#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!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[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—

[strwbrychffncake]

"ive got my love to keep me warm,, 1.7k words synopsis: cozy mornings with xavier contains: afab!reader (cleavage is mentioned once ,he squeezes ur boob lol) ,fluffy to slight nsfw?? (veeery suggestive but nothing explicit) ,teasing ,kissing ,playful xav ,sleepy xavier (when isnt he) ,he calls you 'miss hunter' teasingly ,playful banter at the end ,reader is wearing a cami + panties (im projecting) ,i think thats it *gulps* note: this is my first lads fic (yay?) here's my peace offering while i try to unravel all of my other ideas into comprehensible stories.. i hope i did him justice for the xavier kissers here :x

-

peaceful.

thats how you would describe these mornings in a single word.

when the sun has yet to fully ascend beyond the horizon, its warm light slowly reaching down to the ground below, slowly enveloping every building— a gentle wake up call— its effort is futile to chase away the thick blanket of snow that's encased every inch of the city.

the world was silent, peaceful, taking its time to slowly wake from its slumber before the usual bustle of the day would settle in.

but today was different for you.

today was your day off.

something you were ever so grateful for as you cracked your eyes open, quickly being reminded that you didn't need to roll out of the warm confines of your bed, reach for your uniform in a haste, and decide what the quickest breakfast option would be this time while brushing your teeth—

but instead, you close your eyes once more, basking in the quiet calm of the morning, sinking further into the comfort of your soft mattress and warm comforter.

"..."

a shifting movement causes you to peek an eye open again.

you look down, met with the face of none other than xavier, still sound asleep, arms wound around your waist and head pressed against your chest.

you grin, bringing your hands up from under the covers, brushing up his back before trailing over the nape of his neck before landing on the top of his head, fingers tangling in his soft locks.

at your ministrations, he nuzzles deeper into your chest (his favorite pillow), a look of satisfaction spreading across his lips in his sleep.

you can only smile at the sight, admiring him.

xavier was beautiful; this was a well-known fact and something that you couldn't help but to think the first time you laid eyes on him back then.

even in his sleep, his beauty only multiplied. his breathing calm and even, cheeks soft (right one cutely squished from being pressed into your chest), his pretty long lashes stemming from his unmoving eyelids, his slightly-chapped pink lips....

you move your right hand from his hair down to his face, tracing the outline of his eyelids, his cheekbones, the curve of his nose—

he scrunches it at your touch, causing you to pause, but he still doesn't wake.

you cant help but to admire his serene expression. even if he always appeared calm and put together, there were moments where his worry, anxiety, or irritation bled through (namely on more difficult missions together— though, whether you realize it or not, in these moments he's always concerned over your safety and being able to help you out, should you need it) so seeing him like this was an especially pleasant sight to you.

you trail your index finger down, tracing his upper lip back and forth. when you go to trace vertically from his cupids bow to his inner bottom lip, your finger is met with a kiss, making you freeze.

"is my face that strange, miss hunter?"

he peeks at you with one eye from his spot as you snatch your finger back, startled by his cute, sleepy (yet equally attractive) mumble, not realizing he had woken up, having been too lost in your thoughts.

he only laughs softly at this, both eyes open yet half-lidded as he reaches a hand out from under the covers to grab your hand and drag it back towards his lips, planting a kiss onto your knuckles.

"is this a new mandatory inspection?" he grins sleepily at you as he drags your hand closer, placing his left cheek into your palm. "please, take as long as you need," he says, nuzzling into your warmth.

beginning to feel the edges of guilt creep up on you, you try to explain yourself.

"i didn't mean to wake you—"

"hmm?" he hums, closing his eyes.

you stare for a moment before letting out a laugh.

does he not mind after all?

"go back to sleep, xavier," you urge, still rubbing his head with your free hand.

"what 'bout you?"

he releases your hand, eyes still shut as he lowers his right cheek back down, curling his left arm back around your waist, head plush against your chest once more.

"im still a little sleepy myself," you yawn.

"didn't seem that way to me," he mumbles.

you huff out a breath. xavier giggles.

a comfortable silence envelops you both until you decide to speak up again.

"your face isn't strange."

"hm?" he was still awake.

"your question. your face isn't strange.. its the opposite, actually. seeing such a peaceful expression on your face is always... a relief," you admit sheepishly.

xavier cracks an eye open at that.

feeling his stare, you push a hand towards his face to cover his eye and turn your head away, bashful under his gaze.

"stop that.."

he responds by grabbing your hand, easily moving it down from his eyes, and kissing the inside of your palm down to your wrist, making eye contact with you all the while.

"xavier..."

something about the way you show your care for him, your embarrassed expression as you try to hide from his gaze (along with the way a strap of your cami slides down your arm, revealing more of your pretty skin) seems to wake him up and make something snap within him all at once.

"on second thought..."

you don't have time to process his next move.

one second, he was nestled comfortably against you, and the next, he was hovering over you, the hand he was kissing now pinned down above your head on the mattress below.

"i'm not sure i feel so tired anymore..."

your breath hitches, surprised eyes locked with his as he stares down at you.

your pretty, surprised eyes stare up at him, your breathing picking up at the growing tension as his eyes drag over you, from your messy bedhead, your silk cami— wrinkled and showing just enough of your cleavage now— riding up at the bottom to reveal your soft belly peeking out from beneath it, your pretty panties, lace embellishing the edges, hugging your hips so nicely, the beginning of your plush thighs pressed together...

he thinks you look so pretty like this.

"xa—"

"beautiful."

you don't get to respond as he swallows up any words you had within the next second.

the kiss is needy, his tongue quickly overtaking yours and slipping between your lips, breathing you in, taking everything you're willing to give him.

he loves how willing you are to give yourself to him.

always.

when you separate, you're both gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting your now spit-shined lips together.

he frowns down at you suddenly, still catching his breath.

