isn’t actually working. Well, if you considering the chance he might actually help Babs with comms then yeah maybe you could say he’s working.

Cass and Jason are undercover tonight, Dad said there was a possible gang ring happening under this guys mansion and that Cass and Jason would be investigating as “private security” to see if they found anything suspicious. This is another reason why Dick was with Babs tonight, this place was huge. It wasn’t as big as the manor but this guys estate was still impressive there were like 3 outhouses à tennis court, golf lanes and a pool. Don’t forget the greenhouse gazebo thing outside aswell.

This guy, whilst not on Dads level was still minted.

Which bring us to my next point.

Ever since being officially indoctrinated into the Wayne family to the public eye and being announced as Bruce’s biological daughter who he never knew he had ( big fat L imo) I have been in the public eye.

I mean not only for that, I’ve been known as Bruce’s daughter for like 4 years now so the excitement of that had worn down a bit and I am part of the US national gymnastics team and will be competing at the summer Olympics so… yeah that ain’t the only reason I’m popular but it does make me known as Bruce’s spoiled daughter.

I mean he did renovate my teams gym and spent a shit ton of money on expanding it and getting private coaches, but I wouldn’t say I’m spoiled, I just get treated well.

But you can see why people believe that my Dad would spend a shit ton of money on me, even millions, because he has, and does so I can’t really blame them for thinking that.

Who might they be?

The people who are holding me random right now.

Tonight is not my night.

I mean it lowkey is as my dress is gorgeous, face and hair too but being kidnapped kind of puts that in perspective and makes you think wow, my luck is shitty.

Which right, now it is.

So quick recap of how rhe heck this happened.

I arrived at the gala family in tow.

Me and Bruce go around socialising with the other guests as the rest of my siblings are recluses who don’t like fancy parties. Spoiler(yes pun intended) alert I do!!

So I’m busy chatting with some fellow Gothamites, some teens my age who aren’t as snobby as they are at school.

Private school is the ultimate snob fest for the rich heirs and heiresses of Gotham but when you attend à Gala, it’s a Snob fest for your parents so you get to chill and acrually speak with the kids your age in à civilised manner.

I was just chit chatting with some of my friends whilst Dad tried making business deals either their parents to buy their company when I needed the bathroom.

So, like any normal person would, I say “I need to use the bathroom, excuse me I’ll be 5 minutes” I don’t just walk away mid conversation snd I don’t just piss myself right where I stand, I excuse myself then I leave.

I passed Dad on the way so I said à quick hi then told him where I was going.

It was upon entering rhe hallway that my fate was sealed.

So the gala started around 3 hours ago and I went to the bathroom maybe an hour ago or 45 minutes? I’m not sure but somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour and a half ago.

I can’t tell my watch has been removed from my body.

Anyways, as I was saying, as soon as I entered the hallway and was out of sight from the main ballroom where the gala was happening light go out.

Not in the hallway, in me.

Something pricked my arm and then boom or not really boom since the lights didnt explode when everything went black but like, tstststs like sizzling water when it touches à hot stovetop.

That brings me to right now.

So I’m in this dirty grungy ugly ass broke as shit looking basement, and I’m in a prison cell.

Then this guy with a really weird red mask just walks up snd tells me they’ve tooken all my jewellery as personal compensation and some other stuff from me, but that if I want out then the “big boss” expects me to call my dad and say that either he pays a 50 million dollar ransom or they but à bullet between my eyes.

😀

You can see why I’m not happy right now.

So I’m getting threatens with death but then, I realise this could be a trap.

For some reason Gothamites believe my Dad is associated with Batman, they think that my Dad finds his equipment and everything in exchange for protection.

They’re so close I can’t decide if I want to cry or scream.

So this gang will have kidnapped me in the hopes of either Sad sending them 50 million or, dad sending batman & co.

I’m pretty sure this was probably a trap.

Which is why I call Babs.

She can access everyone’s comms although she’s probably already found me I need to go along with these guys.

This is where things got funny.

So I had the phone and called Babs.

She didn’t pick up, so I called Dick since they’re supposed to be right next to each other.

He doesn’t either.

I decide you know what, Tim should pick up.

🤡

I know I said this is where things got funny but really it was just embarrassing for me.

I know I should probably of called Dad by now but i had a plan.

Damian always answers my phone, so I called him snd he did actually pick up.

“Hello, why are you calling me?”

Right now I was dumbfounded because hellooooo I’ve been gone for ages?!?

No.

“Well I’ve been kidnapped and am currently being held at gun point by the people in the old guys basement and have been missing for like 45 minutes?? Why else would I call”

I want to say that this was a major aura loss.

I could hear D breath in sharply across the line.

You would think he’d say something like, I’ll inform father immediately and get Babs to track your location, seeing as he sounded so shocked at me being missing but no.

“You haven’t been gone for 45 minutes, you walked away 6 minutes and 47 seconds ago”

…

The woman was too stunned to speak.

“But I shall inform father snd have him send Todd and Cass down.”

Well there was no need for that as the basement door broke open and shits were fired, right into my kidnappers knee caps.

“No need D, either Jason and Cass were keeping an eye one me and noticed or someone else is shooting up this place.”

“Well I will still tell father, Duke js on his way to a more private place sk people don’t notice him searching for you and Tim has already informed Barbara and Dick, Stephanie is on her way to tell father right now I believe, well that or she’s headed back to the bouffet”

Sk I wasn’t really paying attention ti the door or my captors anymore but when some bitch decided ti steal my phone I did look up. And also not some bitch, Jason.

“No need gremlin me and Cass just got here, the big boss got out but get babs or Tim to track him, we’ll get her back upstairs”

As much as Jason annoys me at times I was really great full for him at this point because I was getting quite dizzy and for some reason all rhe colours in the room got super saturated and bright all of a sudden.

“ hey J, thanks for this but um I don’t feel too good”

And then my head hit the wall,

Pow.

Next I woke up I was back in my room.

Which was nicer than waking up in a dingy cold cell and feeling like I had been gone for 45 minutes but it only being 5 but there’s a reason for that.

When I passed out Jason and Cass brought me back to the Gala and them in their vigilante gear pretended to not know Bruce snd then just handed me over and told him I should see a doctor, so naturally the gala had kind of ended by then, especially since Damian wasn’t discreet whatsoever when he told dad I had been kidnapped.

Yeah, everyone knew I was missing before Jason and Cass brought me to the ballroom.

So Dad took me and Alfred drove me and the rest of the family home.

Which was like 4 days ago.

And it turns out I was injected with à weird drug that slows your brain down but is supposed to make it speed back up after so it kind of frys it. However since I was only out for 5 minutes and I passed out the drugs made it feel like 45 minutes and didnt have time to speed my brain up.

So my brain hasn’t been fried.

My fave however is on nearly every tabloid in Gotham.

Which isn’t unusual but under these circumstances it is.

Jason barged I ti my room at this point.

“ hey bendy ( I feel like that’s a fun nickname since she’s a gymnast and they bend a lot ) how’s your brain going?”

I haven’t decided if I hate Jason’s nicknames but he’s been calling me bendy for years now so it’s too late if I hate it.

“Alright, it isn’t fried yet sk that’s a plus side”

“Yeah but I bet you it’ll be hurting like a bitch”

That was very true, whilst I don’t really swear much hurting like a hitch is a very acute description of my condition.

“ well I can’t lie and say it doesn’t”

That got me a laugh out of him.

