#Sorry for not putting Brad

[b3stial3]

KTM 2025 lore

[ex0rin]

Anyway...

[ghostliest-ghosty-ghost-bastard]

"I wanted to destroy something beautiful"

So he made himself into the thing he hated most. So he made what was his ideal then killed the god with a shot from the gun in his own mouth.

[13thspectre]

Long ass ramble on Mariner and Boimler and their relationship

I think the first step in why Mariner comes to care for her purple dork is the fact that he surprised her. These two idiots knew each other for about a year by the first episode, had probably been around each other a lot being bunk mates, so Mariner probably had a confident idea of who Boimler was deep down. She saw him as a product of propaganda and social engineering. The kind of guy who would sell her and a ship of refugees out for a superior's nod of approval. Someone who saw rank as the end all be all of what Starfleet had to offer.

So, when he ends up not ratting her out on that first episode, I think that may be one of the first times since she'd become more cynical towards Starfleet that Mariner had gotten someone wrong, that they proved them to be a little bit better in her book. So from there, she becomes attached, thinking there's hope for this bootlicker. Maybe, if he turned out to be better than she pegged him for, he could be trusted. Maybe this organization where she's been listlessly dragging herself up and down the ranks in some kind of administrative limbo can really do good. And some part of her that's been questioning if she belongs here at all, doesn't even believe she could really belong on her own mom's ship, thinks that maybe she's found somewhere and someone with whom she does belong.

Boimler's side of things is... very similar. Mariner surprises him. Constantly surprises him. She breaks protocol, disregards authority, spits in the face of the Prime Directive. She's an ensign, same as Boimler himself, but Mariner is easily one of the most frustratingly amazing and impressive people he's ever met, having stories rivaling many starfleet legends, and having the skills and contacts to back them up. And she shows him that she's not just some tantruming rebel, she actually does care, wants and is willing to go the extra mile to help. To do the kind of things that Starfleet often professes to do, but so often just never gets around to.

Mariner challenges everything that Boimler thought was concrete: the infallibility of starfleet, the concrete importance of established protocol, the belief that the achievement of rank is the most certain sign of purpose and importance. She is everything he wants to be and not. She is sociable, likable, able, strong, witty, quick on her feet, and yet she also possesses none of the bigger-picture ambition to do something widespread and worthwhile with her ability. Mariner lacks some of the sensitivity and cautiousness that comes with avoiding unnecessary disaster, and the desire to achieve a higher rank to actually combat the shortfalls of Starfleet she complains so much about.

It's in that mutual challenge that their mutual importance is found: they're each other's anchor. Mariner anchors Boimler so he doesn't get swept up in monotonous idealism, and Boimler anchors Mariner so she doesn't wash away in listless despair.

And I think that's why Mariner is so angered by Boimler's leaving for Titan. It's why despite professing some kind of cool when it comes to dealing with disappointment, she is so stuck up on him that she leaves him dozens of angry messages, demanding an explanation. Why, months after he left and no chance of him returning, she still keeps onto the idea that he's still there or will be back, like keeping spaces for him in the showers. Because it wasn't just that he betrayed her, and right after professing friendship. It's that him leaving her, and so coldly, implies that she was right about him from the beginning. Boimler leaving for the Titan proved her instincts right, that other people, especially those in starfleet, couldn't be trusted. To do what really matters. You couldn't trust others to not hurt you if you trust yourself to them.

Boimler, I think, does not realize he's lost his anchor. He doesn't realize it for a while. On the Titan, trying to survive every batshit crazy operation Riker sets them on takes precedence. When he isn't screaming his lungs out in a wordless prayer to the cosmic koala for survival, he's trying to reconcile what he thought he joined Starfleet for and what he actually wants to do. Boimler isn't in this for the missions, or even the glory (mostly, he still likes to brag a bit, I mean who wouldn't). Boimler wants to be an explorer and a diplomat. Someone who wants to learn what there is to know about this insane deadly universe they're somehow prospering in (he's someone excited for anomaly consolidation duty, and sometimes has a close to encyclopedic knowledge of the things they're dealing with, like Tendi and the cube). He wants to find and learn about other cultures, wants to find and learn how to make new friends (even if his execution on that last bit is clunky and awkward at best, at least for now).

Boimler realizing how important Mariner is to him doesn't come until 2x5, when only he is able to get into Starfleet's biggest party with its biggest names. The shouting pulls through, the hurt comes back, and Boimler and Mariner go separate ways again. But when Boimler finally has his dream of rubbung elbows with the top brass, he sees the party differently. Maybe a little more like Mariner would. Boimler doesn't see people schmoozing and networking. He just sees a party, full of people enjoying the company of those they trust and love. This is where Boimler realizes some of the true weight of his leaving, and just how much it affected him in turn, not having his anchor with him.

Now I'll be honest here in that I haven't really watched much TOS, so I'm missing some of the full gravity of the comparison betwen Kirk and Spock and Mariner and Beckett. What I do know is that they were combative but also complimentary, one was the charismatic daredevil that flounced the rules, and the other was more by the book and research-oriented, though the LD dynamic duo I guess has much more in the way of neuroticism and personal dysfunction. I know I'm doing a bad job of distilling Spock and Kirk's dynamic, so please let me know if I'm off the mark, or elaborate on how this might fit into my little spiel. But the point is that here is when both realize how important they are to each other. Seeing those names carved into the counter of a bar, following perhaps a similar story of how Kirk and Spock ended up there, Mariner and Boimler now realize that they can come back from this. They have the potential to do great things together, but more importantly, they just want to be in each others' lives again.

