#any which way i set them to be my defense team. so maybe if anyone encounters me in arena | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devskindawritingblog · 5 months ago

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Heey, I was wondering if you could write a Natalie x rich!reader who loves to spoil Nat, and she doesn't know what to do with all that attention.

Like, they're at a record store where they usually hang out, but this time is different cause they're finally together, so r says that Natalie could get whatever she wanted and that r would pay for it and Nat doesn't know how to react, maybe getting a little defensive

Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

And I love her

Natalie scatorccio x reader

AN: I tried to do a song title, but I don’t know any like nirvana songs. So I picked one that I felt kind of went with the vibe. Please don’t come for me nirvana fans 😂😂😅😅. This request sounded much like @yameoto Natalie bot. So I want to make sure I say that here. This is my own fic but I’m like 99% sure it’s based of her bot. But please check her bots out, they are great.

word count rounded: 3.4K

divider from @strangergraphics-archive

You and Nat have been together for a while now. You knew about her shitty family life and how she grew up. Everything Natalie got she worked for, she saved up for a while just to buy herself that leather jacket. But you grew up on the opposite side of the spectrum. Growing up on the other side of town, your parents were rich. Big house, lots of money; parents made six figures. You basically got anything anytime you wanted. It was a pretty lonely childhood. Your parents were also off on business and out of town most of the time.

So you spent a lot of time with Lottie, having lived in the same neighborhood. So when she joined the soccer team at the start of ninth grade, you joined with her. From there, you and Natalie became friends. At first, she didn't like you, but Nat never liked anyone at all. She thought you were annoying and a brat. You got everything you wanted, and she was jealous, and she knew it. She never thought you’d be nice.

One day, you invited the Yellowjackets team over to your house. Nat would never be caught dead at your sleepover, but she was curious about your home and, deep down, wanted to be close to you. She caught a ride with Van, as they lived close to each other. As Van pulls up to your house, Nat stares up at your house, raising an eyebrow at Van. ”Rich people, man,” Nat scoffs as Van shuts off the car, and they both get out, heading toward the house.

Before Natalie could even knock, you swung open the door, already dressed in your pajamas. “Hey guys! Come in! Come in!” You usher them in before Van or Nat can even greet you. The other girls are in your bedroom getting set up for movie night. Natalie walks through your hallway, trailing behind you. She glances at old family photos of you when you were little. She tries not to notice that she smiles at an old photo of you as a toddler.

She enters your bedroom after you as she feels the soft carpet underneath her feet. She walks in, taking it to your bedroom. It's much bigger than any room in her house. The girls are laid across your bed, and some are on beanbags on the floor.

She makes her way over to the end of your bed and notices a record player sitting on a table. She scoots closer, silently admiring it. She breaks out of her trance when Taissa throws a pillow at her. She whips around, scoffing dramatically and flipping her off. She positions herself at the end of your bed, focusing back on the girls trying to pick the movie, but every so often she finds herself staring at the record player.

You move over while also sitting on the end of your bed as Shauna and Van argue over which movie is “the best." “You like it?” you ask, nudging Natalie's shoulder.

“What? ” Natalia snaps out of her trance again to look over at her. “My record player. It was a gift from my last birthday. Do you like records?” You ask, staring at her as Natalie tries to process. “Uh, well yeah, I just don’t really have that much.” She trails off, avoiding your eyes. You understand what she means.

People gossip all the time about how Natalie lives in a “dump” and how much of a “whore” she is. You knew she had it hard, but the girl that they were describing was nothing like the one sitting in front of you.

You ended up dropping it and watching the movie with the girls.

As the girls all filed out the next day, you noticed Natalie was still admiring your record player. You walk over again, tapping her on the shoulder. She jumps, clearly not hearing you approaching.

“Hey, you have a record player, right?” You ask as Natalie shifts, still embarrassed that she was caught again. “Uh.. yeah. Old thing. It used to be my grandpa's, but he’s gone, so he let me have it.” Natalie replies a little awkwardly. "Oh, I'm so sorry.” You respond sympathetically. “No, it's alright. I didn’t really see him often when I was little.” Nat responds, trailing off, still awkward.

“What albums do you have?” you ask excitedly as you sit down on your bed next to her. “Uh, well, it's mostly my dad's old ones. I have Guns & Roses and Metallica. And my grandpa had an Elvis Presley one.” She states, naming them off. “Nice, I’m kind of a music "freak,” so to speak. I go to the record shop at least once a month. I don’t always buy new records, but I love to look at them. Wanna check out my collection?” You basically jump off your bed, grab her hand, and drag her over to your bookshelf. Natalies smiles a little, never having seen someone so excited to show her vinyls.

“OK! So obviously, Madonna, AC/DC, Kate Bush, and Stevie Nicks I was so excited to get this one. Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson, and The Smashing Pumpkins as well. Ooh! Nirvana, the Cranberries. You go on and on, showing her your extensive collection. She wants to be annoyed, but deep down, she knows it’s pretty cool.

“You have Nirvana. That’s so cool. I wish I could get their albums.” Natalie says it mostly to herself. “You want to barrow?” You ask, holding it out for her to take. Natalie locks eyes with you and is almost confused by the fact that you're not a bitch to her. “Wha-t? No. No, I couldn't; it's your record.” She says she is pushing her hand out. “It’s one of my least favourites anyway. I’m not going to miss it; I have so many Nat.” You insist on putting it in her hand.

After much convincing, Natalie takes it home. She listens to it and couldn’t possibly be happier. She brings it back to you at school because you share an English class. “So what did you think?“ you ask, smiling. “Really good; I love it.” She smiles back, and that’s the first time you’ve seen Natalie Scatorccio smile, let alone look at you at school.

“Why don’t you keep it then? Gotta be honest, I’ve only listened to it once.” You say, passing it back. “ uh…. It’s alright, really. I don’t need it.” She replies awkwardly again. “Okay, Nat. I’m going to ask you a question and just answer with yes or no.” You say, and she narrows her eyebrows but sighs and nods.

“Do you like the album?”

“Yes”

“Did you have a good time listening to it?”

“Yes”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“Well………kinda…..” She replies, slowing down her words, and you raise your eyebrows before she sighs and gives in. “Fine, Yes.” She replies, trying not to sound too excited. “Yay!! It's going to go to a great, loving parent.” You smile, giggling at your own joke.

After that moment, you and Natalie Scatroccio became so close. It really shocked both of you and the whole school. The whispers and rumours didn’t bother you. You now have someone to talk about music with and share yours with. You began hanging out at the record store together almost once a week. Digging through the albums and talking for hours about music. Sometimes you would buy something, but Natalie would never.

She wouldn't express it, but money was really tight lately, and she didn't have the type of money to spend on a new record. Her dad would also get mad at her for “wasting” her money. She already has three records. How many more could she need? Mostly, her dad didn’t like seeing her happy, and he craved control. So she would mostly follow you around; you picked them out, and if asked, she would make something up at first. After spending crazy amounts of time together, you picked up on things. You never went over to her house; you never met her parents or even learned about them.

But you also picked up on her favourite songs and artists. Her likes and dislikes. She was such a closed-off person, and you wanted to learn everything you could about her. You found out her birthday and her favourite foods. After hanging out with her as friends for months on end, you developed feelings. And unbeknownst to you, she did as well, not that she would admit it to a single soul.

You decided to just go for it. You invited Natalie over under disguise to show her your “new record." She was a little suspicious because anytime you went to the record store, it was with Natalie. But still, she shrugged it off. She had grown fond of you, and much more than that. She comes over and lets herself in, seeing that your parents are away again. She heads up for you calling out to tell you that she is over. When you don’t respond, she furrows her brow, calling out again before she makes it to your bedroom and opens the door.

She finds you wearing one of your favourite outfits, quickly whips around, and hides something behind your back. “Hey!! Nat, you’re here!!” You say it overly enthusiastically. She can’t help but laugh at your inability to play it cool, but she decides not to press you about it. You smile a little too wide and hide whatever you have under a blanket. “Come in! Come in!” You say, shutting your door and pulling her so she is sitting next to you on your bed. “Hi, are you good?: she asks, smiling at your eagerness.

“Me? Yeah, wonderful, so great.” You respond a little too quickly. "Soo, what's the new record you got?” Natalie inquiries. “What?” You respond, your face twisted into confusion. “OH! Right! Uh, that was a lie.” You decided not to lie to her this time and just ripped off the bandage.

“Well, the truth is... I don’t have a new record. I haven’t been there since our last hangout. But I knew it would get you over here. The thing is, I have been thinking about us recently. I love hanging out with you; you’re one of my best friends. But I don’t just want to be your friend. When I hang out with you, I never want it to end. You just kind of get me, and you love what I love. I guess what I'm saying is that I like you a lot." You confess, finally making eye contact with her, trying to read her expression. You reach behind you and pass her another Nirvana album with a cute little handwritten letter.

You find her staring back at you, her expression extremely unreadable. Her face is twisted into confusion, as you can see her thinking intensely. “Really?” Natalie finally asks quietly, almost worried about saying it too loud for fear of you making fun of her.

“Yeah! You think I insisted on giving you my record because I wanted to just be friends? I want to be your girlfriend, Nat." You proclaim, grabbing her hands and smiling. You see her face light up and smile back. “I want to be your girlfriend too!”. She admits, and you smile, tackling her in a hug on your bed. She yelps in surprise as you giggle. She lands on her back, and you hover over top of her.

She looks up at you, placing her hands on your hips before looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”. She asks as you smile and nod. She pulls you down, capturing your lips in a kiss. She rolls over, and you laugh as she hovers over you now, pulling you back into the kiss. You both spend the rest of the night cuddling in bed and listening to music together.

It's now been over a year since you asked her to be your girlfriend. It was a Saturday morning. You slowly woke up to the soft glow of the sun through your white curtains. You tried to rub your eyes, but Natalie was cuddled up to you, her arms locked around your arms, which were by your side. You smile softly, tugging an arm free to fix your hair and rub your eye of sleep.

You smile, reaching up to run your fingers through her freshly blonde, messy hair. You lean closer to give her a kiss on the nose, giggling to yourself as her nose scrunches up. She blinks awake and groans, burying her face in yours. “Babe”. She whines, “Your blinds don’t do anything." She rewraps her arms around you, holding you as close as she can. “I like them, Natty; it’s nice and bright in here. It helps wake me up." You say, kissing her forehead and tracing your fingers down her spine.

“If you needed help waking up, I'm sure I could help you with that." She smirks, pulling her head out of your chest. Her eyes finally adjusted to the light. You roll your eyes and giggle, "Uh, huh, and how are you going to do that, babe?”. You smirk, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I can think of a few ideas...”. She trails off before you feel her hand sneak under your pyjama shirt. She places her hands on your hips and pulls you into a heated kiss. You wrap your arms around her neck as she kisses you deeply. She pulls back after a few minutes before she finds her way to your neck.

You glance over at the time and almost push Natalie off, trying to sit up. She whines and pushes you back onto your pillow. “Baby, come on. It’s Saturday”. Natalie whines into your neck as you giggle at how whiney she is when you interpret your guys' make-out time. “I have a surprise, Natty. Fine, one more kiss." You give in as Natalie makes out with you again. She finally pulls away and sits up, getting off the bed with you as both of you get ready.

It was your one-year anniversary, and you both have been talking about what you want to do. You told Natalie that you didn’t need anything for it because she was already enough. But unbeknownst to you, she saved up a bit to buy you a CD. She wanted to buy you a walkman, but they were way too expensive. She understood why she was never able to get on when she was younger, even now.

"Baby, I have a gift for you.” Natalie says, smiling shyly as she pulls out a CD in the case with a cute pink ribbon tied around it in a bow. "Awwww, babe, you didn’t need to get me anything. Today is already perfect because of you.” You smile, but take it from her, pulling her into a hug and a soft kiss as she wraps her arms around your waist.

“I saved up a bit; I wanted to do something nice for our anniversary. And we both love our music." She smiles, proud of herself that you liked it. You both pull back, but you pull her back into another kiss.

“I have a little surprise for you, but it's not here right now. It's more of an activity; get ready, then we can go." You say, pulling her into a little kiss and smirking. The both of you got ready and took your car to the record store. As you pull up, Natalie grabs your other hand, smiling. “Our hangout spot?”. You nod and kiss her cheek, shutting off your car and holding Natalie's hand as you walk in.

You enter the shop together, and you both walk around looking at all the records together. Natalie eyes up a certain album—the first album you gave her. She cherished it; it was so special to her. Before her dad died, he came home drunk out of his mind, and when he heard Natalie’s music coming from her room, he went in there and broke it. She went over to your house and stayed over for a few nights. She apologized to no end, and you comforted her all night before she fell asleep and cuddled with you.

Same with the day her father died. You went over to her house for the first time because Natalie wanted to show you her mixtape, and that's when it happened. He came home early and shoved you out of her house. You didn’t want to leave her, but you didn't have a choice. You called her house phone every hour, praying and stressing about her. You ended up finally throwing on a sweater and heading to your front door.

You swing it open and find Natalie, her eyeliner smudged and running. Her face was speckled with blood. You were in shock and pulled her into your house, bringing her to your bathroom and wiping the blood off her face. She didn't say anything the whole time; she was visibly shaking. You brought her back into your room and let her cuddle with you.

She told you everything after an hour. It all just came out at once. She broke down, talking about how it's her fault and how you should hate her. You, of course, didn’t hate her. The first time you met her dad was that day, and you already knew you didn't like him. You reassured her until she cried herself to sleep in your arms.

After that, you knew she couldn't live like that, so you offered her to stay with you. She was reluctant at first, but she also wasn't super excited to go live alone with her mom. So in the end, she decided she would stay with you. Having your girlfriend with you every day was great, and knowing she was safe was another layer of happiness.

As you watched Natalie stare at the album that started all of this, you went over, wrapped your arms around her waist, and kissed her on the cheek. You knew about what her dad did to the last album and knew it would be a great gift. “That's my gift to you, baby; I'm going to buy you the album." You say, "Smiling." "Awwww, babe, that's so sweet. I know you're sentimental, but that's adorable.”

She grabs the album and turns around, giving you a little kiss. "Oh, and the second part: Do you want anything else? I'll buy you whatever albums you want for today." You say as you take the album from Nat, holding it for her.

“What? Babe, come on. I don’t even need the first album.” she counters

“It's our anniversary; you bought me a CD. I get to spoil you. We are not going to argue about this because I am not leaving her until you let me buy them." You say back, insisting.

“You already got me a place to stay, and I don't deserve this." She says she is getting a bit defensive.

You stop stepping closer and hugging her. “You deserve the world, Nat. I want to spoil you, and I won’t take no for an answer." You pulled back, looking into her eyes, not relenting until she sighed, and you smiled in triumph, giggling excitedly.

She walks around the shop at a slow pace. She was still reluctant to pick out albums. But you ended the day with six new records. It took even longer to convince her because after every one she picked out, she tried to talk you out of it. You doubled down, and she knew you wouldn't give up.

You both returned home and cuddled in your bed while listening to her new records together. She thanked you more, and you again told her that she was worth it. She told you she would do something better on our next anniversary. But you told her she didn't need to. Being your girlfriend was already enough for you. You didn’t need things to know how much she loved you, and neither did Natalie, but new records are pretty good.

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #Natalie scatorccio

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cementcornfield · 4 days ago

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The flaws in the team - is this fixable in one offseason?