“Well rest up B tracked down the ringleader and hes behind bars but this guy has diplomatic immunity or something so he’s getting a trial but he says he still wants you to get out of bed in a couple of days for your graduation”

So I had forgotten about that but, yeah high school graduation is like in a weeks time. But at least dad isn’t making me get out of bed just yet, I can sleep all day today and then have dinner then pull an all nighter.

Sounds like a plan.

“Yeah don’t worry J I’ll probably just watch TV and then come down later for supper or for whenever I get hungry”

With that he patted my head and messed up my already messed up hair and left my room, he did however leak my door closed as he isn’t evil.

After all that I binge watched some episode of gumball, suits? Wwdits in no particular order then I checked my calendar for my next gala.

2 weeks, eh I’ll be up by then.

Alfred called me down later for dinner which was amazing he made shrimp pasta wich I loved.

We all ate and talked a little bit but before I went back home to bed Dsd hugged me snd told me that he’d start training me in martial arts that way if something like this ever happened again, wich given who I am it probably would, so that I could defend myself better and maybe one day if I wanted I could join him in defending others.

Which I agreed to but do regret seeing as I’ll be training tomorrow afternoon.

Wich means I’ll have to get up before 3.

But oh well. Life throws lemons and bricks at you so you need to be prepared for whichever hits you first.

[niexigo]

I gotta bunch of Hazbin fic/au ideas in my head. I doubt I'd do any of them, but I'd like to share for others to try.

1: if alastor actually joined the Vees, he'd have to adapt to the present tech and not just stay a radio host.

This is the thought that if Al accepted Vox's invitation to the Vee's, Vox would either encourage, or make alastor upgrade to the current technology.

Alastor would still be his show-y self, but he'd be way more modern. Basically just a clone of Vox if he was less pathetic. (joking, love my flat faced Prince)

This could just be another radiostatic/radiosilence fic, though I like the thought of a twist, with alastor actually hating this, and eventually having a massive brake down. Him never saying/doing anything because he was either in to deep already, or because his soul was owned, and couldn't do anything if he wanted to.

Also because I picture Vox as a clingy bastard, Vox would basically make alastor do everything with him. Maybe it's just at the beginning, but now they're more of a duo then individual single overlords.

Going more in detail, While Vox would still be in charge of making tech while also being a talk show host and things like that, Al would be more public eye media. Not just radio, but TV and live streams as well. To make it make sense, velvet would be social media, apps and things like that, while Vox and Al would be more TV. The difference is like Youtube and Cable. You know which generation watched more of the other. Though in this, Vox would be more in the background, working on technical stuff, while Al would be more limelight, actually on screen and things like that. Idk, does that make sense? He'd basically be Vox's show pony.

This could also be included with Vox’s whole cult thing. I’ve heard that Vox was a cult leader (televangelist specifically) when he was alive, so maybe he’d make Al join that somehow as well.

I do kinda seeing the two doing everything on and off screen together. Maybe not happily, at least on Al’s side, but they’d do it because 1: Vox was the one who invited Alastor in the first place, 2: Vox is basically Al’s only “friend” out of the Vee’s, and 3: Vox is a clingy bastard. (JkJk)

I’m writing this like I could be a fic, but what got me more excited about those would be Alastor’s new design. He couldn’t just be himself, as he’s already adapted this much, a new outfit would be the bare minimum. Probably a new name too, but but ya know. I couldn’t draw it (I can barely draw the man as it is), but ya know. Maybe throw in some blue or black in there, all the Vee’s have a secondary color with their red/pink, so Al should not be all red.

If this was a fic, I’d love to see it. I definitely couldn’t write it, as I’m more into romance and think this is too technical for me, I’d think I’d be good. I still have bunch of ideas about this, so if you want more, ask.

I know this isn’t a particularly new idea, but I wanted to share my take on it. Idk, maybe my take isn’t that original though. While this was inspired by other take on if Alastor joined the Vee’s, it skyrocketed after listening to “Count the Ways” by Dheusta. I know that it’s a fnaf song, but his impression of Funtime Freddy just reminded me of Alastor’s aura, just a bit more tech-y.

Anyway, I got two more ideas after this. All Vox/Alastor based (can you tell they’re my favorite), but I can’t share them here pre else this will be too long. I’ll show them later, but this is it for now.

[gerardwayissexah]

20 fic author questions nobody asked me

Sorry if this comes off as overly self-indulgent, when I’m not nearly popular enough as a writer for people to ask me stuff like this. But it’s my platform…so yeah. :) The list of questions is not mine. It’s one of several lists of fic author questions that’s made the rounds on Tumblr and I have no idea who created this one. If you made the list and would like credit, just let me know!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I’m at 39, last I checked.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

This one’s a point of pride and embarrassment, in equal amounts. I’ve posted 360,000+ words since late 2022. I have over 100,000 words of fic that’s written, but hasn’t made it to publication yet.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, Naruto and others, when I participate in multi fandom fic exchanges.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

“Bird in a Gilded Cage” — Neji x Original Hyuga character romance and family drama. I should say this one skews the statistics because it has so many more chapters than anything else I’ve posted.

2. “Walk You Home” — short, fluffy SasuSaku oneshot set during part 1 of Naruto.

3. “These Hollow Vows” — short multi-chapter Neji x Tenten, smut with plot. Again, I think the chapter count skews the raw statistics.

4. “The Ultimate Defense” — short multi-chapter NejiTen set before, during and after the chunin exams.

5. “Between the Lines” — NejiTen smut oneshot with a heavy helping of angst.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not?

Always, unless it’s a flamer. I have few enough comments (0-5 per week) that I can afford to answer every one with at least a “thank you!” I know getting responses from authors encourages me to comment, and I want to thank my readers for choosing my stories when there’s so many out there. Especially those who keep coming back.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?.

I don’t do outright unhappy endings. I’d say the ending to the Neji joins the Akatsuki AU I started will be rather angsty. As for stories I’ve already published, the ending to “Wildflowers for Hinata” has a good bit of unresolved familial angst, but things are trending in a good direction for the characters.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

“These Hollow Vows” has a pretty standard storybook ending with Neji and Tenten married in all but name, with a child. There’s no bittersweetness or lingering angst in that ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Outright hate? Nothing recently. I had one anonymous flamer who made me cry when I was 13. Sorry my fic gave you AIDS but stopping was always an option, friend.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, but it’s only around 1/3 of what I write and post. I exclusively write M/F, without any hard kinks. Most of what I’ve written is Neji x Tenten (Naruto). I like writing scenes in the context of romantic relationships, or showing the love and trust between characters. I’m not interested in writing smut without feelings.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, and I’ve never written one. I do think Sasuke Uchiha and Arya Stark would make a good crossover crack ship.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully never!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Never, but anyone can feel free. It would be a huge honor if it ever happens!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I’m not sure I’d be a great co-writer. I’m too protective of my own style and I have very set ideas of how some characters would behave.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

The first ship I ever passionately loved was Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter. I was a weird kid who had few friends (shocker, I know), so I liked the idea of two losers finding love and acceptance with each other. Unfortunately for me, the ship has never been all that popular — too vanilla, perhaps? I’m not into Harry Potter much anymore, but maybe I’ll write it one day.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I’m not going to count myself out yet. I’m working on them all, slowly in some cases, but I don’t let myself start new fics if I have too many outstanding WIPs. Edit: I totally forgot about the Rock Lee harem fic I wrote 2,000 words of, before the cringe got too bad and I never finished! It was pure crack about Lee receiving a pair of leg weights that imbues him with infinite sexiness to all women.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Obviously “good writing” is highly subjective when it comes to fiction, but I’d probably say romance and family dynamics. I’d hope those are my strengths because I practice writing that kind of story the most, and I get to draw from personal experience when writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m not good with fight scenes and political intrigue in stories. High-concept worldbuilding also isn’t my forte. Too little smooching involved.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It’s jarring when I read it, and not something I incorporate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Hunger Games. It was a 300-ish word oneshot from the perspective of Foxface as she dies. I thought 300 words was such an epic amount — and now I’ve worked up to where I can write that amount in 15 minutes. Did she eat those berries by accident? Or maybe not? :0

20. Favourite fics you’ve written?

“Bird in a Gilded Cage” has a special place in my heart because it’s been my longest and most ambitious fic project to date. It’s also the first longfic I’ve finished.

