#how dare they inconvenience me personally

[mearcatsreturns]

my default birthday restaurant had the audacity to move? like?

[wishful-seeker]

I would like to see more people talk about how jobs treat disabled employees.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

That job thats hurting you isn't fucking worth it. I promise you no money is worth losing all your physical abilities and never getting them back. Your coworkers and boss do not give a shit about you, so don't you dare suffer for them. They will never understand your struggle and they will never try. They truly think being understaffed is worse than whatever pain you experience. They would rather you permanently damage yourself than inconvenience them. FUCK THEM. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i���m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[sqtorux]

TEXT AUS 1:

am i the one for you?

would you still love me if i were a worm?

jjk men vs a dry partner

anti romantic texts with jjk men

arguments and aftermath of a fight with jjk men :

part 1 part 2

drunk/suggestive texts with jjk men

random bf!gojo texts

‘he left, you can come over now’

random bf!geto texts

sneaky.ᐟ

hanging out with someone they don't know

a long nap

jealousy, jealousy

no lube, no protection

solace

not this time.ᐟ

random bf!toge texts

morning fairy.ᐟ

jjk boys vs a dry partner

insecurities

aftercare

cousin allegations .ᐣ

autocorrect fails .ᐟ

after me.ᐣ

new theme ★

ink on skin!

excuse me who?

breaking and entering

im right here?

debt trap!

twisted discipline?

oh my mistake

some wounds and a few more

a daring challenge

there was an attempt

can you hear me sos

text from an ex

can't escape me!

guess the makeup

new theme‧₊˚✩ ₊˚⊹

rent free!

silly lyric pranks

fuzzy menace

look at you go!

love drunk

an arbitrary declaration

match made in heaven!

an honest blunder

losing your wedding ring

forbidden fruit

family bonding time!

a blossoming dilemma

reversed roles

nightmare blues

oops wrong send!

how many likes?

what's your password?

can your bf fight?

sex ban

arguments with jjk boys

that's not me

new theme ♥︎

the dating plan

a kinky confession

wrong number?

accidental nudes

leaving them while they napped

first "i love you"

naughty playthings

after the rain

baby? baby!

talk that talk

can we get a pet?

“sorry wrong person”

a friendly banter (or not)

caught in the act

you're where again?

an inconvenient alternative

communication mishaps

chibi nuisances

forgotten plans

under the influence

heat waves

secret antics

bad words

towel please!

fashion icon

too salty for your heart

past flings

—· end ·—

find the new masterlist for the text aus here !

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

not be able communicate by words means… constantly be misunderstood. misinterpreted. not have any way show own perspective, your side of story. your story always written talked about interpreted read thru other people.

someone did something wrong you. someone hurt you. someone say wrong thing…

someone make up malicious thing about you. maybe that you rude ungrateful bad temper behavior problem. it now become truth it now become you because there no way you correct them.

you can’t educate them. you can’t explain it to them. nevermind that, for example, you severely disabled n having symptoms that impact quality of life, or have symptoms that dare inconvenience people - can only watch as people around you speak “for” you not with your interest in mind but of their own selfishness - that people who can communicate by word say you only do that because you lazy, you selfish, want attention, on purpose, just want to for no reason, faking, inherent personality flaw.

not just big things. more often it those small things that build up every day, happen tens n hundreds of times each day, every day, every week, every month, every year… more often it those small things that add up that break you.

imagine everything bad, incorrect, & bad and incorrect thing said about you in your life. n now imagine you not able defend yourself, explain yourself, or even say those wrong not true.

n any attempt of yours to maybe protest, not enough, people not understand, or downright not listened to, made fun of. at first you shake head make noise meaning no all calm. after while of it not work you get frustrate n it start showing. you get impatient n snappy, why none of you understand, is any of you even trying. but people around you with privilege of able communicate n defend self thus never have experience of not have that, find it such basic of skill that they no longer see it as acquired skill but instead see as innate, born in, natural, cannot imagine person not have it just like can’t imagine living person not breathing—they only see their perspective n only see their interaction n not the many, hundreds n thousands, of previous communication where no one understood you (or even tried to). so they mock you (sometimes they the one who on purpose provoke you to see your reaction like you monkey in cage for their entertainment), geez big reaction why can’t you be patient. n you get label, impatient, rude, explosive, anger issues.

you protest in only way you can without words. you do it by sounds n noises n movement. you raise voice you scream you smash thing around you you hit yourself in frustration you hit other people who don’t understand you because you frustrated at their incompetence n how much they failing you. because. show me another way person can communicate without words. show me way that one can continue do after tens n thousands of misinterpretations n miscommunications n malicious interactions, n still remain calmly, “appropriately.”

you communicate in only way you can with only emotion you can feel at this point: anger, frustration, helpless. be misunderstood, even smallest innocent one, become trauma become trigger. miscommunication alone can set it off, make you see red n see billion of previous miscommunication where everyone failed you n left you to fend for self. then the backhanded jab that sometimes follow, that make thing exponentially worse.

you communicate in only way you can with only emotion left you can feel that consume you. loud sounds, screaming, get physical. it not earn you be understood. it only earn you this: be called impatient, irrational, explosive, land mine, rude, ungrateful, annoying…

“behavior issues.”

and that’s another misinterpretation of you you can’t defend yourself against. cycle repeats.

n other verbal people only listen to other verbal people. so these descriptions of you become “your truths”.

n the true you left there. to rot.

a lot people with no functional communication (either because no ability, or because circumstances) labeled as have behavior issues. yeah, no fucking shit. try it for a while. anyone would “have behavioral issues” in these circumstances.

no one seem to care. so okay fuck yeah am difficult kid, have behavioral issues, make your life miserable. yeah am terrible person, have inherent personality flaw of no fault but my own. except now do it on purpose, make it true now, put ability to control own truth in own hand. because you all seem want me be that so bad. so now you get it. don’t complain now, you all asked for it really really nicely.

but deep down. at most basic. hidden beneath. really just. want be understood. want be helped. want people to learn my communication.

“many behavior is communication” yes, those kind of behaviors should be respected n valued n listened, but try behavior your way out of correcting n explaining everything just said in post to person who just don’t seem to get it

without rely on good grace of nice people around you who keep on play guess games n give out guesses in words you can nod or shake head to. now, that’s cheating.

people not nice to people who *have no choice* but to *only* rely on behaviors & vocal noises to communicate

n, even if every single person nice. behaviors n vocal noises alone, not enough.

this written with full time experience in mind

[frantic-fiction]

Secluded Evening 18+

(GIF: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+ MDNI pretty much pure smut, fluff, nipple piercings, nipple play. Skinning dipping, unprotected sex, Late Act 1 Astarion

Summary: Astarion catches reader during a midnight swim. Playful flirting becomes physical. Basically, my take on reader and Astarion's first time in act 1. There is way more implication of Astarion's real attraction for reader, not just a manipulation tactic.

Word Count: 2.8k

The shadow curse land is just a few days west, and a sickly feeling has crept through the camp. The party is on edge, fighting a constant headache as you attempt to mediate the tension in a group of solid personalities during highly stressful events. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are at each other’s throats, bickering and pulling daggers when either sends a quip in the other's direction. Karlach is still burning hot despite her upgrade, and with Dammon already far along the path, all you can do is promise to get her to Baldur’s Gate as quickly as you can. Wyll is fine, but he’s Wyll, so that’s not surprising.

Gale, however, might be the one pushing your buttons the most, or at least he is testing your patience past your limit now. “Tav, I don’t believe I have to express again how important it is to acquire a magical artifact soon.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you get the sudden urge to whack him over the head with the book you held unread in your hands. “I will be glad not to have to feel my chest be ripped in two, but I will repeat: if I do not consume an artifact, I will die and level the general vicinity with me.”

You push off the log, slamming the novel down. Level-headedness has been one of your strong suits. It’s the main reason you found yourself leading these misfits across the kingdom. You can keep your cool under the most extreme sources of stress, but everyone is just annoying you today.

“Look, I get it. You need a shoe to chew on, or you’ll go boom. But guess what? I have given you every spare artifact I have to give. Our coins are down to silver and copper. So unless you are willing to chomp down on the stupid circlet you just ‘had to get,’ then you can suck it up and wait until we reach another town.” By the end, you’re yelling, and Gale looks like a kicked puppy. The rest of the camp has turned to look at your outburst. You burn with regret for everything immediately.

You reach out a tentative hand, “Gale, I didn’t—”

“No, you are absolutely right. Apologies for my inconvenience. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Tav.” He quickly returns to his tent and pins the flaps close.

Sighing, you rub your hands down your face. You feel terrible; Gale’s condition is excruciating, and you hate to be unable to get him something to alleviate the pain, but your supplies are down to the bone. “Fuck,” you breathe, picking the book back up and storing it away.

“I must say, my sweet, I could get used to this more dominating personality of yours. It certainly gets me excited.” Astarion practically purrs in your ear. You turn face to face and stumble back slightly at his proximity.

Brushing your hair behind your ears, you avoid his eye contact. A warmth spreads across your face. “Oh, I'm sure,” you smirked, clearing your throat and recovering quickly.

It was a game between you two, ignited on the beach with a knife to your throat. Harmless flirts, playful banter with no attention to go further. Attraction is thick, but neither dares to press in this dance.

He crowds into your space. His nose practically tickles yours. He plays with your hair, fingers tangling in the locks. His face dawns an emotion of concern. “Darling, I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed these last few days.”

His breath fans your face. You grab the edge of his shirt. “I think it would be a good idea to release some tension. Some alone time, maybe?” His pointer finger traced the bone of your jaw.

You smirk and pull away, trailing your hand up the contours of his chest. “You're right.” His wicked grin widens like a cat playing with prey. “I think I'll call in early and have a night to myself. I hope you will be okay hunting tonight.”

When you were scouting the perimeter, you stumbled across a small alcove. It was breathtaking. Several willows enclosed a small lake, water beautifully sparkling in the sun. You love swimming and have been thinking about the lake ever since. You occupy yourself with finishing your book until the sun sets. Once the camp settles for the night, you grab your pack and sneak your way out to the forest line.

Astarion’s grin drops, and his arms go limp. You slip away, lifting the edge of your tent. “Thank you again. Do you mind telling the others as well?”

He glares knowingly, and with a wink, you drop the flap and sit on the floor. You gather your supplies: a change of clothes, your only towel, and your washing bag.

The lake isn't too far, and before you know it, you're there. It's different in the moonlight. Fireflies buzz around the cattails, the willow branches sway softly above the water, and frogs croak on lily pads. You set a blanket to place the rest of your stuff around, quickly tossing your clothes off and wading into the water.

It's not as cold as expected, but you still gasp at the initial sting. You adapt quickly and soon dive fully, submerging into the fresh water. You stay underwater; ears plugged, giving a warped vibration through your head. Once your lungs begin to burn, you surface and gulp air.

“Well, isn't this just a coincidence?” Astarion chuckles, standing at the shore with pale forearms crossed over his chest. “I was just out on my hunt when I came across such a delectable treat.”

You bite your bottom lip, pulling your hands back and forth, sucking water in and out around your form. “Well, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

You move onto your back and float, exposing your entire front half to his eyes. The water on your skin chills in the air. Your nipples pebble, and you hear a groan.

Floating in the water, you close your eyes. It's quiet momentarily before a large splash startles you and you're pulled under. You kick instinctually, and Astarion grabs your foot and drags you closer.

His strong arms circle your waist, and you resurface. You smack his chest. “You asshole.”

He laughs, and before you know it, you're laughing too. You sway in Astarion's arms as he carries you deeper into the lake. Grabbing a flower floating in the water, you begin to pick some of the limp petals. You look up and slide the flower into his hair. It's adorable.