I’m worried they’re gonna see how close some games were and talk themselves out of making necessary changes 😕

god. i have no idea. the thing is that the bengals have always had this reputation, and it's a fair one for the most part. but as a new fan, i've only been experiencing these good years. (became aware of them during the super bowl, really got into them the next season. luckily became a fan right around when they went on a 10 game win streak so like, i wasn't aware this team DID lose?? and now look at me.)

i think, if you want to be Fair, the front office and organization HAVE been making changes. selling the stadium naming rights, making an in-season trade, paying joe the most guaranteed money they've ever paid, these are all steps in the right direction. but you can also fairly point out that a lot of this is way too little too late. they are far far behind the way most other front offices are run, and we're seeing the consequences of that.

i hope that progress keeps being made. i hope they see what they have in joe and ja'marr after this insane season, and see how they've let them down. i think joe (and certainly ja'marr lol) is the type to speak his mind when he sees something he's not happy about. i'm not sure how much power or sway he does have in the organization, but i imagine it's more than pretty much any player they've had til this point. and i can only hope they listen to him!! (without him having to threaten a trade, which i wouldn't blame him for. but i don't think it's come to that quite yet.)

in terms of what changes they could reasonably make this offseason, i think we need to (ONCE AGAIN) focus on drafting and signing defensive talent. it sucks because oh my god we've dedicated so many resources to that the last few years, but we just keep missing (and of course letting the actual proven talent go, assuming we can replace and it turns out we can't!) and then when you think about how high-potential players haven't developed, you do have to look at coaching. lou has been incredible for us scheme-wise the last few years. he is one of the few DCs who has proven he can consistently limit patrick mahomes, josh allen, and even lamar sometimes (less so this year lol). but! when you take away his top talent, he's not able to reproduce these results reliably. which i mean, that's a hard ask for anyone, but it's his job to work with the tools given, and two years in a row now he's proven that he can't set up the players he has currently on the roster for success. so the answer might be in replacing him? or at the very least, keep him for his scheming creativity but maybe replace position coaches? who actually work with and develop the guys every day?

i still think zac's job is safe. and i know i'm in the minority when i say i'm mostly okay with that. when you look at this team's problems, and what they've been able to do on offense this year despite key injuries, i still think that's impressive. and obviously you can attribute some of that to joe's ability to improvise, but i think when you look at the game plans recently, they've been pretty good overall. zac definitely still has trouble with deciding on when to be aggressive, and sometimes he gets too cute with shit, but i really don't think he's this team's biggest problem, and i think joe is still very much on his side. if that changes though, then yeah, i'd think zac's seat could get pretty hot.

oh i do think we need to get rid of frank though. our o-line is better at pass protection this year, especially when orlando is in and having one of his best years statistically. and i get that when we have joe at qb, we're always going to prioritize passing, that's fine. but i'm pretty sure we're dead last in run blocking. which is a shame because chase brown has shown he can be pretty special! but we need to give him SOMETHING to work with on these runs. and given that frank is the o-line AND run coordinator, it's pretty evident that he's the problem there. so maybe the team gets rid of him? hopefully?

i dunno, this has become a whole rant but these are just some of the things that i think could happen? and maybe if they do, we'll be in better shape next year to get things figured out. i'm excited to watch our young guys this season, see what we have in them. because they could definitely be the key to success next season!

#can the front office fix everything in one offseason? they could get pretty close if they were willing to spend $$$$#but of course they aren't #so we'll just have to see if they adjust their conventional strategies AT ALL to give us ANYTHING!!#and hope for the best #they did go out and get joe a great defense in the 21 free agency #trey bj dj mike hilton #they were all considered mid level guys. and we gave them mid level contracts #and through sheer luck they all turned out to play above the value free agency had on them #we gotta hope we can get that to happen again because that worked out SO well for us #and i imagine that's what the FO is banking on. because they don't wanna spend all their money on one player. they're far too risk averse #i'm sure they're already fuming about overpaying for rankins this offseason #also disclaimer that i barely know what i'm talking about here!

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chirpingfromthebox · 6 months ago

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My favorite bits from Boston's post-game press interviews after PWHL Finals Game 3

You can find the entire video here! Be sure to give them some views/likes/nice comments, because her channel is great and the support helps more people find it.

At the table were Megan Keller, Hilary Knight, and coach Courtney Kessel.

Technically, my title here is a lie. Usually I just pick my favorite parts, but this is just all of them, because they only asked 4 questions. The whole video is only about 3 minutes long. It could be that the reporters just didn't have anything more to ask given the circumstances, or it could be that they were picking up the STRONG vibes that the Boston crew very much did not want to be there.

Hilary Knight especially looks like she would throw hands at anyone who asked an impertinent question.

Transcriptions under the break.

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REPORTER: For any of you guys, given everything you have done this season so far to get to this point, what are the emotions to keep it alive for one more game?

COURTNEY KESSEL: Two more games.

REPORTER: Sorry! Two more games- one more win at least.

[for context, from the way it sounded I do believe this slip-up from the reporter was a legitimate mistake of phrasing and not a dig at Boston.]

MEGAN KELLER: I mean, I think all year long it’s been a journey for this team. We’re used to having to fight for everything. For every inch. Playoffs, this finals, it’s a series. So we have to find a way to turn the page here and learn from this game. We’ve got two more games coming up.

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REPORTER: For Courtney, how would you describe—or for a player—just how difficult it was to get any shots net in the early goings of that second period?

COURTNEY KESSEL: I think Minnesota’s done a great job of setting up a trap after they score. They’ve done it in all three games. We’ve gotta find a way to beat it, to get pucks in with possession and not chase the game.

R: Maybe I’ll follow up, for Hilary, what do you think the forwards can do to get a little more space or generate more with what they’re giving you?

HILARY KNIGHT: I’d say that a lot of our forechecks are broken. So it’s just that second quick support and making sure that we’re placing pucks in a position to help us play into our speed that we have. We have a handful of talented players, so just having that disconnect has really bit us tonight.

[if you only watch one part of the video watch this one. To quote @hockeyisforwomen: “Knight is absolutely steaming.” I can't properly describe to you the levels to which she appears to be fighting to keep her cool. You can see it the whole interview, but here it's on full display.

Also note that she's been tapping her pointer finger the whole session, but by the end of the session she's switched to her middle finger. Just a coincidence? Or a message to the press? You be the judge!]

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REPORTER: For Megan, how much life did you guys get from Alina’s goal there at the very end of the second period? Breaking the long shutout streak. Getting you on the board with just a few seconds left in a tight game.

MEGAN KELLER: Yeah, I think that gave this team a lot of life. You know, it’s fun scoring goals. Especially under two seconds. That’s happened quite a few times here. I think going into the third it definitely gave us some life. And just a few defensive breakdowns at the end there that kinda cost us.

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REPORTER: For Courtney, what’s you message, kinda, turning that page and pushing, getting ready for another one so quickly turnaround in this series?

COURTNEY KESSEL: I feel like our backs have been up against the wall for quite some time. We were down 5 points heading into that World’s break. I think the run we went on to get us where we’re at is something to- it’s an accomplishment for sure. So we know what it’s like to fight back and we’re going to continue to fight.

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[End of Interview]

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What I got from these interviews is that this loss seems to have really rattled Boston. They are either about to crack under the pressure or they're about to go absolute beast-mode on Sunday.

Personally, I'm hoping for the latter. As much as I want Minnesota to win it all, I love the Boston team. They've struggled a bit this season, but when Boston brings the heat? My gods, they bring the fire! And there's nothing better than best-on-best. If they can turn this loss into fuel for the game on Sunday the way they've been doing ever since the world's break? Oh my friends, it'll be epic.

#pwhl #pwhl boston #megan keller #hilary knight #courtney kessel #pwhl transcriptions

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facetsofthecloset · 1 year ago

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15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Was tagged by @meteor--shards, but tumblr tumblred and didn’t notify me at all! I just happened to see the post while scrolling luckily lol

(idk why this keeps happening even when people tag my main blog. should probably contact support about that >_>)

Were you named after anyone?

Yes, my first name came from my dad’s tai chi teacher’s wife. Which sounds like a weird random connection, but they were practically his second set of parents so, yeah.

When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday. This morning? idk man i’m on an emergency trip back home at my parent’s place for mental health reasons i am not at my most resilient rn

Do you have kids?

As in actual kids I birthed myself, hell fucking no, but considering the age gap between me and my brothers I half-consider them my own kids in some ways.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Why no, never. Not at all. Not even the tiniest slightest bit. Perish the thought.

[^i’m lying for the bit] What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Uhh, never really thought about it, but if we’re meeting in person, probably their height?? Just because most people are taller than me so the first thing I have to do is crane my neck lol

If we’re talking about online, I only ever use tumblr, so probably their tags

What’s your eye color?

Brown. Pretty much black though.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, usually, because for a long time I was too wimpy for any kind of horror. In recent years I’ve really started getting into it but I still tend to go to media for happy endings because real life generates enough horror for me most days MY GOD what is happening with the chickens!?!

Sorry our flock of chicks was being really loud just now because one got separated by a thin concrete wall that was very echo-y lol (they’re fine now)

Any special talents?

Eh, dunno about that. My party trick used to be leaning over backwards really low (think, like, for playing limbo or Matrix bullet-dodging) without falling over or touching the ground, but the pandemic nuked my stamina and all physical ability, so I’ve just been in mild but constant pain for the past year or so.

I guess I’m decently quick at picking up the very basics of new creative mediums (paints or embroidery or whatever), maybe that counts.

Where were you born?

Japan. Oh dear that chick got separated again hang on

nvm it was a second chick that got separated earlier as well and was hanging around the kitchen door, which was why it was so loud. It’s fine and much quieter now.

What are your hobbies?

Writing and drawing mainly, but I’m the kind of person who has five million hobbies because I need to rotate between them to keep myself interested. So auxiliary hobbies include costume making (covers a lot of different hobbies honestly), swimming (in the ocean. and not like, proper forms and all that. just being in the water basically), parkour (can’t at present for physical condition), roller/ice skating (once again, not atm), started woodcarving the other day (kinda falls under costume making because i’m trying to make a wizard staff lol) and whatever else I feel like taking a stab at for one day and then maybe never again (I should try fencing. maybe when my back isn’t in constant pain)

Have any pets?

At my parent’s place, there’s a cat, a dog (both fairly elderly), bunch of half-wild chickens, various fish, and a tortoise (the kind that get big). Don’t keep any pets at my place because I travel back and forth too much and it wouldn’t work logistically.

What sports do you play/have you played?

Like on an official team/club? None, aside from parkour briefly. Otherwise it’s stuff I mentioned in hobbies that I learned either on my own or had a friend casually give me tips or something. My parents have been teaching me tai chi on and off through the years? Does that count it’s a martial art isn’t it I mean

How tall are you?

5′2″ is what I tell people. Technically I’m just a hair too short for that but it sounds defensive to say 5′1.8″ when I don’t actually care that much lol

Favorite subject in school?

Art, enjoyed the marine biology course I got to take in hs. Was good at English but never loved the way any of my teachers taught it. Technically my hs history class was my favorite but that was bc of the teacher and not the subject matter.

Dream job?

I’ve always wanted to be a fantasy writer, but I figure that can be a long term goal. For now, for a job that would sustain me? I would LOVE to be involved in theater costuming or even just grunt work in a production company. Something creative and silly. I’m considering applying to work at Tokyo Disneyland despite grievances with the company overall just because being in a themed environment every day and getting to see “behind the scenes” does sound fun. Even though I’m sure the work culture is probably horrible. idk something to do with costumes or practical effects would be amazing.

I also love bugs and animals but I have a harder time visualizing myself working in related fields there

I don’t have 15 active mutuals, but: @mariegoos, @vonlipvig, or anyone else who wants to play, feel free! No pressure tho

Thanks for the tag! It was fun :)

#tag games #fun #i'm sorry if this post winds up posting five thousand times or as doubles or something #tumblr is having a normal one #meteor i feel like we have a lot in common but a little to the left lol #in a good way #thanks again for the tag

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sam-keeper · 1 year ago

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Part 2 of my series on fantasy classics is live on my Patreon!

Here's a free preview, about how every generation rediscovers WH Hodgson's The Night Land and goes "oh man, this is *almost perfect*, I bet if I just rewrote it a liiiittle bit it'd be GREAT"

Because I spend a lot of time alone and have spent a lot of my life alienated and isolated, I tend to think of archive diving and recovering the past in terms of individual enrichment. I almost forget sometimes that there might be an audience for this stuff, that anyone could possibly care. Sometimes though I connect another person to some aspect of their own relationships and history. Making some connection with a friend, and her family and history, and the history of this game that influenced so many of us, and so on, that's valuable insofar as our relationships with other people are valuable.

And sometimes it can be individually enriching in unexpected ways. Like, in reading over these articles again I made a very funny discovery: everyone has the same reaction I had to The Night Land, William Hope Hodgson's post-Eldritch Apocalypse epic. Specifically, a host of writers and editors down the ages have looked at this book and thought, "oh man this is [sucks teeth] this is almost so good, if I could just... tweak it a little bit...".

In fact, a lot of the article on The Night Land is devoted to a rather crabbish defense of Hodgson's weirder writing choices, choices leading to sentences like, "And some shall read and say this was not, and some shall dispute with them; but to them all I say naught, save "Read!" And having read that which I set down, then shall one and all have looked towards Eternity with me -- aye, unto its very portals. And so to my telling." Chewy stuff. Stuff that apparently even HP Lovecraft found a bit much, which seems to exasperate Rateliff to no end given Lovecraft's "own bizarre idiosyncratic vocabulary (including "eldritch," "squamous," and "rugose," to name only a few, occasionally with New England rural dialect and 18th century orthography thrown in)".

Moreover both Lovecraft and of all people CS Lewis criticize the story for its central narrative: a love story. The Night Land is the story of a couple of lovers (maybe from the Tudor era, Rateliff speculates), separated tragically by death, but granted the possibility of reunion in the protagonist's vision of a distant future. In that future, the sun has been snuffed and the land teams with all manner of horrors. It is, Rateliff succinctly suggests, a vision of the future only hinted at in Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos, one where the Elder Gods plunge the world into nightmare. The last remnants of humanity huddle in two great pyramid redoubts. Our protagonist is reincarnated into one pyramid... and his lover is reincarnated into the other. When the other pyramid is breached by the horrors of the night, he has to brave the dark and its terrors to reach her.

I think this hook is electrifyingly brilliant. CS Lewis dismisses it as a "sentimental and irrelevant erotic interest". Well, can't please 'em all. Or any of them in fact. Everyone seems to have some complaint about the Night Land, and apparently editor and writer Lin Carter even published a version that cuts about a tenth of the book--mostly, romantic elements. Hodgson himself put together an excerpted novella--The Story of X--that purported to be fragments discovered of a lost longer narrative, a sort of Night Land The Abridged Series. And then there's all the people since who've written their own versions of The Night Land or short stories set in The Night Land. Heck, when I was part of the large scale fan project The Magic Expanded Multiverse, one of the other writers on the project created an entire dying world based on The Night Land. People are just drawn to this book like, well, abhumans to the last redoubt of humanity, I guess.

Which is all intensely funny to me because a few years back I did the same exact thing. I started reading The Night Land and the further in I got, the more convinced I became that if you could just, if you could just make it so every single paragraph didn't start with "And", so every verb wasn't constructed like "I not to have slept" and "the hour did be full come", so that it read a bit more like his other novels like the brilliant Boats of the Glenn Carrig... it could just be so good!

I did not last long on my epic quest to rewrite The Night Land. Most of that was because I was crashing out of Toronto with a chronic pain condition and a boatload of trauma, but I also just couldn't quite make the project work in my own head. Eventually I found myself coming back around to Rateliff's position: the archaic writing is there because that's how Hodgson wanted to tell the story; to strip it out is to simply produce a new work, and you might as well just... do that, and take or leave The Night Land as is.