[muffinpink02]

Hi, sorry if this is a bit of a weird, rambly or hard question to answer. I ask you as you're one of the writers I've been reading the longest and I have the absolute uttermost respect for, but please feel free to ignore it if you don't feel like answering.

I'm Autistic and Woso is my special interest, particularly the WSL. I used to write a bit of woso fic, but I copped a bit of hate on here for it so I took it all down. I considered perhaps posting on AO3 instead, but recently I've seen a lot of chatter about woso fic could be considered abusive to players, even just silly fluffy stuff, and now I feel all kinds of morally confused. I really enjoy reading lots of fics, and now I'm starting to feel like a bad person for doing so.

I really, really enjoy watching women's football, but if I'm being completely honest, I do enjoy watching certain players more now that I'm invested in various made-up stories about them. I would never, ever parlay that into any real-life situation or scenario, and I never talk to anyone in my real life about anything fan-fic related because I know that's taboo too. I lead a pretty lonely life, and this little community brings me a bit of joy, but I would hate to think that in doing so I'm being abusive to the very players I admire and respect so much?

Do you think fan-fic is or can be abusive to players? Is this something you've ever struggled with when writing or reading fic?

Thank you in advance xo

Hey! Okay, firstly I’m sorry that faceless bullies have managed to get in your head and make you stop doing something you enjoy doing.

I’ll just say this. Fuck them. These people genuinely have nothing better to do. I don’t know if it’s where I’m a bit older but fanfic has been going on for YEARS! I wouldn’t be surprised if you had people doing it in the early 80s on ‘Star Trek’ or whatever show was big back then. We’re not the first and we won’t be the last.

I completely get it, these are real people, and I definitely have had my doubts at the start, but also I know this is fiction, everything myself and others write is completely made up. The thing is once you get in the public eye you get fans in all shapes and sizes. If that’s fanfic, fan art, tiktok edits, or people that go to games and scream in the players faces. Or fans who only lift their head up to take a picture of a footballer, then go back on their phone for the rest of the match (I’ve seen that A LOT)

It’s a corner of the internet where people like to read stories wherever it be fluff, smut, angst and so on. It’s just a break from reality. It’s not that deep!

I don’t know if it’s because the woso’s fan base are quite young, that think they have some special bond with the footballers or think they should ‘protect them’ they probably shouldn’t be reading anything that’s 18 and above.

Don’t let these people put you down, because at the end of the day who the fuck are they? Do they pay your bills? No. These people aren’t worth your time or head space. They are irrelevant.

Also to your abusive question. No. I think it’s more abusive on spaces like Twitter and L chat. Some of the things I’ve seen written about players and their friends/ family are frankly disgusting. Also stalkers? That’s abuse.

I wonder if the writers who write about the men footballers get the same energy?

I think the footballers have a lot more to worry about then me or you writing up a fictional story about them. Who knows, maybe they read it? 🤸

Put your stories back up. Fuck those anons. Do what makes you happy!

[mymelodyisme]

3, 7 and 14 for the asks!! 😍

😭 I should have asked you more myself!! But I saw handwriting and went “I MUST have her write some of her FIC-“

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

So 🤔 this is kinda tricky cause we hardly rewatch films in my house cause 🙄 my mom and dad only like watching things once usually. But but but I DO share in common with my mom that I love rewatching:

Encanto

Tangled

Turning Red

I’ve certainly annoying my sisters recently with Turning Red 🤣 it’s really good background noise and fu bro watch. Encanto cause it’s good!!! But also I’m latina and also feel not special like Mirabel 😭 my sister first time we watched the movie said Luisa reminded her of me tho thanks for clocking the older sister energy I guess. And tangled because Rapunzel my favorite Disney princess ever 🥺

7. what scares you the most and why?

Oof here’s where we get ✨depressing✨

First do we mean spine tingling or deep rooted fear that stabs at your heart till it aches and pours out? Cause I could easily say something concrete like cockroaches (they make me cry and shake so quick) but if we’re talking in ouchie heart ache type of scares it’s becoming unwanted and an inconvenience 😭 I’ve felt like that a few times in my life and heck I’ve been feeling it especially hard lately. Just gotta take a deep sigh and keep going cause I’m gonna like me enough to want me to stay! Ya know! Also I’m scared of being in absolute darkness and I’m scared to be out at night :)

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

😭 kinda related back to the other question Owie, this one seems kind of ridiculous but it’s the simplest and most heart breaking for me. All of my wants have this same thing in common but this one is the most recent so ridiculous or not here you are.

Going for a walk.

I’m, frankly, scared of the unwanted attention that comes with being a fat person in public 😭 I mean realistically I know no one’s actually looking at me but I can’t help but feel they are. In PE I was always last to finish and the kids who were done early would cheer me on and they meant well but it always made me cry. For a bit I got a little braver about walking on the treadmill at the university but I’m out now and we don’t have one at home. I’ve been wanting to go walking to better myself because 🥺 I could be better but I’m really scared of going to the park. It’s on the other side of town, it’s bigger with more shade, but it’s next to our high school and there’s a bunch of houses and there’s no good time for me to talk out of my day to do this and I’d go for a walk but we don’t have sidewalks where I live and I don’t want to walk in the road and block someone from their driveway. It’s all excuses I guess but all in all I’m afraid of existing in other people’s spaces.

But but to end on something positive!!! 🤔 um I’m really proud of the way I’ve conquered my fear of driving. I’m still afraid of that and going long distances to places I don’t know but now I feel that I just gotta go it and I’ll get used to it. It helps that my car is cute and I have stuffed animals 😄 I actually don’t hate driving as much anymore I like going around town with the windows down letting the air mess up my hair.

♥️Questions♥️ (yall should go ask Libby too 🩷)

[cherryzz-pen]

AO3 UPDATE/UPDATE ABOUT MY WORKS

Hey everyone! I’ve got some news to share that I think is pretty good! Recently, the AI company that scraped AO3 to train its website has been permanently shut down. That means you can no longer access that data set. You can still check out the conversations and copyright reports, though.

What’s even better is that AO3’s data set, along with many other writing and art websites, is safe from their system now. So, what does this mean for my fanfic? Well, I’m seriously thinking about reopening it to the public! This way, both account holders and those without accounts can enjoy it again. I want to give it a month or two for everything to settle since it all seems a bit sudden and too good to be true.

I have to admit, and maybe this makes me sound like a cynic or rather paranoid. I don't see AI entirely out of the picture just yet, in fact, I don’t see it going anywhere anytime soon and I’d hate to reopen my fic only for something like this to happen again. Especially when by some stroke of luck my fic didn't get scrapped this go round. But on the bright side, I really do think this is great news for many of us writers!

