#and being obnoxious about credit as early as i am

[comfycozycrossfox]

not a big fan of being forced to play games i want no part in, however, even less of a fan of losing said games.

[cinnamonest]

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

[utilitycaster]

I would say this is probably more a controversial opinion rather than an unpopular opinion, but I don't think Laudna and Imogen would be a popular ship if it weren't Laura and Marisha playing them. It feels like there is a weird obsession with shipping their characters together that almost feels like shipping Laura and Marisha together. I just get weird parasocial vibes from it all

I actually cannot rate this because I am not entirely sure, but I will, in exchange, talk through it.

I have a perhaps interesting perspective in that due to the fact that I've been vocal about what I would want from this ship to give a shit from fairly early on, I've attracted people who strongly disagree from just as early on. I also do from time to time go through some, at least, of my blocklist, and see if I blocked in a fit of pique vs. due to someone being actually unpleasant on my posts.

What this means is that I happen to know that the people who got mad at me on main (rather than on anon) during the gnarlrock fight? Most of them are gone - either fully gone from Tumblr, or else they have barely posted about Critical Role in months. A lot of the people who got mad at everyone who entertained the idea that it would not be the worst thing, narratively, if Laudna could not be revived? Also not around or significantly less present in the fandom than they were a year ago. A good deal of the people who were obnoxious early this year about how Imogen is actually so good and she's trying so hard and how dare you point out her flaws are still around, but in a much reduced capacity and mostly reblog fic and art with no meta to be found. There aren't really arguments or meta anymore and there's been pretty much full turnover of that particular corner of the fandom since the start of the campaign, at least among people who were primarily watching for that.

I have openly noted that the fandom tends to ship Marisha and Laura's characters (and Liam and Taliesin's for that matter) without any real consideration of character (or for that matter, player) chemistry and I've never seen any attempt to explain it on that broader scale (ie, not just for a specific pairing) that was from someone in favor so I only have my own hypotheses to work with, and they are admittedly not in good faith and as such I don't want to make an assumption as to why. I will say that you're right that there is a weird parasocial thing going on, and that might still be present on Twitter. But honestly? I think now it's just boilerplate roving slash; I used to assume that this was a continuation of the Vex and Keyleth to Beau and Jester throughline but actually I think most of those people gave up at least a year ago, at least on Tumblr. I think it's mostly just a bunch of people who were told "hey, F/F ship over here" and rushed over, and who would (to their credit) have liked an actually good F/F ship that wasn't between Marisha and Laura (so, Beauyasha) just as much.

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

My experience with Gotham Knights... (The Show). (disclaimer: You should probably watch the show first before reading my thoughts about it, since there will be spoilers for the entire show).

Ah, Gotham Knights. A show that was review bombed by almost everyone, before it had even been released...

(Which is counterproductive btw, I mean how am I to trust a "critic's" opinion on anything if they don't even check the damn thing out first?)

A polarizing show for sure, I found myself pleasantly surprised with the mysterious and cut-throat world it set up.

It's about the inexplicable murder of Bruce Wayne and the consequential framing of his adopted son, Turner Hayes.

The characters were entertaining.

Even though they were total hipsters I didn't really find any one of them unbearable to watch.... I'm sorry, but I found them likable. Harper came pretty close to unlikable a few times early on, but gratefully she never crossed the line into unlikabilty. Plus her motivations were mostly very sweet.

Turner was pleasant for an original character. He wasn't cocky or obnoxious, and he never overtook the entire show. Cullen was a nice younger brother character to play off of Harper, and he just happened to be trans. And while it wasn't swept under the rug by any means, it certainly wasn't his only trait either. He was a good example of representation that didn't feel pandering (or) overshadowed and ignored.

Duela (originally only appearing in the comics) was crazy but not just a Joker ripoff. And she was delightfully animated and unhinged to watch. I enjoyed her struggles with her parentage/upbringing (as one would), and the twists and turns within her family history.

While it had some of the classic CW staples in it, I thought they had a decent balance between campy superhero mumbojumbo, and serious 'edgy' plotlines.

The Court of Owls (a under-utilized big bad in the comics) was admittedly a bit underwhelming and ridiculous in some ways, but it was a fun concept... Having a high society-type cult of rich assholes who rule over Gotham, and secretly pull the strings to every happening that goes on there... was something new.

It was interesting to see a group of outcasts that were in WAY over their heads, trying to deal with a common enemy that had eyes and ears everywhere.

Misha Collins as Harvey Dent was a casting stroke of genius: he's understated and has a trustworthy, and yet, unpredictable quality that really lends himself to the: politician with aspirations to help the people of Gotham with a hidden dark side... character well.

Now for my issues with the series:

Something that annoyed me, was how Cullen would figure things out like a damn puzzle master and the other characters would congratulate themselves as geniuses... Despite most the reveals and revelations to said riddles being directly due to Cullen's connecting of the dots. It wasn't a big thing by any means, but it kind of irked me... I mean Harper and Stephanie are the "smart ones"— and even though they had moments to shine in that respect, I honestly thought that Cullen was ultimately "the smart one" in the group. Yet he never got nearly enough credit as such.

Another thing was that as the series waned on mostly episodes 9 through 11— it started to get a little unfocused... hallucinogenic poison and visions of the Batman, it was in these episodes that the CW really started to set in.

(Harvey Dent seizing up, during a mental battle with both the good and dark parts of himself was particularly funny.)

Admittedly, it kind of went into hyper speed in the second half... Relationships bloomed and blossomed seemingly overnight— revelations slapped viewers in the face, And Harvey Dent went mad and madder.

I was bothered by Lincoln's involvement. With all the clues and scenes as they were, it just didn't make any sense. Why would Lincoln send himself this so-called death calling card? Why would he have himself stabbed by his own assassin? A stabbing that almost killed him and put him in a temporary coma no less!? IT JUST DIDN'T ADD UP. The twist on his wife was a shock, but even with her pulling the strings behind said attempted assassination, it still made little sense.

That is till the other twists came....

The "other" Harvey didn't make too much sense either, he was mostly a nut job with a seedy list of crimes spotting his history. Two secret (and questionable) affairs, a couple murders, etc. but we never got to get into his motivations for these acts... Other than the murders of course. And it did ultimately take away from his overall intrigue—

There's a scene in the very last episode, both Duela and Harvey are being held captive. Both of them tied up and basically bound to blow up when the bomb in the same room, goes off.

Harvey and Duela talk and bond a little. And eventually Harvey finds that they're seemingly all out of options. With time ticking, and no sign of rescue showing up. He figures the only way out, is to bring out the "other Harvey". Since Harvey is a snake and most likely will find a way to weasel both himself, (and Duela) out of the situation.

Despite Duela's objections, he makes her promise to help bring him (original recipe Harv) back after they've both been freed.

This never comes to pass, since Harvey 2 is a total dick and ends up getting himself maimed and leaving Duela out to dry. This is probably the most mind boggling decision Harvey could've ever made.... Why would you allow a total psycho to take the metaphorical wheel, and expect them to do anything actually helpful? Why did you ever think he would give a shit about Duela? He left her to rot in prison for 17 years for crying out loud!?

Now you're looking stupid, cause you allowed yourself to be mutilated AND left your own daughter behind to die after promising to make up for all the lost time with her!

Douchebag Harvey did one thing right however— he did get away.

And what's the first thing he does with his newfound freedom? He pays Duela's mom a visit. (The woman who sold Duela out and let her be taken hostage by the Court of Owls). He tells her that she should be ashamed of her actions and that he's here to take care of her because she quote: "hurt their daughter."

...Which is true, she did betray Duela's trust.

BUT THIS IS THE DOUCHEBAG HARVEY TALKING! THE SAME GUY THAT JUST LEFT DUELA TO DIE AND LET HER LIVE IN ARKHAM ASYLUM FOR YEARS. WHY DOES HE GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HER "HURTING" DUELA?

This made no fucking sense. And it annoyed me to no end. Is Jane Doe a good mom? No. No she isn't. But let's please not make it out like other Harvey somehow "loved" his daughter either, okay?

I do believe that og Harvey loves her and would have loved her if he'd known about her.. but d-bag Harvey? Ain't no fucking way.

But let's get back to the positives:

I liked the pure absence of relationship drama. All the characters had chemistry with each other, but there were no love triangles or jealousy. Which is an accomplishment imo.... A teeny bop-drama without a massive focus on banal relationship drama? Now how can this be!?

Much like our friend Harvey, this show had two faces: One was a fun mystery/heist show about a bunch of wayward outcasts running against the clock to solve a murder and clear their names.

—And the other, was a soapy drama dealing in torrid relationships and CW type twists.

Overall, I had a good time watching this. It flew-by fast, and I personally wouldn't have minded watching more.

The characters were probably my favorite part of the series. They made a cute team that sometimes butted heads and didn't see eye to eye... I'm a sucker for that dynamic. (I mean, I grew up on the og Teen Titans, Justice League, and TMNT... What can I say? I love a good team up show.)

I think going into this with low expectations and all the critiques that people had put out there, actually saved it for me...

Because I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting a lot. But I definitely felt differently than the majority of people when I was done.

[kinzis-writing]

Only Exception | Robert “Bob” Floyd

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem! Mitchell! Reader, Rooster x Fem! Mitchell Reader (platonic)

Summary: Y/N Mitchell swore to herself that she would never allow herself to date or get involved with anyone from any branch of the military. After worrying about her father, the past few years, she knew that she never wanted to experience that worry for a significant other. After her father gets ordered back to California, she may just meet the one that ruins all her plans.

Request: Yes | No

Warning(s): swearing, slight angst, mentions of sexual material, top gun related themes, Top Gun: Maverick spoilers! Also timelines probably won’t add up for this imagine.

note from me: this is my first top gun one-shot and I am not sure how I feel about it. This may end up being really long or multiple parts. I personally wrote this because Bob is one of my favorite characters. I don’t feel like he gets enough love but that is just my opinion. I have always been one to like the characters who are more quiet and shy.

I have watched the original Top Gun multiple times (I thank my mother because she loves the original) and I’ve went out with my college friends and watched TGM four times now (i know). With this being said, I still do not know much about the navy or such. However, reader will have a nursing profession because I do know about that. I am currently a nursing student so... just so I can talk about one job that I actually know about. 

Update: this is now a mini series! *Not Edited*

Series Masterlist: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

Gif NOT mine, all credits to owner/maker. 

The wind blew through the y/c/h girl’s hair as she drove down the street. She had a feeling that she knew the exact reason her father had been called back into town. It was obvious that he had a job here, or else he wouldn’t be back. She also knew that there was a reason that her father had made her wait until Penny called her to tell her that her father was back in town. It did irritate the girl, that her own blood wouldn’t tell her that he was back. She would have appreciated a text or phone call instead of relying on his ex-girlfriend to tell his own daughter. 

pushing her anger and irritation to the side for this moment, she pulled into a parking space. The hard deck was already crowded and there was no doubt that more people would pile in as the night progressed. It was the best bar in town for the Navy folk and everyone in between. Y/N took a deep breathe, what was she preparing to hear, she wasn’t sure, yet she knew that she would need to prepare herself for whatever the outcome may be. Walking through the doors of the infamous bar sent her memories skyrocketing. She had been here many times, lately she had neglected the place due to her hectic work schedule. Y/N made sure to ignore the looks that some of the guests sent her or the obvious man-whores making comments. Luckily, the girl had inherited some of Pete’s attitude, meaning part of his cockiness rubbed off on her.

“Y/N,” Penny greeted with a smile causing Maverick to look over to his daughter. “Can I get you anything?”

Y/N gave a light smile to Penny as she sat on the barstool beside her dad, “No thanks, I have an early shift in the morning.” She dismissed as she heard cheering and chaos behind her. The girl rolled her eyes as she slightly turned her head noticing a tall blond-haired person in uniform. “Top gun students?” the younger girl spoke up as she waited for Penny or her father to answer her question.

Maverick cleared his throat before speaking, “Top Gun graduates.” He corrected his daughter making the younger girl turn to her father with a knowing look. “I’m teaching them, training them for a mission.”

“The best of the best?” Y/N asked turning back to look over at the pool table. She caught the obnoxious attitude of the two huddled around the table and the girl who seemed to be reconciling what he had started.

“Yeah.” Pete sighed. He knew that his daughter wasn’t dumb. She knew that if her father was training graduates that the mission had to be dangerous. She had been scared for her father enough to know that it was the case.

“Lovely.” She muttered before the bar doors opened and in walked her old best friend, she hadn’t seen him in years. The aviator glasses laid on his face until he pulled them off and let them hang on the neck of his white tank top. The Hawaiian shirt laid over top of his white tank unbuttoned. His style matching his father’s, that the girl had noticed in pictures that her father had kept. Y/N let a small smile grace her features knowing that her best friend had went through life doing what he wanted. She knew he deserved it; he deserved some sort of happiness. “I assume you knew he would be here?” she spoke up as she turned back to her father.

Penny gave the older man a knowing look causing him to sigh, “Yeah, trust me… it’s not my first option.” He added making his daughter roll her eyes. She knew that Bradley would never appear ready enough or old enough to please her dad. Simply because he didn’t even want him in the Navy, the same way he begged his daughter to have no interest in the military. He explained how he didn’t want his own daughter or Bradley to be a part of this, how he wanted a better life than this. Y/N knew there was a deeper story though. She just knew when to stop prying her dad for answers.

“Would he ever be ready to you?” Y/N asked her father giving him a knowing look. She watched as her father deflated as he looked for an answer to the girl’s question. She knew the answer already, she just wanted to see what her old man would say. Bradley had been angry with her father for some time now, to be fair, Bradley hadn’t been Y/N’s best friend for many years. Because of their ten-year age gap, y/n was more like his little sister. They had reconnected when she was working as a travel nurse, and she happened to have a contract at a hospital close to where he was working at the time. That was a couple years ago when she was a fresh nurse.

 Instead of waiting for a reply she knew wasn’t coming, she got up out of her seat and made her way over to the group of pilots. Bradley was in a conversation with the only girl pilot in their group before Y/N interrupted. “Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t Bradley Bradshaw.” She spoke up causing the group of Pilots to turn their attention to her. Y/N Crossed her arms over herself as a smirk made its way onto her face. 

“Y/N?” Bradley’s voice sounded surprised to say the least. Within the next minute Y/N was wrapped up in a tight hug from her previous best friend. “It’s been so long, how’ve you been?” he asked quietly as they slowly parted from the hug. 

“Besides getting a new job and living here for the next couple years, not much.” The Mitchell girl shrugged as she looked over and noticed that the two were the center of attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She added causing her friend to turn and look at his fellow pilots.

 Bradley placed his arm over her shoulder before turning more towards Phoenix. “This is Y/N, I basically grew up with her.” He announced as a few of the pilot’s murmured greetings and went back to what they were doing. Natasha was the first to walk over and introduce herself, insisting that the newbie call her Phoenix.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing being friends with Rooster?” The tall obnoxious blond-haired person from earlier spoke up. He wore a smirk on his face, one that Y/N knew. It was common for the same type of boys to have that overconfident smirk about them. “I’m sure I could show you a better time.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she eyed the man across the pool table, his cue laid on his relaxed shoulders. Almost like he was enjoying being her center of attention, yet he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted from the girl. “I don’t get involved with any branch of the military,” Y/N announced with her eyes narrowed in slits. If she hadn’t remembered the bar sign, she would have added another smart remark. However, the girl didn’t feel like buying a round for everyone in the bar tonight. 

He muttered a reply with a smirk before going back to playing pool with the other boys. Before the guy, who she learned was Hangman challenged Rooster in pool. Y/N rolled her eyes but stepped away, she turned to go back towards the bar before noticing one of the men that she didn’t talk to yet. She didn’t want to just walk up to him and be blunt or seem too interested in new people. He stuck out to her though, mainly because he didn’t seem to be cocky like the others, he was quieter and seemed to keep to himself. That was rare to find in people like him. Even Rooster was cocky about some things. Pushing her annoying thoughts away, she walked over to the unknown man and leaned against the wall next to him. “Hey,” She started causing him to look around a moment before turning his gaze up to meet hers. Since he was sitting on a stool, and she was standing. “We haven’t met yet, y/n.” she introduced as she held her hand out. 

The guy reached his hand out and shook hers, “Bob.” He mumbled. Y/N gave him a small smile before he released her hand. The girl went to say something else before Penny rang the bell and everyone started chanting. Hangman and his fellow pilots were quick to get to the bar. The girl knew what was happening, whoever had gotten the bell rang on them was being tossed out of the bar.

“So, how do you like being a pilot?” Y/N asked bob over all the noise. Her attention was on the boy with glasses in front of her, until she noticed the biker jacket on the guy that Hangman and his friends were throwing out. “Oh, shit.” The girl mumbled to herself.

“I’m actually- “Bob started until he noticed the look on her face. She looked worried for a moment before she stood up and gave the man apologetic eyes.

“I have to go, but I hope we can finish this conversation sometime.” She told him honestly with a smile before pushing herself off the wall and out of the bar. Y/N left without wishing anyone a goodbye as she went outside to make sure her father was okay after being thrown out.

⁂⁍

Y/N was pissed, that was the best way to describe what the woman was feeling at this very moment. She had shown up to her shift early this morning and had a wonderful day, until lunch break. Too many things happened in her life currently. Someone had called and reported her for no reason, she tried to tell her bosses that it was more than likely a family member of the woman she had been taking care of. The daughter of the woman was a pain to deal with every time she came to visit. She got mad if the nurses weren’t there to get Ice chips right when the call light goes off. Y/N could understand if it was an emergency but reporting her over delayed ice chips or delayed water refills was a joke. She was busting her ass for her patients because she knew they deserved the best.

“Y/N, you’re off work early.” Penny greeted cautiously. Never had the Mitchell girl came into the bar when her four shifts in a row started. She also never came to the bar in her scrubs which is what she was currently wearing. “Can I get you something?”

“Something strong please.” Y/N muttered while taking a seat at the bar. Her hand was holding her head up as her elbow rested on the bar that Penny had just wiped off. She knew that her father would be done teaching his first class today and he would be here. That’s when she would have to face the music and tell her dad the cold hard truth. “Thank you.” She thanked the older woman as she laid a glass in front of her.

Just as she had predicted, her father came into the bar an hour or two after she got there. She hated having to admit to her father what happened. It wasn’t like she couldn’t live, they had to pay her contract that she signed out, but it was the fact that she had lost her job. This job had guaranteed her in one place for the next three years.

“Y/N, you’re off work early.” Pete stated as he took the seat next to his daughter. Penny laid a beer in front of him as he thanked her before turning back to his daughter. “I thought your first day was a 16?”

Y/N sighed as tears welled up in her eyes, her gaze dropped down to her drink as she tried her best to blink the tears away. “They let me go.” She mumbled as she took a deep breath. “They paid out my contract and got rid of me.” Y/N picked up her glass and took a drink before sitting it back down.

“Did they mention what happened?” Pete asked his daughter softly. He hated that this happened to his daughter, especially when he knew how hard she worked.

“Some daughters of one of my patients called to report me three separate times. The same old asshat of a Karen.” Y/N stated as she rubbed her eyes to get rid of the tears. She was tired and upset, more than she had ever been in her life. “It was the same ones who got mad over ice chips and drinks being delayed. That’s why I got reported. I swear that was the only reason.” She promised. All the girl could do was feel disappointed in herself. She wasn’t sure what to do, she knew that she had to be looking for a new job to survive.

Penny gave the girl an apologetic look before leaning over the bar in between the daughter and father duo. “I can let you work here until you find another nursing job.” Penny offered. Y/N gave her a thankful smile but declined her offer. Afterall, she didn’t study for four years just to let her degree go to waste.

“I could try to get you an interview in our med unit on base.” Her father offered knowing that his daughter wanted nothing to do with the navy boys that would see her the most. He was against her being in any part of the navy, but he did want her to get back on her feet.

“Thanks dad, but that will be my last option.” Y/N told her father honestly as she traced her finger around the rim of her glass. “I’ll use the money they had to give me to live while I look for something else.” That was the most logical to her. She didn’t want to be in a job where she hated the facility or where her father is the reason, she got the job. Y/N knew that it wouldn’t hurt her to have a small vacation either. It would be good for her to have some free time and be able to relax a bit.

The girl zoned out as her dad and Penny engaged in a conversation, with the time it was about to get packed. Pete’s class had already joined each other in the back where they usually stay and the chaos they were causing. Y/N’s gaze landed over to Bob who was talking to Phoenix before the girl stood up and started walking towards the bar. The unfinished conversation hung over her, making her want to go over and spark up the conversation. So, without a further thought, the girl made her way over to the quiet navy man.

“Bob,” Y/N spoke softly so she wouldn’t scare the man. He turned to face her, a small smile appearing when he noticed the girl. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and her scrubs marked every curve of her body, not that she got them tight. It was just the brand she was wearing that day; she would admit that she had some looser ones at home.