Astarion pinches your chin and pulls your face close, staring deep into his eye. There are no words; you feel the line shatter when the reality of what's happening sinks in. There is no performance in his eyes. No formulaic flirtatious lines or sexy words. What is happening? You don't know, but when he crashes his lips to yours, you really fucking want to find out.

It's like a rubber band. The kisses open the damn, and soon your legs are wrapped around his hips. One hand threads through his pale curls, the other encircling his neck.

Astarion breaks from your lips and trails sloppy kisses down to your neck. "I have waited long enough to ravish you, my dear,"

And then you are moving; he's quickly wading through the water, not once removing his lips from your throat. You know it will bruise, and the idea of another mark of his sends heat lower down your body.

You sigh when Astarion nips your neck, pressing you down on the blanket. Wet skin slides against damp skin. Grabbing his hair, you pull him back up, capturing his lips. It is messy, sloppy, and all too much to handle.

You arch up, pressing your breast against his chest. He pauses, and you whine when he pulls away.

"What are these?" Astarion practically growls, pinching your hard nipple. You gasp his name as he twists the small metal bar through the nub. He grinds his hips against your leg. He's hard, his cock presses against his stomach.

"Jewelry," you moan, clutching his shoulder. "They make me more sensitive."

"Oh, my naughty girl," he lowers to take your neglected breast into his mouth. His skillful tongue sucks your breast, his hand paying equal attention to your other. Feeling a scrap of his fangs, you let out a cry of ecstasy, rolling your hips, seeking any source of friction.

Astarion pins your hips down and pulls away from your breast with a wet pop. "No, no, my sweet. I think you have not been fair keeping least lovely tits from me. I can't remember ever seeing such unique body modifications." He gives a sharp bite to your breast, just deep enough to pierce the skin.

Droplets of blood beaded to the surface; it was quickly lapped up with his tongue, a groan crawling its way up his chest. He slips one of his legs under yours, and his hips slide his stiff cock between sopping wet folds. You choke out his name, and his mouth moves to the other breast. "I think I'm owed a bit longer exploring such a beautiful chest."

"My, my, you're so responsive. I could spend hours pleasing you with my tongue." Astarion trails his tongue up between your breasts, eyes boring up into your flushed face. "Just imagine the delightful words I could pull from your beautiful lips as I lay between your thighs, playing your exquisite body like a bard's violin."

Your breath is uneven, panting while Astarion takes his time lavishing your breasts. Soon, your nipples are on fire, swollen from the ruthless attention Astarion has provided. Tears sting your eyes. You are desperate for anything, nothing; you are not sure, but you are moaning and pleading up into the night air. All available skin was victim to your desperate fingers.

"Starion, ugh-please, they're too sensitive." You tug at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips tug the metal bar just enough to pull another cry from your lips. He releases your breast with a wet pop.

You bite his neck (almost the same spot he uses to feed from you) and all semblance of his control dissolves—you're back on the blanket in a show of Astarion's speed. Air was knocked from your lungs. "Fuck, my dear," Astarion grinds against you coating his cock in more of your juices. "I believe we've waited enough time to enjoy each other. So, I think I fuck you, deep and slow, until you can only scream my name. And if you're lucky, spend the rest of the night pulling lovely whimpers from your over-sensitive cunt."

His husky voice purred in your ears. Your thighs clench, arousal dripping onto the blanket. "Star," you breathe out, grabbing his face and crashing your lips together. Teeth clashed, and tongues fought for dominance. Wrapping your legs fully around Astarion's slim hips, you roll up. Using his distraction as leverage, you twist your hips and maneuver the two of you.

Astarion is now on his back, curls silver in the dark, and his eyes are wide with shock. You comfortably sat on his hips, hands pressing on each of his pecs. "You have my full permission to do that, but if you don't fuck me right now, I will be taking care of myself in my tent." Lips are back on his before you chuckle in his ears. "We have teased each other for months. I think it's about time you do something about this pretty boy."

Astarion doesn't leave a moment to respond before he impales you with one deep thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Astarion grabs your calf, raises your leg, and sets a brutally slow pace.

You were matching each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. Your mouth at his chest and throat, sloppily leaving kisses and spit on his pale torso. "Ug-fucking Gods, you so tight," The sounds of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of pleasure break up the quietness of the lake.

Astarion presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your whimpers of ecstasy. The force of his thrusts is jostling your breasts; your nipples rub against his cold skin.

The moans roll off your tongue; you put a hand into his hair. "A-astarion fast…faster," you choke, snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies to rub small circles over your clit. The warm tightening coils in your lower abdomen. "P-please, Star."

"Beautiful." Astarion's pace picks up, his balls slapping against your pussy. He quickly pushes your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own.

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and the cold pierce of his fangs digs into your throat. You choke on gasp, hips stuttering. Astarion is dragging, mouthfuls of your blood down his throat, his fingers picking up pace, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The coil is tightening, and soon, you cannot form words outside of Astarion's name between pleases. "Oh, my sweet girl, so lost on my cock. I...fuck...I know it feels good."

He pinches your left nipple again and you whimper. "Your body is exquisite. I won't be able to last much longer, my love." His voice is hoarse, and he rambles between frantic ruts. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Astarion presses kisses and licks to the hollow of your throat. He is asking for permission, and you quickly press him closer. "Yes, please," you groan. All the sensations Astarion was giving you were becoming too much. You were quickly approaching the edge.

The pain mixes with pleasure, and it's too much. Tears prick at your eyes. You ticken around hos cock and a rumble ruptures through his chest. He takes a few more gulps before pulling away. Astarion's tongue licks, ensuring no waste of your blood.

As soon as he pulls away from your neck, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth with a quick thrust—the metallic tang of your blood mixes between your mouths. "I'm close," you breathe, running your nose against his. Your panting, feeling like no breath can satisfy your burning lungs.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy, devolving into more grinds of hips. His fingers drag over your clit in tight, fast circles. "Me too," he's just as breathless, hips stuttering with pleasure. "Come for me, darling, let me hear you."

It's like your body was waiting for his honey-slick words to give you permission. Because the moment those words leave his devilish lips, you snap. You scream his name, legs pulling him close.

You didn't expect post-sex cuddles from Astarion, but gods, you could fall in love with this man if you weren't careful. But would that be too bad? To fall in love? You kiss his collarbone and pull your towel over the majority of your body.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts. Astarion comes with a breathy moan spilling deep into your core. You two lay there, tangled in each other's body. Hearts are pounding as you breathe each other's air.

Astarion pulls out and rolls to his back. You curl onto his chest, laying your ear over his silent heart. He plays with your hands and peppers kisses over your hairline.

You wish to stay the night in his arms right here, just having him hold you. But Astarion stiffens slightly when a shiver rolls through your body. It's like the bubble of serenity pops. Astarion is quick to remove himself from you.

"I don't believe cuddling wet and naked with a vampire is good for one's health." He's pulling his clothes on. And reluctantly and with shaky legs, you follow his lead. Astarion is quiet on the walk back, lost in thought. He plays with a coin mindlessly.

You don't push, knowing Astarion better than to pry. So you let him walk you to your tent. And just as you move to duck into your bed for sleep, Astarion grabs your wrist.

You turn and look up into his scarlet eyes. His expression is hard to read; his confusion, hesitancy, affection, and anger are fluidly behind his eyes. They could all fit, but nothing seemed to reflect Astarion's eyes. "I…" He pauses, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. He opens his mouth again but clicks it back close. Astarion searches your eyes as if they held the answer to his unspoken question.

Astarion doesn't seem to find what he's looking for because he shakes his hand—pressing a light kiss to the apple of your cheek. He drops your hand reluctantly. "Have a good night, my dear,"

Then he's gone, leaving you alone, the tingle of his lips still lingering on your skin. Your fingers trail across your cheek, and a small smile stretches your lips. Yeah, you could very easily fall in love with that man. Maybe you already have.

Okay let me know what you thought? I haven't written smut in forever and have never been super confident in it.

If you liked this how about checking out my other two Astarion pieces.

Happy Birthday **** Reoccurring Nightmares

[hanafubukki]

Menstrual Cramps Comfort Headcanons with Diasomnia (+ Meleanor Draconia and The Knight of Dawn)

You are cramping and curled up in bed, Malleus holds you, his tail and arms holding you protectively. The heat from his hands sooth your pain. Malleus would try and keep your mind off the pain by talking to you or spouting random gargoyle facts. When you were sleeping, he would cast a spell so you would have sweet dreams. “Ask me anything you need, beloved, and I will provide.” Suffice to say, Malleus will be with you the entire time.

Lilia knew about menstrual cycles but the fae’s differs from the humans vastly. So he learned what he could from books and online resources, now if those books were up to date is another story. Lilia is a caretaker and he will take care of you: blankets, chocolates, and head pats are some of what you can look forward to. “I’m here, love. You can lean on me.” But also, because he’s cheeky, “I know there’s a way you don’t have to worry about your cycle for 9 months. What do you say? Should we try it~”

Silver knew something was wrong from the way you moved. He was a trained knight, it was his duty to observe for anything out of the ordinary, and you were clearly not yourself. When you hunched over in pain, he was quick to your side, offering to take you to the infirmary. Chivalry isn’t dead, it is literally personified in Silver. He would hold heavy items for you, pick you up from class, get you food, and make sure to remind you of meds if you need it. He would offer to stay with you so you wouldn’t be alone. “I don’t want to see you suffer, please rely on me.”

Sebek could smell the blood miles away. Normally he would think it’s just a result from normal NRC brawls, but when he smelled it concentrated on you, he was alert right away. He would ask you where you were hurt, practically ready to haul you over his shoulder to the infirmary, but when he paused and observed you: he knew what was wrong. It’s okay, he would assure you, he knew what to do from his mother and his sister after all. You could tell he was embarrassed, but he took his duty diligently in protecting you. He would make you teas, spout facts on what you should and shouldn’t do, and be ready for anyone who looked wrong at you. “Be at ease! For I will protect you from any harm. Now, drink that tea. It will help your pain.”

Meleanor was surprised when she learned about human’s cycles. For the fae, it was vastly different. They had it a couple times a year, but for humans to have it every month? My, how inconvenient it can be, especially if it is as painful as yours seems to be. No worries, she will provide so you are always comfortable. After all, she is Queen of Briar Valley, everything is within her reach. She would have you rest, her hands threading through your hair, soothing you. Her humming a melody calming you down. If anyone dared to hurt you, she wouldn’t hold back from smiting them. “Imbeciles, they dare to hurt you? I will deal with them personally. Now rest, little one, I’m here.”

The Knight of Dawn is determined and loyal as you know. He would notice right away when he saw you. He knew something was off. You seemed to curl into yourself more as time went on. He would watch you throughout the day, helping you whenever he could. He had an inkling of what was wrong but didn’t want to embarrass you. He would bring you food and have you rest repeatedly throughout the day. He would ask the three fairies who blessed him for a potion to help you should the pain be more than you could handle. At times, you couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to just carry you to bed with how antsy he unknowingly was. He would hold your hand and rub his thumb on your wrist, trying to sooth you. Don’t be surprised if you fell asleep in his warm presence and woke up to him smiling gently at you. “Are you awake? Sleep some more, I will watch over you.”

[flamingoofeathers]

ik u write for bridget but does that extend to the queen of hearts as well? if so, would love a queen of hearts x femreader where the reader is one of her guards and it’s so obvious to literally everyone around them that the queen has a soft spot for reader but she’s completely oblivious to it

𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗟𝗬 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡 || 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧/𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairings: bridget/queen of hearts x guard!reader

summary: in the cold heart of the queen, a spot is reserved for a certain guard that has caught her attention long ago, if only she realized.