Apparently, though, the temptation will always be there for each new generation of writers to rewrite The Night Land.

Read More On Patreon

#classic lit #the night land #elden ring #the worm ouroboros #classic fantasy #lit crit #dungeons & dragons

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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Jordannnn! I am obsessed that you’re obsessed! Because I am also still reeling from this one (the thots took over and wouldn’t release me!)!!! You are simply the BEST! Thank you for reading all the many snippets I sent your way and for helping work out some of the bits that I struggled with!

I’ve been plagued by this since January (or even before?) and now I’m freeee! What to do with all this space in my brain now that the thots have been set?! At lease Bradley and his Honey are THRIVING, lol

more belowwww

I think it’s safe to say that this particular Bradley has a wife kink, lol. He is OBSESSED with that ring on her finger. He likes seeing it everywhereeee and the way it feels under his tongue (and I OOP-)

When he catches her it’s feels like such a delicate situation. She’s flustered and a bit embarrassed, not from taking care of business (the man left her high and dry that morning, she didn’t get her usual proper send off! and its a heat wave! like a girl has NEEDS!) but from being unprepared for his presence vs it being something planned for them to do together (which in my head, these two love a bit of mutual masturbation, and love watching the other get all worked up)!

And “yes? i…maybe?” part was so important to me because it really was the MOMENT that set up this whole fic, so THANK YOU for helping me get it just right! There was a lot her response needed to do, and the feelings of being shy and unsure and vv turned on and interested. I think my favorite bit in that part was the “bradley, bradley, this is so hot” because in that moment she means it more about what they’re doing in that moment together vs just what they’re watching.

But that whole scene of him prioritizing her pleasure?? The man is a FEMINIST. And him breaking out the sonos and the 4k was just next level. I’m still in a tizzy! I don’t think I’ll ever get past it.

I don’t mean to make all my Bradley’s little drama queens, but like I can’t help it, because he really does the most! (that little moment where he throws his arms out and yells “you told me not to think”, like the man is a DIVA and I love him!) And trying to not make him seem like a total asshole for wanting to stay home was something I tried to be very conscious of, the birthday boy just had his own plans! (and in his defense he definitely thought it was just going to be some casual beers with the team)

Her apron amused me, and I did google cooking puns, but choose that one specifically as an ode to the Tom Cruise movie retrospective, lol.

And to think I almost didn’t include the party scene! But if I hadn’t then there wouldn’t have been such a cute moment between Mav and Bradley! The fact that he went to no less than SIX party stores because he wanted his son to have the best decorations is just the sweetest! (that’s his dad that’s his dad that’s his dad!) And Penny spilling the tea because you KNOW he wouldn’t have said a thing or just been like “gotta love that two day amazon delivery”, PLS she was like “file this under: things you need to know about your father”.

AND THEN THINGS QUICKLY SPIRAL FROM HERE!

I picked the red vibes an an homage to his helmet and don't ask me how I knew these kits existed because I literally cannot remember, but at least someone is taking full advantage of it!

My only little regret was not working in a line about how if she had come to him about wanting to bring a third into the bedroom that he would have been open to the conversation. Like he is SO gone for her, and while sharing isn't exactly something that he would put on his sexual bucket list, he would be do down to make whatever she wanted to happen. So while they find a compromise that works for everyone, he would definitely not shut down that conversation if she wanted to have it.

And bless her, Miss Honey is so desperate for him to understand that she's so happy with him! Like she doesn't need or want anyone else, and doesn't want him thinking that she feels like she wants more in any way shape or form. They're just so obsessed with each other in that way, lol (and I don't blame her!)

And the consent was so important! He doesn't even get the chance to fully tell her what he was thinking before she is ALL CAPS YES! Because she KNOWS that he wouldn't ever put her in a situation where she might feel uncomfortable. She knows that if he is approaching her with something, its because he thinks it's something she would enjoy too (and boyyyyy does she!) But I love the emotional intimacy that that allows for! That level of trust between them is so lovely!

AND THEN THINGS SPIRALED EVEN MORE AND WE WERE ALL 404-ING TOGETHER! WHO WROTE THAT?? Ma'am I WAS SOBER!

And then there was cake! Haha!

The thots were thot and Bradley had the best birthday because of it, lol! Thank you for all the woogirl hype, idk what I would do without youuuu!

Have Your Cake and Eat it T(w)o

Summary: It may be his birthday, but Bradley is determined to make all of your fantasies come true.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Length: 9K

Warnings: fluff, sweet smut, and downright filthy smut. MINORS DNI

[Author's Note: I apologize for nothing. But also, see y'all in a week 😅]

It had been a damn long day of flying.

A heatwave had settled over San Diego and Bradley had been sweating since before he’d even zipped up his flight suit for the day. It was only a couple days into June and the temperature was in the upper nineties, unheard of this time of year for the area.

By the end of their fourth hour of running flight simulations, everyone on the Dagger Squad were all sweat-sodden and miserable. Thankfully, Cyclone had taken pity on them and cut them loose for the day early.

Hot and uncomfortable, all he had been looking forward to all day was a nice long cool shower. One that he was hopeful he could coax you into joining with him.

It had been almost impossible for him to pull himself out of bed that morning. He had woken up to you soft and warm and draped over his chest. The high thread-count white cotton sheet rumpled around low on your waist, still naked from the night before.

Yeah, it had been really fucking hard. Both his cock and the way he had to drag himself out of bed without giving you a proper start to the day.

The blast of cold air that hits him the moment he walks through the front door was second best thing he’s felt all day.

Bradley was just about to call out to you when he hears a moan- a decidedly unfeminine moan.

And then he hears you.

He could pick out that sweet, breathy whine from anywhere. He’d made it a mission from the very first time he’d made you come to learn all the sounds of your pleasure, each new discovery was catalogued and filed away in his brain.

He doesn’t bother toeing off his boots as he makes his way to your shared bedroom.

The door had been left open and he is welcomed to the sight of your diamond ring sparkling brilliantly against your shiny, silken pussy.

You are so engrossed in whatever you are watching that you don’t even notice him as he leans against the doorframe to admire the irresistible picture in front of him.

He’d been missing you since even before he’d locked the front door behind him. The thought of getting you rocking and grinding on top of him was the only thing that had made his day slightly more bearable.

And the vision of you propped up against the tufted linen headboard splayed naked in bed as you circled yourself was even better than he could have hoped for.

His cock was already more than half hard as he took you in. Your rapid breaths, your perfect for him body, your wet fingers.

“Oh, this is a pretty sight.”

Startled, you nearly drop your phone. Knees snapping together from the way they had been butterflied out.

“B-Bradley,” you stuttered out, looking adorably flustered.

“Hi, honey,” he greets you, low and velvety.

The sounds of sex were still coming from the speaker on your phone. Wet slurping, desperate whimpers, and the unmistakable sharp, slapping noise of skin-on-skin.

You started to pull your glistening fingers away from the center of you, “I, um-”

There was nothing more he liked than watching you get yourself off, but he’d clearly caught you off guard. And it was more than obvious to him that you were feeling embarrassed about the way he discovered you.

You’re always beautiful, but he especially loves the way you look when you’re flushed and turned on.

“This is a nice surprise to come home to,” he says soothingly as he comes to sit next to you on the bed, “You look so pretty making yourself feel good.”

You give him a small smile, soft and shy.

“You’re home early, Roo,” you say bashfully before tilting your face up for a kiss.

He makes a hmm of contentment when his lips meet yours. Your mouth parts for him easily as you sigh into him. All the tension he had been feeling from the day melts away as you soften against him. Needing to touch you, he brings his hand up to stroke along the delicate skin of your neck.

A particularly loud cry surprises you both apart and you pull away from his embrace, sheepishly trying to exit out of the video that’s still filling the screen.

His mouth goes dry as he registers the content of that film currently playing on your phone.

There’s a woman flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, stretched out between two large hard bodies. One in front of her and one behind as she takes both of their cocks.

He puts his hand on your wrist, in an attempt to pause your fumbling.

“You don’t have to stop on my account.”

You were avoiding meeting his gaze, and that didn’t work for him. Not in the slightest.

“I…oh-”

Your eyes fly to his and whatever you were going to say dissolves into reedy whimper as he takes your shiny fingers and pulls them deep into his mouth, while he holds your stunned gaze.

He had your attention now.

Savoring the taste of you, he runs his tongue over, under, between your fingers and then along the band of your engagement ring.

“Keep touching yourself,” he says, giving your fingers one more obscene lick.

It’s a request. It’s a command.

The noise you make gets caught in your throat as you nod at him before bringing you spit-slicked fingers back to the center of you, gasping softly as you make contact with your clit.

It’s takes a herculean effort for him to keep his hands to himself as he watches you tease yourself with featherlight touch.

He knows that you’d readily welcome his hands on that sensitive part of you, but you were pursuing your own pleasure and he wanted you to get off exactly how you needed to. Just because he wasn’t the one touching you didn’t mean he going to make you do all the work, he knew all the spots on your body that would make you quiver and quake.

And he was a team player, after all.

Bradley runs his mustache along your skin as he trails open-mouth kisses up the column of your neck. You shiver at the contact as you lean your head away to give him more access to taste you. He can smell your body wash from the shower you must have taken earlier in the day, its scent still lingering on you.

He teases you with his lips and his tongue as he watches the video with you from out of the corner of his eye as you continue to touch yourself for him, now with more intensity.

“Mm, that’s hot,” he rasps.

Your little noises paired with the ones coming from your phone make his blood thrum in his veins.

“Yeah?” you ask breathily, your hips shifting against your fingers as you seek more friction.

“Hell yeah,” he says, grazing his teeth against you. “Is this something you think about? Do you like the idea of taking two cocks?”

Your eyebrows pinch together overwhelmed as you work to try to cobble together an answer for him.

“Yes? I… Maybe? I-I don’t know. It’s just… Bradley, Bradley, this is so hot. Oh my god,” you release a needy whine, still circling your clit. “I haven’t really thought about it, you know, n-not really. Don’t need to because I have you, but I oh fuck-”

The high-pitched, breathy keen you release cuts off your self-conscious rambling as the video segues into a close-up of one of the men feeding his cock to the eager, rosy-faced woman, still glossy and slick from being inside of her, as the other man takes his place and thrusts inside of her with ease.

“It is, honey, it’s really damn hot.” he agrees with his eyes glued to you. You are mesmerizing. “C’mon, why don’t you give yourself something to fill that pussy? I want you to feel good.”

He knew just how wet you were, how much this was turning you on. He had seen it earlier and he could hear it now. His gaze bounces between synchronized bodies on the screen and the movement of your hand as you slide two of your fingers inside of you.

The sight is enough to nearly make him come in his flight suit.

“Have you come at all yet?” he asks, dropping a few heated kisses along the curve of your jaw.

“No,” you pant, your breaths quick and shallow. “Was close earlier.”

He hums contemplatively as he traces his nose along your cheekbone.

“That was rude of me to interrupt when you were doing such a good job taking care of yourself, wasn’t it?” he murmurs rough and low against your temple. “Let me make it up to you.”

Rooster opens up drawer of the nightstand next to him and pulls out the remote for the tv, turning it on. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion when he takes your phone from your hand rewinding the video before casting it to the flat screen mounted on the wall.

He takes advantage of the way you open your questioning mouth to dip his head down and sweeps his tongue against yours for a deep, filthy kiss. All while the grunts and whimpers from your video fill the bedroom, now from the high-quality soundbar instead of your phone.

Reaching into the drawer once more, he moved to stand up and then sets your favorite vibrator next to you.

“Have fun, pretty girl,” he tells you with a wicked grin and a wink as he struts to the bathroom. Feeling very pleased with himself when he hears the quiet buzzing and the at the needy little noises you’re making before he closes the door.

The second he shuts the door he feels all his composure slip away has he rakes his hands through his hair. He had been trying to play it cool, but it had taken every ounce of his willpower to not beg to fuck you the way he had been dying to from the moment he had seen your diamond flashing at him against your silky wetness.

He works quick to get his flight suit off and releases a sigh of relief when he is able to get a hand on his hard cock. He had been sweating from the heat but now you had him sweating for a completely different reason.

Once in the shower he lathers himself in your luxurious yet overpriced eucalyptus scented body wash and slowly jerks himself off with a supportive forearm propped up against the cool, tiled wall. It doesn’t take him long to come at all.

So he washes off his body, shampoos his hair, and then works himself up all over again.

All while he thinks about the way you looked and all you perfect sounds he can’t hear over the water, but ones that knows by heart.

It’s been a few weeks since Bradley walked in on you, and he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself or to get nearly enough of your body.

He’s always had a high sex drive, a byproduct of years spent training and honing his body, but he craved you all the time. All it took was a look or a whiff of your body wash or the sound of your laugh, and he could be ready for you in a moment.

The first thing he registered most mornings was the smell of your shampoo from the way his nose is usually buried in your hair. The second thing is how perfect your body felt pressed against him, already hard and willing.

And nothing lulled him to sleep faster than feeling your heartbeat as it settled into a slow, steady rhythm after having set your pulse racing by getting you desperately writhing against him.

He always thought he had good self-control, that is, until he met you and you proved him otherwise.

On the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday, he couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day than getting his mouth on you.

Seeing your sleepy, satisfied smile pillowed in bed before he left for work did more for him than coffee ever could.

You had sent him on his way with a See you later, birthday boy and a saucy little wiggle of your fingers before burrowing further underneath the sheets for a few more blissful minutes in bed.

There had been a traveler of a smooth dark roast and a box of pastries left in the Ready Room with a from Mav inked across the top in his all caps scrawl. Rooster’s cheek had ticked up he noted that the box was filled with all of his favorites as he reached in and grabbed a bear claw.

The team was quick to demolish the treats, free food never went to waste in a room full of naval aviators with a high metabolism.

He had had a great day of flying. And to top it off he had pulled tone on Hangman not once, but twice. The push-up penalty was something they had kept up with from their time getting prepared for the Uranium Mission, and seeing Seresin sweat it out on the hot tarmac was just an added bonus to an already great day.

And things were only looking up because he knew you would be waiting for him at home.

He was in a great mood as he headed out to the Bronco, whistling to himself and thinking about the night he had planned for the two of you.

The keys he had been swirling around his index finger nearly dropped to the ground when Phoenix called out a sing-songy “See you later tonight, Rooster!”

That stopped him dead in his tracks, “Wait, what?”

He knew that the gleam in her sharp eyes meant she was up to no good.

“For your birthday, bird boy. We know you hate surprises, so we’re throwing you an unsurprise party. Figured a couple hour heads up would get you in the spirit,” she said with a sly smile. “Mav told me he even convinced Cyclone to have a team building day tomorrow, so I imagine everyone will be extra celebratory in your honor.”

Bradley wasn’t mad at the idea of a government sponsored beach day, but going to the Hard Deck was not on his carefully curated agenda for tonight.

“I can’t tonight. I’m pretty sure my fiancée made some plans for us tonight, sorry Nat.” He hoped the flimsy excuse didn’t sound like the complete bullshit it was. “Maybe we could grab some beers tomorrow?”

You had asked him more than a few times if he had wanted to do anything, and he kept hedging the question finding different unique and usually sweaty ways to distract you.

There was only one thing he wanted for his birthday. And it was you.

The thought that his friends might plan something on their own never even crossed his mind.

Well, shit.

“Oh no, she knows. Who do you think helped plan it?” she gloats, wagging her phone at him. Clearly reveling in his surprise and dismay. “See you later tonight!”

He didn’t dare challenge her further, not with that pointed look in her eye. Bradley already put his life in danger enough as it was, he was not going to get on Natasha Trace’s bad side.