“Hi.” Bob said, almost sheepishly as he noticed her scrubs and her appearance. He would be lying if he told anyone that the girl in front of him was not attractive. Of course, he thought she was gorgeous. How could he not?

Y/N let out a short giggle as she took the seat next to him, “hey.” She replied before noticing Bradley’s gaze from across the pool table. She sent him a smile with a wave, he returned the smile before turning back to the game in front of him. “I rushed out yesterday so I thought we could finish our conversation.” She enlightened as she turned towards him a bit.

“Oh,” Bob nodded as he noticed the girl’s eyes glisten with an emotion he could not decipher.

“I didn’t get an answer to my first question,” Y/N started.

“Oh, uh, I’m actually not a pilot.” He announced to the girl beside of him. “I’m a wso.”

Y/N nodded understanding that he would not be the one flying the jet. She had grown up listening to her father tell her stories about the navy and what he did for work. Of course, it was not exactly well known around the younger lieutenants that Maverick even had a daughter. After all, he was known to be one of the fastest, if not the fastest, flyer in the navy. “Is bob your callsign or your name?”

“Both, well my real name is Robert.” He explained as he grabbed his drink off the ledge beside the two of them. “Everyone just calls me Bob.”

“Ah, well…” Y/N trailed as she thought about her next comment. She did not want to seem weird or come off too strong. “I like to have my own nickname for my friends.” She spoke lightly to see his reaction. “Like Bradley, well, Rooster to everyone else…” She started as she pointed her finger in the direction of her older friend. “When we were close, I used to call the guy Brownie.” She spoke up causing said man to look in the direction of his two friends.

Y/N laughed as a groan came from the Bradshaw boy’s mouth. She knew he hated that nickname since she started calling him that. Given they had a sibling relationship, so it started out to just annoy him, then she finally just called him that when they were together. She would not put Bob through the torture of having a horrible nickname like that. She just liked telling her new friends about what she put the poor boy through.

“Don’t start that again.” Bradley spoke up as he passed the two on his way to the bar. No doubt getting another drink if they were about to have that conversation.

Y/N glanced at Bob noticing the smile on his face, “I’m thinking Robby, or Bobby, it’s a hard choice.” She spoke up as Bob met her eyes.

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat up as she noticed how his gaze lingered a bit before he cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink. The Mitchell girl bit her lip to keep the grin off her face before looking away towards her old friend who had rejoined the group. Rooster sent the girl a knowing look with a smirk occupying his lips as him and Phoenix whispered to each other. No doubt talking about the two of them.

Y/N cleared her throat before standing up getting the shy boys attention, “I should get going, but uh, I hope to see you again bobby.” She mumbled softly before standing up. Rooster followed the girl out to her vehicle. Mainly to interrogate her about his classmate, but also to tell the girl goodbye. “I’ll see you later Bradley.” She bid goodbye as she hugged him quickly before letting go.

“I thought you weren’t into Navy guys?” He asked with a knowing smirk on his face.

The girl felt her face flush as she playfully rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She replied as she crossed her arms over her body. Honestly, she felt exposed with this conversation. She knew that there was some reason she wanted to get to know the quiet wso, but she was not sure exactly what it was. Maybe it was because he was vastly different than the other guys in the navy. She did not plan on ever dating a military guy, and her plans were still to only be friends with them. Nothing more and nothing less, even if it was against what she personally wanted. There was no way that she was going to risk the heartbreak of her lover never coming home. It was too much, and, in all honesty, she did not want a tragic event to ruin her life like that.

 “Come on, y/n/n.” Bradley spoke softly in hopes that she would not get defensive. “I am not saying you like him or anything right now. I just know how you act when you think a guys attractive, plus your type tends to be the quiet or shy ones.” He explained causing Y/N to sigh. 

She knew Bradley was right. He had been around her when she first started going on dates and her boyfriends always ended up being the quiet ones. The ones that had clean reputations, and she tried her best to stay away from man-whores. That was until her ex that she dated when she was eighteen, Bradley had been briefed on that story once they reconnected. Her ex-boyfriend had been in the military, the army to be exact, he was one of the overconfident ones. Hangman had reminded her of that ex plenty when she met him. He had proposed to the girl less than a year of dating and she agreed, mainly because she was hung up on his looks. Pete would tell you that he was a dick who did not deserve his daughter. Y/N knew that her father, friends, and everyone around her hated him and the way he treated her. He was not the best, always demanding that she move with him. She had eventually found out that he cheated on her while he was stationed elsewhere. There were multiple girls, yet the most recent one before she broke off the engagement found out that she was pregnant. That was the last straw for her, knowing that she knew better, and she swore to never date anyone in any kind of branch of the Military. Of course, worrying for her father did play a part in that. It just was not the main reason. 

“Of course, I’m attracted to Bob, it’s painfully obvious that he’s, my type.” Y/N muttered before running a nervous hand through her hair. She knew that if she kept talking to him or trying to hang out with him that she would eventually get feelings for the man. “I don’t want to get my heart broken again. Whether it being from mistakes or death.” 

Bradley sighed; he knew where she was coming from. The fear and pain of becoming close with someone in his line of work. Y/n knew about Goose’s death, and he knew that it was probably a reminder for her, just like it was him. The only fact that it was his father and he met him, and she did not. She had comforted him a bit when he got mad at her father and when he would want to talk about Goose. “Phoenix seems to think he’s a great guy and he has a clean reputation.” Rooster started slowly to see how his younger friend would take the information. “I get that you are scared, but you can’t use that your whole life. You need to do what makes you the happiest and if that ends up being Bob in the future… so be it.” 

Y/N shook her head and without saying anything else she got in her vehicle and left the bar. Leaving Bradley alone outside, until he sighed and walked back into the bar. 

⁂⁍

Y/N had woken up the next morning with a text message on her phone from Iceman. She rarely talked to the man since her college graduation. He was someone that she was close with as a kid and teen, mainly because that was who her father hung around the most. He was mentioning how they were looking for a nurse to be on standby at their North Island base. She knew that her father had something to do with Iceman offering her an interview if she wanted one, how did he have that connection? She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t want to refuse from him. It was better than her father going to the base himself and begging them to give her an interview. She had agreed to go in for the interview at 1200, which led her to drive to the base an hour before her interview. She knew that her father would be training the graduates so she could wait and talk to him about it after.

Y/N went to her interview and after she patiently waited for her father. She knew that she had the right qualifications to work at the base. Like she had told her father, the navy wasn’t what she wanted, plus she knew that if someone applied for the job that was in the navy that she would not get the job. All because she had grown up with a pilot father didn’t mean that she would have everything they preferred.

“Y/N?” A soft voice asked as the girl turned around. The Mitchell girl came face to face with Bob, who seemed like he was a bit sweaty and tired. “What are you doing here?”

She gave him a smile before opening her mouth to speak, “Well, you see Bobby, I happen to be a nurse and I got called here for an interview.” She explained. “They’re looking for a nurse to stay on base for the next few months and I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to understand exactly how my friends and dad work.”

“Dad?” Bob asked confused with a small smile on his face. “Was your father in the navy?”

“Actually- “Y/N started before she heard footsteps behind Bob. She noticed her father walking towards them causing her to give him a smile.

“Hey kiddo, what’re you doing here?” Maverick asked as he stopped beside one of his students and his daughter. Pete wasn’t stupid, he knew that his daughter hung around the hard deck because she met Bob. Of course, he knew her no navy boy rule as well, he just didn’t believe she would stick to it.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Y/N scoffed as she gave her father a look. The quiet boy looked between the two as they conversed, finally seeing the resemblance that he didn’t notice was there earlier. It was clear that Y/N probably got more looks from her mother because she wasn’t an exact replica of her father, but you could tell they were related.

Maverick gave her a look back before looking between her and the wso, “what’s going on here?” He knew how to make his daughter annoyed and how to intimidate one of his students.

“Uh, nothing Captain, I just- “Bob started before he started tripping over his words.

Y/N held in a giggle as she shot her dad slight glares, “We were just saying hi.” She replied with Bob giving her a thankful smile. “I’ll see you later, Bobby.” She told him with a grin as her and dad started walking down the hall, letting her father lead her wherever.

“Bobby?” Maverick asked his daughter with an eyebrow raised. The girl rolled her eyes as they entered the area where her father must be teaching. “You’re hanging out with Lieutenant Floyd now?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again before crossing her arms. “I am not, but so what if I was?” She shrugged as she sat down in one of the empty seats. The pilots must have been getting ready for a new exercise seeing as they were nowhere to be found. “What I waited around for is to ask why you told Ice about my job problem?”

“Honey,” Maverick sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. To be fair, he didn’t expect his friend to message his daughter about it. “He asked how you were since I was back in town. I told him.”

“I told you that I didn’t want your help getting this job,” Y/N sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. “If I got a job, especially like this, I don’t want it because I consider Ice an uncle or because Maverick is my father.”

“Job? Y/N, I didn’t mention him helping you get a job. I just told him that you were looking for one currently cause of the shit that your old facility put you through.” Pete honestly told his daughter. Y/N noticed the look in his eyes, he was telling the truth and she knew it. That meant that it was Ice who was trying to help the Mitchell girl get a job, but why? She understood that he was close to her father and that they were once like immediate family, but times have changed as they have grown older.

Y/N nodded bidding her father goodbye and leaving her dad and friends behind until they all made it to the bar tonight. The bar wouldn’t open for many hours, but she thought that she could go help Penny until training was over and she could get to know her new friend a bit more. “God, what am I getting myself into.” She muttered to herself as she left the base and headed towards the Hard Deck. She needed to set some boundaries for herself so she wouldn’t start catching feelings for Bob. She knew that if she didn’t set some ground rules that it would happen. Y/N Mitchell was lost in thought and slightly zoned out until she arrived at the bar, only one vehicle parked out front. She knew it had to be Penny’s.

The y/c/h girl placed her sunglasses on her dashboard before climbing out of her vehicle. The quickly pressed the ‘lock’ button on her car remote before jogging into the empty bar. Amelia sat at the bar with a notebook and pages sitting on the bar in front or her. Before the girl could speak up, Penny came out of the bag with a box that was clinking as she carried it. “You need some help?” Y/N offered as she walked closer to the older woman.

“I’m fine, thank you though.” Penny dismissed as she took in Y/N’s attire and how she was fixed up properly. “You have an interview today?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh escaping her, “Yeah, thanks to Iceman.” She told the woman as she sat a few seats down from Penny. The woman could tell by the girl’s tone that she didn’t want to talk about it. So, she did the opposite.

“I heard you have your eye on a certain Navy boy.” Penny brought up as she started wiping off the beer glasses and getting them ready for opening. Y/N groaned as she laid her forehead on the bar. It was bad enough that Bradley and her father thought they knew about it, now Penny was on her back about it too.

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?” Y/N sighed as she picked her head up and leaned against her hand. Her elbow was on the table keeping her head steady in her hand. “In case everyone forgot, I have a strict ‘no military’ boy policy in my life.” She muttered as Amelia turned to give the girl a knowing look.

“Please, even I can tell your sexually frustrated.” Amelia spoke up as she gave the girl closer to her age a look.

Penny scolded Amelia causing the teen to turn back to her homework. “Bob’s a nice guy, very shy.” Penny spoke softly as she continued her job. “I’m sure he wouldn’t break your heart.”

Y/N glanced at the two girls at the bar and sighed. “I’m not into Bob, can we just drop the topic.” She begged causing Penny to sigh but agree. That’s when the older woman finally accepted help from the younger adult.

⁂⁍

The bar had been open for about two hours and it was just a few minutes before the rush would start coming in. People would be getting off work and everything in between. Maverick had texted Penny and his daughter that he ended class a bit early today, just to give the team time to relax before tomorrow. Mainly because he had made them do pushups that day of.

“Here comes your ‘friend’” Penny stated before sliding down the bar and taking a new guy’s order. Y/N rolled her eyes at the older woman before taking a sip of her coke. She wasn’t drinking tonight, for many reasons, but the main one was she didn’t trust herself drunk or even tipsy. Especially with her Bobby in the same bar.

“Hey, Y/N.” Bob’s shyness was evident when he spoke up. More than likely because there were many men making comments to you which you just shrugged off. “Seems like we’re always in the same place.” He laughed nervously.

A grin spread across the girl’s face as she noticed his nerves. No doubt because one of his pilot friends put him up to this. “Well, Bobby, I do live here and now you know my father so…” She trailed off as she turned towards the boy that she hadn’t known for exceedingly long. “But, uh, I was actually wanting to get to know you.” Y/N spoke up, so Bob didn’t have to struggle.

“Do you, maybe, want to take a walk?” Bob offered.

A blush fanned Y/N’s cheeks as she impulsively grabbed Bob’s hand and lead him out of the bar and towards the beach. Penny watched with a smirk on her face as Phoenix and Bradley high-fived over at their table where they were seated. On the other hand, Pete knew that his daughter didn’t notice him come in the bar.

“She said she isn’t into him.” Pete spoke loud enough for Penny to hear in front of him.

“You honestly believe that?” Penny asked her ex-lover as she gave him a knowing look.

Pete shrugged, “If she isn’t, she will be.”

Back on the beach Y/N was walking with Bob, not realizing that their hands were still clasped together. It felt natural to the girl and yet she paid no mind to it. Bob had noticed and decided not to say anything. Mainly because he hadn’t had any sort of affection in a while. It’s not like he never had any, it had just been hard for him to find someone recently with his work and everything.

“What made you choose the navy?” Y/N asked softly as she sat down in the sand, their hands now disconnected. She waited for his answer as she slipped her shoes off and let her toes sink into the sand.

Bob shrugged causing their shoulders to touch, “Many factors.” He replied. “I was always a bit fascinated with the career.” He added before switching the question to the girl beside him. “What about you, what made you choose nursing?”

Y/N gave a soft smile, “Helping people.” She mumbled as she glanced over and noticed his full attention on her. “I always wanted to help people, I almost decided on Medical school, instead of nursing school.” She admitted as she watched the waves crash on the shore. It was beautiful. The beach had always been one of her favorite places. “I had it drilled in my head as a teen that I should not join any part of the military, that it was too dangerous, and I deserved to have a family without worry.” Y/N mumbled as she noticed Bob’s gaze drop down for a moment before glancing back up at her. “That’s Maverick as a dad for ya, so reckless but his kid isn’t allowed to be.” She added with a laugh to lighten the mood.

Bob shrugged, “I think that’s just what parents do.” He muttered back the reply.

Y/N gave him a small smile in understanding. She did know that it was part of Pete’s problem, but she also knew that Goose had a lot to do with how he felt about his kids joining the navy or the military for that matter. “You’re right, he was just as hard on Bradley as he was on me about it.”

Bob tensed a bit at the mention of your best friend. The clearing of the throat caught your attention, “I’m sorry if this is too personal but have you two ever been a thing?”

Y/N could tell that he was unsure and nervous to ask that question. She knew that they were close, but they never were romantically attracted to each other. They always had a strong sibling like bond. “No, we haven’t.” she spoke honestly. “We’ve never viewed each other like that. Given, he did live with us for a little bit… we grew our sibling bond.” She explained.

Bob nodded not saying much after that. The quiet WSO knew that he didn’t want to have to compare to Rooster if they ever dated. It wasn’t something that would end very well, considering he believed that Rooster outdid him many times. It was clear that the older pilot had an extrovert personality which Bob knew was usually a hit for the woman.

“what’s going on in that head of yours?” Y/N interrupted the guy’s thoughts. She watched as he pushed his glasses back up his nose before shrugging his shoulders. Bob would be embarrassed to tell her what he was thinking about. The two hadn’t known each other for very long but he was definitely attracted to the captain’s daughter. “Bobby,” she playfully nudged the boy. “You can trust me.” She assured.

“It’s nothing.” He dismissed. He didn’t miss the way that Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, she just wanted to know what he was thinking. She knew that he was previously deep in thought and his facial features showed that he was concerned about something.

Y/N grabbed her shoes before dusting off her feet, “I’m always here if you need me, Bobby.” She assured as she carefully slipped her shoes back on. “I should be getting home; it’s getting late and I’m sure my dad won’t go easy on you guys tomorrow.” She easily stood up with Bob following her. “See you later, Bob.” She waved before turning around and started walking towards the parking lot.

Bob stood planted on his place at the beach, until his feet took off without him thinking about it. “Y/N!” he called causing the girl to stop her walk and turn around waiting to hear what he had to say. “What you told Hangman… is that true?” He asked as he walked closer to the girl that he was starting to develop a crush on.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed slightly before realization dawned on her face. He was concerned that what she told him was true. Honestly, it was. The girl didn’t want any significant other being in any branch of the military. Especially not after her father and her dating history. Yet she felt like she would be lying to him if she told him that it was a hundred percent true. “Why don’t you just wait and see, Bobby?”

Next Part.

[buckys-dollface]

Not your best friend [B.B.]

Pairing | avengers!bucky x avengers!fem!reader

Warnings | 18+ MDI, mutual pining, two idiots in love, friends to lovers, so many pet names, jealous!bucky, implied oral (f!receiving), bratty!reader kinda if you squint lol, sexual tension

Summary | You’re about to leave for a trip out of the state when things become clear of where Bucky stands in your life.

A/N | hiya! I hope you guys enjoy my return to writing. I have missed it! Let me know if you want a follow up to this, and requests are open, so if you have a request, send it to my ask box. Please don't copy, rewrite, repost, or translate my work. No permission is given to use works in any capacity, even with credit. I do appreciate likes, feedbacks and reblogs, though! Thanks!

~*~

It was evident to everyone else. It always is. In meet-cute situations like these, boy meets girl, boy and girl are both stupidly and ridiculously in love with each other, but won’t believe the simple fact that they were made for each other. Nat, Sam, and Tony had bets when you and Bucky were finally going to give in and confess your suppressed feelings to each other. Sam constantly spurs Steve to join in, but he claims, “that’s not right, Sam leave them alone,” or something of that nature. Steve does want Bucky to be happy, desperately so. It seems as time goes on, though, he worries Bucky won’t get what he so ultimately longs for, which is you, of course. The simple fact blinds both you and Bucky that you were best friends, and that’s where it ends. Right?

You were packing to go away for a long weekend; a vacation was much deserved after kicking ass an Avenger consistently for months. Being an Avenger was very rewarding but also very tiring. You asked Tony if it was okay if you could go home for the weekend and spend it with your best friend. His birthday was next weekend, and if it was in your power, you weren’t going to miss it with him.

“Best friend? I thought Barnes was your best friend?” Tony remarked as a sly smirk crossed his features. You rolled your eyes.

“Barnes is something.” You stated plainly, arms crossed as you analyzed Tony’s mischief. It was never simple with him. Always a pain in the ass.

“Something? What? Like a lover?”

“God, you are impossible.” You scoffed.

“Something you and Miss. Potts can agree on.” Tony chuckled, thinking of his blonde girlfriend. Unlike him, though, you had enough of his charade. You weren’t stupid. The whole team went googly-eyed over the thought of you and Bucky together, but it was never going to happen.

“He’s more like a friend. So can I leave next weekend or what?

“Deflection doesn’t like good on you but yes you can.” With a huff and a slam of a door, you left Tony and his obnoxious giggling.

A knock of the door brings you back to your current state of preparing to leave to go to Asheville. “Come in!”

You knew you had to pack tonight if you wanted to make your early flight in the morning. 5 am comes early, and there wasn’t enough espresso in the world to wake you up at that ungodly hour. You continued to fold clothes in your duffel bag and gather an outfit for in the morning to slip into comfortably.

“Hiya, doll.” Bucky greeted with a soft smile on his face as he glanced down at your suitcase.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” He asked as he pointed at your nearly full duffel bag. Oh shit, you forgot to tell Bucky. Fear flashed over your eyes as it settled into your features. That’s not possible; you must have told him, right? With the confusion twinging in Bucky’s face, the answer was apparent.

“Stevie mentioned you were leaving for the weekend in the hallway, but I found it strange you didn’t tell me.” His voice was gruff. Bucky took a few steps towards you, sitting his glass of whiskey on your desk. You felt breathless. Your heart was thumping against your chest like a drum. Words. Words you were supposed to use to communicate wouldn’t leave your mouth as much as you needed them to. You felt like soft clay, and with Bucky eyeing you down at getting closer. Almost too close. This feeling disrupted your senses in a way that almost felt right.

“Cat got your tongue? Not going to keep all the secrets for yourself, are ya?” His calloused thumb caressed your jaw, and you leaned into his touch, feeling your eyes close as you breathed him in—bergamot, sage, and leather. So deliciously him.

“Where ya goin’ babydoll?” Bucky whispered, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you and there was no use it fighting it. Hook, line, and sinker.