"xavier?" you whisper, puzzled at his sudden change in expression.

you reach out for him with your left hand but before you can reach him, he catches it with his free one, pinning it down over your right hand, adjusting his grip so both your wrists are restrained with his left hand, leaving you helpless while his right begins to trail down your body.

"you woke me up..."

his eyes are darker as his fingers drag slowly down your neck, your collarbones, your shoulder.

did i upset him?

"i said i didn't- oh"

your breath catches in your throat as he squeezes your breast suddenly.

"its only fair you take responsibility,"

he trails lower, touch light over the skin of your stomach before trailing over your panties stretched across your hips (oh, how he loved that you didn't sleep in any pants, even when the weather was as cold as it was), fingers dancing around between your inner thighs.

"right, miss hunter?"

. . .

winter mornings with xavier were something you started to anticipate ever since getting your first taste of one.

at night, you never had to fear going to sleep shivering under layers of blankets, and oftentimes you'd wake up so warm and cozy (thanks to your human-cat like blanket) that you never wanted to get up.

other times, even when a chill permeated through the room, xavier would always take matters into his own hands and warm you up using his own methods, conventional or not.

winter mornings with xavier were peaceful, cozy, warm, and always something to look forward to.

and as small, pretty snowflakes began to float down and meet with the city below, all the world was none the wiser to the sounds of your lovemaking.

more snowflakes began their descent, a light frost enveloping the windows, the blanket of snow concealing the messy kisses, sinful moans, gasping breaths, the way he bent your body to his will, the slapping of skin and the confessions of love amongst everything else.

and by the time most were out and about, running errands or on their way to their respective jobs, you were already spent and shaking, cuddling up to xavier, still nude and stealing each others body heat, marks running along your necks and chests as you slipped into the comfortable embrace of slumber once more.

-

"are you cold?"

you look up at him.

"why do you ask?"

"you're shaking"

you stare at him, unimpressed.

"well, maybe if someone wasn't so needy, my body wouldn't be reacting like this."

he laughs in response, pulling you closer before planting a kiss on your head.

"sorry," he muses, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "you just look too good in the morning, can you really blame me?"

you sigh, cuddling closer to him.

"i don't think i'll be able to walk for the rest of the day."

"it's a good thing i didn't feel like going out anyway," he lets out a contented sigh as he hugs you close.

yes, winter mornings with xavier were definitely something to look forward to.

. . .

extra:

"so... you're not cold?"

you don't answer.

"because i can always warm you up—"

you can't fight the urge and hit him with a pillow. he laughs.

"actually, i think i have something to do," you tease, rolling away from him, almost reaching the edge of the bed before he latches onto your waist.

you yelp as he pulls you back against his chest.

"hey!"

"you may not be cold, but i am. stay here and warm me up for now." he shuts his eyes, getting comfortable with you.

you sigh, nuzzling into him.

"i'll have to get up to cook later, and you're going to have to move me."

"we can order takeout."

"xavier that's..."

"sleep," he murmurs, holding you close.

you can only surrender, sinking into the warmth from your beloved.

-

authors note: yes i wrote xavier as a freak in the morning i think it suits him.. was so tempted to turn this into an actual smut but my only experience is reading 'x reader' smut w fictional characters sigh. maybe ill try writing christmas sex or something but hopefully this will do for now.... dunno if its noted but the title is inspired by laufey's winter ep + other inspos w the other lads li's are on the way ,please look forward to it :x > editing one last time after drinking if there's any typos idk what ill do....

[nrhshm]

EKRKRK I LOVE YOUR WRITTING I was wondering if I could request an easily fatigued reader with smoker, mihawk and Shanks? Like they come got soaking wet and shivering from having to walk home in a storm and readers REALLY shy so they're like "no its fine I'm fine!" But then kinda get teary because they don't want to be a bother (sorry if that sounds weird but it's just something I would probably do😭) and just how they'd react? TYSM LOVE YOU‼️‼️

I tried to expand on three different reader personalities in each oneshot. So their reaction to each situation differs. Let me know what you think of it, anon!👋

And Shanks! Oh I went a different way with Shank's story🫡 but it was too good to change...

Smoker, Mihawk and Shanks with an easily fatigued/frail reader

who hates being a burden

---

. Sfw

. Mentions of kidnapping on Shank's part.

. Spoiler free

. Reader is g/n (female in Shanks's part)

---

Smoker

The storm outside was unrelenting, a cacophony of rain and wind battering against the tall office windows. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Smoker sat at his desk, the air thick with the faint smell of his cigars.

Tick… tock…

His eyes drifted again to the clock on the wall, the hands creeping forward with a maddening slowness. It was 10:15, and you were late. Not just by a little. The patrol shift had ended at 9:30.

For any other soldier, it would have been a reprimand, a quick note in their file. But for some reason, the idea of something happening to you had twisted his gut into knots he’d rather not admit to anyone—especially himself.

He exhaled a stream of smoke, the ember on his cigar flaring briefly.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than to the empty room.

The storm wasn’t normal—not tonight. He’d seen sailors, seasoned and unshakable, hesitate at the thought of venturing into it. And yet, you were out there, alone.

Tick… tock…

The clock seemed to mock him, its endless rhythm a reminder of his helpless waiting. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, he stood, grabbing his coat. Enough was enough. He wasn’t going to sit here while the storm kept raging and the worst possibilities gnawed at his mind.

Just as he reached the door, it slammed open with a gust of wind and rain.