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

one-shot; wc: 1.7k

main masterlist bridget masterlist

a/n: i usually don't write for the Queen of Hearts, but this certain request inspired me to write this, i hope this up to your expectations and enjoy it! 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗞 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗘𝗩𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝟲𝟬 𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗦! 𝗜 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗦𝗢 𝗠𝗨𝗖𝗛!!<𝟯

Amidst Wonderland, there ruled a queen with a firm hand and a discerning eye. She held authority upon everyone who lived in her kingdom, strict rules made to keep everyone in order. But, beneath the hard and authoritative exterior she held, a hidden corner in her heart that had softened over time, a spot reserved for a certain guard….Y/n is her name, a diligent and loyal guard.

Y/n was known throughout the kingdom for her unwavering dedication and sense of duty, but also for the obvious affect she had towards the Queen.

In the Royal Palace, hearing whispers about the unusual behaviour the Queen had in front of the female guard was common, a lovesick like behaviour.

The Queen had first noticed her steadfast presence and her keen eyes that missed nothing. Over time, an unspoken fondness grew in the Queen’s heart for Y/n.

One day, the portrait of the Queen had been vandalised, painted red and slashed…..𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, she has had it either the constant attacks toward her, despite it not being direct and she was determined to find the culprit.

As the queen entered the palace’s court, the guards bowed down before her presence and watched as she neared them before commanding them to stand.

The Jack of Diamonds rose to his feet and approached the queen with caution “My Queen. I apologise for the inconvenience, i-“

“Have you found the culprit or not!?” The Queen bellowed, tired of the incompetency of the guard.

“Not yet, your excellency, but i am working on it” Jack of Diamond uttered.

“You are considered to be my greatest subject! You have exhausted my patience…OFF WITH YOU-“ Just as the Queen yelled another figure spoke.

“Your Royal Highness! If i may interrupt.” The female guard, Y/n, said.

The Queen turned around ready to condemn, the one who dared to interrupt her, that is until she saw who it was.

“Y/n! Darling, of course, please…what is it?” The queen had suddenly calmed down at mere sight of the girl. The queen stood before her with a smile on her face, standing like a puppy waiting for its master.

“Your Grace, i would like to deeply apologise, the Jack of Diamonds isn’t to blame. I was the one on duty these past few nights and if there is someone to be punished, it is i. I have been incompetent and unable to capture the perpetrator.” The female guard contested, bowing down to her knees before the Queen.

The Queen grew panicked “No no, darling…” the red haired girl chuckled nervously “ i was simply joking, ahahah” she faked laughed looking around, threatening anyone with her eyes who didn’t laugh along with her “his head will stay on and so will yours, darling, do not worry about it” the Queen cleared her throat.

“Are you certain, your Majesty?” Y/n said raising her head to look at the Queen.

“Yes, yes….now, please, get up, no need to how to me” the Queen insisted taking Y/n by her arms, personally guiding her to stand up.

“Now, that…is now solved. Take your time, Darling, it is only a portrait after all” The Queen smiled before gesturing at the other guards “just replace it immediately or its off with you heads” she said before leaving along with the other guards.

The Jack of Diamonds approached her reluctantly “Just because the Queen has a soft spot for you, doesn’t mean that i do.” the guard said with hatred.

“What are you talking about, the Queen treats her Royal subjects the same.” The girl said firmly, she didn’t have time to slack off or the vandalist might cause another ruckus.

“Oh please, it’s obvious she likes you more than the rest of us, why? I do not know, you are annoying.” He said with a tone of jealousy.

“You know, a thank you, would be nice?”

“I don’t need you to save me, you weren’t on patrol last night, i was. I am not coward who cant take the consequences”

“Just say thank you”

“….thank you.”

“See….that easy”

It was an unusually tranquil day, with the sun casting a warm glow over the well maintained grounds. The roses, painted red under her command, stood vibrant and proud.

The garden, usually a place of solitude for the Queen, held an unexpected encounter that day.

As she meandered through the rows of bushes, she noticed Y/n conversing with a few other guards.

The Queen paused, watching from a distance as Y/n’s face lit up with a rare smile, her usual stern demeanor softened.

The sight stirred something in the Queen, a blend of curiosity and a pang of jealousy. She wanted that smile to be reserved only for her.

Determined to have Y/n to herself, the Queen approached the group with her authoritative presence commanding immediate attention.

“Y/n…darling, how have you been?” The Queen smiled interrupting their conversation.

“Your Grace! Why is am doing quite fine, how about you, ma’am?” Y/n said with a small bow.

“Why i am fine now that you are here” she replied before turning towards the other guards standing there awkwardly.

Her smile fell and her eyes turned cold.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty” they replied in unison before dispersing leaving her and the guard alone.

Y/n looked at her with a hint of confusion “Your Majesty, how can i assist you?”

The smiled on the Queen’s face returned “Walk with me, dear. I find the garden more enjoyable with your company”

Y/n nodded, as she fell into step beside the queen. They walked in silence with the Queen stealing glances at her, she noticed the tense and attentive stance of the girl as they walked.

“No need to be tense, my dear, it is only the two of us after all” she said calmly.

“Danger could be right around the corner, Your Grace, i simply can’t risk you getting hurt” the girl said looking around them.

The words of the guard made the queen’s cold heart, warm. She smiled to herself, feeling flustered, but deep inside she knew that the girl only said that because of her duty as a guard, still, she didn’t care that moment.

The Queen sparked another conversation between them “Y/n, do you often find time to speak to the other guards?” She said, her tone laced with jealousy.

Y/n looked slightly embarrassed. “Not often, Your Majesty. My primary duty is to you, and I take that responsibility very seriously.”

As they strolled deeper into the garden, the Queen asked about her background, her family, and what drove her to become a place guard.

“You speak with so much conviction” the Queen observed “What drives you to such loyalty?”

“I believe in justice, your Highness. And i believe you uphold it as a ruler”

The Queen was touched by Y/n’s sincerity and finds herself sharing “ruling is not easy, you know? There are days where the weight of the crown becomes unbearable” she said with vulnerability.

Y/n looked at the Queen with compassion “Even the strongest rulers needs support, your Highness. You are a strong and just ruler, i wish for your majesty to never forget that.”

“That means more coming for you, Darling” the Queen smiled.

“I am here to serve you not just as a guard, but also as a friend, if you’d let me” the guard said with a small smile.

Although getting called as only “a friend” stung a bit, the Queen felt an unexpected warmth in her chest, a feeling of genuine connection as she gestured for the girl to take a seat on the bench “Your words bring me comfort, Darling. I did not realize how much I needed such honesty and support.”

They sat in silence as they watched the sun set, the Queen felt a new sense of peace and a weight lifted off her.

When it was time to depart the Queen hesitated before saying “Y/n, your presence brings me comfort in ways I find hard to express. You are more than just a guard to me.” right then and there, she was tempted to tell her what she really felt towards her, but it didnt feel like the right time.

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, a soft hue of pink dusted her cheeks “Your Majesty, I am deeply honored by your words. I never imagined my duty could mean so much to you.”

The Queen reached out, gently holding Y/n’s hands “It means more than you know. I hope you will continue to walk with me, not just as my guard, but as someone I can trust and confide in.” She said with hope.

“Of course, your Majes-“ y/n started.

“Bridget. Please call me Bridget” the Queen replied.

Y/n wanted to protest, but she recognised a certain vulnerability in the Queen’s voice and a new look of peace in her eyes, where the usual storm brewed, so she smiled and nodded her head.

“Of course, 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙩, i would be honoured to do this again” Y/n said with a comforting smile before leaving.

As they both walked back to their own respective quarters, both realised that they’re relationship has surpassed the Ruler and guard phase and passed onto something much deeper and profound.

That night the guard laid in her bed with a smile on her face and new feeling in her chest, making her giddy.

Meanwhile on the other side of the palace, the Queen laid in her bed, silently squealing at the progress she made with the guard she had been infatuated with for so long.

Both slept with a new yet deep understanding of each other.

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

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

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Seven)

Summary: After learning about your encounter with Cal, Tommy swiftly seeks out revenge for your brutal beating on your behalf. But after the dust settles from the days' harrowing events, Johnathan interrupts your quiet evening alone with Tommy. Fracturing your growing relationship beyond repair with his own selfishness.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence.

Word Count: 4550

Authors Note: £150 and £40 in 1924 is worth £7600 and £2000 in today's value.

Having dragged yourself to the safe confines of your bedroom before anyone saw the state Cal had left you in. You sat at your vanity, eyes welling with tears at the battered reflection of the person looking back at you.

How many times had you done this? you absently thought to yourself as you blinked through your tears. Fingers weakly stretching out for the powdery palette to conceal your fiance's sins.

And how many more times would you have to endure his heavy hand? your chest swelled with sorrow, pulling sharp breaths from your lungs until the dam opened and you were left hunched over the wooden table, grieving the fleeting happiness you were cruelly allowed to enjoy through strained sobs.

Anger for the hand you had been dealt in life, for the burdens of others you had to bare. You grabbed hold of the silver-plated comb on your vanity, throwing it with force at the glass mirror in front of you. Shattering the taunting reflection of the women in it, and the dreams she held for the future.

And just like times before, you raised your head with determination, summoning the last of your perseverance to continue on as you cleared your throat of any lingering emotions that dared to make themselves known. The mask you had let slip in Tommy's presence, now firmly fixed back in place.

"Enough" you scolded yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you as you pressed the puffy sponge into it's tightly compacted case. Patting the scented powder to your bruising cheek before heading downstairs.

Born into a duty of service to others, you had come to the realisation that no matter how much you screamed, how much you kicked your feet in protest, there was no escaping your life's responsibilities and the fate they held.

Your and Tommy's promise to each other, now suddenly words of misplaced passion. Only a small inconvenience, your heart would quickly bury under the fractures of life's hardships until nothingness. He was just a quick fling, just...

"Tommy..." your mouth parted, the whisper of his name mumbling past your lips as your fingers clutched fiercely onto the book grasped in your hand as you stepped around the corner of the wooden stairs to see him stood in the foyer, talking with a member of staff.

" Y/N..." his smitten eyes beamed with adoration as he excused himself from the conversation. The sight of you never failing to grab his full and undivided attention.

"Been looking for you" he caught up with your quickened pace as you swiftly tried to slip away from him seeing the bruises of violence that bore your skin.

"Bloody hell, slow down love " He chuckled as you silently paced the hallway to the back door of the house. Intent on avoiding any small talk or show of affection that would make the task in hand more torturous than it already was.

"Hey" he frowned, confused by your sudden silent treatment as his hand grabbed hold of the brassy handle of the door, stopping you from escaping his presence.

"You not gonna tell me how it went?" his stance hardened, his grip tightening around your only means of escape as you dipped your head, letting your hair fall around your face to conceal the swelling truth of your encounter with Cal.

" Fine. It went fine" you cleared your croaky voice of the bubbling emotions caught in your throat as Tommy's hand gently came up to brush the stray locks of hair from your face.

" What's a matter with you, eh?" He shuffled from one foot to the other as he turned your chin to face him, only to abruptly pull back when you flinched away from his concerned touch.

" What happened, Y/N?" His voice suddenly lowered into a gravelly demand, determined to know what had you so skittish.

"Nothing. Everything's fine, Tommy" you huffed with frustration, wanting to be free from his questions and the heaviness sitting on your chest.

" Fine, is it?" He scoffed, shaking his head at that scarcity of your reply and the years of knowledge he had gained to know that your chosen word of response was in fact, one far from its actual meaning.

"Yes fine, Tommy" you snapped, finding yourself matching his irritation as your brain scrambled to find another way to damage your lack of communication.

"I just...I just want to finish my book" you bluntly stated, your pathetic choice of excuse not enough to put your point across to Tommy's arched brow of bewilderment, when you abruptly let your tongue slip and delivered words purposely intended to hurt him.