You took a deep breath and began to speak, realizing if you talked too loud, your voice would squeak. “Home. It’s my best friend’s birthday. I want to go see hi-him.” Your stutter was getting the rest of your sentence out. You squeezed your eyes in embarrassment and frustration.

“Ah that’s funny. My birthday isn’t for a couple of months.”

You realized you needed to take back this conversation, the lack of control made you feral. The sight of Bucky towering you, having his lips mere inches from yours. It made you weak in the knees and your lace panties soaked from arousal. It’s like he was toying with you. Well, two can play that game, sweetheart.

You breathed in the last bit of willpower you had and patted him on the shoulder. You look up at him dead in the eyes, and it’s as if a switch flipped. Bucky realized he might have won the battle but lost the war.

“You’re right. It’s not. I’m going to see my best friend in North Carolina. It’s his birthday, and I haven’t seen him in months.” You made sure to put the emphasis where it should be to get it through the super solider's head. Oh, Bucky didn’t like that answer.

His eyes widened like saucers as a smirk began to grace his face. He noticed his eyebrows raise and he chuckled at the mere thought. How cute, you’re trying to rile him up. He noticed you resumed folding your clothes and backed your luggage by the door for your weekend away. Like the last ten minutes, you never happened. Sure, whatever.

“I don’t like this idea, doll. You meeting this guy in a different state? Have I ever met him? Has any of the rest of the team?” Bucky continued his interrogation. He wasn't going to let you slip away so easily.

“No, but to be frank I don’t need your permission, Dad or does the rest of the team need to meet this guy. I’ve known him longer than all of you.” He rolled his eyes at your blatant disregard for your safety, as well as the blatant disregard you were having for the obvious sexual tension in the room just a moment ago.

“You’re being overzealous, Buck. You act like this guy is some stranger I met off the internet.” Now, you just wanted to toy with him. You liked this side of Bucky, he was definitely jealous. He wouldn’t be hounding you with these mindless concerns if he wasn’t.

“Well he may as well be if I’ve never met him, “ Bucky insisted. He walked back towards your desk and grabbed his glass of whiskey, and noticed a photo with you and a man he didn’t recognize. “This him?”

You glanced up from your bed and looked at the framed photo of you and your guy best friend at your college graduation. You nodded your head with a small smile of your face, reminiscing on the joyous memories the two of you had shared together. You two had been friends for ten years and had been through hell and back together, it seemed.

Bucky analyzed the photo. You looked so content and calm in his presence. He noticed it was your graduation day, seeing you decked out in a cap and gown. He looked so proud of you, probably as proud as Bucky felt to know you. “So this punk is your best friend and not me?” He asked again waving the frame. You laughed and nodded your head again, “Sorry, Buck.”

Bucky nodded his head in response and took a sip of whiskey contemplating where to go from here. A muttered huh slipped from his lips as he gazed about your figure; he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, especially if you were about to go away for a weekend to your best friend for his birthday. He might get his status upgrade to boyfriend, while it seems Bucky had his relationship status wrong with you from the beginning. You needed to know that he wasn’t worth it, dollface. You needed to see the bigger picture.

“If I’m not you’re best friend, what am I, sweetheart?” His voice rang like triumphs. You took a pause and felt your heart stutter to a stop. His words echoed in your ears as if those were the only words you’ve ever heard or ever needed. You knew what Bucky was to you. He was your friend, confidant, but to you, that was all it felt like he would be. He was Bucky Barnes. Beefy brooding super solider. He would never be into you; he would only see you as the same.

You snickered with the thought of this actually going anywhere more, like it almost did 10 minutes ago. A ruined fantasy suppressed by your fear. Fear of the unknown. "See- if I told ya I would have to kill ya." You muttered as you glanced up from your computer screen. Your keys stalled their clicking sounds. Your doe eyes glistened as his stare cut through your soul like a knife.

"Chance I'm willin’ to take, " Bucky retorted with as his took another sip of whiskey. There was that gruff voice again. The amber liquor burned his throat, much like this conversation began to burn your core. The temptations and suspension loomed over your head like a storm cloud ready to pour down on you both.

You removed yourself from your bed, the comfort of your sheets leaving your sides. You began to stride over to Bucky, still sitting at your desk. The lowlight highlighting his best features. His stubbly chin, his steely blue eyes, his massive biceps. His gaze followed yours at every steps, never faltering while he drank you in. "You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

He shook his head, “Not over my dead body.”

You see him rise to his feet as the shadows of your silhouettes danced across the wall. Your bodies were mere inches from each other once again. It almost seemed as if the two of you were at a stalemate. Neither one ever determined to break, staying stuck in the viciously swirling cycle of sexual tension and what if’s forever.

God, it was agonizing! Especially when he looked at you like that. Like as if you were his whole world. He needed to know. Once. He needed to understand that you didn’t want to be friends and that you wouldn’t mind if he thought of you as his everything because you have had those thoughts in passing the time or two. Your never-ending eye contact was broken at last as you shifted. Now or never. You brought your lips to his ear, your hands gracing his chiseled chest as you began to press into his masculine figure.

"You're the person I want to fuck me into the mattress until I see stars. Up for the challenge, Barnes? Your tone is seductive and dripping with lust. Your hot breath made him shiver as his cock twitched at the filth leaving your mouth. Definitely a sentence not mentioned for your friend. Your teeth tugged on his ear, and you could have sworn you heard a moan escape from his perfectly parted lips. Your head slowly moves to face him again. When your eyes open, you see him caressing your face, his callous thumb smoothing over your jaw once again.

“Let me give you a going away present, doll? I have been dreaming of a taste of you.” You heard him rasp and all you could do was whimper. You may put on a big show and act all bad, but after all this buildup, you were ready to melt in a puddle—all for Bucky Barnes.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged as your hips started to rut into his hardened cock. Oh, you were gone. Bucky chuckled at your actions, you were so adorable, “My needy baby.” He sucked bruises that began to blossom against your skin. He wanted to mark up and unwrap you like his favorite little present. He’s been waiting long enough, doll.

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”

And if Bucky Barnes was anything, he was true to his word.

[pooklet]

Hey so, I’m terrible at taking compliments! Often times they end up languishing my inbox cuz I worry that any response I could give would sound insincere, especially if I end up repeating myself (which I do, a lot). But I don’t want anyone thinking I don’t appreciate their kindness! So I’m going to try to be better about replying when people send me nice asks, not just when they have questions or requests!

(Hopefully a batch response post is okay? I seem to be better about those than responding individually.)

1. Oh man my sim style has changed so dramatically, I really gotta update those! But the new ones are going to be extremely heavy on the alien genetics which is pretty niche as far as gameplay goes, so I’m glad I made a human set when I did and that people are still getting use out of it! Thank you, anon!

2. I’m glad I could help, lol! It sounds like our game genetics are in a similar chaotic state. I’m always breaking my poor human sims by purging old content, thinking I’m not using it anymore, and then I have the nerve to be all “by talos this can’t be happening” when townies roll up to my playable house in a default skin, with no eyes and maxis hair. If anything, learning how to fix genetics in SimPE has only served to turn me into more of a monster. There’s no consequences now, no one is safe.

3. Anon, you peach! That is so sweet of you to say. It means so, so much to us to hear that. It isn’t silly at all and honestly it’s an honor to know we’ve had any place in anyone feeling more comfortable with themselves. It really is lovely to hear. :’)

4. That’s so sweet of you, anon and also, like, blows my mind? Cuz I just remember being the most obnoxious 20something in my early days of the sims community so the idea I had any impact other than annoying everyone around me is genuinely so cool and makes me feel, idk, kind of better about the person that I used to be? If that makes sense? Anyway, yeah! Thank you. :D

5. So sporadically active, but hopefully enough to facilitate a spree! I think it’s been a while since you sent this, anon, but I hope you’re still having fun with TS2!

6, 7. Okay, you two are absolutely giving me too much credit, lol! But I am super glad that my actions have been useful to so many people, even if it was just to help them figure out what they liked better or inspired them to make their own actions! It really is neat and it does feel good, yeah. :) God powers would be absolutely kickin, but I think the closest to that I’m ever going to get is, like, the godly ability to hoard dolls. And yarn.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Brilliant (F.W.)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: Fred needs some help with school work

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: None

AN:  Hi everyone! Please just pretend that Fred didn’t get banned from quidditch in his seventh year please and thank you.

It was no secret that school was not one of Fred Weasley’s strong suits. He’d much rather spend his time goofing off with his brother, playing quidditch, or planning for the shop than spending countless hours completing assignments and studying for exams. He simply had better things to do. And while he knew that his future laid outside the realm of academic achievements, not everyone quite believed him. Or more accurately, believed in him.

So that was how he ended up in Snape’s office after class, the potions professor staring at him with his arms crossed and McGonagall looking down at him.

“Mr. Weasley do you know why we have called you here?” McGonagall asked sternly. Fred squirmed slightly in his seat.

“I’m not sure Minnie,” he said with a cocky smirk, “I may need you to enlighten me.” Snape scoffed from the other side of the desk.

“Well, first of all, I must remind you that my name is Professor McGonagall and you shall not call me by anything else,” she said seriously. Fred’s grin never faltered. “But it has come to attention that you are failing potions,” McGonagall said. Fred was surprised for a moment. He knew that he wasn’t doing particularly well, but he never imagined that he was failing. He turned and saw Snape smirking at him.

“If you have any interest in passing my class and graduating, I expect you to get a tutor,” Snape said eventually, a hint of smugness entering his tone. Fred frowned. The thing was, he didn’t intend to graduate. He and George were planning to leave in a few months anyway, was it really worth the hassle?

“I think I’ll pass on the tutor,” Fred said, making a move to leave the office. A hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Not so fast Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall warned. Fred turned to face her.

“Yes Minnie?” he asked with an annoyed smile.

“If you want to continue to play quidditch this year, I suggest that you take Professor Snape up on that offer and get a tutor,” McGonagall said with a frown. Fred froze.

“What?” he asked, slightly panicked.

“If your grade in potions does not improve to at least an acceptable, I can not let you participate in the quidditch season,” McGonagall explained. Fred let out a long sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “Just give me the place and time.”

Fred was dreading having to go to the library to meet his tutor. It was early on a Saturday morning and he’d much rather be out with George and Lee than meeting some stuffy tutor in the library. Snape had told him who would be assigned to help him and Fred couldn’t help but grumble at the name. (Y/n) (L/n). (Y/n) was top of their year and the current Ravenclaw headgirl. She had taken an unspeakable amount of points away from Fred and his brother and she was always the first to raise her hand in class. She was the kind of person who was so smart that it was almost obnoxious.

Truly, he was in no position to judge the girl. He really did not know her and most likely had never even spoken to her outside of class before. But he was mad that he had to trudge across the castle at eight in the morning and that he actually had to open his books for once and the easiest way to cope was to blame it on her.

When Fred arrived at the library he saw her sitting in a corner. He was surprised to see that she looked just as tired as he was- her hair was messy and she was rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. She yawned as she spotted him and waved him over quickly. As he made his way over to her, Fred couldn’t help but chuckle. She was wearing a completely oversized jumper that covered her hands with the sleeves. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair looked as if she had run her hands through it countless times already. If anything, she looked more miserable than him.

“There you are,” she said as Fred slipped in a chair across from her.

“Sorry if I’m late,” he grumbled, plopping his books on the table.

“It’s fine,” she responded, “Snape had no business scheduling this session this early in the morning.” Fred laughed.

“Not a morning person then?” he asked. She groaned and shook her head.

“Not at all,” she said, scrunching up her nose. Fred’s bad mood slowly started to disappear. (Y/n) pulled out a roll of parchment and her quills, motioning for Fred to do the same.

“I figured that we could start the essay that’s due in two weeks, that way I can get a feeling of where you are,” you stated. Fred pulled out his materials. If he was being honest, he didn’t even know that there was an essay due in two weeks.

“Okay,” she started, opening up the textbook. “We have to write an essay detailing the process of how to make a befuddlement drought,” (Y/n) stated. Fred furrowed his eyebrows. He thought back to the previous class when he and George had royally screwed up that exact potion.

“Can you tell me what goes into a befuddlement drought?” she asked, peering up at him expectantly. Fred just stared at his parchment, completely and utterly clueless.

“I have no idea,” he said, turning to take a peek at her textbook. (Y/n) jumped to cover the recipe with her hands. He looked up at her, confusion etched into his face.

“Come on Fred,” she said, “I know you know this.” Fred scoffed.

“You’re giving me too much credit (L/n),” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. (Y/n) just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Oh come on. You’re incredibly smart I’m sure you know this,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. Fred audibly laughed at this, causing Madame Pince to shush him.

“I may be many things,” Fred said, “but smart is not necessarily one of them.” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh come off it Fred,” she said, “I’ve seen your products, you’d have to be incredibly smart to make them.” Fred furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s different though. I’m not good at the things we have to do in class,” Fred stated.

“Just because you have trouble with classwork doesn’t mean you’re not smart. I couldn’t do half the things that you and your brother do,” (Y/n) replied. Fred scoffed.

“Oh come on! You’re basically the smartest witch in our year. You always get top marks in potions,” Fred said, making another reach for the textbook. She swatted his hand away playfully, an endearing gesture that made him smile.

“That’s because I’m good at following directions. I always do what people tell me to do,” she said, staring at him intently.

“Isn’t that the whole point?” Fred asked, leaning against his hands. (Y/n) shook her head and laughed.

“Of course not, Fred! If I was told to make a potion but I wasn’t given a recipe, I’d fail. I’m good at memorization but I don’t genuinely have a good understanding of the subject,” she said. Fred frowned, not quite understanding. “I know that you’re better at potions than me because you know what ingredients to put together to make a specific kind of reaction, I could never do that,” she explained further.

“Fine. I guess I have a general understanding of the subject. But I still don’t know the recipe for the befuddlement drought and I need to pass this essay if I want to play in the match next weekend. So if you could kindly hand this over,” he said, reaching once again for her book. She snapped it shut and laid her arms across it.

“Okay let’s think of this differently,” she said, “If you and your brother wanted to make a potion for your business that was supposed to make whoever ingested it extremely confused and disoriented, what would you put in it?” Fred leaned back in his chair, mulling over the answer.

“I guess some scurvy grass? Maybe some sneezwort?” he said after a moment. When he looked back up at (Y/n), she was smiling widely at him.

“Exactly!” she proclaimed. Fred’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Wait really?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/n) opened up the textbook and flipped it towards him. She dragged her finger to the top and traced the words on the page.

“You just named the two key ingredients,” she said proudly. Fred smiled at her, feeling his pride swell slightly.

“See,” she said, “I told you that you were smart.” Fred let out a chuckled.

“Eh, still not sure about that. I am devilishly handsome though,” he replied. She scoffed at his response before turning back to the book. And then, quietly, she murmured, “Well I think you’re brilliant.” Fred froze at her words and flushed deeply. They were spoken so softly that he wasn’t sure that he was even intended to hear them. The ardent way in which she mumbled those words and the soft determination behind them made it sound as if she was stating a fact, a rule of the universe. It sounded as if she was sure that sun rose in the east, that the sun set in the west, and that Fred Weasley was brilliant. The compliment was unlike one he had ever gotten before. So earnest and so simple. Fred wasn’t sure if he had ever even been called smart, let alone brilliant, before this morning, and he was certain he had never heard it so impassioned. The way that (Y/n) muttered the simple phrase almost made him believe it.

Fred began to look forward to his early morning tutoring sessions with (Y/n). Sure, he felt like he was learning and improving at the subject, but mostly he just enjoyed her company. She was funny in a softspoken way, her small quips sneaking up on him and making his face hurt from smiling. She was sweet, always reassuring him that he was capable of learning the material. She was also very cute, with her large sweaters and sleepy eyes, blushing whenever he flirted with her. He was almost sad to think that if his grades improved he would have to stop seeing her. Never in his life did Fred think he would enjoy studying this much.

The day that Fred turned in his potions essay, (Y/n) gave him an encouraging smile from across the room. He had written the whole thing by himself, recalling the information that he and (Y/n) went over in their sessions. He had never been so confident in an assignment and had never been so excited to turn one in. He wanted nothing more than for (Y/n) to be proud of him.

A few days later he got the essay back, Snape dropping it upsidedown on his desk. Fred snapped his eyes up to meet his professor’s, who only grimaced in response. He suddenly felt exceedingly nervous. What if his work hadn’t paid off? He didn’t want to face you if he had done poorly.

As he flipped over the parchment he could barely contain his smile. A large E sat across the top of the page. Exceeds expectations.

As the entire class filed out of the classroom, Fred waited for (Y/n) by the door. He leaned against the wall of the dungeons, waiting for her to pass the threshold and escape the classroom. When (Y/n) finally walked out, Fred scooped her up in a hug before she could even register that he was there.

“Fred!” she squealed as he picked her up and spun her around. When he placed her back onto the floor, his hands still on her waist, he couldn’t hold back the happiness that he felt.

“I’ll take it that you did well?” (Y/n) laughed, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“It seems that I have exceeded expectations,” Fred stated, puffing out his chest. She chuckled, her hands still clutching the fabric of his cloak.

“I’m so proud of you!” she said, staring into his eyes with the ghost of a giggle still gracing her lips. Fred threw his head back.

“I’m so excited I could kiss you!” Fred shouted with a laugh. If it was possible, she flushed darker.

“Fred!” she exclaimed, swatting him lightly in the chest. Fred captured her hand before leaning closer.

“I’m sorry darling but I’m not sure if I can help myself,” he said softly, a smirk playing at his lips. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at him.

“You get a guy one good mark and suddenly he’s falling at your feet,” she grumbled, sending him a playful look. Fred laughed heartily at her joke.

“Very funny smarty-pants,” he replied. She looked up at him, smiling widely. She took one look around the deserted hallway before she took Fred by surprise and kissed him herself. She pulled him closer by his robes and stood on her toes to reach his tall frame. Fred gripped her waist tighter and melted into her, smiling slightly. After a moment they broke apart, blushing and smiling widely.

“Eh not bad Weasley,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Not bad?” Fred sputtered, caught off guard by her response.

“But don’t worry. I’ve already proven that I’m a magnificent tutor, I think I can help you out with this too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @durmstrange​ @theweasleysredhair​ @bellaacunaa​

add yourself here

[blownbybakugou]

Office Hours

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

warnings: CEO!Shouto AU, FEM! Anatomy, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, slight voyeurism. 

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: Took me all day to write, I even pulled an all nighter because the ideas were swarming inside of my head. So I was just chilling at two am with Rick and Morty on, typing away. Probably disturbing my neighbors and my roommate, but whatever.

This day had been mildly annoying. Your new coworker had claimed to have been sleeping with your boss, saying she would have you fired by giving him a blowjob, and then continued to shred the paperwork you had worked on all week. You were in near tears from the stressful events of this week, and everyone, including the bitch could see that if anything else went wrong, you would snap. You could clearly hear the annoying pitter-patter of the horrid woman's shoes against the black marble heading towards your cubicle, making you groan in exasperation. "What do you want, Neca?" You sigh, your bloodshot eyes glaring at her smug face. "I have to leave early, so you'll have my work" Your eye twitched. The audacity this lady had was getting on your last nerve. "I'm not doing your work after you shredded mine, especially if you'll get the credit. Now leave. I'm trying to finish my work so I can go home." You look back down to your work, but your head is suddenly yanked back up by your hair. "Go home to what, exactly? You're single, you have no kids and no pets. You can put in the extra hours, and you don't need the extra money. So stop being a bitch, and get over it. I have a date with the boss, so I'll be leaving now" Neca slams down a fresh stack of papers for you to revise and categorize and walks over to the elevator, leaving you here to deal with her work. You looked at the clock on your desk, seeing that in only two hours it would be midnight. Era, too late for you to be at work. You yawn and take your pencil back in your hand to begin your reviewing, already dreading the outcome of this night.