“Commander Smoker!” Your voice cut through the storm’s roar, sharp with urgency. You stepped in, water pooling at your feet as you stood at attention. “Apologies for the delay, sir! I—”

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was sharp, though the edge softened almost immediately. His eyes swept over you, taking in the sodden uniform plastered to your skin, the way your hair stuck to your face, and the faint tremble in your shoulders. The reprimand he’d been planning caught in his throat. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, standing stiffly despite the rain dripping down your face. “The patrol was delayed because of the weather, and I lost track of time. I apologize for being late, sir. If I may, I’ll begin my report—”

“Forget the damn report!” His sudden outburst made you blink, startled. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone, and all you care about is procedure?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, sir,” you said, voice small but resolute. “It’s my responsibility to—”

“Enough.” His tone left no room for argument. Before you could react, he shrugged off his jacket and stepped forward, draping it over your shoulders. The fabric was warm, heavy with the faint scent of smoke and leather.

“Commander, I don’t—”

“Stop arguing,” he said firmly, towering over you. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to have one of my soldiers collapse because they’re too stubborn to take care of themselves.”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness in his voice. For a moment, you forgot how to speak, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your chest.

“I—thank you,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rest briefly on your shoulder, warm and steady. “You need to stop trying to do everything on your own. I’m your commander. You can rely on me.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor, your hands clutching the edges of the jacket tightly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Idiot,” he muttered, though there was no heat in the word. His hand lingered a moment longer before he stepped back, giving you room to breathe. “You’re not a burden. Stop thinking like that.”

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, but you forced yourself to stand a little straighter. “Yes, sir.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he seemed to confirm for himself that you were truly okay. Then he turned toward the door, grabbing his hat.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “I’ll walk you home.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded quickly, following him into the storm. His presence beside you felt steady and grounding, his coat a shield against the chill.

If Smoker’s feelings lingered unspoken in the air between you, you didn’t notice. And if his hand hovered just a little closer to your back, ready to steady you against the wind, neither of you said a word.

Mihawk

The night was eerily quiet, the humandrills’ growls and the clang of steel against steel the only sounds cutting through the stillness. You moved as swiftly as your aching body allowed, haki crackling faintly in your strikes. Each movement grew heavier, your limbs protesting every swing. The creatures encircled you, their primal strength and cunning pushing you further to the edge.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your vision blurring, but you couldn’t stop—not now, not after today. Not when you had something to prove.

Then, in a moment too fast to process, one of them lunged. Its weapon glinted under the moonlight, and your sluggish body betrayed you. You braced for the impact.

A flash of black steel tore through the air, and the humandrill was gone, its companions scattering in panic. Yoru, the unmistakable black blade, stood lodged in the ground before you, humming faintly with power.

Your heart skipped. And then, he stepped into view.

Mihawk’s golden eyes pinned you where you stood—or tried to. Your legs gave out, and the ground rushed to meet you, but his hand shot out, steady and strong. His grip was firm as he caught you, holding you upright like you weighed nothing.

“You’ve lost your mind.” His tone was cold, sharp, and laced with irritation. His gaze swept over you, taking in the bruises, the blood, the shaking in your limbs. “What exactly were you thinking?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered stubbornly, trying to stand straight.

He raised a brow, his voice dropping into a dangerous calm. “Fine? You’re about to collapse.”

“I just wanted to—”

“To what?” he cut in, his voice harder now. “Get yourself killed? Or is this another one of your attempts to outrun Zoro?”

The mention of your rival made you stiffen, your jaw clenching. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, though the words lacked conviction.

“And yet here I am,” he replied coolly, his eyes narrowing.

The heat of your embarrassment flared, but before you could argue further, your body betrayed you again. You stumbled, and his grip tightened, keeping you from hitting the ground.

“Enough of this nonsense.” His voice held no room for argument, his usual measured calm tinged with something firmer.

Before you could protest, he shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The motion startled you, your words catching in your throat as you stared up at him.

“What are you—?”

“Carrying you back,” he interrupted bluntly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t entertaining any more arguments.

You could only blink, too exhausted to resist. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly as they flickered over your face. “You push yourself too far,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Strength without control is meaningless.”

You stayed silent, your pride too wounded to admit he was right.

As he carried you through the quiet forest, the weight of his presence felt grounding. You glanced at his face, searching for any sign of mockery, but found none. Just calm, focused intent.

When he reached the castle, Mihawk set you down carefully on a bench near the fire. His golden eyes met yours, steady and unyielding.

“You’ll never surpass anyone if you��re too broken to fight,” he said. His tone was flat, but there was something beneath it—a flicker of something softer. Concern, maybe.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he shook his head. “Rest. That’s an order.”

As he turned to leave, his words lingered, low and almost under his breath. “Don’t make me save you again.”

And then, like a shadow, he was gone.

Shanks

You had grown up surrounded by elegance, refinement, and rules. As the eldest daughter of the Alabasta royal family, your every move had been dictated by tradition. You were taught diplomacy, grace, and poise, but not how to wield a sword or navigate the rough-and-tumble life of a pirate crew. When your father announced your arranged marriage to the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, the Yonko, it had felt like a betrayal—a sacrifice made to secure an alliance between your kingdom and the pirate world.

And yet, you agreed. For your family. For your kingdom.

Weeks later, you found yourself aboard the Red Force, surrounded by rowdy, boisterous pirates whose laughter echoed into the sea. Shanks, your husband, was everything you hadn’t expected. Carefree, loud, and full of life, he was the polar opposite of the strict, composed men you had known.

He’d tease you gently, his easy grin always present, saying, “You’ve got to loosen up, princess. Life’s too short to keep your shoulders so stiff.”

But you couldn’t. The world he lived in was too foreign. You didn’t belong here. And worse, you felt like an outsider—a burden among warriors who risked their lives at every turn.

The breaking point came during a crew meeting. You’d overheard the others discussing their plans for the next mission: docking on a notoriously dangerous island to retrieve a devil fruit.