" We don't have to spend every waking moment of the day together, Tommy" you provoked his feelings. Your tone of voice lacking in the softness you had shown him mere hours earlier.

" Why don't you bother someone else for a change, and stop harassing me for god sake!"

Was this your grand plan? Cruelly push him away without explanation, instead of revealing the burdens of your brother Cal was now blackmailing you with, you thought to yourself as a pang of guilt pooled in your stomach, your eyes sheepishly darting up to see the hurt flash across his face from the coldness your words bitterly stung him with.

" It's that what I am to you, eh? A fucking bother?" Tommy scoffed as his hands came to sit on his waist. The visible tension of upset, straining through the bone protruding through his chiseled jaw.

" Well then. Don't let me stop you from your reading, sweetheart" he gestured to the door. His scorned feelings taking the brunt of his dismissive reply as you clutched your book to your chest, eyes cast down with the pooling tears of shame you had unfairly inflicted.

" Excuse me" you pushed past his strong frame, fleeing before your lies revealed themselves through the sadness streaming down your cheeks.

" Fuck sake" Tommy sighed, running his hand down his face until the calloused pads of his fingers settled above his bottom lip, pinching it together in frustration as he watched you walk beyond the gardens of your home.

Confusion for your sudden change in behaviour and the lasting effect it had on his own stubbornness. Tommy briskly set off for the stables, determined to get to the bottom of things. Whether you liked it or not.

With no destination in mind, you stubbornly plodded through the thick mud of the fields behind your stately home, furiously wiping the tears that had settled on your cheeks when the galloping sound of muddy hooves steadily approached you from behind.

" Come on, get up. It's gonna rain" Tommy trotted in front of you on your white mare, looking up to the greying skies as he reached down for you to take his hand.

" It is, not" you stubbornly replied, irritated by the fact he had seemingly managed to tame your usually jumpy horse as a thunderous roar released itself from the clouds above you.

" Fine, have it your way. Come on girl" he clicked his booted heals against the horses muscled body, guiding her with tethered reigns to turn as he led her into a gallop in front of you.

" You, you..." words stumped you as a splattering of mud hit your freshly laundered dress while Tommy sharply turned to see his handy work with an amused smirk.

" You..." you continued to stutter as he trotted back, shifting in his saddle as he waited with curiosity to see if your slipping lady like demeanor would take one last, triumphant fall of grace.

" Go on, I dare you" he teased the words from behind your taught politeness.

" You pigheaded insufferable bastard!" You replied with a freeing gasp, succumbing to the use of vulgar profanities Tommy had purposely coaxed from you as he snorted a laugh.

" Idiot" you mumbled, eyes darting up to the cocky smirk of satisfaction riddled across his face as you scraped the sludge of your dress with the pages of your once pristine book.

" I think I preferred it when you were giving me the cold shoulder, darling" Tommy cleared his throat as another string of insults left your lips.

" Well, your influence has clearly awoken something in me. Something dark" you stormed off with a scorned face, as a glint of playfulness shone in your lover's eyes, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Right, you've had your little tantrum. Now come on" he called after you, throwing his leg over the horse as he jumped off.

"No!" You shouted back like a stroppy child as the sound of his muddied boots squelched through the thick sludge after you.

"Enough, Y/N. Now tell me what's wrong?" he demanded as he caught up with you, spinning you around by your waist to face him.

As your chest heaved with worry for the explanation you knew he was fairly owed, a sudden peppering of small droplets hit your cheeks, momentarily distracting you as you looked up to the darkened sky.

" Wha...what's that?" Tommy's brows knitted together, his grip tightening around your hips at the pigmented liquidy stream running down your face, revealing your reddened skin beneath. " Y/N?"

"Nothing, it's nothing" your hand came up to feel the powder you had applied now a watery substance at the ends of your fingers.

" Don't move" Tommy's voice ordered with urgency as he held you in place, licking the end of his thumb to brush the rest of your carefully concealed bruise exposed by the approaching storm rolling in.

" I'll kill him...I'll fucking kill him!" Tommy's voice roared as his eyes widened at the sight of the battered skin you had kept hidden from him.

" Tommy stop, wait!" You pleaded, scrambling for him as he turned to leave.

" What happened, Y/N?" He abruptly spun back around, grabbing you by your arms as the rage within him and the severity of his punishment for the bastard responsible waited on your response.

" I started it, Tommy. I hurt him first" you sobbed as your shaky hands pawed at his chest, trying to calm the anger within him you feared would turn on you like it had done so many times before with Cal.

"Hard enough to earn you a blow that's blackened your skin, eh Y/N?" His patience with you defending the man accountable, bitterly spat from his lips as a clap of thunder startled your jittery body.

" What else aren't you telling me?" Tommy shook you back to his attention as the heavens opened, and a peltering of rain stung your skin.

"Y/N, I'm not gonna ask twice" he insisted as your darting eyes met his piercing glare through the drenched locks of hair tousled in front of his eyes.

" Johnathan..." you swallowed your mounting tears, reluctant to share your family's troubles as Tommy nodded his head, urging you to continue before he tore the city apart and found the cunt himself.

" Johnathan owes over £900 to a man in Camden. He said he'll kill him if he doesn't pay it back by the end of the week..."

" Go on" he encouraged, wanting to hear the entirety of the ordeal that had you finding yourself at the mercy of your fiance's heavy hand.

"Cal...Cal, he knows about us, Tommy" your eyes pooled with tears as his jaw tightened with anger. Anger for himself and the little he had done to conceal your affair that hand landed you with a battered cheek.

" He said he will pay his debts, and save my brother's life. In return I marry him in three days time" you let the weight of your brother's burden fall from your lips as you stifled your sobs. Unable to meet the eyes of the man that had let you forget the woes of your life you had done your upmost to keep him from.

"Why didn't you come to me?" A pool of hurt sat in his stomach, unsettled by the notion you hadn't sought out his help and took a brutal beating instead.

"Hey. Why didn't you tell me?" his fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to face him.

"Because it's not your burden to bare. I...I can't...I don't expect anything from you Tommy" you wept as your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, holding onto to the comfort his strong frame gave you.

"Yes you can. You can, darling" his voice softened as his thumb brushed over your bruised skin.

"I'll deal with this. With all of it. You have my word" He reassured your worries, pulling you into his chest as he cradled your head against his thumping heart. A strained sigh of relief that he wasn't the root cause of your sudden change of emotion, releasing from his chest.

"Come on, let's go home, eh?"

Having handed the money to pay off the hefty debts of your brother later that day. Tommy had ventured out into the backstreets of his childhood home after receiving word from his men that the unlikely sight of a smartly dressed man had been seen lurking around Small Heath in search of business.

" And whose it we're looking for?" Arthur questioned, smoothing down the whispery edges of his moustache as he dodged the many potholes scattered along the grimy alleyways of Birmingham. "That posh prick?"

" Yeh, the prick..." Tommy's voice petered out, his eyes narrowing from person to person who had sought out the services the underworld of Small Heath had to offer.

" Tom, ay up" Arthur nodded to a dead end at the far side of the gully to Cal stood behind a tin dustbin, trousers bundled around his ankles, pushing the mouth of a renowned prostitute into his groin.

" Go home, the lot of you" Tommy's gravelly voice ordered, stood at the end of the alleyway with his hands sat comfortably in his trouser pockets as the evening's punters scattered from the dimly lit cobbled street around him.

" Not you" Tommy tutted to Cal pushing the woman's head off him as he scrambled to pull up his briefs.

" Go on Dottie, off with ya" Arthur gave the giggling raven-haired woman a light tap on the bum before sending her on her way with a bundle of notes.

" Well, well, well. I thought you were too good for our town, Mr Astor?" Tommy stalked towards him, watching him slick back his usually pristine cropped hair from his face.

"Thought I'd try out the local delicacies. If they're good enough for you...well, I'm sure I can make an exception for myself. Men of the same taste, hm Shelby?" Cal casually remarked as he pulled a cigar from his suit jacket, his comment that of a man trying to diffuse the precarious situation he now found himself in. An unsuitable and stupid occasion to confront him about his affair with you.

"Try all you like. Plenty to go around, ey Arthur?" Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the nervously darting pair of eyes in front him, watching them come to the satisfying realisation that the alleyway was now deserted.

"An abundance" Arthur gestured to the empty street. It's eery quietness enough to prickle the skin of any intruder unaccustomed to its foreboding darkness.

"But make no mistake, Mr Astor. We're not the same. I've never laid my hand on a woman" Tommy's voice spoke with disgust as Cal's eyes snapped to him, a breathy chuckle of nervousness for his brutal assault on you having been discovered.

" Your whore deserve..." Cal spat, only to have his vapid words of an excuse quietened with a heavy blow to the cheek when Tommy's fingers curled into a fist, knocking him to the ground in one perfectly aimed blow to his face.

Scrambling for air, Cal desperately kicked his feet against the muddy stoned path as Tommy loomed over him. Submerging his reddening face through gritted teeth, and strained veins into one of the many murky watered craters.

" Ey, wakey wakey!" Tommy pulled him up against the stoned wall, slapping his muddy cheek to bring him out of the darkness he'd slipped into.

" I'm curious, Cal" Tommy bent down, pulling his head up by the scruff of his neck as Cal's lungs desperately gasped for air.

"How does it feel knowing I was fucking your wife to be as you stood outside her door?" Tommy's smile curled into a wicked grin of enjoyment as he watched his squirming face of jealously.

"Quite the screamer, nearly got us caught" Tommy toyed with him, relishing at the sight of him learning a cutthroat gangster was the only one to have ever given you pleasure.

"Not that you would know, eh? You just take what you want, what you think you're owed. And if you don't get your way...well, you start throwing fists, don't you, Cal?" His grasp tightened around his collar, ringing the air from his lungs.

" Not very gentlemanly. Ladies always come first" Arthur straightened his back, fancying himself a man of importance more than the scum at his feet.

"Of that you're right, brother" Tommy's piercing stare honed in on at the quivering man under his mercy.

"You look concerned, Mr Astor" Tommy cocked his head to the side as Cal's lip trembled in fear at the sharp blade sewn into the peaked cap inches from his face.

" Maybe you should cut him a smile, Tom? Cheer the poor bastard up" Arthur sniggered, tauntingly kicking the end of his pristine dress shoes now covered in the land of the lower class.

" You're right, Arthur. Let's give him something to smile about" Tommy's eyes glazed over with an unstoppable duty of revenge as he pulled his cap from his head, the teasing sharpness of the blade catching the light of the glowing street lamp as it swung in front of him.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen please, I beseech you..."

"Hear that, Arthur? We're gentlemen now" Tommy scoffed a laugh at the pathetic plea for help, his blade seconds from delivering his retribution.

" Fuck your fancy titles" Arthur found a deep-rooted hatred upon hearing his begging as he spat at the feet of the man that had undoubtedly dodged numerous battles of war his money could buy.

" Now, what do we have here?" a police officer's timely appearance appeared in the opening of the alleyway, baton in hand.

" Scrapping, are we lads?" the officer's brows raised upon seeing the two Shelby men who paid him a generous sum of money to look the other way. But not enough to deal with the headache that would come with the swarm of journalists that would descend onto Small Heath to inquire about the gruesome death of a socialite.

" Boys will be boys" Arthur playfully raised his arms in surrender, a mischievous smirk of deceit toying on the corner of his lips.

" Right, move along" the police officer ordered, taping his black rod of punishment that had seen the back of every criminal's knees in town against the red-bricked wall.

" Keep an eye out, eh Cal? While you can" Tommy's deadly threat quietly warned as he stood up, adjusting his tweed crown firmly back on his head.

" Welcome to Small Heath, Mr Astor" Tommy called out as he and Arthur slipped out of the backstreets into the night.

" Toffs" the officer looked down at the unwelcome visitor before returning to his rounds with a whistling tune.

