#he takes off his uniform and its a different story

[sometimesanalice]

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.  

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass.  A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission.  “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 9 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 9 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Kind of a short update this time! It spans parts 140 to 157.

As a reminder, only Vil is following Yuu and co. into the next dream. This is because traveling around with too many people may cause a bug in Idia’s dream hacking and/or it may make it easier for Malleus to notice them.

They land in Kalim’s dream!! There is a segment where Vil freaks out about falling and we get to see his cute squeaky-voiced vulnerable side again. (Yes, the others tease him about it 😂)

They use DREAM FORM CHANGE to swap between dorm uniform (for combat) and school uniform (for general interactions within the dream).

And this new location is…

HUH WHATm/s tHIS?????

It seems like the Scalding Sands, but we’ve never seen this before.

OOP THEre’S THE BOY

Those colors look really good on him!! But the hat looks like it’s floating or sitting on just the scalp… It feels like maybe it should be further down on his head. (Sorry about the weird screenshot chsvskwguejsk)

Kalim doesn’t seem to recognize our squad, nor NRC. He says that he goes to Qasr Sultanate Academy (guess that’s where the name of his new uniform comes from). It is founded on the generous spirit of the Oasis’s Master (the Sultan). The school was established 2 years ago by his rich ass father, since this area did not have a magic school prior to that. THIS IS NEPOTISM AT ITS FINEST, FOLKS

***Note: "qasr" -> castle or palace, "sultanate" -> a place governed by a sultan!***

Idia reasons that Kalim might be this way to avoid the tragedies that play out at NRC. The dream is sheltering him…

Everyone is dying of heat, so Kalim uses his UM to give them cool drinking water. He also has some servants (no Jamil) bring the roof over to them to help them cool off???

BUT THEN jAMIL PULLS UP AnD

iT’S SO WEIRD, WhY’ShE SO PERKY AnD KIRAKIRA…………………… ……. …… …. … . ……. .. . … …. . . . HE;S SMILING TOO MUCH, IT;S SUS...... THIS iS wROng (Side note, those colors are also nice on him!)

Dream!Jamil explains that he was hired by Kalim’s father but that their families never cared about their different statuses. In this dream, they basically grew up as real childhood friends and always talk honestly with each other.

The group reminds Kalim that Jamil isn’t REALLY like this. Vil especially lays into him, roasting Jamil’s character and going into how untrustworthy he is, etc.

Jamil tries to keep Kalim in the dream by using Snake Whisper. Eventually Kalim has his breakthrough, which is where the Groovy for his new card comes from. He realizes that he believed in a false yet convenient Jamil, he cannot face him anymore.

WAHHHHH look at him 😭 He’s leaking like a faucet… but he’s also trying so hard to wipe away his tears, to be strong and stand on his own to fight against the fake Jamil! Let’s give him a round of applause, folks 👏

(This also means that there is potentially a pattern being established with these new limited main story cards; the Groovies will probably be the character crying as they have their realization that this world is a fake one. Does that mean… Crying J word next time??????? Maybe??? Or nah??? 😭 GOD PLEASE NO MY HEART WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT—)

Vil tells Kalim that he also did something embarrassing in his own dream so it’s fine. Kalim callously laughs when he hears about Vil bossing Neige around, then quickly apologies because he realizes he was supposed to deny how bad it is.

Kalim joins the party!! He says it feels weird because usually Jamil is the one to wake HIM up.

They hop into Jamil’s dream!! They appear to have landed in a Silk City bazaar. Ortho takes headcount of them like they’re students on a casual field trip, lol

Kalim enjoyed the jump but Vil seems to be having a hard time keeping up. Ortho and Silver will stay with Vil while the rest of them look for Jamil.

Yuu and co. fuck around in the market a little, getting coconut juice (well, Kalim buys 10 at once) and whatever. Guys… now is seriously NOT the time.

While giving them juice, the vendor suddenly becomes hostile towards Kalim and demands payment instead of letting him put it on his family’s tab.

OMG?????? Apparently in Jamil’s dream, the Al-Asims are broke and scam free stuff from the vendors 😭 WHILE JAMIL IS RICH AF

The vendor is calling the POLICE

Silver comes running to save the day!! He says he will pay for his friends and we avoid being hauled off to jail ✨

We continue our search for Jamil, deciding to trek to Kalim’s home in Silk City since that’s where the Vipers live irl. INSTEAD THEY FIND THIS DESOLATE PLACE (reusing the dried up oasis background)

A bystander explains that the Asim familt’s business failed so they had to give up their house. It got moved and repainted black and red… AND NOW JAMIL’S THE MASTER 💀

A guard comes to chase them off and recognizes Kalim as a servant. Turns out, the Vipers bought the old Asim home and employed them as servants to help them out.

… I saw this coming from a mile away, but the cringe of seeing it for myself is too much to bear…

LMAO????? Now we get a rhythmic/twistune of Yuu and co. marching in a parade with Jamil at the head of it.

WhAT YHE FUCK iS ThiS InTERIOR DESIGN, THAT’S LITERLLY A STatUE OF jAfAR DoING THE GOLFING SWING

Jamil is not enrolled in NRC; he is also enrolled in a new magic school called Jahir Sahar College (?).

***Note: "jahir" -> jewels, "sahar"/"sehri" -> wizard or magic!***

Jamil scolds Kaim for wearing a uniform of the wrong color and “corrects” it for him. Kalim casually says thank you but Jamil tells him it is, “JAMIL-SAMA, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!” He reminds Kalim that the Asims owe the Vipers a debt so large that they cannot hope to repay it in their lifetime, so be sure to be useful to him.

… Bro is power tripping so hard 😭

Jamil becomes suspicious of us but Vil plays it off like we’re students come to research the Scalding Sands for a Film Club activity. He allows us to stay but backhanded comments that we look dumb so we won’t pose a threat.

Jamil then offers to give us a tour SiNCE HE’S THE STUDENT COUNCiL PRESIDENT (Rollo called he wants his title back). I’m guessing this is the case instead of him being dorm leader so Jamil is the ONLY top dog around.

Oh yeah!! Minor thing, magic carpet comes in at some point. Its its colors are closer to that of the magic carpet in the Aladdin film.

He orders Kalim to prepare a feast; Kalim provides water with Oasis Maker and grabs food from the kitchen—all of Jamil’s favorites! But no matter how eager to please he is, Jamil tells him off and makes remarks about how useless Kalim is 😔

xbshgejwgsowkw Yuu and co. are like “WOW, Jamil’s imagination is so strong so it’s going to be hard to wake him up!!” It’s okay, you can say he’s delusional/j

Jamil wavers a little because Kalim begins talking about their childhood memories. It’s stirring up his own recollections, and I think the dream’s interpretation of these evens is clashing with the reality that Kalim shares.

Blah blah blah

Dream!Kalim arrives to kiss Jamil’s ass :v aaand Jamil descends into the darkness…

What we see is a potential future in which Jamil succeeded in book 4; Azul and the Scarabia mobs are under his hypnotic influence… Kalim is gone… and Jamil plans to use the dirt Azul has collected to blackmail the other dorm leaders and take them down. (This lends credence to the idea of him being student council president in his dream because he wants to be the ONLY one in charge.)

LMAO????? Jamil shit talks the dorm leaders 💀 Like saying that no one likes Riddle anyway, how Leona is probably another lazy nepo baby, etc.

AnD THEN AfTER THE DoRM LEADERS HE’s PlANNING ON GOInG AfTER CROWlEY’S iRRESPONSibLE aSS 😭 Jamil has his sights set on ruling over the entire school…

AyO??????????

I THINK KALIM PUNCHED JAMIL AnD THEYmRE fISTFIGHTING?????? PLEASE, THIS IS PATHETIC

They shout about the things they hate the most about each other. Jamil hates Kalim’s optimism, Kalim finally FINALLY declares that he hates how two-faced Jamil is. It’s so intense even the hypnotized students are stunned????

Sebek wants to pummel Jamil too but Silver holds him back. His reasoning??? Sometimes people get emotionally charged and it’s better for them to let those out through their fists instead of their words.

I cannot believe that Silver Vanrouge in our lord 2024 really went, “No, no. Let them cook :)” 🤡

Kalim starts laughing because this is a unique experience to him?? Apparently he and Jamil never fought for real in the 17 years they knew each other. Jamil agrees and says if he neat Kalim up “irl” it would cause problems for everyone… and he realizes his wording and begins questioning the dream world because of that.

He finally wakes up! xbsnbsjwkwkwvdk Kalim is so excited his live 2D model is bouncing on the screen!

The goop returns and drags Jamil to a familiar scene where he OBs and then squares off against his Phantom, similar to what happened with Idia and Vil. Jamil calls his OB self pathetic and always looking for someone to blame. He now sees that view as narrow-minded and limiting.

His Phantom tries to goad him by likening their situation to being genies trapped in a dark and small space, existing to be used their entire lives and not being allowed the freedom they wish for. Admittedly, Jamil has pretty cool lines, saying he doesn’t like the Phantom forcing its own wishes on him. He’s reclaiming his freedom by renouncing the idea of pitying himself. He doesn’t plan to spend his whole life inside that lamp and his wallowing, he is going to make his own wishes come true—not 3 or 10 or 100, but every single one.

(Cue insane Jamil laughter here)

He of course gains the upper hand and rises victorious. Jamil tells Dream!Kalim that he is so polite and subservient it’s disgusting, then he uses Snake Whisper to send him away.

Jamil says there’s no point in changing roles or positions because ultimately the power to decide what happens is his and his alone. He also says he is not interested in power or freedom granted to him by someone else… He will take what he wants on his own! (Not sure why he’s announcing this when no one asked, but pop off I guess 😂 Vil gave a similar speech when he was facing his own demons, but shorter and I don’t think Idia just mumbled to himself before getting back in contact with Ortho.)

Meeting back up with Yuu and co., Jamil is added to the party! (Kalim tries to glomp him in a hug but Jamil expertly dodges ‘xbssvzjav$c(/?/)

Okay, so Vil is staying behind because he doesn’t feel well and doesn’t want to hold the group back. Kalim also stays behind because he’s still covered in bruises and such from fist fighting Jamil. This will probably be another pattern that occurs moving forward; only the OB boy moves on with the group.

Next time… Octavinelle’s dreams and maybe J word crying card 👀!

I think by this time, we already know what to expect in terms of general events. Going into a dream, experiencing it for a short time, learning shocking news about the circumstances, character uses UM, character learns the truth, character cries and fights the dream (who is trying to keep them there), character joins party. If it’s an OB boy, then they will get more screen time and a dedicated segment to fighting their Phantom and then giving a speech about their character development before joining us. Then only the OB boy will dream hop with the Yuu, Grim, Silver, Sebek, Idia, and Ortho while the boys stay behind with the projected selves Ortho creates. Rinse and repeat the formula, and you can probably easily predict what’s coming in future updates.

In terms of this update, I gotta say that I’m impressed Kalim finally followed through on the promise of decking Jamil… a promise he made all the way back in book 4!! While he doesn’t do it with any malicious intent, I think it’s a large stride going forward in having Kalim assert himself and acknowledge the faults that Jamil very obviously has.

As for Jamil... I think it’s becoming pretty obvious what they’re going for in those OB boy scenes; clearly, they mean to have it be like he is speaking to his “other half” in the mirror, a reflection of himself. In this way, each boy confronts the worst aspects of them and comes to terms with it. It’s meant to represent their character growth from when they first appeared in the main story. I’m just… not sure if I like how it’s been handled overall; I do like everyone’s speeches so far (they are good; Jamil’s especially slays with all the thematically appropriate allusions to genies and wish-granting), but I’m less enthusiastic about the context under which these speeches are given. I will most likely make a separate post going into detail about this, but I figured I’d at least lay my general thoughts out here first.

ahbfbyoqwv8yfqwv8q The highlight of this update this time was just seeing how unhinged Jamil's desires are when given no limitations. It's such a shockingly large role reversal to stick himself in the head honcho seat with zero opposition AND force Kalim into being humbled. When the tables turn on him, Jamil is so quick to being a ruthless and cold master 💦 HE'S FR THE TYPE OF GUY THAT ISNT JUST SATISFIED SUCCEEDING, HE ALSO NEEDS YOU TO FAIL The more of these dreams we see, the more we get the sense that Malleus's idea of happiness is VERY shallow. This was something already verbalized by Idia last update, but I feel it needs repeating because of how difficult to resolve Kalim and Jamil's relationship is. The way his solutions are so... absolute (Kalim and Jamil being besties and/or a complete role reversal) reminds me of the points I often hear from fans who say, "Kalim could free Jamil! Kalim should talk to his dad!" There's good intentions behind it, but it ultimately misses the forest for the trees (that being the complicated social nuances surrounding their families). It's an out-of-body experience seeing that viewpoint displayed via Malleus's magic, but it also feels cathartic to see it being dispelled as being nothing close to reality.

Those are all my thoughts for now!! Really looking forward to the next installment :)) and its potential for... crying J word... Though who knows, maybe it’s just for light trio only and I’m delulu—

[sant-riley]

[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]

A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!

CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)

If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."

The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.

Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.

Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!

Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt

Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass

Price: Rookie, Dear

Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun

They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.

Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.

The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.

Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.

He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.

Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.

Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.

Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.

HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.

Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.

Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.

"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"

He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.

You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.

No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.

Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.

Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.

Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.

Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.

They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.

"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.

Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.

Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10

Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.

Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.

Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)

@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx

[wardenparker]

Mysterious Masquerade, part 2

Oberyn Martell x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.4k Warnings: Food/alcohol, cursing, flirting and sexy themes. Sugar daddy/baby perceived power imbalances. But honestly this whole extended polycule is pretty emotionally healthy. Spoiler warning in the tags! Summary: Your relationship with Oberyn will change your life forever, and in the very best ways. Notes: Just a cutie little ending for a cutie little story. Next week we step up the spice level with Pero! (As always, sorry for any errors I missed in proofreading. I'm under the weather today so it might be more than average. Enjoy!)

There are almost more bags than you and Ellaria can carry together when you arrive back to the mansion several hours later. Between things for the house and things for the two of you, you stopped into nearly every store and usually made at least one small purchase if not something more.

Ellaria hands her bags over to a young man in a uniform at the door and without a word he is gone again— presumably to sweep her things away to wherever they belong. When a different young man in the same uniform approaches you, you have no idea what to say at all.

“Charlie, be a dear and put her belongings in the purple suite.” Ellaria decides. “We will move them if the accommodations aren’t to her liking.”

The second young man is gone in a flash, and you offer Ellaria a smile. "I don't know that I'll get the hang of how this house operates too quickly. I'm sorry in advance."

“Do not even worry about that.” She laughs. “You just ask anyone and they can tell you how Oberyn likes things.”

"He seems very flexible about some things and very set in his way about others," you observe. "I just don't want to disappoint him."

“You won’t.” She promises. “He might be a bit odd but he is rather accommodating most of the time.”

"Odd can be wonderful." That is something you have always believed, but even as you smile you look around the first floor of the mansion. "I suppose...I suppose he's probably busy? I thought he would have come to see you when you came home."

She looks around for a moment, as if she is surprised now that you mention it. “He is probably in his office.” She hums. “Or in the training room. Probably the training room.”

"Training room?" Your raised eyebrow is surprise not only that such a room exists but that a seemingly consummate man of luxury would be using it.

Her smirk is nothing short of wicked and she takes your hand. “You have not begun to drool until you see him training.” She cackles.

"I'm intrigued and excited." With a shared grin, you take Ellaria's arm and let her lead the way.

Off the west wing of the house is a gym. One that Oberyn had outfitted for any and all of the training that he desires. The man has extreme discipline and besides being wealthy, he also loves to fight.

The air in the gym is warm and damp when you step inside with Ellaria, as if someone was doing hot yoga inside, but the sounds coming from the ring in the center of the room are simply not what anyone would hear in a yoga studio.

Oberyn is moving around the space with the grace and force of a lion on the hunt. The staff in his hands is a fearsome weapon all on its own, but Ellaria brings you up to the edge of the ring to watch as he leans it against the safety buffers on the edge of the ring and begins to pummel the dummy up on the nearby platform.

He’s shirtless. The man would fight nude if he could get away with it, but many other men found that intimating unless there was a bet to have to winner fuck the loser. Which had happened a few times. “Now you know how he keeps in shape to exhaust you in bed, Dove.” She whispers, her own eyes fixed on his lean and graceful form.

"Both of us," you remind Ellaria, though your mouth is watering at the sight of him. It's primal. Primitive. And you're not embarrassed by it for one single second. "I've never considered working out to be a spectator sport before."

“The best part?” Ellaria grins as she looks over at you. “Sparring, fighting? It makes this man feral.” She snorts. “Our last child was definitely conceived after a match.”

"I have the sudden urge to be ringside very often." Primal. Primitive. And completely sexy. You could just stand here and watch for as long as he'd let you, and if what Ellaria is saying is true, he would let you stay as long as you wanted. Only to haul you off and fuck you right after.

“I thought you might.” She laughs. “It doesn’t hurt that the men he spars with are delectable in their own right.”

"Never considered myself an overly sporty but a gal can change," you laugh, grinning at her while you both watch Oberyn work.

“Now you know how I stay in shape.” She agrees and looks back over at him. “He’s still the most gorgeous man I have ever fucked. And he knows it.”

At another point in your life it might have been odd or even bothered you to be standing beside the other woman that your lover is actively sleeping with. The woman he truly loves. The woman who has been in his life for many, many years and will still be here long after the quality of shiny newness has rubbed off of you. But right now all you can do is bring your eyes back to Oberyn and breathe out a quiet, wistful sigh. "I don't think it would be possible to find a more gorgeous man in the entire world."

“And intelligent,” she shakes her head. “The man holds three master’s degrees. Got bored halfway through his doctorate.”

"Are you serious? Oh come on!" You huff, much more loudly and more exasperatedly than you mean to, and cover your mouth instantly but the damage is done as your voice echoes through the space.

Oberyn stops his work out, turning to face both you and Ellaria with a low brow and heaving chest. “Something wrong, Dove?” He asks, tossing down the staff and sauntering over to the edge of the ring to grab his towel and water bottle.

"No!" This time your voice is an embarrassed squeak, and your hand covers your face as entirely as you can manage it. "No, I—Ellaria was just telling me something and I was surprised. I'm sorry to interrupt you."

“Oh?” He glances over at his lover and guesses that it’s nothing too horrendous because of her slight smile. “Care to share with me?” He asks teasingly, wiping the dripping sweat from his face and chest. “I like surprises.”

He's so fucking sexy it's distracting is all you can think for a few seconds before you shake your head clear and then clear your throat. "She was saying that you got bored halfway through your doctorate. I had no idea you had so many degrees, that's all."

He chuckles, watching you squirm so prettily and he shrugs. “I got bored after a while.” He admits easily. “It took away from my time seducing beautiful women.” He leans on the ropes and leers at you. “Like the two in front of me now.”

"We had a very successful day, lover." Ellaria reports happily, leaning over the ropes to accept the kiss that she has unquestioningly earned.

“Have you?” He muses with a hum and reaches for her to drag her close for a very thorough kiss.

It isn't jealousy that curls in your stomach but interest, wondering if you look at effortlessly and artfully beautiful kissing Oberyn as Ellaria does. If that is how deep he kissed you that first night together or if there is some deeper level reserved only for her. If there is, it makes this a privilege to bear witness to.

When he pulls away, he pecks her lips again and winks as he pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises before he turns to you. “Now it’s your turn.”

He doesn't hesitate, reaching for you and surprising you by putting the same passion into kissing you as though you had been gone for weeks or months and seen him the day before yesterday. You lean into it happily, tilting your head to the side without hesitation to let the kiss deepen as much as he likes.

Oberyn likes that you don’t pull away. You aren’t shy about kissing him in front of his paramour. Groaning into your mouth, he lets the kiss last just as long as the one he gave Ellaria before he pulls away.

“I should get to unpacking,” Ellaria announces breezily, giving you a kiss on the cheek and Oberyn a healthy leer before she saunters back in the direction that you came. “See you at dinner, darlings!”

He chuckles as he looks towards you. “Looks like we are alone.” He murmurs, his voice dropping silkily and full of innuendo.

“Apparently so.” His voice makes you shiver when it gets husky like that and you don’t bother to disguise it. Not knowing everything that Ellaria told you today.

“Did you enjoy yourself today, Dove?” He asks, lifting a brow curiously.

“I did.” Ellaria had been a bit gentler in her nudging after your talk at lunch, but certainly had not let up at all. She had made it a game to keep you amused, and to keep you from feeling guilty. “I had a very interesting conversation with Ellaria at lunch.”

“You did?” He flings the towel over his shoulder and steps through the ropes to hop down the small step to the floor beside you. “Did you enjoy the interesting conversation?”

“Ellaria seems to think you want to keep me.” An amused smirk curls into the corner of your lips and you decide not to disguise your interest in his sweat-covered body. “Any chance you know where she might have gotten that idea?”

