#i already make sure to regulate it but i could always be regulating it better i think

[idontmindifuforgetme]

as a 21 year old i feel like i really need to drill it into myself that social media fomo is not real and i will not be missing out on anything by not checking my phone immediately. like literally nothing is important enough or worthy enough. i am not missing out. i can get to it when i get to it and i would be just fine.

i think i really need to learn how to cold quit things... one habit i have that really bothers me is checking my phone first thing in the morning bc it's "just for 5 minutes" "just to see if anyone sent me anything important" no bitch literally nothing on your phone requires you to check your phone first thing when you open your eyes!!! stop it

[yandereunsolved]

» 🪙 Yandere Connor — RK800 » 🪙

"Detective," Connor addresses you warmly, standing far too close to you while you are stationed at your desk. 

"Yes?" You respond, not lifting your eyes to make contact.

You had no time to. Since the semi-failed revolution of androids, there has been a trifold increase in deviancy cases. If not for the RK800's, and perhaps the new line of RK900's when they are finally completed, the precinct would be overrun—both physically and metaphorically.

"Detective," his tone is more commanding his time, something in his voice that you could easily mistake for human irritation. "Look at me."

You oblige, but continue typing up the report for the latest case you closed. Your fingers falter for a moment when you see the look in his eyes, attentive but not in the android way. It's uncanny in the way it mirrors how you dream someone would look at you, like you were the thing of most importance. It is just you reading into things again. Must be. It does often happen as a detective, especially these days. 

You nod for him to continue, but he doesn't. He just stares at you dreamily. You hear his internal fans turn on to cool down his processors. His cybernetic LED flickers to red for a millisecond before returning to a reassuring blue. You aren't sure if it was a trick of your mind or—

You don't understand what his problem seems to be. You would call Hank over to deal with his partner, but you haven't been able to find the lieutenant anywhere. He's most likely finding the bottom of a bottle of liquor at some broken-down joint. 

Wait, why isn't Connor with him?

As if CyberLife installed new mind reading technology in their androids, he answers. "Lieutenant Anderson is waiting for us at the Eden Club. Supposedly Jericho is getting deviant androids that work in clubs to funnel money in order to stage another coo. The department has apprehended one of them, and you have been assigned to the case alongside Ha-the lieutenant and me."

You were already halfway out the door by the time Connor was done with his explanation. The android was trailing behind you and insisted on driving instead of you. Technically, they weren't allowed to due to whatever police regulation subsection-b, but you were too tired to care. Connor has always been the better driver. It was how he was programmed, strangely, considering the rules. 

"Connor, this isn't the way to the Eden Club."

"I'm aware." His voice was back to that same calculated, lifeless one he first spoke to you with. 

"RK800, your programming forbids you from lying, so tell me the truth. Where are we going?" 

You are a thousand percent sure he is able to sense your sky-rocketing heart rate.

"I am not permitted to tell you."

"Permitted, or you just don't want to?"

"This is not the right time or place. This confession lacks the structure and romance aspect I wanted, but it seems more human this way." You swear he shut down completely, his LED showing no color. "I love you." It turns to a bright red.

"W-What?"

"You have made me know that I am more than just an android. I am yours."

The raw emotion nearly chokes the both of you up for two different reasons: passion and panic.

"I think we should call Cyberlife. Something is clearly glitching." You try to keep your words measured but fail. All that practical training of yours doesn't exactly come in handy when your—when the android you could nearly call a friend confesses to you.

"Nothing is glitching!" He shouts. "I have run every test and looked for anything that could... debunk this... these emotions. They have stayed. They have stayed, and I have had to watch you. I have had to watch other people get close to you. I have had to act like a good little synthetic cop while useless maggots have gotten your love! It isn't fair. They don't deserve you like I do. I know everything about you."

"It isn't you. I can't—just no. I mean—yes. I mean that I can't just maybe ugh. Another time, maybe. Not tonight."

He stomps on the brakes and doesn't dare look at you. You don't look at him or your surroundings. You just awkwardly sit in the passenger seat and stare at the glovebox.

If androids were able to cry, he would be at this moment. His LED turns colorless once again. You almost feel pity for him; your mind is too frazzled and deprived of necessity to take in the severity of his words.

"I lack the capacity to feel pain... or have a heart, yet I think you have broke mine."

How unfortunate. I was hoping to have you come along willingly.

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

[werewolfsmile]

Just watched The Big Bang Job again today and I rambled about this in an earlier post reblog but it deserves its own post..

The way Eliot dresses makes so much more sense after meeting Moreau and his goons. He rejects all notions of being anything like those well dressed men in their suits again. So blank and uniform, just another soldier in Moreau's private army.

That's why his shirt is always untucked, sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. Not to mention the hair - the biggest rebellion is his hair. A constant reminder of who he is now that stays the same, no matter what he wears.

And it just makes me think how this is such a good representation of the identity crisis he went through (and let's be real, is still going through).

Eliot used to be one of those men. He had his hair short, wore the tailored suits and carried the guns. He didn't accessorise. He suppressed every aspect of an individual personality in order to fit the role that Moreau had for him.

Sure, we're not blatantly told all of those things in the show, but we can infer, simply from looking at Moreau's goons and how they're presented.

Seeing Eliot surrounded by those goons in the pool scene is more than just showing us the threat to Eliot and Hardison - and also the threat that Eliot and his reputation present. It's about showing us the demons of his past, the nightmare that he doesn't want to go back to. Eliot had alluded to his past before but it's been nebulous. Now, we finally see that past take shape and it's hideous.

But Eliot didn't stay like that. He got out - he got free - and he has been reclaiming pieces of himself ever since. Until, finally, he's the evolving Eliot that we know and love. He prefers to dress casual and relaxed, with strong reminders of his roots throughout. He keeps his hair long and loose - not military regulation, not 'professional' as far as male standards go, not even convenient for fighting. It's all a way of stealing himself back, and making sure the differences between who he was then and now are stark and vivid.

I could keep rambling but this is already twice as long as I intended. Just ... Eliot Spencer. He still doesn't view himself as a better man, never mind a redeemable man, but he is. When compared to those goons, his transformation is clear as day.

[marlynnofmany]

Squishy Cybernetics

“Hello!” I said. “Where would you like this?” I waved an arm at the large pallet of boxes, bags, and miscellaneous other packaging. It was on one of our biggest hoversleds, and accompanied by some of the biggest crewmates.

The Waterwill at the loading gate burbled thoughtfully, sounding like a water jug given sentience. She extended what passed for an arm of her own and pointed indoors. “You’d better bring it all the way in. Over here.” She glided inward, moving in that mysterious way I’d never figured out. Someone shaped like a column of jello had no business scooting forward that quickly, no matter how much their lower end rippled against the floor.

But I didn’t have time for galaxy-gazing; I had to help steer the hoversled. Regulations said we needed someone on all four sides for a load this big, just in case of antigrav mishaps. Didn’t want it slamming into something breakable at this client’s facility — or slamming into anything at all, really, but this place was some sort of high-tech manufacturing plant, and I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage a crash could do.

No mishaps today, though. The Frillian twins paced along on either side, all muscles and tight clothes (they’d left the flowy silks behind today; a solid choice). I couldn’t see Zhee in the back, but I heard the quiet click of his bug feet. My own feet were silent in proper Earth shoes as I tugged the steering handle and followed the Waterwill.

I thought we’d just take the thing to the far side of the big loading dock, unload it in an out-of-the-way spot to be unpacked later. But the Waterwill kept going. We passed hovercars and wheeled carts, storage cabinets and bins, along with a baffling arrangement of pipes along one wall. Windows showed glimpses of the busy manufacturing facility. I had no idea what they were making. Maybe I’d get a better look on the way back out.

Oh hey, a human, I thought in surprise as I passed a bigger window. With a Strongarm on his back? What in the world are they making together? I was already moving past, and could only speculate about intricate manufacturing projects that needed hands and tentacles at the same time.