It may not mean we’re entirely in the clear, but I genuinely want to make my work more accessible soon, and I’ll likely still keep cross-posting just to be safe. Thank you all for being so sweet and supportive on Tumblr! I appreciate each and every one of you! 💕

[fleurywiththesave]

For the ask game: ↻ FLIP FLOP for It’s the magical mystery kind (especially the reveal outside the bar at the allstar game / the ending from Leon‘s POV) please💙

YES I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THANK YOU!!! (here's the original fic)

(↻FLIP FLOP:send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV!)

Leon can’t seem to catch his breath in the bar. He was okay during the actual game, but now he feels hyper-aware of Matthew’s presence just a few tables away from where Leon’s sitting with Connor. He’s with his brother, drinking and laughing and apparently having a wonderful time. Which he should be. This is meant to be fun.

Connor has no idea – no one does, Leon’s managed to keep everything locked down tight – but he keeps asking Leon why he’s acting so squirrelly, until Leon finally gets fed up and steps outside to attempt a reset.

“Stop being weird,” he orders himself. It doesn’t help much. Or at all.

He’s not even entirely sure when it all started. It would be easy enough to say it was their first all-star game, but that’s not quite right. Maybe that’s when the Matthew switch in his head initially eased off of PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE, but the rest of it…it crept up on him. At some point during the Covid season, when they were playing each other constantly, Leon began to wish that he were the person making Matthew laugh, genuinely laugh, the way his teammates did. And he’s been suffering in silence ever since.

The past few months have been harder, he won’t pretend otherwise. It’s not like Leon ever made any progress on attempting even just a friendship with Matthew, but at least when they were in the same province, he could still fool himself into thinking that he might. Now Matthew is on the other side of the continent, loving life in Florida, no doubt headed to a Cup win within the next few years, and Leon…

Leon is just a loser who doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings, and Matthew can never, ever know. Which shouldn’t make it so hard for Leon to act normal around him, since their normal is, well, nothing. But apparently that would be too easy for his brain.

He’s staring up at the moon, feeling kind of like he belongs on a teen drama, when there’s some noise behind him and he turns to see Matthew. Of course. Of fucking course he does. Because the universe is out to get him.

“Hey, Tkachuk.” Wow, solid. Try to sound more flat and unfriendly, Leon. He’s usually pretty good with people – how come he can never quite get his shit together around Matthew?

“‘Sup,” Matthew says. He’s a little wobbly on his feet and Leon has to stifle laughter. Drunk Matthew kind of resembles a baby deer.

“Having a good time?”

“I’m a responsible drinker,” Matthew responds, which isn’t really an answer, but he’s nodding sagely like he’s just delivered some profound wisdom and Leon has to fight even harder against laughter.

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, then adds, when Matthew sways a little bit like he’s getting dizzy, “Hey, maybe it’s time to call it a night. Do you want me to get you an Uber?” There, that’s good. Friendly, helpful. A normal, thoughtful gesture.

But Matthew turns fiery in a second, hissing, “Go fuck yourself” so surely and ferociously that Leon can practically feel it washing over him. He’s half-tempted to just turn tail and run back to Connor like a wimp, but he makes himself try again.

“Come on, Tkachuk. Let me take you home. I think you need to go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” Matthew says. Or, more accurately, whines. Leon kind of hates that he still finds it endearing. “I hate sleeping.”

He doesn’t even know what to make of that. “Um, okay? But—”

“When I sleep, I have to wake up,” Matthew says, cutting him off. “And when I wake up, you’re always gone.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head and flooding his lungs.

“What did you say?”

“You’re always gone,” Matthew says again. “‘S not fair. ‘S like…like…oh, Matthew, here’s your person. Just kidding! He’s in Edmonton and he hates you!”

Leon can’t decide if he’s about to throw up or pass out. How, how, how did this happen? He’s always been so careful, ever since the day his parents sat him down and explained what he could do. He was twelve years old and utterly horrified by the whole concept, and resolved immediately that he would master how to control it and it would never be an issue. And it never has been, until now. Of course it’s now, when it matters most of all.

“Matthew…” He has no idea where he’s going with that sentence. Matthew starts to walk away before he can figure it out, but he’s still shaky on his feet and Leon grabs his arm without even thinking about it. “Whoa. Okay, okay. Matthew, come on. Let me take you home and I…we can talk in the morning. I’ll explain in the morning.”

“Explain to your mom.” Yeah, Matthew is pretty damn drunk. But he tells Leon his address and gets in the uber without a fuss, and, after trying and failing several times to open the front door himself, hands his house keys over to Leon.

Leon peeks in the upstairs rooms as quickly as possible until he finds what must be Matthew’s room. What a joke, what an incredibly sick joke by his old friend the universe, that he’s actually in Matthew’s house, in his bedroom, and it’s only to make Matthew get some sleep before Leon has to confess to what’s been happening and beg for his forgiveness. He tugs Matthew’s sneakers off of his feet and gets him to lie down and hates himself the entire time.

“I don’t wanna have another dream,” Matthew mutters.

“You won’t.” He never will again, Leon can at least promise that. Now that he knows what he’s been doing, he would give up sleep himself if that’s what it takes,

“You don’t know that. You’ve been hau–haunting me for months. When I find out who’s doing it, ‘m gonna…gonna…gonna pinch ‘em, really hard.” Matthew sounds like a petulant child, which only makes Leon feel worse. He should be furious, shouting and swearing and maybe trying to call the police, not morosely threatening classic older brother treatment.

“You won’t,” Leon says again. “I’m sorry.” Matthew doesn’t respond. He’s asleep.

Leon promised to explain in the morning, so he can’t exactly leave. But he can burrow into Matthew’s couch – one that’s clearly been chosen for comfort rather than aesthetics, which only makes him more endearing – and call his mother. Unfortunately he starts to cry as soon as she picks up.

“Leon?” she says, sounding understandably alarmed. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

“I messed up, Mama,” he whispers. It all comes tumbling out, everything he’s been keeping carefully hidden for the last couple years and how badly he’s managed to screw up anyway. His mother makes a few startled noises along the way, but when he finally gives her a chance to get a word in edgewise, she’s utterly calm.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says soothingly. “You can tell him the truth in the morning.”

“He’s going to hate me,” Leon says. “Even more than he did before.”

“What you’ve described does not sound like someone who hates you, Leon.”

“Well, he does,” Leon says firmly. “I’ll just be lucky if he doesn’t tell the entire league what I did.”

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” his mother tells him. “Our problems usually don’t seem quite as scary in the light of day.”

Leon is a good son, so he follows her instructions. Or at least, he does eventually. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, since the sheer embarrassment and mortification of the night gives him another jolt every time he closes his eyes, but he gets there in the end. It’s restless and uneven, but at least he keeps his word to Matthew.

_____

Matthew hasn’t emerged yet when Leon wakes up, with a sore neck and a headache even though he had way less to drink last night than some people. At least Matthew’s coffee maker is a simple model. He stumbles into the kitchen when the pot Leon started is almost ready, also looking a little worse for wear.

“Hey,” he says. “I have multiple guest rooms, you know.” Leon knows – he looked in two of them last night before finding Matthew’s room – but it didn’t seem appropriate to just help himself to Matthew’s space when he hadn’t actually been given permission. He says as much. “Well. Thank you for getting me home. And for making coffee.” Matthew is looking at him expectantly. Leon digs down deep into his guts to dredge up every bit of courage he can.

“Matthew, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” Matthew asks. Leon pulls in a deep breath. He can’t even look Matthew in the eye when he answers him.

“For the dreams.”

“For the—it was you?”