“Because my paramour is not stupid.” The playful coy smile is the first indication you aren’t opposed to it. “She knows what I like, what intrigues me.”

“And you are intrigued by me?” You ask, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Obsessively.” He teases, leaving in and nudging his nose against yours.

“Then I think we ought to talk about what kind of arrangement you’d like.” Nudging his nose back, you pull away after a second and look him in the eyes. “Because I want to know what you’re asking me to promise before I say yes to anything.”

“You did have a thorough conversation.” Oberyn wraps his hand around your wait. “Come shower with me and we will negotiate.”

******

There can be no negotiations in the shower. Once he has his arms around you with the hot water streaming down both of your bodies, you would promise him anything. That doesn't stop him from trying to get you to negotiate while he's fucking you so deeply that it punches the breath from your lungs, but considering you can barely moan out any words besides curses and his name? That's fighting dirty, and he eventually agrees to put off the conversation.

Once you're clean, fucked into a puddle, and then clean all over again, Oberyn wraps you up in a plush bathrobe that matches his own and sprawls out with you on the plush sofas in his room.

“So what would you demand of me?” He asks, a cup of wine in one hand while his arm that is under you has slipped beneath your robe and strokes your belly. “Anything you can think of?”

"I was more interested in hearing what you might demand of me," you admit, leaning into his side and sipping your wine along with him. "Ellaria wouldn't be specific about her arrangement with you, so I still don't really know how any of this would work except that I would live here and be your lover."

“If we have a child or children together, you would never keep them from me.” That is his number one rule. “You are honest with me, I will always be honest with you.”

"Is it expected of me to have your child?" Being prepared for the responsibility and possibility is far different than contracting out mothers, and while you don't expect that answer from Oberyn, you do have to ask the question.

“No.” He would never expect that of you, of anyone. “It would only be if you wanted it.”

"I'm glad to hear you say that." It helps you relax more into his side, and you take another sip of wine. "Go on?"

“Every year we are together, you will have one million dollars times the number of years, deposited into an account that is solely held by you.” Oberyn hums. “That is non-negotiable.”

You start so violently at the number that you barely manage to escape spilling on yourself, bolting upright to face him on the sofa. "For what?" That is the part that baffles you. He can't just be paying you for sex. There are enough brothels in the city to satisfy even him. He doesn't need to do that.

“For your own independence.” It sounds counterintuitive, but he had found that he felt better knowing that Ellaria has the means to do whatever she wishes and yet she still stays by his side. Some have called her a whore, a gold digger, but she is far wealthier than any who would talk behind her back.

"So you're going to...house me, feed me, fuck me, be totally okay with me fucking other people if I want to, pay me...and it's...literally just...because you can?" That kind of wealth is baffling, but it also speaks to his enormous heart. That he would offer to take care of his lovers entirely purely because he cares about them.

He’s never looked at in that light. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” He snorts. “But…yes.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. “What’s the point of being rich if you can’t do what you want?”

On anyone else the cockiness might seem flippant or disingenuous, but when it comes from Oberyn it is oddly charming. At the moment you can really only shake your head at him in disbelief. "May I be honest? Since that is one of your conditions?"

“Always.” He chuckles softly, his fingers squeezing the flesh on your belly gently. “What are you thinking, Dove?”

"That..." The thought had passed over and over in your head on the way back from your afternoon with Ellaria, and finally settled into your heart as you worked through it in your head. "I would feel more comfortable having some sort of job. Whether that is working for you somehow or even keeping my morning job, or finding something else. I just...I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have something to keep me busy."

“Whatever you want to do.” He agrees easily. “If you want to go back to school, we can make that happen.”

Now that is a thought. You'd marked your own jealousy hearing Ellaria list off his degrees earlier, and you had also been talking to her about higher education at lunch today. 'I'll think about it," you agree, though you know your heart has already latched on to the possibility of more schooling just the way it latched on to Oberyn himself. The reckless embrace of someone full of love and looking for someone to give it to.

He nods and his fingers continue to caress your skin. “There will be times you need to travel with me.” He adds. “But if your schedule conflicts, it would be understandable.” He doesn’t expect his lovers to be at his beck and call.

"Where do you travel to?" When he looks a touch surprised that you don't already have some kind of idea, you smile sheepishly. "Remember, I didn't recognize you after the party. I don't know all the Martell gossip the way everyone around here seems to."

“All over the world, Dove.” He smiles. “Martell Enterprises has its fingers in many pies.”

A moment of childish amusement has you snorting out a little laugh. "So do you," you tease.

He huffs at your quip and shakes his head. “You didn’t seem to mind when my fingers were in your pie.” He reminds you, sliding his hand down to cup your cunt.

"Oh, I don't mind at all," you clarify with ease. "Not one little bit. I quite like when your fingers are in my pie, actually."

Modified, he hums as he leans in and starts to kiss along your jaw. “What else?”

"I can't think with your lips and hands on me." It's entirely true, but the way your mind hazes over with his attention is so wonderful you don't even care.

“Is that a bad thing?” He muses, smirking slowly as he continues to touch you gently. It’s not about the sex right now, but the intimacy.

“No…” His fingers at your core are deadly in their temptation, and even though he was inside you less than half an hour ago your body is piqued to respond to him. “I guess not, but…” A mere twitch of his forefinger has you swallowing a moan.

“But.” He pauses his fingers, pulling them back slightly.

"It's playing dirty," you remind him when your head clears just a tiny bit. "Negotiating while you're touching me? Very naughty."

He chuckles, winking at you. “Never said I played fair.” He hums.

"Incorrigible." But you're not even remotely upset with him about it. If nothing else, the last hour or two of time spent with him as already proven to you that you're going to accept his term. All you need to do now is talk to Lizzy.

“I am.” He agrees, leaning in and biting your ear playfully. “And you love it.”

"I do." The shiver that runs down your spine is proof enough of that, and you tilt your head to give him full access to nip, lick, and suck anything he likes. "I really do."

******

Putting your key in the lock of your apartment door feels heavier tonight than it ever has before, even as you push the door open and shove inside the little two-bedroom walkup. Oberyn had insisted on driving you home but ended up frowning when he saw where in the city you live. Explaining that it was the place that both of you could afford to each have your own bedroom regardless of how crappy the neighborhood was, only made him frown more deeply. To mollify him, you had agreed to talk to Lizzy tonight about a timeframe for moving so that he could schedule the truck and feel more secure about your safety.

"Liz?" Her car was in the parking space so she must be here, but she isn't in the living room when you step inside. "Lizzyyyyyyy." She's in the kitchen, you can smell last night's Greek leftovers in the microwave. "How was work?"

“Hey!” The shout comes back immediately and she pokes her head out from the little galley style kitchen that is too tiny for any two people to be at the same time. “Shit, like usual. How was work for you? You’re home early.”

“Your girlfriend called Greg and quit for me.” Despite how upset you had been earlier, the fact now makes you laugh in the most disbelieving and ridiculous way. “I brought us home some dessert. I’ve got news.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “How? Why?”

“Grab your plate and let’s go sit.” The little living room has space for a couch and a coffee table and not much else, but it will be as good a place to talk as any. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Oh my god.” She pops back into the kitchen and bangs around for a moment before she is rushing back out with a plate and a drink in her hand.

Along with the new purse Ellaria helped you pick out, you’re carrying a large bakery bag and a brand new Stanley cup filled with some of the raspberry lemonade from the same bakery where you bought to share with Lizzy. “Ok,” you grin at her eagerness and tuck yourself up on the couch with her. “First of all, I fully understand why you’re down so bad for Ellaria. She’s great.”

“Don’t tell me you slept together?” She gasps, hating herself for the tiniest twinge of jealousy when she has no claim on the woman. Just because she had completely rocked her world didn’t mean she had any obligation to her.

“No!” That startles you enough to have you sitting up all over again and reaching out to squeeze her arm. “No, no, nothing like that. I mean I definitely did have sex today, just not with her.”

“Oh, uh, I mean—” she shrugs, trying to look casual rather than relieved. “So, what makes you think she’s great?”

“Compassionate, considerate, kick ass...” For each characteristic you hold up a finger. “Honest. And she’s just as interested in you as you are in her, so she clearly has excellent taste.”

“How do you know that?” She lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Eat your dinner,” you remind her with a grin. “I may have forced her hand into telling me. I can’t quite tell. But either way, we are both about to become extremely spoiled women.”

Her brow furrows slightly in confusion. “I’m not following.” She admits, knowing that she’s already been spoiled by Ellaria in bed, but not expecting anything else.

“Okay, well…” Pulling your feet up under you on the sofa, you sip your drink slowly to try to steady yourself. “Ellaria and Oberyn want to…keep us.”

“Keep us…” she draws out the comment slowly. “Like….pets?”

“I mean…” The idea of it makes you snort, and you end up laughing. “I guess it doesn’t sound very good when you put it like that. But more like…sugar babies.”

“Sugar babies?” Her brows shoot open, fork clattering onto her plate. “Wait….that was a fucking option?!”

“It’s an option if we want it,” you confirm, trying hard not to laugh at her utter shock. Since that had been pretty much your reaction as well.

“I thought that was just….a joke.” She huffs. “Or some kind of justification for a creepy old man and a barely legal woman.”

"In this particular case, it's a new place to live, an income, and really fucking good sex." Which is nothing at all to sniff at, but you shrug your shoulders a little and let out another small laugh. "And shopping, which I know you'll love. Ellaria rolled me through every single store in that fancy ass mall in uptown."

“The one with the restaurants on the roof that we couldn’t even bring ourselves to step into?” She is jealous, now for a completely different reason.

"She asked me which place you'd like best to eat," you promise Lizzy, seeing the pout forming on your best friend's lips. "So expect a call asking you to have dinner with her tomorrow night."

“Oh?” her brows wing up dramatically and there’s a slightly giggly look on her face. “Really?”

“Really.” Seeing her this excited about it only solidifies in your mind how right of a decision this is. How much you both will benefit and be so much happier with this arrangement. And how unhappy you’ve both been recently by comparison. “I’m supposed to lay out the whole deal for you tonight, and you can negotiate with Ellaria or straight out accept or refuse at dinner.”

“Hit me with it.” She’s not dumb, she knows you’ve already had this talk with Oberyn. “Have you accepted already?”

“I said I wouldn’t formally accept without talking to you first,” you admit. “Since it would mean moving out.”

“Housing.” She nods, even though she’s damn sure that Ellaria would never offer her that. She’ll need to find another roommate.

“Don’t frown like that, I wouldn’t abandon you.” Especially not everything she did to keep you going when you would have just sunken into a pit of depression after your break up a year ago. “If we take their terms, both of us, we get a brand new renovated apartment in the west wing of the Martell mansion.”

“Wait…” she shakes her head in awe. “They want us to live there??” She whispers in awe. “Who the fuck are these people?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question all afternoon,” you admit, giggling as you pull out the box of pastry you purchased, all neatly tied up with red and white twine. “But Ellaria says it’s because Oberyn is greedy. He wants her — and I guess, me — nearby all the time. And if she’s staying at your place then she won’t be near him. So it keeps everyone happier if we’re all in the house together.”

“So they truly just do whatever they want.” She shakes her head in amazement. “What happens when they change their minds? Or get bored with us?”

“Our income is paid on the first of every year.” You have to brace yourself for this part. For how Lizzy will react to the number. “It’s November second today, so we would get first year income when we agree and second year on new years. It’s…it’s a million dollars a year, times however many years we’ve been with them. So if anyone changes their mind, they’re not left out in the cold. We can just go, with plenty of money to survive on and any gifts we’ve been given.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” She hisses, leaning forward and practically dumping her plate onto the table, forgotten and unwanted right now.

“I know,” you groan, holding up your hands in a show of innocence. “I know. It’s insane! But that’s their number and they’re not immovable on it. It’s a non-negotiable point.”

“They want to give us one million dollars every year we are together? Having great sex and sleeping in their mansion?” She asks.

"Two million for the second year. Three for the third. And so on." What else can you really do but nod? It's an insane amount of money and you both know it.

“That is….insane.” She throws herself back into the worn couch she had bought second hand and had seen better days.

“Yes it is.” You can agree to that wholeheartedly. “We live with them, we basically earn a living being companions, and if we want to take any other lovers or whatever, we just…do. Work or don’t work. School or no school. We can literally do whatever we want.” Shaking your head in understandable disbelief, you open the pastry box and offer her first pick of the pieces inside. “It’s literally the dream.”

“Dear God.” She snorts. “Just when I thought she couldn’t be any more perfect.” Her eyes widen, “do you think Ellaria has that arrangement with Oberyn? They’ve been together for years.”

“I know she does,” you nod, taking a fruit tart from the box when Lizzy picks out a piece of chocolate dipped shortbread. “She’s the one who explained it to me originally. The only thing that’s different about her and my arrangement from yours is that you won’t have any stipulations about possible kids.”

“Yeah…” she snorts. “I don’t think that’s possible for us, but hun-“ she tilts her head. “Are you thinking about that?”

“Not anytime soon.” The first bite of your tart is full of sweet and tangy glazed persimmon and you moan happily over it before going on. “But you know how badly I want kids. It’s just nice to know that Oberyn gives a shit about his daughters just in case, ya know?”

“I can understand that. All of the Sand Snakes, as he calls them, are very well loved.” She lifts a brow at you.

“Look I’m not saying I’m going to go off my birth control just because he has a breeding kink.” That makes both of you laugh, and you savor another bite of your tart. “I’m just saying if it happens, I won’t be upset.”

“I think it’s obvious the man has a breeding kink.” She hums. “Ellaria has given birth to four of them. And she doesn’t look like it at all.”

“That would be thanks to the endless libido and the in-home gym.” Ellaria had also showed you her small yoga studio and said you and Lizzy should use it whenever you liked. Their generosity extends to absolutely everything, it seems. “What do you think? I mean I know you want Ellaria, that part is easy. But…what about the rest?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and she gestures around the small apartment. “Leave all this behind?”

You snort, joining her in laughter, and sip from your drink again. “They’ll want us to give our input on the remodeling if those rooms are going to be ours. I’m going to give my two weeks at the cafe and go by there after work tomorrow.”

“Jesus, we even get to remodel our little slut nests.” She cackles. “We will be kept women!”

“That…is the idea,” you admit with another laugh. “Except no shame and full freedom.”

“I don’t want you to feel like my relationship with Ellaria should impact yours with Oberyn.” She knows you, so she immediately brings that up. “If we don’t last, that doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty or end things with him.”

"Likewise. Although I know you're less likely to let that impact your decision than I am." At least you know each other well enough to predict that sort of thing, and well enough to be honest with each other about it. "Just because it seems perfect in the beginning doesn't mean anything in the long run. We both know how relationships go."

“There will be ups and downs.” She agrees.

"This might be our greatest adventure," you tell her, grinning like an idiot. "Even more than when we keyed Professor McMahler's car for being a dick to you during sophomore year."

“He definitely deserved that.” She points at you and laughs. “But this is sooooo much better. And to think that dick said I would never amount to anything.” She huffs dramatically, “He was obviously wrong.”

"I'm...thinking about going back to school." The uncertainty is written on your face, but ever since it was suggested you can't get the idea out of your head. Getting your master's was once a life goal that you were distinctly in the running to achieve. When your boyfriend became your fiancé and suggested working for his family while you saved money for more school, you had thought it was the most practical thing in the world. You hadn't even sniffed the deception for a single second.

“That’s great!” She’s always hated that you didn’t further your education and if you have the opportunity to do it, you should go for it. “Will Oberyn be alright with the time spent studying?”

"I think so." A small smile tucks itself in the corner of your mouth. "He's offered to pay for school in addition to my income."

“Jesus, you don’t even have to pay for it!” She squeals. “Do it! You have to do it!”

"I still have to get in," you remind her, but the two of you end up doubled over in giggles all over again. "But thank you for your support, honey."

“With your transcripts?” She waves away your concern. “It’s a no brainer.”

"I love you and appreciate your blind faith in me." The last bite of your tart goes down with a happy hum you lean back on the couch to sigh contentedly. "It means you could quit your job if you want to. Put energy into finding work you actually like." You raise one eyebrow at her. "Or think about art school."

“But how can I possibly live the struggling artist life?” She huffs dramatically.

"With food in your stomach, and a roof over your head that doesn't leak, and with a warm bed," you huff right back at her. "Seriously, Liz. You should at least think about it. You're a beautiful photographer. You could even use some of that million to start up your business finally."

“That is the dream.” The possibilities are endless and she bites her lip. “You think I should?” Despite you feeling like she is always supporting you, you have definitely been a cheerleader for her hopes and dreams. Far more than she could ever articulate and it’s almost a relief that the two of you could experience this life change together.

“If you need a secretary or assistant or whatever, I can work for you,” you offer readily. Do some wedding gigs or whatever and boost your brand while I take my masters classes?” Every single moment of this happiness is thanks to Oberyn and Ellaria and you’re so acutely aware of it that you feel like you want to run back to the mansions and fling your arms around both of them. Ask them if they truly understand the way they’re changed your lives. “Anything is possible now.”

“All because we crashed their masquerade.” She grins. “Didn’t I tell you everything would be fine?”

“You said it would be fine,” you tease, pulling your phone out of your pocket when it buzzes insistently. Oberyn has gotten home and has decided to send you some rather salacious photos from the pool. “But this? This is far better than fine.”

Without any hesitation or remorse, she looks over at your phone and whistles. “Goddamn.” She hums. “If only I liked dick.” She teases. “You got yourself a good one, babe.” She grins. “Why don’t we go tell them the good news in person.” The phone dings again and it’s a picture of him and Ellaria. “Right now.”

“Because I was going to do the responsible thing and go to work in the morning to hand in my notice in person.” Despite the coffeeshop job being far less than ideal and your boss being horrible, you were going to be responsible about leaving. It seemed decent, after what happened with the pizza place.

“Fuck that.” She snorts. “We have had our lives completely changed by not doing the responsible thing.” Her grin is wicked. “Wouldn’t you rather fuck him by his gorgeous pool?”

“Of course I would.” There is no hesitation necessary for that decision.

“Then put on a swimsuit and let’s go.” She snorts.

******

Adjusting the set of his bow tie, Oberyn watches the mirror as you touch up your makeup. Enjoying the little trappings of vanity that you claim are not important but you continue to do so. He would never claim that it makes you more beautiful, but it enhances your eyes and draws them to the purple lace masque that you will be wearing tonight.

“I can feel you watching me.” There is a sing song in your voice, and nothing but affectionate teasing in your tone, because you know that Oberyn likes to study the ones he loves and learn them. After a year together, you have watched and learned him, too. Like the fact that his mask tonight is purple trimmed with gold — the two colors that you and Ellaria are wearing — despite only wearing a classic black costume himself. The cut of the regency finery looks remarkable on him and you smooth one hand over your empire waist dress as you check your reflection one more time in the mirror.

Tonight needs to be — will be — perfect.

“Why would I not be?” He chuckles, turning and boldly staring at you. “I had anticipated all of us getting ready together, but the other two were still in bed.” He had snorted when he had walked into the scene and wished them fun.

“When are they not?” Ellaria and Lizzy’s passion is honest and makes your best friend the happiest she’s ever been, so you’re certainly not going to begrudge them a moment of it. “Besides, won’t you love the moment you get to look up at Ellaria coming down the grand staircase in her costume for the first time?”

“I almost wish that I could do the same with you, but this is your masquerade by my side.” He teases, “officially.”

"Still, I won't monopolize your night," you promise, finally standing up from the vanity and leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Who knows. Someone may catch your eye. I have it on good authority that you quite enjoying picking out a new lover at these things."

He chuckles and his hand wraps around your body to pull you close. “I do.” He growls playfully, “but there is this one.” He hums, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “I find her intoxicating. I might have to bring her to my bed tonight.”

"Is that so?" The happy sigh in your voice is worth everything, and your eyes are soft and dreamy looking up at him. "I don't think you'll have any trouble convincing her at all. I have it on very good authority."

“Put in a good word for me?” He smirks and his hand slides down to your ass. “I missed you last night.” He admits. He had been traveling with Ellaria and only made it back before the party, which is why she is currently wrapped up with your best friend.

"I missed you, too." His busy travel schedule and frequent meetings have meant that he has been away for a good portion of the last several weeks. Sometimes you go with him and sometimes Ellaria does, but it has been a little to your advantage to have him away recently. It's allowed you to prepare a little surprise for him.

“Ellaria wants to take Lizzy away for the weekend.” Oberyn tells you. “A little anniversary trip to celebrate.” He caresses your back. “What do you think about a little trip of our own? I was thinking that little island I own in Fiji. You, me, and a private beach?”

"How very romantic." Still, you tilt your head slightly and smirk at him. "And convenient. No need for clothes on a private island."

“That’s right.” He snaps his fingers as if the thought just occurred to him. “That was the farthest thing from my mind.”

"I'm sure you had not thought of it at all," you tease him right back. "In fact I am notoriously fully clothed around you, lover."

“Of course you are.” He snorts. “Practically a nun.”