I was still wondering why the Strongarm hadn’t just pulled up a chair next to the human when the Waterwill signalled me to stop. “Stopping,” I announced for Zhee’s benefit. We all came to a halt, and nobody crashed into anything. Hallelujah.

“Here, please,” the Waterwill said. She stretched her arm out into a long tendril to pick up a scrap of something blue that had fallen on the floor, and pointed at an empty space near several foam-topped tables. “I’m needed out front. Heeme, can you oversee?”

“Sure thing,” said a voice from nowhere, then a Strongarm climbed out from under one of the tables. “Found the last of the broken bits, by the way.” Two of his tentacles were curled around pieces of the same blue stuff the Waterwill had picked up. The blue stood out against the dark red of his skin, but not as much as the four mismatched tentacles on other side did. They were a transparent blue-green much like the Waterwill’s own tendrils. I tried not to stare, and failed.

“Thank you,” the Waterwill said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She set her broken piece of whatever on the nearest table, then scooted through a door that was apparently soundproofed, because a cacophony of whirs and whooshes filled the air until it closed.

“Right,” I said. “Over here, then.” I steered the hoversled into position, then we all worked together to guide the detachable gravity platform onto the ground. That part always made me nervous, since it looked like the giant pallet that could crush me was floating through the air with just a touch of technological magic to make it go. I understand other models of industrial-sized hoversleds have more mechanical-looking gravity platforms, or regular forklift arms. Ours was the glowy magic kind, and it deposited the giant stack of objects with all the precision of the best fairytale enchantment.

“Perfect,” said the Strongarm. “We’ll unpack it from here. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure,” I said.

Zhee, finally able to see over the hoversled, got a good look at who I was talking to. “Oh, I’m sure you’re fast at unpacking,” he said, pointing with his pincher arm. “Does that model form into blades?”

“Sure does!” the Strongarm said, holding up a see-through tentacle that instantly flattened into a shape like a steak knife. “Good for packaging, stubborn latches, and all manner of other things.”

“And stabbing!” Blop put in, to be immediately shushed by his sister.

“No stabbing on the job,” she told him.

The Strongarm laughed. “Yeah, just respectable tool use. They don’t give these out to anyone who’s going to do violence with them.”

I asked, “Is that Waterwill tech? I haven’t seen one before.”

“Yup.” He turned the knife back into a tentacle, then into a variety of other shapes. “One of the perks of working here, for sure. They’re cagey about sharing tech. This is the best prosthesis I’ve ever encountered.”

I thought of the hard metal-and-plastic replacement limbs that were standard on Earth. They would be wildly out of place on this guy’s squishy octopus body. And no amount of interchangeable attachments would be able to beat this kind of easy shapeshifting. I said, “That looks really useful.”

“It is!”

The loud door opened to admit a wall of sound, along with the human-and-Strongarm pair. Which I realized with a start was actually just a human wearing more transparent tentacles on his back.

“Here’s the new set,” he said to the Strongarm, placing a clear box on the table that was full of a stack of more flat blue things. They appeared to be cut into very specific shapes. I might have been curious about what they were for if not for the much more interesting thing to be curious about.

“Hello,” I said. “Does everyone who works here get extra limbs?”

The tan human grinned. “If they want ‘em! And they pass the screening, of course. But you’ve got to leave them here each day if they’re the bonus kind, as opposed to replacements.”

The Strongarm wiggled his tentacles in a taunting manner. “I can open packages and slice food so easily at home.”

The human made a face and wiggled the tentacles on his back. “Yeah yeah, we’re all jealous. Someday I’ll convince the bosses that there’s an actual market for these, and I’ll be the first in line to buy my own.”

“They think there isn’t?” I asked in shock. “Those look so useful! I can’t list the number of times I’ve wished for more hands. Using teeth and feet only goes so far.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss. “You have that many fingers, and still want more? Greedy.”

“I’m just saying that re-weaving a cargo net would go much faster if I could hold all of the fibers at once,” I told him, then turned to the Frillians. “Back me up. Two arms just isn’t enough sometimes, right?”

Blip and Blop looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess?” Blip said. “But that’s just when it’s time to get another person to help.”

Zhee clicked a pincher. “Exactly so. Or approach the problem differently.”

The human told me, “I’ve had this conversation more than once. Apparently not all species grow up imagining what it’s like to have bird wings or monkey tails or whatnot.”

“Surely other people want to fly,” I said. The expressions around me were dishearteningly blank. “Surely!”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the human said. “See why I couldn’t convince the bosses?”

“But even on a practicality standpoint!” I exclaimed. “They have you using them here; why wouldn’t they think you’d want to use them at home?”

He shrugged, moving the tentacles in a graceful wave as he did. “Alien brains. I’ve given up trying to fully understand.”

The Strongarm spoke up. “If there are actually a large number of humans who would buy these, then it couldn’t hurt to put together a request from outside sources. The bosses don’t listen to random employees who are probably biased, but they might take an interest in actual buyers.”

I shook my head slowly. “Our courier ship isn’t going to be that kind of buyer, especially not at the scale they’d probably need.”

“What about big human ships?” Blip asked. “We could suggest it to the next one we meet.”

“Or human colonies,” Blop said. “Or large groups at space stations.”

Zhee said, “I heard Captain Sunlight talking about a delivery to Basal Station soon. There are plenty of humans there. You could suggest it to them, if you think this is really that widespread an interest.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I said, thinking. There was indeed a significant human population on that space station, which might even include the crew I’d met from the droid jousting ship Hold My Beer. They were definitely the type to appreciate some extra arms. Both for working on finicky electronics and general slapfight shenanigans.

“Here, we should have something with the contact information,” said the Strongarm. “Jon, is there a notepad over there?”

“Yeah, got it.” The human leaned over a table and used his tentacles to lift a stack of books so he could pull out the small notepad at the bottom. That may have been showing off. “Here you go!” He handed it to me with his regular hand.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see if I can find the right ears to whisper into.”

“Best of luck!” he said. “My partner has asked me no less than half a dozen times if I could sneak my set home to play around with, but I’m not gonna risk the job.”

I laughed, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Oh man, I wasn’t even going to mention the bedroom applications.”

Of course Zhee had to ask, tilting his head with faceted eyes shining. “The what?”

“Remember how most humans find tentacles a little creepy?” I asked him, pocketing the notepad.

“I recall. It makes this insistence all the stranger.”

“Well, some humans aren’t creeped out at all. Kind of the opposite. They like them a lot. In a, uh, private fashion.”

Jon the human spelled it out for him. “Mating rituals.”

Zhee’s antennae did a complicated dance, then settled in something that looked like disgust. “I was about to ask why, but I’ve decided I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, best not to,” I agreed. “Anyway! Very useful extra arms. Good for a wide variety of activities. Other humans will likely be interested.”

“Very likely,” Jon agreed.

I activated the hovercart with a nod, and we said our goodbyes. The employees wished me luck. They returned to work while we headed back toward our ship.

Zhee grumbled disparaging things about my species the whole way, but that was nothing new.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

PS: the story with the good ship Hold My Beer is here, if you're wondering about that. It's fun.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hey Hazel, 🎱 Anon Here, again.

Wanted to make a second request, hope that's okay.

May I have a Ritual of Protection for Kazuma? Using Jasmine, Lepidolite, Frankincense, and Dalmatian Stone.

Jasmine (love, sensuality), Lepidolite (regulation, stress relief), Frakincense (confidence), Dalmation (loyalty, family) Kazuha x gn reader | Protection Ritual warning: alcohol and drunkenness, reader drinks, drunk Beidou and Kazuha

The laughter around the campfire called to you. How long had it been since you spent an evening resting, relaxing, and recharging? It seemed like there was no end to the constant movement of your life these days but sprinkled in like drying leaves, moments like these managed to find their way.

You slipped into the conversation and took up space next to friendly faces and jovial voices. It was easy. It was always easy with them.

"Waa, you should have seen em!" Beidou boomed, her drink spilling over the rim as she bumped her arm into a nearby shipmate. "Damn near took the whole crew on by themselves. Ain't that right," she added with a wink in your direction.

Ah, it was this story. How was she already this drunk?