“She’ll slow us down,” one of the crew muttered, not unkindly but with a tone of concern.

“She’s not trained to fight,” another added.

“Beckman will stay with her,” Shanks said, his tone casual but decisive. “He’ll make sure she’s safe.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew Shanks meant well, but to assign his right-hand man to babysit you on such a critical mission? It was a slap to your pride. You weren’t some helpless child. You were the wife of a Yonko.

That night, as the crew prepared for the next day, you made your decision.

---

The dawn was still pale as you slipped away, knife concealed beneath your dress. The ship was quiet, the crew unaware as you stepped onto the dock and into the bustling village.

The plan was simple. You’d explore the island, avoid trouble, and return before anyone noticed. It wasn’t reckless—it was proof that you could handle yourself.

The market was lively, filled with colorful stalls and chattering villagers. For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of independence. But as you wandered deeper into the streets, the vibrant atmosphere gave way to shadowy alleys and silence.

That’s when they approached.

At first, it was just one man, smiling too broadly. Then another. And another. Their words were slick, their laughter dark. Your heart pounded as they surrounded you, their intentions crystal clear.

“Such a delicate thing,” one said, brushing a hand against your arm. “What’s a lady like you doing here alone?”

You tried to pull away, but their grip tightened. A cloth was forced over your mouth, muffling your cries.

---

The air shifted.

It was subtle at first—a faint pressure that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. Then it hit like a tidal wave, an overwhelming presence that crushed the very air around you.

The men froze, their smug expressions dissolving into sheer terror.

At the mouth of the alley stood Shanks.

Gone was the carefree man who laughed too loudly and drank too much. His usual easy smile was replaced by a look so dark, so furious, it made your blood run cold. His eyes burned with unrelenting rage as they locked onto the man who dared touch you.

“You dare take my woman?” His voice was low, a growl that seemed to echo through the alley.

The thug didn’t have time to react. In a single, fluid motion, Shanks swung his sword, and the man’s hand hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The others tried to flee, but they didn’t stand a chance. Shanks didn’t even need to use his sword again—the sheer force of his haki dropped them one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

When the last threat was dealt with, Shanks turned to you. The fury in his eyes melted instantly, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

He was at your side in an instant, cutting away the ropes that bound you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice trembling just slightly. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, though tears streamed down your cheeks. Before you could speak, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to shield you from the world itself.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, his voice breaking. “When I realized you were gone, I—” He stopped, his breath shuddering. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. “What about the mission?” you whispered, guilt weighing heavily on your chest.

“The mission?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowing. “You think I care about the mission right now?” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I told the crew to wait. Your safety comes first. Always.”

You broke down, the weight of your fear and guilt crashing over you. “I just… I didn’t want to be a burden,” you sobbed. “I wanted to prove I could handle myself.”

Shanks shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “You’re my wife. If worrying about you is what it takes, I’ll gladly do it.”

His words unraveled the knot in your chest, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into him fully.

After a moment, you looked up at him, your voice shaky but resolute. “Teach me how to fight.”

Shanks blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, a grin broke across his face, his usual teasing demeanor returning. “Fight, huh? Guess I’ll have to, or you’ll keep sneaking off on your own.”

You smacked his arm lightly, pouting. “I’m serious!”

“And I’m serious about carrying you back to the ship.” He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. “Besides, you’re cute when you pout.”

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but smile. Resting your head against his shoulder, you let out a small sigh of relief.

As Shanks carried you back toward the harbor, his laugh echoed through the air, a sound that made you feel, for the first time, like you truly belonged.

[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! ♥

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Masterlist

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

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 3: misunderstandings. for rainbows to form, you always need the rain first.

❄ a/n: told you it was going to be fast! my, my... what is going on with this story?! why is everything getting more and more complicated?! well, for rainbows to form, you always need the rain first... right? ❄ tw: not much, VERY angsty for now. A little TOO indulgent? maybe... I always wanted reader to get involved with Ryuken, yet not in the way you might think... or yes? mh!. fainting. bloody knees. headache. ❄ headcanon alert 1➡ given the fact that we've seen Uryu fainting and running fevers many times, I headcanon him to be a guy who somatises a lot. So I think it fits since he is fighting against his own emotions during the story. ❄ headcanon alert 2 ➡ since we know Ryuken has 0 skills to communicate the love for his child, there are some little additions about him when Uryu was a kid that might melt your heart 💖 ❄ masterlist.

“Dr. Ishida, I’m sorry I don’t want to take time from you… it’s late, I – I should go back home, I can walk” you sniffle once he stops at a red light. 

Ryuken looks at you, probably confirming you are just as silly as his son. “You think I’ll leave you outside, with the snow, at night, after my son broke your heart and with your knees bleeding?” he asks, seriously, implying you aren’t allowed to decide what to do either way.

You simply nod; once in a while, you might want to let the elder take care of you. However, the fact that he isn’t driving to your home nor back to the hospital makes you wonder, exactly, what he is planning to do.

“Uh… Dr. Ishida, where are we going?” you ask, probably already knowing.

“Home” he answers back, straight to the point. 

“But – your son…” you reply, worried. Uryu just rejected you in such way, the least you would like to do is to go bother him at his own house. 

“My son? He isn’t coming back now, that’s a fact”

The Ishida house -manor- awaits with tiny little lights garnishing its windows. You remember the place to be darker and less lively, imbued in seriousness and sterile looks. Probably, Ryuken felt the need to decorate his home now that Uryu is back and that melts your heart. 

The huge fence at the front opens to let Dr. Ishida drive inside. You remain silent, the crying hasn’t stopped just yet, but you calmed yourself enough to keep your composure. 