"Oh yes." This time you can't hold back the snort, dissolving into giggles. "I pray to god every night."

“I do hear you calling out his name quite often.” He smirks as he watches you.

"Very often." Still smirking, you nudge him playfully. "We should go down. Make sure everything is ready before the guest start arriving."

“So organized.” He teases with a wink as he steps back and turns to over you his arm.

"One of us has to be." Looping your hand through his elbow, you lean into his side as the two of you head down the now-familiar hallway toward the grand staircase. "And you have been so very business oriented lately. So let me be the organized one tonight."

“You have enjoyed planning tonight.” When it comes to the grand details, there are planners, but Oberyn had given control of the night to you, wanting to see what you would change about his masquerade.

It hadn't been much, but you had put a little spin on it this year, theming things to feel like a spooky and fantastical old-fashioned ball. From the flickering candlelight in the ballroom to the evocative music that you picked out, what you want more than anything is for Oberyn to be proud of the way you put his beloved masquerade together.

“Should we have a glass of champagne to celebrate before we go down?” He asks, smiling softly at you.

"I had a special drink made for tonight." At the stairs you squeeze his arm a little tighter and pick up your skirt to make sure you don't trip, but he guides you downstairs so easily that it feels like walking on water.

There are members of the waitstaff milling around and people tweaking the decorations to make sure everything is perfect, but when you and Oberyn appear in the ballroom a bartender appears at your sides almost instantly. Thanking her, you take both glasses from the tray and hand one to Oberyn. "Happy anniversary, my love."

"To the night that has changed our lives for the better." He hums, tapping his glass against yours and taking a sip of the cocktail. His brow furrows and he takes another sip. "Dove, they may have misunderstood your instructions for your drink." He sniffs and examines it. "It's apple cider and cranberry, I believe." He tilts his head. "But it is missing the alcohol." The familiar burn is missing, although it could just be very well hidden.

“No,” you shake your head, unable to keep a misty, dreamy little smile from your lips. “It’s just right.”

His expression is filled with curiosity. "A dry masquerade?" He muses. "That will be a surprise for the guests."

“I would never do that to your guests.” Especially not when Oberyn’s parties are rightfully legendary. The Bacchanalia would go down in history books if anyone but guests knew. “But…this version will have to be enough for me.” The smile on your lips grows, along with the warmth of excitement and pride in your chest. “For about the next seven months or so.”

Eyes widening in delight, his gaze immediately drops down to your stomach. Your hand has drifted over it, protective and proud. "Dove." He sets aside the glass and pulls you into his arms to kiss you until both of you are dizzy.

You knew he would be happy, but the sensation of being all but swept off your feet has you clinging to him — and to your glass — as he pulls you into his embrace. The sweet, deep, joyous kiss is as passionate as any he's given you before but this one is marked with so much happiness that you can feel him smiling against your lips.

"You must be about eight weeks along?" He asks breathlessly as he pulls away. His own hand sliding down to cover your stomach possessively. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"Earlier this week." Still a bit breathless from the kiss, you nod and absorb the warmth of him as well as the absolute warmth of the sweet gesture. His hand over your stomach for the very first time. "We're both happy and healthy and the baby is right in line for being eight weeks along."

"We must have conceived in Morocco." He smiles again, pressing his lips to yours. "That trip that you were so stressed about your paper during and I helped you relax." He had wanted to take you, knowing you had never ben before and it had taken some convincing to get you to agree. Now, it will be one of his favorite places because you had gotten pregnant there.

"I'm glad that I only have a year of my master's left." The fact of the timing has been haunting you, being only halfway through your work, but when you had actually sorted through it you had realized it was a blessing. "I can take summer semester off, like education maternity leave." You smile at him, beaming, and kiss him again. "I'm due at the end of May."

"You know that you can always go back." He promises. "May." He smiles softly. "We will have to make sure that you are spoiled and comfortable."

"Because you never spoil me," you tease with a heavy roll of your eyes.

"Not like you've ever seen before." He promises with another soft kiss to your lips. "But you will find out what it will be like."

"Only Lizzy knows, and now you." Your best friend had been the one to nudge you to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test and help you make a doctor's appointment, but being sworn to secrecy meant that she had not breathed a word to anyone in the process. "I thought you would want to tell Ellaria together."

"Together." He agrees, smiling at you. "Tonight at the ball will be the perfect setting for it."

"I love you." As many times as you have ever said it before, you mean it more each and every time. Life with Oberyn has been more of a blessing than you could ever have hoped for, and now the baby you've always wanted is on their way.

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

Spooktober 2024: @inept-the-magnificent

[princescar]

Doodle I did for the DR0 anniversary that I never finished or posted, which sucks bc I really like them

Design rambles under cut

I really wanted to keep lil Junko as Ryoko looking as possible. I aslo wanted to keep the trend of her choosing cardigans over blazers by having all her outfits include one. Also wanted to portray how disheveled he became over the years.

Love lil 4yo Junko sm. She definitely came back home with tiny Matsuda in tow like a child bringing home a stray cat. (Considering his age, this should be when his mother's condition started, so now I'm sad thinking about him waiting for his Mom to pick him up, but she never comes bc she forgot, so lil Junko decides that she can take him home.)

Elementary Junko that should look familiar, considering I've drawn her multiple times. Her design is still pretty Ryoko inspired, except the hair, which comes from one of my favorite headcanons. (She begged Matsuda to braid her hair, but he did not know wtf he was doing, and fucked it up so bad it had to get chopped off. (based off a childhood story of mine) He felt SO bad that he made her the halfandhalf bow she wears in her hair, similar to her pre-game one, except its black and white.) Matsuda is still nose deep in manga, same as always.

Middle school Junko is finally in her gyaru era, still with her fav cardigans. Her and Matsuda both have raccoon tails in the hair that frames their face. She had to BEG him to let her touch his hair and he immediately regretted it. The uniforms, unlike the others, are specifically from Giboura Middle School, the middle school from KillerKiller. Because I headcanon that it was Junko's old middle school. Also him having the Junko tie because of another headcanon that she "stole" it from him when he went into Highschool and she wanted to have a piece of him with her.

No highschool designs considering Junko's iconic look IS her highscool design and honesty Matsuda was probably wearing the same shit he wore in DR0, but with a different school logo. Which i actually have an edit of

[xinfinityl0ve17]

MALICE MIZER

After leaving the audience in suspense, Kami took the microphone and in a surprise twist the members reappeared, intensifying the final moments. In response to the huge cheers the encore saw the five members take the stage in military uniforms, waving a naval ensign. It’s rare to see a band that can pull off such a wide variety of costumes... I couldn’t help but think how much fun they must be having as I was completely overwhelmed by their high energy stage presence and performance.

The following day, on the 11th, they performed on a stage titled The Door of the Blank Moment. The show began explosively, with special effects firing off immediately at the start, and the band, dressed in glossy enamel costumes, launched into an aggressive and high-energy performance, reminiscent of the later half of a set. I was once again stunned, realizing that this was yet another way to kick off a show. I had heard that the two days would be completely different... but I didn’t expect them to be this different.

The second song, ILLUMINATI, began with a shout of "Come at me!" and during the song, Gackt shoved Mana onto a sofa? The sight of Mana and Közi's suspiciously close interactions elicited screams, leaving everyone fixated on their movements.

While Yu~ki didn’t display any flashy movements, his intricate rhythms and occasional melodies shone through. In the fourth song, Le Ciel, he descended from the stage set to perform front and center. Every little movement from them was captivating, and during the middle of the set, each member had their own moment to shine, pulling the audience into their individual worlds.

Just like the previous day, Gackt’s highly charged MC led the show into its second half. Sweet, yet somehow melancholic melodies... these enchanting songs brought color to the latter part of the concert.

The encore that day was especially memorable. The members appeared one by one, dressed as the characters from the video Bel Air, each stepping out in their respective roles. It was a surreal sensation, as if the fictional story in the video and the real-life story unfolding on stage were blending together. The five of them gathered on stage in those costumes and, as a parting gift to the audience, performed the final number, of course, Bel Air.

Their stage was a world filled with countless elements: beautiful things, grotesque things, pure things, mysterious things, frightening things, nostalgic things, new things... an endless variety of wonders. It was a world that transcended conventional concepts and couldn’t be confined within the usual boundaries of a live performance. For those two days, we were able to fully immerse ourselves in their unique world.

[marthawrites]

Harrenhal Butterflies

Modern Harwin Strong x fem reader

Word count: 3.7k+

About: Sparks flew between you and Harwin before slinking off together during a work dinner, and they continue to fly afterwards. Unprompted, you both slink off together once again during an elective work trip to Harrenhal. Tension ends up breaking in a most unexpected place.

Includes: Smut featuring reader receiving oral, light/playful degradation, some praise, some dirty talk, vaginal fingering, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story was inspired by the request "may I request revenge sex in someone else’s car with harwin strong?" from angsti who's no longer on tumblr. She probably won't see this but I still wanted to write and dedicate it to her! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

Working as a dispatcher for the City Watch had its perks. Three times a year, for "team building exercises", fellow employees would plan a day trip for those who wanted to participate. Luckily you were able to take the day off, which, for you, led into a long weekend – perfect! You were equally excited and nervous for this trip: a hike in Harrenhal amongst the lovely fall colors.

"Isn't Harrenhal one of the most haunted places in all of Westeros?" You asked one of your favorite co-workers, Sara Stark, as you both killed some time in the break room. 

"It's said to be," she said excitedly. "Supposedly there's blood mixed in the mortar," she added with curious delight. Sara had been living in King's Landing for a year or so, and worked for the City Watch maybe half that time. Having lived in Winterfell her whole life she had a soft spot for dark folktales of the world.

You came to realize, affectionately, that people from the north were built differently.

You laughed, half nervous. "The woods are probably filled with ghosts! My time off request is already accepted, but maybe I'll skip going on this trip…"

Sara snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh come on! Ghosts can't hurt you, scaredy cat!"

"What's this I hear about someone skipping out on the best hike of the year?" Harwin asked after overhearing the conversation. He refilled his coffee mug and leaned against the counter, mischievous brown eyes panning curiously between you and Sara.

It was stupid – absolutely stupid – how good Harwin looked in his uniform. Big, tall, broad… his dark curls mussed in a way that made you want to push your fingers through them. After yours and Erryk’s break up, you and Harwin were known to banter. Some office teasing was innocent, right? At least… that’s what you told yourself before the workplace dinner last month where you both had a steady buzz and ended up making out in the bathroom. In hindsight, making out in a bathroom was super gross. He looked so fucking handsome in his blue suit, though! Encouraged by alcohol, you couldn't stop your flirting tongue once it started. And, next thing you knew, he had you pressed against the hallway’s wall kissing you with no care of smearing your lipstick. Giggling, you dragged him into the nearest bathroom and locked the door. Aside from smeared lipstick and kiss swollen lips, nothing else happened that night. The flirting continued, however. 

"The veil is thinnest right now and we're going to Harrenhal of all places!?" You asked, expression – comically – equally bright and uneasy.

"Oh please," he scoffed. "I grew up there and know the whole land like the back of my hand. It's not that bad," he winked. "You gotta come. It's gorgeous this time of the year."

"Yeah, scaredy cat!"

You groaned. "The peer pressure is suffocating!"

"Come on," Harwin drawled. "I'll stick close to you. Throw you over my shoulder and run from any ghosts if I have to."

Sara snorted. Harwin smirked. You blushed. "Fine. Fine! I'll go."

"Aye! There's my strong girl."

-

Whether it due to the location, time of year, or general disinterest, only a quarter of the City Watch's employees participated. You were surprised to see a couple of the higher elite squad, too. Targaryen's had to take their royal safety very seriously, and King Viserys – as well as any and all members of his family whom he deemed needed protection – always had a member of the Kingsgard near. 

Harwin had spoken the truth: Harrenhal was beautiful in the chilly fall glow. Oranges, reds, and yellows contrasted starkly against gray clouds. Despite tales of hauntings, ghosts, and monsters, the surrounding land was deeply fertile. Native plants of all colors and sizes were on fiery autumn display. Trees, shrubs, and even mushrooms decorated the land in a fairy-tale fashion.

People naturally gathered in smaller groups while everyone waited to hear the day’s game plan. You, Sara, and Harwin were nearest the front. Sara happily chatted with you about mycelium and how excited she was to photograph and harvest fungi for her collection. Harwin and another man of the City Watch went over the plan one more time to make sure they were both on the same page.

All the while, you and Harwin made (perhaps not so subtle) flirty eyes at each other. You’d never seen him in casual hiking clothes, and doing so now made butterflies twirl in your belly. 

“Alright, folks!” Harwin said with a clap of his big hands. A smile warmed his face as people turned their attention to him. “It’s about a three mile hike to the Rushing Falls. There’s a nice trail to the top of the waterfall, and from up there you can look across the God’s Eye to the Isle of Faces. Hopefully the fog will lift by then so we can get a proper view. It’s stunning this time of the year. After we’re done, we’ll all come back here and head over to Raventree Hall to share a meal together. That’s the overall plan! Any questions?”

Excitement buzzed in eagerness to start. “I have extra water and granola if anyone needs some!” Someone said. That was enough to break the ice. Sara, and others, began walking ahead – so much for her info dump about mycelium!

“Ah shit,” you groaned, running a hand down the side of your face.

“What’s up?” Asked Harwin, dark eyes soft and concerned as he looked you over.

“I forgot my spare lens in my car. I brought it so I could take some wide shots,” you admitted, half annoyed with yourself. Leave it to you to forget something even though you triple checked that you had everything! “I’m gonna double back and get it. I’ll catch up.”

He chuckled. “I’ll go with you. Don’t want any ghosties scaring you along the way,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hide your smirk. “Pfft. I can handle myself.”

But, it was already too late. Harwin hollered ahead that he and you would be back in a few. If you could see Sara you knew she’d be giving you finger guns and a shit eating grin. She knew of your little crush on Strong and wasn’t above pestering you about it. 

It was only the two of you, now. You peered up at him just in time to watch him point. “There’s a shortcut around this way,” he said, gesturing in the direction. “It goes through a small parking lot that leads to the main one.”

Nodding, you said, “sure! This is only my second time here. And it’s been a long time since then.” Alone with him, now, your mind drifted to the bathroom makeout session. It drifted even further as you remembered how his hands felt on your…

He smiled in a way that made you feel like he knew exactly what you were thinking; brown eyes twinkling with boyish amusement. He led the way and you followed close behind. The pathway wasn’t very wide, and you’d have to be tucked under his arm for the both of you to fit across it. If it were colder, or you bolder… you could probably get away with it. But, those same butterflies from before still twirled around in your belly making you feel more self-conscious than you cared to admit.

Right as you were about to walk out of the smaller parking lot and into the larger one, something unexpected caught your attention. You gasped. “What! No way. I didn’t even see Erryk. When did he get here!?”

“What?” Asked Harwin, looking between you and what stole your attention.

“There’s his Bronco! God I love that thing. I only got to ride in it a couple times before we broke up.” You two had been broken up for awhile now, and since then he’d done some work on his four door black Bronco. It had a lift, larger wheels and tires than what came as stock, and it was all blacked out. It looked good. And mean. You wanted to take the top off and drive it! “I’m gonna go look at it,” you said with mischievous delight.

Strong whistled beneath his breath. “Damn. That thing is nice.”

You b-lined it and tipped up on your toes to get a peek inside. “I want one of these so bad! This is pretty much my dream car. Truck. Whatever you call this thing.”

Cargyll really did have good taste. Harwin slowly walked around it and checked it out the whole time, taking notes of this and that as he did. Once he saw you looking through all the windows realizing that it hadn’t sounded any alarm yet, his dark eyes glinted with impishness. He pulled one of the back doors open. “That idiot didn’t even lock it!”

You squealed. “What! Oh my god,” you said as you swung the other backdoor open. “Holy shit. He’s lucky he took the keys otherwise you’d have to chase me down, a newly offended car stealer, on foot!” You sighed dreamily as you flopped on your back in the backseat. Your legs still hung out the car but you didn’t mind. It felt good – and fun – to be laying in someone else’s car without their knowledge. You giggled behind your hand; the risk of it gave you a rush.

“Bad girl,” he said as he leaned against the edge of the doorway your legs hung out of. You didn't even hear him walk around! “I'd expect better from you,” he added with an easy curve of lip.

“Are you scolding me?” You asked as you sat up.

“I am. A good, smart girl like you, threatening to steal a car like any petty thief?”

Something flexed in your abdomen as boldness took hold of you. Perhaps it was the risk that egged you on, or the way Harwin's mouth looked as his lips pouted in the slightest manner, or the way his brow furrowed beneath a wayward curl. Whatever it might have been, a thrill danced up and down your spine. “And what are you going to do about it, Strong?” You asked daringly, gaze lingering on his mouth before slowly flickering up to his regard.

“Tell me, pretty girl, did Erryk play these games with you in here?” He leaned forward to deliberately invade what little remained of your personal space, voice dropping lower the closer he came to you. That same easy curve of lip decorated his mouth while his gaze remained on yours, the blackness of his pupils beginning to widen in those deep brown irises.

The width of his shoulders took up all the space in the door and you swore you could feel heat coming off his solid bulk. “Not as much as I wanted…,” you answered, lower and slyer than his own tone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes before glancing to his mouth again, leaning closer into him as he did you.

“What a shame.”

In the next breath your mouths collided in an instantly searing kiss. Nothing about it was shy, or tentative, or reserved. The distant familiarity of his lips had you sighing in bliss against them. You grabbed at the front of his jacket – that odd water resistant material that somehow felt smooth and rough alike – and pulled him further into you. And, as if they’d suddenly gained a mind of their own, your legs spilled open to accept his wide hips between them. “I like this much more than a bathroom,” you mumbled through the kiss, grinning. Blood warmed your cheeks and fuzzed your mind; low muscles in your belly tightening with eager anticipation.

Harwin answered by holding the back of your head with one large hand, the size of it allowing him to graze his thumb along your cheek in a way that deepened your kiss. A pleased groan sounded from somewhere in his chest. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he drawled, dragging his tongue against yours before biting on your bottom lip. “At your desk… in the break room… anytime I see you walking around the office. God. You have the perfect mouth for kissing.”

Heat thrummed beneath your skin and you were full on dizzy, now, drunk on Harwin’s words. “I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the last time we did it,” you admitted as you pressed your legs tight against him, wrapping your arms atop his shoulders.

He groaned again, louder this time. “If you wrap those pretty legs around me I won’t be able to help myself,” he said huskily as he kissed and bit all along your neck. 

You wrapped your legs around him, then, pulling him fully against the heat of your body. Daring. Tauting. Needing.

“Mmm that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He growled. “Driving me crazy all on purpose now? You really are a bad girl.” He pushed his wide hands up the front of your body – over your hips, along your sides, up beneath your breasts to feel their weight upon his touch – all while leaving tiny love bites on your shoulder. “Will you let me make you feel good this time?” He asked, finally pulling away from you long enough to look at your pretty face and parted mouth.

Before you could stop yourself, you answered, “yes,” in a hot breathy tone. “Shit, yes. Please, Harwin.”

“Right here in your ex’s rig?” He asked as he slowly slid down the front of your body, thick fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings.

“Yes,” you squeaked, watching him. You lifted your hips in time with his hooking, and he wasted no time in pulling your bottoms down your legs until it caught on your shoes. Somehow it felt more lewd than having them fully removed.

Those big, calloused, warm hands felt over the smooth skin of your thighs. His fingers splayed as he felt down the full length of your legs, and then up again, fingertips denting into your soft flesh. “So pretty all sprawled out,” he whispered, shamelessly trailing the pad of one thumb up the center of your underwear covered center. Much to his delight it coaxed a little sound from you. “And so sensitive…”

“...please don’t make me wait,” you begged with soft doe eyes.

He smirked. “I don’t plan to,” he said as he pulled your underwear down. Instead of leaving them balled around your feet, however, he tore one of your shoes off and tugged your bottoms and panties off in the same motion. They still remained bunched up and hanging off one foot.

If you thought it lewd before, this felt dirty.

With Harwin’s palms holding your thighs open both his thumbs gently parted your folds, opening your pussy for his greedy eyes. “You’re such a good girl for getting all wet for me. Do you think you can stay quiet?” He asked cheekily with an arch of brow before kissing the front of your hip. He kissed the other side, too, and dipped his head low. 

Just as you started to say something Harwin dragged his hot tongue up through your soaken folds. Your lungs swelled with excitement and the breath you gasped came out in a broken moan. “Oh my god…!,” you whispered when he lapped again and again, relaxed tongue sliding over your clit in a way that sent goosebumps tingling all over your body. One of your hands lowered to his hair and you shamelessly sprawled your fingers through his brown curls, tugging appreciatively when he lavished all his attention to your bud. “Mm fuck..! Just like that…!”