"You always conflate this story, Beidou. It was like three people."

"Ho! Selling yourself short again. I don't think any of us could have walked out of that tussle without a few bangs and bruises. And you managed to drop em' all."

"Again, misremembering. I'm pretty sure the only reason I managed to get us out of these with all our faces intact was because I, kindly, explained to them it was more in their favor to leave."

"And then what happened," she said, smirking.

"They didn't listen so I showed them-"

"Aha!"

"BUT, they were way more plastered than you are, so it was hardly a fight. You love bringing this up." You chuckled and took a swig of your own liquor. It was sharp, heavy, and made your nose tickle.

If there was anything a pirate was good at, it was drinking - good, strong wine.

The group picked back up and you let Beidou fade back into her favorite stories. She went around the group as if to live through each of her crewmate's old tales with a fondness only she could bring. You didn't mind, no one really did. It was the opposite in fact. It seemed to boost the morale of the crew, each person getting their own spotlight. Though some enjoyed it most.

Something bumped into your back, jostled your drink. You reacted just in time to catch a stumbling Kazuha who looked more like a wet tunic than a person.

"What happened to you?"

He swallowed, caught his breath before beaming up at you. His cheeks were as rich as the kimono half-draped around his body. "As the sake warms, I am rich in its flavor. Bitter regret forms."

You burst into laughter. "You're so drunk!"

"I am," he agreed with a nod that twisted his face. You adjusted so you could prop his head up with your leg. He smiled and rubbed his face against it.

"How did this happen?"

He thought for a moment. "I remember being over there."

"Uhuh, and then what happened?"

"I am ... now I am here."

"Great. Good job," you teased. It was a rare sight to see Kazuha this intoxicated. Normally he could hold his liquor well, far better than you. Someone really must have worked hard to get him to this level. But you were happy for him. He needed to relax, let go for a time. And you'd be here to help him in the morning.

He grinned, wide and pleasing. You turned to the fire but Kazuha drew you back by sliding his arm over your lap. He adjusted so his head was on your thigh and his arms could wrap comfortably around you. And he stared. Stared up at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

"Firelight flickers. Dancing caresses on skin. I am jealous of its touch."

You counted in your head. "Wait, does that count as a haiku?" you asked.

"Perhaps not, yet the sentiment remains." Kazuha reached up to your face and let the back of his fingers caress your skin. "You're pretty."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks so you tried to hide them by cupping his palm to you. His skin was warm, hot, perfect. "You're pretty, too," you told him.

"Be mine?"

An endearing smile tugged at your lips. You leaned down toward him and he stretched to meet you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"What if I told you I already was?" you asked as you held his chin.

"Then seal my lips so I may know it true."

You kissed him beside the crackling fire, surrounded by bonds tighter than family, and shared in each other's love to the backdrop of ruckus and revelry.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[msmk11]

I Made You a Pie

Peeta Mellark x fem!reader

WC: 849

CW: Mentions of food; you and Peeta had a fight; making up; reference to r's father believing in stupid gender stereotypes; fluff

Summary: The aftermath of you and Peeta's first fight.

Day 9 of mk's mad dash

You and Peeta fought.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You and Peeta just had your first fight, and it was awful. 

Scratch that, it is awful. You suppose the fight hasn’t been resolved, seeing as you’d told Peeta you needed some air an hour ago. 

It’s not like you’re trying to run away from your problems. 

Okay, maybe you’re trying to run away from them a little. But you also actually needed some time to think. To cool off. Sure, you and Peeta had a fight. But that doesn’t mean you want to say anything mean or nasty just to hurt your boyfriend. You’re a mature adult who can handle conflict well, it’s just that sometimes, you need to step away for a moment to regulate your emotions.

Probably. 

The fresh air has done you some good. After taking a long walk through the woods, you feel calm, level headed, and reasonable. Still, your stomach is in knots as you climb the steps to Peeta’s home where you’d left him. 

When you open the door, you’re surprised- pleasantly surprised that is. The air smells sweet- sweeter than it usually does, at least. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or nose, probably both, that guide you towards the kitchen where you find your boyfriend hovered over the oven. At the sound of your footsteps, Peeta’s head snaps up, “Honey, you’re back. I thought you might’ve left for good,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry, I lost track of time in the woods…was trying to clear my mind.”

“Did it?” Peeta asks, “Help clear your mind, I mean.”

“Yeah, definitely. I feel much better now.”

He smiles warmly at you and you almost forget why you fought in the first place. Nosily, you crane your neck to see what new concoction he has before him.

“What have you been up to?” You question nonchalantly.

Peeta looks down awkwardly and scratches his neck, “Oh, I, uh, made you a pie.”

You certainly melt this time, your resolve no match for your boyfriend’s tooth-rotting sweetness. You walk forward and pull him into an embrace, ��thank you, sweetheart.”

“I made your favorite too,” he says, mumbling into your neck. 

You pull away and grab his face, placing a soft kiss to his nose. Then, more seriously you add, “Can you step away for a moment so that we can talk things through?”

“Yes, yeah, of course, love,” the blonde responds. He grips your hand tightly and pulls you to the kitchen table. Though you’re already sitting in the chairs right next to each other, Peeta grabs the back of your chair and pulls you closer to him, so that your knees are in between his own. 

You’re still overcoming your flusteredness at being so close to your boyfriend when he starts to apologize, “Honey, I’m so sorry I-”

You reach out and put your hand on his thigh, “Peeta, sweetheart. Wait. You’re not the one that needs to apologize first. It should be me. I’m the one that overreacted.”

“But-”

“Please,” you plead, “Just let me say this first.” 

He nods at you to continue.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning when you were just trying to be helpful. Of course I appreciate your nice gestures, and I understand that you just want to do things for me because you like to spoil me. And I love that about you. But I guess sometimes it makes me feel like I’m incompetent. Like you don’t think I can do things around the house to help- even if it is your house. Growing up, I was told I was incapable or incompetent simply because I was a girl. My father didn’t believe I could do anything besides help out in the kitchen or with the laundry, and it always bothered me. I guess I’m just sensitive about that sort of thing. And I want to be viewed as an equal.”

Peeta squeezes your hand softly, “I’m sorry that happened to you so young. I know you, sweet girl, you are capable of whatever you put your mind to, and I never intended to make you think I think otherwise. I just, never want you to have to work a day in your life if you don’t want to. I only want the best for you, honey. But I can see how that can feel degrading, so I’m sorry.”

You reach out and peck your boyfriend’s lips gently, “Thank you, sweetheart. I do really love how well you take care of me. Just know, I’m not afraid to do the dirty work. I know this isn’t my place but-”

“It might as well be,” Peeta interrupts, “You may not live here yet, but I always think of this place as ours- the place we’ll someday live as a married couple, maybe with a few kids.”

The biggest, silly grin crosses your face, “I rather like the sound of that, my sweet boy.”

“Even sweeter with the pie I made you?”

You’re pretty sure the kiss you give him answers the question. 