But that didn’t stop him from dropping his head down on his steering wheel and groaning the second he was alone in his car.

He had been toying with an idea for a few weeks now. It was also probably the reason he felt so insatiable when it came to you lately, why he needed you coming against his mouth or around his fingers or on his cock any chance he could get.

And once it had crystallized, it was something he couldn’t get out of his head. It made is pulse pound erratically just to think about it.

It may be his birthday, but he had a gift in mind he wanted to give you instead.

His mouth starts watering the second he opens the door to the cozy craftsman the two of you had purchased together earlier in the year as the scent of vanilla wafts from the kitchen.

The sound of your pretty voice carries through to the front of the house as you sing along to one of the various playlists you have for whatever mood you’re in. It makes him smile as he listens to you for a moment before he closes the door, toes off his boots, and makes his way to you.

“Damn, it smells good in here.”

“Jesus, Rooster!” You spin around with a hand on your heart, wearing the Whisky Business that Mav had gotten you for your birthday, probably picked out with Penny’s help. Your face softens for a moment, as you give him that smile you always do when he comes home, before your eyebrows shoot up. “Wait! Close your eyes!”

You’re adorably flustered in the way you’re trying to use your body to block his eyes from the cake you’ve been working on.

He huffs an amused laugh, but does as you ask. Even goes the extra mile to bring his hands up to cover them, “There, happy?”

“Very,” you say indulgently. “You’re lucky I hadn’t started piping yet before you tried to send me to an early grave. Hate to break it to you, baby, but you’re not on my life insurance policy yet. If you were trying to score an early pay out before I even get your last name, you’ll have to think again.”

Bradley could not wait to marry you. He’d take you to the courthouse right this second if he thought that’s what you wanted. But he didn’t mind a few more months of waiting when he had forever to look forward to with you.

He can hear the crinkle of the plastic piping bag as you work, “And what if I’m just trying to score? You know, generally speaking.”

You boo at him congenially before laughing at his bad pun, a grin taking over his face at the sound.

Yeah, he was really fucking excited to make you his wife.

“Ok, I’m done now,” you say after a few minutes, “You can open your eyes now.”

You look entirely too pleased with yourself, there’s a playful smile on your face and you’ve got a mischievous glint in your eyes.

The glass cake stand behind you is covered with a kitchen towel, so he can’t even get a peek of at the creation through the glass dome even if he wanted to.

That’s fine, he could be patient. For the cake, at least.

You were a different story entirely.

He strides towards you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you to in for a kiss. He can’t hold back his low moan at the taste of you. Your mouth is sweet and fruity, undoubtedly from sampling the frosting you had made.

“Mm, strawberry?” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Your favorite.”

Technically, his second. The taste of you would always be his favorite flavor, but he couldn’t wait to try that cake after he was done with you.

You pull away to grab the piping bag from the white marble counter, squeezing some of the smooth, tangy frosting onto your finger. You’re about to offer it to him when your phone pings next to you. You cheekily pop that finger in your mouth instead as you read the text, and fuck, if it doesn’t turn him on.

“It’s Nat,” you tell him, “She just wanted to confirm what time I was planning on delivering you to your unsurprise party.” Your thumbs fly over the screen as you type out your response before putting your phone back down and give him a very self-satisfied grin.

Fuck.

He had spent his commute home trying to think of a plausible excuse for getting out of the impromptu-to-him party. Fucking all rational thought out of his fiancée probably wouldn’t fly. Nor would a convenient bout of food poisoning, since he’d eaten with the rest of the team today. And Mad Cow seemed too far-fetched.

“Do we have to?” he asks weak and resigned, pinning your hand on his chest when you playfully swat at him.

He tries not to sulk, knowing he has to wait even longer to have you in the way he has been dreaming about, but the way your mouth quirks up amused tells him all he needs to know the success of that endeavor.

“Your friends want to celebrate you. I want to celebrate you, too,” you tell him, running a hand down his abs.

He knows he’s being dramatic, but right now he doesn’t care. Not when he can still taste you in his mouth.

“But I see them all day, every day,” he grumbles. He crowds you into the counter, pressing himself against your soft stomach, letting you feel how worked up he already was. “And I haven’t seen nearly enough of you today.”

“As if you didn’t have your way with me this morning,” you tease, sliding your arms around his waist, your fingers digging into the top of his ass. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You love being the center of attention.”

“I’d rather be in the center of yo-”

Your hand flies to his mouth, cutting him off.

“I swear to god, Bradley, if you finish that sentence I’ll give your entire cake to Hangman.” There’s no heat in the threat. The affection in your eyes evident, even as you exasperatedly shake your head at him.

He jokingly puts his hands up in surrender.

“Now that that’s settled,” you say with finality, “Go shower and get ready. I love you, but you smell like jet fuel and sweat.” You scrunch your nose at him before you press a kiss to his cheek and then lightly push him towards the bedroom.

Just not in the way he had been looking forward to.

Rooster had gotten himself off in the shower and even that hadn’t done anything to ease the tension that was steadily building inside of him.

He was having a good time, a great time even.

He was surrounded by all of his favorite people, the family he gained since getting called back to Top Gun. San Diego was home now and he had more than he ever hoped to get in this life.

The Hard Deck had been filled to the brim with strands of colorful streamers and clusters of balloons. A big banner had been strung up over the bar that read Happy Birthday Rooster. A large table was set up in the corner and was piled high with boxes of pizza, chips and dips, platters of poppers and roll ups, and other shareables snacks.

There was even a custom game of Pin the Jake on the Jackass taped up on the wall. He learned later that the idea had been Hangman’s contribution to the party, only after Seresin had boasted about his precision aim when he claimed his free beer for winning the game.

The sight had stopped him short and made his chest tighten when he had walked in and seen how much work had gone into decorating the bar for his unsurprise party.

You must have sensed his emotions because you had given his hand a light squeeze before pulling him further into the space.

Mav had been the first to greet him with a hug and a “You’re getting old, kid.” A moment passing between them.

Both of them knew exactly how long it had been since they’d celebrated a birthday together, and to be in this place again with the man who helped raise him meant everything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he jokingly grunted, giving him a light shove before clearing his throat, “You’ve still got a few years on me, old man.”

Mav squeezed his shoulder before stepping aside to let Penny cut in. She had been quick to wrap him up, telling him that drinks were on the house that night. And before she pulled away, she whispered conspiratorially into his ear that Mav dragged her to no less than six party supply stores trying to find just the right décor for the night.

From there it’s a flurry of faces and hardy handshakes and beers getting pressed into his hand.

Nat had curated the playlist with all of his favorite songs, Bob had made his mom’s buffalo chicken dip, and Hangman had promised to lay off the bird puns for the next twenty-four hours as a gift. And god knows, he’d take what he could get. It was perfect.

Then there was you.

You were wearing his favorite dress, he didn’t know if it was to tease him or to please him. Knowing you, it was probably both.

And it’s working because he can’t take his eyes off of you.

When he’d seen you coming out of the bedroom wearing it, it had nearly done him in.

“Honey, I’m begging. Let’s stay home. Do I gotta get on my knees?”

“Maybe tomorrow night,” you’d trilled leaning up to kiss him. Then you were gliding past him to the front door with an exaggerated sway of your hips. You left him no choice but to follow when you moved your body like that.

No one has ever driven him as crazy as you. Once you had figured that out, he never stood a chance. You knew exactly how to play him.

The only problem was no one left him alone long enough for him to tell you just how pretty you looked tonight.

Every time he thought he was going to get to have a moment with you, someone comes by to wish him happy birthday or to get him a shot or to pull him away for a game of pool.

Bradley had switched to water an hour ago. He had a vision for how this day was going to end, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get the chance to fuel some fantasies.

He loved Penny and Mav and Nat and Bob and everyone else. Even Jake. And he was having a good time, he wasn’t too proud to admit he was an attention whore and had been soaking it up. But he was desperate for you.

You were chatting with Mav and Penny over near the jukebox while he stared at you from across the room.

The bar was less busy than it had been earlier, but things were still very much in full swing. Probably due to Cyclone’s generous team building day that was planned for tomorrow, everyone was getting loose and loud.

“Rooster, man, the way you have been undressing your fiancée with your eyes is bordering on indecent,” Hangman drawls, sliding up next to him. “You’re making Bob blush. Now why don’t you grab your girl and get out of here, so that we can finally put on some good music.”

His cheek twitches as he bites back the smile, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He lightly shoves the smirking aviator, before patting his shoulder as he moves to make his way towards you.

You lean into him as he saddles up to you.

“Hi, Roo,” you greet him sweetly, “You having a good time?”

“I’ve had the best time, honey. But it’s been a long day, think I’m ready to head home now.” He’s grateful you have your back to the wall so he can let his hand drift from where it had been resting on your lower back, down to your ass.

He turns to the older couple and thanks them for everything. He feels a faint blush crawling up his cheeks at the knowing smile that Penny’s directing at him. Bradley watches as you hug them goodbye. When it’s his turn, Mav pulls him in tight, “Love you, kid, happy birthday.”

And with your hand in his he pulls you out the door, the sound of the music drown out by the blood rushing in his ears as he thinks about what’s to come.

finallyfinallyfinally

He pushes you against the door the second you get home and pins your hands above your head as he claims your mouth. Bradley takes advantage of your surprised gasp and slips his tongue in your mouth. Groaning when your hips rock against him in response.

This.

This is what he’d been wanting all day.

He wanted to be sharing your air, he wanted your needy noises, he wanted your legs shaking and quaking for him.

Still holding your wrists in one large hand, he drops the other to the short hem of your dress, and drags his fingers slowly up along the inside of your thigh.

“Wait, Roo, what about your cake?” The question is all ragged breath and teasing tone. He’s got his face buried in your neck, but he can sense the playful smile you’re wearing.

“Been craving somethin’ a bit sweeter.” He licks a long line up the side of your throat, “Nothing tastes as good as you, honey.”

“These puns,” you make a sound that lands somewhere between a laugh and a sigh as you drop you head back against the door. “You’ve been spending too much time around Jake.”

“Take that back,” he growls, nipping at your collarbone.

“Make me.”

A challenge. A request.

He grabs a rough handful of your ass before he hauls you up against him. Your legs wrapping around his waist immediately as you bring that hot mouth of yours to suck at the skin of his neck as he walks the two of you to the bedroom.

Bradley sits down on the edge of the bed with you straddling his lap, his hands are up your skirt and he’s gripping you so tight that he wouldn’t be surprised if he finds the contours of his fingerprints still on you tomorrow. You moan into his mouth and grind yourself against him as he strains against the zipper of his jeans.

He is so fucking hard for you.

Your breasts are so close to his mouth in this position and he is dying to get his mouth on you. He grunts out something unintelligible as he tries to pull the straps of your dress off your shoulders. And to his dismay, you pull away and move to stand up.

The blow of losing the feeling of you in his arms and pressed close against his body is lessened when your hands go to that floaty little hem of your dress as slowly pull it up and over your head.

And he swears to god in that moment his heart stops beating.

You are a vision. It’s almost painful how truly stunning you are right now standing in front of him.

His eyes don’t stay in one spot for long. They can’t. Not when there’s so much to look at. His brain only able to process small bits and pieces at a time.

Sheer. Skin. Lace. Skin. Red. Skin. Straps. Skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you kidding me?” he groans, raking his hands through his hair, trying to get a grip on himself. “You’ve had that on the whole time? Holy fucking shit, honey.”

Red. Red. Red.

You are feast for his hungry eyes. You are the rain to his drought.

Lace. Lace. Lace.

You are his everything.

Skin. Skin. Skin.

Bradley is off the bed in a flash and pulling you back into his arms for a filthy kiss. There’s nothing polite about the way his tongue invades your mouth. There’s nothing nice about the way his teeth graze your lower lip.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he says as he grinds himself against you. “You’ve got me turned inside out. All day I’ve been counting down the hours until I could have you like this.”

He claims your mouth again, absorbing all your little sounds.

His hands coast over your body, his fingers tracing over the stitching of the thing that’s too skimpy to even be considered a bodysuit. The angular lines of the straps that crossed your body contrasted with the curves of your body and the panels of delicate lace of the lingerie that adorned you. The juxtaposition of it all was dizzying.

“I’ve been so good, kept my hands to myself during the party, didn’t throw you over my shoulder and leave with you after the second hour like I imagined doing,” he rumbles into your ear. “But I need you to know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you touching yourself to that threesome video. All I can hear is the wet noises you made as your fingers worked yourself and your whimpers when you liked the way those men were fucking her.”

You suck in a sharp inhale.

He grins against your neck, when you make that exact sound that’s been haunting him for weeks, “God, that sound. I wanna give you everything you want, honey, everything you need. But the idea of sharing you with anyone else, I just- I’m all yours. And the idea of letting someone hear your needy sounds or-fuck- someone seeing your pretty face when you come, it makes me feel out of control.”

“Bradley, I only want you. I promise, just you.” You’ve got the fabric of his shirt clenched in your fists.

“Hey, hey, I know that,” he says soothingly, taking your face in his hands, “You’re wearing my ring, you’re all I want too, honey.”

Your eyes flutter at the admission and you say his name with a sigh.

“I’m so fucking desperate for you all the damn time. And if you’re willing to try something with me, I think I know how to give you-”

You cut him off, nodding rapidly, “Yes, Bradley, yes.”

He releases a little laugh at your enthusiasm, stroking your cheek with this thumb, “I haven’t even told you what I’m thinking yet.”

“With you, it’s always yes. Easily. Every time.”

His heart stumbles over the sheer amount of trust you are giving him. That he’s earned this gift from you, that you hand it over to him so unequivocally.

He wants to get down on his knees and propose to you all over again. He loves you so much, he doesn’t know how he lived his life until you waltz in and rocked his world.

Bradley pulls your face to his and shows you how much you mean to him with his mouth.

The kiss is all unreserved passion and heat, it’s deep and wet and thorough. Your lips on his, moving against him, taking what you want, giving what you want. It’s all he needs. And he loses himself in the feeling of being this close to you, getting to have you this way.

You are a flurry of hands as you work to pull his shirt off. Your fingers and lips skimming along the newly exposed skin of his body. He stops you with a hand on your wrist when you grasp him through his jeans.

“This is about you, I want to give you everything,” he tells you, voice rough with want. “If we start and you’re not into it, we stop. If you change your mind during, you let me know and we stop. And then I will happily make your legs shake in whatever way you want me to.”

You nod at him, your breathing coming out in quick pants.

“Nuh-uh, need to hear you say it. Is this something you want?”

“Yes, Bradley. I want to try this with you, whatever it is. I want it and I want it with you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And if you change your mind at any point?” he prompts.

“I’ll tell you.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs lowly as he holds your gaze, “Now go get my cock.”

Your eyes widen in a way that he would find amusing under any other circumstance, but right now, his resolve is being pulled taut.

He gives your waist a reassuring squeeze before he jerks his chin towards the bathroom. You pull him in for a quick, heated kiss before turning to go do as he asked, giving him a view of the barely there string of the thong that disappeared between the cheeks of your perfect ass.

He is quick to unbuckle his belt and shuck off his jeans, sighing in relief as he palms himself through his briefs.

The kit had been a gag gift that one of you had somehow ended up with after a very drunken and chaotic white elephant exchange with the Dagger Squad over Christmas Eve.

It had been comical at first when you’d gotten home and set the box on the counter, still tipsy off Coyote’s mother’s recipe for hot buttered rum, both of you a little giggly and a little curious.

It was less funny when you’d whispered in his ear for him to read the instructions before you’d dropped down to your knees in front of him in the kitchen, he’d had to read them twice before the letters on the page formed coherent words.