A woman dressed in black and white opens the door, taking a swift look at your state. Probably, she wonders why you are there and why is the man of the house helping you enter. Domestic service will have a field day with every type of rumor.

Ryuken takes your already wet coat off, and commands for you to wait on a white sofa. You hesitate but sit carefully to avoid your knees even coming closer to it… you don’t want to leave blood marks on a probably very expensive settee. 

Soon, he comes back with a little box in his hands. A first aid kit to treat your wounds and a pair of gloves hanging from it. 

He has taken his coat off, and it might be the first time in all these years you see this man only wearing his shirt rolled up with no tie. 

You swallow; never once you’ve noticed how much Uryu and him look alike until now. No matter how different their hair colour can be, Ryuken has given his son delicious genes…  

“Let me see” he mutters, kneeling in front of you to inspect your bloody legs. 

You blink slowly, shaking your head side to side. How could you go from painful to indecent thoughts in a matter of seconds? 

“Mh, take your stockings off please” he orders. He couldn’t cure your knees on top of that nylon material even if he wanted to. 

You nod, standing up, full of shame. Cheeks on fire, trembling hands. He wants you to take your tights in front of him? while kneeling down? Apparently, yes. 

You try to lower them down without lifting the skirt of your uniform, though it becomes almost impossible. However, you do it quickly with his help; Ryuken pulls down your stockings exposing your right thigh a little too much…

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“RYUKEN??!!! (NAME)????!!!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Uryu calm down… I am just cur-” 

You couldn’t believe how things were unfolding right in front of your eyes. Uryu’s orbs went from miserable to enraged. His father? You? What is happening right now?

You flop back into the couch as everything begins spinning around in circles. Your heart is about to pop from your chest, going faster with every second it passes. 

The Quincy cross around Uryu’s wrist peaks through his coat, falling down ready to become his arch. 

“Son, you are a fool” Ryuken repeats, standing up. His glasses showing the blueish shine of his only child’s weapon pointed at him. 

“A fool you say? You are, indeed, right… Ryuken! From all the women, from all the-“

You have no idea how, nor when, but you run to hug Uryu as tight as it is humanly possible. Strands of your hair get cut by the reiishi coming to his arrow, the sound of it buzzing on your eardrums. 

“How could you think of your father this way? How could you think of me this way?” you ask, crying against his neck. “How could you…”

The Quincy archer’s hands tremble, becoming weaker and weaker until his arch turns back into his cross. His breathing begins to slow down, so much until you notice he might have stopped breathing. 

His weight becomes more and more noticeable in your arms, until it’s undeniable that he can’t stand up on his own. 

“Uryu? Uryu…?!” you panic, trying to hold his body up. 

“Ah… he hasn’t changed…” Ryuken sighs, coming to your help. His son has fainted, and it isn’t new. Uryu usually does when he can’t manage certain things. 

With utmost care, his father takes him to his bed. He deposits him there, as he used to do when Uryu was a child. 

“Y’know, this little shit… when he fell asleep he thought only his mom would carry him to his bed… but it was me. Every time he fell asleep anywhere but his bed, it was me who carried him in my arms… they grow but they never change” Ryuken says, almost in pain, while standing right on the bedroom door.  “Stay for as long as you wish, I’ll tell the domestic service to prepare the guest room in case you want to rest” 

You give him a sweet smile and a nod, still a little embarrassed for what had just happened. You watch this man go, while you remain sitting on Uryu’s bed, right next to him. 

You slowly take his glasses off, in such a way not even a feather could be that delicate. And in the same way, you move his onyx hair off his face. 

Uryu’s skin feels as soft as a cloud; the tip of your finger barely touches his cheek in a loving little caress. Perhaps guilty, you let your eyes feast on his unconscious façade. Perhaps this will be the last time you do. Perhaps he will hate you tomorrow and will let you know about it. 

“Move out of the way”  his words replay one too many times on your memories; it breaks your heart; it makes your whole body hurt. You should be the one mad at him, six years have passed and not a single time he dared to talk, to look, to even explain to you.. why did you leave me? 

And, despite him leaving you, mistreating you and now even thinking of you in such a despicable way, you stay by his side. 

Slowly, minutes pass, and he still doesn’t want to wake up. You know he is fine; he is just purposely deciding not to open his eyes. He did this when he was young, he did this many, many times. 

“I miss you… I have never stopped loving you” you whisper, bending to kiss his forehead. But you stop yourself; with lips in pain screaming to touch his skin, you simply couldn’t do it. 

And so, as the night progresses, your eyes slowly close… tired, hurt, in pain… your eyes finally shut off. 

Almost like in slow motion, your body slides down until you flop on the side of his bed. 

The little shake of your weight against the mattress wakes Uryu up. Such slumber finally eases off when he sees you sleeping on his side. A mix of pain and rage travels through his veins, what he saw still makes no sense to him. 

However, his body feels sore. His soul, even more. He isn’t able to move a little further from where he is. Uryu doesn’t want to wake you up, because if he did, he must put on that same act and kick you out from his own bed… he doesn’t really want you to go; deep inside, having you by his side is all he’s been wanting to do since the day he left. 

His eyes, opened like lonely stars illuminating a dark night, try to remove themselves from your sleeping you. He fails, miserably. Your beauty, your skin, every bump on your face, the scent of your flesh. It feels warm, so warm to be close to you… 

“So, this is how it feels to sleep right by your side?” he whispers, stopping his hand from touching the concavity of your waist as you lay on your side. “I wonder how it feels to hug… to touch all your skin” he continues, this time only in mind. “I wonder how it feels…” 

He had only kissed your lips, in a chaste, innocent peck. The first and the last, a pending love he hasn’t ever forgotten about. Now, as an adult, and after trying so many times with failed relationships that couldn’t even be named as such, his skin still burns for you. Just like the first time, just like what he considers the last. 