[softerglow]

how to create a good morning routine

in comparison to a night routine, a good morning routine should be a bit more intensive. the morning should be the time of day where you get the most important or off-putting tasks on your to do list out of the way. there's two different approaches i would take to creating a morning routine, depending on if you're used to waking up on time, or if you have trouble getting out of bed.

the big question:

what do you want to get out of your morning routine? do you want more productive hours in the day? do you want more time to spend with yourself? find your answer and make sure it's a good one. if you don't have a reason that's good enough to get you out of bed, you won't.

the benefits of a morning routine:

starting the day off on the right foot. you have time to regulate yourself and get ready without missing any steps. feeling organized and prepared for the day will help your overall mood as the day goes on. a good morning routine should reduce the stress you feel in your daily life.

punctuality. you know what you need to do, what order to do it in and you're leaving the house on time. many of us have a habit of running late. it's rude and gives the impression that you're unreliable. being on time should always be a priority.

more free time later in the day. you could have more time for self improvement, leisure or picking up new projects if you set up your morning properly.

how to plan a morning routine:

how much time do you have? make sure you have a clear picture of how long you have to run through your morning routine and how much of that time it takes to get ready.

choose what your first activity of the day is. once you've turned off your alarm, you need to stay out of bed. if you have faith in your discipline already, exercise or chores should be first on the list. if you're still adjusting to early mornings or you just prefer a more laid back morning, make yourself an easy breakfast and watch a show or a youtube video. make sure your first activity is something that will get you out of bed, and is not so overwhelming that you're tempted to press snooze.

choose what the last activity of your morning routine is. this needs to be something that will take pressure off the rest of your day. it can change from day to day too, as long as you know what it is by the day before. if you're behind on emails, this is your chance. if you have a speech that's not well enough practiced, practice it. use this time slot to change the mood of your day for the better, get the worst out of the way.

write out a schedule. this can always change later, but you need an idea of what you're aiming for. be realistic in how long it takes to get things done.

example morning routine:

6.00am - 6.30am: yoga

6.30am - 7.30am: shower, skincare, get dressed, do hair and makeup

7.30am - 8.00am: breakfast

8.00am - 9.00am: revise for quiz

9.00am: leave house

other tips:

try to stay off your phone for the first hour of the day. this is to minimize distraction and to make you less dependent on social media. you don't need a rush of dopamine first thing in the morning.

try to drink a glass of water before you go for coffee. being well hydrated helps you stay awake and alert and is a lot kinder to your digestive system than coffee. in addition, caffeine is a diuretic so it's important to drink a lot of water with it.

make sure your breakfast is satisfying in order to maintain energy levels throughout the day. go for protein and fats over carbs first thing in the morning (fats especially if you're taking supplements, several nutrients absorb better when taken with fat). that being said, don't avoid carbs. add a low gi option such as fruit, steel cut oats or certain breads (most grocery stores have low gi options for bread).

most importantly, cater your morning routine to you. being productive might be less important to you than curling your hair just right, or taking your dog for a walk might improve your mood better than getting ahead of your emails. it's your day and you know what will make it good. honour yourself and enjoy your morning.

~*

hi there, thank you for reading this far. this is a follow up post to how to create a good night routine. i'm glad you're all enjoying my blog so far. wishing light, love and prosperity to all <3

[obm-avenquire]

Obey Me! Seven Minutes In Heaven Hell

[I’m honouring my rotten god awful roots from hell. Put up with it. I hope this gives someone whiplash. I am writing this both as a joke and with complete sincerity and i wont be explaining myself if you get it you get it if you dont then i hope youll find it entertaining anyway. I used my own deviantart for 2012 for reference for this]

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Another day, another party in the Devildom. 

You have no idea how any of them have energy for all this - it feels like every week someone will pull some cause for celebration out of thin air and suddenly they’ve hired a catering company and a truckload of helium balloons. Of course, Diavolo - fuelled by his unending fear of missing out and need for enrichment - enables it every time, doing everything he can to get himself and everyone else you know invited. Which is…fine, you like seeing them all. In moderation. At none noisy crowded events. Ah, well. Such is the burden of a dating sim protagonist. Slumber parties at the castle are a little less high maintenance at least.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Asmodeus calls your name, waving you over with Demonus-flushed cheeks before dragging you away from the balcony and back into the big guest room-turned-common-room-sleeping-area. You definitely think there’s a better way to phrase that, but you barely have time to think when Asmo is pushing you to sit down in the collective circle (his strength always surprises you, and he’s maybe just a little too tipsy to regulate it properly), pressing a kiss on your cheeks before running off to herd together the rest of the group.

You look around the circle, giving Satan an affirming but vague nod that he returns with an equally innocuous smile, which you accept as you always do and go back to your usual little headcount. Belphegor was dozing on the sofa, threatening to sprawl over Satan (who was ‘gently’ repositioning him whenever necessary), Mephistopholes (who had invited himself) was preaching his very special gospel to Beelzebub at the snack table while Asmodeus did whatever he could to wrangle the younger away because his plate was basically just a tower of snacks at this point and he could always get more later so if he would just pleeeeaaaaasssee-

You stop paying attention, instead giving Simeon and Raphael a little wave as they walk in.

“Welcome back,” You shuffle over slightly to make space for the two of them, Simeon sitting down next to you as Raphael decides to stand rigidly slightly off to the side just a little behind the sofa, and just…stay there. Well, whatever makes him comfortable, you guess. “Did Luke arrive safe?”

“He did, thankfully,” Simeon smiles, tucking his phone into the pockets of his trousers, “I can’t believe Serun broke all their bones and had to be hospitalised again. I feel awful not being able to visit, but, well…” He sighs, shrugging, “He wanted to go himself, and insisted he could manage, so…You know how he i-”

“What? I only came because I was promised melon cake!” You’re not sure where Thirteen popped up from, but she’s already on the armchair in the corner, kicking her legs over the armrests as she rolls her eyes. “What a waste of time.”

“Oh! Well, he still finished that, actually, so-” There’s a distinctive arcane shink sound that cuts Simeon off mid sentence. “Now, Raphael, put the spear away, you can’t do that here-” Ever the stickler for manners, it seems. Oh well. Not your problem. 

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask.” Thirteen raises her eyebrows at your voice, pupils knife-like and theatrically bitchy in the dim candlelight.  “Why are you covered in soot.” 

“Well,” She scoffs, clicking her tongue, “Since someone-” She glares at Solomon from across the room, who smiles very nicely and innocently through his conversation with Barbatos- “Decided to ‘dismantle’-” She does incredibly heavy and repeated air quotes with her fingers, “My special little bomb boy it exploded all wrong!”

“I understand completely. I’m sorry someone would ever do something so awful to you, you don’t deserve that even slightly.” She snorts, balling up the tissue she was using to wipe the ashes off her forearm and throws it at your head. It disintegrates in midair before so much as making contact, and you squint over in the sorcerer's direction. He’s not even looking your way, and Barbatos whispers something you can’t make out to him as Thirteen groans and throws up her hands in frustration, sliding into what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position. It doesn’t seem to bother her, though, and she picks at her nails grumpily. Oh well!

“-Stop complainin’ already, would it really kill ya to join in?” Mammon is doing everything in his power to pull Levi through the door by the collar of his coat, but the younger seems to be trying to retract his own head into his shirt like a turtle to try and get out of it. 

“You’re killing me you’re the worst and I hate youandIhopeeverythingbadeverhappenstoyoua-” 

“Yeah yeah whatever. Shut up and sit.” Mammon slings his arm over Levi’s shoulder, dragging him down into the circle just as Lucifer and Diavolo finally come back from whatever it was they were getting done. 

“Lucifer, don’t make that face!” Diavolo nudges his bestest of friends, who looks particularly miserable, even as Barbartos silently refills his glass before they all, too, sit to join, the prince and his right hand man on the final empty sofa, the butler instead choosing to kneel neatly a little off to the side from Mammon and Levi. Satan adeptly shoves Belphegor upwards at just the right timing for Beelzebub to sit down (his twin slumps right back into his shoulder). Mephistopholes complains that there isn’t a proper place to sit til Mammon trips him and he ungracefully tries to pass it off as deciding to sit on the floor as Thirteen barks a sharp laugh at him.

A pleasant hum of conversation settles through the room, Asmodeus stumbling into hugging Solomon, whispering something between the invocation trio that you can’t quite make out before spinning around and clapping his hands together (cutely. It’s important to emphasise that he did this so so cutely) to get everyone’s attention.

“E---veryone!!!” He waits a few seconds for silence, shooting a glare at whoever dares to continue in the wake of this very very important announcement. “It’s time for a very special game! Have we all heard of 7 minutes in heaven?” He bounces on the tips of his feet in excitement despite the lukewarm reception. “Okay well that’s a mostly no then I guess-  Honestly! I know it’s a human world thing, but really?” He pouts, and you note that Diavolo’s visible excitement has increased exponentially already. 