He moaned a satisfied rumble against your cunt. Turning his gaze back up to you, he said, “poor baby. Your little clit is so achy and needy, isn’t it?” While still looking at you he worked his tongue in deliberate motions, learning your body more and more by the second. He circled, and flicked, and kissed, and ‘mmm’d’ his approval into you. “What a sweet treat you are,” he said barely above a rumble. He didn’t stop lavishing your clit until your thighs were trembling beneath his hands.

“You’re gonna make me come like that. I’m close… ‘m so close,” you whimpered as you ground your pussy against his mouth, seeking more and more of him even as he was giving you all his mouth could. 

“Shh… shh, quiet, princess. I know it feels good, but we can’t have someone hearing you,” he said, eyes dark and dancing, as he slipped a finger into you. He worked it in time with his tongue, then, curling and testing your walls. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. As soon as he found that wonderful patch of nerves inside you, he squeezed a second finger into you and pumped them in and out, hitting that spot every time without fail. He latched onto your clit, licking and sucking in tandem with his fingers.

Bliss, and electricity, and fire blazed through your body as Harwin pushed you to peak. Orgasm flooded your muscles with pleasure and you barely covered your mouth in time to muffle all those lovely sounds of release. Harwin pushed you through it steadily; prolonging without overstimulating. Once you stopped trembling he gradually pulled away from you, grinning. “I could do that all fucking day,” he whispered against your mouth before stealing your satisfied moans in a kiss. 

You could still taste yourself on him. You needed more.

“I need more,” you purred, one hand grazing over the bulge at the front of his bottoms.

“Not here, princess. I don’t have a condom,” he replied with an edge of mournfulness – wanting nothing more than to bury himself in you and fuck you silly on his cock.

Butterflies filled your belly again as you answered, “I’m clean… and on birth control. If you are too..? Then fuck a condom.”

He twitched and somehow grew even harder against your palm with your words. “Fuck… gonna let me have all of your pretty pussy?” He fumbled with the front of his bottoms and you helped him pull them down. Lust overtook you and you were unable to answer, only able to help free his cock. He sighed in relief as it was freed. You gasped, too. It was like the rest of him; thick, solid, hot. He bit your lip as your hand wrapped around him, smaller and cooler than the rigid desire of his length. “Open your legs. You can take it, I know you can.”

You did as told, propping up on your elbows so you could look down the front of your body to watch as he pushed into you. He guided himself to your entrance and pressed forward, easing into you, slowly stretching you out around him. You mumbled something incoherent at the sight and gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure as he filled you to your body’s end. When he began to pull out your arousal gleamed on his cock. Your head buzzed and your desire soared. “More. Harder… faster.. Fuck me like you mean it,” you pleaded, spilling your thighs open as far as they comfortably could in the confides of your ex’s backseat.

Something changed in Harwin, then, and his gentleness began to crumble away. He held tightly onto one of your thighs and one side of your hip, driving into you firmer and quicker. “This pussy just needs to be filled so bad, huh? Don’t wanna take this big cock slow… no, you need it slamming in and out of you,” he growled lowly, accentuating his words with drives of his strong hips. 

Wordlessly, you nodded at him with desperate eyes. You moaned behind a hand as he speared in and out of you; full, so full of him. The pressure, the stretch, the thrill of finally having him sent a second orgasm creeping along your spine. You wrapped your legs around him and drew him further into you.

“My poor needy girl. Should’ve came to me sooner if you needed fucked this bad,” he said, grinning, before sliding his gaze down to where your bodies joined. “This little cunt is starving, baby, you’re taking me so well.” He changed his angle slightly and picked up his pace, pounding into you with added vigor. If your moans weren’t muffled enough then the sounds of skin slapping on skin would be more than enough to give you both away. The Bronco, despite its size, began to rock with the motion of Harwin’s fucking. 

If heaven was real, surely it was here.

Your legs flexed around him as your back arched, body tightening as Harwin pushed you to peak again. Your eyelids fluttered before they rolled closed, wholly blissed out. Climax washed over you and your walls convulsed round him – squeezing – urging him to join you.

And he did.

With one final thrust he buried himself as deep as he could be and unloaded into you. The warmth of his cum filled you in a way that had you sighing in relief. He panted, spent and deeply satisfied. “I’ll buy you your own Bronco. Whatever color you want,” he said as he pressed his forehead to yours, basking in the sensation of post-climax bliss.

You laughed. “You don’t mean that! Shut up.”

“I mean it. I saw a pretty blue one driving down the road the other day. You’d look so good driving one.”

Slowly you unwrapped your legs from around him and giggled. “Who knew Strong got so pussystruck?,” you teased.

Laughing, he carefully pulled out of you. “Ah, hell. You’re gonna have to sacrifice your panties to clean yourself up. Hiking with no underwear? You really are a dirty girl,” he quipped back.

Both of you took a minute to wipe clean and fix your clothes before walking away from Erryk’s rig as innocently as you could. Which, more than likely, wasn’t innocent at all. “You’re not buying me a car. But… maybe dinner?”

“Of course I’ll buy you dinner. And a beer?”

“As long as you promise we don’t end up in a bathroom or backseat of someone else’s car.”

“Ha! Last I remember it was you who egged both of those things on,” he taunted, glaring at you playfully.

Well, he wasn't wrong. 

You snerked and slapped his backside before finally retrieving your lens from your car.

Now to come up with an excuse as to why you two took so long. Maybe no one would notice?

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[klaustozier]

uniform ; miguel o'hara

SUMMARY: you and spiderman 2099 are arch enemies, but when you capture him things are different.

warnings: miguel o'hara x fem!reader; you are archenemies; light knife play (there will be NO injuries being done, the knife is for taking off part of his clothes); angry sex; bigcock!miguel; nipple play (in both); light mask kink; again he will swear in spanish; mention of blood (he will bite you a little 😳); choking; degradation kink; fingering; pet names (princess); spanking and slapping; i think i might have a fang kink idk

word count: 2k

english is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes

the villain is invented for this story, okay? you don't exist in marvel universe, at least not that i know of

have fun ^^

Miguel was trapped. He had appeared in your lair to try to capture you before you destroyed more lives. But he didn't imagine it was just an ambush to capture him. He was in a dark warehouse, bound with chains, mostly on his hands, not wanting to give his claws a chance to help him break free.

"Oh…", you said approaching, wearing a tight black outfit, the beautiful makeup adorned your face, with sparkles on your eyelids and a star under the eyeliner, "You always think that you will be able to defeat me, but we know that is not so, uh?", you approached with knives in hand, your face getting close to his, the mask and a small distance separating them, "You have to remember that I will always, always be one step ahead… Miguel."

His eyes widened, his mask moving in astonishment, "What?"

You laughed, "You don't have to hide from me, I know a lot more than you can imagine…", the tip of the knife passed gently across his cheek, cutting through the mask without difficulty, making him pull back his face, "Calm down, mi amor", you whispered, "Miguel is a beautiful name…"

"How did you find out?", he asked, feeling the cold wind of the warehouse lit by computers cool the skin on his cheek that had been exposed.

You were good with knives so you hadn't cut him because you didn't want to draw blood, and something inside him responded to the thought that you could do as you pleased with him.

"Ah…", you chuckled, "I have my tricks, Mr. O'Hara", the knife slid gently across his chest where the chains didn't hold him, horizontally, the uniform opened, revealing his strong chest. You sighed seeing the delicate nipples prickling, his breathing seemed uneven not out of fear, or out of anger, but for another reason, which made your eyebrow rise, "Oh…", you smirked, positioning the flat part of the knife on his nipple, making him suck in air between his teeth as the cold metal made contact with his hot skin. He groaned and shook his head trying to get rid of that feeling when the thin sharp tip of the knife played with his skin, "What a shame, Miguel. ¿No tienes vergüenza de eso?", you laughed seeing his erection showing in your tight clothes, "You like to be dominated by the enemy, Miguel?"

Your mouth was positioned on his, still covered over the mask, not much contact, just a slight proximity.

"You will pay for this", he whispered.

You laughed, your knife being placed in its holster on your thigh, leaving you free to slide your finger across his nipple, "How? Are you going to lock me up, 20-9-9? You'll never get it and you know it", and you ran your tongue across his lip, the tip of the knife in your other hand playing gently with the skin of his chest, only teasing the delicate skin, not cutting it.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Come on, Spider-Man."

You, again, licked his lip, then biting it, still covered by the thin cloth, your finger pinching his nipple. Abruptly, he grabbed you, grabbing your arms, pushing you toward the center of the room, slamming you against the computers.

Pulling the mask off, baring his massive fangs at you, earning a wry smile, "So pissed off."

"Carajo", he cursed.

And he kissed you. First you were startled, then you allowed it to continue. Your mouth opened to allow his tongue in, kissing him angrily, feeling his fangs rub against your lower lip, scraping as you kissed him. Your hands went to his soft black hair, stroking as you kissed him angrily.

The older one held your face tightly, his lips red from the kiss, panting hard, "You have to learn to shut your fucking mouth."

"If I don't learn, will you teach me, Miguel?", the way you said his name filled him with anger. You took the knife in your hand and started ripping his clothes off, from his neck, down his chest, until your hand was grabbed and the knife was positioned under your neck, "Are you going to kill me, O'Hara?"

"In a little bit", he promised.

And he kissed you again. His hands went to your ass, squeezing through the tight pants you wore, devouring your lips. One of his hands went to your chest, its claws scratching at the tight-fitting black turtleneck you wore, ripping through the material. With the hand that previously ripped your clothes off you, he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed, pushing you against the computer screens, looking at what he had done.

Your chest rose and fell, your lips red from the kiss, your breasts showing through the torn fabric. His free hand went to your breasts, scratching the soft skin over the nipple gently before sliding his thumb over the hard spot making you moan.

"Such a sweet moan, fucking slut", he grinned, letting go of your neck so he could grab both breasts at the same time, pinching the nipples, your back arching in the direction of his touch. Your legs tightened together making him laugh, "Carajo… tan increíble…"

"Miguel", you whispered.

You groaned loudly as you received a slap across the face after he held it, making you look at him, "Don't call me that."

"What do you want me to call you? Daddy?", you mocked, getting another slap on the face.

He laughed, bringing his face closer to yours, "I want you to shut up."

"Whatever you want, cariño."

He smirked and gave you a soft peck, lowering his lips to your neck, scraping his sharp teeth over your skin. Even though it was smooth, a little blood escaped, instinctively, he ran his tongue over the área, tasting your blood, before continuing his way down.

You held your own breasts and offered them to him. The brunette smiled and looked at you as he licked at your nipples before scraping his fangs over them. You moaned and took a deep breath feeling his strong hands tearing your pants, he didn't even use the claws, it was brute force, and that alone made your pussy throb.

He knelt down between your legs, picking one of them up and placing it over his shoulder. His intention was to provoke you, to just lick your thighs, kiss your pussy and lick the wet delicate lips, but you didn't have the patience, so you squeezed his hair and forced his handsome face against your pussy.

His lips sank into your wet pussy and he sighed as he began to lick you with so much lust, his mouth getting all wet. His experienced tongue going up and down with no rhythm, making you squirm and whine, while holding his hair. Miguel's claws were positioned over his thighs, holding them while he sucked your clit.

"Tan dulce", he whispered.

The brunette gently bit your thigh, making you moan and tremble, "Harder", you asked softly.

"Puta", he chuckled.

He bit the thigh a little harder, kissing the área, and soon after, started licking it, moaning low as he felt the taste of your blood on his skin again.

Miguel retracted his claws and took the gloves off one hand just so he could fuck you with his fingers, he needed to feel you, you were just begging for him to fuck you while you moaned disconnected words and begged for absolutely nothing with your mind completely blank. His mouth was experienced, licking you with such precision, making you squirm and moan, gripping his dark hair.

When O'Hara sensed you were close to cum, he pulled away, getting up, lips all wet with your pleasure, the pretty lips glistening, he licked them tasting a little bit more of you.

"No", you whimpered, "I thought you were the good guy."

"You thought wrong, princess", he sighed looking down, "Come on, take off my pants."

You nodded, taking a knife from your boot and sliding the shiny blade down the happy trail area, tearing his uniform, taking his cock in your hands and sighing thinking you could finally suck him off and have your jaw hurt from the effort to suck that thick cock.

Miguel had other plans. He flipped you over on the table, leaving you with your face pressed against the computer screen, your ass facing him. He slapped your ass and positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. Your legs shook.

"Miguel", you whispered, "please."

"Oh", he chuckled, "are you polite then?"

You wanted to respond, to be rude and smart, but there wasn't time. Miguel sunk his cock all the way into you, his cock filling you completely, stretching you.

"I'll leave you all loose…", whispered the brunette, his body leaning against yours, biting your earlobe, "You'll stay days", and he thrust hard, pausing, "and days" , lunging once more, "thinking of me."

"Miguel."

O'Hara smiled and continued to thrust, making the table move with his movements, the monitors moving with the force he exerted. You whined softly and he moaned low, against your ear, feeling your insides crush him, press on his cock.

He didn't think he was going to end the day like that, fucking his archenemy in your hideout, but he wasn't going to complain, it felt so good. They kissed, the movements didn't stop. At first, as you went, he came back, but time passed and the rhythm was out of step with their desperation, each moving how they saw fit to sick for their own pleasure. His hands caressed and pinched your nipples, which were erect and hard against your digits.

You came first, moaning loudly in agony, your lower lip being bitten as you felt your body being overcome with pleasure.

You didn't have time to compose yourself, Miguel picked you up and put you on your knees in front of him. The thick cock in front of your face, glistening, the tip flushed and oozing pre-cum. One of your hands held the thick base, helping you to suck it while the other went to his ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You had to do it, you had looked at his ass on his uniform far too many times not to feel the need to grab it.

His hands held your hair, moaning low, feeling his cock hitting your throat, "What a loose throat, uh, princess?"

You smiled and licked the base before swallowing all of it again, your hand and mouth making twisting motions, going back and forth to give him more pleasure. His moans made your pussy ache, it was so good to hear, so low and dark, his fangs gleaming in the delicate light.

He pulled you by the chin and forced your mouth open with his hand, his thumb holding your tongue and the other fingers under your chin. He jerked off looking into your eyes, pausing only to watch his cum fall onto your tongue. The brunette held your mouth open for a few seconds, absorbing the image of you like that, the cheeks flushed, the eyes watery, the lips red and the tongue marked with his cum. And after that, he finally released it so you could swallow.

"Puta madre", he whispered as you got on your feet.

"I agree", you laughed while kissing him.

Miguel kissed you desperately, tasting his cum on your tongue. For a second, he wondered what he would do now, with his clothes torn like that, how would he get out of there like that? He needed to change clothes, but what clothes would he put on? Without being able to think of a solution, the brunette felt a thin needle in his neck, letting go of your lips, and soon after his body went limp, fainting.

Miguel woke up in his home, scared. He was wearing his own pajamas and lying on his bed, in the empty space next to him, his uniform was folded delicately with a card and a note on top.

Lost, he took the note and read it, chuckling afterwards.

"2099,

I hope you can pay off the damage with this credit card. We can't let you fight evil with your cock out. It will scare the old ladies.

Next time, you'll end up in a coffin, not in your bed after I blew you oh so gracefully. So be careful.

Signed,

Your #1 fan."

...

well, i hope you liked it <3

please reblog and leave a like if you enjoyed it! and leave a comment with your thoughts, i would love to know!

see ya next time.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

♡masterlist♡

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my sister change before we went to our cousin’s wedding?

Right, so I (25f) am currently guardian for my sister (16f) because her school is nearer where I live than our parents. She lives with me, sees our parents at weekends/holidays and stuff. My parents pay me rent for her staying here, covering living expenses and stuff. So, my sister and I have a bit more of a parental figure/child relationship than a normal sibling one. We’re chill most of the time, but she’s really annoyed with me over this, and I’m questioning whether I did the right thing.

So, our cousin (31m) was getting married last month, and he and his new husband wanted to have quite a relaxed wedding. What they did specify though was that people should be in “whatever formal attire was most comfortable for you” on the invitations.

I asked my sister if she wanted to come do wedding attire shopping (be that a dress or a suit or whatever) with me, but she said that she already had what she wanted to wear and that she was good. So, I assumed that she had picked something that fit with the theme, because well it’s a broad theme hard to mess up, and didn’t pry further.

When we were getting ready to go though, she came out of her room in what can only be described as Japanese schoolgirl style lingerie. It was a little “dress”, more like a camisole really. It was dangerously short, quite sheer and tbh the whole dressing up as a sexified version of a schoolgirl outfit thing is deeply repulsive to me, so I was not impressed.

I told her that it was a formal event, not a clubbing night, and that she needed to wear something else. She started on about how our cousin said we could dress in whatever we were most comfortable in, to which I replied that I didn’t believe she was comfortable in that outfit to begin with and that he said whatever FORMAL attire we were comfortable in. He meant not to enforce the gender binary, not have people in “pedo-bait lingerie.”

I admit that “pedo-bait lingerie” was a bit too harsh on my end, but I mean really what other reason do they make lingerie like that? Its no different to the “sexy schoolgirl” outfits they make of Western school uniforms, I’m not going to give it a pass because they’re sexualising pre-teens from a different culture. But we didn’t really have time for a philosophical discussion about the ethics of sexy schoolgirl costumes and calling it “pedo-bait lingerie” was poor wording on my part. I didn’t mean that she was attempting to bait in pedos, but that is what she took from that.

Anyway, we got into a fight about whether clothes are inherently sexual or not which was very stupid and went on for far too long, before I said “it doesn’t matter if its inherently sexual or not, the invitation says formal and showing up in that is only going to cause a scene and take the attention away from [cousin and fiancée] on their wedding day, and you don’t want the memory of their wedding to be tainted by people talking about how you kept accidently flashing people, do you?”

At that point she stomped off, and came back wearing a dress she’d worn to our brother’s graduation and then we went to the wedding. She avoided me the whole wedding, and our mother ended up calling me the day after to ask for my side of the story, because my sister had told her that I had slut shamed her and forced her to change. After I explained, our parents are on my side, but idk they do lean more conservative so getting outside opinions would be appreciated.

AITA?    

What are these acronyms?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"I Laugh in the Face of Danger."

The meeting of two grumpy cats (Rollo and Leona) 😳 Not me inserting a Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish reference, thereby just throwing more cats into the concoction...

My mentor Leona bias also rears its head…

A Big Savanaclaw Welcome to Rollo!

It was a grave mistake on Rollo’s part to waltz into Savanaclaw in his normal attire. The weather is warm, causing sweat to pool and stick to his clothes during the trek to the dorm building. But no, he won't so much as roll up his sleeves or unbutton his collar--that would be an affront to Noble Bell College's uniform!!

It doesn't help his mood that the students jeer as he passes, making comments about how he "won't last five minutes" in their territory. I think you'll find that it is yourselves who won't last five minutes in my presence, Rollo bitterly remarks--though only to himself. He'd have his revenge on them soon enough.

Rollo is miraculously able to suppress the urge to chide them then and there, not wishing to make a public scene. As soon as he steps inside of the dorm building though, he's quickly confronted with a new challenger: Leona Kingscholar.

He was expecting a dorm leader to present themselves with some level of decorum. Those expectations are quickly shattered when he enters to find Leona lounging in bed, Ruggie picking up clothing scattered on the floor, and Jack trying (and failing) to convince his dorm leader to get up.

Ruggie and Jack notice Rollo right away, their ears perking and eyes sharpening as soon as they pick up on his footsteps. Leona doesn't even spare a glance until he casually rolls over onto his side. At last, the lion beastman draws himself up and purrs, "Well, well, well. Look what we have here, our exalted guest from the City of Flowers."

"Were I truly an 'exalted' guest in your eyes, you would have taken more care to mediate your slovenly presentation," Rollo replied, a slight edge to his voice. His patience, worn. “… A pleasure.”

“For fresh meat, you’re quick to nitpick and nag,” Leona snorts. “Maybe you aren’t aware, but around here, I’m the king and my orders are absolute.”

“Then surely a king would behave with more grace and tact. Unfortunately, I sense very little in you.” Already, there is tension in the air, which Ruggie is quick to pick up on.

"Hey, hey, let's all chillax! You guys only just met, and you're about to have a fight? Let's at least wait until we have lunch first!" the hyena suggests. "Right, Jack-kun?" ("R-Right, Ruggie-senpai!" the first year obediently agrees with his upperclassman, then moves in to help tear the two apart.)

Leona and Rollo take their meals separately, not bothering to speak much to the other. As Rollo munches on a croissant, he frowns judgmentally at how Leona tears into meat like some wild animal.

The more he observes of the place, the more it is affirmed that Rollo doesn’t care for Savanaclaw in general—the students are rowdy and classless, and the heat unbearable. Worse yet, he can’t tear his eyes away from their hideous uniform. That can hardly be called a shirt, he laments. You can see so much of the skin that should be covered by fabric!

To Rollo’s horror, Ruggie dares to seat himself in front of him, wearing an impish smile as he kicks up his feet. “What’s up, Rollo-kun?” Ruggie asks with a snicker.