A sting on Uryu’s temple makes his eyes shut close; a headache he rarely had, now is more and more frequent… he feels like throwing up, a little dizzy and what not. A pain on his stomach follows, sharp, almost like leaving him with no air. 

“I should sleep a little more…” 

The sun shines through winter clouds of cold; snow has pooled on the streets and slowly begins to melt. Morning arrived a little too fast for both of you, given the fact that probably none of you wanted to wake up to face reality. 

“(Name)…” a whispering voice wakes you up. 

“Hmn?” you murmur, turning around, hugging something that feels warm.

“(Name)”

You wake up suddenly, realizing Uryu’s arm lays tangled in yours. His flesh feels like burning; He still sleeps, soundly -a little snoring here and there- and an expression of something bothering him. Maybe it is just the pain of his heart… You try to slide off his side to see the owner of the voice that’s been calling you up. 

“Dr. Ishida!” you whisper, standing up, stiffening all your muscles. Your waist feels sore, sleeping in such uncomfortable position probably has to do with it. 

“I’m having breakfast and heading to the hospital, are you coming?” Uryu’s father asks, he is, after all, your boss. As his assistant nurse, you are used to working with him… yet Uryu, doesn’t know about it just yet. 

“Are you sure, Doctor? Please don’t bother I-“ embarrassed, you try to brush the mess on your hair as well as the heavily wrinkled uniform. 

“Mh, let’s go. Don’t worry about him, he is probably sleeping all day… he used to do that while he was a kid. Also, when we get to my office, let’s check those knees. You hit hard against the ground” he continues, leaving the room with you following him. 

By now Uryu has already woken up, yet, his eyes remained closed on purpose. Listening to his father talk with you about him, about his day and especially letting him know you work with him every day aggravates his headache. 

He turns around, sinking his head into the pillow that has a faint scent of your perfume. Betrayed! Why has his father never told him you worked with him? What was the point of hiding such important information from him? 

ㅤ“He is doing it again… he is hiding stuff from me, once again… are they…?”

Never once did he feel betrayed like he feels right now. So much he did, that he began thinking this must be some kind of karma for what he did back during Yhwach’s evil plan. 

Uryu fights to remain calm and mature when facing both of you having breakfast; he wants to stand up from bed but feels so dizzy he can’t lift his head up from the pillow. Soon he notices sweat covering his neck and chest, but sadness has invaded him to really give a damn about his health anyway.  

“Dr. Ishida, is Uryu going to be ok? He seemed paler than ever, and how he fainted… I know this happened many times before when he was younger but… I don’t know…” you mumble, fidgeting on Ryuuken’s car seat. You are worried but still a little hurt by his words.  

“He is going to be fine, this is just the way he deals with stress, remember my son is a doctor. If he knows something is wrong, he will for sure tell me” Ryuuken informs you. 

“So, he graduated then… I’m so proud of him, is he a surgeon like you?” you ask, genuinely smiling. 

“A pediatrician” he answers back. “And I hope to have him with us very soon” 

You bite your nails, if Uryu wants you out of his sight he is probably not working with his father for sure. You soon realize you might be interfering a little too much in between them and the last thing you wish for is to make their relationship worse. 

You remain silent after that and up until you both arrive at the hospital. Once again, the receptionist and basically half the staff whisper while you pass through corridors and halls. For the very first time, now that you don’t want Uryu to misunderstand your relationship with Ryuken, you realize what the whispers are about. 

After having your knees checked, and even if they hurt a little, both get to work almost immediately. A couple of surgeries after, the phone of Ryuken’s office rings. 

You watch the white-haired man pick up and with that, his face transforming…

“Bring my son immediately to the sixth floor!” he screams at someone through the phone. He stands up and orders you to get ready for surgery…

 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“(Name), get ready. OR number 2. Now!” 

[To be continued]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[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.

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[bobfloydsbabe]

make the tables turn (the rewrite) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: Jake goes in for a routine physical, but is shocked to learn that his doctor is Jasmine Lane—the woman he tried to take home the night before.

WARNINGS: Getting weighed, inaccurate medical stuff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

A/N: I decided to not take down the original chapters of Turning Tables, so you can still find the fic in its original iteration. It will remain up until I'm done with the rewrite, so you can still enjoy the story in its entirety.

ORIGINAL MASTERLIST | REWRITE MASTERLIST

“Thank you, Lt. Garcia. That’s all for today,” Jas said, putting a final note in his chart.

“Thank you, Dr. Lane,” he said with a crooked smile and did the last few buttons on his khaki uniform. He bid her goodbye with a small wave, exiting the treatment room. 

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she heard him speak to someone in the waiting area, wishing them luck. She glanced at the file of her next victim, confirming that the voice in the waiting room belonged to exactly who she thought.

Martha, the head nurse, came in to top up the supply of needles on the cart in the corner. “Who’s your next victim?” She asked and straightened the already straight line of needle packs.

Martha had become a reassuring presence when Jas was first reassigned to Top Gun. She was a shoulder to lean on and she listened to Jas’ rants about how much she hated prescribing fluids and rest to men who really should be able to handle a little flu without seeing a medical professional. Martha brought her coffee on their shared night shifts and told Jas to get it together when she complained about the long and boring hours.

“Can you please send in Lt. Seresin?”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Watch out for that one,” she warned and went to collect him from the waiting area.

Sitting in her chair, Jas tried not to grin at the prospect of the look on his face when he saw her. He had no idea he was about to come face to face with the woman he had failed to take home.

She heard him before she saw him.

“Listen, Doc, I’m in peak physical condi…” he trailed off, stopping in his tracks just inside the threshold of her office, eyes trained on her. Martha closed the door behind him, sending Jas a knowing look.