When they get stranded, there's once again the issue of trust. Mariner still clings to that idea that she is the mentor and better of Boimler, and so she has to look out for him, whether or not he realizes or wants it. She doesn't trust hum to do well on his own or to make the best decisions. At the same time, we see Boimler stepping up a bit. He takes the douche-bot AI with them against Mariner's idea to just bury it (at first) to keep monitoring AGIMUS, he tries to climb the tree to get fruit himself because Mariner is injured, and even just shuts Mariner down a bit when she's anguished that that shithole planet's fruit somehow also tasted like black licorice. We see hints of Boimler being a bit more confident, a bit more capable and sure of himself, without empty pride being the only thing in his arsenal. And when it seems like Mariner was right all along and Boimler fell for some manipulation, it's revealed that he was playing AGIMUS, playing both of them like a fiddle. Boimler had a plan, executed it flawlessly, apologizes to Mariner for deceiving her, and gets them rescued. Now, both of them still know Mariner is far and away the more capable of the two in most areas, but Mariner now doesn't see Boimler as some hapless naive child. She'd still go out of her way to save his butt, but not because he's her self-proclaimed responsibility, rather because he's her friend.

In 3x1, Mariner is depressed and angry. Her mother's in custody, in a public trial, and she can't do anything, except apparently trust the system. Despite empty assurances from her father, Mariner is unable to find hope for her mother. So she goes to her anchor, Boimler, to try and find hope where none exists. And here, we see the growth of their bond. Even stuck planetside, they find each other. They're anchors, in a sense. Through Boimler, Mariner is able to find some kind of hope thst she can save her mom. Through Marjner, Boimler finds a new purpose so doesn't waste away at his family's vineyard. Hell, Boimler is so ride or die at this point that he helps Mariner steal a fucking amusement park starship and board a locked down Cerritos!

During the season two finale when Mariner is about to go down in cetacean ops to release the final panel, Rutherford, Tendi, and Boimler all talk sense into Mariner, convincing her to make up with her mom before they all die or never see Captain Freeman again in what I think is a very satisfying intervention. But something I want to point out is what Boimler tells Mariner. Boimler says they'll all either die soon, or Mariner's mom will get promoted and the two may never speak again, and he asks Mariner if this is how she wants things to end. It makes me think that Boimler's talking about when he left. He left without clearing the air, without saying goodbye, without anything. He knows in retrospec how painful that actually was, how much it hurt both of them to never really try and reconcile things until the party, and he doesn't want Mariner to go through that again with her mom.

In 3x5, Boimler tries his best to keep Mariner calm and out of trouble, but he loses it, throttling conspiracy weirdos' necks like Mariner would, despite attempts by Mariner to try and calm him down. And while that is fun, something that really catches my attention is how once people start coming to their tent in genuine interest, impressed by Boimler's confidence and defense of Starfleet, Mariner actually seems genuinely interested in finding ways that people could join Starfleet. It's some kind of inversion of their roles, with Boimler being the impressive act of violence that wows everyone, and Mariner being the eager one to bring it all up to protocol.

Crisis Point 2 comes around, and even without knowing what's up, Mariner still tries to stick things through with Boimler for a while, knowing Tendi and Rutherford are off actually having fun on something with Boimler's holomovie, something she had just been teasing him about earlier. She can easily tell that he's going off his own script, but she still goes with him, not yet realizing that she's watching her friend go through an existential spiral. When she does learn about William's death, Mariner immediately goes to Boimler to be his friend. She tells him that the story may not be a good one, but it is a Starfleet story, so it's worth telling, and so they should try to find the ending they're after. This brings up two ideas: one is that Mariner hopes the holodeck can provide the same kind of therapeutic realization it gave her. The other is that she's telling Boimler that his story, irrevocably a Starfleet story, may not be glamorous or exciting the way others' are or the way he wanted it to be, but it's still important.

When Mariner leaves, things apparently get a little weird. By Rutherford's own admission, Boimler loses grasp of reality without Mariner around. He's lost his anchor, and he's a bit adrift. For Mariner, things are going well. It's honestly a bit like the Titan all over again, with Mariner having her own adventures. But something still feels off. She tries to find reason to distrust Petra and this new purpose, but it's just Mariner trying to find a reason to return. Back to Starfleet, back to the Cerritos, back to her friends and family, back to her mom, back to her anchor. In saving the Cerritos, Mariner brings back every California-class ship. In one act, she demonstrates her faith and trust in Starfleet, or at least the people in it. She finds the others that had been given up on and gives them another chance. Similar I think to the way Boimler did for her in not reporting her that first episode, and again when she welcomed him back to the ship. When she comes back on board, the first thing she does is rush and hug Boimler, finding her anchor. And what Boimler does is own up to his own lack of trust and action, apologizes, and promises to make up for it. Afterward, Mariner changes direction and wants to try her hand at making her way in Starfleet again, finding hope in her purpose in the same way she did when Boimler first decided to trust her.

*edited a bunch of typos and some weird wording

[alexmarquezmotogpracewinner]

Just the symbolism of it all

[gmanweatherreport]

Ok was planning on doing this with ashe b4 i realozed someone else already did so ill just keep this in my art tag or a non main one BUT it was funny how easilly i could revert to the old styles twas kind of fun. template by @ sapgoon_ on twitter

[orangetintedglasses]

Wolfwood collided with Brad's middle with all the driving force of a sand steamer barreling over the oceans at full speed, and he felt (and unfortunately heard) at least four of his ribs snap with the impact; the sound of all the air being punched out of his lungs was drowned out by the tail end of that horrid, inhuman, haunted-sounding scream.

Well, so much for his plan of being the one to carry the kid out of there… that was the thought the elderly Sinner would cling to in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, as more crew filed into the hangar. So much commotion in such a short amount of time… it hadn't been this 'lively' on the Ship in months…

Luida, for all her knowledge and wisdom that came with being as old as she was… had no idea what to make of what had just happened. The Plants themselves seemed just as horrified for whatever it was that Wolfwood had suffered in that terrible moment, and where the room had just been filled with excitement and electricity before, there was now a much, much heavier feeling that even the idle ship-goers could feel weighing down on them.