“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, you charlatan. You know perfectly well what is ‘up’ here,” Rollo quips back. He prepares to pick up his food and relocate to a different spot, but finds his way blocked off by Jack of all people. Ever the loyal guard dog, he's been wary of Rollo ever since Ruggie told the big story of what went down in the City of Flowers. I'll make sure he doesn't try anything funny again! Jack swears to himself.

Cornered by the duo, Rollo is forced to sit back down. “… Are you thugs trying to intimidate me? Shake me down for all my pocket money?” he demands of them. “It won’t work. You’ll find that I am quite sufficient in the art of self-defense.”

Jack looks to Ruggie for guidance--it's him who knows the most about Rollo of the trio. He leans close to Rollo and, with a grin, says, "Aww, why the mopey face? C'mon, we're not that bad to hang out with. Leona-san just made a bad first impression~ Don't think too badly of him, he's a great guy behind it all."

Rollo casts a doubtful look at Leona, who glares back at him. "I fail to see your perspective."

"You should join us for a match of Magift after lunch then. You'll see how he rules the court and the pack." ("As though I would play around with you scoundrels," Rollo bitterly retorts. "We are not children running haphazardly on a playground.")

"Wooow, Jack," Ruggie lazily huffs. "Looks like we don't have much of a team player here, huh? You know what to do." ("Right, Ruggie-senpai!")

"Excuse me? Just what are you... W-Wait one moment!! GAAAAARGHHHHH!!" Rollo soon finds himself hoisted up and over Jack's shoulder, ferried off to Savanaclaw's Magift stadium.

"Leona-saaan! Everything's in place," Ruggie calls to his dorm leader. Leona wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks. "... Good going, Ruggie. We've got him right where we want him. Now let's see what this herbivore's really made of."

Rollo doesn't realize it, but Leona's been carefully observing him ever since he stepped foot in Savanaclaw. Everything, from the controlled way he looks and talks, implies to Leona that Rollo's putting on a mask--and he fully intends to rip that mask off, revealing his true face.

("Eh, but I already told you everything there is to tell," Ruggie had complained. "Why are we even doing this?" "You're still being paid, aren't you? If I were you, I'd shut your trap before I take back that bonus," Leona replied.)

They're out on the field now. Rollo finds himself surrounded by mob students, each of them looking like they want to tear right into him. When Leona saunters over, disc in hand, they all clear a path for him. "You know how to play?" he asks, to which Rollo scowls.

"I refuse to entertain this charade." With that, Rollo turns on his heel and begins to walk away. He half expects the dorm leader to send his pack after him, but instead he just hears Leona going, "... Suit yourself then. Think fast."

The disc comes whizzing at him, hard and fast, followed by a strong blow of Leona’s wind magic. Rollo doesn't have time to think, it's going to collide with him if he doesn’t—

Against his better judgment, Rollo’s body springs into action. The ring upon his right hand gleams with a dazzling light, magically repelling the disc flying at him and expelling the magical winds. The disc anticlimactically clatters to the ground, and shame floods Rollo—how could he have reacted like that, let magic guide his body?

The lion beastman wears the most self-satisfied smirk Rollo has ever witnessed. “Heh. I knew you had it in you, herbivore. You’re stronger than you look.” He motions, and the Savanaclaw students move in on his command. “Don’t go easy on him.”

“S-Sir! Isn’t this too much?!” Jack objects—the only one of the pack to do so. Rollo would have praised his moral compass had Jack not already played a part in the act. Villains, all of them.

“Jack,” Leona drawls, “I’m shocked to hear that from you. You saw what the man did just now. That’s a high-level defensive spell he cast on a whim. It’d be in poor taste to ‘play nice’ with him—it’d belittle his competence as a mage.”

When he puts it like that, Jack has no choice but to step down and concede with his dorm leader’s logic. Rollo’s absolutely appalled and flabbergasted at Leona’s charisma and skillful twisting of the truth. Perhaps he underestimated him after all—it’s now clear to Rollo that Leona is very, very dangerous.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Leona asks, this time of Rollo. “Pick it up. Pick. It. Up.”

He does, and he makes a run for it.

So begins a ruthless game of cat and mouse on broomsticks, the entire dorm against Rollo. He detests every second of it, doing his best to survive with as little magic as possible amongst the beasts hounding him. Alas, he has to expend some to get out of a few close calls—namely with Leona blasting him.

Rollo comes close to exploding on the spot when he catches some of the Savanaclaw students tearing off their shirts or lifting them to mop up the sweat on their foreheads, giving him (unwanted) glimpses of their toned bodies. “Disgusting…! Deplorable…! Shameless…!” He mutters such accusations all the darn day.

Leona at last calls his goons off and they scatter like the last vestiges of sunlight as the night closes in. It’s just the two of them upon a moonlit stage, staring the other down with suspicious eyes.

Rollo falls, out of breath and head spiraling from exhaustion. Dread courses through his veins when Leona’s shadow falls over him. The lion doesn’t attack or taunt, only smirks. “… You did well. For an herbivore, that is.”

Leona chucks a water bottle at him and collapses beside Rollo, chugging a bottle of his own. Rollo steadily sits up, but dares not drink the water offered to him. He clenches it tightly in his hand. “I’m not in need of your approval, Leona-kun.”

“No one said I was giving it to you.”

They sit in silence for a few moments more, Leona’s gaze fixed on the stars and Rollo staring at Leona. Confused, without answers. “… Why did you accost me?” he demands to know.

“Wanted to confirm a hunch. If we’re going to be forced to host a guest, might as well get something out of it. Cats have their curiosity, you know.” Leona swigs the last of his water and crunches he bottle that remains. “… I heard about you from Ruggie.” A harsh laugh. “Real dumb shit you tried to pull there.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” Rollo snaps.

Leona’s lip curls. He’s not offended—no, he’s mildly amused. “I know your type. You think you’re above it all, that you can prove everyone wrong. Got lofty ambitions. Then the world kicks you down and you have to claw your way back up to where you once were.”

The accusation catches him off-guard, and Rollo immediately takes becomes defensive. “Wh-What… What could you possibly know about me?!” You don’t know what I’ve been through, how much I’ve suffered! How much he suffered…!

“… I don’t,” Leona confesses nonchalantly, “but I know we’ve both got a bone to pick with the lizard, and that’s enough.“ He could offer more advice, more consolation. Be better. Change. Don’t be like me. But he doesn’t.

It’s then that the realization hits Rollo—this man, this villain, sitting beside him, must have experiences akin to his own. A quiet understanding. Rollo’s expression complicates, and he can’t bring himself to meet Leona’s eyes again. In the darkness, they’re bright and piercing, seeking souls to swallow.

"… Life's not fair, is it?" Leona simpers.

"... No. No, it's not."

Rollo lifts his head to the stars, wondering if his brother is watching over him from on above. He allows his eyes to drift shut, and he slowly drinks in the night, savoring its taste.

Rollo’s about to say something else to Leona—a question, a comment, a prayer? But when he looks back, Leona has already dozed off. Rollo sighs and shakes his head. “Honestly… you Night Raven College students are as incorrigible as they come.”

[simplydannie]

A story that suddenly came to my mind one day. And I just couldn’t shake it off! I apologize for the angst 💔

Velvet and Veneer are sent back to Under Rageous to serve the rest of their term, until one day, a bail comes for Velvet and an invitation back to Mount Rageous.

One condition: Veneer is not invited and has another fate awaiting him. What will she choose?

Prison. Otherwise known as the Mount Rageous Detention Center for Troubled Youth.

That’s where Velvet and Veneer stayed for the first couple of months. But the truth was brought to the surface eventually… the twins were from the under-city… and that region could take care of their own.

The twins were in a black vehicle headed back down to the Under Rageous facility. The ride was long and silent. Velvet and Veneer sat in the back seat, handcuffed, still sporting their orange uniform. Veneer looked over to his sister.

“Hey Vels.” He attempted to make small talk. Velvet had ignored him since they got to prison. The last words she spoke to him was at the Rage Dome, where he made everything go to hell. She wanted no part with him. Velvet practically forced them at the detention center to room them apart after she severely beat him up. She didn’t care what he was up to, many times he requested to see her, but she refused, she just couldn’t stand him at the moment.

“Vels?” He attempted to say it again, but she continued to ignore him. He missed her voice, he missed the interaction between the two of them. After all these months of not talking, they felt like strangers more than siblings. Veneer did what he did for their own good… at least he hoped so… it didn’t feel like it now that they were headed back to the under-city.

The lighting outside lost its brilliance, its joy, they knew the full, gloomy light of the under-city. The darkness that loomed over them, no light, nothing coming through from above. They glanced upon the darkened buildings, the dark cybernetic feel of what is Under Rageous. The car continued further until they came upon a facility. It was about 4 stories high, walls dark and gray….the Under Rageous Detention Center for Criminal Youth… yes, big difference.

They were escorted from the car towards the front gates. At least the detention center in Mount Rageous was adorned in jewels and gems, beautiful white plastered walls. It felt like a resort… but this one, this was made to feel more like prison, more like hell.

They walked through the front gates and into the building where a Rageon was waiting for them. He was tall, pale skin, though not nearly as pale as the twins. Short, dark red stringy hair, buzzed from one side. He was dressed in all black: cargo pants, boots, jacket. When he smiled, he displayed his filed down sharp teeth.

“We’ll take it from here gentlemen.” He shooed away the Mount Rageous guards. Without hesitation, they left the twins in the presence of the mature Under Rageon. “Well, well, Velvet and Veneer. What an honor. I have to admit you hit down here as much as you hit up there… just not for the same reasons. Follow me.”

Without a word the twins followed him down the hall. They walked by cells that contained for less friendly, far less attractive inmates. These inmates defined the word brutal in both appearance and attitude. Velvet walked by unbothered, while Veneer shrunk himself smaller.

“Now here in Under Rageous, you broke the most important rule we have: do not talk about the kidnapping or torture of Trolls to anyone..”

“Tell that to him.” Velvet gestured at her brother. Veneer swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. The Under Rageon turned and cocked his head, a smirk forming in his lips.

“The fate of your sentence has yet to be determined. In the meantime, enjoy your stay.” He opened the cell that would house both twins.

“No. I’m not staying with him.” Velvet signaled to her brother.

“Oh?”

“Last time I almost killed him. Unless you want that blood in your hands.” She stated.

“I honestly don’t care what you do to each other. But I need you both unharmed in the meantime, but very well. Follow me pretty boy.” The Rageoun motioned. Veneer gave Velvet a terrified glance… him? Alone? At an Under Rageous prison? But Velvet could care less. She walked into the cell and never looked back at him. The Under Rageous guards grabbed him firmly by the arm and led him away. He glanced back at his sister, hoping she would turn around, hoping she would change her mind, call out his name…she never did…

The guard guiding Veneer shoved him fiercely, “Keep walking.” Veneer glanced at the cells as they passed by. They were full of scary looking Under Rageons…Under Rageons that could definitely rip out his throat. The thought of rooming with one of those guys was terrifying. He hoped and hoped he wouldn’t. Veneer was escorted to a cell where they shoved him inside.

“Traitor.” The guard mumbled before he left. Veneer cocked his head to the side. Traitor? Was he really a traitor? Perhaps he was….he did betray his own sister up at the Rage Dome. He threw her under the bus along with himself. Perhaps he should’ve spared her. He should’ve lied and said it was all his idea, leave her out of it. He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

“I am so sorry, Vels.” He whispered. He had to make it up to her, he just had too. But how? They were on opposite ends of the prison now, and she dared not talk to him. Standing up he walked over to the desk within his cell. Veneer rummaged through hoping to find….

“Yes!” He exclaimed, pulling out a pencil and paper….He would write. He would write to her hoping she’d accept his letters….He would write to Floyd, hoping the little Troll would respond to him. But he had to be cautious, he couldn’t give the people of Under Rageous any idea where the Trolls were…so perhaps writing to Floyd would have to wait…

Days rolled by, and it was obvious the twins had to be kept away from the Under Rageous inmates…for the twins' own good. Velvet had nearly gotten into a couple of fights before Veneer jumped in to save her. She knew it was his way of trying to make up to her, trying to talk to her, but she wouldn’t give in. At one moment an inmate was severely beating her brother, but Velvet didn’t budge, she didn’t move…. She enjoyed watching the pain. Why? She never really enjoyed it before? She would rage at anyone who touched her brother that way. But there, in the yard, as the giant boy swung away at Veneer’s face, Velvet’s eyes began to glow pink…Her desire was for Veneer to feel the pain she did at his betrayal…and this was it.

Keep hitting him, he deserves it, her mind raced. She was broken out of her trance when the guards came in to break the fight apart. The tall, red-haired head Rageon returned, “You guys aren’t going to make this easy are you.” He smiled a sharp toothed grin.

They spent the rest of the passing days isolated from the rest of the compound…and each other. Velvet began marking the days on her walls. Eventually those days turned into weeks. She continued to receive letter upon letter from Veneer. Velvet would just throw them away, he still wasn’t worth her time, perhaps he may never be worth anything again. She began to wonder what would be of her…What was the penalty down here in Under Rageous?

A black SUV type vehicle pulled up in front of the Under Rageous detention center. The door was opened and an adult female Rageon from the upper city stepped out. Her white heels clicked down the hall. Her suit was maroon, adorned in jewels and gems. She had sepia colored skin and carob hair pulled into a ponytail. Her sunglasses covered her eyes. She continued to walk until she was at the door of the lead Rageon of the establishment.

“I assume you’re in charge.” She demanded as she stood by the door.

“Please, make yourself at home.” He mocked standing up from behind his desk. He didn’t really care or like Mount Rageons much, but this one was breathtaking.

She crossed her arms and clicked her heels against the floor, “Word got to my boss that our twins were sent back down here.”

“Really? After all these weeks you barely notice? Not very observant are we?” He smirked.

She ignored his mockery and continued to speak, “It was against my bosses wishes. She’s going to deal with that later. For now, what’s the bail price on our girl's head?” The male Rageon tilted his head, confusion plastered on his face.

“Velvet. What is her bail price?”

“I was not told they would be out for bail. There is a penalty for what they did, rather, what they stupidly admitted too.” He responded.

“If I remember correctly, Veneer was the one to openly admit to using Trolls. Now, I will only ask one more time. What. Is. The. Bail. Price.”

There was no staring this woman down. She was the definition of power…she was part of the power up in Mount Rageous, which meant money .... and lot’s of it.

“For the troubles she nearly cost us: a quarter million.” His grin was smug. Perhaps the price was too high even for the snobby upper Rageons…

“Done.” She responded plainly. He was lost for words, his mouth gaped open at her quick agreement.

“You’re serious? A quarter million for some bratty teen.”

The woman smiled, “Oh you don’t know the half of it… Besides, you’re going to like this part next.”

“And what is that?”

“My boss is able to pay double the price if you could deal with our little disappointment we call Veneer.”

The male Rageon smiled, “Okay, keep talking.”

A couple more days since the meeting between the two Rageons had passed. Velvet continued marking up her wall. Her room was a mess as she rampaged through everything, tossing and tearing everything out of anger. She felt weird, something about her wasn’t right… she didn’t feel right ...what she wanted was more Troll. The essence they gave off gave her a euphoria like never before. It caused the chemistry in her brain to feel and think in ways she could never have thought of…it had made her body feel strong and energetic. Now, she felt weak, vulnerable to the world…

Her thoughts were interrupted as two guards came in. They tossed her a duffle bag. “Pack up.” They told her.

“What.” She plainly demanded.

“Pack up. Your bail is here.”

Veneer was in his cell writing another letter to his sister. He’d lost count how many he has written, and to none did she ever write back. He’d wish he could write to Floyd, but has yet found a way to here in the under-city.

Loneliness began to settle in each passing day. He didn’t do well with loneliness… that’s when the dark thoughts began swirling in his mind. Funny, he’d never had those thoughts before, only recently after using the Trolls essence. A nagging feeling and desire to hurt himself would daily come, as if his body craved for that sensation. Veneer would do his best to fight it off, but he didn’t know how much longer he could.

The doors to his cell opened. He turned to find two guards coming in, cuffs in hand.

“W-what did I do now?” He stammered.

One guard smirked, “Time for your sentence of your penalty.”

“P-penalty? I thought we w-would just serve our time and b-be done.” Veneer began to stutter as his nerves kicked in.

“This ain’t Mount Rageous, pretty boy.” The guard came over to him, tightly securing the cuffs around his wrists. Veneer winced at the coldness and pain the cuffs sent throughout his body. They led him out and back down the hallway…. They led him past Velvet's cell… it was empty.

“Hey! Where’s my sister?!”

After gathering her things, Velvet was escorted towards a back exit. She held her bag close, in its pocket she stuffed some sort of shank, a weapon, just in case things went south. Who in the world would bail them? And why? At the end of the hallway stood the tall male Rageon they met when they first arrived.

“Leaving us so soon?” He smirked as he opened the door. Velvet hesitated, but eventually, she stepped out the door….in front of her was a black SUV. Standing right by it was a Rageon woman: sepia colored skin, carob hair…. Velvet recognized her right away.

“There’s my little pop star.”

The two guards ignored Veneers demand and continued to pull him down the hall.

“Where’s Velvet?” He began to pull, he began to resist.

“Enough beanpole!” The guards began poking him with more force as Veneer continued to resist.

“Velvet!” He called out hoping he’d hear her voice. What did they do to her? Where did they take her? He’d kill them all if he found out she was hurt. “VELS!” He called out again.

“What the hell? Why are you here?” Velvet crossed her arms and stared the woman down.

“Why do you think so?” She gestured towards the car. “We bailed you out. All crimes have been washed from your record. The little “incident” that occurred at the Rage Dome has been taken care of. You’re free to come back and live the life you once had.”

Velvets mouth dropped… she could go back? She could get out of here and go back…the fame, the adoration, the love she could get once more. She came back to reality for a moment

“Where’s Veneer?” Velvet asked.

“He’ll be taken care of, but this invitation back up top is only extended to you. Unfortunately, your brother has failed us, he won’t be invited back.”

“So he stays here?”

“As I said, he’ll be taken care. We made sure of it. It’s the least we could do, actually.” The woman opened the door. “Well, what will it be?”

Velvet had a choice… remain here in hell with her brother, or go back and redeem herself in Mount Rageous. She had no intention of stopping, it was Veneer who spoiled everything when he decided to be noble. Why did she have to pay for his stupid decision? She already had anyway… he wanted this, so he could suffer here alone.

Velvet picked up her duffle bag and made her way inside the car. She didn’t see the woman smirk triumphantly. She looked at the tall male Rageon still at the entrance to the facility and gave him a small nod.

“Show time boys.” He said as he went back inside.

“Let me go!” Veneer thrashed and struggled, he managed to hit one of the guards nearly freeing himself.

“Kids a fighter.” They murmured to themselves. Slowly, but surely they finally made it to their destination… the medical ward. They kicked the doors open as they pulled in a strugglingVeneer.

“Where’s my sister!” Veneer demanded over and over. He headed butted a guard.

CRUNCH!

“AHHH YOU LITTLE BRAT!” The guard held tightly to his nose as it began to bleed. Finally free, Veneer ran towards the direction from which they came. He opened the doors…

THUD!

Running full force into a body he fell back.

“And where do you think you’re going?” It was the tall, red head, male Rageon. He snapped at his guards behind him, they rushed over and got Veneer back on his feet. Four of them carried him to a seat in the far corner of the room. Veneer continued to struggle as they strapped him down.

“W-what is this…” Veneer looked at his surroundings: needles, syringes, some type of bottled chemicals all aligned the drawers and shelves. The male Rageon took a small wired pad, he unbuttoned Veneers shirt and placed it over his heart. He strapped his head against the headrest.

“It’s your penalty.” The Rageon smiled.

The car ride back to Mount Rageous was silent. Velvet glanced to her left… where Veneer would normally sit. He’d always be next to her. It felt weird… it felt wrong. Was she doing the right thing?

She finally broke the silence, “How will they take care of him?”

The woman looked up from her phone surprised, “Excuse me.”

“Veneer. You said you made sure they’d take care of him, how?” Velvet asked again.

The woman smiled, attempting to sound and look sincere. “We made sure no harm would come to your brother again. That he spend whatever time he has down there in peace…. He won’t suffer. We promise you that.”

A guard rolled up Veneer's sleeve as the head male Rageon gathered a liquid into a needled syringe. The heart monitor began beeping loudly as Veneer grew nervous.

“Penalty? What penalty?” He asked.

“Someone didn’t like what you did. Neither did we. You almost exposed are high value black market down here. This wasn’t going to be in the books, but these people paid handsomely.” He flicked the needle to make sure the liquid was secured

“…. Paid for what?” Veneer asked again.

“Why, your death penalty of course.”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP…

The heart monitor went out of control as genuine fear entered his body. He attempted to pull himself free, but he was stuck tight.

“Where’s my sister? I want to see her please.” He begged.