Unprotected, left to fend for himself in the streets belonging to those that held nothing but hatred for the man that looked down on them. Cal swiftly made a dash for safety through the winding alleyways of unknown territory. Knowing that at any wrong turn, he could see a smiling blade of vengeance come down on his face.

"Whiskey?" you asked, turning to Tommy later that evening stood with his hand resting the weight of his body on the back of an armchair in your shared living room as his eyes scanned over the letter he had recieved on his return from Small Heath.

" Yeh" he absently replied, nose deep in the document and its cementing conclusion of your shared ordeal as you strolled towards him.

" Looks important" you noted, handing him the glass tumbler of liquor as he folded the typed paper into his suit pocket, a look of concern for how the news would effect your growing relationship, etched between his brows.

" Just business" he replied, snaking his arm around your waist as he pulled you in, pressing an urgent kiss to your lips, rich with notes of spice and vanilla from his favourite beverage.

" Business. Do you ever rest, Mr Shelby?" you pulled away from the lure of his intoxicating embrace as you arched a brow.

" How can I with you around, eh?" he smirked into your mouth, taking the crystal glass of whiskey from your hand as his tongue swiped against yours with wanton need.

Trailing his hands under the loose fabric of your flowing summer dress, Tommy guided you backwards until your legs hit the plush pillows of the upholstered settee, when the door flew open and a giggling Johnathan came stumbling.

Fuck sake.

" Johnathan" Tommy huffed, begrudgingly pulling himself away from you as he adjusted his growing desire to have you bent over the arm of the sofa, moaning his name. "Whiskey?"

" A double, old chap" he slurred, fumbling in his pockets for a cigar as his unsteady footing swayed from side to side, causing a bundle of notes to fall from his tailored jacket as your eyes widened with concern.

" Johnathan" you pulled him to the side in a hushed voice as he stumbled to pick up the heavy stack of notes sitting on the polished floor.

" What have you done?" you demanded to know through gritted teeth, grabbing the rolled banknotes from his hand.

" Nothing" he snapped back, as he searched for his lighter. His huffing breath, stinking of champagne and tobacco. Hammered, absolutely hammered.

"Where did you get this? Tell me?" your heart began to race as you watched his lazy fingers struggle to light the cigar between his teeth.

"It's only £150, sissy. Now stop badgering me. You're starting to sound like Grannie" he quietly brushed off your concerns as Tommy watched the hushed conversation from across the room, slowly stalking towards you.

" From the money Tommy gave you to pay your debts?" the realisation hit you as a sickly feeling rose in your chest at the thought of him double-crossing not only a man responsible for crimes beyond your imagination, but a man you fallen head over heels for.

" Johnathan, there's only £40 here" your fingers quickly flicked through the banknotes missing more than one third of it's total sum, as your brother slumped down into the chair next to you.

" My god...you gambled it away" your eyes suddenly welled with tears for the hopelessness you felt pooling in your stomach and the betrayal of trust you suddenly felt. " Tommy paid your debts, and you...you..."

" Y/N?" Tommy's gruff voice rumbled your name as he stood feet from you, the heat of his stare piercing through the back of your head.

"Tommy..." you mumbled as you turned to see the look of disgust for feeling fooled by you and your brother harden his face, having come to his own conclusion as to what your conversation and handling of money was about.

" Tommy, wait!" you raced after him as his thudding footsteps turned to leave before he let the last of his patience with your family's troubles slip into a violent outburst.

" You've been playing me, haven't you? Playing on my affections for you?!" Tommy snapped back to you with a pointing finger of misplaced accusations.

" Wha.. No. No!" Your eyes brimmed with tears as he pushed your once welcome touch forcibly away.

" Was this your plan all along, eh? Tell me your little sob story, so I'd pay your fucking brother's debts off and line your pockets?!" Tommy's voice boomed throughout the foyer as he grabbed hold of the sides of your cheeks, his blood pumping with rage for the scam he was convinced you were both mutually in on.

" You think I'd do that to you?" your lip wobbled as your shaky fingers gingerly reached out for his burning face, reddened with fury for the betrayal he felt.

" My brother's weaknesses are not shared, Tommy. They're not mine" you wept through the sobs caught in your throat.

" Just leave, Y/N. Get out of my house, both of you" he pulled your hands off him in fear he'd succumb to the blazing fire of anger you had ignited in him and tarnish the memories of the time he'd foolishly spent on you. The love he foolishly felt for you.

" This is my home too!" you sniffed back your cries as you defensively straightened your back against his demands.

" That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. Arrow House is mine" he quickly corrected you as he pulled the letter he had kept you from seeing only moments before from his pocket.

"Lawyer drafted a new copy after my meddling Aunt and your Grandmother decided it was best kept from me" he let the document fall into your hands as your eyes darted across the neatly typed words.

" I've no where to go" you tearfully looked up to see him stood watching your pleading eyes, his anger with your deception eclipsing any pity he once had for you.

"That's not my problem, is it?" Tommy's voice snapped, turning away before he let himself fall into the beckoning trap of your weeping sobs.

"Now leave, Miss Y/L/N. Leave my house" he ordered once more as he turned his back to you, his stubborn scorned heart abandoning you to a frightful destiny and your only remaining choice of survival.

" Saturday then?" Cal's bandaged hand snaked over your shoulder as you sat at the bay window of your grandmother's small cottage the next day.

" Yes" you quietly replied, as your reddened eyes blinked through the last of your tears you had cried since fleeing your childhood home.

" Good girl" he praised, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before turning to leave with the guarantee of your future now in his hands.

" Grannie" he bid your grandmother goodbye with a cunning smirk of satisfaction.

As her eyes welled with tears for the unstoppable hands of times honing in. Her aged fingers, marked with browning spots of wisdom, clutched tightly around her cane as she looked up to the framed picture of a woman dressed in a sequinned gown sitting on her mantle.

" I'll get to the bottom of this, my dear. Mark my words" Grannie quietly promised the woman in the picture that had sacrificed her last dying breaths to keep her only granddaughter from a life unworthy of living. Your mother.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium

@peakyswritings @tiedyedghoulette @mostly-marvel-musings @classygirlything21 @dana-rmz

@mrsnms

[shizuturnspages]

PLEASE hear me out yan ajaw whether hes taken over kinich or made a contract with us like kinich has POTENTIAL and ill DIE ON THIS HILL

and if its the latter u can annoy him and he cant do shit we finna become a bully with this one

... how about both?

I LOVE YOUR IDEA SM.

Let's have Ajaw be the one in control for one sec, and be a victim of our bullying the next sec

Ajaw Taking Over Kinich

❥ When Ajaw takes over Kinich, you’re no longer dealing with just a yandere—now you’ve got this ancient being level of possessiveness wrapped in Kinich’s body. His obsession? Fucking amplified. Ajaw doesn’t just want you—he needs you like a force of nature, like the sun fucking needs to rise. You’re not just a person to him; you’re his divine claim. And this isn’t some subtle obsession—Ajaw’s got that “I will literally destroy worlds if you leave me” kind of energy. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.

❥ Kinich might still be in there somewhere, but Ajaw’s taken over, and he’s using Kinich’s love for you to fuel his own fucking twisted desires. Imagine that—Kinich still loves you, but it’s buried under Ajaw’s possessive rage, and that makes this shit even more terrifying. Ajaw’s merciless, and Kinich’s gentle nature is just another weapon to get you to submit. One minute you’re being coaxed in softly by Kinich’s memories, the next? Ajaw’s locking you away, claiming you’re his and only his. Forever.

❥ With Ajaw in control, you’re untouchable—but it comes with a fucking price. You belong to him, and he’s going to make sure everyone knows it. This isn’t just regular protection—it’s on a divine level. Anyone who even looks at you? Gone. He’ll bring down the full force of his godly power to keep you safe, and if that means erasing threats from existence? So be it. You’re his, and he’ll ensure no one ever comes between you, even if it means sacrificing the world to keep you close.

Ajaw’s Contract with You

❥ In this scenario, Ajaw’s not taking over Kinich—he’s making a contract with you. And let’s be real, he didn’t want this shit. He’s a powerful, ancient entity, and now he’s bound to you, someone who’s more than happy to mess with him at every turn. And he can’t do shit about it. You’re his contracted partner, and he’s supposed to be controlling the situation, but you’ve turned the tables. He’s stuck, and you’re having the time of your fucking life making him squirm.

❥ Now that Ajaw’s bound to you, he’s technically at your command—but he’s not happy about it. You can push his buttons, tease him, and get under his skin in ways no one else could dare. He’s used to being worshipped, feared, and obeyed. But you? You’re treating him like a toy, poking fun at his divine powers and reminding him he’s stuck with you. And that pisses him off in the best way. He tries to act all cold and detached, but deep down? You’re the one driving him fucking crazy.

❥ The more you tease him, the more fucking obsessed he gets. Ajaw isn’t used to someone who doesn’t cower in front of him, and that only makes his obsession burn hotter. He tries to keep control, tries to act like h.e’s the one in charge, but you keep flipping the script. You bully him, annoy him, and he can’t do shit to stop it. And the worst part for him? He likes it. You’re the only one who challenges him, the only one who doesn’t fall in line, and it fucking drives him wild.

❥ You know those moments when you’re really pissing him off, and he wants to punish you but can’t? That’s where the petty god shit comes in. He’ll try to get back at you in the most ridiculous ways—subtly messing with your day-to-day life, making things inconvenient, like blocking the sun for a few hours or causing minor natural disasters just to make you mad. But the more he tries to assert dominance, the more you push back. You two are in a constant back-and-forth, and honestly? It’s fucking hilarious.

❥ Even though you’re bullying the hell out of him, Ajaw’s possessiveness never fucking fades. If anyone else tries to get close to you? Oh, they’re fucking gone. He might be bound to your contract, but he’ll still pull some divine shit to make sure no one else gets near you. And deep down, you know he’s obsessed. No matter how much you tease him, at the end of the day, Ajaw’s burning need for you is so intense it practically consumes him. You hold all the cards, but fuck, does he love playing your game.

[melolord14]

For All Eternity

Lady Dimitrescu x Female reader

Notes: I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. This is a rather sorrowful piece. While I may not be an established writer or someone whose work you are familiar with, I hope you will consider reading what I have to offer.

Masterlist

Warning: Angst

Part 2

Summary: you don’t get one! Find out if you dare!

You were finally home. After a long day at Donna's, filled with endless conversations and discussions, you were back where you belonged. You couldn't wait to see Alcina, your fiancée, the woman you had been engaged to for two blissful months. The thought of marrying the love of your life, the person you would cherish for all eternity, filled your heart with joy and anticipation.

As you walked through the familiar hallways of your home, each step bringing you closer to your bedroom, you suddenly heard what sounded like moans. A wave of confusion and disbelief washed over you. No, she wouldn't cheat on you. She couldn't.

"Please, I'm close. Keep going. Faster," you heard her voice, unmistakably Alcina's, pleading.

"Well then, I can't deny you that. You can have me instead of her if you call off the wedding," another voice replied, one you didn't recognize.

A maiden? Really? This couldn't be happening. The shock and betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. You thought she loved you. You thought—no, you couldn't think anymore. You needed to leave, but a small part of you clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe there was still hope left. But that hope was cruelly extinguished when she uttered those final words. "I'll call off the wedding.”

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. The pain was unbearable. You couldn't stay in this place that once felt like home. It was no longer a sanctuary, but a prison of heartbreak. You walked to the library, each step heavier than the last. You took off your engagement ring with trembling hands and gently placed it on the table. You pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a note for the girls. How you hated that you couldn't say goodbye face to face. You loved them dearly, you did. They were your daughters, and leaving them behind was the hardest part.