Maybe they were aware of the limits that they'd inadvertently pushed, too.

Eventually, though, the commotion ceased, and Brad and Wolfwood were moved out of the hangar and into beds to rest and recover from the entire ordeal— Brad going to medical in Wolfwood's place, where the young undertaker would be taken back to the room he'd been staying in… though they would bring in some of their less… invasive equipment so they could at least try to keep an eye on some of his vitals. Not an easy job, with Wolfwood being so averse to doctors and most-anything medically-inclined, but they'd never dealt with anything like this before: they needed to be able to monitor him just in case things somehow managed to take a turn for the worse as he slept…

… but…

Thanks to his efforts, at the very least… now they had something of a lead; an errant thread that they could follow that they hadn't known about before. And while Wolfwood slept, they would follow it. They would follow it and follow it and follow it until they found whatever it was that was waiting for them on the other end. Until they had something to show for the undertaker's efforts; until they could find something to report back to him whenever he opened his eyes again and found himself (once more) tucked into bed, recovering from another ordeal… with the idle chatter of the Ship's crew and the soft, somewhat-steady beat of a heart monitor keeping him company…

"Vash is—"

Wolfwood tries again to communicate, but he can feel his lungs and heart working overtime, running themselves ragged. He feels as though he's having a heart attack, or something, something that he's felt before while on the Doctor's table undergoing tests. In fact, this exact situation may have been what that particular test was for.

"V'sh—needs us—I can find him—ghhk—"

I'll find him, I'll find him, I'll find him, I'll find him—

"Tore me away from—" Wolfwood's words come out like broken radio static, as though he'd been flipping through frequencies, but this time the sentence is interrupted by a painful scream. A high piercing shriek skewers his brain like a long needle, and he thrusts backward again with finality. Too fierce for any mere man to handle, he bucks out of Brad's grasp unwillingly, accidentally throwing more power into it than he would if he were struggling. If Brad is somehow uninjured from this, it'll be some kind of miracle.

With a glaring flash of pure white light, his scream finally and abruptly comes to an end... and so does his ability to stay conscious. Delirium settles in, and he suddenly feels the weight of the Plant consciousness—he's not really there, and yet, it feels as though he's stuck...

"—can find him... will find him—"

Outside, the markings peter out along with his energy. After several shallow, sobbing breaths, Wolfwood caves into the light-headedness and passes out. No dreams await him on the other side of consciousness, and neither does Vash. He's alone once again with the silent darkness of his mind as he drifts down the flooded river of his own thoughts, arriving deep, deep into the realm of sleep.

[flovverworks]

(through tears) u should read promise of wizard

[gh0stsp1d3r]

penalty box

warnings: fighting, major penalty, mentions of wounds… suggestive !

MASTERLIST

Rafe glanced down at the puck he had on his stick, looking up to his teammate, Marchand, making sure he was open before passing it to him. Brad began to skate over to the goal, before he was shoved into the dasher board by the opposite team.

Rafe had already been pissed off at some of the dirty plays the other team had made, and today was not his day. He had already gotten eaten up by the coach earlier, and this game was not helping.

Rafe clenched his jaw, seeing the person skate away with the puck, following after him quickly. Rafe was hot on his tail, before someone else slammed into him, knocking him off his skates, causing him to fall on his ass. You winced at the sight, your face twisting up, silently hoping that he was okay.

But, Rafe stood up quickly, beginning to shove the man, shouting at him. The man shoved his back, before the both of them started to throw punches, the crowd erupting into cheers and shouts. Rafe threw his own helmet off, the other man doing the same. Both sticks were forgotten about on the ice.

You stood up quickly, watching as Rafe pinned the guy to the ground, punching him in the face multiple times, the other man trying to retaliate. The refs and the other players attempting to get Rafe off of the man.

You shouted Rafes name, despite knowing he couldn’t hear over all the noise. Rafe stood up, heaving and grabbing his helmet, stick and gloves, shoving his teammates hand off his shoulder, before skating to the penalty box.

Rafe knew where you were sitting, being directly in the first row, he glanced at you, seeing you look back at him worriedly. You weren’t too far from the penalty box, so it was easy to talk. You threw him a thumbs up with a furrowed eyebrow, as if asking him is he was okay. He looked back at you, nodding and giving you a small smile, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head to himself, glancing back at you every once in a while.

“Hey, tough guy,” you whispered teasingly, your breath warm against his lips as he stepped out of the locker room. The door swung open, revealing him with a small smile, the thrill of the game still evident in his eyes.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, the anger and frustration of the game disappearing, and instead, a spark of joy lighting up his features, replacing it.

“You did good today.” You told him when he wrapped his arms around you, him shrugging his shoulders.

“I did okay.” He murmured, turning his face away, giving you a view to the damage done.

You grabbed his face, examining the wounds and bruises forming on his face.

You frowned, seeing you look at him, and grabbing your hand, putting his rough palms on your skin.

“I’m fine, baby. I told you, you can’t worry about this shit.“ he told you quietly, pressing his lips against your hand, kissing it softly.

"Rafe.."

“Shh.” He told you, pressing his lips against yours suddenly, his hands traveling to your back before moving down to your ass. Your worries dissipated, him pulling away for a moment.

“How ‘bout we go home, yeah?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, you nodding in agreement.

“Hey, Cameron!”

He turned around at the sound of his teammates voice. “What’s up, man?” He asked, turning around and stopping in his tracks.

“You coming to the bar later?”

Damn post game celebrations. You thought, looking up to Rafe, who glanced back down at you.

“Nah, not today, sorry. I got plans of my own.” He said with a small smirk, his teammates laughing and nodding, one of them whistling as you both walked away, laughing with each other.

