#circulated-navy-times

[aaronjhill]

Happy birthday, Mr. Eskenazi.

[roosterforme]

Something to Talk About | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley knew the rumors were circulating. He knew his friends were talking. But he had known you for such a long time, and you were just friends. Because if something was going to happen between the two of you, it would have happened by now. Right?

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 1900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for a request. And also because mak-32 said Rumor by Lee Brice would make a good fic. Check out my masterlist for more!

"Hey, Bradshaw, where's your girl?" Jake asked with a smirk. "Haven't seen Yankee all night, and it's getting late."

Bradley shot him some side eye from his stool near the pool table. "She's not my girl. And as far as I know, she went out for dinner with some guy she met at the gym."

"At the gym on base?" Nat shook her head and laughed. "You know how those Navy guys are, Rooster. They only want one thing." 

Bradley rolled his eyes. "She can take care of herself."

"Hey, Payback," Nat called out. "Why do you go to the gym on base?"

"Pick up girls," Reuben replied without hesitation from the other side of the pool table. 

"See?" Nat said to Bradley. "And I don't believe you when you try to tell me there's nothing going on with her. She's constantly touching you, and you get a stupid looking smile around her."

"Just friends," Bradley muttered, taking a sip of his beer. He'd known you since flight school in Pensacola. He'd been stationed with you in Norfolk and Corpus Christi. Now you and he were both back at Top Gun. If something was going to happen between the two of you, it would have happened by now. "Just good friends."

"Friends don't undress each other with their eyes," Nat said, batting her eyelashes at him while the guys laughed. 

Bradley shook his head. He didn't undress you with his eyes, but it wasn't his fault that you were pretty. And you most certainly did not look at him that way. "She doesn't even date other aviators. And she once called me an adorable puppy dog of a man. Just friends."

"There she is," Jake drawled, and Bradley's head snapped around so quickly to see you heading their way. "Hey, Yankee, looking good," Jake called out. 

"Shut up, Hangman," you returned as you got close, but you were smiling at them. You always seemed to be smiling, but seeing you dressed up was a real treat. Bradley was used to you wearing flight suits and khaki uniforms every day. 

When Bradley stood, you walked right up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. "How was your date?" he asked quietly, trying to ignore the looks the others were giving him.

"He was so stupid, Rooster. He could barely string a sentence together. Just a dumb jock," you replied looking up at him with wide eyes. Bradley held you a little tighter; so maybe his feelings for you went just the tiniest bit past platonic. 

"Aww, give the guy a chance, Yankee Doodle Dandy. Maybe he's just not used to how pretty you are. Maybe he got distracted." 

You rolled your eyes at him. "You know I hate it when you call me that." But you were still smiling. "Wanna know the funniest part? He actually asked me when you and I broke up."

Bradley's brow creased. "You and I? Us?"

"Yeah!" you laughed. "Apparently there are rumors we're together. Crazy."

"Yeah... crazy," he agreed, rubbing your back through the fabric of your dress. "Why would anyone think that?" he mused out loud as you pressed your cheek against his chest. You sighed contentedly against him, and when Bradley glanced over to the pool table, he saw his friends all scrambling to pretend they weren't watching you together. 

"I have no idea," you told him softly. 

Bradley cleared his throat. "If this guy was no good, maybe you need to reevaluate who you're going out with, Yankee Doodle. That's like five duds in a row."

You groaned. "I hate it when you're right. I'm getting a drink," you announced. "Anyone need anything?"

Bradley watched as you and Fanboy walked away to get some drinks from Penny. But you kept glancing his way while you and Mickey talked. And maybe Bradley shouldn't be surprised that people thought you and he were together. The two of you had always been comfortable around each other. 

"Could the two of you possibly stand any closer together?" Nat asked, drawing Bradley's attention away from your legs in that short little dress that you had wasted on another shitty date.

He just shook his head. "Nah. She treats Mickey the same way she treats me." But Bradley was starting to have a hard time believing that. 

You and Mickey were a few feet apart, and you were smiling as he was talking animatedly with his hands. But you seemed to reserve a different smile just for Bradley, one that would make his heart ache a little bit if he ever saw you give it to anyone else. 

Nat laughed and patted his arm. "Yeah, okay," she said sarcastically. "I'm just saying, if you want these rumors to stop, the two of you are definitely going about it the wrong way. You look like you're already in a relationship."

A relationship. Bradley would know what the press of your lips against his felt like. He would know all about the needy sounds you made in bed. He would know how it felt to hold you all night. But he knew none of those things. Did he want to?

"Here you go." You were holding another bottle of beer out to him, nudging him in the chest with it when it took him a moment to return from his hazy thoughts of spending a lazy Sunday in bed with you. 

"Thanks, Doodle Dandy," he murmured, and the soft smile that found its way to your lips had him thinking about kissing you. He cleared his throat a few times before taking a sip of the beer and sitting down on the stool. "So, was your dinner at least good? If your date was a dumb as you said, I hope you got a decent meal out of it."

And then your smile was gone as you looked into your vodka cranberry. "We got seafood, and it was delicious. And I made sure to stay and order dessert after he made a comment about my size. He said he usually doesn't date girls with big hips, but I had a cute face, so he'd make an exception."

Bradley froze, gaping at you, and when you met his eyes, you looked so vulnerable. You never looked vulnerable. You were a fast talking fighter pilot who never put up with his shit. But you were also a woman with feelings that had been hurt by some faceless asshole who Bradley would gladly pound into the ground given the opportunity. 

"He's wrong, Doodle," Bradley said, reaching for you and pulling you closer. You let one hand rest on his thigh as you stood between his knees. "Well, not about your face. But the rest of it...he's dead wrong."

You shrugged and smiled at him. "Thanks, Rooster. I'll be fine. I realized he was an idiot before he even said that stuff." You sipped your drink while Bradley leaned in closer. 

"I think I have a solution for your problem, Yankee Doodle." His nose was just a few inches from yours, and now you were leaning one of those decadent hips against the inside of his thigh. Your hand slid an inch further up his leg, and he had to stifle a moan. 

"Which problem is that, Rooster?"

"These guys. These shitty guys keep asking you out, but you deserve a good one," he whispered, and your eyes dipped down to his lips. "One who would tell you how fucking perfect you are. You're fucking perfect, Yankee."

"Oh," you gasped softly. "Rooster?"

He smiled at your surprised expression. "Everyone already thinks we're together anyway. I mean, we can shut these rumors down, if that's what you want. Or we could keep everyone talking. You could probably get me to do anything you want, really."

"How.... hmmm," you hummed, rattling the ice in your cup and avoiding his gaze. But you weren't moving away from him. If anything you were creeping a little closer. "How would we keep everyone talking?"

Bradley stroked your chin with his thumb and tilted your face gently so your eyes met his. "I could kiss you... if you want."

You licked your lips and searched his face. "If you kissed me, would you just be feeding into the rumors?"

Bradley watched the movement of his fingers as he let them drift back along your jaw and wrap around to tease the back of your neck. "No, Dandy. I'd be feeding into this crush I have on you. Which is why I've never done it before."

Your eyes drifted closed as you tilted your head a bit, and Bradley's pulse went wild. Every alarm bell in his head was going off, warning him that he'd get his heart broken if you were only going to kiss him for fun. But he couldn't stop you, because he didn't want to. 

With a soft sigh, your lips met his, and Bradley instantly knew you and he should have done this sooner. Your kiss was sweet as your lips gently explored his. He pulled you closer, his firm fingers stroking up and down the back of your neck until your palm rested on his chest. He could feel the prickle of his mustache against your skin as he nibbled gently on your bottom lip. The soft noise you made spurred him on, but now you were pulling away, meeting his eyes with that same tentative look. 

Bradley could feel the cold condensation on his jeans where your glass had come to rest, but everywhere else he was so warm. He took your glass and his beer bottle in his free hand and set them down on the table behind him. "Come here, Doodle," he whispered, now tracing your cheek with his knuckles. 

Your arms went around his neck, and you were pressing against him, tucked snug between his spread legs. "I hate it when you call me that," you whined softly, pressing your lips against his a little rougher this time. It took everything in Bradley not to climb off the stool and push you against the wall when your fingers found their way into this hair. 

"No, you don't," he whispered, breaking the kiss to taste your neck. 

"No, I don't," you agreed. When his mouth returned to yours, you parted your lips for Bradley, and he tasted you there, too. He stroked your cheek, and you peppered his lips with soft kisses before you pulled away a few inches. "I liked that."

"So did I," he agreed with a laugh. "We should do that all the time."

You nodded and kissed his cheek, and then Bradley realized all the other aviators were staring at both of you with varying looks of surprise. Except for Nat. She was smirking.

When you glanced over your shoulder to see where Bradley was looking, you waved at everyone. 

"Are the rumors true then? You two are into each other?" Nat asked, casually sipping her drink.

You turned back and looked at Bradley with hopeful eyes and a grin. "Are the rumors true, Rooster?"

He wrapped his hands around your waist and nodded at the others. "Yeah. Rumors are true." Then he stood and pulled you against him, dipping his head down for another kiss while you smiled. 

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

Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me. And I hope @abaker74 finds a real life Rooster, because that's what you deserve!

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@xoxabs88xox

[mitsuyeaah]

misdemeanour.

— ran haitani x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), thigh riding, light bdsm (handcuffs), roleplaying (police officer!ran), mentions of alcohol use, pet names (princess)

a/n: inspired by that one ran photo that’s circulating right now. he’s so hot istg (*´꒳`*)

the loud bass of the music reverberated throughout the entire house, feeling every beat of it thumping inside your chest. you navigated through the dimly lit living room packed with sweaty intoxicated bodies, some of them moving against the music dressed in varieties of different costumes.

your friend, rindou, had hosted a costume party for his birthday. of course, as innocent as it sounded, the activities within the walls of his house were a complete contrast. It was wild to say the least. beer pong outside their lawn next to a keg stand, people doing shots at the kitchen island, couples making out somewhere private, people dancing in the living room, and more.

you were amongst the people doing some shots in the kitchen. your throat burned at the sensation of the hot liquid going down—tequila—, face scrunching at the bitter taste of the liquid poison. a round the kitchen island, there stood some of your close friends, rindou included.

there was one particular man that caught your eyes. The one standing right across you, dressed in a navy blue police officer uniform, topped with a police hat. his long two-toned hair were secured in two braids that cascaded down his chest. you noticed how the two of you seemed to always accidentally make eye contact amidst the chaos inside the kitchen. hisamethyst eyes lingering on yours a little too long before he looked elsewhere—you swore you could see a slight desperation in them. like he wanted something.

rindou had introduced the man earlier as his older brother, ran. he was indeed a gentleman, going even as far as extending his hand to shake your own.

throughout the entire time you were doing shots in the kitchen, you and ran had about more than 5 wordless exchanges through eye contact. you weren’t complaining though, he was very easy on the eyes but you just wished he approached you. “i’ll be right back! i need to go to the bathroom!” you yelled over the music, leaning over the table to let everyone know. “okay, you better hurry! we’re starting another round soon.” rindou yelled back.

you exchanged one last eye contact with ran, this time mustering up a small smile before leaving for the bathroom. you messily made your way to the bathroom, your head slightly spinning from the tequila shots. you managed to make it safely to the bathroom without tripping over anything or anyone by grabbing the walls for support.

after doing your business and washing your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your appearance—noticing how the strap of your costume had slipped off your shoulder. if you were being honest, this devil costume you had on was half-assed. only because you didn’t bother buying a new one and instead wore the only costume you already had.

you cupped your cheeks and let out a sharp exhale, feeling the burning temperature of your skin due to the amount of alcohol in your system.

you closed the bathroom door behind you but before you could even take a step, you found yourself trapped between the door and the man you’ve been eyeing all night, ran. the back of your head rubbed against the cool surface of the door as you craned your neck to look up at the tall man.

he was indeed more beautiful up close. little specks of dark purple scattered around his lavender irises. his soft pink lips looking a little too tempting. “o-oh! sorry! did you need to use the bathroom?” your breathing became uneven as you held his gaze, waiting for his answer.

he gave you a saccharine smile as he let out a soft hum that only you could hear. ran shook his head ‘no’ and leaned in closer to your ear. his scent engulfed your nose, it was sweet yet musky, just how you liked it. “you’re under arrest for a misdemeanour for being too fucking hot..”

your breath hitched. you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as his hot breath ghosted over the side of your neck, causing goosebumps. “wha—” “nuh uh.. place your hands in front of you like this.” ran jutted his hands out between you two, both his hands securely intertwined with one another.

doing so, ran skilfully secured your wrists together using the metal cuffs that hung from his belt loop. you slightly shivered at the cool sensation of it against your burning skin. before you could do anything, ran hooked a thumb on the chain that connected the cuffs and tugged your wrists above your head.

your hands were now bound over your head, resting against the door behind you. with one hand securely locking your hands above you, his free hand grabbed the baton, the tip of it resting below your chin to jut your face upwards.

“you think you can just walk around my house looking this delicious?”

you rubbed your thighs against one another, yearning for some kind of friction as you looked into his eyes. the desperation in his amethyst eyes mirrored your own.

ran noticed this and clicked his tongue. he swiftly pushed your feet apart to spread your legs and tucked his knee right at the apex of it, just where you wanted him. your breathing became erratic, your head spun at his strong scent, and you were wet.

how embarrassing, he hasn’t even done anything to you yet.

“sorry..” that was all you could mutter. at this point, your mind was going absolutely crazy, you partially blamed the alcohol for it. ran clicked his tongue once again, “you’re going to have to do better than that.. princess.” his lips ghosted over the side of your neck, tongue casually darting out to give a few kitten licks here and there.

you let out a shaky moan, not caring if the two of you got caught. no one probably even cared, they were all too wasted to do so.

ran chuckled against your soft skin, this time his lips fully making contact with it—brazenly sucking and licking at it, pulling more sounds from you. he absolutely loved how you responded to his mouth. a loud whine escaped your lips as he started grinding his knee against your clothed clit, skilfully moving it to increase your pleasure.

“oh fuck! aah—ran!”

you couldn’t help but move your hips against his leg. you wanted more. ran chucked his baton away and opted for using his hand to hold your chin up—his lips trailing wet, hot kisses toward your own. you almost melted right then and there at the sensation of his soft lips against yours, moaning at how desperately it moved.

ran didn’t shy from shoving his tongue in your mouth and moaning against it. fuck, it was filthy but it was so hot.

your knees buckled at this, a funny feeling running up your legs as ran keenly explored your mouth. good thing his leg was somewhat supporting you, if not, you were sure you would’ve fell to the floor.

everything was a haze. your mind spun, heart racing, ears muffling out the loud music, you were only focused on one person. ran haitani. as if reading your mind, ran finally let go of your wrists, the burning sensation in your arms dissipating as you dropped them back down. although, they were still bound together due to the handcuffs.

you grabbed onto the collar of his costume to keep yourself grounded, gripping the fabric in your hands until your knuckles turned white. ran pulled away to catch his breath, chuckling breathlessly at the way you craned your neck forward, chasing the presence of his lips.

“mmm, be a good girl and keep fucking yourself on my leg, princess.” ran groaned, cupping your warm cheeks to meet your gaze. you looked up at him as your eyes brimmed with tears, brows furrowed in pleasure as your clit rubbed against the fabric of your panties.

you desperately rut your hips, chasing the high that seemed impossible to obtain. “ngh! ran please..” you buried your face on his chest, whining. it was unsatisfying. every time you thought you were close, the pleasure suddenly disappeared and you had to start from the bottom again. it was your first time riding someone’s thigh and it frustrated you that you couldn’t reach your high.