And then it was downright humorless when twenty-four hours later you fucked yourself on it. His knuckles white as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in as he watched you take and take and take.

You’d told him afterwards that you liked the real thing better, so it was something that you saved for when he was away for training or deployments when you were needy and missing him. Plus, the two of you had other things you liked to use in the bedroom.

He’s been teetering on the edge for weeks, the mental image of you taking both of his cocks has been driving him to near madness. And now you’re in front of him wearing that holding the opaque replica of his cock in your hands.

Rooster feels the last threads of his self-control fray and snap, “Get on the bed for me.”

It almost feels like a fever dream the way you crawl onto the bed. As you settle yourself in the middle leaning back on one arm, your breasts pushed out enticingly, and your legs propped open wide and welcoming for his greedy eyes, “This work for you, birthday boy?”

You make a squeak as he grabs your ankle and pulls you down so that you’re sprawled flat on the bed. He runs his hands up your thighs slowly, watching as the goosebumps trail in his wake. And then he roughly flips you over, sliding a couple of his fingers under the thin string nestled against the center of you, and pulls it over the globe of your ass.

You’re already glistening for him.

“Yeah, honey, this works for me.”

With the gusset of your indecent lingerie out of his way, he flips you onto your back once again. He takes a half-step back to kick off his briefs before coming to stand between your open legs. Rooster doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life as he towers over you.

You’re all soft skin and red lace and kiss swollen lips and pupils blown wide with want.

He crooks a finger for you to hand over his cock. He likes the flush that is working it was across your cheeks as you pass it to him.

You’ve spent more time with this than he has, so he takes a moment examining it. The feel of it in his hand more familiar than he expected it to be. He’s not too proud to say it’s a good-looking cock, so he does. And then enjoys the way you dreamily nod in agreement, entirely enthralled with his hand is wrapped around it.

He holds your gaze as he brings it up to his mouth and spits on the head.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, wide-eyed and rubbing your thighs together.

He smirks as he works the silicone cock like he would his own. Running his thumb under the wide, flared head. Treating with a turn of his wrist before stroking back down.

“Gotta warm it up for you,” he murmurs, whisky smooth.

Up. Twist. Down. Squeeze.

“Oh my god, Bradley. Fuck. Fuck me.”

Up. Twist. Down. Squeeze.

“I promise my cocks will treat you real nice, honey.”

“Only want yours.”

He brushes back some of the hair from your face as looks down at you. “If it’s too much, you’ll tell me. You’re the one in control here, got it?”

Your enthusiastic nod, fills him with something dark and smoky.

The diamond on your ring finger catches the light as you reach out for him and he climbs on the bed next to you, kneeling close to your head. You scoot yourself closer to him, turning your face towards him to press a few sweet kisses to his straining thighs before you take him in your hand.

He releases a soft groan when you start to mouth at his cock. Teasing him with little kitten licks, tracing the veins long his shaft. And then you’re sucking on his head, tongue flicking out over the slit. He drops his head back reveling in the sensation of your wet, hot mouth on him. As you give him exactly what you want to give him.

And then you’re taking him deep and moaning around him.

“Christ, that mouth. Keep doing that.”

You’re looking up at him with such need in your eyes, your fingers are digging into his hip as you squirm on the bed trying to seek some relief of your own.

“I got you, honey, I got you. I’ll give you what you need.” He leans over and lines up his twin cock with the center of you, watching as you give around the opaque silicone, “Gonna give you both my cocks.”

You pull off him and whimper his name, still working him with a hand as you press your forehead into his thigh overwhelmed by the stretch. He firmly pushes it all the way inside of you holding it there for moment as you gasp against him, breathing hard.

“Oh, I-” You gasp as he pulls it out completely, tapping the thick head again your clit before filling you back up again to the hilt.

He can’t look away from the way you roll your hips against his hand.

“Look at you, honey, already so wrecked and you only have one of my cocks in you.”

He can tell it’s a struggle for you to lift your head and look at him, never one to shy away from a challenge, and then it’s his turn to whine as you hold his gaze and take him back in your mouth.

You reach a hand up and run it up along his abs. His stomach tenses as you tease your fingers along him.

Rooster doesn’t know what he finds hotter the way your pillowy lips are wrapped around him or the way your wet pussy is clinging to his likeness as he pumps it in and out of you. Your cunt leaking around it, now slick and shiny with the evidence of how turned on you were.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can you feel how it’s just slipping in and out of you? God, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

You moan your agreement.

It takes a bit of maneuvering for him to get the angle just right, with the slight give of the silicone, but he knows the moment it hits that spot inside of you from the wanton sound the claws its way out of you.

“No, no. You gotta keep those legs open for me so I can fuck you there too. Come on, take what you want.” He groans his satisfaction was you start to rock and rutt yourself against him, as you chase your high.

He reaches down and threads his fingers in your hair, gently guiding your pace, as you sucked and licked and drooled around him. You knew how much he liked it messy and you were treating him so well. You hollowed out your cheeks as you took him deep, gagging on him.

“I know they’re big,” he croons, “You don’t have anything to prove, honey. It’s the position, isn’t it?” You nod feebly, looking up at him with your big eyes. “Don’t worry, I know how good you are at taking me. You’re doing so good. Always make me feel so damn good. Such a sweet mouth.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the praise.

He collects the tears that are accumulating in the corner of your eye with the hand that’s not currently occupied by fucking you.

“You feeling good, pretty girl?”

“Feel so full, Roo.” Your body is covered with a sheen of sweat, he wants to lick it from where it’s collecting the hollow of your neck.

“Yeah?” he grunts, “Tell me how much you like this.”

“So much, so much. It’s so fucking good, oh my god.” You suck him back into your mouth, sliding you hand up the back of his thigh to grip his ass.

“Such a good girl telling me what you like and taking what you want.”

The two of you fall into a rhythm, you work his cock while he works you with its twin. He can hear how wet you are even over your needy sounds and his ragged breathing. Your body is writhing beneath him in pleasure.

He knows you’re close from the way you are whimpering. He leans over to get his fingers on your clit with his other hand. The change of angle forcing you to take him deeper down your throat.

“Want you to come on my cock, can you do that for me?”

Instead of answering him, you just bob your head up and down quicker along his length.

Your body is tight with tension as you moan around him. He can feel his pulse pounding as he works you with quick, short strokes until you’re crying out and trembling beneath him.

He pulls his wet, warm cock from your mouth as he continues to pump you full of himself as he draws out your orgasm, wanting to hear every sinful sound that comes out of your pretty mouth unobstructed. Stopping when he sees the signs of your sensitivity.

Bradley pulls the imitation of him from your spent body and sets it to the side, then he gathers you in his arms to hold you as you come down.

He tenderly brushes off some of the sweaty strands away from your face. Your eyes are slightly glazed over, but you’re wearing the softest smile for him.

With his thumb he glides over your full bottom lip, shiny with spit and his precum. He wipes it way affectionately before slipping it into his mouth, savoring the taste of both of you combined on his tongue.

You surprise him when you surge forward for a kiss, your arm wrapping around his neck to pull him on top of you. You’re loose-limbed and pliant underneath him. He loves feeling the contrast of your softness and the lace you’re wearing against his skin.

“How are you feeling? Do you need a break or do you want to stop?”

“I’m so, so good. I-I really like this, Bradley, I don’t want to stop. At least, not yet.” He slides a hand along your jaw, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You sigh into his parted mouth, “It’s your birthday, but why do I feel like I am the one getting the getting the special treatment?”

“Oh honey, if only you knew how many hours I lost thinking about you like this,” he says dragging his mustache down your neck, letting his tongue dip out to taste the sweat on your skin like he had been dying to earlier. You shiver at the sensation. “I’m definitely enjoying this too. Thank you for trusting me and letting me give you this.”

You trail a finger down the bridge of his nose and lean in for another kiss.

“Well now I know why you’ve been so keyed up. Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve been relentless lately,” you say teasingly as you trace a finger low on his stomach.

He is reminded just how hard he still is, now that he knows you’re doing ok. Or in this case, more than ok. He can see the desire still in your eyes as you gaze at him.

He huffs and amused laugh. “Didn’t hear you complainin’, pretty thing. In fact, you sounded pretty damn greedy to me.” He drops his mouth to your ear, “‘More, Bradley’, ‘Harder, Bradley’, ‘Another one, Bradley’. Any of that ring a bell, honey?”

“Now that doesn’t sound like me.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Nope.”

“I must have fucked you really good if you can’t remember that,” he taunts proudly. “Huh, maybe you should try out a few for me. Just to see if it’ll jog your memory.”

You give him cheeky grin.

“More, Bradley.” You place kiss after kiss along his jaw. “Harder, Bradley.” That tricky hand of yours moves lower and lower until you have him in your palm. You grip him just right and work him with a pressure you know he likes, your movement eased by the wetness your mouth left behind. “Another one, Bradley,” you whisper, your teeth grazing his earlobe.

“Tell me what you want,” he groans as you rub yourself against him, the gusset of that wicked red lace number damp with your need. “Still gotta make those legs shake.”

“Want your cocks again, Roo.”

There’s a desperate edge to the desire he has for you now that he knows just how much you like taking both of him at once.

You make a noise of displeasure has he pulls himself from your body and gets off the bed. He leans down and hooks is arms under your thighs, then roughly pulls you down to the edge. Your legs lock around his waist as you try to rock against him, he sets a hand on your hipbone and presses down, stopping your movements.

“You want these cocks, huh?” He grinds himself against you, smirking at the way you whine. “Go ahead, show me how much you want them. If you want both, you’ve got earn ‘em.”

The muscles of his stomach tense as you reach over and pick up the copy of him, still shiny from your cunt. And a feral groan rips from him when your left hand grasps the base, stroking it the same way you had just stroked him.

You look up at him with your big, innocent eyes as you stick your tongue out and lave at the head of the opaque cock.

“Do you like the way you taste on my cock?” You give him a filthy grin as you let out a satisfied mm-hmm. “Dirty girl,” he murmurs, coarse and proud.

He reaches down and pulls the poor excuse for a thong back again from where it’s slipped back into place, exposing your pussy to his eyes. Wet and swollen and perfect and his.

They way you’re licking the cock in your hands is driving him wild.

“Stop teasing, I know how deep you can take me. C’mon, I wanna see it.”

Your eyes flutter at the demand, your lips stretching around the width of him. Your thumb strokes up and down along the life-like vein, and he swears he can almost feel the gentle touch of it on his own cock.

He thumbs at your clit, watching intensely as you savor your own taste and take him. He gives you just enough pressure to make your hips chase after the feeling for more.

“Now who’s the tease?” you whine petulantly, still seeking more of his touch. “I’ve earned it. Give me both.”

And as if to prove a point you take him in your mouth all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Yeah, I think you’ve earned it too,” he readily agrees, speeding up the circles he is making on you. “Would you like it if I prepared you like I prepared that cock?”

Your mouth drops open at the suggestion. It’s not something the two of you have done before, but you seemed to like it when he did it earlier.

“Yes, yes,” you breathe.

He applies more pressure to that sensitive part of you, “But you’re already so wet, honey, do you think you need it?” His grin is sharp as you squirm against him.

“Bradley, please.” It’s a whimpered plea.

With his thumb and forefinger, he opens you up further and releases a slow, steady drop of saliva onto your waiting cunt. You gasp as it connects with you, as you clench against nothing. He feels himself twitch at the sight.

You both moan when he thrusts into you. How he’s held off for so long, he has no clue. Your body is his sanctuary. Nothing else on this earth compares to the way you feel as you accept and welcome him into you.

“You just took me and you’re still so tight for me. Jesus,” he grunts as his hips snap against yours. “You’re so damn beautiful. Wish you could see how good you take my cocks.”

You preen under his filthy compliments and appreciative gaze. Making a show of taking his twin back in your greedy mouth, as your free hand works to pull out your breasts out of the lace cups for him.

For as much as he is giving you, you are giving it to him right back. You are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

His blood feels hot in his veins as he thrusts into you, deep and hard. You are warm and wet and perfect.

Any and all self-control has been long stripped away, and it’s all he can do to focus on your desperate keens and whimpers.

“I know, I know it’s good. You can be loud, let me hear how much you like it.” With his permission you pull off of him, the silicone still loosely gripped in your hand as your arm flops down to your side.

“You feel so good, Bradley. I wanted this, wanted you so bad.”

Bradley is so gone for you. You ruined him for anyone else the moment he met you. You make him feel whole and reckless and wild and safe. He was going to give you everything. You’re his.

“Who does this mouth and cunt belong to?”

“‘s yours.” You’re breathing hard now.

“Sure is,” he rasps, “and who do these cocks belong to?”

“Mine, they’re mine.”

“Damn right, honey. All yours. Fuck me, look at you. Treating your cocks so well. Fucking perfect mouth, fucking perfect cunt.”

He says you name and waits until you look at him through your watery lashes. And then his says it again, this time adding on his last name.

You flutter around him as your body erupts in goosebumps.

“Oh you liked that, huh?” The blistering primal satisfaction that fills his chest only ratchets up his need for you, “I do too. I really fucking like it.”

He repeats it over and over and over as he loses himself in you.

You were his. You were going to be his forever.

He is yours.

“Bradley!” you cry out after a powerful thrust, “Yes, yes, you’re mine.” He didn’t even know he was saying that aloud so high off your body, from watching you take both of his cocks like he was made just for you.

He gets a hand under your ass, keeping you moving against him. The sounds of sex fill the bedroom of the home he has built with you. He can feel the coiling sensation taking root in the base of his spine as your hand smooths up your body to clutch at your breast.

There’s no holding back the feral grin that overtakes his face when your legs start to tremble and quiver.

“That’s right, honey, only my cock can make your legs shake like this,” he says, rough and ruined. “Always gonna take care of you.”

Your back arches and bows off the bed when he works his thumb in rapid circles against your clit, getting you closer and closer to your release. The two of you are past words, past thoughts. Both chasing that all-encompassing blinding pleasure.

Your body pulled tight, tighter, tightest as he fucks into you until you are quaking and writhing and coming.

And with you over the edge, his own climax reaches a tipping point, and with a guttural groan, he lets go too.

He comes and comes and comes.

Bradley had peppered you with kisses and whispered all kinds of soft praise in to your ear as you had both floated back down surrounded in a rosy-hued aura.

You did so good, pretty girl. So, so good. You’re perfect.

You had whimpered when he pulled out of you, not wanting him to move an inch, not wanting him to do anything than run his gentle hands over you. You were always especially clingy afterwards.

And then he had coaxed you off the bed and out of that pretty red lace and into the shower with him. He lathered you with that expensive body wash as you leaned against him. He had dropped tender kisses along your shoulder as he dried you off with the fluffiest towel he could find.

The two of you still look entirely fucked out as you cuddled in bed eating the birthday cake you had made him.

A stroke of genius on your part.

The glass cake stand rests on his thigh as the two of you take forkfuls directly from the cake as some sitcom rerun plays in the background.

“This is so good, honey,” he moans around another bite. He loves the way your face lights up at the compliment.

“Yeah? You really like it?” you ask all sweet anticipation.

He leans in giving you a deep, sated kiss.

“Mm, definitely my favorite,” he murmurs. “Although, shouldn’t this say ‘best dicks ever’?”

He had been expecting to see maybe a simple Happy Birthday, instead he was endlessly amused to see Best Dick Ever piped across the top of the cake.

You bury your face into his neck and laugh. The sound makes him chuckle too.

“Well, I’ve still got extra frosting,” you say pulling away to grin up at him, “That’s something we can make happen.” You jokingly move to get out of bed.