“Sorry kiddo. Your sister decided to go back. Live the life of luxury.” The man smiled as he neared Veneer with the needle.

“No… she wouldn’t… you’re lying…” Pain set in Veneer's heart. Did she really just abandon him? Leave him here to his death?

“Vels!” He cried out as he struggled against his restraints. She wouldn’t leave him, she’d come in right now to stop them. “Vels!!”

“Hold him steady.”

The guards around Veneer placed a firm grasp on him. Even through his restraints he managed to move and thrash.

“VELS!” He cried again, tears staining his eyes. “VELS PLEASE!….. FLOYD!… IM SORRY! ….PLEASE SOMEONE!”

The male Rageon inserted the needle…. And pushed the liquid through…it came quickly….

An irresistible calmness overcame Veneer's body, he could feel himself begin to grow limp.

“….Velvet…..Floyd…” His voice began to turn into a whisper, the heart monitor began to slow down.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

Yet, he still tried fighting the chemicals that tried to claim his body, but it wasn’t enough. Veneer saw his vision begin to blur, he lost all feeling in his body, the only thing he could still feel was his heart beat slowly fading….

“Vennie. Sweetheart, can you hear me?” He heard his mothers voice. A peace began overcoming his body

“…mom…” He barely whispered.

“It’s okay honey. Let go. Come home to us. We miss you.”

“…. okay…..”

The heart monitor flat lined.

[dellalyra]

Hey,i saw your reqs are open! So if i may, can i request for gojo with a fem s/o who i as strong as him but no one knows that since she hides that from EVERYONE. (Maybe she thinks shes alone with a curse and she is toying with a special grade curse and easily kills it, and gojo accidentally sees that and is like.... You're stronger than you let ppl know?)

Thats it and i hope u have a great day!!

Family Formation - Part Nine

Summary: Satoru discovers the extent of readers cursed technique.

CW: fluff, canon typical violence, mentions of mythology, fluff, fluff, teen satoru and reader (17/18), the elders (angry face)

A/N: this was SUCH A FUN REQUEST I love reading about powerful readers so this was a lot of fun to write, I wrote it this was bc I also felt I needed to explore their dynamic pre-relationship and also Y/N’s cursed technique before I get to other *ahemshibuyaahem* parts of the story. thank u all so much for all the love and support :) <3

Recommended Listening:

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo (reader’s fight)

The Fruits - Paris Paloma (the explanation)

The Tradition - Halsey (the backstory)

Won’t Bite - Doja Cat (the ending)

The sunlight reached its peak, reflecting off Satoru’s bright white hair. Geto was bored and taking a ‘rest’ day and Shoko… well, she threw a water bottle at home when he even approached her room. That left you, he needed someone to hang out with, something to do because all of this hanging around was going to drive him even nuts than he already was. He text Shoko, asking where you were since you two were joined at the hip usually and you weren’t answering your phone. She replied telling him you’d been sent on a mission alone that morning – some abandoned orphanage down by the Shinjuku district. The next line nearly made the man’s eyes pop out of his head – a semi-grade one? Alone? You were only in second grade and the same age as him. Only a 1st year. Sure, you could hold your own in a fight but – this seemed like a reckless match.

Pulling on his sneakers and bomber jacket (not wearing his uniform felt weird) he Googles Shinjuku Abandoned Orphanage and finds an article about one being shut down 3 years ago due to the children speaking of ‘witnessing paranormal activity’, it had been closed due to the terrible publicity surrounding it. He rang for a driver and pointed him in the right direction.

A 20-minute ride was filled with Satoru thinking about how he should have been sent on this mission – not you, he was the strongest sorcerer alive after all. He kept telling himself the gnawing feeling in his gut was excitement for a fight – not worry, he wasn’t worrying about you. No, not. Why would he?

He could hear Suguru’s voice in his head from their last mission together.

“Bro, you love her. Just accept it, my guy. It’s clear she’s into you too.”

The car pulls up and Satoru unfolds himself from the back seat and waves the driver off. The building in front of him is surrounded by barbed wire fences, it’s been vacant for a long time if the boarded-up windows set in the building’s imposing front are anything to go by. He could sense a strong cursed energy, definitely a semi-grade one – along with something else, something stronger. Something far more ancient and far more powerful. It was familiar but different.

He had to find you.

He pinpointed the location where both energies were – third story, east wing, 5 doors down the corridor. He raced his way down thinking about how he’d love to practice his techniques warping abilities so he could quit all this running around. Maybe someday in the future, he’ll be able to just *poof* into a room. He was surely gonna do that to annoy Shoko.

He slowed down, nearing the room as he heard a familiar laugh coming from the room.

He knew that laugh, it always made his heart skip a beat – but why were you laughing now?

You were meant to be in danger. Not that he was hoping to be your knight in shining armour so he could see that shiny look of adoration in your eyes – no, that’s ludicrous.

The door was hanging off its hinges and nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside the room.

You.

Y/N.

But – different.

You stood, your stature still miniature in comparison to his lanky, boyish frame but you seemed so much larger now, your presence was pulsating through the room – overwhelming to anyone but him.

Your feet were bare on the concrete floor and you seemed to almost hop around your prey, your tiny little hands, nails usually painted a pretty pale green – we’re still pale green but not your nails, no – claws were protruding out of your dainty little hands. He could see from here they were as sharp as any cursed knife. Your hair, seemed longer and wait, were those… vines? Vines and leaves seemed to grow from your head as naturally as the hair itself, mingling with the pretty cascade of your hair down your spine. Your eyes he so often couldn’t take his own off were alight and you were talking, and when you opened those pretty lips that he flirted with you about how much he’d like to taste your lip gloss – leaving you to tell him to save his flirts for someone he was into (both of you were so oblivious to the obvious feelings that you held for each other that Shoko and Suguru might cry if it went on any longer), he saw two sharp as needle fangs, pearly white on your pillowy lips.

You were completely and utterly ethereal.

What shocked him – was the mess in the middle of the room. A grotesque mess of a curse – horrifyingly long, spindly limbs attached to a body that was just stretched mottled skin over bones – the whole body covered in beady eyes, almost insect-like. The creature had no discernible head, just those torturous limbs. He’d seen worse things before.

He had seen your techniques, you could do things like to make a wall of thorns to deflect curses - he’d seen you summon whips of vines to lash at and bind a curse, he’d even seen you seemingly have a chat with a ladybug one day. And of course, your marksmanship with your cursed longbow was unrivalled, sniping shots that seemed impossible. He knew you were a very capable sorcerer, the most intelligent he knew in the school (even beyond Nanami). Your love for books helped that too.

What shocked him was what you had done. It looked like the very earth was cooperating with your every whim, grasses and vines and tree branches had broken their way through the floor and were caging the fighting curses limbs as they grew weaker and weaker against your onslaught. There was a beam coming through the ceiling, moonlight? At 2 pm? It seemed to sear and burn the curse in licking flames as it shot down onto it before returning to the shape of a small, silvery orb and absorbing itself into your palm.

“You lay here, waiting each day for night to fall, didn’t you? To prey on these children, to torture their little minds with fears and terrors – to be the monster under their bed. The children who were already scarred and frightened – but you knew that, and you loved it, didn’t you? Oh, you loved the feeling of drinking up the screams of those innocent children – and do you know what that makes you? It makes you a monster. Funnily enough, my family were taught and raised for one destiny, but me especially, I was born with ancient rage, and I was born with the strength for one thing – to kill monsters, just like you.”

And with that, you notched an arrow into your bow and muttered something under your breath.

“You won’t harm anyone anymore. Sleep well.” And with a smile, the arrow tip glowed a soft gold and flew threw the air into the restricted body of the curse who was quickly engulfed in a golden light as it screamed and fell, returning to the ground as nothing but dust.

“Nurture the earth now, do some good for the world.” You whisper, low enough that Satoru could barely hear. How you still manage to keep your heart so soft will always amaze him.

Satoru’s phone dropped from his hand, and you spin, notching another arrow into your bow and aiming directly at his head.

You gasp when you realise who’s here.

“Gojo, what are you doing here? How long have you been there?” You ask, lowering your weapon.

“Y/N. What the fuck. YOU HAVE CLAWS.” His jaw was hanging open, hardly believable image of what he’d seen.

That ancient energy wasn’t another curse, you hadn’t been in danger – you had been the danger.

You sigh. Gojo would have found out sooner or later, guess it was sooner. A part of you was worried about what he’d seen, would he think it ugly? Would he think you cursed? This boy – you had accepted your feelings but even though you thought (idiot) he’d never love you back, you didn’t want him to think any less of you.

Well, no escaping this conversation now.

“Wanna grab boba? I’m done here so, we can grab some on the way back to school. I’m guessing you have some questions.”

Uncharacteristically quiet, he just nods.

You walk ahead, slinging your bow on your back and taking out your phone. He sees you dial Yaga’s number.

“Hey, yeah it’s all done. Just as we thought.” You say, and he hears the deep rumble of his sensei’s voice through the speaker.

“Yeah thing is, I’ve had an unexpected visitor. Seems someone thought I might not be able to do it alone so showed up at the end. Yeah, I have it handled. Yup, exactly who you think. Yaga! Stop! I’ll see you later.”

You hang up the phone, just as you reach your favourite boba shop.

“Drinks are on you, Satoru – you gatecrashed my mission.” You smirk.

“Hardly gatecrashed if I turned up and feared for the safety of my pretty face!” The shock had worn off now and he was just in awe and desperate to hear what the fuck he witnessed.

He ordered you both your usual orders and sat across from you at a secluded table outside. You notice the dewy drop of sugary tea on his lip, his skin glistening under the golden sun. God. How can someone be that beautiful, surely it’s illegal?

“So sugar - you’ve been hiding something from your dearest darling best friends, haven’t you?” He looks at you with eyebrows raised.

“Not my choice. It’s a complicated situation. Yaga thought it best to keep it under wraps until I’m 18.”

“I hear ya – but the question still stands: keep what under wraps? Here was me coming to my princess’s rescue,” your cheeks flushed at his (what you thought) casual flirting.

“It’s a long story – you sure you’ve got nothing better to be doing, Mr Honoured One, no ladies to dazzle with those pretty eyes of yours?” You laugh, slurping up a brown sugar Pearl.

“Oh I’ll always have enough time for you, sugar, plus – am I not dazzling a pretty girl now?” You both giggle it off, unaware that he’s being serious and that you were dazzled by him long before today.

There’s a beat of silence.

“My family’s inherited technique. The elders think it’s long extinct but I was born with it. Legend says my family is descended from dryads, forest spirits, you’ve known that nature is the root, no pun intended, of my technique since the start but – it goes a bit deeper. I’m listed as grade two, but only because the elders don’t know the truth. I’m meant to hide everything until I’m 18, so only 5 months left to go anyway. The elders will throw a bitch fit when they find out. Your ancestor La and mine worked together, and when I was born my mother and grandmother chose to keep the technique hidden until I was legally an adult and could make my own informed choices about whether or not I wanted to stay part of the jujutsu world. The elders… don’t take kindly to my family. We’re kind of considered outcasts, like the Inumaki clan.” You say, taking a breather to sip your drink.

“Why? Your mom is so nice” He adds in.

“Ah well, my family, we’re very much a matriarchal family. The women have typically done everything in their power to fight the elders on their idiocy. Given that they’re old, sexist men – this didn’t go down well. So we’ve typically been hounded by them. Then, I was born. Not only the heir to my clan but a woman which ancient cursed abilities. Our family has always scared them, but I’m their worst nightmare trifecta. I made a deal with my family, I’d keep it secret until I’m 18, then I’m free to do as I wish..” You added, smiling, because in truth – being the bane of the elders’ lives was a source of pride.

“So they hid it until you can make your own choices, and take the helm of the clan leader at 18?” He asks.

“Yeah, my mom just wants a quiet life. She’s travelling the world writing of jujutsu sorcery and my grandma is holding the fort. We’re not quite the Gojo’s, Zen’in’s or Kamo’s – but we’re a very old sorcery family, so we’ve influence enough.”

“Y/N. You know you’re not grade two, right?” He asks, dead serious.

“I know, Gojo. I’m special grade. Yaga is a friend of my uncle’s so he agreed to keep it all quiet.” You finish up your drink.

“Gojo – what I’ve told you, only Yaga knows. This stays between us, okay?” He nods and crosses his heart.

“And don’t worry, you’re still the strongest. I’m just good backup.” He giggle, swinging your bag over your shoulder and motioning for him to follow.

“You say that part of your technique is ancient? And thought extinct? Which part? Now you’ve told me I wanna see everything.”

You look back and forth between the streets, and you find an empty alley.

You stop.

He stops.

“Snow leopards are your favourite animal, right?” You ask and he wonders why his heart skips a beat at you remember such a silly detail.

He cocks an eyebrow and agrees.

“I’d tell you to close your eyes, but it won’t do much good.” And with that, a flash a golden light encompasses you and instead of the oh so pretty girl he loves seeing in front of him is a snowy white, fluffy, golden eyed leopard.

And in a flash, you’re back in front of him.

“I can’t do it for long. It’s still really taxing to do and zaps my cursed energy.” You say, gripping his elbow and making your way back to the main road.

“Y/N. I hope you know. That might have been the coolest thing ever. Oh! Can you do like a little mouse so I can just hide you and carry you around in my pocket all day and give you cheese and –” his enthusiasm is cut off by your loud laughter.

“Maybe when I’m stronger Satoru, then I’ll stay with you all the time and you won’t have to follow me to my missions when you’re bored.” You’d text the driver to pick you both up.

“Hey! I was worried! I didn’t know you were some freaky nature fairy when I left did I? !” He grins, and god he looks so handsome in the late afternoon light.

You swat his arm.

“You’re one to talk Mr. I have nearly the same number of eyes as a spider.” And with that he tosses your much smaller form over his shoulder.

“Hey – you might be cool but I’m still the strongest and right now, it’s time for me to demonstrate that.” You half heartedly thump at his back as you laugh at him to put you down.

The car pulls up, a curious gaze from the driver who is thoroughly confused by why you’re over Gojo’s shoulder.

He tosses you into the backseat of the car.

“That’s for keeping secrets from your bestest friends ever.” He flicks your forehead, buckling your belt.

You just roll your eyes.

The drive back home is filled with idle chatter, but Gojo can’t stop thinking about how goddamn fucking perfect you are. You’ve always been strong, kind, beautiful, sexy, funny but god the feral determination he saw in you today shook him to his very core. You say your goodbyes as you head to shower and sleep, but your phone buzzes that night – with a terribly photoshopped picture of your face on a mouse, captioned – ‘btw- ur technique, it’s really beautiful Y/N, I’m really hpy I saw you like that, and thx for telling me, u nd ur secret r safe w me ’. You can’t fight the smile on your face, a weight lifted off your shoulder now that the boy you love knows everything about you – well, except that one secret. The one that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

Maybe some day.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

[sjsmith56]

Mr. Barnes Seizes the Day

Summary - AU one shot. Mr. Barnes, a bachelor grammar school principal romances a spinster teacher on his staff, after receiving his orders to report for duty in WW II.

Length: 6.5 K

Characters: James Barnes, named OFC.

Warnings: lack of confidence, fear of rejection, no smut although it is implied.

Author notes: Was going to wait on posting this but these recent pictures brought up an idea for a story. Other writers may see him as a mobster, but in this AU I see him as an unmarried school principal contemplating his life choices and deciding to do something about it.  Carpe diem is Latin, translated often to "seize the day." Images of Sebastian Stan by @popeofthebowery. 

Brooklyn, January 1943

He looked in the mirror as he did his tie, the same colour tie he had worn every school day for 18 years.  It had always been a black tie with a white shirt, a black sweater vest, and black suit, black shoes; his current uniform, soon to be replaced by a pink and green one.  The new uniform would actually be a dark olive drab jacket over a lighter shade drab for the trousers but he had it on good authority that the officers in the army called them pinks and greens.  It was going to be quite the change for the 40-year-old bachelor. 

James Barnes looked once again at the orders he received in the mail yesterday, to report for basic training, followed by officer school.  After all the years of being regarded as too soft to be anything but a teacher, Mrs. Barnes only son Bucky was going to war.  Not that the staff at the school knew him as Bucky.  To them, he was always Mr. Barnes, a quiet, bearded, unmarried man who seemed destined to always be alone.  After Ma died, he had been just that as his sisters were busy with their own families.  Well, at least with him being in the army, he would be going somewhere, doing something, instead of just being the principal at a grammar school in Brooklyn.  He sighed.  Maybe, just maybe he could get past his usual introverted nature and go out with a woman before he left.  Perhaps he could even finally get up the nerve to ask Miss Heathcott to dinner, or at least a walk in the park.  It had only been 12 years since she first joined the staff at the grammar school.  He really should have asked her out then when he was still a young man and had more to offer than the confirmed bachelor he now was.  How she was still unmarried was beyond him but maybe she was waiting for the right man.

He combed his hair into its usual place, put his vest on and went to the window, just like he did every weekday morning to see the weather, confirming that it looked like another grey winter day.  He turned around, taking in his two-bedroom apartment, his haven after a busy day dealing with the stress of running a school.  The bookcases full of his favourite titles, the gramophone, and records of the jazz music he loved, were his escape from his loneliness.  It suddenly bothered him that it would all be sitting here, unused unless he could find someone to sublet it to, someone who would look after it for him so that when he returned, he could live the quiet life again in his personal haven.

After his usual breakfast of two boiled eggs, toast and coffee, Mr. Barnes washed up the dishes, brushed his teeth, put his jacket on, then his overcoat, and his hat, ready for the brief walk to the subway station.  When he got there a lineup awaited him.  Now that gasoline and rubber were rationed, many people had to put their cars up on blocks and switch to public transportation.  It had made commuting longer and more crowded.  He stood in the packed train car, holding onto the strap that hung down from the top bar, trying to keep a respectable distance from the women who had joined the work force since the men were called to war.  At his stop, several others got off, going their different ways after leaving the station.  It was only a few minutes walk to the school, and he fished his master keys out.  Only he and the head custodian had them.  Mr. Barnes usually unlocked the school in the morning, Mr. Santucci locked it up at night.  He turned on the lights from the master electrical panel, then entered his office, taking his overcoat off.  Checking the thermostat, he made sure it read 72°, so that it would be warm for the children by the time they got there.  Then he started up the coffee urn in the staff room, before unlocking the staff door, knowing that they would start arriving within the next quarter hour.  It was all part of his usual morning routine, and it suddenly struck him how much he was stuck in that rut of duty, habit, and dullness.  Leaning against an empty wall he wondered what he had become.

He was still standing in the staff room, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, so he could empty the used grounds then clean the filter, to prevent the coffee from becoming bitter, when Miss Heathcott arrived.  She stepped inside, surprised to see Mr. Barnes leaning against a wall, looking down to the floor but not seeing anything.  He seemed a little pensive, then he heard her and straightened up, giving her a small smile.

"Good morning, Miss Heathcott," he said, politely, trying to restore his usual projection of calm leadership.  "You're early today."

"I had some final preparations for art class," she answered, taking her coat off and hanging it up in the closet.  "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?  You seem a little preoccupied."

"I am a little," he answered truthfully.  "I have an important announcement for the staff, but I'll wait for everyone to arrive before I make it.  It will only take a few moments between first bell and final bell."  He moved over to a chalkboard in the staff room.  "I guess I should put that down so that people return in time to hear the announcement.  Coffee is made if you wish to have some.  I still have to empty and clean the filter."

"Thank you," she smiled.  "I will.  I can clean the filter for you, since you were thoughtful enough to get it started."

She poured herself a coffee then opened the top and carefully lifted the filter with the steaming grounds out of the urn, aware that he was watching her.  Why it made her a little nervous today was a mystery to her.  They had worked together in the school for twelve years, her entire school career.  He had been a 5th grade teacher when she started fresh out of college.  Promoted to assistant principal ten years ago, and principal four years ago, he was still a handsome man and she had wondered if they could ever have more than a working relationship.  But his introverted nature, especially around women, became clear soon enough and she gave up any hope of him noticing her in a romantic sense, resigning herself to being a spinster since other men seemed as indifferent to her.  Still, he was always a gentleman, and an effective manager of their staff as he was quite unflappable by the shenanigans of some students, as well as being well respected by the parents.

Leaving the staff room to don his overcoat again and take on the supervision of arriving students, Mr. Barnes greeted everyone as they arrived.  There was always a persistent group of children around him, sharing the details of their lives.  He took it all in good stride, knowing from experience that for those children from a single parent family, they needed the attention of another adult to hear their thoughts and observations.  It was also a way for him to learn who was having difficulties with the necessities of life or dealing with issues that could be overwhelming.  For the children who were smaller, weaker, and prone to bullying, he was their knight in shining armour, making it very clear that particular behaviour was not tolerated at his school.  It was all part of keeping the school running efficiently while providing a safe learning environment.