“should i help my princess out?” he raised a brow, placing both his hands on your hips. ran bounced his leg and grounded your hips on his thigh, guiding it back and forth. you moaned against his chest at the sensation. the pleasure you felt from this was much greater, your clothed clit deliciously rubbing against his leg.

your whole body was slumped against ran. limp, helpless and at his very mercy. you weren’t even moving your hips anymore, ran took full control of it’s movement. he rested his chin at the top of your head, hands still carefully guiding your hips against his bouncing leg. “ngh—ah! shit..” tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks as you shut your eyes closed.

you were so fucking close.

“that’s it, princess. you can do it..” you panted heavily as your sweaty forehead rested on his collarbone. you could feel the familiar bubbling at the pit of your stomach and the way ever single muscle in your body tightened.

ran noticed the change in your breathing, frequent short whines that ended in a small moan escaped your lips. “fuck, look at me when you cum.” with the energy left in your body, you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him through your lashes—tears obstructing your view.

he cursed under his breath and brought a hand up, cupping your cheek and shoving his thumb in your mouth. you didn’t need to be instructed what to do, you swirled your tongue around his slender digit. moaning against the finger and you desperately sucked on it.

“such a naughty girl.. why don’t you cum for me? hm?”

you absentmindedly nodded at his command, your face contorting in pleasure as the knot inside your stomach finally snapped. ran removed his finger from your mouth and sealed the distance between the two of you, swallowing your moans.

your muscles stiffened and your eyes rolled back as you came, your fingers becoming sore form gripping at ran’s collar. ran didn’t stop moving your hips against his bouncing leg to ride out your orgasm.

fuck, you melted like wax against him. it was too good. ran shamelessly moaned into your mouth, mirroring the way you did to his own. several tears rolled down your cheeks as your cunt quivered in pleasure. you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath, your panties soaked and uncomfortably stuck to you.

“fuck..” you panted

“mhm, don’t think i’m done with you yet, princess. let’s go take some shots for now.” he kissed your forehead and untucked his leg from underneath you, earning a slight whine from you.

“careful, princess, you might get charged more than a misdemeanour. the punishment is much more severe.” he leaned into your ear and kissed at the sensitive spot just below it before heading over to the kitchen.

© mitsuyeaah

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: OUVERTURE

A/N: I'm sorry this took forever to put out, midterms are upon us and I wanted to give you guys the best I could. I promise to get you the next chapter in the coming week! Please enjoy this for now, and let me know what you think. Previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~2.4K

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT V

Nanami held Yuuji in his arms through the castle’s great hall, the child enthusiastically recounting the events of his tutoring session.

“And he said I can start archery soon!” Yuuji beamed, his eyes seeming to sparkle with the promise of future achievements. Nanami chuckled, placing a gentle caress over his son’s back “I know you’ll be amazing at it.” He offered, causing the child to nuzzle into him with a smile.

Before they were able to cross from the great hall into the corridor that led to their wing of the castle, the door behind them opened abruptly, causing Nanami’s senses to come to life, alert while he instinctively covered Yuuji’s body under his arms.

“There they are!” Haibara beamed, entering the room with his characteristic ease, his heavy sword clanking loudly against the armor on his hip.

Nanami relaxed his hold on his son, and as soon as Yuuji peeked over his father’s shoulders, he started flailing with unbridled excitement, as if asking his father to let him down. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he bolted towards the knight, who caught him with an impact that made him lose the air in his lungs.

“I swear you’ll be stronger than me by next year.” Haibara laughed, while Yuuji hugged him tight. “Uncle Yu! You’re back! How was the fighting? You won, right!?” The onslaught of questions left almost no time to answer, but Haibara tried his best to catch up with their speed.

Nanami watched them, expression relaxed and arms crossed across his navy robe, the gold embroidery seemed to shimmer under the rays of the setting sun that filtered into the room, catching in his hair.

“And hello to you too, your majesty.” the knight said, causing the child to giggle. Nanami rolled his eyes, but obliged “Welcome back Haibara.”

The trio finally walked out into the corridor, following its winding path as the spring air carried the fresh scent of the new bloom surrounding them. Haibara shortly recounted their victory at the border to the child, who drank in every word like he was parched for more. Nanami could not help the fond smile that graced his lips.

They eventually reached Yuuji’s room, where Nanami had planned on leaving him for his bath and a nap before the banquet. But the child vigorously protested being separated, clinging onto his father’s foot.

Nanami crouched down so he was at eye level with him, his hand going to softly tousle his pink hair “We’ll see each other in a bit for the banquet. You want to look and feel your best for the big party, don’t you?” He placated, and Yuuji accepted with a pout.

“Is the pretty lady going to be there? I want to see her again.” the king visibly stiffened, eyes moving to Haibara who watched them curiously.

“Yuuji we talked about this. You can’t go running around with strangers.” He sighed, his hand moving to rest on the boy’s shoulder.

“But she’s not a stranger! She lives here! I've seen her” The kid reasoned, the pout growing on his lips.

“Okay, okay we’ll talk about this later. Now go.” Nanami urged, standing up to walk away.

“See you tonight, little storm.” Haibara waved off with a wink, causing Yuuji to giggle in amusement before the maid guided him into the room.

Back in the coridoor, the royal knight began his detailed report about the expedition, staying close as the pair slowly paced through the wing with that held the royal quarters.

“There’s been a lot more activity at the Southern border than in previous years. It’s getting warmer and the more circulation there is, the more likely the attacks become.” The knight reported, his expression devoid of all prior amusement. “But we were able to wipe out their largest base and arrest most of the militia's leaders.”

“Good, we will have to question them about possible remaining strongholds and their methods.” Nanami commented, his hand resting on his chin in thought.

“It is very concerning that a group of rebels with seemingly no resources managed to cause so much damage to the port. It smells fishy.” Haibara added, matching the pace with Nanami.

“Buuuuuut,” he sidetracked, stepping in front of the king. Nanami looked up to see his friend's eyes round with mischief, and almost let out a sigh in anticipation for whatever he was about to bring up.

“Was Yuuji talking about your new wife?” he leaned in to whisper cheekily, akin to the way young maids would close in to gossip.

“You’re too old for this.” Nanami brushed him off, stepping aside to keep walking.

“Killjoy as always.” He said, but his words held no bite. “Anyway it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to talk about her since she’ll be at the reception tonight.” He gloated, his outer armor clinking when he rested an arm on his hip.

Nanami remained silent, his eyes fixed on the way up ahead.

“You sneaked away from the troops, didn’t you? I need to go welcome the knights.” He said.

“She IS coming to the reception tonight, right?” Yu raised a brow, completely ignoring his king’s concerns about the protocol.

Kento looked ahead wordlessly, and Haibara felt like maybe flicking his king’s forehead might be worth facing the risk of being condemned for a crime against the crown.

“Nanami Kento. Your excellency. My king. You cannot be serious.” He sighed, exacerbated as he stepped in front of him once again. “You know most of the aristocracy will be present at this ball, right?” He asked, brow raised.

“Of course I know.” Kento replied, still unfazed by his friend, who took a comically deep breath, his hand resting on his head as if to quell an impending headache.

“So what message are you hoping to communicate if she is not present?”

“That she is taking time to get accustomed to a new nation and would like to rest.” Nanami replied matter-of-factly, not believing further explanation would be needed.

Haibara rubbed along the bridge of his nose. “You’re communicating that you do not care about your wife’s absence.” He punctuated. “It’s one thing to not love her,” He crossed his arms over his chest “But I do not need to explain to you what happens when a royal is not cared about.” He continued.

Nanami was growing agitated with the conversation. He wanted to stand his ground and keep the distance, but the logical part of him listened to his friend. It was a tale that needed not be told anymore. A neglected royal was a target for people who coveted their position, and even worse, a potential weak link. If Kento did not show some modicum of care for her, there would be no strong deterrent for the rest of the aristocracy to stop their efforts to forge a relationship that benefited them. The king sighed, his fingers fidgeting with the golden rings on his fingers.

“I really hate when you are right like this.” Nanami admitted, to which Haibara chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. You might be well versed in strategy and leadership, but you sure can be dumb sometimes.” He commented, giving in to the urge and smacking his shoulder.

“Your men are waiting, let’s go.” Nanami straightened up, leading the pair back to the main courtyard to greet the battalion.

You were sat on your bed, shoulders relaxed against the headboard with a book in your hand. The melodies the pages sung to your heart soothed you in a way, helped you escape and forget about the turmoil of your predicament. A knock resounded on your large door, startling you a bit before Alma announced herself and pushed them open.

A fleet of servants followed behind her, and you couldn’t help but notice the buzz with which she directed them. They were carrying… clothes? And various pieces of jewelry?

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, and you approached them quietly.

“What is going on?” You asked, walking towards Alma while standing out of the way of everyone else, who were hard at work setting up camp at your vanity.

“My apologies for the intrusion, your majesty.” Alma said, her smile betraying her excitement. “His majesty has instructed us to help you get ready.”

“Ready?” Your mouth gaped “For the banquet?” You blurted out, incredulous.

“Yes, yes.” She said chipper “Come now, we don’t have much time left.” She extended a hand towards you, waiting until you grabbed onto it before she rushed you to the vanity. “We have a lot of choices, please tell us which one you would prefer.”

“With this celebration, we welcome back our most honored royal knights.” Nanami’s even-keeled voice announced from the atop the Dais, addressing the fancily-clad attendees. “May our troops continue to lead successful campaigns, and our nation stay protected.” He concluded, followed by claps and light cheers from the audience.

He returned to his seat overlooking the group, and Haibara approached him, his ceremonial armor heavy on his shoulders as he kneeled in greeting before the king.

“You did invite her, right?” He insisted as soon as he got within earshot.

“When will you stop doubting me?” Nanami raised a calm brow in response.

“When you’re going to give me reasons not to.” the knight chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully.

Nanami had hoped for you to arrive before he had to officially announce the beginning of the banquet, but he understood why you might delay because of the short notice. He was not even sure if you would want to come. Kaori never bothered with formal events, unless it was to flirt with new aristocrats or flaunt some new expense.

Stop, he told his mind. Stop thinking about it.

Well, regardless of your presence he still needed to carry out his duties. With the festivities begun, he walked over to the table around which the royal knights were congregated, and they welcomed him with formal bows.

It was while in conversation with them that the young prince was announced into the hall, and Yuuji walked to his father’s side, his usually unruly hair styled in a slicked side part. His dignified walk was contrasted with the wide smile his features held, causing the king to smile in turn. When he reached his father, he bowed, and Nanami hoisted the boy in his arms.

“You look very poised, son.” He commented.

“I know right!” He exclaimed, expression smug.

He was about to step away from the knights to go on about the tedious task of small talk with the rest of the aristocracy when another announcement resounded into the hall, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Her majesty, the queen.” the herald sung.

You were NERVOUS. TOO NERVOUS. Your fingers dances along the frills of your dress, hoping to dissipate some of the turbulent energy.

You were used to high society, having been to events as soon as you were of age. But this one felt decidedly different. Almost like a test, causing all your experience to fade in the background of your growing tumult.

As soon as you were announced in, you felt every gaze fix on you, and willed yourself to not look down. You took practiced steps, punctuated and elegant, like you had learned as a child.

Alma had helped you settle on a white dress, whose neckline dropped off your shoulders, lining your collarbones with a delicate lace outline, and a bodice that hugged your top section. From your waist down, the silky material flowed out, creating ripples like clear spring water. A single big sky-blue bow was attached to the back of the dress, and the gold jewelry sparkled against your skin.

The quiet looks turned into growing chatter, and suddenly the bangles and crystal pendant felt too heavy to carry. The urge to hide gripped you.

Absolutely not. You steeled your resolve, your gaze locking on the king, whose piercing amber eyes looked at you like he could see through you. A shiver ran down your spine. The gold of his robe seemed to shimmer against his skin, just like the crown atop his head, only contrasted by the white cape that draped across his shoulder.

You continue to walk calmly, until you reach a few feet away from the pair, and bow deeply in respect.

“Your majesty, the king.” You greeted, head still down.

“You may rise.” You heard his smooth voice rumble, and stood until you faced him.

Immediately you noticed the child in his arms, who smiled at you like a long lost friend.

“You’re here!” He announced enthusiastically, grinning with all his teeth. He asked his father to place his down, and the boy bowed in front of you, extending his hand which you took. He brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss, in a way that only a child learning a new skill did, making you giggle lightly.

You curtsied in return, heart warmed by the sweet gesture.

“My prince,” you say with a smile. “You look quite wonderful today.”

He proudly patted his attire, which seemed to be a mini version of what his father was wearing.

“Thank you!”

People surrounding you observe the interaction keenly, their mouths moving in a quiet hush of whispers. You tried to listen for what they were saying, but your mind was still quite occupied with the way the king’s eyes had not left you.

You were about to say something to fill the silence between you when the orchestra along the North wall of the large room started playing a string set, and you were faced with a strong hand open before you.

“Shall we open the dance?” The king asked, eyes focused on yours. You nodded, placing your fingers lightly over his, letting him lead you to the center of the floor.

Phew, I finally got this out. As always, please let me know what you think! I always love reading you comments :))

Tag list: @ofcqdesi @tomiokasecretlover @luvstama @amisuh @abhootghiihii

@cosmicbreathe @lucreied @starmapz @tylersaiddonteatbananas @taeteddybear

@bopsigles @flaneur002 @evans-dejong @lazypostfandomer

[midnightmayhem13]

Hii! Could I request the marvel ladies reaction to reader referring to them as her girlfriend for the first time <33

now i see daylight

this is so adorable! and ofc coming rightt up(ultra delayed post)

warning!- some suggestive bits(nothing specifically said)

Carol Danvers

once awhile, u and the girls go to a fancy jazz club. usually it's an excuse for you guys to dress up and get wine drunk and wake up feeling refreshed, albeit a lil hungover. this time, you and your lovely gf Carol go as a together. you wore a stunning navy blue dress and she wore a casual navy suit. Carol was drooling over you and she couldn't stop staring at you but you were also obsessing over ur sexy buff ass gf. you walk in hand in hand and go around the party talking to ur friends. you and carol separate for js a moment. when ur friends head home u sit there sipping ur drink alone and a man comes to sit next to you and start bugging you. "hey beautiful, you here alone?" "no im actually with someone" you answer sternly. thanks to Carols quick reflexes, you don't have to suffer long. she puts a firm hand on ur back and kisses the top of ur head. but thanks to the drinks he doesnt take the hint. "why don't u take me home dove; i'll show you want i can do." you and carol giggle. as she's about to say smt, you interupt. "actually" leaning into Carol, putting ur hand on her stomach as her hand goes over ur shoulder. "i'm gonna be taking my beautiful girlfriend home so you can go now." Gosh you've never looked sexier to carol. she honestly js starts fawning over you and lets out a THATS MY GIRL and hugs you super tight bc her heart js melted. you're so proud about being with her and she cannot contain the blush that's on her cheek. you two walk out (ur lipstick all over Carols face and neck) she's so giddy about the events that happened and cannot stop kissing u all over. it's like ur first date all over again and honestly, she can't wait to call u her wife!!

Darcy Lewis

Darcy is the smartest girl you know. and naturally as an Avenger you introduce her to Tony and safe to say he's very impressed with her and pats you on the back for finding such a brilliant girl. everyone likes Darcy too!! she makes you happy, she's hot, she's loyal, and mf is a Dr and an astrophysicist!! you always flaunt that. well when a big company asks the avengers to come work with them bc some sort of anomaly (think wandavision but no one's dead bc i said so) has accured and they need some brains and brawns. while tony and bruce alone were smarter than all of the companies scientists; they bit off more than they could chew. after a few weeks of all the scientists working at it, they only advance a bit. you go home and darcy comes over and you rant to her about it bc ur fed up. and suggest the idea of bringing her to help and she considers it. she spends the night so she might as well tag along and see what she can do. at first the companies big boss disregards her and even tries to push her away from the monitors. you grab his wrist "don't you touch her. and just so yk my girlfriend is smarter than all ur stupid scientists so i suggest you let her take a look so she can fix wtv ur men can't" Darcy is actually frozen to her spot bc that was so hot. the heat from her cheeks spread all the way down and she's at a loss for words. her face turns bright red and she nudges you too stop cutting the guys circulation off (she's well aware you'll break this guys arm for her). she thanks you and kisses ur cheek as she sits down. give her a few hours and BOOM. she's gotten to the bottom of the problem and has two possible ways to fix it, they both end up working. Darcy bugs about how much you brag about her. you give her a whole speech on why she's the greatest women ever as you hold her. she loves you with her whole heart and has never felt safer in her big bad avengers gfs arms.