[pearlescentparade]

"HI PP!! It is so amazing to see you again!! I’m trying to be first come first serve but I hope this doesn’t overwhelm you. I also hope your scholarship stuff went well! Could you possibly do a GRIEFER x Player!Reader but post-Demo 3? (Drabble) Like maybe GRIEFER left the hospital, Reader leaves the haunted manor after getting the Ghostwalker, they bump into each other midway through their travels and then the talking starts. Could start with a bit of angst and ends with lots of fluff, but it’s up to you! Delving deeper into the scenario, maybe it’s possible that GRIEFER and Reader already have an established relationship (platonic or romantical, up for interpretation), so when Reader previously fought GRIEFER in Demo 2, took the Venomshank, and left, it caused some mixed feelings and confusion. Maybe Reader is also hesitant to open up about the Demo 3 events with all of the stuff about Builderman and the 4 main emotions that made their soul “impure” in fears that they won’t be believed or might be seen as “crazy”. The rest is up to you! I’m so happy to see you! - The Angel Anon 🪽 P.S.: Sorry, I’m a big yapper hehe..,, - yes, I made my account based on my anon name,, I like it as a “persona” tbh and I can still be anonymous as long as I don’t spill any big info!!! This is my first time requesting I’m so nervous,, Ily friend /p” - angel anon 🪽

angel anon img onna whoop u for sending this in as a asubmission isntead of an ask /silly /lh @starryessence2

alone together 🎮 griefer x player reader drabble ❤️‍🩹💝

the two of you stand a few feet apart on the road leading to turitopolis, griefer standing in your way of the town.

"...TH3 H3LL 4R3 Y0U D01NG H3R3?!" he staggers to point at you, snarling. you note that he visible winces from the abrupt action, likely in pain from the strain it put on his muscles.

you almost didn't recognize him. he looks more like a walking jungle than a robloxian, what with the various plant stems and leaves twining around his body and sticking out of his skin. but his grating, aggressive voice is identifiable enough. it's a sorry state to be in, though it's better than how you left him when you took the venomshank.

"...get out of the way, brad. i don't have the energy for you." you sigh, no hint of malice present in your tone unlike the other. rather, it's more of exhaustion and mild annoyance.

you're not in that pretty of a state yourself, with prominent dark eyebags weighing your eyes down and a pale face. on your way here, you've had several children scream 'ghost' at the sight of you. but who wouldn't look like that after the draining journey that had to be taken to obtain the ghostwalker? nobody would expect you to look like robloxia's top model after almost surrendering your own consciousness.

and to make matters worse for the capacity of shit you could handle today, you just had to run into him? hopefully a turitopolis vendor can sell you a break, once you get past this jerk of course.

unbothered by his hostility, you trudge on forward, fully intent on simply brushing him off and ignoring him. but griefer continues his fit, stepping directly in your way when you attempt to go around.

"0HH, 1 S33. Y0U TH1NK Y0U'R3 AB0V3 M3, D0N'T Y0U? JUST CUZ Y0U G0T TH3 JUMP 0N M3??" venom weaves its way into his words, the burning scarlet in his eyes painting his fury. "Y0U TH1NK Y0U C4N JUST H0LD M3 1N TH3 P4LM 0F Y0UR H4ND THEN THR0W M3 4W4Y WH3N Y0U G3T WH4T Y0U W4NT-4CK!" his voice cracks at the end right before he keels over coughing, holding his side. his body twitches and shakes violently as he wheezes violently.

you look down at him at your feet, pity swimming in your eyes. your hand almost starts to reach for him, but it retreats. even when he's like this, he insists on acting tough, a destructive habit that you've recognized throughout your relationship with him.

you stoop to his level, holding your knees as you gently speak. "when will you learn your limits, brad? you should know to take it easy when you're ill." the lack of mockery or bite only serves to piss him off even more. you're only proving his point, talking to him in that collected and reasonable voice like you care about him. absolutely and disgustingly patronizing.

he's not the reckless and disorganized fool you think he is, and you're not the perfect savior you think you are.

"...KN0CK 1T 0FF. QU1T 4CT1NG L1KE Y0U'R3 TH3 H3R0." he lifts his head, glaring up at you with a bitter grin that shows off his fangs. "B3C4US3 Y0U'R3 JU5T AS W34K 4S M3." at the look of offense that flashes across your eyes, he laughs, a gravelly and garbled noise. he knows he struck a nerve, because he knows all the ways to get under your skin.

deep down, you really are still the same. even if your clothes, your relationships, and the look in your eyes change, who you are at your core still remains.

you huff, narrowing your eyes at griefer. "i'm not weak. if you knew what i've gone through since i beat you, you wouldn't dare say that to my face."

he raises a brow, an invite, and leans in, a direct challenge. "Y34H? L1KE WH4T?"

"like-! .... like..." you trail off, suddenly realizing the metaphorical corner he's backed you into. for a moment, you're left dumbfoundedly opening and closing your mouth again like a goldfish, as if the words died in your throat and you were releasing their ghosts.

what happened to you in the manor.. are you prepared to say? are you prepared to hear griefer viciously mock you for losing your damn mind because there's no way in hell all of that happened?

are you alone?

"...stuff." you visibly cringe at how small you suddenly sound, in comparison to how big you were talking only moments ago. and griefer capitalizes on it.

"0H Y34, R3334L SP3C1F1C. I C0ULD CRY FR0M H0W S4D Y0UR ST0RY IS. LOL." he balls his fists and brings them to next to his eyes, mimicking crying as he sarcastically sneers at you.

a deep rage boils within you at the taunting, your righteous desire to defend yourself successfully overturning your initial worries of being seen as hysterical. you think you can feel a vein pop in your forehead. curse griefer and his disturbing amount of experience in trolling and trash-talking online.

admitting an exasperated defeat, you throw your hands in the air. "FINE!! gosh, just- promise not to laugh. or call me crazy. or i'll beat you up a second time."