Leon nods. He can’t feel his hands. “I swear to you, I had no idea I was doing it. I never, ever meant to project any of that onto you. It’s been a long time since I had to work to control it, and I guess I got sloppy…I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to make it up to you.” His voice sounds desperate and pathetic even to his own ears, so he can’t imagine what Matthew must be thinking. Matthew’s face doesn’t betray anything. He mostly looks confused.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you do that to try to knock me off my game? Why would you do it by accident?”

“Knock you off your game?” What is he talking about?

“Yeah!” Matthew says. Now he’s starting to sound kind of angry again. Leon braces himself. “Brady and I figured it out – someone was trying to mess with my play by giving me weird dreams. But you don’t—and you just said you didn’t mean to project it, so—I don’t get it.”

He really doesn’t get it. He has no clue what’s been happening or why it’s all Leon’s fault. Leon is going to have to spell it out, and then go hide in a cave forever. Maybe he should book one of those cruises to Antarctica and forget to get back on the ship at the end.

“Matthew, I wasn’t trying to mess with your game,” Leon says. “I was…I was just imagining. What I wanted. And I guess it was just so strong that it…went to you too. That can happen sometimes even when you don’t mean to do it.”

“What you wanted.”

“I’m sorry,” Leon whispers. That sick, heavy feeling from last night is back. He’s never been more sorry for anything in his entire life. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t intend for you to find out, certainly not like this. I promise I have it under control. I won’t make things weird again.” He has to look away from Matthew for a second time, can’t bear to see the hate in his eyes when he tears Leon to pieces.

But that’s not what happens.

After what might be thirty seconds or an hour, Matthew’s feet appear in his line of vision.

“You’re an idiot.”

When Leon looks up, Matthew kisses him.

[sometimesanalice]

Ah, Monroe! Your reblogs always give me life! Your meme game is unmatched, lol!

I'm so thrilled you liked this angsty bit of pre-Like I Can history!

more for you!

You can’t resist lightly teasing him though, “Beach jeans? That sounds like a choice.”“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Bradley says, solemnly. The drama queen.

every time i get reminded of the beach jorts i laugh. bless the ridiculous costume department on that movie.-- like I know there were other people on that beach wearing jeans (ahem, Mav), but NO ONE was doing it like him in those slutty bermuda jorts. That costume department did that for US! they're just so ridiculous and impractical you can't help but laugh and love them.

“When we’re flying together, I’m reminded how it could have been. How it should have been,” he corrects himself, roughly. “I thought I was fucking over it. It’s been fifteen years, kid. And I’m pissed at myself because he should be nothing to me, I shouldn’t care what he thinks.” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “Why can’t I get over it?”

I love the way you write him.-- ahh!! ok, but I loooovedddd getting to dig into this from his perspective!! there's so many moments like when Mav is like "show me what you've got" looking at Bradley, and how Bradley is in the first group to go up against him. And the way Bradley's voice gets all tight after Mav's "Exactly!" after he does his little "it's not the plane it's the pilot". Like I fully think them bonding and talking about flying together was something that definitely happened all the time when Bradley was growing up. So the fact they've been on the outs for so long, and then having to face those "what could have beens" would be so hard on both of them. We know that man does not let things go, so I think he'd be so frustrated that he still wants Mav to be proud of him and his accomplishments.

“I knew it was fucked up as I said it, but in that moment it felt good to hurt him the way he hurt me,” Bradley says, quietly. Every word feels chewed on, like they’d be covered in indents of his teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look in his eyes, kid. I really fucked up. It’s been eating at me ever since.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I hate that part of myself. I hate that I said that to him, regardless of the shit we’ve been through.” His voice is pinched, tight. “My mom would be so disappointed in me.”

crying real tears. my keyboard is wet.--now everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but anyone who thinks that Bradley loves being purposefully callous to people is just wrong. Lololol. That man was going through Dante's Inferno on top of that carrier, but instead of the 7 deadly sins he's like thinking about all the things he can't take back. And I hate public speaking, but I will go find a busy street corner and set up shop and give a one woman ted talk about it, lol. I think he carries a lot of guilt, especially after Ice's death and how quickly they roll out afterwards. In the OG script, it's like maybe 3 days later? But the TURMOIL on his face on top of that carrier when he was trying to talk to Mav kills me everytimeeee. So I had fun with this fic not only because it adds to the LIC lore, but also because I get to be a Bradley Bradshaw Defense Attorney, lmao. Our sweet boy just has a lot of trauma ok everyone? he just needs a hug!

because you’d be able to read even the most redacted version of Bradley Bradshaw.

this line in particular...-- ahhhh! a last minute additon! I always feel like these end up being the lines that people pick out, and it always makes me so happy because they're usually things I add to fill in something that feels lacking, but they end up being really pivotal sometimes! but it always surprises me!! But i love this one too, because of just HOW well these two know each other. Like he didn't even have to say a word for her to realize something was amiss with him. your honor i love them.

He blurts out your name. “Wait.”“I’m still here,” you answer, quickly.You hear him sigh in relief. “I-You know you’re my favorite, right?”“I know.” Your throat gets thick and your eyes prickle. “And you’re mine.”“Yeah?”Your friendship with him as always mattered the most to you. It wasn’t even a question.“Of course. I didn’t make very intricate embroidery floss friendship bracelets at summer camp when I was thirteen for just anyone, you know.” You’d spent hours making him one in his favorite colors. He’d worn it until it fell off and then asked for another. “You’re my favorite too,” you repeat, wanting him to hear it again.

they are real to me, alexa.-- thank god for that because they're a bit too real for me, so I am happy to share, lol. Ok, but like her at the arts and crafts tent spending a whole afternoon making him one and then being so excited to give it to him later?? i mean, my heart. The love was always there, but that year of them being friends as adults living in the same place and getting to kind of relearn each other was what changed it from that affectionate kind to a romantic kind, but I loved them here calling the other their "favorite", like i think there's something truly lovely about them- even with all that distance- still picking the other as their like forever #1. Out of everyone they know, they both still would choose each other. 🥰

anywayyyyssssssss

I'm so happy you liked it!

California Dreaming

Summary: At sometime past 4am, the last thing you would have ever expected was to receive a call from Bradley Bradshaw. But time is a funny thing it feels like it might be running out.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.6K

Warnings: angst and a bit In-N-Out slander

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on its own!)

You’re pulled from the light sleep you’d just barely managed to slip into by the sound of your phone ringing.

Although you weren’t too sure if your mind was playing tricks on you again. And in that liminal space between awake and asleep, you didn’t trust yourself to know the different anymore. Sleep and you haven’t been on the best of terms over the couple of months, and you had the dark circles under your eyes to prove it.

Your boss had told you about the chatter he’d heard about a position opening up soon at the West Coast office. It was an opportunity that would be perfect for you, minus the fact it would involve uprooting your entire life and moving across the country. You still hadn’t given him an answer yet whether he should put you forward for it or not. But you’d taken to sleeping with your ringer on just in case you were needed for anything, not wanting to close the door completely. And you’d woken up in a panic more than once thinking you’d slept through an emergency call, only to see absolutely zero new notifications.

Just when think it might have been another stress induced fluke, it goes off again.

Bleary eyed, you scramble to reach it. Wanting to silence it to not wake up your boyfriend from his more-peaceful-than-yours slumber. Only half-consciously noting it’s sometime past 4 AM.

However, it’s the name splashed across the screen that makes your heart stop.

𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗪

You sit straight up, the crisp white sheets your boyfriend preferred pooling around your waist.