Maria Hill

Even though Maria is always incredibly busy with Shield, and you with the avengers, you always find time to be together. but being women of high power has never been easy. that being said, both of you get looked down on even after showing ur skill time and time again. so you arrive at headquarters looking for your bad ass gf, carrying with you a few treats so she doesn't forget to eat. as you make ur way towards everyone they seem to be doing their usual thing. you could spot her from a mile away away. she's the most beautiful women you've ever laid eyes on. you approach her. her eyes land on you and her face immediately lights up. she greats you with a tight hug, a kiss on the head and then the lips. she's gotten more comfortable with being affectionate at work, you notice. "thank you baby" she says sweetly, completely contrasting to the harsh tone she uses with her troops. "i'll be back in a second" she goes to tell her most trusted troop to take charge as she steps out for a second. almost as if she cannot live in peace, a scrawny, insecure guy comes out of nowhere and starts complaining about Maria being off duty (who even is he) he starts causes a scene and honestly makes you laugh a bit. you two go to walk off to ignore him and suddenly the hoe grabs you!! yeahh maria is not gonna let this go. but when she goes to interfere but yank your arm away "my girlfriend has all of this under control so why don't you turn around and get back to work, the nerve of you!" Maria jaw is DROPPED. i mean she knew you could get serious but seeing her adorable gf give commands does something to her body. almost as if she's shy being in ur presence. she's sure she's never smiled bigger. you turn around and grab her had and guide her to the break room. she feels like she has a silly little school girl crush as she giddily follows you around.

sharon carter

(this is power broker sharon bc she's hot but no one's dead BC I SAID SO) To say sharon was kinda nervous about telling you about her job was an understatement. i mean you were an avenger but also the love of her life. it was a long talk but you got it to work. anyways you hung around a lot at her place bc hello?? it's huge and you love seeing ur hot gf do illegal ass things bccc she wasn't an avenger level threat (yet) so by ur logic, we're chilling. and she was on okay terms with steve, bucky and sam. when she hosts her auctions you're always welcome to come to them too! you want to be there just in case the worse happens, even tho she's more than capable of controlling it. but that doesn't mean you're safe from any guys or gals that want to hit on you. if they know who you are, you're okay but if they don't know who you are or have a death note they'll hit on you. usually you hang low or by the bar bc sharon's busy at these events. as you sip your favorite margarita you feel a tap on your shoulder. a security guard? "uhm hi can i help you?" you ask politely. unbeknownst to you sharon's watching (she always is) and heading her way over to you. the guards are specifically told not to speak to you unless u speak to them. she's possessive what can you say. "i'm not sure you're on the list your gonna have to step out" he says roughly grabbing ur arm and tugging you off your stool. sharon is basically bolting at this point. "my girlfriends the owner of this place and is the reason you buy ur meals so get off of me" you say and push him back. he's about to tackle you bc yk ego. until he sees an arm snake around your waist. oh sh*t. "get the hell out my house" sharon says and he gets escorted out. you'll probably never hear from him again. sharon grabs your waist and pulls you impossibly close to her as she places her lips on yours. "that was so sexy baby" she says on ur lips. her stern demeanor almost broke when she heard you calling her your girlfriend so proudly. it made her knees want to buckle and she felt like kicking her feet. she finally got the girl of her dreams and u guys were a match made it heaven. she can't stop thinking of this moment for months to come and definitely shows how proud she is of you later that night.

Nebula

nebula thought she was gonna be a lot of things in life. but never did she think she was gonna be the girlfriend of the most beautiful and kind girl in the galaxy. she seriously never expected to ever be blessed by your presence much rather be loved so deeply by you. although she's been weary of love her whole life, you've completely changed her perspective. you love her so deeply it's almost unfathomable. that being said, anything you guys are in a new planet and go explore you always make sure to stick to her side. who's gonna mess with ur big ass blue gf?? not to mention she's possessive with you and aggressive with anyone but you. she's also so gentle with her sweet girl. so you'd expect any on looker to stay away from you bc nebula likes to walk around with her hand on ur butt while holding you close. but when some weird looking dude approaches nebula immediately become alert but all he does is aggressively bump into her "hey watch where the hell your going u got ur dirty paws on my girlfriend!" you yell as you grab wtv the hell is on top of his (maybe hair??) and he has no other choice but to apologize to nebula. when he leaves nebula is left speechless. why are you so proud that ur dating her?she can't control herself tho and pulls you into an ally to passionately make out with you. that was so hot. she lifts you by ur butt and presses you against a wall. you giggle and pull away as she chases ur lips "what's with this nebby?" "i love you." she says hoarsely. she didn't know how to respond to the whole situation. she couldn't care less about what the guy said or didn't say. but you loved her so much and we're so open about it. she was gonna love you forever.

kate bishop

Kates sure you could do something so simple as breathing and she would get giddy. she's no kidding. she absolutely adores you and you adore her. that's why you two just work. and while not all things come to you guys that simple most things do. you to do have your fights but they can usually be resolved with a good talk followed by a movie marathon with pizza and Lucky cuddles. so that's what you guys are doing right now. don't get me wrong, this happens on a weekly bases not just when you guys are having an argument. it's just a chill saturday afternoon, both you and kate resting from having a hard week in training and working with adults who never seemed to be pleased with any improvement in any skill. but anyways. you kate and lucky are all cuddled up on her couch as you decide what movie to pick out. as if it's a 6th sense kate suddenly gasps "we didn't order pizza!" and even lucky pops his head up, distraught by this horrible news. you have a good laugh but kate is seriously concerned about this. you stroke her hair and kiss it and tell her you'll order it rn. kate js smiles snuggly at lucky (who she high fives) as she leans her head on ur tit and receives head rubs. you call her favorite pizza place and order ur usual order while she finds a few movies to binge. thanks to nyc, ur pizza arrives in no time. and when you hear the bell ring you and lucky go answer the door. kates too busy complaining cuz her pillows gone. as you answer the door luckys right there as ur security. "haha your dogs really cute!" says the delivery guy "thank you my girlfriend found him!" you say simply as you tip him and close the door. kate literally gets up and runs around as she squeals. you thought she was just really hungry but after she picks you up when you put the pizza down she tells you other wise. she spins you around and cannot take the big goofy smile off her face. she's left speechless but her smile speaks for her. when you ask her about it your heart melts at how pure she is. the rest of the night she's has that smile on her face as she's resting on ur favorite pillow, you!!

a/n- so sorry this took so long and it's kinda crappy! i was kinda stuck so they all sound similar but hopefully you guys enjoyed! send requests!!🤍🤍

stay safe hoes🤍

[4lexnilsen]

⛸️: for our muses to go out ice skating together

“here,  let me help you out,”   alex offers with a chuckle,  mainly so that she doesn’t have to take off her mittens and freeze her hands off,  crouching down in front of @batheir and taking a hold of her skate-clad foot.   numb fingers working the tangled laces into some semblance of order.   it’s what friends do —   they care for each other.   “you want them tight enough to keep your ankles from twisting this way and that,  but not tight enough to completely cut off circulation to your feet.   how’s this feel?   okay?   want it a little tighter?”   he inquires,  pulling hard on the top of the laces to tighten the boot as icy hues flicker up,  studying her reaction.   eager to meet her doe-like eyes,  even more mesmerizing than usual now,  reflecting the shimmering lights around them.   

they’re at maggie daley park,  possibly one of the most magical places in the universe,  especially around this time of year.   the evening dusk is deepening into a deep shade of navy blue,  the very first stars appearing in the sky.   and one by one,  the christmas lights begin to come on as well,  twinkling oh-so-beautifully.   there are several oval ice-skating rinks in chicago,  but only one ribbon,  and alex has been dying to test it out for weeks,  see if it’s really as entertaining as everybody says.   initially,  it was supposed to be a fun bonding experience for all four of them —   alex and his girlfriend,  sarah,  his friend,  helena,  and helena’s boyfriend.   but when does anything ever go according to the plan?   

“oh,  i almost forgot…   sarah asked me to tell you that she’s very sorry,  but she won’t be able to make it.   she’s directing that christmas musical with her friends,  and apparently things are getting hectic,”   he explains with a small smile,  wrapping the laces around the top of her boot and double knotting them before tucking the ends in.   “what about your boyfriend?   is he coming?”   his features remain neutral,  even if his stomach twists in a strange way.   that guy is about as fun as stale bread.   rigid fingers moving onto helena’s other foot,  trying to focus on the task at hand and securing the skate.   “there,  all set.   what do you think?   all good?   too tight?   too loose?”

[draconicsparkle]

So @snivyartjpeg shared their warmup doodles in the discord server of a kokolight vampire au. And I swear, as soon as I saw it, my brain instantly desired to make something based off of it. How could I not?

Not much to say on this honestly. I just wanted to write something fun based on the cute doodles! So enjoy!

Vampires existed. They lived and breathed in the same world as humans. That was an undeniable fact. Yakou knew this and accepted this.

But what he had not expected was for one of his own employees to be one.

His first clue had been a few bloody tissues left in the trash can. As far as he knew, no one had been having intense nosebleeds aside from possibly Desuhiko. But no clients had come to the agency and no… magazines were here. So the possibility of the disguise detective being the bleeder was minimal.

So at that point, he tried to subtly observe his employees a little more.

He instantly ruled Fubuki out as the one hiding their true status, as she couldn’t lie to save her life. Desuhiko was ruled out too, as he was not very good at convincing. So he surely wouldn’t have been able to talk someone into providing blood. And Yuma? Obviously not, as the small rookie detective couldn’t hurt a fly.

Which left two contenders. Halara and Vivia.

This was where the search got a little more difficult. Those two were incredibly guarded individuals, not letting much slip past their walls. They could keep secrets no problem, and their poker faces were solid.

But after some watching, Yakou thought he nailed it down.

Vivia Twilight.

It seemed obvious once he connected the dots. The man always appeared to be sleeping during the day, as vampires were typically nocturnal creatures. His skin was pale, like he didn’t have great blood circulation as vampires tended to suffer from. His ability to be incredibly stealthy when he needed to. And the constant insistence that he wanted to die someday. Perhaps a mindset he got from needing to drain people’s lifeblood to survive.

And in addition to figuring this out, he also discovered who Vivia must have been feeding off of. Yuma Kokohead.

The two of them had gotten close since they started working together. It was fairly common to see them next to each other, whether it be naps, talks, or eating regular food. So he was certainly easy to access as a food source. Yuma also was fairly agreeable and could be convinced easily. He always wore that navy blue scarf, concealing his neck and potentially hiding the bite marks.

It all fit in Yakou’s mind. Surely he had figured it out.

But he couldn’t put the thought to bed until he had concrete proof. So he devised a little scheme.

It had started with sending Halara, Fubuki and Desuhiko out to do some jobs. He also claimed that he had errands to run, so he gave instructions to the last two. “Stay here in the agency and keep watch over the place. If clients come in, entertain them until I return. Understood?”

Yuma nodded with a beaming smile. “We won’t let you down, Chief!” Vivia hummed his agreement from the fireplace.

“Okay then. I’ll be back in an hour,” he told them. Then he left the submarine.

To his credit, he did go do some errands to kill time. But he returned to the sub after half an hour. He knew that by giving them a time frame, they might try something while they believed themselves to be alone with no interruptions. So it was the best time to try and get his proof.

He carefully unlocked the hatch, descending into the hull and turning around. The lights had been turned off, but the sound of clothes rustling was audible. Vampires preferred darkness over light, so this was a good sign. But he needed more information. So he took some sneaky steps towards the room’s opening, until he was just barely hidden. Then he suddenly rounded the corner.

And what he found there had not been what he expected.

Oh, there was a vampire in his submarine alright, but the glowing red eyes and bloody fangs didn’t belong to who he had thought. Yuma’s eyes shone in the dark as they turned towards him while perched on Vivia’s lap. His tongue darted out to lap up a tiny trickle of blood that was dripping down his chin.

Meanwhile, Vivia had been sitting upright on the sofa, head tilted to the side and his neck exposed with several bite marks now on display with his coat off. The lazy detective opened his eyes upon feeling the vampire stop, then caught sight of the flabbergasted Yakou. “Oh, hey Chief,” he called out, acting as though nothing was wrong.

“Wha-? But… I thought… Yuma’s the vampire?!” he managed to exclaim, running a hand through his frazzled hair.

“Uh… sorry? I wasn’t really sure… how to tell you,” the rookie said with an embarrassed tone. “But it’s okay! Vivia helps me with my blood urges, so there’s nothing to fear!”

Yakou rubbed his temples, trying to not get overly upset that his theory had been the complete opposite. “It’s fine, it’s fine. If you got it under control, then I see no reason to worry.” He sighed, then reached for the light switch. “Turning on the lights now. Close your eyes.”

He waited until the red glow vanished from the room, then flipped the switch. He grabbed the grocery bag that he had left near the hatch and entered the room again, ready to discuss things with his employees.

But when he returned, Yuma had somehow vanished from sight. Only Vivia was in the room, busy with tying a dark bandage around his collection of bite marks. “Uh… where’s Yuma?” he asked, very confused on where the rookie had disappeared to.

Vivia smiled. “He gets sleepy after a meal. And… he insists on resting with me.”

Yakou was about to insist on a better explanation when he noticed a new shade of lilac on the taller detective’s hair. Walking closer revealed something quite endearing.

A small purple vampire bat with Yuma’s signature hair antenna was nestled into the green hair. He let out a yawn, then snapped his jaws closed and snuggled deeper into the locks. That, Yakou would admit, was adorable.

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to rest, I guess. I’ll try to be quiet,” he told them, then finishing the journey to the kitchen to put the groceries away. He did try to keep his promise, and worked as silently as possible.

Once everything was put away, he peeked into the lobby again. Vivia had retreated to the fireplace, the tiny bat still in his hair. Both looked dead to the world.

That was good, he supposed. Better to let them get some relaxation time while they could before the next big job. And the sight was enough to heal his wounded pride as a detective.

He turned his eyes away from the pair, settling down in his chair and opening the newspaper. Time to get back to business.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions

Next Chapter

The day is here! The one I hope some of you have been waiting for, the first chapter of my first Dave York fic. I hope you love it as much as I love writing it!

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Rating/Warnings: This chapter is MA, no smut yet, build up and tension are the name of the game

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Also used this song for a little bit of inspiration -

Chapter 1: When He Sees Me

“If you have any more questions or comments, I’ve got my official contact information here,” you spoke clearly as you pointed to the screen behind you, “thank you for your time.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised with the number of attendees at your breakout session. The use of AI in defense intelligence continued to be the hot topic in the intelligence community especially for this year’s conference. You hadn’t spent years of nearly sleepless nights and exhausting mornings with development and research to not be considered one of the foremost experts on the subject.

Professionalism and a line of people eager to speak with you prevented you from leaving when you wanted. You scanned the room full of individuals in stuffy business suits and some in even stuffier medal-decorated uniforms. If you didn’t hold your breath, you’d pass out from the stench of testosterone-fueled arrogance.

“So when I think about AI, the pattern analysis and the information clusters---I kind of get how it makes our jobs easier, in theory,” you heard a voice laden with contemplation but also with condescension say.

You were crouched on the ground packing up your laptop, power cord, and briefcase eager to leave. You stretched your fingers and then closed them into tight fists before opening them again. Tension filled your shoulders, chest, and back as you zipped your briefcase. You took a deep, cooling breath through your nose, holding it in and letting it expand in your lungs until swirling notes of calm slowly began to circulate within you.