"N0 PR0M1SES."

you roll your eyes, before carefully regaling your tale to griefer. the whole time, you found that your eyes could never quite stay on his face. maybe you were afraid to face him, to face his judgement. even when you could tell he was staring right at you in your peripheral.

griefer knows you. he knows you better than anyone, and he'd fight anyone who claims otherwise. he knows you're not one to lie or make up fables to preserve your reputation. maybe that's why he listens more intently than he planned to, giving you his undivided attention. even if you do sound like a raving lunatic.

"...and i think that's about it. pretty crazy." you shrug, hoping it would alleviate the anxiety weighing on you. it does not.

"S0 Y0U'R3 T3LL1NG M3 Y0UR 0WN 3M0T10NS JUMP3D Y0U."

you sheepishly add on, "...well, i beat them too."

after a drawn out pause that made your heart rate raise with every second, he clicks his tongue. "W0W. 4ND Y0U W3R3 T4LK1NG 4LL TH4T CR4P 4B0UT "L34RN1NG MY L1M1TS", F@#$ING HYP0CR1T3." playfully, he pushes you, firmly enough to convey his annoyance but lightly enough to not actually injure you.

"wh- that's waaaay different!! if i could handle you, i could handle a lot of things." your body fills with warmth again, almost like the clouds of doubt and fear circling your mind cleared for a sun of relief. to the outsider, it may seem strange to feel happy about being cursed out. but to you, it was griefer's unorthodox way of telling you he's worried about you too.

"H4H. G3T A L04D 0F T0UGH GUY H3R3." you sigh as griefer leans back, letting his arms support him as he remains sat on the ground. he seems to be thinking critically, a rare moment for him. "... R3M1NDS M3 0F TH0S3 D4MN V01CES. T4LK1NG A BUNCH OF TR4SH JUST TO S33 Y0U F41L."

you move to sit by his side and finally look at him, smiling a bit. "guess we're both just some weak suckers. but at least we've got each other."

he scoffs, "Y0U'R3 SUCH A S4P, IT'S CR1NG3." but try as he might to pretend he's above all that 'friendship' stuff, you don't miss how he doesn't say anything to deny it. and it makes you giggle.

because unfortunately for him, griefer still cares. unfortunately, he still likes you. and he can be called a 'white knight' or a 'doormat' or a 'simp' or whatever for it.

it's you two versus the world. like it's always been.

(parade postscript: griefer ragebaiting reader so hard that you open up about your problems)

[mrrharper]

Elevator Malfunction

Greg was walking along the corridor. He had just finished his last lecture for the day and was ready to leave the campus and go get something to eat. He got to the staircase but decided he didn't feel like walking down all these stairs, so he pushed a button for an elevator instead.

As he waited for it to come to the floor he was currently on someone walked up to the elevator and stood next to him, also wanting to give their legs a break. Greg looked to his left, then quickly moved his head back. That was Brad Petrović, one of the stars of their university's soccer team.

One look at the jock was enough for Greg to feel his cock hardening in his pants. He felt he was turning red and he hoped no one would see him getting a boner. From his perspective Brad was a perfect male specimen, and exactly Greg's type - clearly muscular but not bulky, tall with a masculine jaw, short hair, thick thighs, that permament arrogant smirk on his face, a constant aura of sweat and musk. Greg, a closeted gay man and an obvious nerd, knew that the chances of getting a guy like that in bed with him were very slim, but he could always dream.

He took another quick glance at Brad. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, which allowed Greg to just barely see his hairy armpit and chest. He was now sure his boner would not disappear for as long as he was in close proximity with the soccer bro.

The elevator had finally arrived and the doors opened. Brad went in first, followed by Greg who constantly made sure there was distance between them. And he made sure his shirt was hiding the bulge in his pants. The jock then pushed the "ground floor" button and the eevator began slowly moving down.

Greg turned his eyes for a split second and saw a few beads of sweat run down Brad's arm. Fuck, he was hot. He wanted to look again, but the more rational side of his brain prevented him from doing that, aftaid the athlete would notice, call him a perv or maybe beat him up.

They were around halfway down when the elevator wobbled. Both guys looked around but saw nothing that would suggest something was wrong. But then the lights flickered and the elevator suddenly stopped. Greg, who wasn't expecting this sudden change in velocity didn't have the time to grab anything, so he lost balance, fell down on the ground, bumping into Brad and then crashing his head against the floor, loosing consciousness for a moment.

A few moments later Greg opened his eyes and was instantly blinded by the light shining from the elevator's ceiling. He blinked a few times and put his hand over his face, trying to shield his sensitive eyeballs from the bright lamp above him. He slowly dragged his body off the floor and sat down, already feeling pain radiating from the back of his head.

He turned his head and-- he blinked quickly a few times, because he couldn't believe what he saw. He saw himself, his very own body standing up and looking towards him. Greg was sure he also saw confision on his-- his body's face, but it was quickly replaced by concern.

"Brad, you're alright? Oh my god, I'm so sorry I bumped into you. Are you okay?"

Brad? He wasn't Brad, he was-- Holy fuck! Greg looked down and saw the jersey Brad was wearing on his torso. He almost jumped and turned towards the mirror on the back wall of the elevator. A confused Brad Petrović looked back at him.

"Jesus Christ, what happened?" he asked aloud, then flincked, surprised by the deep voice that he was apparently in control of.

"I... I don't know" He heard his own voice behind him and turned around to see... No, he was certain he was looking at himself. This must have been a result of a concussion. He's never experienced soemthing like this but this was the most logical explanation. Yes, this would end in a moment. "I think the elevator stopped suddenly for some reason and I lost balance, and then... then I fell onto you, and then we both... Are you sure you're okay?"

"No" Greg muttered under his breath.

"Oh god, you have a concussion? Crap, we need a doctor to have a look at you" his body stood next to him. This was a reasonable suggestion. But Greg was not really thinking straight right now.

"No!" he barked a little louder than he wanted to. "I... I need to get home."