“Bradley?” You don’t even remember hitting the green button before the phone was up to your ear. “Bradley? Are you ok?” The words come out a sleepy slur all jumbled together by your sluggish tongue.

He’d texted you when he landed back on US soil; a silly selfie with crinkled bag of McDonalds in his hand and the American flag in the background. It had made you grin like an idiot when your phone had lit up with it.

You knew that he had been called back to Top Gun, but that was as much as he’d been able to tell you.

With the time difference, it makes it the hour too early for you, but also too late for him. He should be asleep right now. But you know Bradley, he wouldn’t be calling right now unless it was about something important.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know it’s late there,” Bradley apologizes. “Or early, I guess.”

Tired. He sounds so tired.

You didn’t doubt he was still probably fighting the jetlag that came with being in San Diego after living in Japan for the last year and a half. But it was the weariness in his tone that had you concerned.

“But you’re ok?” you press. You needed to hear it.

“I…” he pauses, then sighs. “Yeah, kid. Everything’s fine.”

You blow out a relieved breath, rubbing at your heavy eyes.

“Good. That’s good,” you nod, reassuringly. Not that he can see you.

He is safe. He is ok. That’s all that matters to you.

Jack groans your name. “Seriously?” The word drips of exasperation and annoyance.

You wince. Less at its sharpness, but more at the feeling like you can’t seem do anything right lately.

You and your boyfriend have been together a little over two years now. You have a comfortable life together in Boston, nice even. But you shook the snowglobe of your relationship when you’d first mentioned the possibility of a promotion and moving, and it still felt like you were waiting for the remainders of all those stirred up flakes to settle back down.

“Give me a minute, Bradley,” you whisper into the phone, “Don’t hang up.” Your voice is so quiet you’re not even sure he heard you.

You turn towards your boyfriend, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already rolled over away from you.

A literal cold shoulder.

Your eyes trace over the exposed skin of his back. It’s dark, but you could point out where every freckle is on him with bullseye precision. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he knew you as well.

Like when he’d bring you red roses, a flower you’ve never felt one way or another about. You’d tell yourself it’s the thought that counts, that it’s the gesture that matters. But for as many times as you’ve bought your favorite flowers yourself and displayed them on the coffee table in your shared living room, Jack has never once brought them home for you.

It made you wonder sometimes if he even truly wanted you, if he cared enough to pay attention. Or if he was just content in the fact that you’d be there.

And then you’d feel guilty for even thinking that in the first place.

But you didn’t just break up with someone over flowers.

Or the way he always seemed to make plans for you with his friends without ever asking you first. Or the way he was never more attentive to you until the two of you were in front of a group.

There’s a sliver of moonlight peeking through the edges of the blinds of your bedroom. A set of curtains would have solved the issue, but you’d never been able to get Jack on board. It was something you there thankful for now as you tiptoed out of the room with just enough light to make sure you wouldn’t trip over anything.

You ease the door gently closed behind you, feeling some of the tension melt from your body.

“Ok, I’m back,” you tell your best friend.

“I take it we woke up Jack?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, padding towards the black leather couch in the living room. You fight back the hiss that wants to be released when your bare thighs touch the ice-cold material. The October chill had a way of sneaking in everywhere. “He’s got a big pitch presentation on Friday,” you say, feeling like you need to explain, “So he’s just a bit on edge right now.”

Bradley makes a noncommittal sound, something close but not quite like a disapproving rumble. You distract yourself from reading into it too much by turning on the lamp on the side table to its lowest setting. A dim glow illuminating the living room.

“Tell me, how’s California?” It’s a pivot. You know you’re trying to smooth things over; you’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

“Sunny.”

You snort and roll your eyes.

“It seems you left good jokes back in Japan,” you tease. You pull your knees up to your chest and reach for your favorite soft knit blanket, tucking it around you. “Be honest, how many things did you forget to pack this time?”

Bradley groans your name. This time you smile.

“I had to take scissors to my favorite pair of Levi’s, because I didn’t bring any shorts for the beach.”

Picturing the pained look on his face as he desecrated his favorite jeans nearly sends you into a fit a giggles. But out of respect for the fallen and your best friend’s feelings you press your lips together, the corners pulling up on their own.

You can’t resist lightly teasing him though, “Beach jeans? That sounds like a choice.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Bradley says, solemnly. The drama queen.

“Is there someone who saw you in them that I could bribe for some new blackmail material?” you ask. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my hands on anything truly juicy.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, kid, but I looked damn good in them.”

This time you don’t hold back the laugh, only muffling it with a hand over your mouth when you realize that your boyfriend could probably hear you through the closed door.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Give me some time and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll make some space in my Bradshaw Blackmail folder in the meantime.” Bradley’s warm chuckle in your ear makes the room feel less cold. “So what else have you been up to?”

“We haven’t had a ton of down time, but I did hit up an In-N-Out with Natasha the other night.” That was a name you were familiar with. You’ve never met Bradley’s fellow aviator and friend, but you were happy he had someone with him there that he was close to. “It was the same one I took you to when you came to visit after I finished Top Gun the first time.”

It was a fluke of fate that you’d been sent to the West Coast office for some training around the time that Bradley was on leave before being sent back to his squadron. The overlap was only for a few days, but the two of you had made the most of it.

“Who knew you were such a sentimentalist?” You lean your head back against the couch.

“It’s the closest one to base,” he justifies, “Although, you’ll be happy to know their milkshakes are still trash.”

You grin. “Hey, I never said they were trash. That was all you, Bradshaw.”

You’ve only been there the once, but it had been fun getting to experience it with him for your first time. He’d ordered more than enough food for two people, making sure to get some of the more classic not-so-secret menu items for you to try. And the Neapolitan shake had been fine, but the ones from the ice cream shop in your hometown where Bradley had had his first job were much better.

“Your face said otherwise,” he bats back.

You hum noncommittally, not wanting to concede. It was more fun for you this way, even if he was right. Not to mention no one knows how to read your face better than Bradley does.

When you don’t argue, he continues, “There’s even a rumor going around that they might want to keep some of us around longer. Like they’d form a new squadron that would be stationed here.”

You perk up, “In San Diego? You could be there permanently?” Between his deployments and moving around from base to base, you don’t think he’s been in one place for more than two years since he went to UVA. “That would be amazing.”

“Yeah, it really would,” Bradley agrees, he sounds hopeful, “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

‘Hope for the best, but expect the worst’ was the motto he seemed to live by. He’d had the rug pulled out from underneath him more times than anyone else you knew.

The two of you are quiet for a moment.

You don’t want to push him into talking about whatever the reason is that he’s called so early in the morning. But no matter how many jokes you trade with him, it’s still in the forefront of your mind. And try as you might, you can’t shake that feeling of unsettledness that was resting heavily on your chest.  

Outside your living room window, the streetlights are bright against the dark sky.

You’ve told him more times than you could count that he could call you any time, but Bradley being Bradley has always made it a point to call during hours that were convenient for you, even if that meant he was still up at some ungodly hour.

But that was so him, always putting everyone else ahead of himself.

With the confidentiality that goes hand in hand with his job, you know he can’t talk about the specifics. It was something you were used to after nearly a decade of Naval service behind him.

You nibble on your lower lip, weighing your words.

“How’s it been with…” You trail off, but you know he knows who you’re referring to. You run a hand up and down your calf, trying to warm up quicker.

Mav? Pete? He’d been Captain Mitchell the last time you’d seen him back when you were in high school, you weren’t sure what his rank was now.