“But?” You looked up, slowly releasing the calming air from your lips. When you stood up, you were taken aback by the sight of a roguishly handsome man.

He stood before you, both hands on his hips in a posture that aimed to imbue you with intimidation at his authority. You held his brown-eyed stare with your own, always looking for an excuse to use your well-honed observation skills. He wore a well-fitting, but simultaneously well-used navy blue suit, worn just enough that you assumed he reserved it especially for conferences. You concluded that he be must upper-level management with a defense contractor, but more likely a high-level manager at an intelligence agency.

“I think AI’s shortcoming is its innate lack of understanding of human behavior,” he stated with a shrug. “A lack of human perception means you can’t analyze and decipher intent and it can’t interpret how we make decisions based on feeling, based on interpersonal communication.”

“You assume that this is a problem that’s not being taken into consideration,” the urge to defend your work was palpating in your veins. “More funding and support is needed for human analysts; how else do you think innovation would move forward?”

He took his right hand and rubbed the side of his face, while smoothing the side of his brown hair. His expression was full of collected calm paired with a confidence that you somehow suspected was well-earned. That pissed you off the most. He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and lips curled up into a smirk, revealing a dimple on his right cheek on his clean-shaven face.

“Hmm,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on you like it was a challenge he had to win, “your misplaced hostility speaks volumes.”

A tightness grew in your shoulders and rose to your neck from the nerve of his words. You clenched your jaw, your tongue pressing tightly at the roof of your mouth behind your teeth.

“But not quite as loud as your misogyny,” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

You glided away, disallowing him the chance to introduce or explain himself. You shook hands with attendees while giving away dazzling smiles as you made your escape. It was easy to weave through the crowd, as most people found ways to linger and speak to good friends and long-lost acquaintances. That was just how international conferences worked.

Fortune was in your favor as you found solace in an elevator. You backed yourself into one of the corners, continuing to people watch as more conference-attendees entered. You noted a man in his mid-to-late 50s, his graying blonde hair cut close to his head and his blue uniform filled with rows of medals and insignias. He was followed by a couple, who appeared to be trying their hardest to hide their intimacy with each other through closed-off, professional postures. But you knew better. The way they looked at each other screamed at you that they used this annual conference to conduct their long-standing affair.

A groan nearly escaped you, when you saw the same man who approached you after your presentation. His eyes were alight with intense determination and his brows knitted towards each other, creasing the space just above his nose. A tight intensity settled over your chest and neck as you backed yourself further into your corner of the elevator. The unremitting concentration that inhabited his eyes gave you the distinct feeling of being hunted. You tried as fast as you could to avert your eyes away from him. The dimple that revealed itself in the errant grin he gave you when his eyes met yours told you that you failed. 

You made every attempt to affect disinterest, placing hyper focus on your phone, examining the cuticles of every single one of your nails, even staring at the floor. You barely paid attention as the people you shared the elevator with exit at their floor. Not even the surreptitious couple, who you assumed left the elevator at the same time. Inevitably, the handsome and arrogant stranger was the only one who remained.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you heard him say.

“Hm?” You could feel your brow beginning to furrow as your attitude fought against your level-headedness to gain control. “I’m sorry?”

“You called me a misogynist,” Dave reminded you with a smirk, speaking of it as a badge he wore with honor.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” you sighed the sarcasm dripping from every word, “and I’m hostile.”

“No,” the voice he spoke with was calculating and unmoving, “I said you had hostility, and you took it upon yourself to assume that I was a misogynist.”

“Semantics,” you said your voice was quick like it was jumping from a trap.

“I’m not the kind of man stupid enough to belittle someone’s life’s work,” he raised his hands up as if he was conceding to you, “especially when she’s clearly brilliant.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke those words, trying to decipher if there was some kind of hidden meaning or intent behind them. There was an air about him that commanded your attention. Perhaps it was the dichotomy that he seemed to present the further you observed him. He was competent yet personable, casual yet professional, and guarded but disarming. You worked through these thoughts in your mind as the whirring of the elevator took over as it continued upward.

“Well, at least you’re smart enough to know when you’ve made a mistake,” you said with a nod of your head.

“Are you going to the networking social?”

You weren’t certain if he was simply curious or was inviting you.

“Oh god no,” you were quick to answer with a loud groan, almost too loud, “that’s just not my thing.”

The handsome stranger shrugged, “They’re usually filled with self-righteous assholes, anyway.”

The accuracy and the irony of his statement bubbled up laughter from your belly. A feeling made of confusion, guilt, and absurdity came over you as you felt yourself beginning to let your guard down. He wasn’t supposed to apologize. He wasn’t supposed to be interesting or intriguing. He should have just been a one-dimensional, arrogant asshole.

“Well,” you spoke, an unexpected grin forming on your lips, “looks like we might actually be on the same page this time.”

He held his hand out and offered you a smile full of purpose. “I’m Dave, Dave York, D.I.A.”

The immediacy with which you gave him your name surprised you. As he shook your hand you noted a slight awkwardness to his grip, though you could tell he was making every effort to give you a strong handshake. The skin on the inside of his palm and his fingertips were slightly weathered with scar tissue. You noticed the cold feeling of metal on his left-hand ring finger and took note of the wedding ring, trying not to frown. A corner of your brain wondered about the stories that could be found in the lines of those weathered hands.

“Hmm, D.I.A.,” you murmur to yourself. “Was following me to the elevator just your creepy way of getting me to talk shop with you?”

“You think I’d be that obvious?” His voice lowered an octave when he turned to face you and a chill tingled all over you.

“Well I don’t know you,” you replied with a shrug, “but I’d say if you were, you’d be pretty shitty at your job.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you don’t you, firefly,” he said, his brow lowering as he took one step toward you.

His hands tightened on his hips as he stepped toward you and he squared his shoulders behind him. Your brain took stock of each movement, at each attempt to make himself seem bigger and you seem smaller. A wicked little laugh brewed inside your abdomen as you accepted his challenge, moving one inch forward. You were close enough to breathe in his scent and your gaze moved from his neck, up to his lips and then to his eyes. 

“When you’re a woman in the IC, you’ve got to find ways to adapt; it’s nothing personal.”

An unremorseful apology. 

The elevator bell rang out with a loud ding.

“This is my stop,” holding your gaze to him, neither of you moved

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime this week.”  

“Maybe,” you agreed with the tilt of your head, that felt almost too flirty to you. “Enjoy the rest of your conference.

“You too,” he affirmed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly becoming engrossed by a text message that you suspected was from his spouse.

Slight disappointment set in that you could not continue the conversation, but your exhaustion was quickly winning out. Your eyelids and muscles felt heavy as they screamed louder for rest. You ambled to your room and as you opened the door you immediately kicked off your high heels and shook your arms out of your blazer, tossing it on the bed. You walked back to the bathroom and reached into the shower, turning the dial towards hot. Mindlessly, you began unbuttoning your light coral blouse when you heard a knock at your room door. An audible sigh of frustration left you as you quickly turned the water off.

Who could possibly have any reason to bother me right now, you thought to yourself, using the peephole to look outside.

“Hey, it’s me,” you saw and heard your coworker from the other side of the door, “Brad.”

You took a deep breath, making your annoyance before opening the door.

“Hi, Brad,” you greeted tentatively, “everything OK?” 

“Oh yeah, everything is fine,” he replied with a grin that was too perfectly and polished. “Heard you did a good job on your presentation.”

“Heard?” You said with a raised brow.

“That’s the word from all the guys I’ve run into who attended,” he explained leaning against your doorway. “They were really impressed with you.”

A wave of exhaustion immediately took over your shoulders and you stepped back. You felt inconvenienced and nearly disgusted as you observed Brad’s eyes meet yours but travel down the length of your body. Every word that left him wrapped you in disgust.  The perfection that he displayed reeked of privilege. He was the typical aging former college frat boy and it did nothing for you. The entitlement he wore on his shoulders might as well have been a flashing, neon sign shouting out that he could get away with anything. 

“That’s cool,” you say quickly, inching closer and closer to shutting the door. “Well, I’m going to finish up some reports and turn in; I am beat.”

“What?” he stared back at you in confusion. “It’s not even 6 yet, and happy hour’s just started.”

“And you are much better at rubbing shoulders with the bigwigs, B,” you compliment hoping it would make him leave faster. “Work that magic of yours. Happy-hour it and let me know how it goes?”

You shut the door quickly hoping that you left him dumbfounded.

With him gone you were able to return to all the things you planned to bring you relaxation. You returned to the shower, the water warming quickly. The warmth of the water encompassed you, easing the tension of your neck, shoulders, and back muscles. You stepped out, wrapping yourself in a towel. The next hours were perfectly mundane. You wrapped yourself in a hotel robe, had a light dinner, read for fun, and basked in your nightly skincare routine. Before you knew it you had fallen asleep in your bathrobe with the tv on.

You woke up with a start, your brain hazy with confusion. Rolling over, you were greeted with the bright light of the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. 12:12 AM. You weren’t even sure what time you had fallen asleep. You nestled yourself back into the bed, trying to will the white noise of the air conditioner and soft fullness of the down comforter to lull you back to sleep. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning and very much awake.

With frustration, you pull on a pair of high-waisted sweatpants and a yellow tank top, layering your navy-blue blazer over it to appear at least halfway decent. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, brushing fingers through your hair before securing it into a messy French twist with one of your hair clips. A puff of air left from your lips as you chuckled at yourself.

Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. You’re not trying to impress anybody.

The silence of the empty halls amplified the echo of your light footsteps towards the elevator. You waited patiently, with arms crossed until you found yourself on the ground level of the hotel. Relief washed over you when you noticed that the hotel bar was less busy than you expected. The bartender attended to you quickly filling your order of a whiskey, allowing you to find a quiet corner booth to enjoy your drink.  The bar was open to the lobby and allowed you to people watch as you took slow sips of your drink. You glanced at your watch.

12:57 am. No one interesting is going to walk through those doors at this hour.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the smokiness coat your lips, tongue, and the back of your throat with sweet burn before you looked up again, noticing a familiar, handsome face walk through the lobby doors. Dave. He was rubbing his hands from the cold December air and his brown hair was covered in a dark gray beanie. You kept your eyes on him, thinking he wouldn’t notice until he locked eyes with you and raised his right arm with a wave. He stopped, shuffling his feet beneath him with indecision until he began to walk towards the bar, towards you.

“We meet again,” you greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat across from you. “Back late, I see.”

“Ah, yeah,” he acknowledged his arrival as though it were an afterthought, “sometimes you get caught up with colleagues and you just don’t have a choice.”

“True,” you agreed, “I get it.”

“What about you?” He inquired, pointing towards your drink. “You’re up late.”

“Oh, yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, taking another sip of it, “that’s why I look like this.”

You waved your hands towards yourself, trying to emphasize how completely unimpressive your appearance was. A chill overcame you as his expression changed, his brow furrowing almost scornfully.

“I don’t know about that,” his eyes reading every inch of you from your head all the way down to your toes, “you look…good.”

Goosebumps tiptoed up and down your arms, like little finger tips tapping and teasing you. You unconsciously crossed and uncrossed your legs, feeling the fabric of your underwear rub against you, your entrance welling with your own sweet dew. Your eyes took a split-second glimpse of his wedding ring. Against your better judgment, you allowed yourself to smile at his compliment. You traced the rim of your whiskey-filled lowball glass, thinking how to respond.

“Congratulations, you have eyes,” you quipped, coaxing a low, growling laugh from him before you continued. “So, I couldn’t sleep, and I came down here to people watch.”

He leaned forward at your comment, his brown eyes round and wide as he raised his eyebrows with interest. His shoulders loosened and his newly relaxed demeanor invited more conversation.

“You like that?” He asked, his brows raised with curiosity. “People watching, I mean.”

The double entendre that left his pouted lips electrified you, feeling his electricity unexpectedly flick at your nipples and then at your core. The dim lighting of the hotel bar, the light jazz music playing over the speakers, and your hushed voices amplified the mysterious ambience around you. All of it together seemed so perfect that you couldn’t help following his lead, so you leaned in closer. Even in a beanie and wearing a thick jacket, you found him nearly irresistible.

“It’s a favorite pastime of mine,” you answered, keeping your eyes on him, “I like to think about people’s stories, people’s personal stories.”

“Is that why you were looking at me, observing me?” His tone dipped in a thin layer of accusation coupled with intense interest. “Trying to figure out my story?”

You stare back at him with a deep breath, wondering why you kept engaging when you knew you should stop.

“I’m not surprised you noticed,” you stated nonchalantly, “as unsurprised as you probably are about me wondering about your wedding ring.”

He strained his left hand open and closed, looking at his own ring as though it was a triviality. To your surprise, he leaned toward you even more, like a challenge.

“You know there’s a lot more to people’s stories than what you can piece together from a fleeting observation,” as he spoke, it felt like his charisma was vibrating off him and floating towards you. “Life, relationships are messy, complicated.”

 You read the unspoken words that uttered from the moves of his body. One hand resting open in the empty space between you in the booth. The fingers of his other hand rubbing at his chin and lips, which curled into an enticing smile. These movements and these words lingered in your brain, until you understood that they were filled with intrigue and desire. You breathed them in and mirrored them.

“So what about your story Dave,” you inquired, leaning in but making sure you kept your eyes to his, “your life, your relationship?”

You found yourself involuntarily licking your lips. The whiskey along with the heat of embarrassment flushed your cheeks and neck. It had you finally admitting to yourself that this man was really fucking attractive. He tilted his head towards you, smiled, and damn near melted you as he traced the bottom of his pouty lips with his thumb. Your eyes tracing every move of his immense, sinewy hands, as he checked the time on his gold watch.

1:47 AM.

“It’s too late right now to tell you that,” he teased, drawing a slight huff of frustration from you, “Ask me tomorrow night, here at the bar. 7:30.”

“How presumptuous of you to assume I’d be available,” you said, tipping your whiskey towards him, impressed by his ability to avoid answering a hard question.  

 “Oh firefly, you’re not the only one who’s good at reading people,” the words left his lips luring you and trapping you like a vice. “Nothing about this tells me you’ll say no.”

Dave gestured at the narrow space between you, his hand almost cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. The innuendo of his words threatened to set you ablaze. You took another sip of whiskey, allowing it to warm and loosen your muscles, allowing it to calm you.

“Well then,” you willed yourself to hold your tongue lightly against your lips before breathing out the last word, “tomorrow.”

With a nod of confirmation, he stood up and swaggered towards the elevators. An audible gasp that had been saving itself in your lungs escaped you when you knew for sure that he was gone. You chased it with a final gulp of your whiskey, feeling its exquisite burn as it moved through you. Leaving a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the elevator.

Tomorrow night. Your brain spoke to you again.

At that moment the elevator doors opened, and you entered. You returned to your room, discarding your blazer and sweat pants, before plopping into bed. You grabbed the fluffy comforter up to your chin, inviting in and surrendering to sleep.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Oliver Willis at Daily Kos:

Over the weekend, House Republicans once again failed to secure a deal to fund the federal government. The deadline for approving a spending bill is Dec. 20 and without its passage there could be another shutdown, which has happened before on the GOP’s watch. Speaker Mike Johnson has been unable to get members of his own party representing farm districts to back the legislation currently being negotiated. Politico reports that Republicans planned to circulate the text of the bill among members on Sunday, but that soft deadline has passed without a solution and now leadership may reach out to Democrats for help.

Advocacy groups and lobbyists representing farming interests have been pushing Congress to include farm relief in the funding bill. “Our country will suffer the consequences if Congress takes farmers & our food supply for granted. I call on members of Congress who represent ag to stand with farmers by insisting the supplemental spending bill include economic aid for farmers and voting it down if it doesn’t,” Zippy Duvall, president of the American Farm Bureau Federation wrote. Ironically, one reason farms are seeking relief is that they are still dealing with the economic fallout from Donald Trump’s trade war, which led to decreased sales of U.S. farm products on the international market. Trump has proposed similar trade policies, including tariffs, for his second term despite the economic risk to millions of consumers.