Before the first bell sounded, he asked some of the more responsible students in the 5th grade to shepherd the younger students to their rooms as he had a brief staff meeting to attend.  When the bell sounded, he made sure everyone was lined up, filed inside in an orderly fashion, then he went straight to the staff room, removing his overcoat along the way.  The talking in the staff room stopped as he entered, placed his overcoat on a chair and stepped towards the chalkboard.

"Thank you for being here on time," he said.  "There is some important news to share after I received a letter in the mail yesterday.  I am to report for basic army training in one month.  After 8 weeks I am to attend officer training school, after which I will be sent to the European theatre.  I haven't informed the superintendent yet, but I will as soon as the morning classes start.  I will recommend that Mr. Miller be promoted to principal in my absence, but the final decision is with the administration of our school district, as are any decisions regarding assistant principal.  The parents and student body will be informed once we get the confirmation of the transfer of responsibility."

He waited for questions.  Since there weren't any, he nodded his head briefly at the staff, then left, picking up his overcoat along the way.  Mrs. Hardy, his secretary, followed a few minutes later, taking her position at the desk in the front office, while he hung his overcoat up.  He came out again, to supervise in the hallways before the final bell rang, signalling the start of the school day.  Satisfied that everyone was where they should be he returned to the office and sat at his desk to make that phone call to the superintendent's office.  With that out of the way, he began dealing with the school budget. 

That lasted until two boys were brought into the office by Miss Heathcott, both boys appearing very sullen.  She left them in the outer office then appeared at Mr. Barnes' door to explain the situation before returning to her classroom.  He couldn't help but watch her leave wondering why it made him feel like he was being left behind.  Putting that aside he dealt with the boys' dispute, listening to their versions of it as he sat in his chair, his hand on his jaw.  Their dispute was based on a game of marbles that resulted in one of the boys losing his boulder aggie, large agate marble for those who never played.  He told them a story of his boyhood friend who died of polio at the age of 10.  Steve and he played marbles all the time, regularly winning and losing against each other but never letting the heat of the game interfere with their friendship. 

"When he died his ma gave me his marbles, knowing that he would want me to have them.  She said I could give them to my sons, except I don't have any because I never got married.  You two remind me of us, except we never fought each other or called each other names, other than jerk or punk.  I miss him, every day of my life.  Marbles are just things, to be won and to be lost.  But friendship lasts a lifetime and beyond.  Don't let the marbles make you enemies.  Now, if you two can show me that you can get along and maybe become friends, I might be persuaded to give you a bag of marbles that have some dandies in them.  But you have to prove that you're worthy of them.  Can you boys do that for me?"

They both promised and Mr. Barnes walked the boys back to the classroom, making it clear he expected them to apologize to their classmates and Miss Northcott for interrupting the class.  With a nod to the woman teacher who smiled warmly at him in a way that he felt deep inside, he returned to his office and the matter of the budget for the rest of the day.  When classes were dismissed, Mr. Barnes usually insisted that all teachers make an appearance outside the school, both to make sure the students were dispersed and to be a visible presence for any parents who were there.  In his experience he found some parents, especially those from certain families were uncomfortable inside the school but found it easier to approach a teacher outside.  Today there were a few inquiries but nothing that wasn't handled quickly.  More than once he found his attention drawn to Miss Heathcott, her caramel-coloured hair shining in the winter sunlight and her cheeks pink from the brisk air.  Had she always been this beautiful?  The answer was yes but she seemed even more beautiful today.

Most of the teachers stayed for a time to prepare for the next day classes, but Mr. Barnes was always the last one of out the school, other than the custodians.  It was just the way he was.  Walking through the hallways to find out who was still present before he finally left, he was surprised to see Miss Northcott still in her classroom, considering she was in early that morning.  He watched her for several moments, unseen by her.  Intently focused on some papers on her desk, strands of her hair had worked their way over her face, and he wondered if it was as soft as it looked.  Knocking gently on her door frame, he stood in the doorway, as she looked up at him.  Her eyes were a little red.  Had she been crying?

"You're here late.  Is everything alright?"

Embarrassed, she looked away briefly.  "Mostly."  She gave a nervous laugh.  "I know that's not much of an answer.  I guess I'm a little concerned about you going to war.  It will be different here, without you."

He approached her desk, deciding to be bold for once in his life.

"Would you go out with me?" he asked.  "Dinner, or even just a walk on an afternoon this weekend?"

She looked up at him again, noticing how his distinctive blue eyes held their gaze on her.  She could get lost in those eyes.

"A walk sounds nice," she said.  "Here, or in the city?"

He smiled, his even white teeth adding to his handsome features.  "Central Park.  I can meet you at the subway or there at the park."

"At the park is fine," she said.  "Saturday, at 2 pm, at the boathouse ice rink?  Perhaps we can rent skates."

Envisioning the possibility of his arm around her waist as they skated in Central Park he agreed to her suggestion and the date was made.  As he waited for her to put her coat and galoshes on in the staff room before he left, he was filled with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.  For the remainder of the week, it was challenging to keep their mind on their work.  Both of them, alone and lonely, wondered if perhaps this could be the beginning of something wonderful.  It was difficult not to imagine a future together, even though they had no idea if they were compatible beyond a good work relationship.  For the first time in a long while, both individuals dared to dream of a future with someone at their side.

Then Saturday morning dawned, and Mr. Barnes looked out his window in dismay at the heavy snow that was falling.  Quickly turning on the radio he listened to the announcer describe a weather system that was supposed to go north to Canada, but instead came east to New York.  Temperatures were expected to plummet throughout the day.  It was suggested that the next few days of snowfall could shut the whole city down with the amount that was expected.  Sitting forlornly at his kitchen table, Mr. Barnes made the decision to cancel the date and pulled out his list of teacher names, addresses and telephone numbers.  As he picked out Lucy Heathcott's name in the list, he noted her address was within walking distance of his apartment.  As the phone rang, he suddenly thought of another way to see her.  It was quite improper to ask this of Miss Heathcott, but something told him that if he didn't take this chance, he might regret it for the rest of his life.  For too long he had followed the path of least resistance.  Now was the time for confidence.

"Carpe diem," he said out loud, just as the receiver on the end was picked up.

"Hello?" said a voice on the other end.  He recognized it as Miss Heathcott.  "Who is this?"

"James Barnes," he replied.  Bold, be bold.  "It seems that the weather will make our plans for Central Park unwise, but I wanted to suggest an alternative."

She was quiet for a moment.  "I'm listening."

"You don't live far from me," he said, "and I would be willing to come over and walk you back, but would you consider coming to my apartment?  We can have lunch, listen to music and talk."

He let out a shaky breath.  He had done it, had suggested something as an alternative to cancelling the date.  She was quiet again, then he heard it, an almost imperceptible whisper of carpe diem.  Was it possible that she also wished to throw caution to the wind and do something completely out of character?

"It's supposed to get worse during the day," she said, hesitantly.  "What if by the time I have to go home it is isn't possible?"

It wasn't an outright refusal, but he understood that her reputation was on the line.  She was an unmarried woman, in a position of responsibility.  If it wasn't possible for her to go home, then she would have to stay at his apartment which could reflect poorly on both of them.  He did have a second bedroom.  Why couldn't Miss Heathcott be his guest and stay in the other bedroom?  That wasn't improper, was it?

"You can stay," he answered.  "I have a second bedroom.  It was my mother's before she passed away.  You would be my guest."  He breathed out.  Carpe diem.  "It's just that I was so looking forward to spending time with you.  When I saw the snow, and heard the forecast, it made me feel that perhaps fate was conspiring against us.  Then I realized that life is a choice.  We either accept the limitations placed on us, or we strive to overcome them.  If you insist on returning to your rooming house before dark, I will make sure you get home safely."

He closed his eyes, praying that she would accept. 

"Meet me halfway," she said, after a long silence.  "I live in a rooming house and the landlady would be bothered by a man picking me up.  I'll bring some things to stay, just in case, but I don't promise anything."

An hour later Mr. Barnes met Miss Heathcott, both bundled up enough to cover their faces, but he recognized her scarf and approached her as the snow fell in large wet clumps.  Extending his hand, he took her small valise from her, then offered her his other arm for the walk back to his apartment.  It was the first time they had ever touched and her presence on his arm felt wonderful to him.  They didn't speak until they entered his building and stamped the snow off their feet.  In his apartment they removed their galoshes, and heavy overcoats, hanging them up in the closet by the door.  Both quickly ran their hands through their hair.  He took her valise, leading Miss Heathcott, Lucy, to the second bedroom, handing her luggage to her at the door.

"I'll leave you to get settled," he said.  "Would you like a coffee or would a tea interest you?"

"Tea would be nice," she answered.  "Milk, no sugar.  Thank you ... James."

Lucy came out to a tray set up on a table in the living room, with a teapot, two cups with saucers, and milk.  Taking a closer look at the living room space, she thought it felt very comfortable, with good quality furniture and decor.  Although it was not what she was expecting it showed her host in a positive light.  Noticing the full bookshelves and the record collection she smiled, somehow not surprised at what Mr. Barnes ... James, did to relax.  He came out of the kitchen, carrying a small plate of cookies, wearing a pair of brown trousers, a grey shirt, and a pullover sweater with an argyle pattern of brown and grey over it.  She must have made a noise because he looked at her, then at himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"I've never seen you wear anything other than your black suit and white shirt," she said.  "You look nice, like a different person."

"My first principal insisted on all the men teachers wearing the same suit," he answered.  "Said it was a mark of professionalism.  It just became a habit, I guess.  I usually wear something like this on the evenings and weekends.  In the summer I'm even more relaxed in appearance."  A compliment on his clothing should be returned.  "You look good, too.  I've never seen you in slacks."

"With the cold weather I thought it was prudent," she breathed.  "You live alone?"

He approached closer to where she stood.  "Yes.  My mother lived with me as my sisters are married with small children.  She became too ill to live at home and had to go into the hospital.  She passed away about three years ago.  My father died shortly after I graduated from college. I assumed responsibility for caring for my family."

"I'm sorry.  My folks are still alive but they're in Illinois.  I only get back to see them at Christmas and in the summer." 

They both stopped talking and stood there, unsure what to do next.  He gestured to an armchair for Lucy to sit in, while he sat on the couch.  Pouring her tea first, he handed her the cup and saucer, then poured some for himself.  They sipped from their cups quietly, letting the warmth of the liquid rejuvenate them.  Sitting back, Mr. Barnes crossed his legs at the knee.  Lucy stayed upright in the armchair, crossing her legs at the ankle and angling them to one side. 

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"10 years," he answered.  "After my sisters got married my mother's health took a turn and she was unable to be in a place with stairs.  This apartment had elevator access which was easier for her.  Taking care of her took up most of my spare time outside of the school and left no time for courting."  He sipped again.  "I don't want to give it up while I'm away so I'm looking for someone to sublet it while I am overseas."

"It's a very nice place," said Lucy.  "It feels comfortable."  I could be happy living here.  It's much nicer than the rooming house.

He suddenly leaned forward and picked up the plate of cookies offering it to her.  With a polite smile, she took one, placing it on her saucer. 

"You have an interesting assortment of books and records," she said, after she bit into her cookie.  "Have you read all of the books and listened to all of the music?"

"Yes, to both," he answered.  "I taught my sisters to dance with those records, and I've been an avid reader since I was a boy.  Do you read?"

"Yes.  I listened more to the radio for music than bought records.  Who's your favourite author?"

"I was first interested in the stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells, then I discovered The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien.  It was like being transported to another universe.  Did you know he invented several languages just for the world he created, a place he called Middle Earth?  He's a brilliant man."

"I'll have to read it."  She ate some more of her cookie.  "I'm more of a mystery fan, myself.  Agatha Christie is a favourite."

"She is a good writer."  He looked towards his bookshelf.  "I have the ones with Hercule Poirot in them.  He's a fascinating character."

Lucy beamed at James, glad to have found something in common with him.  They talked more about books, music, and movies, although both admitted they didn't go to the pictures too often.  She offered to help prepare lunch and they talked more in the kitchen about food.  They spent the afternoon listening to several radio shows, sharing the sofa.  As the day lengthened into the late afternoon, Lucy suddenly moved to the window looking out over the snowy landscape.  There were no vehicles about and only a few people were walking.  The wind had come up as well, as she could hear it whistle a little bit through the window.

"I should go home," said Lucy.  "If I wait until dark it will make it difficult to see where I'm going."

"Don't go."  James said quickly.  "I am having a wonderful time getting to know you better."

"What would people say if they knew I was here?  I could lose my job."

"But they don't know," he answered.  "Did your landlady notice you leaving with your valise?"

Lucy nodded then looked down.  "I lied and told her I was spending the night with a girlfriend whose husband had just left for England.  Said she was nervous about being alone during the snowfall."

Wringing her hands a little betrayed her distress at having to lie.  Gently, he placed one of his hands on hers, stilling her motions.  It was a little presumptuous, he knew, but he didn't want her to leave.  This had been a wonderful time for him.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.  "In the morning the snowplows will likely be out, and the footing will be easier to manage."  He looked out the window.  "By the time we got halfway you would have to walk the rest of the way alone in the dark and I couldn't ... I wouldn't leave you to do that.  The odds of your landlady seeing us would increase.  Please ... stay."

Her hands were so soft that he was unaware he was gently rubbing his thumb over the back of one of them.  She looked at it, then at him and swallowed.  Smiling, he released her hands and stepped back. 

"I'll stay but you promise to be a gentleman?"

"On my mother's memory," he replied.  "I would never force myself on you."

She took him at his word.  Even though it was cold and dark outside, inside, in his heart, he felt light and young again.  Together they prepared dinner, lighting candles on the table, and listening to orchestral music on the radio.  After washing up, they returned to the living room and sat quietly again in the stillness that seemed to amplify the beating of their hearts.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked.  "There is always nice music on the radio." 

"I'm not very good," she replied, blushing.  "I rarely get asked."

"That's alright.  Neither am I really.  All we have to do is sway and move our feet a little.  Please."

She nodded and he turned the radio on, tuning in a station with slow dance music.  Taking his hand, she tensed a little at how his other hand touched her back, bringing them closer together.  Tentatively, they began swaying to the music, and slowly relaxed into it.  He placed his head close to hers, close enough to smell her perfume and became brave enough to tell her something, when The Man I Love came on.

"Every time I hear this song, I imagine I'm in Paris," he murmured.  "I'm with a beautiful woman and we're outside a café.  The music wafts out onto the sidewalk and the only light is from the streetlamp above.  Even though there are others there, in our circle of light we feel like we're alone.  It's a warm summer night.  I'm wearing trousers and a dress shirt, no tie, and my sleeves are rolled up because of the heat, while my partner is wearing a pretty dress and heels."

She looked up at him, noticing how dark his eyes seemed.  Lucy's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure James could hear it, but he just kept looking at her.

"What happens next?" she asked. 

"Suddenly, we are alone, as everyone goes inside to refresh their drinks.  I brush my fingers along her cheek."  He stopped and brushed his fingers just above her jawline.  "Then I kiss her softly on the lips and draw her into my embrace."

Looking at his lips she opened hers slightly and he leaned over kissing her gently, pulling her into his arms, as she wrapped her arms around him.  It was every bit as nice as he imagined.  Her lips were so soft and pliable, and the touch of their tongues sent a sensation into his brain that made him want more.  How her body felt, melded with his as they held each other, reminded him of the first woman he fell in love with when he was in college. The memory of how they spent their first night together affected him physically in a way he thought was gone forever.  The song finished but neither of them heard the next song be introduced or begin as they kept the sweet connection going.  Slowly, he pulled away then caressed her face.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he said.  "Lucy, I know that we don't have long before I leave but would you allow me to see you until then?"

"To what end?" she asked.  "I've wanted to kiss you as well, but I want more than just spending time together."  She looked away, embarrassed a little.  "I felt how your body responded to me as we kissed. I know it's normal in a man, but I've never been in the position of feeling desire that way. I want more."

He gasped slightly.  What was she saying?  Carefully, he cleared his throat.

"You felt desire for me?"  She nodded.  That was unexpected.  He had accepted her caveat of being a gentleman when she agreed to stay.  "It's been a long time since I was with a lady.  College, actually.  I never expected you to ...."

She put her fingertips on his lips, and he kissed them, softening his gaze on her.  He couldn't deny that the thought of being with her in that way wasn't enticing to him, but this was new ground for him.  As a man, he wanted it but as a gentleman there was more to consider, especially for her. 

What if a child was conceived?  It would make him a cad if he was overseas and received a letter from her saying their tryst had produced a baby.  She would lose her job, be ostracized, and evicted from her rooming house, although she could live here.  He glanced around his apartment; she could live here.  What if she did so as his wife?  They had known each other for 12 years.  They weren't strangers.  He was a bachelor; she was a spinster; successful marriages had been built just on that.  With the war on, she could continue working as a married woman, if she wanted.  He looked at her upturned face, a small smile gracing it, and felt that warmth again.  Carpe diem.

"Would you marry me?" he asked.  "We could go to City Hall before it closes one day and get the licence and be married next weekend.  You could move in here, stay here while I'm away, be waiting for me when I get back.  If what we do tonight produces a child, you'll be taken care of.  If anything happens to me, all that I have will be yours."

Marry him?  Her mouth was suddenly dry, and no words were forthcoming from her lips.  A proposal certainly was unexpected.  She had crossed a boundary by coming here, then had crossed another by even suggesting they be together physically.  Now, he was offering a chance to make it right.  He was offering the protection of his name and his home by asking her to be his wife, regardless of what would come from this night.  Is that what she wanted?  Carpe diem.

"Yes."

Their kiss was brief but deep, intense, and full of anticipation. James, ever the gentleman, wanted to ensure Lucy felt safe with him. He wouldn’t be aggressive with her as it wasn’t his nature. They could begin with sharing a bed and go from there.

"Do you want to change into your nightclothes?" he asked.  "We can be in my bedroom or in yours.  Whatever you're more comfortable with."

"Yours," she said.  "I would like to change.  James, do you like me?"

He lowered his eyes and breathed out noticeably.  For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer her or would say that he didn't.

"I have loved you from afar for a long time. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you ... I could walk through my garden forever.  Alfred, Lord Tennyson said that, and I have known that I loved you ever since the first day I laid eyes on you.  When I return, we'll have a house with a garden full of flowers.  It won't make up for the years I was too afraid to say anything, but I will say it now.  I love you, Lucy.  Now and forever, you will be in my heart."

Nothing else mattered after those words were spoken.  The kiss they shared at this moment was more intense and passionate than she had ever imagined a kiss could be.  To be wanted so much by a man, and to want him in return was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  Right now, this was their world, and they would live by their decisions.

💞 💞

June 1945

The taxi driver wouldn't take the money that Captain Barnes offered to him when he pulled up in front of the Brooklyn apartment building.  He saw the medals on the officer's uniform, then noticed the folded up left sleeve of the man's jacket.  This was a war hero, a man who lost an arm for his country, a man who made it back alive.  Today, he rode free.  With a slight smile, Barnes got out of the taxi, reaching in for his duffle bag and grasping the strap with his right hand.  As he stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the brick building that he hadn't seen in two years he wondered if Lucy would forgive him for not telling her what happened.  Might as well get it over with.

The elevator ride was slow, but it gave him time to think about all that had happened since their quick marriage, and separation after he left.  It was only six weeks into basic training that Lucy wrote him about being pregnant.  She turned the second bedroom into a nursery, selling his mother's bedroom suite, on his insistence, to pay for the baby furniture they needed.  Her letters had been filled with love and longing for the day when they would be reunited. 

When he lost his arm, just days before Germany's surrender, he couldn't bring himself to tell her.  It was hard to admit that he felt less a man than he did before.  He wasn't sure he could return to being a school principal.  Would staff and students still respect him without his arm?  Then the day came when he got his orders to report to a hospital ship returning to New York.  His stump wound was healing well so he didn't need much medical care on the trip back.  An army doctor on board told him that as a veteran he could get an artificial arm fitted, admitting they weren't the most friendly looking things, using hooks to replace a lost hand, but gave him a card for a special foundation, funded by the billionaire Howard Stark.  He was developing a new type of prosthetic for amputees and wanted men willing to try his prototypes out.  It was worth exploring.

The elevator stopped and the door opened.  Grasping his duffle bag again, Barnes walked to the door of his apartment and placed the bag on the floor, then tentatively knocked on the door.  He could hear Lucy's footsteps approaching, his heart racing with an ominous sense of foreboding.  Then it opened, and there she was, looking up at him in surprise.  Her arms went around his neck, as she cried, calling his name out over and over again.  Wrapping his right arm around her, he buried his now clean-shaven face into her neck, taking in the smell of her perfume and the softness of her hair and skin.  Then their lips met, deliriously tasting and sensing that which they had both missed since they said goodbye.  Her hands went to his arms, and it was then she noticed, as she looked from where his left arm should have been to his face and back again.

"Your arm ... you lost it."  It was said as a statement of fact.  He nodded, prepared to explain.  "Oh, my darling, my love.  If that was the price to bring you back to me then that's how it is.  For you are back, aren't you?  You are still mine?  Still my James?"