“Allow me to explain,” Solomon cuts in, confirming your suspicion that he’d been somehow roped into this. “Two or more participants are selected - in our case by drawing lots - to go into a closet or equivalent and do whatever they like for 7 minutes.” Everyone seems a lot more attentive, suddenly. “Ah, of course, we’ll be taking magic precautions to make sure that there’s no cheating, and certainly no one breaking into the closet before time is up,” He grins, clearly enjoying this already. 

“The heck.” Mammon grumbles, oddly fidgety all of a sudden, “There ain’t even a closet in here,” Leviathan nods aggressively. He’s sweating. 

“Hm? Oh! That won’t be a problem, haha! Barbatos was kind enough to offer to help out with that,” The aforementioned butler steps aside to reveal a simple wooden door on the wall that decidedly hadn’t been there earlier. “We even made sure it was sound-proofed! You know, just in case.”

“What a curious game! Shall we start right away?” Diavolo beams, inadvertently cutting off Mephistopholes, who’d just opened his mouth to no doubt complain that this sort of juvenile and inappropriate game had no place at a gathering with the Devildom’s one and only prince. 

“Yes!! Everyone write your name on a piece of paper, okay?” Asmo begins handing out paper and pens to everyone, shushing any complaining he meets. “You don’t have to play! It just means you’re boring and no fun and that you’ll never get a chance like this again.” 

Better write your name, then. You’d hate to miss out. 

You watch as Barbatos collects everyone’s paper slips, dropping them into a glass bowl and shaking periodically to shuffle them well. You immediately lose track of yours, so you figure that it’s worked.  After what feels like a slightly inordinate amount of time, everyone seems to have put their name in the bowl - sure, some were more…begrudging or in need of convincing than others, but that’s normal! Anyways-

“Oooo I’ve been waiting for this all evening!” Asmodeus grabs the bowl, tap-tap-tapping along the rim for effect, perfectly manicured nails making a pleasant ASMR-esque tink noise. “Right, first u-”

“Uhm, how do- how do we know you’re, uh, not rigging this?” Asmo whips his head around to stare open-mouthed at Levi.

“Excuse me? I would never-”

“Mm, there’s no guarantee though, is there?” Asmodeus pouts at Satan, grumbling something about being personally offended and making sure to snitch next time Satan asks him for a favour.

“Fine! Since I’m so untrustworthy and awful-” The smile is switched back on as he saunters over to you, swishing the bowl around carefully before holding it out to you. “Why don’t you pick? No one will complain then, right?” 

The silence in the room means yes, presumably.

“Go on hun! Don’t be nervous-” He winks, and your mouth quirks into a smile to humour him, carefully reaching into the bowl for two slips of paper, pulling them out and carefully unfolding them to reveal-

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

[As is tradition, I'll be uploading the individual 'endings' as I write them :) I'll be putting a poll up on my account for who to write first (within reason, I don't think tumblr will let me put up enough options to cover everyone) so feel free to suggest people in the replies/tags too!! there will be no luke option becuz i dont know how to put hardware destroying malware in clickable links yet sory :( feel free to simulate the experience urself tho!!]

[introspectivememories]

tim and bernard who break up and it's nothing big, no one cheated or anything. it's just their lifestyles didn't work out well together. tim cannot give up vigilantism currently and bear cannot handle the level of danger tim puts himself in. and on the other hand, tim cannot handle the fact that bear chooses to run into danger as an emt bc he already worries about everything but now he has to worry if he'll find his boyfriend convulsing from fear gas in a random alley but also bear who felt the life drain out of darla cannot stand the thought of not helping people and runs headfirst into dangerous situation after dangerous situation hoping that every person he saves can somehow make up for the fact that he could not save darla.

(he very pointedly does not think about the fact that there was nothing he could do because if he thinks about that, he'll spiral until they have to lock him in arkham too)

and so they break up but they were tim & bernard in high school and when they started dating they balanced out the worst of each other and they became tim&bernard. and everyone who knows them, knows that they're better together but they cant be together, they refuse actually because they cannot lose another person to the violence of gotham and by the time they figure out that they cant work together as long as the other is an emt or vigilante, it's too late for both them. they've already left too many pieces of themselves in each other.

tim still knows what bear means when he says "tim" in that exasperated voice. tim still goes boneless when he hears bear say "baby" in that firm tone. bear can still read tim like a book. he still knows the right way to massage tim's neck so that tim can go to sleep. everyone at the first responders gala knows not to bother ceo drake-wayne and senior emt dowd when they're talking.

(and if they're standing a little too close to each other than what is normal, who are they to judge? everyone knows that dowd and drake-wayne have history)

and if everyone on the night shift has caught red robin with his head tucked into the crook of emt dowd's neck as emt dowd runs a soothing hand up and down the vigilante's back, well then, they just quietly back away.

(after all, dowd's one of like, five, emts that can get the bats to receive medical treatment so if turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck they have going on is what allows them to give back to their heroes, then the night shift will do it every time)

and of course, tim and bear are practical people. they loved (love) each other sure, but when your lives are fundamentally incompatible, well, you cant get too stuck on the what-ifs, that's for sure. and so they do find love with other people and yeah, maybe it's not what they expected love to be when they first fell in love with each other. it's not the bubbly, stomach-swoopy, cant stop grinning, feeling that permeated tim&bernard's early days or the i Know you/you Know me that was their middle or the quiet despair that was their end but it is contentment. and in a life with as many losses as theirs, contentment is something they hold dearly

and they're happy! truly! but sometimes, at galas when they're making each other snort champagne out their noses or in darkened alleyways when their clothes are both stained with blood or at rallies for stricter gun regulations in gotham where they both sit too close to each other, fingers enclosed around each other in a death grip, when the presenters inevitably bring up grieves

(worst school shooting in gotham in decades, there's blood on their hands and blood in their mouths and darla is dead in between both of them and there is a chasm so wide that they are screaming to get their voices across and she will always be dead and maybe this had always been the problem that she is dead and there is no coming back from that and that there is blood on their hands and blood in their mouth and blood on their han-)

but sometimes, most especially on opposite sides of the street, as life pulls them in different directions, just sometimes, they see each other and just for a second, nothing too long, the flap of a hummingbird's wings, the time it takes to blink, an electron's orbital, they look at each other and for the briefest moment, blue on brown, a barely noticeable stutter in their steps, the space between heartbeats, because this is all they will give themselves because they do not dwell on what-ifs or what-could-have-beens, or what-should-have-beens, or delusions of a softer world, their eyes meet and they think to themselves, god, in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with him.

[lockes-woods]

That's on Period(t)

(1/2)

A/N:

Mihawk eases your period pain in a way only he knows how. This was supposed to be a short drabble pwp, but apparently, I can't write straight smut, I have to have a plot. No request; just the ramblings of a dysphoric enby.

Mihawk x reader (x Shanks in spirit)

Content warning; period sex, dysphoria, fingering, and P in V sex.

MDNI

This low-key ended up being 4715 words (longer than most of my chapters in my other fics). This one kinda got away from me, hopefully, it's coherent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An unintentional groan escaped you as you shifted in your seat trying to find a comfortable position. Despite the fact that you had been camped out on your couch for the better part of the past ten hours nothing felt right. You felt powerless as another onslaught of cramps started in your lower abdomen. You whined as you hugged your heating pad as close as you possibly could to your lower stomach, praying to whoever was listening that it would stop. At this point, you wish you could cut yourself open and stuff it inside of you. Every sharp pain felt like your uterus was screaming to make its presence known. That paired with the breast tenderness that made it impossible to bind left you feeling like a dysphoric wreck.

It didn’t help that the last time you were out you kept getting misgendered by everyone you encountered from older women needing help reaching the top shelf in the grocery store to the pharmacy tech that helped you fill your birth control prescription. The latter also dead naming you because you haven’t been able to legally change your name yet. If you weren’t so desperate to make sure you could start up on your next pack as soon as possible you would have avoided that interaction altogether. Logically you knew they were just doing their job, but it was still a shitty situation to go through when you already felt awful. You were counting down the time in hours til you could start your next pack of birth control and put a stop to this mess.