"Oh, uhm... of course, of course" The other Greg quickly took a few steps back. Then they heard a ding and the doors of the elevator slowly opened. Greg watched as his very own body walked out of the elevator and was gone in justa few seconds. The real Greg, now seemingly occupying the body of a soccer jock bro, stood still, failing to comprehend what was happening around him.

The doors started to close and Greg quickly jumped out of the elevator. He took a few deep breaths and thought about what should he do. He had now convinced himself that all this was the result of him injuring his head during the fall and it would all go away in a few minutes. Maybe hours. Hopefully not days. Oh god, he wanted to go home so bad. He quickly left the building and made his way to his dorm on the other side of the campus.

As he walked he realized his dick had been hard this entire time. And since he seemed to be wearing gym shorts it was way more visible. Greg looked around, hoping there weren't many people who would witness him with a hard on in public. Thankfully the area was not very busy.

He got to his room, unlocked the door and-- wait a minute! This wasn't his room. He took a step inside and instead of his small and tidy space, he saw a fairly large room that almost certainly belonged to a jock. A bunch of posters of various athletes hanging on walls, dirty gym gear laying everywhere, the table covered with empty beers, boxes of protein powder, a few condoms even, and of course the smell of sweat. This was Brad's dorm room. How did he get here?

A thought appeared in his head. It was muscle memory that took him here. Brad's muscle memory. This was not a concussion. Greg's mind was currently occupying Brad Petrović's body. He closed the door behind him and looked around, then grabbed his head with both hands. This couldn't be happening, this was just a dream!

He slowly went further into the room, then stopped as he felt he stepped onto something. Greg looked down and picked up a pair of boxers, with clearly visible sweat and cum stains. The smell was intoxicating. He suddenly thought about smelling, maybe even licking the underwear that was clearly used by the real Brad fairly recently. His cock reacted positively to this possibility, but Greg wouldn't allow himself to use his terrible position like this.

Although... would it be that wrong? It would get rid of his boner, allowing him to think more clearly. No one would have to know, he was all alone in this room.

Greg sat down on the couch standing in the middle of the room and took off his shorts and briefs in one, brief motion, freeing his hard cock. He then put the dirty boxers up to his nose and breathed in loudly. It felt like getting high, the manly smells filling up his nostrils. His hand gravitated to his dick and started stroking it as he imagined worshiping this body, all of its hard muscles, the armpits, the thighs, the crotch.

He sped up his hand movements and moand loudly, still pushing the underwear against his face. He started licking the material and another wave of lust came over him. He was overwhelmed with what he was feeling, his brain overridden by his horny instincts. He thought he could taste the cum and it got him even more excited, if it was even possible.

As he continued stroking though, something happened. The images he had in his head of Brad's flexed arms that revealed two sweaty armpits turned into a topless woman waving her boobs in front of him.

This would be enough to raise concerns, but for the moment Greg was fully controlled by the horny part of his brain, which didn't allow any critical thoughts to arise. He just continued jerking off, not realizing that his dick got even harder the moment the images in his head changed.

It didn't stop there. Next came a memory (wait, a memory?) of Brad eating pussy of some random chick. Greg continued stroking and licking the cum off of the boxers while his head became filled with images of Brad Petrović having sex with a bunch of women. No alarms went off in his head, he seemed to get more horny the longer he played with his dick.

A certain scene got stuck in Greg's head - Brad fucking a blond haired girl, letting his primal instincts control him. As he leaned in to touch one of the girl's breasts Greg finally got over the edge. He came harder than ever before, his jizz landing on his hand, jersey and the couch.

Brad cleaned his hand with the boxers he was holding for some reason, then threw then on the floor and immediately forgot about them. Instead he thought about that blond chick - Beth. Fuck, he needed to find her again. He heard his phone ringing. Oh fuck, he was supposed to meet with Garrett and Trevor at the gym! He quickly stood up and ran out of his room with only his phone in his hand. It was time to get jacked, then find some pussy later. Shit, Brad loved his jock life.

[changetyre]

Make a wish

SUMMARY: It's Ivy's 2nd Birthday and her birthday wish is a little bigger than you'd expected. Part of Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: None?

A/N: Requested over on wattpad ;)

"Oh no Max the party hats, I forgot to get party hats." Your heart sunk to your stomach. 

"No, I bought some." Max calmed you down. 

Today was Ivy's 2nd birthday and she had been so insistent about celebrating her birthday at a race with her Papa and Uncles despite you telling her she could have a big birthday party at home with her friends. Ivy almost cried when you suggested something else wanting nothing more but to be at the "waces!" for her birthday. 

Despite this, you still wanted her birthday to have somewhat of a little celebration so you'd spent days making and decorating cupcakes to take to the paddock and buying some decorations for Ivy. 

You'd wanted everything to be a surprise so you'd mostly work at night so that the girls didn't see you because you also knew that if Lea saw anything she would definitely say something since she was as good at keeping secrets as her uncle Lando.  

But Max could tell how stressed and tired you'd grown with trying to get everything perfect for her and he was glad it was finally the day so you could relax a little. You'd woken up earlier to get the stuff in the car so that Brad could drive it to the track before you arrived with Max, Ivy, and Lea. 

"Okay, I'll go now." Brad got in the car to drive off. 

"Wait no did I bring down the streamers?" You asked. 

"Yes," Max answered waving Brad away. 

"Wait what about the-" 

"Schatje, everything's there." Max cupped your face to get you to look at him. 

"But what if-" 

"If it's not she won't even notice darling, it'll be perfect because we'll be there." Max kissed you not letting you argue further. He could feel you relax in his arms. 

"I'm sorry, I just want everything to be perfect." You hugged your husband tightly. 

"You'll never reach perfection baby, trust me I've tried" Max kissed your head. "But you're close enough and Ivy's gonna love whatever we do for her." 

 __________

"PAPA WOOK!" Ivy yelled excitedly as she ran out of her room. 