With one last look at the life you had built, you turned and left, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoed through the empty halls. The place you once called home was now just a memory, a painful reminder of a love that was never meant to be.

"I thought we had forever," you whispered to yourself, the words hanging in the air like a ghost of what could have been. "How did it come to this?"

"Goodbye, my love," you murmured, your voice breaking. "Goodbye, my daughters. I hope you understand one day."

As you entered the night, the cool breeze kissed your tear-streaked face. "This is not the end," you told yourself, trying to muster some semblance of strength. "This is just a new beginning."

But deep down, you knew that a part of you would always stay behind, in that room, with the woman you thought you knew, and the family you had to leave behind.

You ran and ran until there it was—the cliff's edge. That's all you need to do. Jump, and your life would end just like that. You stepped forward, looking down at the water below. What else could you do? You took a step, then another. You were close to the edge. Shutting your eyes, you tried to close the memories with them, hoping to lock them away forever. A tear slid down your cheek, the pain of that tear no less than the pain of living. You took that final step, and it was all over. The wind rushed through your hair, and your body fell from a great height.

You got closer and closer to the water below until suddenly, you froze in mid-air. You were surprised and confused. You looked off to the side to see her—the black goddess, Mother Miranda, staring at you with her piercing blue eyes.

"Stupid girl. Why would you jump off a cliff? Are you wishing for death?" she asked, her voice a mix of scorn and concern. "Now, why don't you go back to Alcina? I'm sure she is looking for you, little one."

Mother Miranda's words cut through the haze of your despair. She brought you gently to the ground, making you stand in front of her. You felt the solid earth beneath your feet, but the ground beneath your heart felt like quicksand.

"She doesn't care," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "She doesn't want me, Mother." Your voice cracked, and the dam holding back your emotions broke. You fell to your knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Mother Miranda watched you, her expression unreadable. She didn't want to admit that she had a soft spot for you. Hell, she loved you like a daughter, though she wouldn't admit it. She knelt beside you, her presence a mix of stern authority and unexpected warmth.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice softer now, almost tender. "You are stronger than this. You are worth more than the love or indifference of one person. Alcina may have made mistakes, but that does not diminish your value. Stand up, little one. Face your pain, do not run from it."

Her words resonated within you, a spark of hope in the darkness. You looked up at her, tears still streaming down your face. "But what if she never wants me back? What if I'm truly alone?"

"You are never truly alone," Mother Miranda replied, her eyes softening. "As long as you have the strength to stand and the courage to face your fears, you will always find your way. And remember, you have me. I may be harsh, but I care for you more than you know."

Using her magic to take you both home, you still held onto Miranda tightly. The journey was swift, and soon you found yourself back in the familiar warmth of your home. You sat on the couch with her, feeling the comfort of her presence. You lay down on the couch, resting your head in her lap. Her fingers gently combed through your hair, a soothing gesture that calmed your racing thoughts.

Miranda's voice was soft and tender as she whispered sweet things to you. "You're safe now, my little bird," she murmured, her words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "Mama's here. I'll always protect you."

The emotions of the day caught up with you, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. You cried yourself to sleep, the gentle rhythm of her voice and the caress of her fingers lulling you into a deep slumber.

"Sleep well, my little bird," she whispered as she carefully lifted you and carried you to the guest room, which she had already decided would soon be your room. She laid you down gently, tucking you in with a loving smile. "Mama's got you," she said, her voice filled with unwavering affection.

She kissed your forehead, a tender gesture of reassurance, and quietly left the room, leaving you to rest peacefully, knowing you were safe and loved.

[maximumkillshot]

"I Can't Lose You" Part 6

Warnings: Aftermath of a miscarriage, descriptions of grief due to losing a baby, Angry Everyone, Death is mentioned, Wanting Death, Shock, Grief, PTSD Flashback, Panic, there is a parallel to a person jumping off a bridge (NOT ACTUALLY)

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters:  Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Ok if you read the above, you'll notice that anger is in the warnings. This is the first half of a chapter that had me crying as I wrote it. This is something that you all need to take into consideration... I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE ONCE AGAIN. My asks are always open for you guys to vent about this one.

Also remember, this is a fanfic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

He was mad at himself at those thoughts, Chris was so clearly into you so he used Bin’s insecurities against him… and it had worked. He thought about how all of this wouldn’t have happened and you and him would be happy together. That’s all he ever wanted for you. That was why he let you go in the first place. He wanted you to be happy.

After about half an hour of hushed talking, while Bin kept you relaxed, a set of footsteps walked down the hall. Just hearing them, Bin’s ears perked up. They had an authority to them, almost pompous in nature. Commanding… he knows those steps.

Now:

The minute Minho saw who it was entering the room his whole body went rigid, his hands in fists at his side as he got up and used his body to block whoever it was. He motioned for the boys to get closer to the bed. All of them standing, ready to jump. 

“Just let me talk to her,” Bin’s vision started getting blurry, on the verge of blacking out with rage. He looked down to you, very unbothered by the sudden voice that assaulted the tranquility of the room. The first tranquil moment you've had in months. Months of your husband hiding and sneaking. And months of you planning and working excitedly making every detail perfect. 

Bin made a split-second decision to lightly cover your ear that wasn't to his chest. Trying to prolong the inevitable. 

Next up was Han as he said in a hushed tone, “she’s finally asleep. You are not coming in this room, Chris.” His tone was dark and that one sentence rolled off of his tongue like a warning. 

“She’s my wife. I am going to see her whether you like it or not.” He sounded annoyed. Like this was an inconvenience. Bin did everything in the book to calm his heart, which was starting to spike at just hearing his voice. 

Bin went on an internal tirade, how dare he come here? Killing your child wasn't enough? Making you so stressed out that you almost bled to death wasn't enough? Ripping your heart out and trampling it… not enough for him? NOOO let's show up when it's convenient, when no one expects it, playing the 'husband' card. When Bin knew he CLEARLY gave up that title already. 

Especially when you did everything to be available for him. When he started to pull away you came to Bin and Han in tears, not knowing what to do. You love him so much that you actively went to find out what it was. Was it your weight? Did you talk too much or not enough? Did you ask for too much? Did you seem too boring? He has already been enough of a plague on your life already. 

Minho giggled darkly, “You really want to die today, huh? Did you not hear Han, she’s resting. Now go away.” 

“Not until I see her.” His voice raised slightly. The bite in his voice made Minho want to strangle him, to be honest. He doesn’t have any entitlement to you. Especially after what he’s done. As far as what Minho thinks, Chris was never your husband. No husband neglects their wife. No husband makes their wife lay awake at night, worried about if he had eaten or not, or if she’d even see him when she woke up. 

That was enough for you to stir on Bin’s chest. Bin had to think quickly as he said "It's okay, go to sleep, Angel. I'm here," in the most delicate whisper. That was enough to knock you out again, humming against his chest. 

Chris pulled back the curtain, even though Han and Minho tried their best to get him away. At that point, I.N, who was the closest to Chan, blocked him from your bedside.

“Get away from her.” He whispered, “She’s too fragile right now.”

Chris just looked at I.N. and said, “No one is keeping me from my wife, you’re lucky I even went along with it for this long. I’m not going to wake her.”

The venom in Chan's voice made the hair on Bin’s neck and arms raise. Not out of fear, no he could snap Chris in half if he was pissed off enough. His hair raised out of anger and knowing he couldn't do anything about it. The fact that Chan had the audacity to come into that room after what he did, knowing that you are fragile. That you barely made it out, and even now, you aren’t completely out. Yet there he was trying to force himself in. Like he had a right to be there, even though he was the one that caused it. 

I.N looked at Han and Han signaled him to let it go. 

Han knew that he was right, none of them had spousal rights. So technically Chris can kick them out, especially because she is still so weak, she can’t fend for herself or be able to sternly say ‘get out’ to her husband, not without consequences. They had no other choice. 

Bin looked at Chan as he took a seat next to the bed, taking in your sleeping form. His heart was breaking at seeing how weak you looked. Your cheeks were slightly sunken in and your face was completely pale. The dark circles dominated your eyes, making your face look more like a mummy as opposed to a living breathing person. He looked at your arm with a blood bag hooked to it. When he looked up at Bin he could see that it took everything in Bin’s body not to kill him.

Bin just mouthed to him, “What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” The more that he looked at Chan the more he wanted to rip him apart. He looked well rested, smelled like he showered, hell he even did his hair. That pissed Changbin off. You’d think that he would at least look more disheveled. Given, he could see that he did look worried and sad. He didn’t look guilty. 

Chris just ignored him and kept looking at you. Chris was transfixed on you. He was even more transfixed by your hold on Changbin. You looked like you were cuddling your favorite teddy bear. He remembered the last time you held him like that. Yesterday morning, when he came home to sleep for two hours, the minute the bed dipped you subconsciously reached for him, and he slightly rolled his eyes as he succumbed to his fate, smile on his face. You sighed so happily, you mumbled, ‘Mhmm missed you, love you,’ as you kissed his bare chest, and just like you’re positioned now, you were asleep. Now seeing you holding Bin like that makes jealousy more prominent in his mind. 

It makes him sick to think about all of this as he plays with his wedding ring, thinking about not feeling you again, your hugs, your breath on his skin. The moans that’d he pull out of you, soothing his soul. The looks that’d make his heart stop. The giggle that’d be forced out even if you were mad. Not having the feeling of your skin on his, these thoughts make him want to die. He’s trying to actively ignore it. He’s trying to ignore the fact that he did something so disgusting, so unforgivable that he lost you. For him, it’s easier to be angry, angry and convinced that you’ll come back. That’s why he is doing what he is doing. That’s why he walked with bravado into that room.

He went to put some hair behind your ear just to have some contact and I.N’s hand flew out and wrapped his hand around his wrist. His jaw set. Bin wanted to do the exact same but it’d jolt you.  

I.N. growled “No.. touching… get out of the room,” his brows furrowed, his usually soft eyes looking more like a piercing gaze. 

Being the maknae, he has never challenged Chan before… At all. There’s a good reason as to why he is challenging him right now. Innah has always felt like he was awkward. He didn’t really know where he belonged in the team. Yes, he has a good voice and yes he’s good with choreography but he never really hung out with people other than Seungmin and Felix. 

You being the person you are, you figured it out. He was watching one day, just seeing all of the members interacting, some of the older ones trying to bring him into the fold but it seemed ingenuine to him. Like he was the little brother that had to be included or Dad would get mad. You truly found the things that he loved interesting, really talked to him, and made him feel safe and welcomed. 

There was one particularly hard night for him. Nothing went right that day and he was tired, frustrated, and needed to feel safe. He didn’t know where to go or who to go to. So he called you without knowing why. You picked up and the minute he heard your voice he started crying. You ran to his dorm. No one else was home, and of course, Chan was nowhere in sight. So you stood with him, talked, and cooked a midnight dinner with him. Got him to laugh, you both passed out on the couch after watching some anime.

After that night that no one knows about except the boys in the Danceracha house, I.N. was just like Hyunjin, except he’d do drive-by hugs, sometimes just falling on you giggling and looking for hugs and head scratches, like the fox he is. There were other times when he would just stand behind you, put his chin on the top of your head and say, “What are we doing here Y/N/N…. I am BORED” as he’d flop on you, “Let’s get Ramyeon.” You’d laugh and say, “How about this… you get through today… and Ramyeon’s on me.” He still smiles at those memories.

So of course, I.N. would fight King Kong if he had to if it meant protecting you. 

Now, seeing Jeongin doing this, standing up to Chan, just to protect you, his Noona,  made everyone that wasn’t Chan smile. 

Chan stood up to his full height and said, “I just want to be here for her,” with a tight lip at the challenge of the maknae of his team. Chan can’t take the disrespect anymore. Even though he knows that he more than deserves to be treated like this and worse, he is still in that limbo of trying to convince himself that this didn’t actually happen or worse, that he can fix it.