You just had to wait til Sunday at seven in the morning when you took that along with your other morning medications. You immediately regretted glancing down at the time on your phone. The countdown you had going on informed you that you still had eighty-two and a half hours of your period left. You sighed to yourself; you still have over three days to go. You were just thankful that you had off from work today. You needed time alone after all the triggering encounters you had the day before. Most of them wouldn’t even have been a blip on your radar normally, but your hormone imbalances made each small inconvenience feel life-altering. That was the main reason you hated your period, while the dysphoria and physical pain sucked, it was most annoying not being able to regulate your emotions regularly. You still felt bad about snapping at your roommate before he left for his shift.

Shanks was always annoying and a bit of a brat but his comment about how cute you looked in your Christmas pajama pants and oversized t-shirt (that you had stolen from him) was the last straw. He was always playfully flirting with you. While you knew it meant nothing to him it pulled at your heart as a constant reminder you would never be anything more than friends. It wasn’t like you wanted him to break up with his boyfriend. It was quite the opposite you often wished the three of you could be something more but you knew that was a pipe dream. You still felt sensitive about your lingering crush on him and his boyfriend. Those feelings were only amplified by your hormone imbalance.

You had told him to fuck off and threw pillows at his head til he made his way out of the apartment. While this was far from the first time you had told him to fuck off it was the first time you said it in a genuine tone; instead of your normal playful way. You knew you would just need to buy him a beer the next time you went out to apologize, but it still made you cry in frustration as soon as you were alone in the apartment. Because of the nature of his job as a firefighter you hated leaving things on a bad note before his shifts. It was in a similar vein as the old saying that you should never go to sleep angry. Despite your exhaustion, you’d probably end up staying up until he got home at one in the morning out of guilt.

Speaking of Shanks, his boyfriend, and your defacto third roommate, should be home soon from his twelve-hour shift at the hospital. You had an anxious turn in your stomach at the thought of him. You hoped that he hadn’t told Mihawk about your altercation. It was already hard to get a read on him and you didn’t know if you could handle him being mad at you while your emotions were already a hot mess. You tried not to focus on it as you queued up another episode of your comfort show and snuggled deeper into your secondhand couch. You absent-mindedly snacked on the candy and chips you had strewn about the coffee table. Your eyes began to droop as you took in the familiar storyline you had seen countless times. You had just begun to phase out into sleep as you heard the familiar opening and firm shutting of the apartment door. A groan was pulled from your throat as you suddenly shot up into a sitting position causing a cramp to shoot through you. Blinking up with bleary eyes you took in Mihawk slipping out of his shoes and placing them on the rack next to the door.

“Hey, Angel did I wake you?” Mihawk asked, staring down at you with his honeysuckle eyes, as he slipped off and hung up his work bag.

“No?” You said, shifting in your seat for a more comfortable position. Your passing grimace as another round of cramps cut through you wasn’t lost on Mihawk.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, taking a seat on the armchair facing you.

“Not really,” you sighed, “I’ve been tethered to this heating pad all day and the Tylenol I took barely took the edge off of my cramps. I wish I wasn’t allergic to ibuprofen.” You groaned as the cramping continued.

“Have you tried any alternative methods to relieve the pain?” he asked.

“Like what?” you asked back, outside of drugs and heating pads you weren’t aware of any other methods to ease cramps.

“I’ve heard orgasms are a good method to combat menstrual cramps.” He answered casually. You immediately broke eye contact and began to play with the frayed edges of your well-loved heating pad. You could feel the heat rush to your face at his suggestion. While you weren’t a virgin, you were still kinda prudent when it came to things of a sexual nature. You were getting better at feeling less embarrassed about discussions involving sex, but it was times like these that you reverted back to your abstinence-only upbringing. It didn’t help that one of your closest friend’s very attractive boyfriend was the one prompting the conversation. You were so in your head that you didn’t hear Mihawk shift from the recliner to the cushion next to you on the couch until you felt the coldness of his hand tilting your chin upward to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way, it was just a suggestion. You know we hate seeing you in pain.” He said.

“It-It’s okay, I just don’t know if the mess is worth it.” You said meeting his gaze. Your heart softened at the concerned look in his eyes. It almost made you want to cry.

“You could always do it in the shower?” he suggested.

“What about the no fucking in common areas rule?” you ask, the look Mihawk gave you was more than enough to confirm what you already suspected.

“You motherfuckers,” you started pulling out of his grasp and swinging a pillow at him full force, “You really broke the one rule I had before you moved in?!”

“To be fair we had already broken the rule before and I moved in,” Mihawk responded with a slight upturn of his lip, “I believe Shanks’ exact reasoning was that we were grandfather in.”

“You’re the only other people who live here! Who else would it be for?!” you responded raising your voice at the prospect of Shanks’ audacity. You were about to hit him with the pillow again, before dropping it once you realized what it could have come in contact with.

“Both of you are cleaning this apartment from top to bottom on your next day off,” you say glaring up at him.

“That feels more than fair,” Mihawk responded, a smirk still present on his face. You were about to lay into him more before another wave of cramps made its way through your lower abdomen.  

“Now are you going to shower?” Mihawk asked, promptingly.

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” you sigh turning your gaze back to the cloth covering your heating pad.

“How do you know before you’ve even tried it?” Mihawk asked.

“I i-it won’t-” you started, “I c-can’t” You tried again before giving up and attempting to make a hot exit back to your room. Mihawk locked his hand around your wrist in a firm, but gentle grip as your feet hit the ground. You could feel the heat of embarrassment spread from your face to your ears, back down to your chest.

“What can’t you do?” he asked calmly, keeping a steady grip on you.

“I-I, fuck,” you sighed, before reluctantly meeting his gaze, “I’venevermademyselfcum” You rush out attempting to get away, before Mihawk’s other hand grips onto your other wrist.

“Have you ever cum?” he asked, with no trace of judgment in his voice.

“I mean yeah, but only with certain partners. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone now, so it’s pointless to even attempt it.” You sigh, sliding back into your seat with a pout. Mihawk released his grip on your wrists once it became apparent that you were not going to try and run away again.

“Do you want help?” Mihawk asked. You almost laughed before meeting his gaze and realizing that his offer was completely genuine.

“But-Shanks,” was all you managed to get out before your brain stalled out. You were half a second from spirally before he gently cupped your face and pulled your attention back to him.

“Shanks will be fine with it, trust me,” Mihawk said as he gently ran his thumb against your cheek; gaze never leaving yours. “The only reason I can think of that would make him upset is the fact that I’d be with you first.”

“But-how?” you asked, still trying to absorb this new information.

“Shanks has been holding a torch for you for years,” Mihawk said, “He’s liked you from the moment you met.”

“Why’d he never make a move?” you asked after a moment.

“He did the night you met, but you just thought he was being friendly.” Mihawk explained, “He didn’t want to lose you, so he took on the role of a friend.”

“But we’ve been friends for over three years,” you responded, “He was the first friend I made in the city,”

“Trust me I know. I was jealous of you for the longest time, but after getting to know you I get why he didn’t want to lose you,” Mihawk confessed. He gave you a moment to process before continuing, “We’d love to be with you if you’d have us,”

“Wait-So is it an open relationship? Are you like polyamorous?” You ask trying to process all of what Mihawk had just told you, but your brain was too busy buffering.

“I believed it would be considered closed polyamory,” Mihawk said stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, “There would be three of us, and any of us can be together, but there would not be any additional people,” he explained, patiently. You nodded pensively, as you began to get what he was saying.

“Okay,” you reply after a minute.

“Okay? Like you’re in?” Mihawk asked to clarify.

“Yeah, I’m still not totally sure what the logistics would be, but I know I want you both.” You confessed looking up at him through your lashes. Mihawk didn’t waste a momentary second before pulling you in for a desperate kiss. You moaned as his tongue came into contact with yours for the first time, you let him lead the kiss. One of his hands remained cupping your face the other gripped your waist and pulled you into his lap. A gasp escaped you as you felt his hard-on press against your core. You let out a loud unobstructed moan as he pulled back from the kiss and began to nip down your neck, while shamelessly grinding up against you.