While the House fumbled this key deadline, Johnson was not at the Capitol. On Saturday he instead attended the Army-Navy football game along with Trump, Vice President-elect JD Vance, and Trump benefactor Elon Musk. Since taking the House in the 2022 midterm elections, Republicans have governed in a state of almost perennial chaos. The party could not decide on a consensus speaker and then after Kevin McCarthy was selected, he was removed from power. Because McCarthy and now Johnson have had such a hard time getting the party in line, they have had to rely on Democratic votes to pass key legislation keeping the nation funded. Even after Republicans held on to the House in the 2024 election, the margin of the party’s control will be virtually unchanged from two years ago.

House Republicans don’t take basic governing seriously, and this proves it.

[eternaltae7]

Hani’s Relationship with Namjoon

Fox of BTS | BTS 8th Member

Hani’s relationship with Namjoon, also known as RM, was a unique blend of deep friendship, mutual respect, and a shared passion for their craft. From the very beginning, when Hani joined BTS as the eighth member, Namjoon took on a protective and nurturing role in her life, helping her navigate the complexities of being an idol in the intense K-pop industry.

The Mentor and the Protégé

Namjoon was often seen as the leader of BTS, and he embraced that role with a sense of responsibility that extended to Hani. He became a mentor to her, guiding her through her training and helping her hone her skills as a vocalist and performer. Namjoon admired Hani’s talent and unique background, often encouraging her to incorporate her Irish heritage into her performances and songwriting.

They spent countless hours together in the studio, where Hani would observe Namjoon as he crafted lyrics and melodies. He would often invite her to contribute her ideas, fostering her creativity and confidence. “Your perspective is so refreshing,” he would say, encouraging her to share her thoughts. This collaborative dynamic allowed Hani to grow as an artist, and their sessions often turned into brainstorming marathons filled with laughter and inspiration.

A Safe Space

Outside of their musical endeavors, Hani found solace in her friendship with Namjoon. He was someone she could confide in, share her fears and aspirations, and seek advice. Namjoon had an innate ability to listen and offer wisdom without judgment. Whenever Hani felt overwhelmed by the pressures of fame, he would remind her to stay grounded and true to herself.

One late night, as they worked on a new song, Hani expressed her anxiety about being in the spotlight and how it sometimes felt suffocating. Namjoon paused, looking at her with understanding eyes. “It’s okay to feel that way, Hani. Just remember, you’re not alone. We’re all in this together. You bring something special to our group, and I want you to embrace that.”

Shared Moments

Their bond deepened through shared experiences, both on and off the stage. Namjoon had a knack for finding quiet moments amidst the chaos of their schedules, often suggesting spontaneous outings or late-night talks. Whether it was exploring new cafes in Seoul or simply sitting on the roof of the dorm, stargazing and sharing their dreams, these moments strengthened their connection.

During a particularly hectic promotional period, Namjoon surprised Hani with a small picnic on the rooftop. He brought her favorite snacks and set up a cozy space with blankets. “I thought we could take a break and just relax for a bit,” he said with a smile. They spent hours talking about everything—from their childhoods to their hopes for the future. It was a reminder that even in their busy lives, it was essential to find time for each other.

Supportive Friend

Namjoon was also incredibly supportive of Hani’s personal life, always encouraging her to follow her heart. When rumors about her and Wonwoo began to circulate, Namjoon was one of the first to notice. Instead of jumping to conclusions, he approached Hani with a supportive attitude. “If you like him, that’s great. Just be sure you’re ready for whatever comes next,” he said thoughtfully.

Their relationship was characterized by respect and understanding, and it became clear that Namjoon genuinely cared for Hani’s well-being. He was always there to celebrate her victories, whether it was a successful performance or a song she wrote that resonated with fans. When Hani wrote her first solo track, she shared it with him before anyone else. Namjoon listened intently, and when it ended, he hugged her tightly. “You’re going to touch so many hearts with this,” he told her.

A Special Bond

As time passed, Hani and Namjoon developed an unbreakable bond, a friendship that felt like family. They were there for each other during tough times, celebrating each other’s successes and navigating the challenges of being idols together. Hani often said that Namjoon felt like an older brother to her, guiding her with his wisdom and protecting her with his unwavering support.

Their friendship was evident to fans, who often highlighted the special chemistry between them. Whether it was through playful banter during interviews or heartfelt moments shared on stage, Hani and Namjoon’s relationship was one of warmth and authenticity.

Ultimately, Hani and Namjoon’s connection was a testament to the power of friendship in the entertainment industry. It showed that amidst the glamour and chaos, true bonds could form, providing strength and comfort as they journeyed through their lives as artists.

[toovermorrow]

— stories and stars

cloud strife x tifa lockhart | 3.7k words

SUMMARY — One week after they saved the Planet, Cloud and Tifa wondered about their places in the world. They felt so small, yet never insignificant; who are they, really?

WARNINGS — angst, hurt/comfort, introspective, post-ffvii/pre-advent children (canon compliant), trauma and identity crisis processing, traumatic flashbacks (cloud has PTSD).

READ ON AO3

Dark navy swept through the sky a few hours before midnight. Specks of light from dying stars—ones that Tifa and Cloud were grateful weren’t theirs—twinkled in the safe, comforting distance.

The chilling evening breeze sifted its way through the cracks of the windows. The wind blew without a whisper, silence filling the four corners of the room. Tifa was urged by the slightest tinge of a feeling to look east, eyes landing exactly on the tip of Cloud’s upturned nose.

The two couldn’t sleep.

Cloud stared at the ceiling, comfortable in casual clothes for what seemed to be the first time in all his life. The bed’s cushions were feather-soft. His pillow was delightfully cold. The heat of their bodies and breaths circulated and dissipated, warmth allowing itself to only land between themselves and nothing else. The moon reflected the light of the sleeping sun against their skin.

Tifa rolled her face over. “Still awake?”

“Yeah. So are you,” Cloud replied neutrally.

The bed fit them both with a generous allowance of space in between. Neither of them nudged closer, but it was intimate; it’s not the closest they’ve been. Staying awake together was something they’d done multiple times before, they’d been in closer proximity; however, unlike everything they felt in the past few months, this was new.

Intimacy wasn’t their best spot as friends, partners, whatever they were. They never really said anything about it despite the questions in their heads that they’ve always wanted to slip out of their tongues, but in the grand scheme of things, deemed unnecessary.

Cloud’s eyelashes lowered, only to stop halfway before he could close them.

“Got a lot on your mind?” Cloud asked.

He wasn’t not the type to ask questions, but it was uncommon for a query of the sort to leave his lips. Concern wasn’t his most evident expression but Tifa felt it in every syllable of his sentence. He changed a bit.

She knew him. He knew her. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Me too,” he shuffled, “I can’t sleep. What’re you…thinking about?”

Tifa inhaled sharply and sighed.

Where should she begin? She thought a lot about herself. After years of caring for other people and looking after others, in the moments wherein she knew death was upon the world she’d fought for, Tifa thought of her legacy.

A sky full of nothing turned into black with specks of mint green flashes, before a light washed over the world — then, in an instant, the unusual weather of the world returned to its former state. The meteor that threatened the existence of all things had seemingly destroyed nothing but itself in the wake of all evil.

The Lifestream weaved its way back into the Planet, and yet, Tifa’s mind was thinking humanly.

She witnessed Cloud’s conscience in the Lifestream and how the fragments of the broken man she loved turned back into parts of a whole. She watched as Cloud’s deepest desires to be accepted as a person, his own person, unfolded before her eyes. He wanted to be accepted by Tifa, and she showed that she loved him for who he was, is, and always will be; regardless of the lies he told her and himself just to impress that insatiable need to be someone.

Sometimes though, Tifa wondered what exact kind of person she was to make Cloud care for her this way.

As the world caved in and the grey skies turned into looming death, she thought of why she didn’t dive into her own conscience. She cared for Cloud and still does—she wouldn’t be facing him in bed if she didn’t care—however, she thought of herself for the first time in what felt like an eternity lost to the world around her.

What if she saw herself in that mint-green sea instead of him? Why didn’t she see herself? Why wasn’t it her own conscience that she’d navigated through, but Cloud’s? She wanted to help him like she always quietly promised in return, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered about her little spark of life in a sea full of bright, big stars.

She’ll never know now. “I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

Cloud’s eyes finally turned to her face. They were the color of the sky as she’d known when they were younger.

“It still hasn’t sunken in that we…saved the world.”

Listening, Cloud hummed in agreement.

“And I don’t know if this will make sense…” Tifa’s eyes lifted themselves away from his face. “…I started thinking about my place in the world.”

He could do nothing but continue to listen.

Differences were everything to her. It wasn’t the cliche of vengeance that pulled her into the fiery passion behind her burgundy red irises; no, the similarities behind Bahamut materia and her eyes were never coincidences, she thought. She wanted a difference in the world: a greener Planet was a bonus in all of her efforts to reverse the damage that it—and she—had suffered.

Suddenly, because of what she experienced in her early life, she became a person who kept her real personality just to adapt to others. Tifa would usually hyper-observe in conversation, adjusting her mannerisms to match the other person. In moments like these, she’d be careful not to share too much of her life as she thought that there was a dam protecting a flood of traumas in her head. With utmost care, she never dared to even let a single droplet of water slip through her mouth, let alone allow it to flood through her tears. In a way, she kept so much of herself that she started to lose that meaning and identity that she so wanted to protect.

Losing her father to the pitch-black selfishness of a one-winged angel wasn’t what defined her. Helping her childhood friend remember her wasn’t what made her whole. She’s more than the willingness in her system to take Shinra down and make a difference in her surrounding environment. These learnings that she got from flashes of the end of everything stuck with her, even if it had only been a week since their rag-tag team saved the Earth. She’s a collection of stories named Tifa Lockhart.

“My hands are sore.”

Cloud watched as Tifa clenched her fist, only for her knuckles—thoroughly calloused by the rough leather adorning her wrists and fingers—to immediately turn white at the slightest bend. She winced before relaxing her hand.

“We fought a lot, huh?” Cloud looked back up at her.

They met eyes for a moment. The wind blew, this time with a pleasing hum akin to a siren’s hymn. Leaves of a nearby tree rustled as the two adults turned their bodies fully to face each other.

At this rate, Tifa would have been humming the tune of her eighth-grade piano recital to herself, lulling her to sleep. She opted out of it, listening to Cloud’s steady breathing with the rhythm of the evening air filling the room.

“We—you, you’ve done a lot,” Cloud stumbled on his words. There wasn’t much for him to say, anyway.

“You too, you know,” Tifa replied.

If there’s something Tifa didn’t know, it’s that he wouldn’t have done anything if he didn’t meet her.

He wouldn’t even have continued to pursue SOLDIER if it weren’t for the promise he made. The creaky wood planks of the top of the well, the smell of the earth below, the glares of the starry sky that weren’t harsh; gentle, forgiving, and ready to shoot one star across the night to encapsulate the promise of going back to her.

Cloud always returned to save Tifa. He’d always kept that promise, one of the things he had never truly forgotten. She’s a collection of stories named Tifa Lockhart, and to him, she was a bedtime story that kept him company throughout every waking moment of his life.

“I owe you a lot,” Tifa smiled. “For continuing to keep that promise.”

“Y-You don’t…” Cloud’s eyes widened as he disagreed. “I owe you, if anything.”

“Oh, stop it. Let me have this moment.”

Defeated by her quick dismissal, he readjusted his head to face the ceiling again.

“I can’t get used to you being this kind,” Tifa teased.

Cloud merely let out a faint chuckle, smiling ever so slightly. The slight tinge of a tone in his voice, the sound of genuineness kicking itself out of his lungs after a lifetime of sarcastic laughter, the lone appearance of the corners of his lips turning softly to express delight; Tifa couldn’t get used to this sight either.

The light of his smile didn’t drop as he faced her again. “I’m not that kind.”

She hadn’t seen that side of him in what seemed to be forever. He hadn’t felt this amused by anything in a long while.

Unable to act, Tifa simply elbowed Cloud’s arm. “Gosh. You look funny.”

“What?”

“You’re never this happy-looking!” She let out a laugh.

Cloud’s amusement turned into a fond gaze as he listened to her giggle. They haven’t laughed in a while, haven’t teased in this way. Cloud was usually dense or dismissive whenever Tifa made comments, but as the world shifted with their hands, so did the bubble of laughter they’d been suppressing.

“I’m getting the hang of it I think,” Cloud admitted, half serious.

A beat of silence passed as they both fixated on the ceiling above them. The concrete is sturdy above their heads. Shelter hadn’t felt so secure in so long without the crawling dread of doomsday within the grasp of a hand.

It’s all gone. The most they’d ever have to worry about now were themselves.

Neither would admit it — nor would their other friends ever bring it up, but the looming question of “what now” haunted them for more than it should. They were the silent heroes of the apocalypse that never happened. Not a lot of people knew their names except for the Shinra Corporation, which was going to dissolve anyway. Townsfolk that they’d met from across the world would know them, but not as the people who held back a meteor from falling into the Earth.

Cloud wasn’t going to be known as the man who faced Sephiroth. Tifa wasn’t going to be known as the person who willed the Planet to safety. Neither were their colleagues.

Then who were they?

Who are they?

Their former friends would have known. Zack and Aerith were two people who lost their lives to carry the torch of saving the world in their wake. The torch’s flame wasn’t red, not the color of their burning hometown in their memories. They were so considerate of Cloud and Tifa that they might have known them better than themselves.

But they’re not here anymore.

Life goes on, but what’s there to life that they haven’t figured out yet?

The stars in the sky twinkled as glimpses of the universe painted over the dark navy with streaks of lighter hues. Tifa looked at the window beyond Cloud’s face with a childlike glee. She’d seen the same hues before from the top of the well.

“Tifa, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

Her pupils slowed their restlessness and fell back to his face to focus on Cloud’s somber words.

“Why do you care for me?”

She didn’t know it, he didn’t show it, but he was having flashes of his past at the back of his mind again.

For once, the flashes didn’t feel like they were blitzes of lightning or sparks of the same fire that ran across their hometown. He didn’t feel the heat of the flames in the goddamn traumatic memory that never left his mind even if he tried to forget it all. The flashes manifested in the form of voices now, ringing his ears with the cracking of the fire alongside voices. He saw only the slightest of visions before hearing the voices of people he loves.

It’s loud. Then it’s louder. Behind his somber eyes, Cloud saw glimpses of Zack’s smile, then Aerith’s closed eyes, before they opened, where the blue serpent’s pupils of Sephiroth greeted him instead. Conversations between his friends and family—the voice of his mother calling his name for breakfast—echoed through his head as if he’d trapped himself in a cave with no escape in sight.

Tifa’s lucky she can’t hear anything, one voice said. The other laughed. They’re his voices. His tone, his laugh, his mockery of himself. For once, it’s not Sephiroth, it’s not Zack, it’s not Aerith, it’s not his mother.

How could I be my greatest enemy if I don’t know myself?

Cloud did his best not to show Tifa that he was having an episode. He couldn’t have it that night. He didn’t want to, he never wanted to; but as his own voice rang in his head hauntingly, his facade cracked as he dug his head into the pillow, curling his body next to Tifa.

“You looked after me so many times. I don’t get it, I don’t get it, I don’t…” Cloud swallowed after talking. His voice almost gave away the internal hell he’d been living through at that moment.

“All those times…why did I matter to you so much?”

Tifa knew what was going on. “Cloud…”

She took ahold of his wrist, twisting her body closer to his, and she held him tight. “I don’t know either.”

Caught off-guard, Cloud’s eyes widened, scanning for her face. She gave a knowing look, one that she hoped would be warm enough to say that she was here like she always had been.