Mav has always been the number one topic on Bradley Bradshaw’s No Fly List. The few times you’ve dared to bring it up in the past had been shut down quicker than you think he could probably fly his jet.

Bradley told you last week in a text that had simply read He’s here. You didn’t even have to ask who he was. It had been just as much of a shock to you as you imagined it probably was for him seeing the man who had derailed his dreams when everything else in his world had already fallen apart.

It was a story you’d always thought there had been more to, but between the two of them you’d always be Team Bradley. That’s how it was supposed to be for best friends.

You can feel Bradley mulling over his answer. “It’s been… motivating.”

The way he says it you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. And maybe he doesn’t even know himself.

You sit up straighter on the couch. “Oh?” you say, casually. Neutrally. Not wanting to let your inflection to color Bradley’s response.

Their reunion has been a long time coming, you just wished you could be there for him with this the way he’s always been there for you. Not just on the phone, but there by his side.

Bradley sighs again, it’s heavier this time. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s probably roughly running his hand down his face, the way he always does when he’s really, truly frustrated. Like he’s trying to free those too big feelings from trapped beneath his skin.

“I’m flying with him for the first time in my career. I want him to see why I’m here. I want to show him.” The anger, the hurt rings though loud and clear. But so does the determination. “These patches I’ve been called back are the best of the best that there is. And I’m one of them, kid. And I got here on my own, without him.”

You wait to see if he is going to continue or not, wanting to give him the space to talk through his feelings, but he’s gone quiet again.

“You’ve worked so hard for this, Bradley.”

“It was all I ever wanted,” he says, his voice rough, “To be like them.”

Like Mav. Like Ice. Like his dad.

You’d been there for the fallout. He’d been crushed when he didn’t get to go to the Academy, the self-destruction that followed had been hard to watch. You’d seen the way he had to pick up the pieces of his life. The way the boy had quickly had to become a man. Every choice Bradley has made since then has been with one purpose in mind.

He’d set out to be a Naval aviator and he’d achieved it.

“You should be so proud of yourself,” you say, softly.  “I know I am.”

You imagine Mav is proud too, but you don’t say that part out loud.

After all, he practically helped raise Bradley- in his own way.  Always calling whenever he could. Sending presents. Spending his leave time with the Bradshaws. They’d been a family.

“Sometimes-” Bradley cuts himself off, trying to collect his thoughts. You can almost feel the tormented whirlwind of them through the phone. “Sometimes,” he starts again, “There are moments, when I see him fly- it’s crazy shit that no one but him can do- and I forget. Just for a second. But then I remember and it’s like I’m eighteen and feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut all over again.”

Your stomach twists in the same way it always does when you’re reminded of that rough period in time when the two of you were just teens. And now that you’re older, your ache even more for the boy whose whole world was so turned upside down by the one person he thought would never let him down.

“When we’re flying together, I’m reminded how it could have been. How it should have been,” he corrects himself, roughly. “I thought I was fucking over it. It’s been fifteen years, kid. And I’m pissed at myself because he should be nothing to me, I shouldn’t care what he thinks.” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “Why can’t I get over it?”

It’s times like this where you can feel every mile between the two of you. Every inch of space in your long-distance friendship. And it chafes at you that all you can be is an ear for him to vent to rather than a shoulder for him to lean on.

“There’s no version of this where it wasn’t going to be tough. And I don’t think you trying to brush off who he was to you, like none of that mattered, is going to make this any easier for you,” you tell him. “Not with the history the two of you have. And you can’t punish yourself for having feelings about it.”

“I told him no one would mourn him if he burned in.” He all but blurts it out.

Your suck in sharp breath and you shake your head in disbelief, “Bradley, you didn’t.” There’s no hiding the shock in your voice.

You know there’s an unspoken code of conduct between aviators from the things you’ve picked up from the way he’s talked about his career and fellow Naval officers over the years. That when everyone’s lives are so dependent on each other to look out for one another, there were certain things you didn’t joke about. Things you didn’t throw around, not even in the heat of a moment.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

You don’t know what to say to him. It’s silent in your darkened living room. The only sound is of his affected breathing over the phone.

You can’t keep dancing around things with him anymore tonight. He cracked open the door, but now you’re the one pushing through it.

“Bradley, what happened?”

His voice is strained when he speaks again, “We had a couple accidents during training a few days ago- no one was hurt.” He is quick to clarify, and you know it’s for your benefit. “It was a bird strike and they had to eject, but they were cleared to fly the next morning.” It hits too close to home all the same. You don’t worry about anyone the way you worry about Bradley. “Mav found me in the Ready Room later that night, and it was just the two of us alone for the first time since everything happened. He was talking to me like I was the kid he’d helped raise, instead of the one he’d fucked over. And then all that anger came rushing back. So I did what I always seem to do, I went for all the things that I knew would hurt him the most.”

You squeeze your eyes tight in sympathy. You’ve been on the receiving end of Bradley’s sharp tongue before. You’ve never held it against him, but you’ve also never forgotten the way his words sliced straight through you.

“I knew it was fucked up as I said it, but in that moment it felt good to hurt him the way he hurt me,” Bradley says, quietly. Every word feels chewed on, like they’d be covered in indents of his teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look in his eyes, kid. I really fucked up. It’s been eating at me ever since.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I hate that part of myself. I hate that I said that to him, regardless of the shit we’ve been through.” His voice is pinched, tight. “My mom would be so disappointed in me.”

The guilt in his voice is unmistakable and it's a confession you can tell that takes a lot out of him. No one holds on to regrets- or grudges- like he does. Even if the one he’s holding it against is himself. You know this is going to be something he’ll carry around with him for a long time to come.

But it is the way he stumbles over the mention of Carole that cracks your heart open.

You had grown up adoring her. She’d been lightning in a bottle. Her smile was always the brightest in the room, and her laughter always made people stop to look wanting to be in on the joke too. There was no one quite like her.

And after she died, you’d mourned that loss too. You still carried the evidence of that love with the scar issue on your heart. But for Bradley, that was a wound that no amount of time would ever fully heal for him. Forever a reminder of who wasn’t there.

He’d already lost so much. First, his dad. Then his mom. And now with his uncle.

Bradley had told you about Ice and his passing. You knew they had come to an understanding in the after of everything. It was a relationship held together by a monthly phone call or two, and a dinner invite whenever Bradley was in town. He’d called you during one of his breaks on the morning he found out, troubled because he didn’t know he’d even been sick.

Just more time missed with someone who had meant something to him.

You didn’t want him to regret saying those harsh words without the chance to make amends. You didn’t want him to miss out on any more time with people who wanted to be there for him. You didn’t want him to shoulder around that pain and resentment anymore. A decade and a half of it was more than enough to carry that around. You didn’t want him to forever push away the one person who probably cared for him just as much as you did.

“So apologize,” you gently urge him. “Talk to Mav and apologize. For him and for you.”

He sighs, heavily, “It’s not that simple.”

Gone is the quiet girl in her dark living room. You want him to hear you. “It really is though, Bradley. Tell him. Pull him aside after class or get there early. Or take him to that bar on the beach you told me about and buy him a beer. Don’t let this be a thing you can’t take back. You can still apologize.”

“I-I don’t think I can. There’s not enough time for that now.” His words are stilted.

You feel your eyebrows pinch in confusion, “Aren’t you guys there for a couple more weeks?” He doesn’t answer you right away and you feel a chill drift across you, even under your blanket. “Does that mean you’re shipping out soon?”