He makes a dissatisfied grunt as he pulls you back to him, “Don’t you even think about get out of this bed.”

You look pleased as you nestle into him, tucking yourself even closer against him, “Don’t think my legs would work anyways, you fucked me too good.”

“Damn right, I did.” His tone is all smug pride as he leans down to kiss you.

“Happy birthday, Bradley,” you murmur against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Thank you for everything, honey, this was the best day.”

According to the clock, his birthday has been over for one hour and forty-seven minutes, but you will always be the best gift he could have ever hoped for.

Happy Birthday, Rooster! Thank you for your slutty little waist and your slutty little strut and your slutty little shimmy. Here's to the man who launched 1000 fics and all the THOTS.

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @laracrofted for letting me spam them with the chaos that was this story. You both are the real MVPs.

You can read more of my fics here!

#here have a bradley 🎁#thank you for reading and reblogging friend!#the babe with the birthday plans

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marvels-writings · 4 years ago

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Dreams

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by: hi! i love your imagines and i was wondering if you could do a natasha or carol imagine where the reader is their wife and is pregnant but hasn't told them yet, the rest of the team don't know about the reader so when the reader arrives at the tower the avengers attack her but because the reader was an agent as well she fought well and was winning when nat or carol come down and tell everyone to stop, the reader than asks if this is a good time to tell her that she is pregnant thanks! <3

Word Count: 1.5k (fluffy)

A/N: Y’all i finally got inspiration back, updates will still be a tiny bit slow, but I think you’ll like this fic

The test lay upside down on the sink, the timer on your phone next to it; ticking off every second that went by. You paced around the bathroom, from one side to the other. You bit your fingernails, an awful habit you meant to put a stop to. But found it hard to at this moment.

This was your third, no, the fourth try. Every failure brought you closer to giving up on this golden dream you'd crafted with Natasha. This idea that you might have children of your own to raise in a large house in the suburbs. To be domestic and at peace with your life.

That chance seemed further with every test.

You jumped as the timer buzzed loudly on the side of the sink. Hurriedly, you switched it off and turned the test over. Your eyes widened as you dropped the device on the ground. It clattered dully as a grin covered your face at the result.

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Grinning, you grabbed the test to rush out to show it to your wife. You stopped quickly, remembering she was at the Avengers compound. Instead, you picked up your phone, texting her a picture of the test, and trying to call her. No answer.

She needed to know, even if that meant you had to go down to the compound yourself and tell her. You knew she was adamant about keeping you away from her work life, not wanting to involve you in a work that seemed to bring the horrors of her past with the threats of the future. You didn't blame her for wanting to keep you away, even though it was hard not meeting the people she risked her life for.

Debating it in your head, you eventually decided to go tell her. You quickly grabbed your coat, and at Natasha's common insistence, a knife in your jean waistband. The knife would probably be a bad idea in a few months, but you'd rather not be caught without it, for now at least.

Trying to call her one last time, you rushed into your car and began the drive there. The apartment wasn't too far from the compound, not too far from where you worked either. You'd wanted somewhere that both of you could go to work easily from, Natasha had wanted someplace where she could get to you faster.

It worked, but you needed to find a bigger house soon. Maybe somewhere near a lake, or some scenery, so you could go hiking or swimming with them. You could teach them how to swim for the first time, Natasha could teach them all the stars in the sky and the stories behind them.

So many dreams, you wanted them all now that you had the chance.

A bright grin was on your face the whole ride t the compound, barely fading as you walked into the compound. The receptionist greeted you with a supportive nod, knowing you were a SHIELD agent. You flashed them a bright smile as you made your way towards the living areas.

Surprise filled you when you didn't see anyone from the team around, walking through till the common room until you finally saw someone. He wore an army green t-shirt with jeans, casual as he walked around. You greeted him with a smile, about to move past him to find Natasha. He had other plans though, frowning before slamming his hand on the alarm beside him.

"Sam, right?" You asked, stepping back as the sound of the blaring alarms filled the air. He stepped away from you, taking a fighting stance, assuming you were a threat. You laughed at that, the mere idea you would come to attack the home of the country's heroes.

"How do you know my name?" He asked defensively as the other members of the team began to trail into the common room at the commotion. You groaned when you realized they all thought you were planning to hurt them.

Not given a chance to answer his question, you stepped aside to dodge a shield you already knew was coming your way. The move surprised them, Sam quickly moved forwards to attack you, kicking near your head. You batted his leg away from you, throwing him off balance before picking up the shield to throw it back at Steve.

Only half the team was here, Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Tony. All of them equally surprised and apprehensive of your arrival. None gave you the chance to talk as they began to attack, thinking you were hostile. Steve grabbed the shield again to throw it at you, surprised when you dodged it and kicked it towards Bucky.

Out of breath, you panted a little while you waited for them to catch their balance. All the while there was a small smile on your face, imagining their reaction once they found out who you are, especially why you're here. For now, you needed to focus on the suit Tony had summoned into the living room.

"I'm not who you think I am." You breathed, ducking a punch sam tried to send your way, throwing him off balance with a kick to his side. He flinched back, pausing at your words. The rest of them stopped with him, waiting for some answer.

"Who are you?" Steve asked, his shield set firmly in front of him. You opened your mouth to answer, closing it when you realized hardly any of them would believe you. Instead, you chose to show them the wedding ring on your finger. You were ready to provide an explanation when someone spoke from behind you.

"She's my wife."

A grin formed on your face as Natasha came to hug you from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know it was her, merely tilting your face so you could kiss her cheek. Her hand interlaced with yours, her wedding ring matching yours for proof you were sure they didn't need.

Her grip around you tightened as they lowered their guard, greeting you and apologizing for trying to fight you. Her hand was placed firmly on your back as you talked them, wanting to keep you for herself. It was a bit selfish of her not to introduce you to them, wishing to keep you away from this life as much as she could.

Now she could see it wasn't her decision as you proudly showed off your ring, laughing at the stories they told you. Your smile was so bright as you introduced yourself as her wife to everyone who came into the room. She nodded at the surprised glance they sent her, smiling along with you.

It was no secret to you that she had been scared to introduce you to them. Natasha knew that they could never scare you off, nor take you away from her. Not even the heavens could divide her from you. She feared that you might not want to be with her anymore. Maybe you might leave after seeing in person the kind of life she leads.

Now, she knew you won't.

Not when your hand squeezed hers tightly, not when you sent her smile after smile, joy clouding your eyes. Not when you eagerly told them stories about your relationship, proud to be hers. You couldn't leave her, not when you loved her the way you do.

"So why now?" Tony asked, curious as he chewed absently on a toothpick. You grinned brightly, turning to Natasha, hesitance clouding your features quickly. She gave you a supportive nod, hoping you would explain your unexpected, but welcome appearance.

"Is now a good time to tell you?" You asked, nodding towards your stomach, hoping she would get the idea. You knew she didn't by the way she tilted her head to the side curiously. Biting your lip tightly, you weren't sure if she would be okay with telling the rest of the team.

She's spent years hiding you, you didn't know if she wanted to hide the new arrival to your family.

Still biting your lip, you tugged her arm closer to you. Getting the hint, she leaned her ear closer to you so you could whisper. The entire team leaning closer, straining to hear the reasons you had to share.

"I'm pregnant," You whispered, her hand freezing in yours, her eyes widening as her she turned around to meet your eyes. Her eyes held so much doubt, looking up at you as if you held the world in your hands, ready to take it away at any second.

But you nodded, ready to give her the world she deserved.

She had never looked happier as she hugged you tightly, tears pooling in her eyes, her breath hitching as you laughed. Her dreams were so much closer, all because of you. Never had she even dared to think her dreams of a family might become true.

Now, as she told her chosen family excitedly about the expected new arrival, she wouldn't want anything else. She wouldn't need anything more than you by her side and the dreams you'd made together. The dream which would have remained hidden if it had not been for you.

A/N: Tell me what you think!! Comments, reblogs and ask are amazing!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova , @natalia-quinzel , @blackxwidowsxwife , @studies-styles , @procrastinatingsapphictrash , @mxxnmocha , @ladyeliot , @wandavixen , @blurryylines , @thewidowsghost , @wlwlovesreading let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years ago

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Something I'm not proud of: How pleased it makes me when comedians I like flatter their audience by saying we must be smart if we're listening to them.

I recently watched Stewart Lee's Alternative Comedy Experience, and I thought they sometimes went unnecessarily far into pretentious territory, not with any of the comedy itself, but with the way they talked about its place in the world. There was much talk about how this stuff wouldn't go over well at a normal Friday or Saturday night at a comedy club, in a way that's sort of ostensibly self-deprecating, but actually they're pretty much saying "my comedy is too smart for most audiences". I listen to it and think, oh come on, this is very good but it would be funny to almost anyone. But then I think of all the time I spent in comedy clubs pre-pandemic (which is a fair amount of time, since my brother does stand-up and I used to go see him a lot, his act is... decidedly not the sort of thing that would be on a Stewart Lee show), and I realized that actually, it would be pretty outside the norm if Josie Long got up at my local comedy club and did ten minutes on socialism between sets. So maybe it is fair that the comedians on that TV show cast themselves as not very palpable to a mainstream comedy club crowd.

Anyway, when they did that thing on Lee’s TV show in which they sort of made fun of themselves for being niche but were really sort of backhandedly bragging about being smart, they were also sort of making fun of their audience for being nerds but really sort of backhandedly calling us smart. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that a bit. Any part of me that enjoyed that even a bit is genuinely among my least favourite parts of myself, an indulgence in smugness that’s a true guilty pleasure and really it’s not a large part of me, and in my defense, I got a lot of shit for nerdery in school and therefore have the right to enjoy this now. That defense would make me feel better if it weren't also the defense of every nerd-identified insufferable asshole I've ever met.

What made me think of this is that I just heard Nish Kumar call me a criminal. Specifically, he called his fans "a pack of criminals", by saying he knows that being outside Britain will not stop anyone from finding his stuff that's only officially available in Britain, because the sort of person who's into his comedy is also the sort of person who’s good at illicitly finding media. I've heard him say things like that a number of times before, and every time, I do feel a bit pleased with myself. Like, yeah, Nish, you're right, you know me. Stewart Lee also has a bit on a DVD show about how it's less lucrative to be a smart comedian like him because his audience is full of people who are smart enough to pirate media, and Michael McIntyre doesn't have this problem. Which... yes, okay, I know, you're a comedian during the 2010s, you all fucking hate Michael McIntyre. No one has ever fully explained to me why he’s the worst thing in the world, but I’m not interested enough in the sort of thing he does to listen to any of his stuff and find out. But yes, Stewart Lee, you are probably smarter than Michael McIntyre.

Streaming and downloading media is a common practice that doesn't require any special level of intelligence, and that means it’s very silly that comedians flattering their audiences by complimenting our skills in that area does work on me a bit. I think I just like being part of the team - Team Pack of Criminals for Nish Kumar.

If I ever feel too pleased with myself for being into highbrow intelligent comedy, I can always remember the guilty pleasures I have besides the occasional indulgence in smugness, which is that sometimes I like to get drunk and watch Roast Battle UK and outtakes from Frankie Boyle-era Mock the Week (the outtakes being where they leave out that show’s occasional forays into intellectual merit, and just show Frankie finding contexts for the word “cunt” that make it even more offensive than it is on its own) and lately, old clips of late-night Edinburgh shows in which comedians do things like rap battle at each other (I make no apologies for how pleased I was to first find that bit of comedy history and I posted about it a lot at the time, the bit that makes it a guilty pleasure is how much fun I find re-watching that stuff while drunk). Oh, and Amstell-era Never Mind the Buzzcocks - it's been a while since I've gone back to that but that was a big one for a while in terms of bad shows I like to re-watch while drunk. I think I might just like watching people be assholes to each other, which makes me absolutely no better than people who are into reality TV shows. Sorry to let you down, Stewart Lee. Though to be fair, Stewart, you were on one episode of Amstell-era Buzzcocks, so you’re not that above it all either.

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wherevenusholdssomeofficespace · 1 year ago

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To the people in the notes in denial about the birth order of characters who are so close in age it literally doesn't matter who was born first. Where have I seen this before...

You do you but, not trying to ruin anyones fun but, stop stereotyping birth orders. It doesn't always work like that irl, doesn't have to work that way in fiction. Ferb does often act more mature but that doesn't mean he IS older. Heck, Ferb even seems more mature than Candace at times but that doesn't mean he's older. (Probably something to be said about inaccurately correlating quietness with maturity, and the Flynn's being high energy and reckless).

I just want to point out its a little short sighted to assign traditional birth order roles to the boys in particular. They're age difference is relatively negligible. (Their similarity in age is emphasised more than the slight difference). I mean, could you always tell when a kid was older or younger than you in school? Would you act any different to kids older or younger than you by a few months? Which is to say that the boys birth order has nothing to do with their relative maturity, how people treat them, or even who hits puberty first, so acting like Phineas can't act like the little brother in many ways while still technically being older erases an aspect of the boys unique dynamic part of which comes from them being step brothers.

Ferb spent the first few years of his life as an only child while Phineas was born a little brother so it makes sense Phineas would have the more intense little brother vibes while Ferb is a bit more independent. Kids also hit puberty at wildly different rates and not being bio brothers makes it very possible for them to be (physically) maturing at different rates. Being the same age means that they aren't given age specific treatment so there was never a reason for Phineas to act in an older sibling capacity or vice versa towards each other. (That's what Candace is for.).

Also just consider the possibilities. Phineas is the older brother, but Ferb's always taller and his voice is deeper. The situations that can arise.

Where's the humor in people incorrectly assuming whose older.

The humor in 15 year old Phineas looking like hes 12, talking about his 3 yr old baby brother and it turns out to be a teenager who looks like he's 18.

If Phineas is particularly babyfaced someone assuming Ferb is babysitting Phineas.

Ferb teasing his "little brother" who has to argue back that he's actually the older one.

Ferb going "You'll understand when your my age" to Phineas who argues back hes already older than him.

Wanting to cosplay a set of brothers but both wanting to be the older and taller one, Ferb's defense being he's taller, like said character and Phineas's that he's older and which is more important.

A little kid who insists Ferb HAS to be older because he's taller to Ferb's amusement and Phineas's continous frustration.

The boys teasing or arguing with each other lightheartedly and Ferb teaming up with Candace who sucessfully pulls the "stop picking on your little brother" card.

Phineas unsuccessfully trying to pull the "I'm older listen to me".

Candace and Ferb joking about middle child problems every time something inconvient happens to Phineas. (Also between Ferb being the step brother and Candace being significantly older, is there anything more middle child than not having some notable way to stand out among your siblings).

Conversely Phineas forgetting he's technically a middle child/older than Ferb and someone says something about middle children (maybe how they dont know many middle children) and then someone reminding Phineas that he's technically middle child.

Candace and Phineas teasing Ferb about being the baby brother while Ferb just looks at them unimpressed (especially once Ferb overtakes Candace in height).

Ferb joking how he graduated school, or did any important life accomplishment they shared, at a younger age than Phineas.

The unique dynamic of Ferb looking out for Phineas in an older brotherly way despite being technically younger due to Phineas's impusivity and recklessness.

The unique ways in which Phineas does take an older brother like role (getting him familiar with the US, interpreting for him, being the leader who Ferb follows).

Baby Phineas "teaching" Ferb how to be a younger brother.

Baby Phineas trying (and failing) to be a cool big sibling to Ferb, because he's trying to be like Candace.

Phineas getting his learners permit first and Ferb having to ride in the backseat through Phineas's first lessons, before he gets his permit and is already doing better despite Phineas driving longer. (Not that I think either will have a problem).