He lowered his head and shifted closer to her, welcomed by her embrace.

“Tifa, you could spend your time on other things. You’re your own person, and I’m just…”

He looked up at her once more to apologize, only to be dismissed. “Let it out,” Tifa told him, inviting him to tell her—show her everything he’d been bottling up.

As if she couldn’t release her own dam herself.

Cloud bit his lip before continuing. It had been a week since the end of the world stopped. It had been a week since he last truly embraced his emotions as they were.

“I’m just a collection of stories,” he managed to say with tears in his eyes.

“I’m not Zack…I was never a First Class—n-no, I was never in SOLDIER. I was never going to be the SOLDIER that would have saved you. I’m also not your childhood…friend. I wasn’t really a clone, but I have Jenova’s…”

A flash erupted through Cloud’s nerves. The pain seethed, but he didn’t let a single utterance of pain escape through his teeth.

“It’s patchwork. It’s one story after another. Not memories, just stories, and I…”

“Aren’t we all?”

Tifa interrupted Cloud’s little speech by tugging his wrist. She’d been caressing it to calm him down, but feeling a rush through his vein, she held her thumb over his skin and kept it there.

“It’s really hard in general to figure out who you are regardless of what happened.” She looked down to observe the throbbing veins and nerves under his skin. “I think I know who I am, but not really. There’s no need to worry about that.”

He simply looked at her burgundy eyes through her thick downward eyelashes. Her eyebrows lifted for a moment as she sighed.

“Weird, isn’t it? We can do all we can to figure ourselves out and yet…we can’t. Like, I know that I’m strong. I’m from Nibelheim. I know that I want to care about other people.”

Cloud nodded slightly. She looked up at him as her thumb brushed along his wrist again.

“There’s a lot of things that I can say about me. I am my own person, but I’m not me without stories.”

He seemed to understand. She’d been this and that, and to Cloud, she was someone that he always sought approval from. There was a lot to Tifa than she had just mentioned, and he wanted her to mean more than just the subject of his woes and insecurities.

Either way, he listened, agreeing for once — but he hadn’t been sold on the idea that she was just like him.

“I’m not just…me as I know myself. I’m the Tifa that you think I am. I’m what Zack thought I was, I’m what Aerith thought I was…I am beyond my memories. I’m a collection of stories, just like you.”

Cloud squinted his eyes. “But you know what I mean.”

“I know. And in my story, you’re Cloud, the one I care about.”

His tensed muscles softened at her reply. She felt it under her touch.

It dawned on him that he never really knew how much he longed for words like those. His cells were degrading little by little, memories and identity fading into the darkness in his mind. To think that he, despite it all, was still somebody to someone — to be worthy of care at all, sparked something in Cloud that felt less like a traumatic shock and more like a touch from the skies.

Tifa smiled fondly at him. She blinked slowly as she gathered the right words to say.

“You saved me then. In Nibelheim, twice. When we fell off the mountain. Then, when Sephiroth took Papa.” The memories were bitter, but they both knew that these are all just memories now. “Then you saved us in all those fights. You held onto your promise all this time.”

She wasn’t wrong. She’d always been Cloud’s strongest physical support, but he carried the honor in the sword that he was left with.

Zack would’ve been proud, Cloud thought.

“Even if you broke your promise, which you never did, I still would’ve looked after you regardless.” She chuckled with a sweet, toothy grin. “You’re Cloud, you’re beyond a promise.”

The night breeze whispered once again.

Cloud cleared his throat. “And if that’s what I’m not, then…”

“We’ve gone through the Lifestream before.” She squinted at him with a cocked eyebrow. “I don’t want to go through it again just to remind you that you’re Cloud.”

She’d been joking, but she meant it. She helped him rediscover himself and doing it once had been more than enough to get Cloud back up on two legs.

“Y-Yeah. I’m…Cloud…”

Son of the Strifes. Former Shinra infantryman. A member of Avalanche. A close friend of many, a blond man who looks like a Chocobo, a dancer sometimes. A racer, a country boy, a man with a kind heart.

“You’re more than just stories to me,” Tifa clarified. “You’re someone I don’t want to lose.”

The reassurance that she gave felt warm. Against the chill of the evening air, the words and kind expressions they exchanged felt comforting. Soft, even. It felt like forever since they last slept on a bed this comfortably, let alone processed their lives after the meteor.

But the glint in Tifa’s eyes still didn’t shine as bright as it did before. She lowered her gaze again to her own hand this time; Cloud took the turn of holding her hand.

“Honestly…I’m not too sure who I am yet.” She blinked tears back rapidly to not let them fall. “Can’t believe I’m just saying stuff.”

She chuckled darkly to hide the break in her voice. “I can’t lie, I still hope that I’m someone to you.”

“Of course you are.”

Cloud was never one to say reassuring words like she would. Regardless, he tried; she was, still is, and always will be a dear friend to him. It didn’t matter who they were — in terms of a relationship and terms of their individual persons. He didn’t have the words, but he wanted her to be okay.

He spoke. “In my story, you’re the one I’ll always save. You’re the one who understands me. You’re beyond our promise and I can’t keep thanking you enough.”

Touched, Tifa smiled as a few tears escaped her eyes.

The shooting star across the sky manifested into a meteor crashing down on Earth. What luck, Tifa thought, that their wishes and promises would come back to bite them in the end.

But they saw through their ends and watched as the meteor dissipated into a shower of light that seemed like little granted wishes bursting in one go.

“Thank…you…” she swallowed. “…I still can’t get used to a kinder Cloud Strife.”

“Neither can I.”

The two laughed heartily. It was the most they’d laughed in their whole lives. They inched their bodies closer to each other, poise thrown out of the bed as they lay comfortably. Tifa stretched her leg over Cloud’s hip. He didn’t mind. Cloud used his arm as a pillow, not caring if it was cramped tomorrow. He just lived in the comfort that there would be a tomorrow.

People aren’t to be defined. People, humans, human beings — they exist beyond definitions, they are beyond what a conscience thinks of another conscience. Whether or not people are a collection of stories, the types of stories that were their memories and others didn’t matter.

Humans are humans by the virtue of allowing themselves to feel.

Tifa figured that Cloud had enough of a grasp of himself to start climbing back into the type of person he was inside. She helped him, and now he’s about to make his way back into himself.

Cloud turned to face her again, still-glassy eyes peering at her with the same promise hiding behind his mako irises.

He’ll help her ease her way back into herself. Her insecurities to be someone, her habit of adapting to other people just to be something; it’s all nonsense that she despised, it’s all things Cloud wanted gone for her own good too.

Stitching each other back into the people that they used to be was going to take time, but it’s another promise they’re willing to take up again.

Even as survivors of dark pasts that erased segments of their own persons, they looked at each other and realized that the skies in their faces reflected the warm, orange future ahead. The dawn crept across the dark navy through their windows as they finally closed their eyes, breaths slowing to resting beats, facing one another with the hard fact that neither will be alone anymore.

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted- A Plan (Chapter 2)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR- Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), hints of Liam x Madeleine

A/N1: This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon.

A/N2: Please excuse all errors, I'm posting as I leave for work. No Liam this chapter, but I promise next is ALL Liam.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Soft music filled the ballroom of the Beaumont estate. White tablecloths adorned every table, all complete with centerpieces of white and navy flowers. Servants bustled through the room clearing tables from the dinner that had just concluded, and rounded the room with Ramsford’s own sparkling wine. Nobles circulated and chatted while they waited for the proper party to begin. 

The air filled with tension only a select few could feel. 

Maxwell sat at the head table alone and watched the crowd. This was the point in the evening he would usually become a one man dancing machine, but Maxwell didn’t feel like dancing.

Since Riley disappeared, Maxwell was completely desolate. He felt like he had lost his sister, his best friend. He couldn’t fathom why she would do this. Her departure had come at such a random time, completely out of the blue; nothing about it made sense. She seemed happy. She talked like she was genuinely excited about the future. There was never any sign she regretted her decision to come to Cordonia or wished to return home. His mind’s questions had to be pushed aside, however, as they had to continue forward with the social season. 

As they left Applewood for their own estate, Bertrand’s sadness cleared, and an all-consuming cloud of anger, regret, and panic engulfed him; the realization that they were truly doomed dawned on him. With no suitor, they would face scrutiny and mockery; it was inevitable. The press would surely catch wind of their tanked finances, and now there was no end in sight.

Bertrand was incredibly upset with himself for allowing their reputation to be put in such a situation. But, he found the most fault to ultimately lie with Maxwell, for making such an irrational decision to begin with. He had only been a fool and went along with his ridiculous suggestion. 

When they arrived and found that their cleaning crew had canceled, they had to scramble to get their estate in order for their upcoming doomsday. Drake stayed behind in Applewood with Liam, and nobody else could know their situation; there was no one to call. So Bertrand and Maxwell had to roll up their sleeves and scrub the entire structure from top to bottom. They worked all day and all night; even then, Bertrand still nit-picked the job they had done. 

Bertrand had spent the entire time scolding Maxwell and continuously telling him he was at fault for their predicament. He lashed out and berated an already devastated Maxwell, but in his panicked stupor, Bertrand did not care one bit. Deep down he knew Maxwell did nothing wrong, but any rationality he had left him.

As Maxwell looked throughout the room, he spotted Liam in the corner with Drake, but twisted his gaze elsewhere. He figured if anyone had a right to be mad at him, it was Liam. He knew the turmoil he was experiencing, and couldn’t even imagine what Liam must have felt. Liam’s heartbroken face after he read her note permanently engraved itself in his mind, as well as the animalistic cry that escaped him soon after.

Maxwell had sat across from Liam at dinner, but avoided eye contact. The two didn’t speak; in fact, nobody really spoke. Regina asked about Riley’s whereabouts, but Bertrand quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. The King and Queen were the only two at the table who had even finished their meals; everyone else opted to pay more attention to the wine.  

Maxwell was pulled from his daze by Bertrand, as he tapped on his glass to get the room’s attention. “If everyone would please enter the reception hall, we will proceed with the festivities.” He stated, very matter-of-factly. 

Maxwell continued to sit in his seat and ignored Bertrand’s request. He knew it was time for their infamous toast, and his anxiety heightened the more he thought about it. Everyone expected to see three Beaumonts, and he didn’t know how Bertrand planned to spin things. 

Maxwell caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Bertrand as he stomped towards him. He let out a breath and prepared himself for the tongue lashing he was about to receive. 

“Maxwell! Get up! You have a toast to make!” Bertrand ordered.

Maxwell’s eyes widened. “What? Me? B-but… we’re supposed to do this together!” he stammered.

Bertrand scoffed, “Absolutely not! All night, I’ve had to avoid questions regarding Lady Riley’s whereabouts. Since this is your fault, you will set the record straight.”

“But-”

“But nothing! I will not take fault for the situation we’re in due to your poor choices! It’s time you owned up to your irresponsibilities! Our entire lives, I have continuously bent over backwards to fix the things that you’ve broken, but no more.” Bertrand shook his head. “I still can not believe this is happening! What would father say, Maxwell?!”

“Well, he pr-”

“He would disown you! Our reputation, our finances, it’s as good as gone! All of it! There is no solution! No one will want to do business with us! We’ll be lucky if we can stay afloat until Christmas!”

“I’m sorry, Bertrand! I didn’t mean to-”

Bertrand laughed sardonically. “Sorry won’t save you this time. You’re going to have to take responsibility for what you’ve done and deal with the repercussions. The Beaumont name will be tainted forever, but I will not allow you to bring me down with you. You, and you alone, will take responsibility for this monstrosity you've created.”

“Bertrand please! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I-I’m just as shocked as you are!” Maxwell pleaded. 

“This is not a discussion! I am telling you what is going to happen, whether you agree or not. You can continue to sit here and cry about it, or you can get up and be a man for once in your life, and take accountability for your careless decisions.” 

Maxwell continued to sit and stare wide eyed at Bertrand, as his last statement cut through his heart like a knife. He physically felt his entire soul hit the very pits of his stomach, and shatter even further. He wanted to believe Bertrand didn’t mean any of the crude things he had been saying, but the glare Bertrand gave said otherwise. Bertrand looked completely disgusted, enraged, and disappointed in Maxwell; all because he took a chance on a quirky American who had captured the heart of one of his dearest friends. 

“MAXWELL. NOW.” Bertrand boomed.

Maxwell stood from his seat and looked at Bertrand with a broken expression. “Bertrand, please… Can’t we-”

Bertrand took a step further to stand in Maxwell’s personal space and growled, “No. NO. Get this ‘we’ notion out of your head this instant! You, and you alone, will take responsibility for this; do you understand?” 

Maxwell held his intense gaze for a few brief moments before he finally relented and slightly nodded his head. He could give no other response, as his throat had constricted. He turned and made his way to the reception hall. Maxwell could feel his heart thump rapidly in his chest, as well as the wine from dinner doing somersaults in his abdomen. His hands trembled at his sides, and he felt incredibly dizzy as he slowly made his way to his destination. 

As Maxwell approached the stairs, he stopped and looked back at Bertrand, who had followed closely behind him. Maxwell gave him a look of disdain, but Bertrand gave him a stern nod of the head and ignored Maxwell’s silent plea. 

Maxwell reluctantly turned back around and trudged up the staircase. At halfway, he turned around to address the crowd. 

��H-Hello everyone… Um… So… First off, I’d like to thank you all for coming. We really appreciate you being here.” He stopped to look at Bertrand, who shook his head. “I mean, I really appreciate you being here…” he trailed off.  

Maxwell looked out into the crowd and squinted his eyes to blind his vision from the rays of chandelier lights on his face. As his eyesight re-centered, he saw every gaze in the room intently directed at him. He ran a visibly shaky hand through his hair, and attempted to continue, “Uh … Y-You’re probably wondering where Lady Riley is… And um, well… “ he tucked his chin down to his chest before he quietly and quickly spit out, “she left.”

Maxwell heard a throat clear and looked up to meet Bertrand’s steely gaze. Maxwell looked at him with sad eyes, silently begging Bertrand to end this nightmare. He held his gaze for what felt like a lifetime before Bertrand once again nodded his head in a silent order for him to continue. 

Maxwell tried to swallow the prominent lump in his throat, but it would not budge. He shuffled his feet for a moment before he cleared his throat, and abruptly and loudly blurted out, “Lady Riley is no longer in the social season.” 

Gasps and whispers filled the room. Everyone turned their heads to the person next to them to confirm they had heard him correctly. It was completely unprecedented for a house to lose their suitor, especially so close to the finish of the season. Rumors immediately started regarding why they had lost their suitor, and at such a crucial moment in time. 

Maxwell gulped, and at another stern nod from Bertrand continued. “I’d like to take this opportunity formally to accept responsibility for this……oversight. My brother trusted me to make a wise decision, and I-I failed… I failed him, I failed our country, and I failed myself…”

Drake arrived at the bar shortly later. He exited his truck and leaned up against it as he waited for Olivia’s SUV to arrive. He had tried to get Olivia to ride with him, but Olivia said she ‘would rather enter the pits of hell barefoot’ than get into his truck with him. 

As the SUV that carried Olivia pulled up, Drake crossed the parking lot to meet her as she exited the vehicle. He followed behind her as the two approached the doors. 

Upon entering the establishment, Olivia scrunched her nose. “What is that smell?”

“A bar?”

“It smells like… you… Ugh... It’s repulsive.” Olivia shuddered.

Drake stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. “Can you not be a bitch for ten seconds?”

Olivia stopped as well. “Sure, when you can refrain from being a neanderthal for three.” she retorted with a smirk as she kept her gaze straight in front of her. 

Drake sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is gonna be a long night…”

A bark of laughter escaped Olivia. “HA! You’re telling me!”

Drake put his hands up in surrender. “Look, I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s fine. But we have a common goal here. For the sake of whatever is going on, we need a truce.” 

“Not a chance.”

“Olivia.” Drake growled. 