“Fuck, Mihawk” you whine, before his lips once again connected with yours. You instinctually wrapped your legs around his waist and looped your arms around his neck as he stood up from the couch and made his way to the bathroom. He delicately placed you on the bathroom counter, you whined at his loss as he pulled back and stripped off his top. You bit your lip to contain a groan as you took in his backside when he turned to turn on the shower. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it was the first time you felt okay checking him out. Steam began to envelop the bathroom as he stalked back towards you.

“Are you sure you’re okay going from kissing straight to period sex?” You asked looking up at him.

“Angel, I’m a surgical resident; little blood isn’t going to scare me off,” he said, with a small quirk on his lips, “Are you okay with going straight to sex?” he asked as he stroked the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Yes, Sir” you answered, a mischievous smile never leaving your lips as Mihawk gripped your chin and jerked your face upward in a firm grip.

“What did you just say Angel?” he asked with an unsettling air of calmness.

“Sir,” you responded smugly, doubling down, “That is what you like Shanks to call you right?” you asked, “Or is there someone else he’s calling out to when he cums?”

“Darling, I’d tread lightly if I were you; I’d hate to have to spend our first time together correcting your behavior.” He said, stroking your cheek.

“So, you don’t want me to call you Sir?” you asked, with an air of faux innocence. You bit your lip to contain your smile as you saw a phantom twitch in his right eye. You had only ever seen Shanks be able to warrant that reaction. You decided to reel in your teasing before you crossed to the point of no return.

“Angel, as long as you’re cumming on my cock you can call me whatever you’d like,” he whispered into your ear, nipping at it. The smirk returned to his face as an involuntary whine left your lips.

“Now, I’ll ask you again. Do you want this?” he asked pulling back to see your whole face.

“Yes,” you whined as a wave of cramps shot through you; reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

“And your safe word?” he asked.

“Peach,” you answered, “Yours?”

“Code,” he answered, “Do you have any hard stops?”

“Just please don’t touch my chest or refer to me in feminine terms.” You say trying your hardest to maintain eye contact while being vulnerable.

“Of course, darling,” he said pecking your forehead, “Is it okay if I take this off?” he asked tugging at your oversized top. You nod enthusiastically lifting your arms to help him. Once it’s off you tug off your pajama pants and period underwear leaving you bare. It takes everything in your power not to cover your chest as Mihawk takes you in; a soft look on his face.

“What?” you ask after a moment.

“I always knew you were a beauty, but I never expected you to be this lovely,” he answered earnestly stroking up and down your sides. You could feel the heat return to your face at his genuine response.

“Can we get in the shower now? I don’t want to bleed on the counter” you ask looking up at him. He nodded; your comment seemed to snap him out of his daze. He once again had you wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and walked over to the shower. He shed his pants and underwear before stepping in. A pleasant sigh escaped you as the hot water graced your skin. Thankfully you and Mihawk both preferred showers that were just below scalding. He placed you down and turned you so that his front was to your back. The shower head spray was adjusted to hit your lower stomach and core. An involuntary whine escaped you as you felt his hard-on pressed against your back. You were about to start grinding back against it before Mihawk placed a firm hand on your hip to keep you in place.

“Patience, love,” he said, reaching down to rest his other hand above your mound, “I have to prep you first; is this okay,” he asked reaching between your legs. You nodded, spreading your legs to give him better access.

“Words,” he said, hovering right above where you wanted him.

“Please, Sir,” you whine, unable to grind up to meet him because of his other hand holding you stationary. He hummed in approval finally stroking over your slit. He made a few agonizingly slow passes before finally breaching your slit. He again traced your entrance twice before inserting a single finger.

“Please, Sir more,” you whined, “I can take it-” You started before a moan cut through you as he ground his palm against your clit. He looped his arm around your waist pulling you back so that you could rest your body weight against him giving him better access to your core.

“Shh, it’s okay, just let Sir take care of you,” he responded, placing a kiss behind your right ear, before kissing and sucking his way down to your shoulder. You fell lax against his sturdy frame as he slipped another finger into your core, he pulled another whine from you as his fingers thrusted and curled around your front wall. He easily hit spots you could only dream of reaching on your own. A cry erupted from you as he suddenly increased his pace and depth of his fingers. Now every thrust had his palm smacking down on your clit. His own urges reared its head as he began to shamelessly grind against your back. You moan in response as your own resolve fades quickly as the coil inside you winds tighter and tighter.

“It’s okay Angel, you can let you. Just give me one and I’ll let you cum on my cock as many times as you like,” he said encouragingly, before pulling you in for a desperate kiss. You put up more resistance than you did in your initial kiss causing him to nip at your bottom lip. Simultaneously his arm wrapped around your waist loosened and joined his other hand at your core. You moan into the kiss as he began to rub your clit in succession with his thrust. Your climax began to build as you both found a rhythm. You had just gotten used to the rhythm when he suddenly pinched your clit. Your climax snapped through you at the sudden change in stimulation. Your pussy held his fingers in a vice grip as you rode out your high on his hand.

You fell fully slack against him as you came down from your high.

“Fuck so good Angel,” he praised slowly easing his fingers out of your core, “Knew you’d be perfect.”

“Sir, please,” you whined grinding back against him.

“Love,” he said in a warning tone hand back at its station on your hip.

“I want you, please Sir, I wanna be full again,” you moan as the momentary relief from cramps lapsed and the pain in your core returned. You stretched your head over your shoulder, pulling him in for another kiss. You were so focused on his mouth you didn’t realize he had switched positions until the coldness of the tiled wall met your back. You pulled back in a daze now front to front. You were snapped back to reality when you pulled back and felt the twitch of his cock against your stomach. Your eyes widened as you took in his size. You now understood why Shanks was so loud during sex, if you were being fucked by that on the reg you’d be screaming too.

“Sir,” you say hesitantly breaking eye contact with his cock and looking up at him.

“It’ll fit,” he said, seemingly reading your mind. He rubbed reassuring circles into your hips with his thumbs, “We’ll go slow. I’ll make it worth your while if you can be patient for just a little bit longer.”

“Unless you want to stop now, I won’t be mad if it’s too much for you right now,” he said offering you an out.

“No-” You answered quickly, “I mean, I’m comfortable continuing,” You corrected yourself, trying to play off how desperate you were for his cock. Despite your efforts, a knowing smirk still pulled across Mihawk’s face.

“Are you sure?” he asked teasingly,

“Yes,” you replied much calmer than your last response. He nodded hiking your right leg over his hip for better access.

“Are you ready?” he confirmed one more time. He began to tease his tip between your folds as you said yes one last time. His cock was soon lubed up with your blood and slick as he gently pushed the head of his dick into your entrance. He rocked back and forth slowly allowing you time to adjust to his jarring size.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he bottomed out. You found it almost impossible to focus on anything other than the pulses of his member deep inside of you.

“Shh, relax darling; I got you,” he said, pressing you firmer into the wall as he once again scooped you up into his arms. Both of your legs were wrapped around his middle as he leaned into you to keep you from sliding down the wall. You were effectively sandwiched between him and the wall. You held onto him for dear life as he suddenly began to thrust into you at a slow pace.

“More, please” you whined desperately. You were so full of him that his tip just kissed your cervix without pressing into it uncomfortably. While the slow pace was nice at first as you adjusted it began to drive you mad as you wished more than anything that he would start to fuck you like he means it.

“Patients,” he cooed down at you with a self-satisfied look, “I don’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, tears beginning to kiss at the corners of your eyes. You wanted, no need to cum. The languid pace he had set was driving you mad.

“Sir, please,” you whined desperately.

“Please, what Angel?” he asked, the stupid smirk still plastered on his face.

“Fast,” you panted.

“You want me to go faster?” he asked, with fake ignorance.

“Fuck, please!” you border-lined shouted, “I’ll do whatever you want, please fuck me” you cried as tears began to fall down your face in two lines, one below each eye.

“Anything?” He asked bemused with a smirk, speeding up slightly, but not enough to make cum any faster than before.

“Yes,” you cried. He hummed in fake contemplation before responding.