“I’m sure you are, lieutenant,” Jas said and stood, offering her hand for him to shake, which he took with a skeptical look in his green eyes. “But you’re required to be here, so suck it up. I’m Dr. Lane.”

“You,” was all he said.

“Me.” She let go of his hand and gestured to the exam table. “Have a seat.”

He didn’t move. He looked every bit as attractive in the fluorescent lighting of her office as he had in the yellowish glow of the bar the night before. The only difference was the accusatory gleam in his eyes. “You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jas answered and gestured for him to sit once more.

His eyes hardened, but he still sat. “I asked what you did for work,” he argued.

“That you did,” she agreed. “And I told you I’m a doctor, which I am.” She waved a hand around her office at all the medical equipment, then adjusted the stethoscope around her neck for good measure. She shouldn’t wear it that way for safety, but old habits die hard.

He stared at her. “You lied.”

“I didn’t.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you were too busy trying to get in my pants to notice.” His mouth flattened into a tight line while his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you ready to begin?”

He grumbled a yes and answered a few routine questions. When Jas asked him to stand at the measurement on her wall, he did so without complaint. She joined him and brought the block down, noting the height on his chart.

“Have I grown, Doc?”

It was as if he’d flipped a switch. The sour mood of just a moment ago now replaced with an easy smile and a confident lilt to his tone. Jas saw it for what it was: an attempt to get the upper hand, but she had played this game many times before. He would have to do better if he wanted her to crack.

She met his gaze. “No.”

His brows drew together for an almost indiscernible second before he schooled his expression back into the unbothered folds of before.

Jas consulted with her checklist. “Okay, if you’ll just hop on the scale for me.” He turned to it, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Without your shoes.” 

He glowered. Gone was the smirk and the air of nonchalance he tried too hard to put on. In its stead was a seething temperament and barely concealed frustration. If she wasn’t enjoying this so much, she might have taken pity on him and stopped taunting him, but he was too much fun to tease. It was his own fault, really. Hadn’t he been cocky in his conviction that he could get Jas to sleep in his bed just the night before?

He sat on the exam table and undid the laces of his standard issue boots in silence.

He stood on the scale, and Jas joined him by it, adjusting it until it was even. She felt his eyes on her, assessing her every move and breath. Usually, her patients were eager to get this part of the exam over and done with, not keen to be weighed, but Hangman seemed unfazed.

“Alright,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Weight is normal.” She glanced up, finding his eyes still trained on her. The smile had crept back, the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Do I have something on my face, lieutenant?” She asked, stepping away to note the weight on his chart.

“You’re beautiful,” he drawled as he stepped off the scale.

“So you told me last night,” she reminded him, grabbing onto the ends of the stethoscope around her neck. “But charm won’t get me to change your weight.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t—”

“Now, have a seat on the table so I can check your vitals.” He crossed the room to the table and sat. “Remove your uniform shirt.”

He smirked, cocky and self-assured. “If you wanted me to strip, all you had to do was ask,” he said, his voice lower than before as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

“Your undershirt can stay on,” she informed him.

He frowned again, but didn’t argue. He placed the khaki shirt on one end of the table and offered his arm to her, familiar with the process of a physical. Jas placed the blood pressure monitor on his arm and ignored the feeling of his muscles rippling under the surface of his skin. She could make out every corded muscle in his shoulders under the white undershirt, and her mouth went dry.

She could feel him watching her again. Jas bit her lip, concentrating on reading the results on the monitor, not the thrilling feeling of his attention solely on her.

“Okay,” she breathed and undid the band of the monitor. “Blood pressure looks fine.”

“No need to be modest, Doc. It’s perfect,” he proclaimed. “I’ve gotten many compliments on my blood pressure.”

Jas snorted, unable to help herself. “I find that hard to believe.”

She went to her desk to note down the results before moving on to listen to his heart and lungs. Both sounded good, and she was a little annoyed that his numbers were essentially the same as his last physical. Perfect. If there was ever any reason to hate a man, this had to be it.

“Right,” she began. “I’m just going to have a look at your ears and throat. Open up.” She placed a wooden stick on his tongue and shone a light down his throat. She shouldn’t imagine what that mouth would feel like pressed against hers, or what wicked things his tongue could do to her body, but the vision was vivid in her mind. Jas forced the thought from her mind and ignored the fluttering feeling in her stomach. It was the last thing she needed right now. 

After clearing his throat, she looked in his ears and found nothing out of the ordinary there either.

He really was in peak physical condition, and she almost hated him.

The Navy was truly punishing her. She had saved a man’s leg, and this was the thanks she got? Having to check high and mighty fighter pilots over for issues that weren’t there? 

Silently fuming, Jas walked back to the desk once again to check off the throat and ears on her list, then returned to Seresin, who still sat dutifully on the exam table. “I’m just going to check the lymph nodes in your neck, okay? Then we’ll check your vision afterward.”

He smirked. “Go ahead, Doc.” Jas placed her hands on either side of his neck and felt for swelling under the skin.

“How’d you end up stationed here?”

Jas leaned back, hands stilling on his neck. “Why?”

He put his hands up. “Good, old-fashioned curiosity.”

“It’s a long story,” she admitted, hoping the answer would be enough to discourage any further questions. She dropped her hands from his neck and walked to the back wall, turning on the light in the vision chart.

“Do you take any medications?” she asked, handing him the occluder.

He shook his head. “Make a long story short?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “Now, cover your left eye and read the line with the smallest letters you can see.”

He rattled off all the letters on the bottom row without issue and did the same with his right eye. Jas rolled her eyes and took the occluder back from him.

“Any unusual moles or other marks on your skin?”

“No,” he answered. “Tell the story over a drink, then?”

Jas snorted. “Not gonna happen.”

He hummed. “Alright, your loss.”