Bin felt your grip tighten on him…

You said to yourself that you didn’t just hear that voice. You squeezed your eyes shut as you wiggled up a bit to bury your face into Bin's neck. You didn’t want the boys to see you cry. 

The cologne you just smelled when you were on Bin's chest, that was Chan’s cologne. The voice you just heard, that was Chan’s voice. There was a war going on in your head. Do you talk to him? Can you talk to him? What do you say? What does HE have to say?

“Y/N?” Chan said as his body snapped to you. Seeing you now burrowed into Bin’s neck and chest. 

It made the jealousy that he had before start to boil. That’s his wife, after all. Chan was your safety. He was the one you run to, not Changbin, of all people. Why does he fit so well next to you? Why does the feeling of you slipping away elicit anger at others, not himself? Why did he see you buried in Bin’s neck and not his own? It felt to him like someone was touching his favorite toy without permission. Why did she go to Bin for comfort and not him? 

“Y/N, Baby?” He asked a little louder…

“Stop calling me that,” you responded to him, muffled by Bin’s neck as you cried in your own dark cocoon, that was what you imagined when in Bin’s neck. Surrounded by him, he’d never let anyone near close. He was your safety bubble. 

Bin just moved his hand up to pet your hair back as you fought with yourself. 

The only one who knew you were crying was Bin, who felt your tears on his neck. They felt like acid on his skin, he could feel the pain through them, the fear, the rejection, the grief. He hated seeing or feeling you cry. The fact that you were comfortable enough to trust him with your fragility was the only solace in this for him. He knew that no one could protect you more than he could. That’s exactly what he’s going to do, protect you. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered as he turned his face into you, trying to hide as much of your face as he could, to give you more shelter to cry in. He hated that you had to go through this. You would think that for even one second his bonehead bandmate would put his own ego aside for just one fucking day to give you the room you desperately needed. It’s not even like he could make the excuse of thinking that you are going through it alone. It’s clear that you aren’t, Bin always took care of you. Sometimes Chan thought that it was the perfect deal for himself. He was married to you, so obviously you wouldn’t betray him, and Bin was so in love with you that he’d move Heaven and Earth for you. So Chan being distracted was never the issue, Bin was always there. In his head Bin was like a Knight protecting the Queen in a chess game. The king doesn’t have to worry about the Queen. 

Bin’s tone with you was gentle,“You tell me to get him out and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” His face read danger, eyes never leaving Chris.

You really didn’t know what to do. You are at a loss really. You just got about half an hour in nearly 30+ hours of being awake. One thing you do know is that you are feeling your pain uptick at the thought of leaving Bin’s neck. 

“Please, let me talk to you,” Chris pleaded with you. He tried to touch you.

Jeongin stopped him again, gripping his wrist. His grip was bruising in strength this time, “She did not say you could touch her. So you are keeping your hand to yourself. Either that or I rip it off, understand?”

Bin’s jaw was tight, if Chris made one more move, Bin was going to gently switch out with Seungmin, just to murder Chris, then switch out again so you could sleep, very simple. 

“At least let me see your face, Baby,” Chris said as he yanked his hand from I.N’s grip. 

Then you spoke again… your tone now carrying an authoritative air, “I told you not to call me that fucking name. I heard it enough when you were fucking her in our bed. Take that name and shove it, Chris.” 

“As for seeing my face, you don’t deserve to see it after what you did to me. Neither of you deserve to see my face.”

“Give us the room,” Chan ordered. He was doing his best to keep his composure and to try to gauge how much control he lost of the group. He is very much aware of the fact that the power dynamic has changed. Chan knows that they don’t even respect him, let alone trust him. Another thing that he knows is that he would feel the same way.

He’s also embarrassed, not at what he’s done but at the fact that his members found out. The fact that he was caught with his pants down, both literally and figuratively. The fact that his members watched him do something so amoral was something that he was pissed off about. Not as much at the fact that he had no moral compass, but it was the fact that they reacted the way they did. They screamed at him, Chris, Bang Chan, their elder. They challenged his authority left and right. The fact that they’re rebelling only added fuel to the fire. He wanted, needed to get control back. 

As far as he was concerned, this was all something that he could come back from. You love him, right? So obviously you’ll come back. You sunk 5 years into him, of course you’ll be back. There was far too many decent memories for you to check out now. You’re hurt, demoralized, angry, yes. However, knowing the peacekeeper you are, you’ll be back, he knows it. Why can’t they see that, why can’t they fight for him just as hard as they are fighting for you. Why can’t they get their noses out of his marriage and watch some K-Drama like they always do instead of driving a wedge further in between himself and his wife. 

The frustration alone made him want to lose his composure. Everyone has their role, that is something he is an avid believer in. To you, Chan is the protector, he’s the one to chase all the bad things away, he is your husband. Changbin is your friend, nothing more. So it drove Chan crazy to see you relax in Bin’s arms. 

He felt like Bin had no business in a bed with you. It being completely lost on him that he did the same thing, but worse with his wife’s best friend. Bin is not there to sexually gratify you, he is there to hold whatever’s left of you together. 

Bin is trying desperately to reassure you, to look at all of your broken pieces and help you, to let you know that he won’t let Chris close enough to hurt you again. 

When Chris ordered everyone to give him the room, not one person moved a muscle. All they did was look at you, waiting for an answer. 

Bin whispered to you, “Do you want us to leave?” Internally he was praying that you wouldn’t want him to go. He as well as the rest of the boys don’t trust Chris as far as they can throw him. 

You shook your head, “Can’t take it.” You knew that there would be no way that you could have this conversation alone, you’d be right back to square one. If you were honest there isn’t a way you can see this going well. You are still really weak. You can’t do much of anything at all yet, even needing help shifting in your own bed. Not to mention the person who did it to you is demanding an audience with you like you didn’t just go through a near-death experience and is barking orders at your boys. You couldn’t even scream at him for that. 

Bin looked at the boys and said, “We aren’t going anywhere, Y/N’s orders.”

With that all of the boys had a seat, smiles on their faces as if to say try us, we dare you. 

Chan’s face turned hard at that. It was worse than he thought… Not only did he lose control, he handed all of it over to you on a silver platter. Chan is an A personality type. He is very particular, one of those places he’s particular about is that he is the Alpha. He is the leader, the spearhead. So for everyone to do this, made him not only mad, but scared. He isn’t used to not being in control. That made his tone harsh as he barked,“Look, I know that you are in pain and I know that you don’t even want to see me right now, but we need to talk in private.”

Immediately I.N. bristled and took a step to him, Minho getting up and claiming the bottom half of the bed, looming on the post of it, glaring at Chan.

Felix growled, “Watch your tone, you aren’t the one calling the shots, Chris.” as he bore daggers into Chris’ forehead, standing at the ready. 

You didn’t respond and Chan said something that made your blood boil,something he knew you couldn’t ignore, “It was mine too.”

It..IT?! Your heart cracked again as you left your cocoon, “IT?!” You raised your voice. You winced at the pain the movement caused. “MY child was not an IT… THEY WERE HERE CHRIS.” You grabbed your stomach, feeling your diaphragm scream at you to be quiet, your abdominals agreeing full-heartedly. “YOU gave up ANY parentage by fucking someone else when we were trying to have a baby for TWO FUCKING YEARS!”

“WHAT?!” Han exclaimed. Han started to see red, yet again… Han thought to himself, They were trying to have a baby for 2 years?!. Han looked briefly at everyone else, their faces set in the same murderous stare that resided on Han. 

Meanwhile, Bin didn’t let that sink in, he was too busy noticing you started looking slightly confused and woozy. Whatever little color you had was turning more grey by the second.

“Y/N you need to breathe,” Bin tried to remind you. He tried his best to guide you back down but you weren't having it. Your anger taking control. He had a sinking feeling as his own heartrate picked up.

You thought for a few minutes and said, “I still can’t believe it, you know? It’s like last night was a horrible nightmare but, the pain, the blood… It really happened. My baby is really gone.” A stray tear ran down your face, “I don’t want to believe it. It hurts too much. But my body knows. It feels different. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t… I can’t…”

Bin was watching your heart rate, the last time you tried to revisit this, you had to be sedated and apparently, Han is thinking the same thing. He looked at the monitors and got a bad feeling. 

“I just wanted to surprise you, to show you how much I love you! To let you know that I am there for you and you repay me by emotionally cheating on me with my BEST FRIEND for a YEAR and physically cheating for two whole months?! NOW YOU WANT A PRIVATE CONVERSATION?! How is this for a private conversation.” You felt your body starting to fail again. The rage coursing through you is the only thing keeping you aware of your surroundings. 

Chan went to look away, he couldn’t see you hurting this much. He couldn’t come to the realization that he did this to you. You screamed with what little energy you had , “LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKING COWARD!” as you held your stomach, trying to control the new waves of pain.

When he looked at you, you said, “Here’s a little private conversation for you. I’m granting your wish. You said to her ‘I can’t wait to leave her’... Guess what?” You gritted out, “I’m leaving you!” you started spiraling back into what happened not even a full 24 hours ago at repeating his sentence back to him. Hearing those same words in your head, seeing the blood, the reality of it once again slamming into you like it did before. 

The minute that last sentence left your lips, the world slowed down for Chris. He saw everything, the wedding, the laughs you both had. Even the simple things like how whenever he got up, which was always well before you woke up; he’d stare at you, brushing your cheekbones with his knuckles. Watching your peaceful form and marveling at how effortlessly gorgeous you are. Now as he watches you, seeing the shreds of you that were left, he had a realization. He realized all at once that the person he loves and has always loved is dead. She’s dead, along with his child, because of him.

You started staring off tears freely falling, “I just want my baby… Bin, I want my baby.” 

Your heart rate started climbing fast as you stared at your lap, seeing blood that wasn’t there anymore, then blinking and it disappearing, your face began to show distress, as tears started falling, and your mouth opened letting out rapid puffs of air. Bin looked at Han and yelled at him, "Get the nurses, go!" The next second Han ran out the door as the alarms went off on the monitors. 

Bin looked at you and said, “Hey look at me, stay here with me, Angel.” Then he looked at Minho and said, “Clear the room. Get Chan out of her NOW!” Minho immediately started getting everyone up and out of the room as fast as possible. 

Chris slowly backed up until he hit the wall,everything moving in slow motion. He looked at the monitor, seeing your ungodly fast heart rate. The fact that you could die right now from a heart attack made him want to collapse to his knees and start praying. Chris was watching how Bin handled you, tears were starting to sting in his eyes. He was shaking, feeling the gold of his wedding band as he watched a man who was so much more than he could be. How delicate he was with you. Why did I do this? 

He was staring at your face, he could see it, the heartbreak. He wanted to help, to take all of it back. Flashes of memories flickered in his mind. All of the opportunities he had to be with you but chose not to. All of the times that you would try to save him from himself, even if it was as simple as reminding him to eat. He’d yell at you and tell you that he was a grown up. I’m not grown. You’d remind him to get up and stretch, to be present in the now.  You always tried to connect to him, always tried to soothe him, always tried to bridge the gap he put in between the both of you. His heart felt like lead, sinking further. His voice, his legs, his body didn’t move. It was Innah who dragged him out of the room by the collar.

Bin looked back at you, “Y/N…” He could see, you were completely dissociated. 

You weren’t responding to him at all, eyes glazed over as your heart rate kept climbing, you were glancing around, clearly confused. What he didn’t know is that you felt everything at once. You could hear him like he was underwater. Your vision was blurry, and you really couldn’t feel anything aside from the pain in your chest at the thought of anything, because you felt guilty.

“Angel, look at me, try to breathe for me. Come back to me.” 