Olivia let out a huff before she relented. “Fine. Until we figure out this maze of an ordeal, I suppose we can have a truce.”

The two shared an intense glare before Drake extended his hand for a handshake. Olivia glanced at it momentarily before she caved and lightly returned the gesture.

As she released Drake’s hand, Olivia promptly reached into her bag and pulled out a small container of hand sanitizer. She squeezed a generous amount onto the hand Drake had just shook and rubbed her palms together. 

“Seriously?!“

“What? I don’t know where your hands have been.” Olivia retorted with another shudder. She put her head up and walked further into the crowded bar. 

Drake shook his head and muttered a few obscenities under his breath, but followed her path. He scanned the crowd and noticed Maxwell sitting at a secluded table in the corner. He wore a hat and sunglasses, but was anything but subtle. The hat he wore was bright blue, with what looked to be peacock feathers etched in the design.

Drake pointed out Maxwell to Olivia, who rolled her eyes at his ensemble; the two of them made their way over to Maxwell.

As Drake approached the table, he asked, “Maxwell, what the hell are you wearing?”

“A disguise! Duh!”

“Yeah, I get what you were going for. But for the record, dark colors help hide you better.”

“This is the only hat I have!” Maxwell said as he quickly pulled the cap from his head. He tucked it into the seat next to him and took his sunglasses off before he looked back up at Drake. “It’s been a long time, Buddy! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Don’t call me Buddy.”

“But it’s been so long! Cuuummmmmmoooooon Drake, you know you missed me!” Maxwell sang at him. 

“Don’t push it.” Drake grumbled. He took a seat at the table next to Maxwell, which then revealed Olivia as she stood behind him.  

Maxwell gasped and grabbed Drake by the arm. “Drake, are you alright?! Are you sick? Do you have a fever?!” He tried to put his hand on Drake’s forehead, but Drake quickly slapped his hand away.

“I wish…”

“Ha. Ha.” Olivia said as she rolled her eyes and took the seat across from Maxwell.

Drake turned to Maxwell. “So, how are you? And yes, it has been a long time, but you still can’t call me Buddy.”

Maxwell sighed as his peppy demeanor faded, and an air of melancholy overcame his entire being. “I mean, I’ve spent the last two months hiding from the world in spreadsheets and graphs, so…”

“Why do you think you need to hide, Max? What happened wasn’t your fault!”

“Isn’t it, though? I’m the one who invited her here…” Maxwell trailed off as he picked at his napkin on the table in front of him. 

“But you are not responsible for what happened!”

“Try telling that to Bertrand…”

“He still bad?”

Maxwell cringed before responding in a quiet voice. “Yeah… I don’t think we’ll ever be the way we were before. Even with the scandal, he still blames me... Except then it changed to ‘you brought an American harlot here to represent House Beaumont'." He looked down and shook his head. “He’s told me multiple times he doesn’t want me trying to help him salvage our house’s finances. It’s only so I stay in his sight, and don’t ruin our reputation further…” He cleared his throat and looked away.

House Beaumont had been in a tumultuous time, to say the least. Rumors spread immediately regarding their suitor’s sudden departure, each with their own theory as to why. Before they were given a chance to issue a formal statement, Ana De Luca ran her story about their broken financial situation and tied the two together. That rumor ran through the mill until the Coronation, when the new conclusion for Riley’s departure came to light. But the damage had already been done to House Beaumont.

Deals started falling through and donors retracted donations. Nobody wanted to be associated with the sullied brothers; the ones who had sponsored the disgraced suitor to begin with. Stories would still occasionally run, and they were always regarding their continuous downward spiral. They had enough secured transactions to stay afloat this long, but found themselves quickly drowning in a sea of ‘no’s and denial.

Bertrand continued to berate and blame Maxwell, but Maxwell never said a word, nor challenged him; because he truly believed what he was saying to be true. He placed all blame on himself, and could only take his scoldings for his error in judgement like the ‘man’ he thought he needed to be. Maxwell had given up hope a long time ago that Bertrand would forgive him, instead he just did whatever was requested of him without hesitation or question. He did the best he could, but Bertrand always found an issue with the work Maxwell would present. 

“Damn, I’m sorry, man….” Drake responded and gave him a pat on the back, unsure of what else to say.

Maxwell shook his head in acknowledgement before an awkward silence overtook the group. Olivia sat and eyed the patrons critically and questioned why she even agreed to come. Drake took a menu and browsed the drink selection to decide what to order. Maxwell sat and stole quick glances between Olivia and Drake as he tried to decipher why the two of them had arrived together. 

“So……” Maxwell started, attempting to break the silence.

“Something to say, Beaumont?” Olivia quipped.

“Well… I was just kind of wondering why you’re here. This definitely doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

Olivia laughed. “It’s not. Unfortunately, we have business to conduct.”

Maxwell’s eyes grew wide. “Um… We? Like… with me?”

“Yes, you. But before we begin, I need you to understand that this is a delicate situation, and your utmost discretion is necessary. Can you agree to that?”

“Yes?” Maxwell responded with uncertainty. 

Olivia glared daggers at Maxwell. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Of course. How may I be of service, Duchess?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, but quietly told Maxwell about everything that she knew and her suspicions, but didn’t show him the pictures due to the capacity in the bar. Maxwell sat and listened intently to every word she said. He hung on every word she said, trying his hardest to process and keep up. 

When Olivia finished, Maxwell sat and stared into his drink for a long while. Long enough that Drake grew worried. 

“Uh, Max?” Drake asked as he tapped his arm to get his attention.

“I knew it,” Maxwell whispered as he wiped a tear from his eye, “I didn’t know what happened exactly, but I knew something wasn’t right…” he trailed off and shook his head. 

“I know, man. I kinda think we all did. But nobody had anything to back it up…” Drake ran a hand through his hair and fixed his gaze on the table in front of him.

Both men let a wave of guilt wash over them for not acting sooner. Drake and Maxwell each had their doubts with the country, and Liam’s conclusion that Riley had run off to be with Tariq. But Drake knew that with Liam as enraged as he was, bringing up the idea could have gotten him exiled, especially with no proof. 

Maxwell was put to work under Bertrand’s watchful eye, cut off from the outside world. He spent every moment he was awake with Bertrand. The only reason he managed to escape for a night was because Bertrand had a meeting and left the estate. He wouldn’t dare utter a word about his suspicions to Bertrand, as he probably wouldn’t have listened to him, even if Maxwell had said something.

Olivia sat and watched both men get lost in their thoughts. She let them wallow for only a minute or two, before she slammed her palm down on the table; causing Drake to nearly flip over in his chair, and Maxwell to almost knock his drink off the table. 

“What the hell, Olivia?!” Drake shouted.

“You two have to stop sulking! What’s happened, happened. There is nothing we can do to change that. We can, however, try to get some answers for everyone involved.” 

Olivia placed her hands on the table in front of her before she continued. “Now, Beaumont. You were the last person to physically see Riley in Cordonia, that we know of. Does anything stand out from your last conversation with her?”

Maxwell shook his head. “No. Not at all. She said she was tired and was going to head to bed. She even said she would see me in the morning!”

“Do you recall what time that was?” 

“Not really. I know it was shortly after the toasts concluded, though.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Seriously?! That was super early! I stayed down there for at least another hour, possibly two!“ 

“Was it? I didn’t think much of it. We had been traveling for days on end and any second of down time she had was spent being lectured by Bertrand.” Maxwell responded with a shrug. 

“That would make her one of the first to retire. If she had already packed, she could have easily made an escape in that time frame. Especially with everyone else still at the party downstairs.” Olivia interjected. 

Maxwell shook his head. “Her stuff wasn’t packed, not before the party anyway. I know that for a fact. I was with her before the Jamboree started while she got dressed and what not.”

Drake’s mind started running overtime. He knew he did not hear Riley at all that night. Drake had found her gone at the same time as Liam and Maxwell. He started pondering about her retiring early. If she moved fast enough, she could have packed and left before he had made it back to his room for the night. 

But would she do that?  

Olivia sighed, “Well, I’m not sure if that will be relevant, but it is worth noting.”

“We gotta take all this to Liam!” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“That’s where I started. He doesn’t think the pictures are enough proof, and her retiring early doesn’t prove much at this point either.”

“How?! I haven’t even seen the pictures, but I believe you!”

Drake answered. “I saw it in his eyes when Olivia showed ‘em to us. I know he’s thinking about it. But he’s hurt and has been since she left. He’s channeling all that humiliation and sadness into anger. And a part of me thinks he doesn’t want to admit he was wrong and didn’t jump on investigating sooner.” 

“I’d agree that would be a safe assumption. We have to find more evidence to prove to him that something did happen that night.” Olivia responded with a determined expression.

“But what do we do? Where do we even start? It’s been two months, Olivia! I want to believe that there’s something out there, but what if we’re just chasing a dead end?” Maxwell asked as he dejectedly looked into his drink.

“To start, we need to locate Tariq. I did some searching, and it seems there’s no trace of him. The last time he was seen was at the Country Jamboree.” 

“How do we do that?” Drake asked. 

“I’ll look into it. Thus far, I haven't had any luck. But, I have a contact in intelligence. Maybe I can work out a deal for Tariq’s location.” 

“What about Riley?” Maxwell asked quietly, with his gaze still fixated on his drink. 

“We will get to that. But if what Liam said was correct, Bastien already couldn’t locate her. So we may have easier luck getting to Tariq and making him talk first.”          

“What can we do in the meantime? While you try to find him?” Drake asked.

“Since the engagement tour is starting in a couple of days, we can use that as a cover for our investigation. I take it we will all be in attendance?”

“Yep.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know how much help I can be... Bertrand has already made it very clear that the only reason I’m being allowed to go with him is because the invitation was formally addressed to Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont.”

“That’s fine. We need to bide our time for the first couple of events until the court reaches Applewood. I’m not sure what we can find, given how much time has passed, but we at least need to rule it out. We must investigate any and every lead, no matter how small, and that was the last place either of them was seen in Cordonia.” 

“I agree. I’ll see if I can get Liam to tell me where they put her phone.” Drake suggested. 

Olivia raised her brows in surprise. “Wow. Good thinking, Walker. Maybe this won’t be as horrendous as I feared.” 

“You’re not the only smart one here, thank you very much.” Drake scoffed.

“Looks can be deceiving, I suppose,” Olivia smirked. 

“I always wondered about that. Why did she leave her phone? What was the purpose of that? Wouldn’t she need it?” Maxwell asked. 

“You’re right. That’s just the start of things that don’t add up, of the things Liam’s turning a blind eye to.” 

Drake nodded. “We gotta get past this wall he’s built up. I know he doesn’t believe that shit for a second.” 

Olivia laughed. “Trust me, Walker. It won’t take much. He can try all he wants, but I am better than him at his own game. I can read right through him. In his heart, he knows the truth. He’s only denying because he feels like he has to.” 

“But why? Why does he have to? He loves her! He shouldn’t be fighting us on this!” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“I know. He shouldn’t be, but he’s been through a lot. He thinks he’s protecting himself. But we will make him see the truth.” Olivia replied with utmost confidence. 

Drake gave her a determined look. “Yeah, we will. You know what? I’m gonna go see him, invite him to Applewood with us. I’ll give it my best shot and hopefully make him see reason.” He turned to Maxwell. “You can come too. Maybe if we leave the intimidating red dragon at home, he’ll actually listen.”

“Awwwww, you think I’m intimidating, Walker? How sweet of you.”

Drake ignored Olivia as he awaited Maxwell’s answer. “I… Uh… I guess I could go…” Maxwell responded in an unsure tone. 

Drake patted Maxwell on the back. “Relax. It’ll be fine. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

“... Okay, but... promise me if we decide to form an official alliance, we will be the Cordonian Power Rangers, and I get to be the blue one.” Maxwell stated with a completely firm expression. He held it for only a few moments before a small smile crept across his face.

Drake and Olivia both rolled their eyes, but Drake subtly grinned. It was nice to see bits of the old Maxwell poke through, despite everything he had been through.

Drake retrieved his forgotten menu, and finally selected a seasonal skull cracker ale; the regular skull cracker, but with a slight spice flavor added. He put his menu back in the holder before he turned his attention to Olivia. “You gonna order something?”

Olivia rose from the table and scoffed, “God no. My business here is done. I suppose I’ll see you two on the engagement tour.”

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[samanthahirr]

Hosiery Habit Headcanons

Bond washes his socks by hand, every day. Every pair of socks, no matter where he is, whether at home or on a mission. He learned in the Navy that you can never have enough pairs of clean socks (he will never speak of that month-long assignment to the rain forests of Guatemala EVER), so he religiously washes his used socks each night before sleep and lays them out to dry before he packs them away in the morning.

Felix introduces Bond to his pair of lucky socks on their first joint mission. On a Sunday morning, when Bond dons thick wool socks for their hike through the Andes, Felix slides on his lucky socks and sends his thoughts heavenward for a much-needed victory. That night, when Bond points out that Felix’s lucky socks let them down—their mission having fallen apart spectacularly—Felix checks the score on his phone and scoffs that they made two interceptions in the final quarter and won by 7 points. Bond gives him a queer look. Maybe Bond doesn’t believe in sports rituals, but Felix will do whatever it takes to support his favorite team; even if he can’t attend in person, he’s not gonna let the Saints down.

Moneypenny wears plain hose at MI6 (with the exception of her monthly, when she wears the pairs with extra tummy shaping), nude with no embellishments. Although there was one memorable holiday party when she purchased and wore a pair of full-fashioned stockings with the seam up the back that caused quite a kerfuffle. There were so many collisions and bruises amongst the staff attributed to her hosiery that HR had to request that she restrict their use to extracurricular occasions only.

Tanner makes a point of dressing appropriately and not drawing undue attention to himself. However, he has a sizable collection of novelty socks courtesy of his children’s gifts over the years, and he takes comfort in having a piece of his home life with him when at his stressful job.

Q is not a morning person and, as such, can’t be arsed to tell the difference between navy and black when getting dressed before dawn. He doesn’t give a shit whether his socks match his trousers; he has more important concerns on his mind, thank you very much. And outside of the office, he avoids socks altogether; barefoot in loafers or trainers is his preferred style.

MI6 Medical released an emergency advisory in 2019: No toe socks in the office! The infernal footwear became all the rage in 2018, and they did no harm so long as staff wore proper footwear to protect their feet in hazardous areas. But when a Q Branch technician reported to Medical limping badly, staff were appalled to find that he’d shoved his toe-socked foot into a colleague’s borrowed footwear to enter one of the more hazardous labs, and the toe-sock seams had cut off circulation to more than one toe over the course of three hours. Never again!

Alec learned early in life the importance of blending in and conforming to expectations. It earned him a reputation for being steady and dependable at the orphanage and later in the Navy. One of the easiest ways to conform was to mimic the styling of the most respected person around you. At school, it was the head boy. In the Navy, it was his commanding officer. And at MI6, it’s Bond, whose style is the fiddliest to imitate. (Those bespoke suits cost a bloody fortune!) Most obnoxious are Bond’s favorite silk-blend socks, which are nonabsorbent and require delicate washing. But Alec bides his time, keeps in line, wears the damn socks, and passes himself off as a loyal operative while he makes plans for his eventual defection….

Mallory dated a peer a couple decades back; a handsome fellow who cut a very fashionable figure. Mallory has some fond memories of their time together, as well as a keepsake set of platinum cuff links…and an unfortunate kink for sock garters. Mallory resolutely doesn’t own or wear any himself, but he’s aware that Bond and Trevelyan wear them on occasion. He does his best not to think about that when they’re seated across from him, their trouser hems riding up their ankles, eyeing how taut their socks are pulled, and wondering.