“Oh no. How will I ever survive?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

His eyes darkened, going from the color of sea glass to mossy green. He stood from the exam table and strode toward her like a predator on the hunt, and Jas’ breath caught in her throat. He stopped right in front of her, their chests a hairbreadth away from each other. He was only a few inches taller than her, but she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“You’ll change your mind,” he said, voice low and sultry. “Soon, you’ll beg for my time.”

The moment broke.

Jas stifled a groan and placed a hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back and put distance between them. “I think I need to refer you to a specialist,” she told him seriously.

He frowned. “What’s wrong with me?”

Jas turned back to her desk and picked up his chart. She pretended to study it, allowing herself a moment to regain her composure. “I think you need to have your ego surgically removed,” she explained. “It’s a risky procedure, but you should be just fine. You might even get a date afterward.”

Hangman groaned, running his hands over his face. “Are you done?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Not even close, but I’ll spare you for today. You can put your shirt and boots back on.”

Jas jotted down some additional notes in his chart, including his perfect eye test, as he redressed. She put the pen down and placed her hands in her lab coat while she waited for him to finish tying his shoelaces.

He stood, and their eyes met. A battle of wills locked in a stalemate. His signature smirk spread across his handsome face. “I’ll see you around, Doc,” he said and tipped an invisible hat to her, reaching for the door handle. Jas could acknowledge that he was charming without shuddering at the admission. Almost.

“I’ll count the hours,” she joked.

Hangman abruptly turned around and caged her in between the desk and his body. She could feel the heat radiating off him. He bent his head down, and Jas felt his breath on her lips. Her eyes darted to his for a split second, but he had caught her. She knew by the way the corner of his mouth turned up.

“I’ll be thinking of you tonight,” he said, voice barely audible. The implication was obvious, and Jas’ cheeks grew hot for the first time in his presence. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable in the fluorescent light or she would never hear the end of it.

He stood back, and Jas tried to hide the fact that she had to gasp for air.

“You have a nice day, Dr. Lane.”

He winked at her and exited her office, leaving the door open and allowing the thick tension in the room to dissipate. She was still catching her breath when Martha escorted her next patient into the room.

“Dr. Lane, are you alright?”

Jas snapped her head up, finding Martha and a bespectacled aviator looking at her with worry etched into their features.

She forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She offered her hand to the aviator, who shook it dutifully. “You must be Lt. Floyd. Have a seat.”

As Jas went through Floyd’s physical, her thoughts kept returning to Hangman, trying to understand exactly how he had gained the upper hand.

She wasn’t sure, but she vowed to get it back. Whatever it took.

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[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.”

[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-

[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.

[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.

[tenaciouschronicler]

December 5 2024 2009

I think I've stated many times how much I love when we get 180 switches in the narrative.

Here John is trying to reconcile the fact maybe his dad isn't what he imagined.

Maybe he was too embarrassed to tell you the truth? Or maybe it was just that you'd never bothered to ask?

But why would you, John, if your dad never gave you indication otherwise? And like @homestuckreplay said, none of this 100% discounts the fact he Could still be a clown, just a non conventional one.

And then we switch to Dad causing chaos of the highest caliber. Breaking out of his cell and tossing safes around like its nothing.

You're going to need a bigger safe.

We then meet two new characters.

The first looks a lot like Spades Slick from the Midnight Crew, ARCHAGENT JACK NOIR, overseer of the Dark Kingdoms affairs from his three FENESTRATED WALLS.

However, much to your utter contempt, your FOURTH WALL was stolen some time ago.

Loving the meta implication here that the wall missing is the one we are looking through. And the owner? From the hands typing commands that affect the story, Ive got a hunch this unknown figure is the Narrator. I know I've said before that the Narrator is probably a seperate character, but seeing it this way where they Are in the story but also controlling it is interesting. I wonder if we will get even more meta moments with the characters this Narrator.

Back to Jack Noir, even if he is for evil there is one aspect in which he can commiserate with John (and WV now that I think about it); the colorful new harlequin uniform mandated by his ruler is a hideous, loathsome monstrocity. I wonder what came first, the dislike of harlequins or the uniform change?

There seems to be levels of sentience/subservience to the denizens of this kingdon that might also be reflected in the one of Light. If we work off of the chess metaphor, the imps we see around Johns house would be equal to pawns. They dont show any emotions for or against the style choices of their ruler and are single mindedly focused on destruction.

Jack and this fella, who looks like Hearts Boxcars, are drawn different. If you look closely, they also seem to have that barcode WV and PM have. I'd like to say that makes the four, Jack, PM, WV, and this guy, minor pieces however I cant even begin to think of which ones specifically. But also, does that make PM and WV defectors and was that before or after the costume change?

Things just aren't going well for Jack, first his Monarch (who must be Huge if only their eyes/hand are visible at a time) interrupts to force hat wearing compliance. Then, once the screen flips back we find Dad just walloping on that minion of Jacks'.

While Jack prepares for however hes gonna handle Dad, we go back to John. Snooping around, he finds some more gifts. Seems we are returning to sylladex shenanagins: John Edition.

Inside John finds 12 cards and a new modus, Array, which is infinitely easier, letting the user access any card at anytime. But of course this is John, hes not gonna take the easy way, no sir. Using the control deck, he inserts the Stack and Queue modi to access either the top or bottom card. And then to make it more complex he adds the Array, blowing out the dust as any gamer would.

Behold, an array of Queuestacks!

This is just the sort of needless complexity you have come to expect from your INVENTORY MANAGEMENT SYSTEM.

Just as I expected from you John, you maniac.

Inside the smaller box John finds a box of Fruit Gushers which receives a celebratory jig. The larger box is just as great in Johns eyes being a whole suit. I wouldnt peg him as a suit man but who am I to judge.