At around 11:30, you got up to go to the breakroom for a new cup of coffee, and you swore you could feel your eyebags darkening by the second. Everyone had left at about 11:00, which left you here completely by yourself. Even the janitor had checked out for the night, handing you the building keys and telling you to lock up when you go home. You take a big swig of the luke-warm beverage, praying to the gods that you would finish your work faster so you could get some sleep. You look out the break-room window at the 12-inch stack of documents you had to look over, realizing you'd be lucky if you got to leave at 3:00. You gulp down half of the coffee, toss the empty disposable cup into the trash bin, and tread back to your personal hellhole. You were concentrating as hard as you could, but even when you were zoned out, you could clearly hear the sound of the elevator going up, and stopping at your floor. Your eyes widen, looking over to the clock that read 1:00 am and then trying to think of who would be here this late but only came up with fear and panic. You shake wildly as you watch the polished silver doors slide open slowly, and then you see the expensive leather shoes step out. Your breath hitched. You were somehow more afraid than before, seeing your boss look over to you, and begin to walk over. He stopped in front of your chair, looking down on you with suspicion and confusion in his eyes. "What are you doing here so late, L/n?" Your throat quickly becomes dry, making it harder to speak. "I, um, p-paperwork." You attempt to explain, pointing to the now 10-inch tall pile with a quivering finger. "I didn't give you that much, who's work is that?" His deep voice asked. "Neca's, Mr. Todoroki. She said you guys had a date and asked me to finish up her paperwork. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you." You explain, regaining your once lost composure. "We did not have a date. What happened here, is that she played you." Your brows furrow in frustration. So the hours you put in were for absolutely nothing? The fear of getting fired, the times she left because of the 'bosses demands', were all fake? "I...I'll finish it anyway, Mr. Todoroki. I promise I won't take too long." You mumble, turning back to the documents with clenched teeth. "No, I will call her right now. If she is going to rearrange your sleep schedule, I will rearrange hers." our heart warms at his kindness, as you thank him for his generosity. Todoroki pulls out an expensive-looking phone, scrolling for a while before holding it out, and putting it on speaker. On the second ring, Neca picks up. "Yes, Mr.Todoroki? Do you need me to come over or...?" She seemed insistent on wanting to come over to his home, but your boss shuts her down rapidly. "No. After many, many complaints and reports from the other employees, it has come to my attention that you have been passing your work onto Y/n L/n, as well as destroying the companies sacred files. I have called to confirm these suspicions." You both could hear shuffling on the other end on the line, and then you heard the buttered up voice speak. "Did Y/n tell you this? I didn't want you to find out this way, but Y/n has been skipping out on work and burning the company files. I didn't tell you because Y/n is such a dear friend to me and I didn't want her to get fired." Her obnoxiously fake sympathetic voice made you want to gag in disgust. The faux voice was way too sweet for her contrasting personality and the word 'friends' left a bitter taste in your mouth. "Oh? Well, if that's true then I have some interesting news. I'm at the office right now, looking at Y/n who has an 11-inch stack of papers that I certainly did not give to her. And by looking at one of the documents," Todoroki picks up one of the stapled worksheets and flips through it briefly before continuing. "These look like the oriented reference materials I asked you to finish before you left. Now, if you do not come to the office right now to complete your and Y/n's workload, I will fire you, and ruin all future opportunities for you to get a job. Am I clear?" The line goes silent, but then you hear a light sobbing sound accompanying a meek 'yes, boss'. He hung up and then gestured you into his workroom, silently closing the door behind him. "L/n, how long has this been going on for?" Todoroki asked calmly, sitting down in his exquisite black leather chair. "A week after she came here, sir." When you added the sir on the end, he seemed to flinch, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "I see. Why didn't you inform me of this?" You take notice of how he had crossed his legs. It was almost as if he were trying to hide something from you, and that fact made you internally grin. "She said she was your lover, sir, and I didn't want to be fired for claiming against her." The CEO glares at you, warning you to not step further into this. "I can happily say that we are not in a relationship, nor are we participating in any...fun, activities." A playful glint flashes in your captivating orbs, seizing the boss's attention. "I am glad to hear that sir. Shall I take my leave then?" Todoroki's jaw stiffens, and his eyes darken. "Only if you want to. But I believe it to be bad to drive when tired, you could always sleep here, for convenience reasons." You wanted to agree. But you knew that Neca would arrive here shortly, and if you slept here, she would surely do something to get back at your tattling. "I'm not very tired, sir." You remark, standing to make an emphasis. Todoroki stands as well, showing off his delicious-looking bulge forming in his black slacks. "Oh really?" He walks around his desk, eyeing you like a predator would its prey. "Is there a problem, sir?" You ask, a smirk present in your expression. "No, but I think that I'll have to make you tired. You know, for convenience reasons." His face was a mere inch from yours, his breath gently fanning your face. He finally took initiative and grabbed the back of your neck to bring you into an electrifying kiss that made every nerve in your body tingle. You were swiftly flipped around and sat on his desk, your legs wrapped around his torso as he hungrily forced his tongue onto yours. They slid across each other in unison, sending hot flashes throughout both of your bodies at the amazing contact. "Mr.Todoroki, Neca will-" "What happened to sir?" Todoroki purred, sliding his warm hands up your blouse and playing with the hem of your bra. You start softly panting as they glide to your back, fiddling with the clasp. "S-Sir, Neca will be here any min-" "Stop being a brat, I'll deal with her when she gets here. But I think you should deal with the problem you made." Todoroki unbuttons his trousers, stripping himself of them before placing your hand on his clothed cock. "Why don't you get to work, and I might reward you with a bonus." You pushed down his black boxers, almost drooling when you see the length and girth of his dick. It was almost unreal, it couldn't be. He was huge and heavy. Even with him being fully erect his cock drooped and hung right above your mouth. You were starting to even wonder if he could fit inside of you. Todoroki was staring at you expectantly, so you carefully lifted your chin to take the head into your mouth and looked up at him with big, doe eyes. A subtle grunt is produced from your actions and you decide to take it a step further. You guide his dick down your throat, feeling his width stretch out the walls of your windpipe and block your source of oxygen. You pull back, watching as strings of your salvia extend from his cock to your mouth, a low groan emitting from your boss at the sight. You take him back in, this time moaning around him for added effect and enjoying how his hands thread their way into your hair a glide you along his impressive dick. It was then that you began to hear the familiar sound of the elevator opening, and the annoying pitter-patter of shoes you have learned to hate. It seemed that Todoroki heard it too, but he only pushed you down deeper and leered at the way you gagged and squirmed. The clicking of Neca's shoes came to a halt as she shoved the door open with such haste you were surprised it didn't break. "Mr. Todoroki, please forgive me, I promise it won't happen again-" Your watery eyes open to give her a petty glare, releasing another moan around your boss so she could watch the way his eyes roll back in pure and utter pleasure at the vibrations you gave off. Neca's face turned a bright red at your bold decision and let out a high-pitched huff of anger. The irony of this situation was so satisfying. You flipped her off, making her storm out of the room, still enraged. That was until your boss yelled something to her "Neca, you still have to finish the documents you passed onto Y/n." You got no response, but you honestly didn't care at this point. She could hear you guys going at it like animals if she wanted to, but as far as you're concerned, she doesn't exist. You were yanked up and you look down to see that his cock was completely covered in your spit. "I think you deserve a reward, baby."  You were forced onto the desk chest first, your skirt flipping up making your panties on display for him to see. "I bet you have the cutest little cunt under these thin panties." He pressed two fingers against the damp fabric, swiping against your clothed slit before getting fed up and tearing them off. Todoroki kneeled, blowing cool air onto your soaked pussy and watching as you try to push your hips back onto his face. Your hole was clenching around nothing and it was practically driving Shouto against the wall. He got back up, stroking himself a few times before poking at your hole with his tip. He leaned his head into your ear with his chest pressed against your back, his breath making your heart race faster. "I'm going to fucking ruin you." He pushed himself in halfway, rocking his hips in a steady motion and chuckling at your small pathetic moans. "I'm not even all the way in and you're whining. Do you even want my dick?" You nod vigorously, trying to move backward to sheath the rest into your weeping cunt. "You want it all in? Use your words, pretty girl." He prolongs his movements and observes that way you try to fuck yourself on his cock, your orbs starting to form more tears from the lack of stimulation. "Please sir, I want to be stuffed full by your big cock." You whimper, letting his hand grasp at your strands of hair once more. Growling, he shoves the rest of his awaiting member inside of you, basking in the way your walls fluttered and twitched from the intrusion. "Good girl. Now let me use you the way I want to, little thing." He starts rapidly pounding into you, with your poor cervix being mercilessly rammed against in the process. "How's it feel getting railed like this, huh? You know, I could really use an heir to the company." Your pants began to mix with your moans, and you could tell your orgasm was coming on strong. You couldn't even warn Todoroki because right as you were about to tell him, you felt him nudge that special spot that made you see stars. And after that, you had no choice but to release. You expected Shouto to pause and let you rest after that intense orgasm, but he fucked you through your release and yanked on your hair harder, overstimulating you easily. "S-S-Shouto." You stammered, feeling his dick pulsate inside of you. Todoroki started pistoning his hips into yours at a more brutal pace, seeing you come undone for the second time. "I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum, and you're gonna be my pretty little girlfriend. How's that sound?" A gurgled yes left your mouth, too far gone to even properly validate his question. A loud groan echoed through the room as spurts of your boss's hot semen shot into your unprotected womb with full intention of getting you pregnant. You lie there, panting for a while before he picks you up, and sets you on the small leather couch in the corner. "I promise that Neca will no longer bother you. And that you and our child will have the best luxuries in the world." He murmurs, lying down in front of you and petting your moist hair. "I'm glad this happened, Shouto." He chuckled. "Yeah. Me too." The dreaded sound of the elevator returned, and this time, you could hear many voices chatting. You look over at your newfound lover's desk to read the time. 5:00 am. Also known as, office hours.

[drmmyrs]

The Way I Loved You (Poppy x MC)

Soo bear with me since I think this might be a long series. This part is mostly just establishing the story so there is little to no fluff yet.

But stiiill, let me know what you guys think and I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :)) 

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr (ithis is my taglist I thiiink, but if you wanna be added or removed just let me know)  

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea)

Word Count: 1650

Warning: Little swearing (at least for this part)

A/N: This is from the part before Poppy and MC were paired for a project

Bea had been at Belvoire for two months now, but she still wasn't used to waking up on a queen-sized canopy bed fitted with luxe sateen sheets in a bedroom which probably cost more than her family's house back at Farmsville. She glanced at the clock–11:30 am. She still had some time to spare before her first class. How people managed to wake up early on this luxurious bed made of clouds, she didn't know.

After a few more minutes of daydreaming, Bea begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed. She was preparing her outfit when the smell of heaven wafted through the bedroom door–bacon and pancakes. Like some kind of puppet on strings, Bea let herself be led by the delicious aroma to the kitchen where Zoey was expertly pouring pancake batter on a pan.

"I didn't know I was roommates with a master chef," Bea jested.

Zoey turned around at Bea's voice, and as she saw her, a smirk crawled up her lips.

"Well, don't you look sexy." Zoey eyed Bea up and down with an amused look on her face.

Bea glanced down at her outfit and saw that she was still in her pajamas. "Whatever Zo, not everyone can rock designer outfits even in bed."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Besides, Spongebob PJs do have a certain charm."

Bea rolled her eyes while smiling. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"

"I'm pretty sure it's lunch. And aren't you supposed to be in class, like, right about now?"

"Nah, my Tuesday classes aren't until one o'clock."

Zoey stared at Bea. "Babe, it's Wednesday."

Bea's eyes widened at Zoey's words. "No, no, no, Professor Roberta is gonna kill me."

Bea rushed to her room and hastily changed her clothes faster than she thought was possible. She contemplated going to class au naturel, but ultimately decided against it. Bea was not ugly by any means without makeup, but in a sea of extremely contoured cheeks and false eyelashes, having no makeup was basically social suicide, especially since Poppy was in that class. Ugh, great. Of course, I'm late to the only class I have with Poppy.

When Bea thought she was presentable enough, she sprinted out the door but not before grabbing a handful of pancakes and shoving it to her mouth, looking like a chipmunk in the process. The T is gonna have a field day if someone saw me like this. Bea slowed her sprint to a stride as she swallowed the last of the pancakes.

Bea arrived in class forty-five minutes late.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Professor Roberta said in disdain.

"Sorry Professor, won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't. And since you decided to join us so late, you're gonna have to work with Ms. Min-Sinclair over here for your community service project."

Oh hell no.

Sure enough, Poppy was sitting alone, glaring at her, and Bea could almost swear she could see smoke coming out of her nose.

Bea hesitantly sat down beside Poppy.

"Look Poppy, let's be civil about this and finish this project fast so we–"

"We're not going to do anything, Farmsville. I will ace this project and you will stay out of my damn way."

"Like hell I'm gonna let you take all the credit."

"Is there a problem here?" The professor glowered at Poppy and Bea.

"None professor, we were just calmly discussing the details of the project," Poppy responded with a fake smile.

Bea rolled her eyes. Kiss ass.

Once the professor was out of earshot, Poppy sharply turned to Bea. "Be ready on Friday, we're going to a foster home in Middletown."

"Middletown? But that's like an hour away!"

"I don't see you coming up with better ideas," Poppy hissed.

"I–I–"

"I thought so. Do not be late, Farmsville. I don't want you taking more of my time than you already do," Poppy said with a glare before she grabbed her Chanel purse and strode away.

***

Back at her dorm, Bea was resting her head on her hands on the dining table when Zoey arrived.

Upon seeing Bea, Zoey immediately took a seat beside her and placed her hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Aww, babe. Was Professor Roberta that mad?"

Bea turned to face Zoey. "No, but it was much, much worse."

Zoey raised her eyebrow.

"I was paired with Satan for our project."

"Poppy?"

Bea nodded. "She even wanted to do the project in Middletown. Middletown. That's like an hour away! I mean surely there has to be another community that needs servicing that doesn't require an hour drive with Poppy."

Zoey pretended to think thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe she finally found a way to get rid of you permanently?"

"I'm serious, Zo." Bea glared at Zoey.

Zoey laughed. "Okay, okay, sorry. But do bring holy water just in case."

Bea groaned and stood up from the chair before ambling to her bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

Before Bea was able to shut the door, Zoey called out after her. "You'll survive, babe! Give her hell for me."

***

Just a few minutes after Bea got back from her classes, she heard the sound of consecutive horns outside which she immediately knew were from Poppy. No one else is obnoxious enough to disturb an entire dormitory. With a sigh, Bea grabbed her things and trudged outside.

When Bea got outside, Poppy's Range Rover was parked at the curb. Bea walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"Be a dear will you and don't touch anything, I don't want your filthy hands staining my car."

Bea rolled her eyes. Hello to you, too.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent except for the light rain that started drizzling on the windshield, that is, until Bea asked Poppy, "why are we going all the way to Middletown anyway? There's probably some–"

"Remember that time when I asked for your opinion?"

Bea just glared at Poppy.

"Me neither. So, shut up, Hughes."

"How about you take a day off from being a bitch, Poppy. Seeing that you've had your whole life being just that," Bea rebuked.

The entire car ride was spent with both girls hurling insults at each other that it was honestly surprising that Poppy didn't kick Bea out of the car in the middle of the road.

After one looong hour, they finally arrived.

"Don't get in my way, Farmsville," Poppy warned as she approached the house and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Poppy! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in." The woman gestured them inside.

Hang on, how does she know Poppy?

The woman led Bea and Poppy to a couch and asked them if they wanted something to drink, to which both of them politely declined.

"So, Brenda. How is the family?" Poppy was wearing a smile that might actually be... genuine?

Bea stared at Poppy in shock. Not only were they on a first-name basis, but Poppy was actually nice to someone that doesn't involve sucking up.

"They're doing great! Thomas actually just got promoted recently so we're gonna take the kids somewhere nice sometime next week."

"That's amazing, send Thomas my regards."

Okay, what the hell is happening?

After a few more polite conversations, Brenda turned to Bea. "You haven't introduced me to your friend yet." Brenda extended her hand to Bea. "I'm Brenda."

Bea wore her biggest smile as she shook Brenda's hand. "Bea. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Poppy cleared her throat. "Actually, we came here for a community service project, and we were hoping that we could throw the kids a small party and maybe at the same time we can do a photography shoot that can be shared to prospective families. Do you think we can do that?"

"Oh, certainly! I'm sure the kids would love that."

"That's great to hear. Where are they anyway?"

"They're actually out there playing with the toys you sent them. Come on, I'll lead you to them." Brenda stood up and walked towards the back door.

Poppy started to follow her but turned around when she noticed Bea was still sitting down.

"If you're just gonna sit there like a half-wit, do us a favor Farmsville, and do it far away from here."

Still in disbelief, Bea stood up and followed Poppy and Brenda to the yard where Poppy was greeted enthusiastically by five kids. She watched as Poppy played with them with such kindness and compassion that she couldn't help but smile as most of her anger towards the blonde was replaced with warmth and some other indescribable feelings. After a few more games where Bea was basically manhandled by Poppy to join, all of them went back inside exhausted. As it was already getting late, Bea and Poppy said their farewells to Brenda and the kids with a promise of returning on Sunday for the party and went back on the road.

Bea had so many questions she wanted to ask Poppy but the look on Poppy's face implied that she probably won't be answering any of those. A few minutes later, there was suddenly a huge downpour of rain that Poppy had to park the car. Bea then received a text from Zoey, and as she read it, a look of dread flashed across her face.

Poppy frowned upon seeing the look on Bea's face. "What is it now?"

"There's a typhoon. We're stuck here."

***

Bea and Poppy managed to find a decent hotel nearby where they decided to stay until the typhoon passed.

"Two rooms, please. And make them as far away as possible," Poppy said to the receptionist while handing him her credit card, giving Bea a glare at the last sentence.

And here I thought we're finally making progress.

"I'm sorry Ms. Min-Sinclair, we only have one more room available for tonight."

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Patton and Monty at War: Unbelieving the unbearable rivalry.

Monty is trying to steal the show and with the assistance of Divine Destiny [Eisenhower] he may do so.

- General George S. Patton, on the Sicily Campaign, private diaries 16 July 1943

So every week I play my usual game of chess over a glass of wine with one of my neighbours in my Parisian apartment building. He’s a retired army general but remains active as a military historian and speaker. He’s curmudgeonly but one warms to him quickly as he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He’s not a fan of women in the military but reluctantly concedes he would make an exception for me (besides who else could he play chess with?). We get on really well now because of the Covid lockdown this past year. We often have long discussions about military history and current politics until the bottle of wine is completely drained.

On one occasion he invited me to watch the 1969 classic war film, Patton, about the life of one of America’s greatest iconic World War Two generals, George S. Patton. It’s been years since I’ve seen it and I almost had forgotten how great the movie is with George C. Scott as Patton and Karl Malden as General Omar Bradley. We watched it in English and then discussed many things that came out of the film.

Hollywood and history usually do not mix. It is quite common for  filmmakers to take a historical subject and to distort it for their purposes and to dumb it down for entertainment purposes. In the case of the movie, Patton, there was no real attempt to distort the story of Patton. It was a fantastic and stirring Hollywood movie. Moreover it was an excellent study in character given Oscar worthy heft by the great George C. Scott as the crusty General George S. Patton. Francis Ford Coppola’s script was severely under-rated.

However there remain glaring inaccuracies such as Patton’s opening speech in the movie - admittedly a an iconic bit of cinema - but even this was based on his statements and captured the character of  the man, something even acknowledged by the Generals’ family.

Much  of the details of his role in the defeat of Germany are true. The only real omission was the lack of focus on Patton’s Lorraine Campaign, where he distinguished himself. There are some exaggerations in the movie and some minor distortions such as in the weather-prayer scene. In general,  the movie managed to produce a great overview portrayal of the  character and career of an extraordinary American leader.

The film does accurately relate the leading role played by Patton in the  liberation of Sicily. His daring use of armour was crucial in the defeat of the German army on the island.

However long after the film had ended I did think about one thing that irked me. And this was how the movie seemed to linger on the belief Patton was motivated by the desire to do better than General Montgomery, the victor  at El Alamein. Indeed the film probably reinforced the accepted conventional wisdom that these two driven and ambitious men hated each other.

There was a great personal rivalry between the two men.  They were both driven and wildly ambitious. The movie suggests that the rivalry between Montgomery and Patton was the main feature of the Sicilian Allied campaign and was perhaps a factor in why it ended so quickly with a  decisive Allied victory.

The rivalry was not as intense as the motion  picture suggests and the two men worked together when needed for the  good of the Allied cause.

Born two years apart, both were commissioned within a year of each other  and both were wounded in France in the First World War. Both men  encompassed very different but very valuable characteristics in combat:  Monty-careful and meticulous, Patton-dashing and diplomatic.   Despite  the differences, both generals demonstrated striking similarities:  commitment to their careers, a ruthless egotism, interesting when you  consider neither held superior command. This did not impede their desire  for the limelight and fame in warfare, arrogance and the manipulation  of colleagues in high places to advance their careers.  Both were  machiavellian in their own affairs and self-interested in their own  personal progression.

The great rivalries amongst the Allies that made a real imact were Marshall and Brooke over war policy, Nimitz and MacArthur over resources, Eisenhower and Montgomery over strategy; and then between Percival and MacArthur for incompetence,  Patton and O'Connor for aggressiveness, MacArthur and Clarke for vainglory,  (and possibly  Clarke and Wavell for the stupidity of letting defeated enemies escape),  were the issues that defined the war for the Western allies.

The idea  that a competition between Patton and Montgomery was more important is cute, but naive. I am not even sure where the idea comes from. 