Later Phineas getting his license first and driving Ferb around.

Flynn-Fletcher kids adult heights reverse of their birth order.

Middle aged Ferb calling Phineas an old man despite the negligible age difference.

Ferb alluding to a time travel incident that may or may not have made him older than Phineas. He'll never know for certain.

Ultinately you do you. I understand if you got attached to your youngest child Phineas headcanon. There really is no way of knowing without being told. But don't deny the canonicity of Phineas is older just because they don't fit boxes. The boxes weren't made for this situation.

I love how the only people who know that Phineas is canonically older than Ferb is those who are absolutely insane about this show even though it is literally told to us in show. And even then most people still don't realize Phineas is older.

On a basic level, Dan has given us word of god that Phineas is older.

Which seems pretty straight forward until he contradicts how much older Phineas is with giving us an exact date for Ferb's birthday, that is in no way two months after Phineas's Summer birthday.

More recently, Phineas being older has been reinforced by promo material. Though I don't think anyone is really taking promo material as the end all be all.

But in all actuality, Phineas is stated to be older than Ferb in show way back in season 1.

"Little brother, I remember when you first came home Then came another Little brother of our own."

The our in "Little brothers" is clearly referring to both Candace and Phineas. Phineas is the first little brother, and Ferb, when their parents married became little brother of both Candace and Phineas.

Granted if you aren't paying attention it's easy to miss, and easy to dismiss due to the convoluted nature of the fact this is a song Stacy sings, from Candace's viewpoint, in Candace's dream, inside Perry's dream. But I don't think there's any reason for the writers to mislead us on this particular information, and it stands to reason that Perry should know who is older.

An argument could be made that none of this information is particularly reliable, but it's all pretty consistently pointing to Phineas being older. How much older exactly is up for debate, but ultimately I don't think it matters whether its 2 months or 8. But I feel pretty confident in stating Phineas is canonically the older of the two. But like its so funny to me how that this is stated in show all the way back in season one, but even now its treated as some secret word of god level knowledge about the show. But no. It's there in text. They say it.

But the real secret lore we can get from this though is the fact that Phineas is on the older side of his grade. After all, if he and Ferb are considered the same age, they should be in the same grade, which means that Phineas is one of the oldest kids in his class. Candace also has a summer birthday, which means that she is also probably on the older side of her grade if Linda was consistent, which we could probably extrapolate from Linda saying that Candace wanted to be the first of her friends to get her license. Assuming her friends are all in her grade, that comment makes a lot more sense if she's older than most of them. (Which suggests she's an incoming freshman).

This would also make Phineas 19 in AYO, which kinda backs up my headcanon that Phineas is 9 turning 10 in the series. AYO taking place 9 years after series end and Quantum Boogaloo taking place roughly 21 years in the future. Not that the timeline is even slightly consistent, but I'll take what I can get.

#This is taller younger sibling erasure #And childish older sibling erasure #Mostly joking do whatever you want #actually you know what #no I'm not joking #stop erasing the nuances of nontraditional family dynamics #stop defining sibling relationships purely in terms of older and younger #its reductive and does not reflect all siblings #especially those of similar ages #if you had preexisting Phineas younger headcanons cool #but don't act like's his vibes have anything to do with his birth order

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wheelsup · 3 years ago

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the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

thank you so much for being on my taglist 💕

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #mgg

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mviswidow · 4 years ago

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falling

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Prompt: i was wondering if i could request an imagine?? it’s kind of based off of harry styles’ song ‘falling’ whereas the reader accidentally admits she’s in love with wanda and wanda, having gone through so much heartbreak, pushes the reader away as she’s too scared to get involved with someone again, as all she’s known is loss. so, the two separate a bit until thor talks to her about it because he, too, has shared a lot of heartbreaking moments and shit and it’s not until she’s drunk (lyric: “I’m in my bed, and you’re not here  And there’s no one to blame  But the drink in my wandering hands.”) she realizes the mistake she’s made and goes to find the reader to tell them she’s in love with her too :( IT’S SOME REAL ANGSTY SHIT BUT I FEEL LIKE IT COULD BE SO GOOD. LMAOO. <3 - @cierrascorpse

Summary: R confesses her love for Wanda. Despite loving her back, Wanda pushes her away, but is convinced to go to R after the two of them have avoided each other for far too long.

A/N: this is my first songfic!! it’s ‘Falling’ by Harry Styles, in case you want to listen to it.

“You’re back!” You ran over to Wanda and hugged her, heart fluttering when she hugged you back tightly.

When you pulled away, she had a bright smile on her face even though she still looked sleepy.

“Good morning, Y/n,” She chuckled, opening the fridge to get milk for her cereal.

You smiled and grabbed some fruit before sitting on the kitchen barstool and spinning around once or twice, “How did your mission go?”

“Eh,” Wanda shrugged with one shoulder and stuck her spoon in the bowl, nudging her cereal around.

“What happened?” You frowned.

“Nothing, I just made a mistake. Steve’s kind of mad at me,” Wanda sighed, looking up and seeing you with your eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t paying attention and I almost got shot, I got lucky that Steve was watching.”

“Oh my god, Wanda, you have to be more careful.”

“I know, it was just an accident-”

“We don’t have room for accidents. You know better than to make careless mistakes,” You interrupted, shaking your head.

Her brow furrowed, it was weird that you were getting so worked up like this, “Yeah, I do know, and I obviously didn’t almost get shot on purpose, so if you’re going to be like this then I’d prefer you just back off.”

You scoffed as your eyebrows shot up, “Why are you being so defensive about this?”

Her voice raised, “I just don’t get why you care so much-”

“Because I love you!”

Wanda’s jaw snapped closed and she noticeably swallowed before nodding, “I’m going to have breakfast in my room.”

“Wanda-”

“I don’t think us being friends is a great idea, Y/n,” She spoke softly, trying to keep eye contact for as long as she could.

Tears welled in your eyes and you pushed off the bar stool before making your way out of the kitchen, “Fuck you, too, then.”

---

From then on, the two of you didn’t talk unless absolutely necessary, which basically just meant missions and the occasional odd day where you had to talk to each other for something regarding the team.

It hurt. Really bad. Even looking in her general direction made you want to cry. The team wasn’t oblivious to the fact that there was something going on, they figured it out pretty quickly and it didn’t take long for them all to have found out what had happened.

You ended up spending a lot of time with Natasha. You were already close with her before Wanda rejected you, but you became best friends after the fact.

Having to sit through meetings while sitting across from Wanda was excruciating. You willed yourself to get over her but she was constantly occupying your mind and you saw her every day, so that was pretty hard.

Wanda also felt horribly about the situation. She’d never dated anyone before, and she loved you a whole lot, but she knew the last thing you needed was someone like her to come into your life in such a big way and leave mess in her wake.

Her heart raced when you took more than a few seconds to respond to comms and she always found herself looking around for you while out on the field, just to make sure you were okay.

Two months after Wanda had rejected you, the team was pretty fed up with the two of you. They obviously cared about your feelings but you were both way too distracted on mission and careless mistakes were happening more frequently.

That was when Steve gave Thor his own mini-mission of talking to Wanda.

He knocked twice on her door, which had her looking up from her book and opening the door with a swift movement of her fingers, “Thor,” Wanda smiled softly. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you, about Y/n,” He said as he closed the door, his usually loud voice now quiet and calm.

Wanda’s heart clenched and she bit the inside of her cheek, “Is she okay?”

“Oh,” Thor was now realizing that he might have made it seem like you were hurt. “Yes, she is- well, physically- I mean, it’s complicated.”

Wanda quirked an eyebrow up. The usual eloquent God of Thunder now stumbling over his words like anyone else, “This is about what happened between the two of us, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” He nodded and looked towards the edge of her bed. “May I sit?”

“Be my guest,” She nodded.

“Steve and I were talking about you guys, honestly, the whole team talks about you. It’s been hard to watch you guys like this, but we see the way you still care for each other. I know that you’ve been through a lot, Wanda. Losing family is harder than words could ever begin to describe, I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness and that you can’t love the people you want to love. I see the way you look at her, we all do,” And eloquent Thor was back, apparently. “I just don’t believe you should let this pass you by. She’s a really special girl and she loves you a lot. I think you love her a lot, too, and I think you need each other. That’s all I wanted to say, I guess. I just hope you think about this more- maybe even talk to her when you’re ready, if you are.”

Wanda blinked away the tears in her eyes and nodded, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Thor left without saying anything else, and when the door closed behind him, Wanda pulled her pillow to cover her face and groaned. She laid there for a minute before getting up and walking to the kitchen in search of some kind of alcohol.

An hour and a half later, she was laying on her bed in pajama shorts and a red hoodie that you’d given her for her birthday sulking.

She had half a mind to cry, but she didn’t really like drunk crying, and she was far enough into the bottle of vodka for her judgement to be impaired, but not enough to not acknowledge that drunk crying was the worst kind of crying.

After months of being without you, she longed to be near you, to have fun sleepovers again, to sneak away from Tony’s parties to go up to the roof or to watch a movie, she wanted you to braid her hair and cuddle her at night and kiss her-

Before Wanda knew what she was doing, she set the vodka bottle on her nightstand and made her way to your room. She stood outside for a few seconds before knocking quickly so she couldn’t talk herself out of whatever she was about to do.

She could hear you laugh from inside your room, “Nat, did you leave something? You were here like- oh.”

Your smile fell when you opened the door and saw Wanda standing at the other side of it, “Do you need something?”

“I’m so sorry,” Wanda said, her voice breathy, her face flushed, that stupid hoodie that made her look adorable, and her hair tied back into a lose ponytail that was so messed up that it could probably barely even be called a ponytail anymore. But you could tell she was drunk.

You had to stop yourself from scoffing, “Well, you’re two months too late, Wanda.”

“I love you.”

“Don’t do this now,” You shook your head, tears now brimming your eyes. You didn’t want to put up with this when tomorrow things would be back to how they had been.

“Y/n/n, I’m serious. I love you so much,” And tears of her own threatened to spill. “I feel so guilty, as I should, but I just- I was really scared, and I thought that I was going to fuck things up for you, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I love you. I’ll say it a million times if that’s what it takes to convince you. I want us to happen.”

You sniffled and wiped away a tear that was starting to run down your face. All of a sudden Wanda was starting to sound really sober. “You promise?” Your voice broke, and you bit your lip, willing yourself to not make any noise.

“I swear to you that I love you,” Wanda smiled softly, bringing her hand up to cup your cheek, wiping away another tear that fell.

You leaned into her touch and closed your eyes for a moment before opening them and being graced by a soft smile on Wanda’s features.

“I would love to kiss you now but I want it to be good and not when I’m kinda drunk, so can I just sleep in your room tonight instead?” She asked hopefully, longing to hold you.

“Please,” You nodded and stepped forward, hugging her for the first time in two months. “I missed you so much.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda pls marry me #songfic #falling by harry styles #wlw imagine #sapphic #wlw #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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crumbledcastle28 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 16: An Understanding

Warnings: this one really isn’t bad, just a droid death and sappiness.

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone who has supported this. We are almost there!

(If this is your gif please lmk!)

The sweet moment between the three of you was quickly ruined by a distant explosion, so the Mandalorian woman quickly rushed you all out after she quickly gave Mando a gift.

A Mandalorian jet-pack.

You had seen other Mandalorians use them in the past, and Mando seemed incredibly honored to have one, so if Mando was happy, you were happy.

The team followed the tunnel towards the smell of sulfur, trying your best to track the lava flats. You didn’t have much of choice. That was the only way out.

As you walked down the tunnels, you held the sleeping child in your arms, keeping him close to you. Mando walked next to you, stealing glances at you as you walked. You would glance back, but he would always face forward once more, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t starring. You would always smile at him when he would turn away, obviously embarrassed.

Who knew you could make a beskar covered warrior like that be embarrassed?

You felt at peace. At home. For once you actually had one. You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. It’s like your anxious brain and beating heart finally subsided. Like your body relaxed, and you had nothing to fear. Sure, the team was still stuck in these tunnels and the exit would be swarming with stormtroopers, but you had backup. A team. A clan.

It felt like a new start.

Once you finally made it to the river’s edge, a boat was leaned up against the land. It had obviously seen better days and the droid inside hadn’t been used in a long time.

Great.

Mando and Karga tried pushing the boat, but that did no use, so Cara raised her rifle and shot the boat free from the hardened lava.

You smiled at her and chuckled, thinking about the fact she had outsmarted a Mandalorian and a well known Guild member. You were not surprised in the slightest.

You could’ve sworn she laughed back.

Everyone climbed into the boat, and by some miracle, the droid inside sputtered to life. It stood up, raising its paddle and dropping it into the orange liquid beside it. It then said some droid gibberish, which IG-11 presumed was a request.

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG said.

“Downriver. To the lava flats,” Karga said, and the droid set to paddling.

Mando was to your left, while Cara was at your right. The child had woken up once more, using his energy to chew on your thumb. Mando brought his hand up to his helmet, activating the thermal scanners.

“That’s it,” Karga yelled, pointing to the growing light coming from the end of the tunnel.

“We’re free!”

It had been a long time since you had heard something like that.

“No,” Mando said, squashing your elated mood.

“Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we are coming.”

“Stop the boat,” you said sternly to the ferry droid. The droid, however, gave no sign that he actually heard you.

“Hey,” Cara said firmly, walking up to the droid.

“She said stop the boat,” she said before shooting the droid’s head off.

You appreciated Cara’s act of defense for you, you really did, but it didn’t do any good. The boat kept moving.

There was no other way. You had to stand and fight.

You pulled your longspear from your back and tucked the child deeper into your arms. You had fought stormtroopers before, why would this time be any different?

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG said, and you turned your head to look back at him. Your confused expression accurately represented the feelings of the rest of the group as well.

“This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower pal,” Mando said in reply.

“You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” said the droid. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What?” you asked the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

The droid looked at Mando and said, “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“No,” Mando said, moving closer to the droid.

“You’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” the droid said, now looking at both you and Mando.

“But you will be destroyed-” you began to say.

“And you will live,” IG said. “I will have served my purpose.”

He looked to Mando and said, “There is nothing to be sad about.”

“I’m not…. sad,” Mando said, but you were no where near convinced. His voice was the only way for you to humanize him, and emotions were very easily traced on the voice. When you can’t see someone’s face, the voice is all they have. You had gotten good at that.

It seemed IG had gotten good at it too.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice,” IG said before coming to the child and brushing his hand along his forehead.

No matter how little Mando wanted to deny it, the droid was your saving grace.

The droid then stepped into the boiling lava, and started making its way down towards the exit.

You watched the droid with wide and curious eyes. You had never seen a droid be so… selfless. You had always seen droids as mindless robots who only acted out of survival, but this one gave its life for you.

You wished you could repay him somehow.

When the detonator on the droid finally exploded, the child in your arms lifted his ears and watched. Even though the droid had been there for a small time, he was still the reason you and the child were alive. It seemed like the kid was loosing a friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes, and you wished you could take it all away from him and put it into your own.

Once the boat finally drifted into the tunnel, you saw the bodies of the stormtroopers on either side of the bank.

Maybe this actually… worked?

But, like many… many… times before, the scream of a tie fighter ruined all chances of an easy departure.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted before raising her blaster and shooting at the aircraft. Mando and Karga immediately joined her, while you used your longspear to shield you and the child from any blaster fire.

The ship’s canons rained fire on the group for a couple seconds before the ship went roaring completely over your heads.

“He missed,” Karga said in relief.

“He won’t next time,” Mando said. The ship was already starting to turn back around.

“He mentioned he knew you,” Mando said to you, referring to when he was trapped in the town not even an hour before this.