Madeleine has always hated the cold, and Altaussee is a bleak wasteland of tourists and ice. Her office, with its impractical exterior glass walls, is always two degrees lower than the interior rooms, and her usual hose doesn’t keep her ankles warm enough for a full day of listening to billionaires’ midlife crises. She’s taken to keeping a pair of double-layer cabin socks under her desk, and she kicks off her high heeled pumps and slides the cozy socks on overtop her hose every time she has an appointment in her blasted icebox of an office. 

The sweaters that Q’s cats wear are cozy. The sweaters are warm. The sweaters feel like safety and Q’s gentle fingers sliding them on. But once a year, there is more. There are hats. There are strange collars. And there are socks. The socks are the enemy. They are confinement. They are slipping imbalance. The socks slide on like punishment for imagined crimes. Q lifts his cats and places them on the cat tree. Q coos, “Don’t you look precious.” A shutter clicks, and his fingers are no longer in the way, no longer trying to stop the inevitable. The socks are prey. They must be destroyed. Long claws pierce them. Rend them. Teeth dig in, merciless, and shake them limp. Dead socks taste of cotton victory. “Sorry darlings,” Q laughs. Surely Q will learn from this. There will not be socks again. “Not for another year,” Q promises.

[darkjanet2]

Sonic Adventure 2: Sonadow

Chapter 29: Happy Ending

2 weeks later, Sonic was training at his home. He was running on the treadmill, his circulation was pumping, and he was sweating profusely. His breath was heavy, and the sweat on his face dripped down to his chest. His condition had improved immensely. His endurance was greatly boosted, his stamina was increasing, and he could run faster and farther, jump higher, fight better, and move faster. He was starting to gain muscle mass. His body was growing stronger. This improvement brought him a lot of happiness and satisfaction.

When he finished, he turned off the treadmill, stepped off of it, and stretched his muscles. His arms moved and flexed a few times.

"Man, that's a good workout!" Sonic exclaimed happily. He drank a Prime Hydrating Drink, which was flavored blue raspberry. He grabbed the towel to wipe the sweat off his face. He walked over to the bathroom and took a hot shower running through his body. As he exited the shower, he dried himself off with the towel and put on some clean gloves, socks, and shoes. He walked downstairs to the living room as he sat on the couch. He picked up the phone and texted Shadow: "Hey Shadz! Ready to go to the Shangri La Hotel? I'm ready whenever you are!"

Shadow replied quickly, "Sure thing. I'll pick you up in 20 minutes."

Sonic grinned as he went upstairs to get his suitcase and some clothes to wear. Shortly after, he heard a knock on the door. He opened the door, and Shadow entered.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"You bet!" smiled Sonic.

Shadow took out his green Chaos Emerald and shouted, "Chaos Control!"

The experience of teleporting to the entrance of Shangri La Hotel was nothing short of extraordinary. The guests were instantly captivated by the grandeur and opulence that awaited them inside. As they walked into the hotel, they were greeted by a sight that left them in awe. The hotel's walls were adorned with an elegant damask design in gold and navy blue. The intricate patterns added a touch of regality to the surroundings, further enhancing the overall ambiance of the hotel. The checkered floors were white and sapphire.

They could see the receptionist's desk at the far end as they made their way across the lobby. The receptionist, a friendly-looking woman with a bright smile, greeted them as they approached.

"Hello, welcome to Shangri-La Hotel. How may I assist you?" she asked in a warm tone.

“We’d like to get a deluxe bedroom for one night,” said Shadow.

“Sure, I'd be happy to help you get a deluxe room. We have a king-sized bed in here and a breathtaking view of the city skyline right outside the window,” said the receptionist lady.

“Cool, we’ll take it,” said Sonic as he paid her with cash. And the receptionist lady gave them a key to the room.

"Your room number is 1120,” she smiled and said, "Please make yourself comfortable."

“Thank you,” said Sonic as the two hedgehogs stepped into the elevator, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing them in a small metallic chamber.

As the elevator hummed gently, Sonic turned to his lover and said, "Thank you for taking me there, Shadow. I have a feeling that something incredible awaits us up there."

Shadow smiled warmly, “No problem at all, Sonic.”

As the doors slid open smoothly, revealing a breathtaking sight that left both hedgehogs speechless, Sonic and Shadow couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and curiosity. Before them stood an expansive room, bathed in vibrant colors and pulsating with energy. It was as if they had stepped into a portal, transporting them to another dimension entirely.

Eager to explore, they ventured further into the room and came across room 1120. Shadow swiftly unlocked the door, and as it swung open, it revealed a sight that added to their amazement. The room was decorated with elegance and finesse, boasting a king-sized bed, a sleek desk, and a small yet fully equipped kitchenette.

The desk itself was a work of art, intricately designed with delicate vines that seemed to come alive as they wrapped around its surface. The beauty and attention to detail mesmerized both Sonic and Shadow. A large, ornate mirror adorned one of the walls, mysteriously covered in a red velvet cloth.

Intrigued, Sonic approached the mirror and tentatively lifted the velvet cloth. The mirror sparkled, reflecting their astonished expressions. It held a hint of mystery as if it held the answers to untold secrets. The allure was irresistible, urging them to solve its enigma. On the dresser nearby, they noticed a sleek Smart TV, accompanied by a remote control, a notepad, and a pen. It seemed as though every detail within the room was meticulously chosen to enhance their experience.

"It's beautiful," Sonic whispered, his voice filled with wonderment.

Shadow nodded in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the mirror. "This place holds an otherworldly charm, Sonic. I can't help but feel that there's more to discover."

As they settled into their newfound sanctuary, Sonic and Shadow couldn't help but wonder what extraordinary adventures awaited them, sparked by the magic and secrets hidden within this room. Little did they know, this was just the beginning of an epic journey beyond their wildest imaginations.

With a sigh of relief, Sonic flopped down onto his bed, letting his tired body sink into the soft mattress. His mind wandered back to the days when he was just a curious little hedgehog, always on the lookout for adventure. He remembered how he discovered his incredible speed and the thrill it brought him.

“This bed is so cozy, it's like being wrapped in a cloud,” said Sonic as he snuggled on the pillow.

Shadow smirked as he lay down on the bed, he sank into the softness, feeling the warmth envelop his body. The smooth, silky sheets caress his skin as if they were made just for him. The pillows were like heavenly marshmallows, perfectly plump and supportive. It was as if he was being cradled in a cocoon of comfort.

“Oh, yeah, that feels good,” said Shadow, he relaxed his body into the plush mattress.

Sonic smiled as he leaned forward to kiss Shadow’s lips, their lips met in a tender and unexpected kiss, igniting a fierce spark within them. It was like an explosion of electricity coursing through their bodies, igniting a connection that had always been simmering beneath the surface.

Each touch, each caress, only fueling the fire that burned within them. They reluctantly broke the kiss, their eyes locked, filled with a newfound sense of love. It was not a declaration of love but an acknowledgment of a bond that transcended their rivalry. Sonic and Shadow's relationship would forever be marked by that single stolen moment.

Later that night, Shadow sat alone in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixed intensely on the television screen. He was watching Hitman: Agent 47 but his mind was only half-focused on the film's unfolding action. The movie's protagonist, a skilled assassin, moved with a precision that Shadow couldn't help but admire. Yet, there was a distant look in Shadow's eyes, as if the flickering images were a mere backdrop to a deeper, more pressing contemplation.

The door was heard open, Sonic came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his blue fur damp with hot steaming water droplets that reflected the light, giving him an almost sparkling appearance. His normally spiky quills lay flat and slicked back from the water, a rare sight that showcased a different side of the usually energetic hedgehog.

Shaking off the last few droplets, he grabbed a comb from the counter and began to work through his quills, setting them back into their iconic windswept style. The mirror reflected a focused determination in his emerald-green eyes, he looked perfect.

He turned toward Shadow, who was lying on the bed, his eyes reflecting a quiet anticipation. Gently discarding the damp towel that had been wrapped around his waist, he crawled across the cool sheets, the air charged with the intimacy of the approaching moment. He pulled Shadow into his embrace and kissed him passionately, his hands threading through his quill as if trying to memorize the feel of him.

Shadow playfully darted his tongue, engaging in a mischievous dance with the azure hedgehog's mouth, and let out a moan from his mouth. Shadow's hands tentatively cupped Sonic's face, drawing him closer with a careful, almost reverent touch. Their lips met in a hesitant embrace, a silent question that Sonic answered by deepening the kiss. Their tongues entwined a delicate exploration that soon grew bolder. A low moan vibrated from Shadow's throat, resonating with the newfound intensity of their connection.

He moved with deliberate grace, his lips finding their way to the soft, azure fur of Sonic's neck. The touch was gentle, a crimson contrast against the bright blue that defined his rival. As Shadow kissed his neck, a tranquil sigh escaped Sonic’s lips, a sound that spoke of trust and a bond that had deepened beyond the fiery clashes of their past.

As their kiss deepened, Shadow's hands slid lower and brushed against Sonic's tail. It was a sensitive spot for Sonic and he let out a soft moan at the touch. Shadow took this as encouragement and continued to stroke and tease the tail, earning more moans from Sonic.

Their bodies pressed closer together as they explored each other's mouths with an increasing hunger. Sonic could feel the heat building between them, his heart racing with desire. He had never felt so alive, so connected to someone before.

He wanted more, needed more, and it was making him crazy. But most importantly, he wanted Shadow. Sonic gently nipped at Shadow's ear lobe as he bit his lip, causing the latter to gasp, “Mmmm, ohhh.” He then slowly trailed kisses down his jawline towards his collarbone, where he nibbled gently.

Sonic crawled down the rest of the bed until he was lying on top of Shadow, straddling him. Slowly lowering himself, he rested his weight on one leg as he positioned himself above Shadow, leaning over him with his hands supporting his upper body. Shadow's eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head back in surrender, granting Sonic complete access to his neck.

He stroked his manhood gently with his hand, causing Shadow to release a soft moan as he arched upward slightly. Suddenly, Sonic stopped and stared into Shadow's eyes, his crimson irises dilated with lust and want. He began to suck his hard member to his mouth slowly and rhythmically, taking his time to savor the taste of the male on his tongue.

"Ahhh...," Shadow moaned again, his body shaking slightly with passion.

Sonic sucked harder, his fingers brushing against Shadow's clothed cock. His breath quickened at the thought of his quills teasing and playing around with Shadow's length. Sonic spat onto his shaft, the saliva glistening in the candlelight as he took the head of his penis in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip, causing Shadow to let out another soft moan of ecstasy and excitement.

His hand traveled up along Shadow's cock as he continued to suck hungrily on the shaft. Sonic ran his free hand along Shadow's torso slowly, feeling his muscles flexing with delight at his touch. Finally, he reached the base of his cock, running his fingers along the smooth skin and pulling gently. He lightly nipped at the flesh, eliciting a grunt of pleasure.

When he had enough sucking, Sonic lifted his head from Shadow's shaft and gazed deeply into his crimson eyes, a playful smile dancing upon his lips.

"You're going to have to put yourself out there for me tonight,” he whispered, “I'm getting wetter and hotter every passing second."

Shadow swallowed hard, the words spoken by Sonic sent chills down his spine and caused his heart to pound wildly within his chest. He gently stroked his cock and lifted himself to position himself above Shadow, positioning himself between his legs. He slowly pushed himself into his entrance, moaning softly as the heat began to radiate throughout his body. His cock slid easily inside of Sonic, his eyes closing at the sensation of finally fitting themselves together, the warm liquid surrounding them, creating a pleasant friction.

"You're gonna make my toes curl," breathed Shadow in bliss, his head thrown back as he reveled in the euphoria.

Sonic laughed softly as he continued thrusting his hips, his eyes now closed in bliss as well. He gripped Shadow's muscular chest tightly in an attempt to ground himself. After a few moments, his thrusts became quicker and harder. As he began to move his hips frantically, his movements quickly grew faster and harder. His body trembled violently underneath Shadow. He placed his hands on Sonic's hips and dug his fingers into his buttocks, trying to steady him as he pumped in and out of his boyfriend. Shadow felt himself growing close as he held onto Sonic tightly, his body becoming tense as the pleasure grew stronger.

"Hnnh...," grunted out Shadow, the sound coming from between clenched teeth.

"Ahh... fuck!" moaned Sonic, his eyes tightly shut, his breathing rapidly escalating as he fought the waves of arousal crashing inside of him.

Sonic took Shadow's hands entwined with his as he continued bouncing his hips furiously and moaning loudly. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped down his face as intense waves of pleasure crashed through his system. Shadow flipped the blue hedgehog over, holding both sides of his hips as he started thrusting into Sonic roughly causing him to moan in pleasure, his quills ruffling in the air. Shadow leaned forward, his lips colliding forcefully with Sonic's, tasting the salty tang of the sweat from his heated face.

Their mouths moved feverishly together, the passion of their kiss growing with every thrust. They made passionate love as the fire burned between them. He felt Sonic's passage tighten around his cock causing a wave of dizzy ecstasy to wash over him. He could feel his orgasm starting to build, he knew this was exactly what he needed. He needed it to be even greater than it ever had been before, he just needed it! Needed it! Needed it!

"Aaah....! Sonic... I'm gonna cum!" Shadow yelled.

"Cum inside me," said Sonic hoarsely, panting heavily.

With a deep grunt, Shadow shot his seed inside Sonic, his whole body shuddering uncontrollably and his back arching upwards. Sonic gave a moan, his quills shooting up as he came hard into the other's stomach. Both of them collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted from their passion. They lay tangled together, chests heaving as they attempted to catch their breaths. Sonic's arms snaked around Shadow's waist, his fingers tracing small, tantalizing circles on his fur.

A few seconds later, Shadow lifted his head to look at Sonic, his eyes were closed and his cheeks flushed with adoration, his chest was rising up and down as he caught his breath.

"Are you okay?" asked Shadow.

Sonic opened his eyes, his emerald orbs glistening with affection. "Yeah... Just give me a minute to recover, I guess."

Shadow got off of Sonic as he turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. With a small smirk, he wrapped an arm around Sonic's waist and pulled him close. Sonic giggled lightly at the gesture before pressing his face against Shadow’s chest, enjoying the warmth emanating from the dark hedgehog. The scent of cinnamon filled the room, a pleasant aroma that calmed his nerves and rejuvenated his energy.

"Hmm... that was awesome," said Sonic, giving a content sigh as he tightened his grip around Shadow’s midsection.

"Indeed," said Shadow with a chuckle, wrapping both arms around his lover to pull him closer.

Sonic looked up at him, gazing into his red irises. A smile spread across his lips. "You know, Shadow..." he whispered as he looked into Shadow’s gaze.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I love you," said Sonic.

"I love you, too, Sonic," said Shadow, resting a tender kiss on his head. And with that said, their lips finally joined together, their bodies still intertwined with each other as their hearts beat fast, full of passion.

THE END

[compellingselling]

Guaranteed to win the Cannes Media Grand Prix. In 2006.

Another fun puzzle. But this one is much harder than the Tesco billboards two posts back. Find the Navy Special Ops soldiers hidden in ads throughout the magazine. Take a close look at the Miami ad. I'll give the answer at the bottom of the post.

But first, I know what you're thinking.

"Does anyone under 70 read magazines anymore?!"

Right. Seems a little late for this. Like by a decade or two.

And what big-time magazine cooperated with this genius media play? Skip Shot, the official quarterly magazine of US Water Polo. So not a magazine with a huge circulation.

Then again, if the Navy is after disciplined, buff people who don't mind spending a lot of time in the water, maybe it's a smart buy.

I imagine they were hoping to get a bunch of free publicity for the stunt their target would see. It's been a week, and so far the only coverage they've gotten has been from ad sites. Maybe they needed more NBA players and Fruity Pebbles.

And I hate to break it you, VML, but if Skip Shot isn't a member of the National Magazine Association, you don't qualify for a Kelly Award. If they're still giving out Kelly Awards.

The answer: Find the former captain of a water polo team in the scenic swamp, just above the second "u" in "artventurous."

Try to find the Special Ops soldiers in the other ads via The Ad Spot