Much is made of the bet between Patton and Montgomery over reaching Palermo in Sicily first, but in practical terms that was the only time in the war that Patton ever appeared on Montgomery's radar.

For the rest  of the war Monty was so much higher up the food chain than Patton that  he was unaware, or disinterested in Patton's opinions. Montgomery  was, by 1944, an experienced general who very successfully fought extensively in both combat and staff roles for 4 years throughout World  War One. (Patton got a combat command for a few weeks when the Germans  were already collapsing.) Montgomery led a division very successfully  through the Battle of France, and a corps through the crucial Battle of  Britain training and rebuilding years. He led an army in combat for two  years, through many successful battles both on defense and in attack.

By  1944 Patton had led a corps for a few months, and an army for a few weeks. For the very brief period of the Sicily compaign they were  theoretically equals in command, but probably only in Patton's mind. Montgomery saw Patton as an enthusiastic if amateurish old man but respected his aggressive boldness. Montgomery saw his HQ 'betting book' as a bit of fun (and was delighted when bet a  B17 by someone who should have known better).

When he and Patton met  and co-ordinated the Sicilian campaign Alexander seemed not interested in co-ordinating, Monty saw Palermo as a similar bit of fun to pursue, no bigger or smaller than the hundreds of other bets in the book.

Patton saw it, as he saw anything relating to his persona, as the most vitally important challenge of his whole life...up until the next one.  Montgomery lost a bet and moved on to the next challenge. Patton won but  didn't. (Or at least that is what bad writers have tried to suggest. I  think he moved straight on to the next challenge anyway.)

That  was the last time Monty and Patton were in direct competition, no matter what revisionists or romantics would say.

The next time Patton was  allowed in the field he was one of half a dozen army commanders in  Monty's Normandy army group, and, familiarly, he did not arrive until  the Germans in Normandy were already collapsing. Very soon afterwards Eisenhower split off Bradley's army group, and Monty had no control, nor much interest, in what Patton was up to thereafter.

The  romantics like to suggest that thereafter Monty railed against Patton's supplies, and that Patton railed against Montgomery's caution. The truth is less foolish for both of them. In fact Montgomery railed  against Eisenhower's broad front strategy regardless of which of the  other sub-commanders was benifitting (to the point of Montgomery making  an offer to serve under Bradley as long as someone got single control to  pursue a single strategy). He railed against the diversion of resources  anywhere not at the main point where a thrust might have achieved early  victory.

Leaving aside whether that victory could have happened,  Montgomery's beef was with Eisenhower first, his appalling chief of supply Lee second, fellow Army Group Commanders who couldn't control the excesses of their subordinates like Bradley (and to a lesser extent) Devers third, and only then with the several army commanders who each tried to do their own thing.

In practical terms Montgomery seemed more appalled by the negative effects of the incompetence of Hodges (1st US Army,) and  the obnoxiousness of General De Gaulle's orders to 'his' army (French First Army), and perhaps even  the ineffectiveness of his own subordinate Crerar  (Canadian 1st army) , than he did by Patton's enthusiasms. There is  hardly a mention of Patton in his diaries through this period, compared  to several comments on Bradley and De Gualle, and endless ones on  Eisenhower.

Patton too is being maligned by the pretense that his  war was taken up with a vain competition with Montgomery. Patton, like  Montgomery, was totally concerned with the main issue of defeating  Germany. But unlike Montgomery, he did not have Brooke  -  the Chief of Imperial General Staff - to rely on for support against  Eisenhower's broad front strategy.

Patton too was convinced that this was the wrong way to go, but to get his version of a thrust (with him at  the front) happening, he had to be a bit more manipulative than Montgomery.

Every word Patton used to wheedle and manipulate  support, or at least a blind eye to what he was doing, was designed to  get more resources from his superiors. Indeed, if he couldn't get them from Eisenhower, he was willing to steal them wherever he could, and  then get Bradley to pretend to not know what he was doing. In this he was quite willing to encourage Bradley's inferiority complex in relation  to Montgomery, and to happily manipulate Bradley into tantrums to get  what they both wanted, but it seems likely that Patton was more  interested in getting his way by making his superiors compete with  Montgomery, than in competing with Montgomery himself.

Patton is  actually a more complex and clever character than the romantics give him credit for. His 'kill them even if they try to surrender' speeches in  Sicily were part of his stage management of troops, not part of his innate personality. HIs 'us against the world' propaganda was more  manipulative, not so much like Bradley's inferiority complex. He wanted to win, and he would use anything to get what he needed to win, even  ramping up his superiors to distrust their allies. But his genuine competitiveness with Montgomery at this stage was less about him and Montgomery, and more about him and how he could maneouvre others to  support him. He would have shown the same level of competitiveness, and  the same willingness to undermine, any competitor at this point, British, French, Russian or even American.

Montgomery on the  other hand only saw Patton as one more junior general syphoning supplies  from an inadequate source. Montgomery was in competition with  Eisenhower for control, and possibly with Bradley for resources. Minor  army commanders in other people's army groups only registered on his horizon if he could get their armies assigned to his army group.

Just for amusement, it might be fun to consider how Montgomery and Patton might have worked together?

Montgomery was notoriously superb to serve under, no matter what your nationality.  British, Australian, New Zealander, South African, Indian, Canadian, French, Polish, and American troops who served under him  were all very happy to do so. So were their generals. Bradley certainly learned more  about being a field commander from a few months of Montgomery's distant mentoring than from anything Eisenhower ever did for him in their much closer relationship.

There is no doubt that Montgomery preferred effective subordinates to ineffective ones, and it seems possible that Patton would have made a preferable subordinate to Crerar or Bradley in his mind.

As for Patton, he would have served anyone who got him what he wanted. Had Montgomery offered him the chance to spearhead the attack into Germany, there is virtually no doubt that Patton would have  jumped at the chance.

Patton was not the racist that Bradley or Eisenhower were, and was happy to have black troops. He was not the American supremacist that Roosevelt or MacArthur were, and worked well with others (as long as they let him have enough lime light).

Had Montgomery been left as land forces commander, there is little doubt that he would have used Patton's aggression in a way that would have  made Patton much happier than Eisenhower's broad front strategy ever allowed.

It is fun to imagine Montgomery as land forces commander using Patton's 3rd Army in conjunction with British 2nd to leapfrog ahead at top speed into Germany. The best British tactics were never the  broad front strategy that the worst American's like Marshall and Eisenhower fancied. They were always the 'hold the enemy, crumble the  enemy, breakthrough the enemy, and pursue with as much force as fast and  far as possible' skills that had worked since the development of  mechanised warfare in 1918. (As demonstrated by the Germans in Poland  and France and Russia, the British and Germans in North Africa, the  Japanese and British in Asia, and the Russians in Eastern Europe.)

Montgomery would have used his traditional two corps up, one back, one resting deployment, adapted to armies, to keep up the momentum. Patton's preferred tactics were almost exactly the same, and he and his 3rd  Army would have fit it like a glove into Montgomery's thrust strategy.

Personally  I think that the limited reality behind their competitiveness paid trumps in Sicily, and I wish that it had been repeated in France. Patton could not have been a worse Army group commander than Bradley was, and would almost certainly have been better.

It is amusing to think of Patton and Montgomery effectively conspiring to destroy the broad front strategy while they got on with winning the war in the best spirit of competition. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that one of Patton's biographers was right to suggest that by 1945 he had suffered a few too many hits on the head, there is little doubt that he would have been almost as valuable to the Allied cause in Bradley's place against Eisenhower's policies directly, as he would have under Montgomery's army  group. That might have been a useful version of rivalry.

[starrynite7114]

Two Weeks (Miguel Galindo)

A/N: Tomorrow is my final and I think I’ve reached the point of a mental breakdown that you’re just numb to it. But no matter, positive thoughts all around and hoping my brain isn’t so mean anymore. But due to this, I needed a much needed distraction and finished part one of my Miguel mini series. He may be a little OOC, but I hope you all enjoy this lovely work of mine.

Everything is you, Snapshots, Misconstrued, and two requests will be posted within the next two weeks. 

Also may be adding Rio to my lovely writing list, we’ll see. 

This is my brain on procrastination, please forgive me. 

Love you all and I hope you lovelies are having an amazing week thus far!

Masterlist

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CREDIT TO THE ORIGINAL GIF CREATOR!

You couldn’t do this, you were at wits end. You wanted nothing more than to throw your work phone away as it constantly rang, constantly interfered with your life, sanity, sleep, and did you already say sanity? Just in case, your sanity. 

“If I ignore it, it never happened.” You looked at the clock and it was three in the morning, you had to be up in three hours to get ready for work to see this despicable man once more. 

The ringing stopped, a sigh of relief overtaking your body. Your eyes closed and yet again, it fucking rang.

“FUCK YOU MIGUEL GALINDO.”

You took a deep breath, gathering what remained of your sanity.

“Hello Mr. Galindo, what can I do for you at three in the morning?”

His chuckle rang across the phone, aggravating you more. “Ooh, Mr. Galindo? I’m in trouble, rightfully so. I apologize for calling you so early in the morning, but I’m in a bit of a conundrum.”

“Miguel, I am not picking you up from Alejandra’s place.”

“I gave Nestor the night off.” He argued.

“I’m technically off too you asshole!” You were one of the few who didn’t fear Miguel. You knew of his capabilities, but you figured you were far too valuable.

“Yes, I am fully aware of that, your nights are sacred. But you know I rarely call you on nights.” He countered.

“Correct that statement.”

“Anymore.” He corrected himself. 

“Miguel, why do you continue to meet this girl if you’re not interested in her?” Ever since his divorce with Emily two years ago, Miguel has been single and kept it that way. Which in hindsight was for the best. With the cartel, real estate, which he still headed with Emily, and the rebels, he had plenty of things to occupy his time. But you knew why he liked the causality of his relationship with Alejandra. 

No strings attached.

No questions.

No commitments.

It fit his lifestyle.

“Because, I have needs and you know, she’s easy on the eyes.”

You begrudgingly got out of bed and made sure to sigh loudly. Miguel chuckled, and you just cussed his name in the three languages you knew. 

“Stop cussing me out in your head. Are you coming to get me?”

“I get the day off.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Better cuddle up then.”

“Fine, but we’re having breakfast then you can have your day off.”

“No work talk during breakfast or the ride home.”

Miguel groaned. “Deal.”

===========

You sat across from Miguel at this diner in San Diego, your usual spot whenever you picked him up from Alejandra’s. Miguel rarely indulged himself or let his real self out due to his obligations as a cartel head. He had a reputation to maintain, his playful and joking nature was hardly in display. But whenever he let himself be free, it was easy to see why Emily fell for him. 

You didn’t, but you could acknowledge why your asshole of a boss could be charming.

You dedicated ten years to Miguel. He taught you the ins and outs of business along with his illegal activities. If he was ever indicted, you knew you would be a target as well. Miguel always tried to keep you out of the cartel side of things, but that proved to be difficult. 

Straight out of college, twenty-two years young with your English major in hand, you applied for Miguel’s assistant position. What was supposed to be an in between job before doing a Master’s program turned into ten years of unfulfillment. You learned much from Miguel. He forced you to learn how to become a business woman, to think like him. You were the brain that wasn’t attached to him. 

But you had to walk away.

You were thirty-two years old, with nothing to your name. You wanted to be something. You couldn’t be his assistant forever. As much as he was a pain, you enjoyed working with Miguel, but you could still enjoy his friendship without working with him.

“Do you think I should involve myself in a relationship again? It doesn’t look good for my image if I remain unattached.” Miguel broke you out of your thoughts.

“True, but if you remain single, less people to worry about. Personal relationships in your line of work is hardly ideal.” This constitutes as business talk, but you’ll let it slide. 

“You’re right, and this is why you’re my right hand.” Miguel knew that technically belonged to Marcus or even Nestor, but he never made a decision without your input. He was just used to it. 

“I wanted to speak to you about something.”

“Go for it.” Miguel gave his full attention to her. “Are you finally going to confess your undying love for me?”

You know she liked playful Miguel, but when he was being this obnoxious, she liked hardened, cartel boss Miguel.

“Right, should I stab you now or later?” You rolled your eyes making Miguel laugh. “I’m going to look for a new secretary.”

“Sure, you need help?” Miguel hardly argued with you. He trusted your judgment after all.

“No, I’m resigning.”

===========

“She has to be in love with me.” Miguel paced back and forth in his office, a few hours after your breakfast.

Nestor watched his boss and closest friend, amused by his suggestion.

“Y/N?” It’s not that Nestor couldn’t see you falling for Miguel, but, that wasn’t it. “You’ve said it yourself that she’s far too bright to remain your assistant forever.”

“That was just insanity talk, of course I expect her to stay by my side.” Miguel stopped in front of Nestor. “She quit right after she picked me up from Alejandra’s. She hated picking me up from there and she never got along with Emily.”

“All circumstantial. You know she cherishes her sleep, most likely the reason she was annoyed. Second, Emily was always a bitch to her.” Emily never liked you since she thought you undermined her with Miguel, which was far from the truth. Nestor witnessed a majority of your fights and it was hardly pretty. “All circumstantial.”

“No, she’s jealous. I know it. No matter, I can get rid of Alejandra.”

Nestor shook his head. He knew this day would come, you spoke to him about it quite often recently. But he didn’t think it would be too soon. He also knew Miguel wouldn’t handle it well. It was hard for him to trust anyone and the fact the person he trusted most was going to leave? 

Miguel was at the first stage, denial. 

===========

You drove up the driveway of Miguel’s home the next morning, Nestor greeting you by your car.

“You had to drop that bombshell and take the day off?” Nestor shook his head. He loved Miguel, he did, but yesterday was full of theories and bullshit he didn’t want to partake in.

“Well if you’re didn’t take the night off then I could have told him later that morning.” You retorted, glaring at your friend.

“You’re punishing me for taking a personal day?”

“I’m not punishing you, I didn’t think he was going to go overboard with the theories.” Nestor texted you every fucking thing that Miguel had said. It went from you having a secret family, secret boyfriend to being in love with him, which was what he settled with.

“To be fair, I said it was all circumstantial.”

“And it is.” You handed your purse to Nestor. “I’m posting the job later and see if we get any candidates that are,”

You paused. “We’ll see if we can find people that are trustworthy.” It wasn’t about skills. It wasn’t about degrees. It was about being trustworthy.

“How can you even determine that?”

“I have good intuition.”

“Right, forgot, you're psychic.” He teased her. 

“Fuck you,” you playfully pushed him.

Nestor opened the door for you and you walked in finding Marcus and Miguel sitting around in the living room.

“There she is,” Miguel greeted you, giving you a hug and kissing your cheek. “How are you?”

“Good,” you gave him an odd look. “You ready, we have a packed day today.”

All three men were looking at you and you gave them a questioning look.

“Am I missing something?” 

“I got you something.” Miguel smiled, taking your hand in his. He led you through the house to the garage and before entering he requested for you to close your eyes. “If you got me a car, I swear to god.”

“Wait, why, did you not want a new car?” Miguel frowned. Materialistic items usually appeased women, it definitely kept Emily’s temper at bay when it was directed at him. But he should know how you were by now. Materialistic items rarely impressed you. He found it odd that the little things he did for you was what left the most impression. He got you a rose gold bracelet for your birthday and while you were thankful, he could tell it didn’t impress you much. He brought you lunch from your favorite restaurant, and it was like he gave you the world. 

Why the fuck did he get you a damn car? 

“I’m not Emily, Miguel, you can’t just wave a shiny thing in front of me and I’ll change my mind.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Did you get me a car?”

“No,” he closed the door. 

Nestor refrained from laughing while Marcus just chuckled.

“You already bought it, might as well let me see.” You nodded your head towards the door.

Miguel indulged you and opened the door. Your mouth dropped. “You got me a Range Rover?” It was your dream car, one that you were saving up for, and now you had it. But you weren’t staying. “As much as I want the car, it’s not going to work. I’ll be posting the job later on today.” You saw that Nestor closed the door as soon as you said that. 

“This is ridiculous, why do you want to quit? Am I not compensating you enough?” Miguel was frustrated. He didn’t want you to leave. How could you leave? He compensated you well. Always made sure you were well taken care of and to top it off, you were basically the closest confidant he had. He trusted you with his life, there was no way he could find anyone he trusted as much as you. 

“I told you, it’s for personal reasons.” You didn’t understand why you had to give him a reason. In any other job, personal reasons would suffice. 

But this was different.

You knew change was not something Miguel was a fan of, he was meticulous and hardly deviated from his normal. He had a schedule and strictly followed it. When the plans deviated, it greatly irritated him, but you always found a way to soften the blow so he wasn’t inconvenienced. 

“I think I warrant more than a generic answer.”

“Miguel, I’ve been your assistant for ten years now. It’s just time for me to move on professionally. I couldn’t possibly be your assistant forever.”

“Are you in love with me?”

He blurted it out so quickly that even he was surprised he did. Miguel hardly said anything without thinking of it, but you were an anomaly to him. He spoke before he thought of his words with you.

“No, absolutely not.” You laughed. “No offense, you’re a good looking guy, but I also know you, so no, I’m not interested.”

“Why not?” Miguel was slightly appalled by your rejection of the idea of being in love with him. Was he not worthy? He was a catch if he said so himself. 

“What? What do you mean why not? I’m not interested, simple as that.” You could tell your rejection affected Miguel. Not everyone fell to his feet, especially not you. “Look, now that we got that theory out of the way, want to try another? Why is it so hard to believe I just want a better career?”

“I can provide that for you.” 

“Miguel, what can I possibly do in your organization that would be a promotion? I swear to god, if you say executive assistant.”

“Come on querida, give me more credit than that.” Miguel chuckled. “You can handle the developmental projects around Santo Padre. You could be my development manager.”

“No, absolutely not, I would have to work with Emily. She already thinks we're sleeping together, the last thing I want to do is deal with Emily.” 

“Y/N, come on, I’m sure I can find something in my organization that can fulfill this desire you have.” Miguel was not comfortable with the thought of losing you. He wasn’t willing to accept it.

“Miguel, we have to move on some time, you’ll be fine. I will find the most eligible candidate for this job. I promise.” You gave him a hug. 

You needed to do this. You couldn’t stay in this job forever, you had to move on.

“Hand them over.”

“What?”

You stuck your hand out. “You got me the car, it would be rude to not take it.”

===========

“She’s in love with me, it's the only logical reason.” Miguel was sitting down on the couch by the pool, nursing the whiskey in his hand.

“Did she not say she wasn’t?” Nestor wasn’t sure why they were talking about this again when Miguel already spoke to you. 

“She’s hiding it.”

“Look, I’m going to ask this at the risk of being killed by you, but out of pure curiosity, are you hoping she’s in love with you so you can confess some deep secret you’ve kept from her?” 

“No, absolutely not, I’m not interested in her, but if it keeps her by my side, I can be with her.”

Nestor gave Miguel an incredulous look, chuckling at his friend’s terrible idea. Though, he couldn’t help, but play Devil’s Advocate.

“You know what, you should pursue her.”

“Now you see what I’m seeing. She wouldn’t be able to say no to me. I know her like the back of my palm.” 

Nestor had to refrain from chuckling. This was going to be a fun two weeks. 

[horrorslashergirl]

May I request another part of Another chance to start off?

Chromeskull x Reader- Another chance to start off Part 4

Authors Note: This oneshot that turned into a story. I almost forgot about it. Also adding some Jesse Childhood Ideas because why not? 

Warnings: 18+ because of childhood abuse and disturbing themes about little Jesse

Words: 1.7k

Part 1 here 

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

It's been two months and you still haven't heard anything from your so-called 'hero' other than the fact that he was on business as his assistant, Spann, called it. That left you to take care of your baby, but still no ability to go out of his place, save for the huge lawn around the palatial villa that you now resided in.

You didn't know anything about this man, and Spann refused to give you any details because it wasn't her place to spoke of such personal details, and according to her, it was his business to tell you, leaving you with tons of question about Jesse, at last, you knew his name.

Considering how much of a serious and sophisticated security system he had, you could only guess he was an important man. You took liberties when your little buddle of joy was sleeping to explore the villa. You agreed that his favorite colors were black, white, and accents of silver chrome and he definitely had an affiliation with skulls, and he had very expensive tastes in everything down from his cars to his clothes to the smallest things.

You were currently sitting on an armchair next to the crib of your baby waiting for your daughter to wake up and feed her.

--------------------------------------------------

Jesse Cromeans had a lot of issues and as big as his 6'7 tall frame he was a handful package; a bad temper, certain sadistic urges, a sassy attitude that made tons of enemies, not like any of them dared to go against him, but little people to probably none knew the whole story behind who he truly was.

One who was very observant could possibly tell that Jesse had mommy issues, considering his victims were all female, save for the brown-nosing males that were just collateral victims.