“Yeah….” you said.

“I’ve pissed him off,” you chuckled out, and Mando looked at you with a breathy laugh as well.

“Hey,” Karga said suddenly. “Let’s have the kid do the magic hand thing.”

Oh great, you thought to yourself.

“Come on baby! Do the magic hand thing,” Karga said to the kid while wiggling his fingers.

The child only giggled in your arms and waved back, and you let a light chuckle come out of your nose.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga said.

“I’m not,” Mando said, turning around to get the jet-pack from the boat.

You watched him walk away with a slight smirk on your face. You believed in Mando more than anyone, and you prayed he had enough training to know how to use that thing.

You saw the tie fighter making its way back to you through the corner of your eye, but you continued to watch Mando. He attached the pack to his back and then locked eyes with you before shooting into the sky like a rocket.

You watched him with a beating heart as he flew right in front of the tie fighter, allowing it to go under his feet. He then hooked his grappling cable onto the wing and used the jet pack to propel himself onto the cockpit window.

Even though you were scared out of your mind, you still managed to smile at the sight above you.

Your Mandalorian was incredible.

Mando’s blaster did almost no damage to the cockpit door before Moff Gideon jerked the ship to the left. The ship was starting to spiral, and your awe quickly turned into worry.

Mando was holding on with everything he had.

He all of a sudden let go and went soaring through the air. The left side of the ship completely exploded, which sent the ship careening to the ground. It burst into smoke on impact.

Barely a second later, your Mandalorian landed before you in a slight crouch, before standing to his full height.

The smile on your face said it all.

He chuckled slightly at your shocked and happy expression before taking the child from you and holding him in his arms. You walked to stand beside him and stare up to his face, proud and joyful.

You got a Mandalorian.

Karga and Cara stood before you two with equally shocked expressions

“That was impressive Mando,” Karga said. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

You grinned at Karga, enjoying his little tease.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asked.

“I think we cleared the town,” Cara said with a laugh. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying here?” Mando asked, equally confused as you were.

“Well, why not?” Karga asked. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando asked, and you once again giggled at his bluntness.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters,” Karga said with a bit of a chuckle.

“And perhaps”- he said while placing a hand on Cara’s shoulder- “this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.”

“And you, my friend”- he said while turning his attention back to Mando -“will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms.”

Mando looked to the child in his arms, beaming up at him with utter adoration. He then looked to you at his side, and you gave him a smile that said I’m with you. With whatever you choose.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing mattors at hand,” he said, turning his head back to the child.

“Well you better keep watch of this one,” Karga said to Mando while gesturing to you.

“She could take your place at the Guild in a second,” he says, while snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“And she would do a damn good job,” he says, and you laugh in reply.

Mando gives a slight nod in agreement which only makes you laugh harder.

You can’t recall ever laughing this hard.

“Y/n,” Cara says, and you divert your attention back to her.

She is trying to look at you, but she just can’t meet your gaze.

“Listen… I… I’m really sorry. The Empire hurt me a lot and I just couldn’t…” she chokes out.

You could tell she was trying to apologize to you. For when your identity got revealed, for doubting your loyalty, or anything in between. She was obviously struggling, so you decided to help her along.

“Cara,” you said, and her eyes met yours.

“Your reaction was perfectly understandable. Truly. There is nothing to be sorry for,” you say, and a flash of relief skates over her eyes.

“I just saw how you were with Mando and the kid today and I…. I owed you an apology,” she said, and you smiled at her.

“Thank you, Cara. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” you respond, and she smiles back at you. A genuine, relieved smile.

“As am I,” she says while leaning forward to caress the child’s ear.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara said to you and Mando. You gave her a respectful nod, acting as a promise that you would.

“Or maybe,” Karga added, “it will take care of you.”

You looked to Mando with a light smile, and you could tell he was grinning too.

The weight of guilt and shame had been lifted off of you. The people you cared for most forgave you. They looked at what you did right in the eyes, but looked past it, and saw you. You were sure it would take some time for them to completely trust you, but they were willing to try.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

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#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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sendouakira · 3 years ago

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A comprehensive essay on the effects of Sakuragi Hanamichi on Rukawa Kaede from Slam Dunk

Over the years, there have been quite a few rivalries portrayed in great detail between “dual protagonists” from famous shounen manga. Yet the relationship between Sakuragi Hanamichi and Rukawa Kaede from the most influential sports manga Slam Dunk was and still is regarded as “the gold standard” for this particular type of dynamic. However, as great as the bond that these two share, it’s puzzling that there seems to be a greater focus on the impact that Rukawa has on Sakuragi. I have read some analyses that even claim “Rukawa, at best, thinks of Sakuragi as a really hard-to-get-along-with teammate,” or that, “Sakuragi only helps Rukawa build better teamwork to some extent”.

In this essay, my goal is to explore the natural progress of the relationship between these dual protagonists as well as the apparent development and growth of Rukawa Kaede as a character after he meets Sakuragi Hanamichi. For the purpose of this essay, I will focus only on Rukawa Kaede’s perspective as the effects that Rukawa has on Sakuragi deserve another essay entirely.

The first thing that we all need to agree is that, we, as readers, rarely have a chance to know what exactly Rukawa is thinking. Even when he does open his mouth, he has nothing but nasty things to say which may make him look detached and distant (minus very few instances when he actually encourages Sakuragi). We always get a glimpse of other characters’ internal turmoil, their struggles and emotions such as Mitsui’s regret, Akagi’s memories, or Sendou’s plan. But Rukawa is always this mysterious character who never truly reveals his thoughts and his intentions to the reader. This is precisely why he is often misunderstood as a cold person, or that the relationship between him and Sakuragi is overrated.

If we look at the early dynamic between the two, we can see that Rukawa indeed doesn’t care about Sakuragi. “An annoying teammate” is likely how he would describe Sakuragi.

Slam Dunk chapter 20, when Sakuragi is learning how to do a layup shot, Rukawa shows annoyance as he is forced to teach Sakuragi the techniques.

If his senpai is not there, he would not lift a finger to help Sakuragi.

Similarly, he’s again put on the spot and has no choice but to teach Sakuragi how to defend in the practice match with Ryonan (Slam Dunk, chapter 43).

Or in Kainan match, Rukawa instructs Sakuragi what to do as they are the first to arrive for defense.

Initially, Rukawa really has no interest in helping any of his teammates improve, let alone Sakuragi, even though he instinctively understands that the improvement of his teammates benefits him and Shohoku as a whole.

In the early stage of Slam Dunk, Rukawa doesn’t have any regards for Sakuragi whatsoever, even if he does give Sakuragi guidance from time to time. The only reason he does it is because he’s forced to do so, and he only guides Sakuragi enough to help Shohoku win since he himself wants to win as well.

So when does the shift in his attitude towards Sakuragi take place? In actuality, it’s a gradual, slow process. It starts with his encouragement for Sakuragi. Note that he doesn’t encourage anyone on his team. He may recognize other teammates’ abilities and talents but still, the only person who has this “privilege” is Sakuragi alone.

Let’s take a look at the first scene that Rukawa gives Sakuragi encouragment in chapter 95, when Sakuragi is afraid of committing fouls in the match with Shoyo

Even if you argue that, in this scene, he only does it because not being able to catch rebounds seriously hurts Shohoku’s chance to win against Shoyo, such words from Rukawa are profound and unprecedented since this is the first time Rukawa actually acknowledges out loud Sakuragi’s ability to catch rebounds. But what’s even more interesting is another scene from the match with Shoyo.

While previously we saw Rukawa helping and encouraging Sakuragi just enough to help Shohoku win, the same interpretation doesn’t work here. Sakuragi is leaving the basketball court. What good does it do to encourage him now? In my opinion, this is the first time that Rukawa temporarily sets his ego aside to acknowledge Sakuragi’s talents, not just because he wants to win; but because Sakuragi deserves it.

Then comes our most favourite scene between these two, when Rukawa “consoles” Sakuragi after Kainan loss.

Again, we have no idea what Rukawa truly thinks. We only know that other Shohoku players never blame Sakuragi for passing the ball to Takasago of Kainan.

Let’s shift our focus to Inoue sensei’s intention of not showing Rukawa’s thoughts. It’s very clear that Rukawa is...planning something. The panel which shows his eyes only is subtext, and the underlying message is that Sakuragi is no longer the annoying teammate that he couldn’t care less about. Here, it is HIGHLIGHTED by Inoue sensei (Rukawa is being SINGLED OUT) in that one panel that he’s thinking about Sakuragi not showing up for practice.

We can only guess what’s going on in his mind at the time. Is Rukawa thinking about finding Sakuragi and confronting him about not coming to practice? I think not. A safer bet is that Rukawa is thinking about how to talk to Sakuragi about it, and the reason which leads me to believe so is this scene.

This is Haruko’s failed attempt to cheer Sakuragi up after the loss against Kainan. This scene is the key reason why she fails. She unintentionally confirms that it’s indeed his fault by saying, “even geniuses make mistakes sometimes.” Thus, Sakuragi is still stuck in the same thinking pattern that he is to blame.

It takes Rukawa, who understands a newbie’s feelings and who previously thought carefully about what to say to Sakuragi to cheer him up. Rukawa knows Sakuragi still thinks it’s his responsibility that Shohoku loses against Kainan, therefore, the only way to get him out of that thinking pattern is for Rukawa to assume that responsibility.

I firmly believe that this scene shows that Rukawa really cares about Sakuragi as a teammate. Everything may look coincidental, that Rukawa happens to see Sakuragi in the locker room, that he arrogantly takes the blame for the Kainan loss which so happens to cheer Sakuragi up. But it’s only on the surface. Rukawa has now from this point on, grown to care about Sakuragi.

The direct impact that Sakuragi has on Rukawa doesn’t stop here. Sakuragi always has his own way to rile Rukawa up like no one else can. We know that Rukawa loves challenges, and characters like Sendou Akira or Sawakita Eiji are the ones who can provoke Rukwa on the basketball court but it’s because Sendou or Sawakita are truly skilled players, so it is understandable that Rukawa would be provoked to go all out in order to defeat them.

However, why does Rukawa go all out in a one-on-one game with Sakuragi back in chapter 191? Is it because Sakuragi is so arrogant that Rukawa wants to teach him a lesson? Is it because he takes basketball so seriously that he must always do his best? Or maybe it’s his personality since Mitsui and Miyagi somehow know that he would not go easy on Sakuragi?

Again, we never find out why Rukawa does the things he does. The narrative on his thoughts is always left out, silent, mysterious. What’s true is that unlike Sendou or Sawakita, Sakuragi doesn’t have skills on par with Rukawa in order to actually demand him to give it his all. It must be something else in Sakuragi that has this effect on Rukawa.

There is another curious detail which I would like to point out. When Rukawa consults coach Anzai about his decision to go to the US, he is advised to stay in Japan to become the number 1 high school basketball player first before moving to the US. This matter is of Rukawa’s concern only, yet somehow Sakuragi is involved.

I have always asked myself this question. What does Sakuragi have anything to do with this? Actually, a better question is: why does Inoue sensei intentionally let Rukawa become aware that coach Anzai values Sakuragi as much as Rukawa himself? Not to mention that Sakuragi is never brought up in his conversation with coach Anzai, but Sendou is.

Rukawa has shown us repeatedly that he’s actually impressed with Sakuragi’s raw potential, but this time is different. This is the first time Rukawa understands that in coach Anzai’s mind, the 2 of them are equal in terms of talents and it would be wrong to assume that Sakuragi is not regarded as highly as Rukawa himself.

Back to the question above: why Rukawa goes all out with Sakuragi in that one-on-one game. Is it because of what coach Anzai’s wife reveals to him, Rukawa now truly sees Sakuragi in a new light? I find it interesting that right after Rukawa’s flashback in the two pictures above, we have the match between Rukawa and Sakuragi in which Rukawa shows no mercy.

We will get back to this point later. Let’s move on to another important scene.

In the death match with Sannoh, when Sakuragi is hurt, Rukawa is perhaps the first person to notice something is wrong (it’s not clear if coach Anzai notices if first or if it’s Rukawa). Either way, he actually knows something is not right even before Mito Yohei.

By the time Shohoku meets Sannoh, Sakuragi has been playing basketball for only 4 months. In the span of 4 months, Rukawa has learned enough about Sakuragi to notice Sakuragi’s small slip of concentration, as if he’s been watching Sakuragi play all along.

Next, we have one of the clearest examples of how Rukawa truly feels about Sakuragi.

In this entire page, we see Sakuragi’s emotions, thought process, his flashbacks, and his gaze. But there is one panel that does not belong to his internal monologue: the closeup of Rukawa’s expression. I don’t think I have much to say about this panel. Rukawa’s worry is written all over his face.

Of course, this is not the first time Rukawa shows his worried expression like this. When Akagi leaves the court in the match with Kainan (chapter 105), he also shows the same reaction.

Or when Mitsui collapses in the match with Ryonan (chapter 180).

While it is shown that Rukawa is just as worried when other Shohoku regulars have to leave the court, it is important to note that he only shows this expression when an important player is hurt or injured. Rukawa may taunt Sakuragi for being a newbie, for looking clumsy; but just like Akagi or Mitsui, Sakuragi has earned this worried look from Rukawa as an important player in the Shohoku lineup.

And even more than that, it’s also hinted that Rukawa seems to be the person who understands Sakuragi the most as a fellow athlete.

The scene in chapter 270 which shows Hanamichi gundan (his loyal friends, including Mito who is his best friend) understand that Sakuragi has made up his mind, that he will not be persuaded to do otherwise.

And there is Rukawa who understands Sakuragi without the need for words.

Rukawa seems to know an aweful lot about Sakuragi, even more so than Mito Yohei when it comes to basketball. While everyone wants to convince Sakuragi not to come in, Rukawa is the only person that understands Sakuragi’s stubbornness without having to talk to him.

Finally, the infamous scene in which Rukawa encourages Sakuragi for the last time.

At first glance, it seems that Rukawa is only encouraging Sakuragi here. But on the 9th reading of Slam Dunk(yes, I have actually read the manga 9 times), I suddenly realized it may be deeper than that. This scene takes place right after Rukawa gives Sakuragi a compliment on his desperate attempt to win against Rukawa in the one-on-one game (chapter 191), which is also around the time when Rukawa becomes aware that coach Anzai values both him and Sakuragi equally.

I believe, this is not just encouragement. Here, Rukawa also indirectly acknowledges Sakuragi’s genius AND shows his willingness to pave the way for Sakuragi. He is no longer the person who is unwilling to guide Sakuragi, or to instruct him on the spot like what we saw above. After the suicidal save, Sakuragi has earned Rukawa’s respect and admiration as a fellow athlete. Rukawa now readily shows Sakuragi the way as long as he is willing to follow his examples. He always knows what’s best to do to cheer Sakuragi up or how to encourage him to keep going. He’s not the cold scoring machine that everyone hails him to be, but a caring teammate who understands Sakuragi well.

In conclusion, while it seems that Sakuragi has very little impact on Rukawa as a character, it’s actually the opposite. Rukawa rarely reveals his thoughts and intentions to anyone and initially, his method of communicating is unconventional in a sense that it always makes him look distant and detached. However, as the story progresses, Rukawa gradually becomes more sympathetic and caring towards Sakuragi. He shows his obvious admiration towards Sakuragi and eventually regards him as an equal.

#Slam Dunk #slam dunk manga #slam dunk anime #Sakuragi Hanamichi #Rukawa Kaede #kaede rukawa #hanamichi sakuragi #桜木花道 #流川楓 #King of sports manga #sports manga #inoue takehiko

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