"Now and forever," he answered, almost ready to cry in relief.  He took in all of her, her face, her hair, her lips, her hands that he brought to his own lips to kiss.  "I'm home and I'm never going to war again."

She caressed his face, then kissed him again, a sweet and gentle peck that was just as loving as the passionate one shared moments earlier.  Stepping back into the apartment as he picked up his bag, she waited for him to drop it off inside the door, then he took his cap off, placing it on a side table.  Leading him into the living room where a playpen held his son, James Barnes Jr., she dropped his hand.  The toddler raised his arms to Lucy, and she scooped him up.

"JJ, this is your daddy," she said.  "Daddy's home from the war.  Can you say hi and give him a kiss?"

The little boy's attention was taken by the medals on his father's uniform, reaching for them with his chubby hands.  Holding his right arm out, Bucky held him firmly on his hip, looking at the blue eyes, and Lucy's hair on this beautiful child, his child, conceived on a wintry night when a lonely man and woman, who thought life had passed them by, decided to seize the day and reach for happiness together.  His lips trembled and his eyes watered.  He had never been so happy, as he was right this moment.  What would the future bring?  Whatever they willed it.

One shots masterlist

[x-jackalnope-x]

The Awakening

Chapter 1 of No More Running, a Mouthwashing Retelling.

Synopsis:

Curly is the captain to the misfit crew of Tulpar. After a revelation dream, Curly decides he wants to start living a life where he doesn't have to run. Starting with on issue he's been running from the most, his best pal, Jimmy, and the man his best friend truly is. No More Running is a fan story about Curly taking his own responsibility to his crew of Tulpar.

Warnings:

SA, mentions of SA, pregnancy by SA, MDNI, heavy topics covered. Chapter Masterlist: No More Running

The ocean was a still gore that engulfed his ankles in its carnage. The ladders, an army of them, standing proud of mocking in their proud posture. What had held them so proud, Curly could not see or make out. The ocean of blood shrouded their origin, he knew now this was a dream, as it always was.

Climbing and climbing with no clear destination of where it ended. This had always been his life, captain of his failed ship… The Tulpar crew was made up of misfits, he had added someone he thought was his friend… Yet Jimmy was so quick to throw Curly under- running from them? What did he have to run from?

The cool gaze, peered at the ladder raising with no clear destination.

Running from them.

Curly dropped his head, the ocean of blood welcomed him at the bottom- can one run when you are never on solid ground? But now there were figures surrounding his ladder, his ladder he had worked hard on climbing all his life. The soulless eyes of his crew members pierced their captain. He had opened his mouth to speak to them, reassure them they could all climb their own ladder, before a bright screen silenced any attempt. He had remembered this sound, it was a warning screen, bright red that barely reflected on the crimson surface.

This was new, this had never happened before in his dream, a warning…

STOP RUNNING.

Curly felt a panic rush over him, this world was communicating to him, warning him. He looked down at the ghastly crew, three were there to meet his gaze… They looked different now. Dead corpses- their blood seeping from their demise.. Was this his doing? Where was Jimmy? Scanning the crimson, any sign of his friend-

The red light had become silhouetted, causing Curly to snap his head up. His eyes met the barrel of the gun kept in the emergency protection kit. Tracing to the finger on the trigger was Jimmy.

The warning sign had changed, in big letters Curly could make out:

TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

Jimmy’s words rang louder, echoed in the space around him,”IT’S US YOU ARE RUNNING FROM!” Curly gaze turned stern and focused, staring through Jimmy now. Daring him to pull the trigger, the click of the gun’s trigger pulled-

He had snapped himself up on his bunk, this was a new dream- he had looked over to the neighboring bunks. All men shared a room, leaving poor Anya on her own. Curly had noted that Jimmy’s bunk was empty- rustled and slept in sure. Still empty. It had hit him then, the comment Anya had brought up…

Why…weren’t there locks on living quarters?

He felt the way his heart sank, sank in the ocean he had awoken from. Staring blankly at the ruffled sheets of his co-captain’s bunk. His breathing became labored, snapping his gaze to the men sleeping, Swansea and Daisuke. The sound of the automatic door giving way, Jimmy standing in his boxers and shirt he wore under his uniform.

The way he had looked at him and changed, the appearance such as this made that pit deepen, all that pooled inside was guilt.

“Where were you?” he had asked Jimmy, by the way of greeting his co-captain. “Had to piss, if that’s okay with you?” he retorted in defense, a wire exposed and ready to harm those who dared touch it.

That’s what Jimmy was now, a liability, a problem waiting to happen. No, it did happen and is happening now.

This thought caused the captain to stand from his bunk, throwing on his standard issued Pony Express jumpsuit. Seeing the logo almost made him want to rip it back off.

Jimmy was nestling back into his sheets, watching as Curly moved in a fast, anxious fashion. Curly saw it then, the way he viewed their medic, anxious and fidgety.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said just above a whisper, planting his head on the pillow. Curly looked at him passively as he made his way to the door, seeing Daisuke stir at the sound. He couldn’t tell Jimmy he was going to see Anya, no, not directly.

“I have a headache, might as well do my job while I’m awake”, that had caused a soft chuckle in reply from Jimmy. Disregarding his captain, and Curly knew exactly what Jimmy thought with that chuckle…

‘When do you do your job when you’re awake?’

Curly stepped into the night lighting, the way the moon illuminated the shared space. He stood in the cool lighting, as if staring at clarity.

Jimmy had been right, he was running from them. Climbing his ranks with no clear end view, he had stood for nothing. His eyes lost in the scenery of the moon, a smile cracked on him when he saw it then. The pixel, the imperfection he had always looked over… Even when pointed out. How long had he overlooked? Could he ever undo the damage that had been caused by his willful ignorance.

He could blame Pony Express, what company would send one woman on a year long cargo ship with four men. This was passing blame, Curly knew this. He was her last line of defense, and it was here he chose to make a stand.

His face was cool, as the clouds and moon reflected on his features. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the neighboring door slide open, and the woman standing next to him. She didn’t disturb him, she took in his expression. Cool eyes that once reflected calm ocean waters now raged with unspoken fury. She had seen this in Jimmy, but never controlled rage- his was messy and spilled over.

Captain’s seemed contained and calculated- his smile broke across his face which caused concern.

“C-captain?” Anya said softly, “Are you alright?”

Her voice broke the thought, in fact it scared him to hear her so suddenly. His eyes widened seeing her stand so close to him.. How could she even feel close to anyone here?

“Anya.. What a relief. I was just about to go to medical.. Maybe you can help me find some pain relief.” His voice was a forced calm. Anya simply nodded, Curly saw the nerves that plagued her now. Wondering how she thought of him now.

‘God, Jimmy what have you done…” Curly dreaded this, that dread wanted him to run. As he walked behind Anya, offered her to go first into the small space that was her office and infirmary.

As he entered, his hand locked the door. Seeing Anya turn in a panic, her eyes wide with what he only imagined Jimmy had pavloved her into. He raised a hand, to soothe her, his feet planted on the steel that made their floor. This metal made hell, the hell he had piloted.

“Anya” Curly began, his voice was shaky and unsteady. Seeing how she watched him fumble, her eyes glued to the lock where his other hand had rested.

“Captain? What are yo-”

“I want you to start sleeping in medical, locked.” He removed his hand from the door, his eyes softened, holding himself together. Curly had slowly moved to the chair that rivaled where she usually sat. Sinking in it slowly, his hands ran the length of face.

“I want to talk about Jimmy, Anya.” His eyes watched as she followed orders. His mind raced back to the night he and her spent looking at the screen, seeing the bigger picture and not spending enough time to find the imperfection.

“I actually.. Was hoping to talk to you about the same thing…” Anya had confessed, after a moment of silence. Seeing her captain’s eyes snapping to meet her. Was he was waiting to hear the news- did he know?

Anya felt his gaze weigh on her, those waters pooled into her grounding her to this conversation. “I’m pregnant, I thought i was just getting si-”

“Is it Jimmy’s?” he asked calmly, but the muscle in his face tensed, his jaw tightened to hear the answer. When Jimmy had been a subject for discussion, Curly often slapped it away. Here he sat attentive, expecting what he already knew. She replied with a nod, a somber and defeated movement.

Curly saw the way she avoided his gaze, focusing on her hands that now laced together with unease. The tension between them was filled with uncertainty of what would be a resolution. Curly saw them plainly, run or stand. He could easily finish this job, and whatever happens here would be because of Jimmy… Jimmy would be a father.

He inhaled to ground himself, running meant allowing his own ignorance sway his judgement.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

“I just…found out.. I wanted to wait to tell you- I was going to tell you, Captain-” she fumbled, scared of the repercussions of the information she revealed.

“I’m turning the ship around now, Anya.” His voice spoke with conviction, as he stared into the dark gaze Anya possessed. She had looked at him confused, her eyes brows knit the more she considered it.

“We’re going to figure this out, together. Do you hear me?” His hand placed firmly over her nervous palms. This was the first time she had felt a comforting gesture. Comforting act of any kind done by anyone on the ship.

In her desperation for peace. Anya leaned into the idea that her voice carried finally to someone else. “I don’t feel safe with him on the ship…” she confided, her voice shaky as her hands took Curly’s, she felt her heart in her voice. The shake of fear of Jimmy finding out, he had taken so much from her, the thought of it ending now seemed impossible.Curly’s eyes were back, controlled and focused.

His other hand met hers, steadying them as they shook.

“Neither do I, Anya… you need to do something for me, okay?” he asked, his hand softly squeezing over hers.

“Don’t tell anyone we're on our way back home. Not until I say it, okay? You need to be brave just until I deal with Jimmy.” Slowly he rose, losing her hands and leaving them on the desk as she sat there. Looking up to him, worried of the outcomes she could not predict from the information given to her..

“I am so sorry, Anya…” Curly said,” I’m taking us home, we’ll figure out the rest from there okay?”

Anya sat in the confusion of this interaction. Her eyes Curly followed as he went to the door, his hand on the lock,”What are you doing, captain?” she asked bluntly, raising from her seat just to halt with his hand gesturing to her to stay.

“I’m changing our destination. While Jimmy is asleep, I’ll be right back here. I want you in here doors locked till I return, okay? We’ll go over on how to make you feel safe on Tulpar again.”

“I don’t think I ever felt safe on the Tulpar, Captain…”

Curly looked at her with defeat.

He had failed her, failed everyone on his ship by allowing Jimmy in. He should’ve asked him what he had gotten in trouble with back at home.

Jimmy was his responsibility.

“Keep the door locked.” He reminded her, finally unlocking the door and checking for clearance.

“I won’t tell anyone…” she promised Curly. The affirmation made him smile weakly to her,”We’re getting through this together, Anya. I promise.”

Curly left her then, walking to the cockpit. The chair he had sat in filled him with new ambition, taking it with a new responsibility.

He had sent a message back to the company, phrasing there had been strange activity on board that required immediate attention. That the Tulpar would be setting its new destination to home. Rescue might be needed.

Booting up the controls and making it official. Curly hadn’t relaxed until the screen had confirmed he was successful. That home would be reached, it would take approximately one hundred and forty-five days till home… Which might make Anya’s window smaller. The idea of that caused Curly to inhale deeply, how could he tell her? What were their options for her situation?

“I thought it was weird you’d be workin’ this late at night, knowing you” a voice filled the silence of the cockpit, sending Curly into a panic.

[etherealspacejelly]

ok so i just watched star trek the motion picture for the third time and this time it was the directors cut with the extra scenes, and i have some Thoughts™️that may or may not be entirely coherant but i need to share them

here is my in depth literary analysis of why star trek the motion picture is the greatest queer love story ever written (/hj). buckle up because this is gonna be a long one

so our story starts (after the klingon cold open ofc) with spock on vulcan, during the final ceremony in which he is supposed to acheive kohlinar, the purging of all emotion. now, right off the bat, i want to make a comparison to conversion therapy/being closeted/repressed here. spock is trying to repress an entire side to himself, a part of him that is inherantly different to those around him, in order to be accepted in society. spock is already a very queer coded character, and i think reading this scene through that lens is a valid interpretation, especially considering everything else that happens in this movie.

the ceremony stops before its completion. because spock has Not purged all of his emotions. a consciousness calls to him from the sky. now, i think this line could be interpreted one of two ways. either this 'consciousness' is v'ger, or its jim. i think the writers intended it to be v'ger, but in the context of the scene it sounds a lot more like jim. of course jim would be the one preventing spock from purging his emotions: jim is the reason for many of spocks emotional slip-ups throughout the series. he fears for jims life when he is in danger, he feels friendship for jim but also shame about those feelings (that shame is also queercoded, but thats not the point of this post so i wont get into it here). he feels compassion for jim. he feels loyalty and a sense of duty to him. these feelings are so strong that he cannot purge them fully.

so what does spock do? he off goes in search of something that he feels will help him achieve his goal. he wants peace within himself, to find a balance between his two opposing mindsets, that of logic and that of emotion. purging all emotion was unsuccessful, so what else can he do?

he feels that v'ger is a being of pure logic, and wants to understand it, in hopes of achieving that for himself. in the process he meets up with jim again. now, you would think, that a vulcan nearing kohlinar who has been training for years to purge all of his emotions and act purely logically would not stop to change clothes and cut his hair when on his way to acheive LITERALLY HIS LIFE GOAL that is super important to him. and yet. when spock turns up on the enterprise hes wearing his nicest black robes and has his classic bangs back. why is that mr spock?? why would you take the time to do that?? especially when he then immediately changes into his uniform.

and while we're on the topic of clothes, what does jim do immediately after spock boards the enterprise? thats right folks, he changes into a shirt that shows off his arms and has a v-neck to show off his chest. any. particular reason for that jim? when you said just a moment ago that every minute counts and the earth is in danger? hmm. interesting.

and then of course we get that exchange between jim, spock, and bones. where jim 'needs' spock. just like he needed bones. theres a desparation in his eyes, he wants HIS spock back, and hes not seeing that spock in front of him. the conversation ends with jim looking dejected, since spock only seems to be there out of convenience and not because he Wants to be. wonder why that is...

of course then spock mind melds with v'ger. and to do so he has to. go through a very sphincter-like opening. and says he has 'penetrated' the next chamber. now im just saying. if anything is a metaphor for gay sex, this has to be, right?

anyway.

spock mind melds with v'ger and is flung back into jims arms. because of course he is. and what did he learn from the whole experience? that v'ger is pure logic, and therefore cannot experience beauty, imagination, and "this simple feeling". wait. hang on. what simple feeling would that be, spock? the one you're talking about while holding jim's hand (HANDS?? VULCAN HOLDING HANDS?? HELLO???) and staring into each others eyes? what feeling would that be, i wonder?

and then. SPOCK CRIES. for v'ger. he 'weeps for v'ger as he would for a brother". v'ger is 'empty', as spock was when he came aboard. "incomplete, and searching. logic and knowledge are not enough," he says. bones asks if spock has found what he needed, and v'ger hasnt. spock says that v'ger wants to know what it was meant to be, to reach out and touch its creator.

spock is crying because he empathises with v'ger. v'gers journey parallels his own. they were both empty beings of pure logic. spock found his fulfilment in... what exactly? its not explicitly clear. but if we continue the spock/v'ger parallel to its conclusion, what do we find?

v'ger has taken ilia's form, and decker decides to merge with v'ger not only to save earth, but also to reunite with the woman he loves. v'ger becomes satisfied only when this happens. so... spock found his fulfilment by reuniting with someone he loves? if we take this in context with the 'this simple feeling' scene, the queer subtext is right there.

at the end of the movie, spock is offered to return to vulcan, and he refuses, stating that his business there is finished. he has achieved his goal of finding peace within himself. not by purging all emotion, but by embracing emotion, alongside logic, and allowing himself to feel what he has repressed his entire life. he resumes his place at jims side, which, as edith keeler stated, is where he belongs.

this movie is a queer story, and i will die on this hill. all of the evidence together stacks up that way. it is a story of repression, self acceptance, and love.

ALSO THE POSTER IS A RAINBOW-

[racoonpookiedepartment]

My “Kinktober” day 3

Chris’s Accident (hands + uniform)

Chris Redfield was a soldier working for the BSAA, while he was an extremely strong soldier, he was also very angry almost all the time.

it was easy for him to quickly get frustrated, you were his assigned (Male) nurse and you saw him in every emotion there was

You've seen him when he was upset, when he was angry, when he was sad, when he was confused and mostly when he was in heat, you'd always know because of the puppy eyes he'd give you at certain positions

Besides that he would always make sly flirty comments about how he loved seeing you in your uniform and whenever you had to be handsy, he always complimented your hands. He would go on and on about how soft they were and how much he liked when you touched him.

Chris was very simple, for almost any problem he had, he would vent to you about things that upset him and even when he was angry. It was just being close friends with him. but to him it meant much more, you didn't realize it until you started to see how he was reacting recently.

he started to come in for the smallest of injuries, even coming just for "check up" you got the feeling that he did it on purpose because he knew you'd have to touch him all over to find his “injury”

he came in again for a small injury and you knew you were about to get a wild story from how he walked in, his face was already red with anger. He came into the room and closed the door behind him. You listened to him rant and you patch up some scrape he got, and after he was done you asked if he had anything else that needed to be checked. He had a bad fall and wanted you to check his thigh for a bruise.

as he stood up and you kneeled to unbuckled his pants, you glanced upwards and Chris looked away with red cheeks. you pulled down his pants and even as he was soft there was a large bulge in his boxers, you had to stay professional so you didn't comment on it

"ok this might sting" you warn, you gently rub up and down his left leg, he had no reaction. you switch over to the right side and he grunts when your hand passes over his right thigh

"fuck, be gentle would you?" he suggested,

"i did tell you it might sting" you reply, you grab some solution and take some of it into your hand

"this will be cold, but you'll feel better ok?" you warn, chris nods

"Just go slow ok?" he asks, you nod in agreement and slowly rub the sore spot on his thigh, you expected him to curse and maybe even grip onto something but, he reacted much differently. he grunted, but not the pain kind, the gratifying kind

"dont stop.. fuck" he muttered under his breath

"Feeling better already?" you ask sarcastically

"much...better" he replied breathily, you couldn't not notice but he was getting hard, you were inches away from his crotch afterall. he looked down when he noticed that you noticed his boner, he quickly put his hands over it and turned out of embarrassment

"s- sorry, i didn't mean to do that" he muttered

"its fine, not the first time that's happened" you reassured, he turned back when you said that though

"Wait really? who?" he asked, you didn't expect him to get possesive about that

"well, half the people that come through here" you reply, chris turned back around

"so.. you don't mind?" he asks

"not at all" you state, you realized you were still on your knees and changed your position

"can i ask you something then?" he questioned

"Sure, what is it?" you reply, you got seated in your chair and chris on the examining bed. a few seconds passed before he spoke again, he twiddled his fingers and took a breathe before asking

"am i.. am i the biggest?" he asked, the question caught you off guard you even choked on your drink

"I'm sorry, the biggest what?" you asked

"am i the biggest bulge you've seen?" he asked, you were thinking of how to professionally answer the question without losing your job

"Well, i can't accurately comment on your.. size, since it's only a bulge" you reply

"want to see it accurately then?" he asked with a smirk, unfortunately while on the clock you have to decline.

"i.. How about we finish helping your thigh, we can continue this conversation another time" you state firmly, Chris sighs in disappointment and stands back up. you go back to rubbing the cold solution on his thigh and him grunting at the feeling, this time you notice a wet spot growing at the height of the bulge and chris was shuddering slightly, you stopped rubbing on the solution and just looked up at chris, his eyes were wide shut like he was concentrating.

"Chris?" you called, you were thinking off a few reasons why he was shuddering and none of them were good.

"Hey.. why'd you stop?" he asked when he opened his eyes to see yours peering back his bulge jumped.

"Chris i can't continue the procedure like this- your sentence was cut off by him pleading

"no no, please don't stop, please" he begged

"i.. okay" you didn't have much to say, so you do as Chris asked and keep rubbing his thigh.

Chris's groaning got harsh and the wet spot only got worse, there was a rule that you were allowed to "take care" of a patient if their erection was in their way, so you did just that.

Chris threw his head back immediately when he felt your cold hands wrap around his thickness

"Fuck.. fu- ng FUCK" he groaned as he painted your face, you didnt expect him to shoot that hard from just rubbing his thigh.

"Sorry I didn't mean to… Cum on you like that" he apologized, you couldn't really respond with how his fluids were all over your face but you waved it off. You did open your mouth to speak but some of the fluids dropping into your mouth stopped from speaking

Chris took notice and smirked. He was getting softer but he was still dripping, you found yourself licking at every drop that would slip down to your lips and you couldn't stop

“Taste good?” chris asked with a smirk, you reluctantly nodded

“Open wide, you get the last drop” he stated, you opened up your mouth and Chris squeezed the last drop of cum out of his cock and it dripped onto your tongue. After you swallowed Chris smirked again

“We should do this more often” he offered