As a little boy, he was very shy, and his muteness didn't help him either. His family was always a mystery to most who knew him, but none dared to ask him about his relatives, not like in the present he had any. He didn't know his father, and he was always curious as a little boy about who his daddy was.

His mother, from the remaining memories, was a very beautiful woman, giving birth at a young age of twenties to little Jesse. His father didn't want to take the responsibility of raising a child, especially a disabled one, so he pretty much vanished after his mother gave birth to Jesse.

She was still young and clueless about raising a child, alas she took the responsibility and tried, for three years until she was diagnosed with bone cancer. Young mother at the flower of age with such a severe form of cancer was definitely a nightmare and it only persisted until Jesse was six and she died, leaving him to what he knew was the grandfather of his own daddy.

When Jesse asked his grandfather about his dad, the old man simply said that he shouldn't worry about dead bodies like that. His grandfather was a mortician, owning a funeral home company, that left Jesse with spending most of his time there, with the corpses. At first, he was just playing in the hallways, until he got curious and walked into a room, his brown innocent eyes widening at the scene.

That really scarred his mind, his grandfather on top of a dead woman's body...

It only turned worse when his legal guardian, his grandfather getting the full rights of raising Jesse, indulged the little boy into these activities; the first body being that of his own mother.

That not scarred his mind, it destroyed his psychical health.

That was the start of creating a beast, the beast he was today.

Probably that's why he was drawn to you; you were much younger than he was. What you didn't knew was that ever since you were brought to his place you have been monitored day and night. He loved to watch you nurture your baby, take care of the little human that was made of purity and innocence.

He kind of felt jealous in a way, because he wanted the same affection.

Definitely mommy issues.

Who could really blame him? He didn't exactly have a woman type to look up at, and girls were definitely a subject that was tough for him. In his teen years, girls were looking more up to the loud, obnoxious, and confident ones.

Since he started hitting puberty, he grew in height, and grew, and grew. He was a tall and lanky kind of guy, perhaps very awkward, but very intelligent, despite not getting credit for it.

With girls it was a different story, they didn't have the patience with him and his signing. His teenage years were full of nicknames because of his height, girls making fun of him, teasing him, but not in the cute kind way. He slowly started to realize why his grandfather had certain tastes in...women.

If they are dead, they cannot hurt you. Simple.

Still, from time to time he had that starving for affection, someone to be genuinely there for him.

He remembered after he finished high school...He left his hometown and after years of college and slowly but successfully starting his own business, he changed. The lanky and awkward guy bloomed into a ferocious and manipulative mastermind; pale skin by each year filled with more ink, muscles filling his lanky figure.

Jesse changed.

At first, it felt weird to have such control, but once he got that taste, he never wanted to let it go.

Back in the present days, Jesse didn't know what to think of you; he was probably pitying you, although that was highly unlike him. He pities none but seeing you watch over your offspring like a protective mother made his heartbeat in a way he didn't know it was possible.

He took a sip of his whiskey as he looked at the computer screen; tomorrow he will get back home to you and perhaps get to an arrangement, after all, you were wearing his family name.

------------------------------------------------------

It was morning, but you were awake for three hours, now you just finished feeding your daughter and she closed her eyes; after all, it was still the period of the baby that she needed more sleep than an adult, so you tucked her in, smiling at her angelic face.

You heard the door slightly open and turned around, expecting Spann, but you were surprised to see Jesse, your eyes quickly turning into a slight glare, getting in front of the baby's crib like a shielding mother lion.

Jesse found many things attractive on a female, but this was definitely something that triggered a more primal part of his male instincts. There was just something mesmerizing about a mother that protects her baby.

He pulled out his phone to type.

'We need to talk.' the electronic voice spoke, making you furrow your brows.

Despite wanting to give him a piece of your mind, you learned from your past relationship, if you could call it that, that yelling and throwing tantrums won't solve a problem, so you nodded, taking a glance at your baby, not exactly feeling like leaving.

'Spann will look over her while we discuss.' he spoke through the phone.

You followed him downstairs to his study, opening the door for you to enter then closing it to have privacy. You sat down on one of the armchairs in front of his desk, while he took his designated place behind the huge black desk.

'I know things have been inconvenient.'

You snorted at that.

"More like very chaotic. Look...I am very mad by this whole kidnapping-owning thing, but I also knew I should be grateful to you for saving me from my now dead abusive husband, which reminds me....You killed him...and it didn't look like it was your first time." you spoke in a firm voice.

Jesse smirked at that. Smart one...That's good.

'Then I should probably let you know everything.'

He began to explain everything, down from his facade chroming business to the real deal of the organization, everything about killing, snuff films, and piggies. It was like someone was telling you a horror story, leaving you shocked and disgusted.

"Great....so basically now I am involved in a mafia kind of thing." you sarcastically said, rubbing your forehead in exasperation.

'You can take it like that.' He waved it off, shrugging.

You sighed, then looked at him.

"What will happen to me?" you asked, pursing your lips into a thin line.

'Nothing. If I wanted you dead, you would have been from that night we meet.'

"That really relaxes me." you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

'I will protect you and your daughter.'

That surprised you. Why was he so willing to help a woman he barely knew and her baby? You tried to find an answer yourself but decided to ask him and his answer was ever more so intriguing you.

'No child deserves to grow without parents.'

He looked like he knew what he meant, perhaps he went through the same ordeal, without family, but it was too early to ask him such sensitive topics since you didn't know each other that good.

"So, you basically want me as your wife?" you asked in amusement, but his look showed that he was serious.

'I'm not forcing you. It's your choice.'

You huffed then decided.

"Probably too early...Can I, at last, get to know my future husband?" you asked, sassiness dripping from your voice, but behind it, it was sincerity.

Jesse was to say it, surprised by your words, and couldn't help but give you a toothy grin. He got up from his chair and walked towards you. You got up as well and were a little nervous when he was just inches away from you, his fingers typing on his phone.

'Tonight. Dinner. Spann will babysit your daughter. You need some quality time.'

You thought a little about it and decided that everyone deserved a chance to start off.

"Yes. I would like that."

Jesse smirked in victory and leaned down to kiss you, only for your index finger to press gently against his scarred lips.

"Don't push your luck." you said with a cheeky smile, making him chuckle silently.

Yes, indeed everyone deserved another chance to start off.

[frankiefellinlove]

THE STEVIE FILES PROUDLY PRESENTS - THE AMAZING ROCK & ROLL ODYSSEY OF STEVEN VAN ZANDT

From The Source to Soulfire via Springsteen and Sam & Dave

Recorded, transcribed, edited, written, produced, mixed and mastered by MIKE SAUNDERS

SIDE TWO (1975-1983)

Track 6: Miami Steve, The Asbury Jukes, Tenth Avenue and Hammersmith

In early 1975, Steven returned to New Jersey from Florida, inappropriately dressed for the winter weather. “I came back with the flowered shirts and the Sam Snead hat and continued wearing them in the snow.” For the next seven years, he was known as Miami Steve. He joined Southside in the Blackberry Booze Band and within weeks they’d altered and expanded its line-up (adding keyboard player Kevin Kavanaugh from Middletown and bass player Alan Berger from The Dovells’ backing band), transformed its musical direction, changed its name to Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes (referencing their mutual hero Little Walter’s band and first single release) and established a successful three-nights-a-week, five-sets-a-night residency at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park.

“Just before that, me, Southside, Bruce and Garry went to see Sam & Dave. A life-changing moment. So me and Southside basically decided we were gonna be the white Sam & Dave, with rock guitar. So the horns came in and although we didn’t know it, we would change the entire concept of what a bar band sounded like and the respect a bar band would get by making it creative, soul meets rock. ‘Bar band’ was an insult. ‘You’re a bar band,’ which means you can’t make it in the real music world. After the Jukes, they started using ‘bar band’ in reviews and they meant it as a compliment, with Graham Parker and Elvis Costello and Mink DeVille. We changed the way people thought about these things.”

The Miami Horns were a vital component of the new band. Steven composed the horn arrangements, but although he’s always possessed a natural ability to imagine horn parts, he doesn’t read or write music (“never have”) and has always required a little help from his friends to transcribe them. “I have people write ‘em down, to this day. I like that actually. You have to do a lotta things yourself so any excuse I find to collaborate I do it. I find other people will bring something to the party usually. That’s why [I’ve] used Eddie Manion for I don’t know how many years. He knows how I like to voice things. Once I think of something and create the parts, I get bored if I have to voice every part, exactly right. If I hear a voicing I don’t like, I will change it, but I get bored by the mechanics of everything.”

While the Jukes were building their reputation and growing their audience, Bruce invited Steven to hang out at the Born To Run sessions in New York, where he was working on “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.” David Sanborn and The Brecker Brothers had been hired to play the horn parts, but Steven created a spontaneous new arrangement. He’s told this anecdote countless times, but I ask him to repeat it because it provides perfect examples of his innate musical talents in action (“I can hear the parts, who knows why?”), the nature of his friendship with Bruce (“I still am the only human being not afraid of him”), and his no-bullshit attitude (“I didn’t know anything about diplomacy”).

“So he says, ‘Whaddya think?’ I said, ‘It sucks, that’s what I think!’ I didn’t know how uptight everybody was. I didn’t give a fuck either. The managers and producers were all afraid of him already. He asked me a question, I’m gonna be honest. I’m trying to help my friend here, not make points with some fucking record company guy. Moment of silence. ‘He just said it sucks, which means we all suck.’ Bruce [says] ‘Alright then, go in and fucking fix it.’ So I did. I went in and sang the [new] parts. I didn’t know they were the most famous [session] guys in New York. It wasn’t insulting them, the chart was ridiculous. That was my thing, just from the Jukes being around maybe six months.”

“I wasn’t really feeling the pressure that Bruce was at the time. I didn’t realise his life depended on this album. His first two records hadn’t done very well. They wanted to drop him. I don’t know how aware I was of any of that. He invited me into the session and I’m laying on the floor. All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Soon after making his instinctive artistic contribution (and singing backing vocals on “Thunder Road”), Steven was invited to join the E Street Band. It was a chance to complete the circle, play with his old friend again and settle any unfinished business from three summers earlier, when he’d been sent packing at the Greetings sessions. He made his live debut on the opening night of the Born To Run tour, which ran until New Year’s Eve. His input and influence over the next decade, onstage and off, would prove invaluable. (Bruce even began playing The Dovells’ “You Can’t Sit Down” as an occasional encore). In the fall, the tour took everyone to Europe for the first time, where the culture shock was off the charts. “There was no hamburgers, no peanut butter. The only place you could get a hamburger in the whole of Europe was the newly-opened first Hard Rock Café. There was a line around the block even then.”

Culinary deficiencies aside, Bruce also had to endure the overblown hype surrounding his first UK gigs at London’s Hammersmith Odeon, where Columbia had displayed the legend “Finally London Is Ready For Bruce Springsteen” on every available surface prior to his arrival. “[It was] completely obnoxious,” says Steven. “[Bruce] spent half the time ripping down posters. It was an embarrassing time for him, between that and Time and Newsweek. He didn’t like that stuff. You wanna be in charge of your life, that’s why we get into rock ‘n’ roll. Suddenly it was slipping out of his control. We made the mistake of playing a place with seats. It just made the show that much harder. But by the end, we got ‘em outta the seats. We went to Amsterdam, Stockholm, and back to London. The second one was a bit easier.” The experience had a prolonged effect on Bruce. “He was uptight in those days and would remain so through Darkness into The River, until he asked me to produce the record and we found a way to have some fun.”

Track 7: Epic Records, Steve Popovich and The Stone Pony

Back on the shore, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes continued the Stone Pony residency throughout 1975, gradually consolidating their line-up. For the next three years, between Springsteen commitments, Steven worked as their producer, arranger, manager, part-time guitarist and principal songwriter. In early 1976, after circulating a demo tape, they signed a recording deal with Epic, with assistance from Steve Popovich, the label’s Vice-President of A&R. “I Don’t Want To Go Home,” the song that Steven had kept in his back pocket since his days on the oldies circuit, became the title track of their debut album and their first single. Ben E King’s loss was Southside’s gain.

“I produced [the song] in a way which was appropriate for the Jukes. They didn’t have a big background vocal thing going on,” explains Steven. “I was very conscious of being able to try and do most of it live, although I put strings on it, on my very first production! There was no synthesiser in those days that could play strings. That’s why I re-cut it [on Soulfire] the original way I pictured it, with the singer and background vocals answering. That idea of writing for someone else is extremely important, critical and essential. It changes the way you write completely, from when you think of writing for yourself, which is extraordinarily complicated and confusing. It’s not easy, but easier, to write for someone else. There’s their identity in your mind at least. I’m writing them a song. That’s a wonderful exercise for songwriters.” I Don’t Want To Go Home was released in the summer of 1976 (“I’ve never received one penny of royalties, but whatever!”). The Jukes later began their first national tour and made their European debut in 1977.

Recommended by Bruce, Steve Popovich was one of a kind. “The last of the real music guys in the business. The only other person I can compare him to would be Lance Freed on the publishing side, who’s unique. He’s actually into music and songwriting and the things you’re supposed to be into when you have a job description like that. And Frank Barsalona, the only agent who really did his job and would set the standard for everybody to follow. Those three guys, really quite historic. [It was] Popovich’s idea to launch the record with a broadcast from the Stone Pony. Never been done before. Popovich loved the local scene idea and he largely made it happen. It never would have been recognised nationally, I don’t think, if it hadn’t been for Popovich, who had the vision to say it’s cool if you’re not from New York. Rather than being embarrassed if you’re not from New York, LA or Nashville, it’s actually cool.”

Track 8: Production Credits and Political Awakening

Steven developed his talents as a producer and songwriter with the Jukes in the late 70s, following I Don’t Want To Go Home with This Time It’s For Real and Hearts Of Stone. Successive releases featured greater quantities of his original material, which included “I Played The Fool,” “This Time Baby’s Gone For Good,” “Take It Inside” and “Some Things Just Don’t Change,” apparently written for another of his heroes, David Ruffin of The Temptations. During this period, he also produced the “Say Goodbye To Hollywood” single for Ronnie Spector and the E Street Band and provided production assistance on Darkness On The Edge Of Town. His relationship with the Jukes ended when they left Epic for Mercury in 1979 and he went on to co-produce The River and two comeback albums for Gary US Bonds, Dedication and On The Line. It was an impressive fast-track apprenticeship. Steven had no production experience when he began. He acquired the skills and learned from his mistakes in the studio. “That’s why all three Jukes albums are different,” he says. “By the time we did The River, I knew what I wanted to do. I got it all down by then. That’s how I tend to do things. I can picture what I want. Jump in, do it, let’s see what happens.”

Steven also kept his promise to himself to bring his musical heroes out of obscurity, initially as guests on the first two Jukes albums. “I did what I could, but I wanted to do so much more,” he admits. “First time I get in a studio, got Lee Dorsey out from under a car, where he’s a mechanic. Got Ronnie Spector out of retirement. Second album, we reunited The Coasters, Drifters and Five Satins. Me and Bruce worked with Gary Bonds. We got Ben E King and Chuck Jackson on that record. Those artists had a talent level noticeably above everybody that followed. I wish I’d been insistent on doing more of them. In those [early] days, you actually had to have talent to make records. You had to be able to sing a song, beginning to end, perfectly in tune, perfectly the right melody, and if you fuck up one word, you gotta do the whole thing again. Couldn’t do enough for those people, they were so much fun to produce.”

In addition to his studio accomplishments, Steven played more than 300 shows with Bruce and the E Street Band between 1976 and 1981, primarily on the Darkness On The Edge Of Town and River tours. The majority took place in North America, but the River tour included a European leg that took the band away from home and out of their comfort zone for nine weeks. Much longer than their previous visit in 1975, it was their first significant experience of foreign countries, languages, cultures and political perspectives. They received rave reviews wherever they played, but Steven gradually became aware that not all Europeans viewed the United States in a favourable light.

One particular encounter was pivotal in dramatically reshaping Steven’s worldview. “A kid asked me, ‘Why are you putting missiles in my country?’ I said, ‘I’m not, I’m a guitar player.’ I realised, for the first time in my life, at the age of 30 I’m embarrassed to say, that I’m an American. What the fuck does that mean? I managed to grow up in the middle of civil rights, the Vietnam War, demonstrations about every fucking thing and had no interest in any of it. Amazing when you think about it. Redefining tunnel vision. Suddenly, the tunnel is gone. We’re now successful. Who would have ever figured that would happen, right? Now it’s like, uh-oh, what did I miss, the last 20 years?”

Track 9: Men Without Women, Motown and Mixing In Mono

This revelation accelerated Steven’s growing political awareness, one of two important developments in 1981 that would change the course of his life forever. The second came when he returned from Europe and was approached by EMI America about making a solo album. Having spent six years producing and writing for others, he welcomed the opportunity to have his own creative outlet, which soon expanded into a separate career. In the fall, he enlisted musicians from the E Street Band and the Asbury Jukes to record most of the material for his debut album, Men Without Women, using his established rock-meets-soul sonic blueprint. Including “Lyin’ In A Bed Of Fire,” “Princess Of Little Italy,” “Angel Eyes” and “Until The Good Is Gone,” it remains an undisputed career highlight for Van Zandt devotees, but Steven feels that an outside producer might have helped him make a more commercial record.

“Conventional wisdom is you never should produce yourself and I have to say that’s correct. The only exception I can think of in the history of the business was Prince, who was an extraordinary genius, but other than him, I don’t know anybody who successfully produces themselves.” Describing himself as “extremely schizophrenic, I’m twelve different people, never mind two,” Steven explains how his inner producer failed to control the whims of his inner artist. “Without knowing it, the artist takes over. I was into this extreme naturalism, no logical reason why. I did the whole album live in one day. Came back the second day, did it again, beginning to end. Couple overdubs, that was it. There’s one guitar. The horns aren’t doubled. Nothing’s doubled. Bruce did all the harmony on that record but we couldn’t use his name. We [did] a similar thing with Born In The USA, where we just recorded live in the studio.”

“I made Bob Clearmountain mix ‘Forever’ in mono, to try and achieve the perfect Motown record. It’s never gonna be exact and it shouldn’t be exact, why should it be, but I wanted to capture a Smokey Robinson Motown record. The only way I could do that in my mind was to make it completely mono. He was so good in those days. I mean Bob’s still the best, but in those days he was beyond the best. He was something else when it came down to that Neve board that wasn’t automated, and he’s feelin’ those faders. I made him do something he’d never done before, which requires a whole different way of thinking. You’re now thinking depth-wise and vertically, not horizontally.”

“That’s where my head was at. Can I achieve the emotional communication that my heroes had provided me? My heroes being Motown in general, 10 acts there. Or my heroes at Chess, another 10 acts. Sam Phillips did ‘Rocket 88’ for Ike Turner (Jackie Brenston) and ‘How Many More Years’ for Howlin’ Wolf, three years before Elvis Presley. Unbelievable genius. [I’m] trying to achieve that level of quality in my own world, in my own little bubble, which has these ridiculously high standards. I’m absorbing the 50s and 60s and then trying to integrate them in my head and reproduce them in my own way, not the least bit interested in what’s going on in the 70s or 80s certainly, because it was shit to me, comparatively. An interesting moment here and there. Punk was certainly interesting. But mostly it’s all coming from what I call the renaissance period, ‘51 to ‘71, where it all was created. And that’s true to this day. That’s all I was interested in and that was enough for 10 lifetimes. I didn’t need another bit of input after 1972.”

Track 10: Little Steven, Little Richard and Bob Dylan

In 1982, after recording with Bruce and Gary US Bonds, Steven completed his album, formed the Disciples of Soul (which included Dino Danelli from The Rascals on drums, Jean Beauvoir on bass and Eddie Manion, Mark Pender, Stan Harrison and La Bamba on horns) and played a debut concert at New York’s Peppermint Lounge. Released in October, a month after Nebraska, Men Without Women preceded his first national tour and was credited to his new professional name of Little Steven, which would be used for all future solo activities. “I just wanted separation [from] being the sideman,” he explains. “Each of my personalities required a different name, in order to keep it straight in people’s heads and my own head.” The name referenced his early heroes Little Walter, Little Anthony and Little Richard. In his role as an ordained minister, the latter officiated at Steven’s wedding to Maureen Santoro in New York on New Year’s Eve. Percy Sledge sang “When A Man Loves A Woman” as they walked down the aisle and the reception included performances from Gary US Bonds, Little Milton, The Chambers Brothers and the wedding band from The Godfather. “Little Anthony was doing a cruise at the time or he would have been there.”