“They should be here, not me. My baby didn’t deserve that Binnie. I want to hold my baby!” You screamed, “I want to take them a bath, feed them, I want my Baby.”

Bin realized then that it’s the reality that’s so painful. Everything that was around you reminded you of the fact that you were living and your child wasn’t. He could see the pain on your face as he gently held your face, trying to get through to you. “I know you want to hold your baby, I want that too. I want that so badly but I can’t give you your baby, that can’t happen. No one can bring your baby back, Angel.” Tears were rolling down his face at seeing you like this. Your eyes were constantly searching as more tears fell from them, he tried to wipe the tears away as fast as they rolled down your cheeks.

 Bin got behind you, caging you with his arms and chest. He pulled you flush to his chest and ran his hands up and down your arms as he slowly rocked you. He was trying to provide enough stimulation to get you back to being able to self-regulate. You were only getting worse as he watched helplessly. He tilted your head back to see you spiraling further down, “Binnie help me. I want my baby please.” You just wanted to let it consume you already. 

You quaked as you wished out loud, screaming without even knowing it, “Please, just let me die, let me go, I want my Baby.” You knew it was the pain, but at this point, not having your child was worse than death. You screamed without fighting anymore. Sometimes the seconds would stretch as you screamed till no air was left to make a noise. Those sobs made you feel like your chest was in a car crusher. You couldn’t stop them no matter how hard you tried, but in your mind, there was no point in stopping them. 

Changbin’s blood ran cold hearing you say that, feeling as if he got dunked in an ice bath. He choked on his own breath as he did his best to try to get his own voice to work. You may not want to be here right now, but he’s going to make sure that you make it. He looked into your eyes and they were completely dilated, you just lay on Bin’s chest as you made the decision. You were done fighting, the pain was too much. Bin felt it, he could feel the fight leave you as you went limp, crying. 

He knows this feeling… this was the same feeling that he felt when you were losing consciousness. His gaze snapped to your eyes, no fight, no struggle. You looked like you were calling out to Death. You wanted it so badly. What was worse was that Death was answering, he could feel it in the room. Cold, dark, and looming. 

His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge.

Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge.

“Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.

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

Want More?? Tell Me So!

Want to join the Chaos Express? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

STAY KIDS CHAOS EXPRESS 🚂❤️❤️

@Fuckthinking, @feybin, @1-800-shedevil, @channiesbakery, @channieswhore, @hwangswhore, @seungminhour, @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat, @seventeenytiny, @dreaming-medium, @thunderous-wolf, @hanjsquokka, @moonjxsung, @diddybok, @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz, @straykeedz-recs, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs, @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex, @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox, 

@laylasbunbunny,@uwuitsjungwoo, @3racha-soup, @bandolls, @bomi-ja, @skzfairyyyf8te, @3rachababygirl, @symptoms-of-moonlight, @hiddlestandom , @stay-fr0sty-r0yal-milk-tea, @8rach4, @bear8585, @tenshimara, @galamxy, @fairlylilo , @skzms

[ryker-writes]

TWST characters as ✨best friends✨ (Diasomnia Edition)

What would it be like being friends with them? Come and find out! I offer my thoughts on what they would be like so I'm sorry if some of the characters are a little Ooc. Some characters I don't know as well but I'll certainly try!

Malleus:

he's so happy

he treasures you a lot

sure he has Lilia, Silver, and Sebek but it's different because they have to stay close to him to protect him

if you're upset, he's upset

will do literally anything to make you happy all you have to do is ask

and I do mean anything

he's great for fixing any problem you have

most of his solutions involve magic

if someone's bothering you, oooo they will regret it

as soon as you tell him there is thunder immediately

how dare someone bother his best friend

he won't be violent with them but at most he will threaten them

trust me, that's enough to scare them off

he's also a great person to study with

especially for magic classes and magical history

Malleus will love to talk to you about gargoyles too so please listen

he will be so happy if you actually pay attention

also please bring him along to events even if they're small

he won't voice it but he will be upset if you don't

Lilia is happy that Malleus has a good friend

Sebek has mixed feelings about you tho

like on one hand you're acting so casual and disregarding how powerful Malleus is but you make Malleus happy and Malleus will be upset if Sebek yells at you

Lilia:

he loves to mess with you

Lilia will often hang upside down and randomly appear around you to try and scare you

if you don't scare easily, that only makes him more determined

and if you do scare easily, he will do it more often

there's no getting out of it

very good at solving all your problems

he has a lot of life experience so he's great at giving advice on what to do in any situation

and if someone is bothering you he can talk to them

his talk with them will start off friendly enough but if they don't cooperate he will start threatening them

he's a great person to talk to about anything

he has vast knowledge about many things so he most likely will know about anything you talk to him about

prepare to be teased a lot

and he will try to make you food often

so......good luck

Silver:

probably the calmest friend out of everyone

don't get me wrong, if someone is bothering you or if you have a problem he will take it seriously

he will step in to help you whenever you need him

wouldn't really get hostile unless your safety was at risk

you can talk to him about anything and he will try to listen

please don't be upset with him if he falls asleep while you're talking

he really tries to listen especially if it's something important

but he does pay attention to the parts he catches before he falls asleep and will ask if you still want to continue the conversation when he's awake

Silver falls asleep in inconvenient places sometimes so please help him

just move him so he's not in people's way and maybe try to wake him up

you may also want to help him with whatever he was doing before he fell asleep

you get to see so many small animals around him

the birds and squirrels may start accepting you too

Lilia is happy his son has a friend like you

and so Lilia will try to make you food

Silver will eat the food so you don't have to

Sebek:

I really hope you aren't sensitive to loud noises

he's loud, but a good friend

I mean if someone is bothering you he will obviously confront them

they will be very confused when Sebek comes at them yelling and they don't understand what he's saying but it will somehow work

if you're having a problem he will do his best to help you find a solution

and if he can't think of anything he'll turn to Lilia for advice

Lilia will give good advice but if Sebek doesn't clarify that it's serious and not his problem, Lilia may give him misleading advice to prank him

but if that happens then you get a hilarious distraction from your problem

be aware that if you ask for his opinion on something he will give it to you honestly and directly

he will talk for hours about Malleus if you let him

and he would be really happy if you do

you will know a lot about Malleus even if you haven't met him

and if you do meet Malleus, Sebek will hold you to the same expectations as everyone

but if you pay really close attention, you can tell he's not yelling at you as much as he would others

[rubydubydoo122]

As much as I hate to say it, and as much as I love Jason ToddI'm gonna need DC to kill him again, and keep him dead this time.

Now before you come at me, let me explain why I think this. Jason Todd is a character that while alive will always be connected to Gotham, and because of his differing morals with Batman, he will always be in a cycle of conflict with him. We saw it in UTRH, we saw it in RHATO, we saw it in Gotham Wars. Because Jason isn't a villain (I feel like in UTRH he was an anti-hero, and any actions that didn't align with the morals he set during that time is because he was villainized by Batman) Bruce's actions feel overtly brutal (batarang to the neck, beating him so har his helmet broke, chemically altering him to feel fear) especially since it's towards his SON the one he claims to have mourned. It's a vicious cycle that isn't fair to Jason, and it's major character assassination of Bruce. It's overdone and I am sick and tired of it, but I do not see either characters backing down from their moral stances.

Now you might be thinking, just because Bruce and Jason don't get along doesn't mean they can't make up-- they've tried. Multiple time. Every time Jason and Bruce take a step in the direction of being close to each other again, Bruce becomes a control freak and abuses Jason like he's his own personal punching bag, and there's only so many times someone can forgive someone before enough is enough.

But I still haven't explained why specifically I think Jason should die again. And it's because of two reasons. Jason deserves peace, and as long as he's a ghost walking on earth, he won't be able to get that. Also because it would make Great Angst. We all know Bruce would break if he lost Jason again. He's going to push everyone away, and if you're going to have Bruce push everyone away, give him consequences for his actions.but we saw how protective Dick got during Gotham Wars. Just imagine Dick walking up towards Bruce and saying, "It might've been my fault last time for not picking up his calls, but this time, you can't deny that this, is all your fault." "How dare you! He was my son!" "You lost him once, and when he came back you treated him worse than any of the loonies in Arkham. You don't miss him at all. You only feel guilty because of your goddamned savior complex. You only treat him like your son when he's dead."

and while we're at it, maybe Tim can have a complete crisis. He had to pick up the pieces of Bruce in the aftermath of Jason's death last time, and look where that got him. All of his friends and family died. He was never truly recognized for guiding Bruce out of the dark, and we all know that Tim is one inconvenience from killing a bitch. Maybe this is it. I actually think it would be hilarious for Tim to take up the Red Hood mantle, Only to screw with Bruce. Because he knows that's what Jason would've wanted.

Have Damian afraid of what Bruce has become in guilt. Have Damians castle of worship for his father come tumbling down, because Damian always knew his father loved all of the previous Robins more than him, and if his father no longer wanted them, what was stopping Bruce from sending him back to the League.

Like DC if you're going to use Jason as a catalyst for an event, kill him off again. last time it was on a whim. This time, do it on purpose. This time, give his death a purpose. This time, make sure his death changes something, because god, Bruce has fucked up so much.

[mayxo-hxh]

Im about to get controversial.

Out of chrollo, illumi and hisoka, hisoka is canonically the least likely to flirt to get anything he wants, if at all.

A lot of people think he's a natural flirt but I fear I couldn't have disagreed more. He only "flirted" a single time and that was solely to piss off machi, knowing she'd never agree. Hot take? He would've never asked if he knew she'd agree.

Also, bro's the biggest humanphobe in the anime. He keeps his distance from everyone. The only human physical contact he ever made was through fighting people. (If you're a person thats interested in seeing more evidence, I have an entire long thread about it on twitter that I do plan on posting here soon)

so u cannot give me 1 reason for hisoka to flirt with someone at a random bar but chrollo and illumi? i can think of a few.

chrollo, he already canonically flirts to get what he wants. straight up goes on dates gets a suit and shit. he has no reputation among the general public that hes concerned of that isnt the spider. Illumi? He's a manipulator. I HIGHLY doubt he never flirted to get something in his life from people who are too easy to win over. He's someone that wouldn't care what people think of him. He's also anonymous. People have no idea who tf he is anyways. If it affected the zoldyck reputation? Thats a different story.

Hisoka? he would fucking NEVER. Him specifically? HE HAS A REPUTATION. And whats that reputation? That hes an absolute disgusting freak that no one should dare to approach. He kills people. He fights live and makes sure the audience is always disgusted and weirded out by his actions and performances. You look at him and you should immediately look away and pray he hasn't seen you.

So riddle me this. If his entire shtick is making sure everyones afraid of him and avoids him, then why the hell would he get himself a reputation that makes him approachable????

Why would he get himself a reputation that makes you, as a person who only ever heard of him picking people up, want to approach him.

On top of that, I just.. don't see him picking random people up..??? random weaklings that dont even know nen????? he literally treats them like trash that inconveniences his time. You're saying he'd EVER give them the privilege of sleeping with him???

And then you'd say, oh so he'd sleep with strong people! HERES THE THING. Why would he sleep with them..... when he can fight them. Him getting off from fighting comes NOWHERE to actual sex. What people don't understand is that he gets off to killing people and seeing them crumble in front of him when they realize theyre going to die. Torturing people to death. What's... that got to do with like. yknow. actual sex bro 😭😭😭😭😭😭

this turned into a huge rant probably but do you know how genuinely depressing it is seeing a unique character like hisoka that gains lust through FIGHTING and KILLING reduced to. sex addict in fics. Like. be so fucking serious right now. He called himself a FIGHT ADDICT in the manga. Can I see more of him actually spending his time killing and fighting people instead of whatever the hell bros doing with a random npc.

Anyways this is also why I hc him as asexual/demisexual NEXTTTT