“It’s why I called.” There’s something more serious in his tone, you’re talking to the Naval officer now. “We got the orders, we ship out tomorrow. Or later today, technically.”

There’s a swooping sensation in your stomach and it feels like the floor has fallen out beneath your feet.

“Goddamn it, Bradshaw. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Your voice wavers.

“I know, I probably should have.” At least he has the good sense to admit it. “I just wanted to talk to you, like normal. Although we didn’t get very far before I derailed the conversation,” he says, self-deprecatingly. “Do you think you can give me a few more minutes of normal, kid?”

You know there’s not much you can ask, and even less than he can tell you. You’re surprised you even allowed to know this much.

But you don’t need a dossier of confidential government information to tell you that whatever he’s being sent to do is dangerous, because you’d be able to read even the most redacted version of Bradley Bradshaw. You’d known something was off from the very moment you’d seen his name lighting up your phone.

You don’t want him to feel your anxiousness, you don’t want to add to whatever else he’s currently going through. Bradley called you because he wants to let his mind relax. So if he wants normal, you can give him normal. You can give him as much as he wants, as much as he needs.

“I’m sorry for making fun of your beach shorts.”

Bradley huffs a soft laugh, “No, you’re not.”

“You know,” you muse, fighting to keep your tone light and airy, “I haven't played hooky in a while and I have some miles to use before the end of the year.”

“You want to come out here?” The suggestion works just like you hoped it would, he sounds less troubled than before.

“I could use some Vitamin D and a milkshake. Do you know a good place to make it worth my while?”

“I might. It depends on your opinion is about Neapolitan shakes though.” Your nose scrunches up on its own. “Are you making that face, kid?”

“No,” you reply too quickly.

“Liar.”

You smile to yourself. “I’ll even let you pick me up from the airport and you can finally show me that Bronco of yours in person. It only seems fair that I get to see what all the hubbub is about after I’ve spent hours letting you talk my ear off about it: V8 engine this and four-speed manual transmission that.” You do your best Bradley impersonation and earn an amused scoff from him.

He’d bought it right before he’d been sent to Japan. Ice and his wife had been looking after it for him while he was away. Bradley had even documented his reunion with it after landing back on US soil by sending you a video of it with him humming the Peaches & Herb song in the background.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bradley says. You think he might be smiling too.

It’s all to easy for you to slip into a normal conversation with him. He asks about your mom and stepdad. You don’t mention the possible promotion, but instead tell him about the passive aggressive microwave fish debacle that plagued the entire floor for days.

The two of you talk about nothing in a way that feels like everything. And every chuckle you pull out of him feels like a victory. Your tired eyes flutter shut on their own, with them closed you can almost pretend he’s sitting right next to you, until a yawn slips out of you without your permission.

“It’s getting late, I should let you go.”

You want to keep talking to him, but you can imagine the circles that have already formed under his eyes over the last few days. “You should get your sleep. Rest up, because we have big milkshake plans…and you’re not allowed to stand me up. Got it, Bradshaw?”

“I hear you,” he promises. “Try to stay out of trouble until I get back, kid.”

“No promises.” You feel your lower lip wobble.

“Atta girl.”

You laugh. It sounds a little watery to your own ears, but you hope he doesn’t hear it. You’re grateful he didn’t choose to FaceTime you. It’s probably for the best he can’t see your face, you’ve never been a very good poker player.

“Be safe, Bradley.”

You’ve already decided that you’ll let him be the one to hang up first. You didn’t have it in you to hit the red button before he did.

He blurts out your name. “Wait.”

“I’m still here,” you answer, quickly.

You hear him sigh in relief. “I-You know you’re my favorite, right?”

“I know.” Your throat gets thick and your eyes prickle. “And you’re mine.”

“Yeah?”

Your friendship with him as always mattered the most to you. It wasn’t even a question.

“Of course. I didn’t make very intricate embroidery floss friendship bracelets at summer camp when I was thirteen for just anyone, you know.” You’d spent hours making him one in his favorite colors. He’d worn it until it fell off and then asked for another. “You’re my favorite too,” you repeat, wanting him to hear it again.

“Ok. Ok, good,” Bradley says. He lets out a slow breath. “See you soon for milkshakes, kid.”

“See you soon.” It comes out a reedy whisper.

You stay on the line until he hangs up.

And only when the screen goes black do you allow yourself to give into the emotions that had been surging up inside of you.

With the corner of your blanket, you wipe at the tears that are making hot tracks down your cheeks. There’s a hollowness that has settled in your chest that you don’t think will go away until he tells you when to book your ticket to come and see him.

It doesn’t matter that you remind yourself that he is one of the best at he does. Or that you know he’ll be with other people who are just as good as he is. In all the years he’s been in the Navy, you’ve never once heard him sound that unsure before, and it’s rattled you.

It’s not that you didn’t know there was risk every time he sat in the cockpit of his fighter jet, even if it was just to train. But this was the first time it’s ever felt like he was preparing you for the possibility that you might never see or hear from him again.

You didn’t want to imagine a world with Bradley Bradshaw in it.

He’s never once broken a promise with you, and he wasn’t allowed to start now.

You don’t know how long you sit there in the dark with only your feelings and the sound of the clock on the wall for company.

Your eyes drift towards the closed bedroom door, where you’re sure Jack is sleeping unbothered on a soft mattress between stark white sheets.

It hits you then that he hadn’t come to check on you.

It’s still just as dark outside. Only the little lamp next to the couch offers any light, as you look around your living room.

You’d liked all the exposed brick when you’d first moved in, had imagined all the ways you could soften the apartment with things to make it more cozy for you and your boyfriend. More like the two of you.

But the books on the bookcase had been carefully chosen to fit a neutral color palette, while all your favorites had been moved to the smaller one in the office. Their colorful covers hidden away. The spot where you thought some kind of landscape painting could have gone, had a photograph of a sepia-toned city hanging there instead. It was still art, but it was the kind of thing that had been made to disappear into the background.

You keep waiting to see a piece of yourself reflected in the room, some mark of you that had been left behind in the home you live in, but other than the black and white striped rug that had been too good of a deal to pass up on at a store with a no return policy, none could be found. You didn’t see any of yourself there at all.

You thought that you’d been making compromises, but it’s dawning on you that all along really what you’ve been doing is making concessions. A one-sided partnership. When all you ever wanted was to share a life with someone.

Earlier you found yourself making excuses to Bradley, but now it felt like something you weren’t sure you wanted to look past.

You are tired.

And not because it’s sometime around 5 AM now. You’re already well past the start of a new day.

You’re tired of being the one to trying to make something work.

You’re tired of being the one who always makes a genuine effort.

You’re tired of red roses.

Maybe people did end relationships over flowers. Or the art on the walls.

Grabbing your phone, you open your email ignoring all the messages that are already waiting for you, and start typing out a message. When you’re done, you read it over a couple of time before sending it off to your boss. The whoosh that follows as it bounces off the exposed brick in the quiet living room feels like progress.

You didn’t want to miss out on any more time either.

Not with the people who mattered the most to you. The people you mattered the most to.

Leaning over the arm of the couch you turn off the lamp and stretch out to get comfortable on the cushions underneath you. You tuck a throw pillow under your head and drape the blanket over you.

From this angle, you can almost pretend the city lights look like stars.

Your alarm is already set, and if you’re lucky you can doze a bit longer before it will go off all too soon.

But it’ll ok if sleep doesn’t find you.

You’re already California dreaming.

Who gave me permission to do this to myself?! Oh my heart. Don't mind me, I'm just in my angsty era. Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!

You can read my other stories here!

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