“All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Steven toured internationally in 1983, then dropped the horns, adopted a more contemporary rock sound and made his second album, Voice Of America. It was an explicitly political record that featured “Solidarity,” “I Am A Patriot,” “Out Of The Darkness,” “Los Desaparecidos” and “Undefeated.” Triggered by his River tour experiences in Europe, this radical transformation was completed with a long period of self-education. “I read every book about post World War Two [US] foreign policy. [It was] shocking how often we were on the wrong side. All of these bad things were happening behind the scenes and nobody was talking about them. No political consciousness whatsoever in the country. I decided I have an obligation to say something about this stuff that we’re all paying for with our taxes.”

“Being conscious of the fact that everybody needs their own identity, I figured who the hell needs another love song from a fucking sideman? I’ll be the political guy. Nobody else is doing it. There were people demonstrating of course. Jackson Browne, John Hall, Bonnie Raitt, Graham Nash, those guys. The Grateful Dead were doing a benefit every week, but rarely did it end up in the work. In general, people weren’t putting much politics into the lyrics of their songs.” For artists with commercial aspirations, he concedes, that’s a smart move. “Jefferson Airplane being an exception with ‘Volunteers.’ Big exception, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, with Neil Young’s ‘Ohio.’”

Steven contends that Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” introduced the idea of political consciousness in rock ‘n’ roll. “His first electric song. It’s not given enough credit. The first sentence from Bob Dylan’s electric period, ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine, I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ What? You’re doing what? You’re thinking about the government? Excuse me? Who does that? Whoever did that before, in a song, no less? There in that one sentence, Bob Dylan communicated what his entire career was gonna be about, which was having fun with language, with inference, symbolism, metaphor and nonsense lyrics that rhymed. ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine,’ what does that mean? It means whatever you want it to mean, right? Then ‘I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ Holy shit! You mean we’re supposed to figure out the government? That, to me, is the most important sentence in all the history of rock ‘n’ roll, right there.”

All photos below by Mike Saunders

[writerpeach]

Club Mimosa [Ch 4] - Empty

---

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You woke up the next morning in an empty bed after a night with Chaeyoung and had nobody to blame but yourself. The covers felt heavy as you pushed them off, unprepared to start the day.  

Countless thoughts ran through your mind as you dressed for work, slipping a dull pair of slacks you had worn day after day, trying your tie in the same exact way so many times you could have done it in your sleep. The dreaded morning routine was thankfully interrupted when your phone buzzed and broke up the monotony.

Chaeyoung (7:45 am) > Thanks for last night. It was hot and I'm still sore.

Just wanted to say I'm not looking for anything but a good time, so if you wanna hook up again you let me know.

Enjoy work.

Well that was one less thing to worry about, and any potential feelings about Chaeyoung you might have harbored didn't matter now. You headed to work and took a look at Club Mimosa on the way. Still closed of course, not that it would have been open at this early hour.

Work was not enjoyable to say the least. The minutes felt like days as you caught up on what needed to be done, eyes glazing over as fatigue sat in. You leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes, and for the second time day your phone interrupted at the best time.

Hirai Momo (4:30 pm) > Hey, it's Momo. From the club.

You (4:31 pm) > Hello Momo!

Hirai Momo (4:33 pm) > You should come see me. It's been a while.

You (4:36 pm) > I would love to, but isn't the club closed?

Hirai Momo (4:39 pm) > It is, at least for a couple more days, but I still have access. Will you be off work around nine?

You (4:39 pm) > God, I sure hope so. If not, I'll force myself to leave.

Hirai Momo (4:41 pm) > Great! Meet me at the side entrance, it's around where my car was last time. And bring wine!

You stopped by a wine store on the way to the club and asked for a recommendation, something tasty and something not outrageously expensive were your only two requirements. You were in and out and left with a bottle of red wine on your way to meet Momo for the first time in a week.

The brisk walk to Club Mimosa was comfortable. The sun had set already, and even though the weather had already changed, the weather was fairly mild given the time. Not particularly cold or hot.

You turned the corner of Club Mimosa's building and headed towards the parking lot just minutes before nine, this time taking notice of the disturbing lack of garishness that made the building empty. Momo's flashy car was parked already, and it seemed she matched your punctuality.

As you approached, the door opened and out walked the familiar Japanese woman, surprisingly dressed casually this time in short ripped jean shorts, a dark jean jacket that hung off her shoulder and underneath was a plain white tee that had hiked itself up enough to give more than a taste of Momo's appetizing midriff. Even from your distance you could notice it was a little more than see-through.

You missed Momo's elegance but the way she dressed down gave that girl next door vibe, something you found even more appealing.

"Hey stranger," she said with a warm greeting smile, and you returned one of your own as you presented the bottle of wine in your hands.

"Ooh, can't wait to try it. I don't normally dress this casually, but I had some unexpected errands and didn't have time to change. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, you look great Momo. I didn't exactly have time to change either."

Momo grinned shyly. "Let's head in," she said as she grabbed a set of keys and unlocked the entrance. You followed her in as she flicked on a set of light switches and locked the door tight again behind her.

Momo led the way as she navigated through a long hallway connected to lockers and dark dressing rooms, multiple offices and break rooms. Momo flicked on more lights and you found yourself on the familiar floor of Club Mimosa right next to the bar. Seeing it devoid of loud music, loud drinking patrons was eerie.    

"Since there's nobody here we can head up to the VIP lounge if you'd like."

You nodded and Momo slipped her jacket off and tossed it on the bar's counter, heading behind the bar and grabbed two wine glasses.

"Got anything to open this?"

"We wouldn't be much of a club if we didn't," Momo giggled as she searched through one of the drawers behind the bar.

"Here, you open it," Momo said as she handed you a corkscrew. "It always scares me."

"That's adorable," you said and Momo pouted. You unwrapped the seal of the bottle as Momo covered her ears, and the cork of the wine bottle slipped out with a dampened pop that you couldn't help but laugh at the weak noise.

"That wasn't so bad," you said, as Momo stuck her tongue out and left from out behind the bar, glasses in hand.

"Follow me, sir," she chuckled as she headed up the VIP area and up the winding stairs as you followed her up. The lights came on, although much dimmer than downstairs and ambient music played. The VIP lounge was much fancier than expected. The long circular couches were black instead of white, the booths more spacious and more comfortable looking, and the entire area had a general level of expected extravagance to it.

"This place is so different when it's...quiet," you said. Momo nodded in agreement as you sat down in the middle of the couch, placing the dark-colored bottle of wine on the table in front as Momo sat to the left of you, placing the glasses right beside the wine.

"Quiet is nice," Momo said, and she instinctively grabbed the bottle of wine, but you gently nudged it away from her.

"Let me pour for once."

"Okay," Momo said, with a cute shy expression. You poured her glass first and then your own, filling both a little more than halfway. You clinked glasses and Momo swirled the dark red liquid around in her glass, letting the aroma hit her senses.

"Smells amazing."

Momo brought the brim of the glass to her full red lips and tilted it back, taking a long sip of the wine and letting out a sound of satisfaction afterward.

"Taste amazing too. You picked well!"

"I didn't do anything. Sorry to say someone else picked it for me," you chuckled.

"Well, you should have taken all the credit, I never would have known."

Momo took another sip and adjusted in her seat, making sure her attention was on you. "How have you been?"

You didn't give as much care to the wine as Momo did and drank it right away. It tasted sweet and miles ahead better than the cheap bottom aisle bottles you always bought at convenience stores.

"Busy. This is the first time this week I've been able to see the sun going down. How about you?"

"Well I'm glad to have been responsible for that," she smiled. "It's been a strange couple of days. I'm not used to having free time, but this place should be up and running by the weekend though."

"Can't wait for the anticipated return."

"Maybe I should have them delay it," she giggled, as you met her with a confused look.

"Who needs a club when you have a beautiful hostess right in front of you? You don't even have to pay for my company tonight."

"Ah...when you put it that way."

Momo laughed. "I'm just teasing. It would be nice to make money again though."

"I have cash in my wallet if you-"

Momo shook her head. "You know I don't need it. I don't really need anything. What you can give me is what most of my clients can't."

"What's that?"

"Satisfaction."

You didn't know what she meant by that.

"You show respect for me. You're not drunk off your ass when you visit, and you don't look at me like I'm a meal like some of the obnoxious unkempt men that come in. I'm happy when you come in, I don't have many clients that I actually look forward to seeing."

Momo poured herself another glass and looked almost apologetic for her venting.

"That sounds...rough."

"Perks of being at the top. Being number one means you have to deal with a lot of shitty customers. Sometimes I wish I wasn't popular, things would be so much easier."

Momo took another long gulp of her wine. "I shouldn't complain, I'm sure the other hostesses would love to take my spot in a flash."

Momo sighed and quickly changed the subject. "So tell me...I heard that you had a little fun with one of our Korean hostesses."

"I-I...I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't even know there were Korean women working here," you said as you put on your best innocent smile.

"Yeah I bet mister."

"I guess you caught me."

Momo topped off her wine. "I don't blame you. Chaeyoung is hot. And feisty. I'd bang her."

You nearly choked on your wine at her abrupt confession.

"Chaeyoung doesn't have rules like I do, I get it..."

"Hey, that wasn't the only reason I-

"You don't have to explain. What or who you do is none of my business." Momo said calmly.

Momo polished off her wine and crossed her legs.

"But you know...that rule is only for first dates. I don't have anything for a second date," she said with a playful grin. The two of you made sudden unbreakable eye contact.

"Is this...a second date?" you asked.

"You tell me..." she smirked.

"Well...we're alone, and we're drinking, and if I didn't know better I'd say you were flirting just a little bit."

"Only a little? Guess I need more wine in me."

Momo rested her empty glass on the marble table in front. She leaned back against the couch with a smugly satisfied look plastered on her face.

"Well this has been nice," Momo said abruptly

"It has. Are you kicking me out?" you teased.

"I could never. Not even if you were the drunkest client in the whole club."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't worry. Our date is just getting started."

Momo rose to her feet and carefully crawled over your lap before she took a seat down and straddled you, a smile etched across her full red lips. It was at this distance that you could see just how well Momo's shirt hugged her chest. You tried not to stare.

Momo bit her lips as she placed her hands on your shoulders, the sexual tension palpable as ever while you awaited her next move.

"If you're still trying to seduce me Miss Hirai, I have to let you know that's no longer necessary."

Momo blushed. "Seduce you? I would never."

Instantly betraying her words she slowly leaned in and you followed until your lips embraced, softly smacking against each other, tasting the wine on each other's lips. Momo's lips were unforgettably soft and warm, supplying a comfort as they pressed tight against your own as you wrapped your hands around her bare waist, the skin of her body warm and soft.

"I'm not used to taking the lead," Momo said as your faces were close enough to touch, taking in the intimacy of the moment.

"Then get used to it."

Momo's shyness twisted into confidence as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and peeled it off her tight body, leaving her ample breasts clothed in a lacy white bra that was every bit as elegant as she was. You noticed right away just how damn toned her arms were as if Momo needed another thing that made her even sexier.

She leaned forward to give you a good look of her plentiful cleavage, knowing nothing would stop you from staring at her sizable breasts.

"Do you like them?" Momo playfully asked.

"How could I not? I love them."

"Good," Momo said as she grabbed your wrists and guided your hands towards her scrumptious tits, helping you squeeze them. She whined as you both squeezed her breasts, and through the pesky constraints of her bra you could feel just how large and soft they felt.

"Take this off," Momo demanded, becoming more comfortable with being in control. You slid your hands around her slender waist, and at the same time buried your lips into the crook of her neck and sucked away on her sensitive skin. Momo whined again even cuter but had a sudden moment of panic.

"W-wait, you can't leave a mark. At least not where anyone can see," she giggled as you found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, slipping it off her and freeing her perfect breasts as they bounced out of their restraints.

You didn't dawdle as you dove in, cupping both of Momo's delicious round breasts and squeezing, they fit into your hands perfectly as you kneaded them gently, the perfect softness and weight of them infinitely arousing you as they felt heavenly in your hands.

Momo's confidence turned into lust as you kissed each of her breasts, licking in between her generous cleavage before you turned and teased her nipple with your tongue, feeling it hardening as you flicked against it and earned a needy moan from her. Momo wrapped a hand around the back of your head as you continued your assault on her amazing breasts, licking and slurping away at both of her stiff pink nipples, encouraged by the continuation of her vocal approval as you stimulated her.

As you gave her chest a rest you felt your face being pressed against her big tits, Momo took the liberty to smother you in her cleavage. You had no complaints as you felt yourself being buried against what felt like the two softest roundest pillows in existence, and Momo couldn't help but giggle.

When she let go a small devilish grin washed over her lip as you explored every inch of her perfect round tits.

"You know...Momo means peach in Japanese," she said as her devilish lips formed a huge smirk on them.

"I did know that," you answered. "And it just so happens that peaches are one of my favorite fruits to eat."

Momo shoved herself off your lap, climbing on top of the table behind her. "Come eat me then. See how good I taste for yourself," she ordered.

Moving forward in your seat you quickly grabbed hold of Momo's shorts, unbuttoning and yanking the zipper down as you jerked them off her body, leaving her merely in a skimpy pair of muted pink panties.

You stared at Momo's clothed crotch like you were about to feast on an expensive steak, licking your lips at the mouth-watering sight.

"I've wanted to do this for so long. Ever since I first laid eyes on you and became your newest client. I've wanted you for so long, Momo."

"You can have me then. You can have all of me."

Momo leaned back with her ass resting on the edge of the table, spreading her delicious thighs and invited you in. You planted a soft kiss on each of her thighs and brought your mouth just in front of her crotch, licking a long stripe against the front of her panties that earned a soft gasp as you licked again, and again, and again, feeling the fabric becoming wetter with each swipe of your tongue.

"Don't tease me..." she whined, her voice plentiful of need and desire.

"You know that's just going to make me want to do it more," you said as you pressed one finger against the damp material of her underwear, tracing the outline of Momo as her panties became more and more ruined.

You let your focus drop from Momo's saturated panties and turned your attention towards her thighs, keeping a finger lightly pressed against the front of her core as you kissed and licked the soft delicate skin of one of her thighs, hearing cute whimpers escaping from Momo's lips as your tongue explored the skin.

"P-please..." Momo begged but you ignored her, intent on teasing her as you felt her panties becoming drenched. The desperation in her eyes was evident, but you didn't plan on stopping until you left at least one mark on one of those beautiful thighs, your lips sucking away until you had accomplished your goal.

You let Momo relax for a moment, eyes concentrated on the not so subtle wetness between her thighs, and when your patience ran out, you grabbed the ruined pair of panties and slowly peeled them off Momo's wide hips, pulling them down and disposing of them.

Momo's nude body was an absolute work of art, curves everywhere in all the right places along with full round breasts, killer thighs, and that amazing flat tummy. Her pretty pink pussy glistened with her juices, but before you could give yourself a taste you noticed the wine glass you had left on the table that still had just a bit of wine left.

You grabbed it and without any hesitation you tilted the glass over the naked midriff of Momo, pouring the leftover wine all over her perfect abs. Momo had a surprised look on her face but didn't seem to mind, nor did she as you slid your tongue over the surface of her abdomen, licking her clean of wine, making sure to not miss a drop as your tongue glossed over every inch of her tight stomach.

"Taste good?"

"Tastes even better now."

Momo seemed completely warmed up so you decided to forgo any more teasing, placing a palm on each of her warm thighs to help spread them wide, the delectable set of pink pussy lips in between whetting your appetite.

With a quick glance at Momo to seek approval, the desire and need in her round eyes let you know she was more than ready.

The empty club gave you all the time in the world, but you wanted to make every second count as you dove straight into Momo's pussy, taking the first taste as you gave her wet pink slit a slow long lick from bottom to top as Momo gasped.

You licked slowly in between Momo's wet folds, coating your tongue with her juices as you deliberately avoided her clit for the first few swipes, listening to the cute whimpers and moans that escaped from her that was the evidence of her satisfaction.

Momo's eyes closed as your tongue traveled slowly up and down her pussy, moving in between her delicious slippery lips until you finally reached her swollen clit, circling around it and flicking lazy strokes. Momo moaned loudly and you loved the look on her face as you pleased her.

You knew Momo needed more and you were happy to give it to her, flicking against her pink sensitive nub before taking her clit into your mouth, closing your lips around it and suckling it gently. Momo felt the pleasure immediately as her body jerked, and those constant whiny moans of hers became all the encouragement you needed.

"Oh my god that feels good...keep going..." she moaned, and nothing would keep you from eating Momo's pussy, keeping her clit in between your lips as you slurped on it messily, listening to the beautiful whines and whimpers as Momo lost herself.

"Fuck, oh fuck," Momo cried out as you devoured her delicious sensitive pussy. You felt the warmth of her soft thighs closing around your head, hearing the cutest of moans released with every movement of your lips and tongue, the scrumptious taste of her juices flooding your tongue encouraging you to never, ever stop.

Momo sat up just enough so she could reach a handful of your hair, running her fingers through it before grabbing on the back of your head, desperately trying to force your tongue even deeper inside her messy wet cunt. You kept eye contact with a very needy Momo, the pressure on her clit firm enough without being excessive, watching her becoming a squirmy mess with every flick of your tongue.

"I-i'm going to cum, don't stop, please don't fucking stop!" Momo cried out as you felt her thighs squeezing around your head even more, keeping you in the most perfect position.

It took no time at all for Momo to let loose, climaxing hard as her thighs shook violently around your head, toes curling and shrieking with pleasure. You struggled to keep your lips on her clit but did your best as Momo drenched your mouth and chin in her appetizing juices, letting her intense orgasm run its course as you lapped up every tasty drop she deposited into your lips.

When Momo came back down you gently removed your mouth and tongue from her clit, cleaning up her thighs as they loosened their grip and allowed you to breathe properly. You looked up at a still panting Momo, eyes glazed over and those delicious breasts heaving up and down as she recovered.

"You okay?"

"N-never been better."

You gently pulled Momo up by her wrists and leaned into another kiss, making her taste herself as she continued to catch her breath. Once she felt her senses regaining she looked up at you with a mischievous look upon her features.

"What?"

"You have too many clothes on," she said as she playfully shoved you back onto the couch.

Momo unbuttoned your shirt and helped you out of it as she slowly lowered to her knees, running a hand through her hair as she looked up. She practically ripped your pants off as she pulled them down and left you in your boxers, a sly look on her face as the bulge poking out met her.

She licked at your cock through your boxers with her wet tongue, leaving a damp spot as she traced the outline of your shaft dying to be released. She placed her lips at the head of your cock through the fabric, the familiar hot breath soaking through in a way that drove you wild already.

"I can tease too," she giggled as you felt the wetness of her tongue against the frustrating barrier of your underwear.

Momo didn't have your same patience though, she had a hunger that needed to be quenched. She made quick work of your boxers as she pulled them off your body, leaving both of you naked with piles of clothes everywhere. Momo's eyes went wide at your unleashed cock and she immediately grabbed it and slowly stroked, feeling every inch of it hard as a rock.

Momo placed her wet tongue flat at the base of your cock, slowly licking long stripes up and down your shaft. She knew already what drove you wild and she had the advantage now, flicking around your leaking slit before she traced alongside the sensitive head of your cock, smiling and keeping her eyes focused on you.

She made you wait as long as she needed to as she kept just a trace of contact on your cock with her tongue, moving her hand up and down your shaft lazily to keep you at her will.

"I'm going to make you feel better than you've ever felt before," she promised, and you felt the pressure of her full lips as she planted a kiss against the very tip of your cock.

Waiting one agonizing moment Momo parted her lips with your shaft, taking you into the warmth of her mouth once more. You moaned at the feeling of Momo's soft warm lips wrapping around your cock, the deep suction in her cheeks visible as she delivered pleasure in the form of a slow blowjob, lips moving forward just enough to please.

This must have been your lucky week, the second blowjob from a different hostess, each one feeling incredible and unique in their own way. As much you loved the sloppiness of Chaeyoung, Momo's blowjobs were on a whole new level - slow and sensual and infinitely satisfying. She loved for you to savor the warmth and wetness of her mouth as she took her time in building you up, letting you feel every electrifying pulse of pleasure shooting throughout your whole body.

You felt your shaft becoming wetter as Momo bobbed her pretty head up and down, moving with care as she let you feel as much of her mouth as she wanted you to feel, no more, no less. Her soft red lips moved with ease, coating your shaft with saliva as half of it entered her warm mouth. Momo did not like to keep her hands idle and began to caress one of your thighs, keeping the other with a firm grip on your cock as more than half of you entered her delicious mouth.

"God, Momo...that feels so fucking good...."

The praise helped, even if she knew what she was doing as she swallowed up your cock, hitting each of your sensitive spots that she knew about with the intent to reciprocate the pleasure you had given her, the gentle slurping sounds of her mouth as she sucked you off and made you feel weightless.

Momo really was an expert at this, and if she had wanted you to explode right then and there she would have made you and nothing could stop her. She took you inch by inch into her mouth until you felt her warm lips resting at the very end of your base, her lust-filled eyes staring up as she delivered the perfect amount of pleasure.