Max turned to see his daughter in a big puffy Belle dress which she had begged him to buy for her birthday. 

"Oh my god is that Belle?" Max gasped dramatically. 

You stood by the door watching the interaction with loving eyes. 

"No Papa is me Iby!" Ivy ran up to her dad who lifted her up and twirled her around. 

"How's my gorgeous birthday girl?" Max kissed her cheeks. 

"Papa I tuwn two." Ivy held up her tiny hand trying to hold up 2 fingers but her third finger kept slipping out of the grasp of her little thumb and pinky finger. 

"Yes, you do and you need to stop growing." Max hugged her closer sighing at the idea of his girls growing up. 

A few seconds later Lea peaked her head around the corner of her room. "Mamma?" She called your name. 

"You ready baby?" You asked your daughter whom you'd also bought a dress for since you wanted to make sure she didn't feel left out. 

She nodded shyly, she'd started growing shy around you and her dad lately whenever she showed you something which you found adorable. 

She walked out wearing her Belle dress too except hers was the blue town dress and you'd helped her put a blue bow on her hair. 

"What a gorgeous princess!" Max also sighed dramatically while holding Ivy who clapped in his arms happily. 

You had breakfast quickly, the girls and you having pancakes as a treat for Ivy's birthday while Max had to eat something else to keep his weight down for getting in the car later. 

You strapped everyone into the car and off you went to the race track. 

________

As soon as you arrived there were cameras everywhere but by now the girls were used to it especially Lea who liked to pose for the cameras despite Max and you telling her to keep her head low. 

"Mama Wando?" Lea pointed down to the McLaren hospitality as you approached the Redbull hospitality. 

"Maybe we'll see him later Ivy he's not here yet." You lied and heard her sigh sadly as she rested her head on your shoulder.

You'd arrived at the track pretty early since Max didn't have to be on the track until around 4 today but as a surprise for Ivy's birthday, You and Max had asked the boys if they could arrive early to surprise Ivy for her birthday knowing she would just want to spend the day with her favorite people. 

You walked into the Redbull hospitality and Brad, Vicky, and other staff members were there ready just like planned. 

"Ivy look!" Max called out to his daughter who lifted her head from your shoulder to look towards her dead. 

"SURPRISE!" They called out as party poppers went off and confetti flew everywhere Ivy's eyes and mouth were wide open as she looked around the decorated room. 

She squealed in your arms squirming for you to put her down and as soon as you did she went running to where there were presents and a huge cake with a small fondant F1 car where Ivy was the driver wearing a tiara. 

"PAPA LOOK!" Ivy called out to her dad pointing at the top of the cake. 

"Wow, Ivy." Max gasped surprised as if he hadn't specifically asked for her cake. 

You looked around to look for Lea just to find her munching away at the snacks that were laid out across the snack table despite eating breakfast not long ago. Just as you turned again you noticed Lando, Dani, Carlos, and Charles at the door, Ivy too distracted looking at her cake with her dad to notice. 

"Come in." You waved the drivers over. Max had previously discussed all of this with Christian and he'd gladly accepted having the drivers over at the hospitality for a few hours for the celebration. 

"MY BABY!" Lando yelled as soon as he was inside. 

Ivy's head snapped immediately in the direction of her favorite person. "WANDOOOO!" She yelped as she ran as fast as her little feet could carry her towards her godfather. 

Lea hearing the commotion turned around and also ran towards her godfather, Daniel scooping her up in her arms happily. 

It didn't take long for the rest of the drivers to pile in and Ivy excitedly greeted everyone although always kept coming back to Lando's arms. 

Although you'd insisted they didn't have to bring anything you weren't surprised to see the gift table had doubled in numbers at all the gifts the drivers had bought only hoping they hadn't spent ridiculous amounts of money on a 2-year-old. 

"Happy Birthday dear Ivy! Happy Birthday to you!" Everyone finished singing as Max held Lea in his arms, you holding Lea in yours as you stood behind the birthday cake. Antoine, Louis, and Joris moved across taking pictures and videos of your family per their own request as you'd told them they didn't need to take any pictures and you'd be happy with simply their presence but they insisted. 

"Make a wish princess." Max lowered Ivy so she could blow at her candles. 

"I wish for a widdle broder!" Ivy yelled out unashamedly blowing out her candles afterwards. 

You and Max looked at each other in shock as everyone around you burst out laughing. "Uh, you're meant to say your wish in your head baby," Max told his daughter not really sure how to proceed. 

"hmm." She shrugged unbothered as she squirmed for Max to put her down. "Wando Cake!" She called out to her godfather who gladly came over to help Ivy start cutting the cake (horribly). 

After everyone got a piece and Lea sat sharing her piece with Lando on his lap you all sat and relaxed for a while, Max by your side as Lea played around with Joris and Charles whom she still had an obsession with. 

Max turned to you blinking hard three times, his little I love you gesture. "So what do you think about Ivy's wish huh?" Max asked you. 

You laughed at the thought. Max laughing with you. "If it's with you I want it all." You told him lovingly. 

"In another year?" Max dragged your chair closer to him so there was barely a gap between the both of you. 

"Sounds good to me." You smiled before Max kissed you lovingly. 

[gtx0s]

GUYS LOOK AT THIS SHIT kkkkkk

ok ok lemme explain

Max is Jimmy, like i said, but like HOW COULD HE NOT BE????? they’re bi, the main character, skate, and have that kinda sus rivalry with a veteran

PJ is a nerds, no way around it, it just fits

Bobby’s with the bullies, but ONLY bc they look like stoners, that’s it kkkk

Tank is OBVIOUSLY a jock, like he’d totally be the star player of that weird american football thing (i don’t get this gringo football tbh)

Brad, y’all already know

Beret, i put her with the greasers just cuz of the black outfit sorry

Roxanne and Stacey as non-clique students bc that was the only group left

and my goofysona as the exchange kid

more interactions:

Bonus:

[okaysonny]

okkkayy, what if jake got his gf pregnant before marriage what would his mom’s reaction be + other big deal members 😶😶?? (love your fics btww!!!)

ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY 😧 ╏ jake kim

a/n: unserious. and thanks anon!

you always use protection. plus, the pill is 99% effective at preventing this. and yet...

"...i'm pregnant"

★ jake stands there with a stupid look on his face because he's stupid.

★ to be honest, he doesn't want to bring a child into the world when he's leading big deal. jake wants to retire before even thinking about it. he loves you, but this isn't something he planned for.

★ has a serious discussion about the risks, making sure you understand the weight of the situation. still, he knows it's your choice in the end. once it's clear you want to keep the baby, jake respects your decision. he's the type to step up no matter what.

★ watches parenting videos at night while rubbing his temples.

★ tells minseon first 😬 this is the part that scares him the most.

★ his mom: pissed as hell 🤣

★ the second jake tells her, she puts out her cigarette with tight lips. he's already sweating.

"jake kim" "...yes, mother?" "are you telling me you got a girl pregnant before putting a ring on her finger?" "t-the thing is..." "like father, like son"

★ she’d ask all the hard questions: how are you going to raise a baby in this life? do you think this is fair to the child? are you ready for this kind of responsibility?

★ anddd i have a feeling that if you're from a 'normal' family, she'd have more reservations. not that minseon is classist, but y'know...

★ jake explains that you always did it safely, so the pregnancy wasn't from recklessness. he's aware of the risks, but it's your decision to keep the baby. he wants to step up and support you.

★ ...that does get her eyes to soften.

"well...in any case, i know you'll do a better job than your own father"

★ i think in canon right now, jake and his mother have a strained relationship. as far as we know, he only visits minseon when he needs something! 😅 + she resents that he supposedly hates his father...yet became a gangster like him and left her on her own...just like gapryong.

★ but minseon also knows that jake didn't inherit his womanizing side. she knows that he'll be a great father, even if he doesn't think so.

★ she may be tough, but deep down, she’s happy about a grandchild...even subtly offers to mind the baby if jake is too busy and you need a break.

★ she ends up cooking for you. the baby needs to be healthy.

now...he needs to tell big deal...

★ sinu would be so happy for jake. he cares about him like a younger brother, so once the initial shock settles, he’d smile and congratulate him properly.

but then it would hit him.

jake, who never seemed to care about relationships in the first place, is having a kid before him.

"god...yeonhui is gonna have a field day with this. you better start saving man. kids are expensive"

★ would yeonhui scare him as a joke? absolutely.

"sinu, what if i accidentally got pregnant? would you step up like jake?" "h-hold on..."

★ you already know jerry would do the absolute most 😭

★ immediately places a loyalty hand on jake's shoulder.

"boss…you’re going to be a father?" his voice is trembling, like jake just told him he's DYING. "i will lay down my life for this child. it is my duty as number 2" "jerry...i didn't even ask you to- are you crying?"

★ jerry starts researching baby vitamins + recommending parenting books. already thinking about making the child wear a tiny big deal jacket.

★ jason and brad feel like the same characters to me. i'm sorry. i guess jason is portrayed as more blunt and serious?

"jake...don't take this the wrong way, but i don't think you know anything about babies" "you don't think i know that, jason?"

★ the girls knit a baby blanket together :') and make one of those "we're so excited to meet you" videos.

★ jake would not half ass being a dad. he’d try his hardest to balance big deal and fatherhood, even though it won’t be easy. but the baby will be loved. from the parents, the girls and big deal.

bonus!

lineman leans back in his chair, surveying the small pile of cash on the table. "alright, i’m locking in my bet — it’s a boy"

lua scoffs. "nah, you’re wrong. it’s definitely a girl. and she’s gonna have him wrapped around her finger before she can talk"

lineman shakes his head. "a girl? we’d have to protect her from all the freaks in this city. a boy would be easier"

"a boy would be just as much trouble!" she rolls her eyes. "but imagine boss jake with a daughter. he’d be like, the ultimate girl dad"

"tch, we’ll see about that. alright, bets are at 50/50. let's see if anyone else wants to-"

"...guys" an all too familiar voice booms behind them.

lineman and lua turn to look at jerry like children caught with the cookie jar.

"you’re betting on boss jake’s child? his future offspring?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "this is incredibly inappropriate"

lineman and lua exchange a guilty glance.

lua has the courage to speak. "i mean…yeah, but—"

"shame on you two" jerry crosses his arms. "both of them deserve respect, not this gambling on their unborn child’s gender"

lineman suddenly has an idea. "so jerry...you must think it's a girl, right?"

jerry nods. "obviously. can't you see it? imagine her holding jake's pinkie with her tiny little hands"

lua smirks, catching lineman's drift as he discreetly slides a notepad to her. "so hypothetically...you'd place a bet on girl?"

he closes his eyes, lost in thought. "exactly. she’d teach him patience, unconditional love—"

lua nods, cutting him off as she jots notes down. "mhm. yeah. and how much are you putting down?"

jerry strokes his chin. "i'd say...30,000 won, easy-"

he blinks. "wait..."

jerry's jaw drops, the betrayal evident on his face. "you tricked me"

lineman grins, holding his hands up. "of course not. you just wanna see boss jake become a girl dad. that’s passion"

jerry opens his mouth to argue — then closes it. he shamefully places cash on the table.

"this stays between us" he whispers, glancing from side to side.

lua nods in satisfaction. "of course"

jason walks by, looking at the money on the table. "you guys are still on this? fine, put me down for a boy. 75,000 won"

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

jake blinks in disbelief when the truth gets exposed. "...you guys are betting? on my child?"

lineman, lua, and jason whistle, staring at the wall in fascination.

jake looks at jerry, expecting some shame.

jerry looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "...i was tricked"

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”