"Fuck, Momo..."

She kept control over you, not letting you relax for one solitary second as she hungrily took your cock in the very depths of her mouth again, and again, feeding on your needy moans as you melted away into the comfortable couch.  

Momo used her silky soft lips and held them at the very end of your wet shaft one more time, staring into the contorting features on your face as she filled her throat with your cock for as long as she felt you could take it, keeping herself pressed against your base with zero gag reflex.

She slowly withdrew with a drawn-out slurp as she feasted on every inch of you before releasing with a loud pop, leaving a messy sheen of saliva stained on your shaft as her hands replaced the grip her lips formerly held.

Momo pumped your messy shaft as you gasped for air, delighted with the talent she had shown.

"How do you want me?" she asked as she ran her warm slick tongue across your entire shaft.

"You're supposed to take the lead, it's your choice."

"Such a gentleman. I want..." She paused, cleaning up everything your messy shaft leaked out with her talented tongue.

"I want to ride you," she boldly said, standing and straddling you once more as you felt each of her muscular legs meeting your thighs.

"Then ride me, Miss Hirai."

Momo showed her approval as she grabbed your cock, stroking it a few times before she lined it up with her entrance as you both impatiently waited for what was next.

"This is going to feel so good. For both of us, I promise."

"You're sure about this, Momo?"

"I've never been more sure about anything. I want this, and I am going to get what I want."

Momo smiled and lifted her body, using your cock to tease the wetness between her slick folds. She looked at you, waiting and testing each other's patience as she lowered herself down, and you both gasped as you entered Momo's tight pussy for the first time.

The two of you shared lustful glances, a feeling like nothing else as Momo's silky wet walls parted with your shaft, letting herself sink onto your cock inch by inch until half of you rested inside her. The warmth and wetness of her tight hole like no other as Momo's pleasure mirrored your own and you both needed more.

"You're so tight, Momo. And wet. You're drenched."

"I only have you to blame for that," she grinned as she lifted herself back up, trying to take more of your cock.

"Take your time, Momo."

She shook her head impatiently. "No, I want to feel it all. I need to feel all of your cock inside me, just like how I felt it all in my mouth."

Her eyes had a serious look of desire in them, one that you hadn't seen before. One that you hoped you would continue to see.

"You feel so good already," she moaned, her eyes closed as she savored the feeling of being stretched out little by little.

Momo relaxed her body and lifted herself up once more, and you both knew what was inevitable. When the moment was right she lowered her hips, and you felt every inch of your cock penetrating her tight slick pussy,  juices and warmth enveloping all of your shaft.

"Oh fuck..." Momo moaned as she tilted back her head with neither of your bodies moving, both of you smitten with pleasure as she took the time to adjust. She slowly moved off your cock, her slick pussy lips keeping a tight grip as you watched only the tip of your cock remaining inside.

"Fuck this stupid rule, I should have slept with you last time," she said as she held onto your shoulders and slammed back down, impaling herself to the hilt again.

"No argument there."

Momo wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you in close.

"We're going to make such a mess on this couch. It's a good thing it's leather," she giggled as she kissed you. She couldn't wait any longer as she began to move those sexy full hips, slowly riding your cock at a gingerly pace

She settled into a rhythm right away as her pussy gripped your shaft tight and refused to let go, her juices lubricating each motion with ease, those large beautiful breasts bouncing with every rock of Momo's hips.

"You feel so good inside me," Momo said.

"You feel good too. You're so beautiful, Momo," you replied as you watched the woman on top of your lap riding you, every curve on display, unable to peel your eyes off her perfect round breasts, their motion hypnotizing as they bounced in rhythm with Momo's body.

You couldn't help but fondle Momo's tits again, keeping your attention on them as you groped and played with them carelessly before using one hand and played with one of her stiff nipples, hearing her whiny moans increasing as she stepped up the pace and rode you faster, her thighs crashing against your own as you kept your hands full of her delicious chest.

"You ride me so well, Momo," you praised, but she was too far gone to respond. You let go of her breasts, content with watching them in motion as you held on to her waist, watching her features wrecked with pleasure, the sweat forming on her delicious body, and the way her pretty mouth stayed open as she delivered moans with every bounce.

Your cock was being drowned in Momo's slick juices, every inch saturated and soon you felt her wetness spilling onto your balls as her ass bounced on your crotch, keeping herself filled with every movement as the lewd slapping sounds of her filling her body with your entire cock intensified.

You felt Momo's hot breath against your ear as she whispered into it. "I love your cock so much. I don't ever want it to leave inside me. I'm going to keep riding you, and I'm not going to stop until I make you cum."

"Momo..." you moaned, and she only kept her pace faster, riding you without a care in the world

"Don't worry, it's safe. Whenever you need to cum just cum. Fill me all the way up."

Momo's lewd words only brought your arousal level all the way up as you snaked your hands around her waist and squeezed her plump round ass, still letting her do most of the work. Her hot dripping flesh clenched around your cock, and you felt her growing wetter with every bounce, moaning louder than you thought possible.

Momo kept the pace full speed, her warm thighs slapping against yours as your hands kept a firm grasp on her ass, squeezing delicate handfuls of the delicious flesh. Her pussy felt even tighter, her arms gripped tight, even more, and you both had gone long past your individual thresholds as it began to become too much to handle.

Momo spoke up first. "I-i, I'm going to cum!" she whined as she buried her face into your neck.

"Me too, Momo. You're going to make me fucking explode."

"Cum with me. Make a mess inside me, please," she begged.

It was impossible not to. With Momo's loud whiny moans in your ear, her beautiful big tits bouncing in your face and her pussy as tight as ever, it was too fucking much. You held onto her ass as she rode you wildly, only holding on long enough to let her reach climax first.

"I'm cumming!"

Momo shook violently as her walls pulsated around your cock, she squeezed your body tight as she came all over your cock, leaving a dripping mess that flooded your crotch, the intense pressure of her walls pushing you over that delicate edge from which there was no escape.

"M-momo, I-"

You groaned loudly as your cock throbbed and erupted inside Momo, filling her tight pussy with shot after shot of thick cum as you buried your cock and emptied your load deep inside her. Momo moaned as you unloaded every drop you had, and even when you both came down from your respective highs she kept you inside her cum filled pussy, your sweaty bodies pressed together and flushed in the afterglow of the act you had just performed on the expensive VIP couch.

You both looked at each other, tired, exhausted and ultimately satisfied with one enough. Momo's lips came in for one more lustful kiss before gingerly lifting herself off you, letting inch by inch release until she was no longer filled with cock but just the combined bodily fluids that slowly flowed out of her.

"You always cum so much," Momo proudly said, catching a breath, looking even more gorgeous as she was bathed in the afterglow of sex.

"You're the reason for that."

Momo grinned and lowered herself down again to clean off your cock, sucking and licking your sensitive depleted shaft and not wasting anything.

Once you were able to breathe again normally Momo broke the tired silence. "There are showers here we can use. Or..."

"Or...?"

"Or...we can shower back at my place," she smirked. "But we might be tempted to have another round if that happens."

"I guess we'll just have to take that risk."

It was a risk worth taking. The temporary shutdown of Club Mimosa meant you had the opportunity to be as selfish with Momo as you were able to. No greedy drunk businessmen to share her with for the next couple of days, and you planned to make every second of every day count.

Starting now.

[palettepainter]

*slides into the ask box* Psst, may I please request some Jeanist x Ragdoll headcannons? I think the ship is cute I want more of it

Yes you can cuz I am a sucker for opposites attract dynamics! This ship is my jam 

Some of these headcannons where discussed with my bud @hazbinextgeneration who also ships Jeanist x Ragdoll. I can’t remember who came up with what headcannon but know she helped come up with some of them. I’m really happy people are requesting headcannons cuz I do love to discuss them! I just get a little shy sometimes

WARNING: Slight spoilers to MHA in this post

-It was actually my friend who got me into this ship so credit to them for showing me it! We where discussing how the two would eventually meet since Ragdoll and Jeanist hadn’t interacted in the series at all. Again no clue who suggested this but we thought Ragdoll could become friends with Jeanist after the Kamino incident with All for One. After Kamino Jeanist lost his lung, which obviously is going to affect his stamina in his hero career. He lost his lung after he was able to pull all the other heroes out of the way of the blast set off by All for One - including Tiger and Ragdoll. Ragdoll is a little shy first meeting Jeanist, she was still sad about the loss of her quirk and that put a damper on her usually happy go lucky attitude. Jeanist is surprised at her visit but not disappointed by it, it was nice to have some company. Ragdoll thanks Jeanist for pulling Tiger and herself from the blast, to which Jeanist simply replies he was just doing his duty as a hero and there was no need for thanks. Despite that Ragdoll still felt as if she had to prove her thanks, since Jeanist has suffered the lost of his lung because of it. 

She makes her visits to the hospital daily, and Jeanist always appreciates the company of someone to talk to, it can get a little boring when you’re stuck in a recovery bed all day. Ragdoll talks about the most random things, theres no rhythm or pattern to her conversations: one minute she’s talking about the weather, the next she’s telling Jeanist all about this new cupcake she brought from the bakery. Jeanist more or less does the listening while Ragdoll does most of the talking but he prefers listening to her talk over the silence. Once Jeanist is allowed to leave the hospital Ragdoll is already waiting for him outside, which surprised him, he hadn’t expected her to come see him. Ragdoll had in fact asked one of the nurses monitoring Jeanist’s when he was going to be allowed to recover from his home, she thought it’d be nice for the two to have one last conversation while he walked home. 

When Jeanist finally reaches his front door he thanks Ragdoll for keeping him company during his time in the hospital, and the two exchange numbers - Ragdoll doing so because she wanted to make sure Jeanist knew if he ever wanted to talk to someone she was there. Jeanist thanked her and told her he’d keep the offer in mind, but he didn’t think he’d actually ever need to call her for that

-Jeanist was wrong. Missing one lung all of a sudden would be hard on anyone, and Jeanist was not immune to the struggles that came with recovery. Adjusting was harder then he thought - little things that he didn’t even notice before all of a sudden began to bother him, he became snappy and stressed, the growing curiosity from the media and public all wondering when Jeanist would make his grand return just adding more weight on his shoulders. When he finally snaps he just lays down on his sofa and cries, until he feels exhausted and empty afterwards. He didn’t even remember calling Ragdoll to come over, but when she rushes in he doesn’t refuse the hug, he doesn’t stop the tears building up in his eyes again, he doesn’t try to muffle his sobs - he just breaksdown. The next morning Jeanist wakes up late, a rarity. He wakes up sprawled under his bed sheets with hair messy and still in his clothes from yesterday. When he manages to roll out of bed he walks into his kitchen to see something unexpected: Ragdoll as humming away cooking breakfast. Ragdoll, as if cooking breakfast in his home was totally normal, rushes him off to the bathroom so he can clean up, all the while Jeanist is still confused. After he’s cleaned up and his hair is combed he returns back into the kitchen to find what had to be the most obnoxiously cute breakfast he’d seen. The food had all been arranged to make smiley and kitty faces, and there was just so much! Jeanist assures Ragdoll that she didn’t have to make him breakfast, but Ragdoll just bats her hand with a smile and tells him to eat, nothing like a good breakfast to start the day of right! (Jeanist wouldn’t lie the food was delicious) While he eats himself and Ragdoll fill the silence with conversation. Jeanist asks Ragdoll what she was doing in his home so early, and Ragdoll replies sheepishly that after his breakdown yesterday, she slept on his sofa for the night, just in case he needed someone to pick him back up if he began to cry again. Jeanist is left speechless for two minutes, and it actually took Ragdoll lightly poking him for him to blink and come back to reality. He thanks Ragdoll again for her kindness and allowing him to let out his sadness without her judging or probing him for answers, and then pulls her into another hug

-Jeanist and Ragdoll become genuine friends outside of hero work and are each others supportive figure during their recovery. Jeanist is there to listen and comfort Ragdoll when she hits a bump in the road, and the sadness from the loss of her quirk returns - and vise versa with Ragdoll, who is there for Jeanist to lean on and sit with for company when he gets overwhelmed again. Ragdoll temporarily moves into the city to be closer to Jeanist, staying at a hotel with Tiger who was also taking some time off to recover from the Kamino incident. Due to Jeanist being temporarily out of action with his injury the two can’t really go out places, but Ragdoll, being physically fine despite loosing her quirk, tries her best to bring something new to talk with with Jeanist when she goes to visit. Sometimes it would be the latest fashion magazine, and she’d have to stiffen her snickering while Jeanist critiqued the outfits. Other days she’d bring some nice food over and the two would have lunch, other times she’d bring round a movie or a book she thought Jeanist might like. One day after the two have been friends for little over half a year and Ragdoll has come over to visit Jeanist enters the lounge with two hot drinks, one for himself and Ragdoll, and Ragdoll replies with a merry ‘Thanks Jeany!’ - Jeanist paused for a moment, processing the nickname. He’d never really been fond of using nicknames, he thought it wasn’t very professional for a grown man like himself to give others nicknames. Ragdoll catches the confused yet thoughtful look in his eye that isn’t covered by his fringe and asks if she overstepped things, Jeanist takes another moment to think..before shaking his head, saying it’s fine, for some reason Jeanist doesn’t seem to mind nicknames when it’s Ragdoll who’s using them.

-Lets all admit it Jeanist has fangirls, come on, with his looks he’s gotta have a couple douzand at least. With hero work, personal life and media Jeanist has never really had time to persue a propper relationship. He’s had relationships in the past during his early hero days, but with hero work and his gradual rising to the top ten his relationships often ended, which he understood - but he still felt a little bit lonely. Jeanist never even considered Ragdoll as a lover until he heard her laugh. Ragdoll had decided the two should try baking, it was something new to try and it would keep them entertained! Jeanist had done baking before so agreed without much persuasion. They ended up making a cake, which Jeanist didn’t do very often on the count he wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets, but he had Ragdoll as a baking assistant so eventually, they’d end up baking a cake. Ragdoll on the whole, despite being a hero, could be pretty oblivious as Jeanist learnt: as when it came to mixing in the flour with the mixer Jeanist stopped her, he went on a bit of a rant saying how her hair could get caught and then tangle up in the machine, all the while Ragdoll is trying to tell him not to turn on the mixer but..she was too late. Jeanist turned around, switched on the mixer, and the flour went right in his face. Ragdoll had been trying to turn down the mixing speed so the flour wouldn’t go anywhere. Jeanist, face, jumper, and apron covered in flour he blinks..and then lets out a single sneeze, before Ragdoll absolutely looses it.

Jeanist tries to be angry with her, saying that it wasn’t funny, but Ragdoll just couldn’t take him seriously in that moment. Jeanist rolls his eyes, accepting defeat as he reaches for a tea towel to wipe his face - and then Ragdoll giggle snorts. It’s the most dorkiest dorky sound he’s ever heard

Basically Jeanist had an ‘omg I’m in love’ moment while covered in flour standing blankly in the middle of his messy kitchen

-Their relationship became offical after everyone thought Hawks killed Jeanist and he returned. Jeanist is not prepared when a sobbing Ragdoll launches herself at him, actually knocking them both over. Ragdoll is gross sobbing into his chest telling him to never EVER scare her like that again you big idiot! Jeanist, exhausted from battle, can only sigh and weakly hug her back while softly apologizing. Once again Ragdoll is at his side during his recovery after the battle, noticeably more clingy and fretting. It took much reassurance from Jeanist but Ragdoll began to chill out a bit. Jeanist was the one who confessed first the day after he was let out from hospital, and Ragdoll once again, throws herself at him in a hug. They end up in a pile on his floor laughing, and then Ragdoll is the one who makes the first move and gives his cheek (whatever cheek is visible behind his high collar jumper) a kiss. It wasn’t Jeanist’s most graceful moment - laying there on his floor red faced and wide eyed, totally shocked at the fact Ragdoll just KISSED him as his brain rebooted. The damned little giggles and snickers cause the red in his face to deepen before he returns the kiss.

The two move in together in the city though Ragdoll still keeps in contact with Mandalay, Pixie and Tiger. Tiger and Mandalay are happy that Ragdoll found herself someone while Pixiebob took a little longer to come around. Jeanist and Ragdoll did their best to keep their relationship out of the public eye as much as possible, however when kids came around that became almost impossible. Ragdoll and Jeanist have three kids: Ito (my OC), Koneko (my OC) and a daughter named Shiruku (my pals OC). Shiruku and Koneko both go to UA while Ito is a model/undercover hero. Regardless that the media know of his relationship with Ragdoll Jeanist still does his best to keep his love life private, mostly for safety reasons as he doesn’t want any villain going after Ragdoll to get to him. To help with this Ragdoll took some self defence classes and still continues to do so to make sure she stays in shape. Ragdoll is much stronger then she looks even without her quirk.

-Their wedding was traditional yet fancy, Jeanist wanted the wedding to be special so pulled out all the stops to make sure it was memorable. Ragdoll, to no surprised, wanted to have some cat kind of theme to the wedding for kicks and giggles, Jeanist wasn’t sure of this idea at first but the two compromised and got a cat themed wedding cake. Jeanist agrees it was a good idea in the end just to see the child like joy in Ragdoll’s eyes when he and her cut the cake. Tiger, despite looking intimidating, was so so supportive and totally cried at the wedding. Him and Ragdoll have a sibling like bond, and Jeanist was very relieved to know Tiger supported their relationship. Mandalay, being the mum friend of the group, also cried at the wedding and like Tiger was very supportive and congratulating of Ragdoll and Jeanist. Pixie was..eh, fifty fifty. I headcannon Pixiebob as the protective sibling like friend, when she first found out Ragdoll and Jeanist where dating she straight up asked ‘What are your intentions with my team mate you denim wearing dunce?’ - to which Mandalay then forced Pixie to apologize. By the time the wedding came around Pixie was genuinely happy for Ragdoll but a small part of her was still unsure. She’s happy for Jeanist and Ragdoll now days, but has promised that if Jeanist breaks lil old Ragdoll’s heart she’ll break him like a twig - to which again Mandalay made her apologize and told Jeanist she was joking (she wasn’t)

-Not really a ship related one but I’ll put it here anyway. In my NGAU I headcannon Gang Orca and Jeanist as best friends. They went to school together and their friendship just stuck. Orca despite not having many relationships even in his highschool years very quickly picked up on Jeanist’s attraction towards Ragdoll before he did, but he never commented on it until the day Jeanist called him to admit he might have like Ragdoll romantically - to which Orca replied he had known for a long time. Their conversation went like this basically

Jeanist: Kugo, I..I think I may be attracted to Ragdoll

Gang Orca: I know Jeanist

Jeanist: What do you think I-...Wait, what do you mean you know?!

Gang Orca: I’m not blind 

-Again not exactly ship related but whatever I’m putting it here too. Jeanist was on board with having kids, having a little family, call it a domestic daydream. Jeanist assumed any child of his would have his impeccable taste in fashion and glorious silky hair. He was only half right.

Ito (my OC), Jeanist’s and Ragdoll’s first born son does have the natural Hakamada silky hair and good looks..but he’s a total slob outside of modelling. When Ito comes to visit since he no longer lives at home he dresses like a teenager. He walks about the home in just sweat pants sometimes, his hair not brushed and not washed. Ragdoll is all chill with this because she likes to baby her kids, and despite looking like a slob Ito does still clean up any mess he makes in his parents home. Jeanist has had to more then once restrain Ito so he can comb that messy hair of his, and Ito gave up years ago trying to escape. He’ll enter the lounge wearing baggy pj’s, sit down and have a coffee, and then greet his dad who’s already scowling at his messy hair while he drags a comb through it. Ito sometimes pokes fun at his old man but Jeanist does not stand for such behavior in his house, and Ito quickly learns that when Jeanist threatens to give him a hair cut.

Their second son Koneko (my OC) is much more like Ragdoll and, to Jeanist’s relief, doesn’t wear dirty sweatpants around the home. He too also has the natural silky Hakamada hair, but Koneko’s hair is always tricky to style. Everytime Jeanist combs it all neat and tidy, it poofs back into it’s natural curly messy state. It drives Jeanist crazy- 

-I remember seeing a post about this ages ago, I’ll see if I can find the post, but Bakugo was Koneko’s sort of babysitter when he was little. Bakugo now that he’s older begrudgingly admits that yeah, maybe as a kid he diiiid have some temper issues, and that maybe - just maybe - Jeanist was a good mentor after all. Bakugo didn’t know how he ended up roped into babysitting, but he was. The day he actually began to enjoy babysitting was the day he taught Jeanist’s kid to say die, it amused him for weeks, Jeanist not so much. Koneko ends up idolizing Bakugo, and Bakugo still being a smug b*stard totally rubs it in Jeanist’s face that his kid idolizes him. Jeanist doesn’t mind his son being a fan of Bakugo but he’s got a sharp eye on them