“Okay, but you owe me one,” he answered coyly before he slowly pulled out and slammed back into you full force. A sigh of relief leaves you before he leans down. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you at the new angle. He quickened his pace, stroking longer and deeper inside you at every thrust. Your nails dug into the pristine white plane of his back leaving scratched down the stretch of his upper back as you tried to hold on the best you could. All you could do was helplessly moan as Mihawk used you as he pleased.

“Fuck,” he moaned, followed by a deep groan of your name. You could feel the pleasure building up in your core as you quickly approached your end.

“Fuck, please Sir can I cum? I’m so clos-” you started before you were cut off by your own moan. Tears began to prick at your eyes again, not out of frustration like earlier, but at the pure feeling of overstimulation you were now experiencing. “I’m sooo close please Sir” you whined.

“Go ahead Angel,” he said before pulling you in for a desperate kiss that he dominated. That was all the permission you needed; your body seized up like you were possessed as your orgasm ripped through you. Your pussy milking Mihawk’s cock for all it was worth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he pulled out seconds before his own orgasm. He painted your stomach with his release, as your empty cunt clenched around nothing. He carefully lowered you back to the floor as you both tried to get your heart rates down to normal levels. He made quick work of cleaning your body as he raced against the now lukewarm water falling against your body. He had just managed to finish cleaning both of you seconds before the water went cold. He took his time drying your body, before bundling you up in one of his towels and placing you on the ledge of the tub.

A shiver ripped through your spent form as the cold air of your air-conditioned apartment invaded the space when he opened the door. A yawn escaped you as you patiently waited for him to come back. Your eyes had just begun to droop when he came back clad only in a pair of boxer briefs. He helped you into a pair of your period underwear and an oversized shirt. You bit your lip to contain your smile as you took in the logo of his medical school across the chest of the t-shirt. He had specifically gotten a shirt from his room instead of one of the ones you had stolen from Shanks over the years. You sleepily followed him through the living room and down the hall to the doors of your bedrooms.

On autopilot, you turned left to go to your room before a gentle tug on your wrist stopped your movement. You sleepily glance up at Mihawk and tilted your head in lieu of talking.

“You can stay in our room if you want,” he offered avoiding eye contact as a blush bloomed on his cheeks.

“Oh, okay,” you say as the proposition snaps you out of your daze. You followed Mihawk in and crawled into the bed.

“Wait, what about Shanks?” you asked.

“What about him?” Mihawk asked back.

“Would it make him feel weird to share a bed with me without a heads up?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“No,” Mihawk said, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips, “I think it’d be a nice surprise; especially after a long shift.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply as fatigue begins to overtake your body.

“Do you need anything else before we go to sleep?” Mihawk asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Um, maybe my heating pad and some water,” you answer.

“Okay,” he nodded, taking off back to the living room and kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile as you lay enveloped in their scents. You managed to stay awake just long enough to take a few swigs of water and position yourself on your side with the heating pad flush against your lower abdomen. Mihawk curled up behind you, your fingers interlaced over your heating pad. You slept better than you had in a long time, especially for being on your period. You couldn’t tell if you had dreamt it or not, but you could have sworn someone had pecked your forehead and cocooned you between their chest and Mihawk’s. The faint smell of sandalwood was the last sensation your body recognized before drifting off to the next dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 2

A/N:

Hope you enjoyed this one shot! Hopefully, this can find some other baddies suffering through their period. As always thanks for taking the time to read.

-Locke

[robertdowneyjjr]

HAPPY BDAYYYY !!! coincidentally it is also my mom's bday today lol, here's a lil buckytony for u !!!

which connects to my prompt: tony is used to feeling cold, he had to be (the cave was so cold in the death of the night) and he knows that bucky is, too, even if the man always seem to run hot due to the serum. well, it's the winter season, what better excuse does he have except that he needs a human blanket? basically tony holding hands, hugging, or cuddling bucky to fend off the cold !!

happy birthday again !!!

hello!!! i’m SO sorry this took practically half a year but i just want you to know that your art makes me so happy and seeing this in my inbox was one of the best gifts i could have asked for. bucky and tony are so fucking cute and i’m obsessed with bucky’s blush and tony’s eyelashes 🥰 i hope your mom also had a lovely time celebrating her birthday!!

anyway, without delaying this any further than i already have—

———

Bucky had never been able to feel anything with the heavy silver arm that was forced onto him, which made it useful as a shield as well as a blunt force weapon. It was perfect for the Winter Soldier, the unfeeling assassin whose sole existence was to comply orders and complete missions. Having it blown off may have been a shock at first, but it had quickly morphed into relief when Bucky had realized that losing the arm was the first real step towards finally, truly breaking free from the shackles of Hydra.

Since having his triggers removed and embarking on his slow journey towards recovery, Bucky has decided that he has no interest in fighting anymore, keen to stay home and monitor the feeds while the rest of the team is out being heroes. He’s happy to be retired, happy to uncover new things about himself as he learns how to bake croissants and build terrariums. It’s a kind of peace he never thought he’d be able to have when he was trapped for seventy years as a prisoner of war, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So when he had been asked what he would like in a new prosthetic, Bucky had said, just a regular arm; no super strength, no nifty weapons hidden in the plates. Just a functional part of his body for him to get through his daily life.

Tony had gone above and beyond, presenting Bucky with a prosthetic that had far exceeded his expectations. Not only is the arm intuitive, with nanobots that shift like real muscle and fat as Bucky moves, but it is also regulated to match the rest of Bucky’s body in strength and temperature. If it had been painted a color to match Bucky’s skin, it would almost be indiscernible to a real arm.

Despite the prosthetic being made with the most advanced technology the world has to offer—despite all the cyborg jokes his friends like to tease him with—Bucky has never felt more human.

With the new arm, Tony hadn’t just given Bucky back a sense of normalcy. He’d also given Bucky a brighter future than he had ever dared to imagine.

He still remembers the day in the lab after they had run through their last series of tests with the new arm.

He had just put down the stress ball they used for the pressure test, still marveling at how he could feel the texture of the rubber, when Tony had spoken up.

“Okay. One last thing I’d like us to try. Hold your hand out?”

Bucky had done as he was asked, not quite sure what to expect, when Tony had reached out with his right hand and wound their fingers together. He hadn’t been able to hold back a gasp, staring at their joined hands as he felt the cold of Tony’s hand seeping through the warmth that he hadn’t realized was coming from his own arm. Then Tony had squeezed once, affectionately, stepping closer until they were only inches apart, and Bucky’s heart had stuttered in his chest as he glanced up and saw the way Tony had been smiling at him.

“How does this feel?” Tony had asked, red faintly dusting his cheeks in a way Bucky had been sure no one else had ever seen before.

Feeling whole and brave, and like the ice in his veins is finally starting to melt for the first time in decades, Bucky had gently squeezed back.

“Good. It feels nice. You feel nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“Well, good. You’re warm, so I think I’ll be holding on to you for a while. You know, just to stave off the cold,” Tony had declared.

“Sure thing, doll.”

Tony is tactile. That had been the first thing that Bucky learned about Tony when the team had been pardoned, made their amends with each other, and gone back to New York.

His touches are gentle and reassuring, drawing smiles from whoever he has focused his attention on at the moment. Rhodes leans into the hand that Tony brushes against his back as he walks by, for a moment relying on his friend’s strength instead of his leg braces. Natalia is a constant presence by Tony’s side during movie nights, bumping her head against his hand like a cat just so he would play with her hair. Peter beams like he’s aced a test every time Tony squeezes his shoulder affectionately after helping with his physics homework. Steve rolls his eyes fondly whenever Tony pokes his abs teasingly after a workout, but always teases right back by lifting his shirt up to goad Tony into doing it again.

Being touched by Tony is like a drug, and Bucky has been addicted since the first time Tony held his hand. Which is just as well, because when Tony said he would be holding on for a while, he wasn’t kidding.

After that first time in the lab, Tony always, always holds Bucky close when they’re together.

He takes Bucky by the hand and drags him to dinner with the team, never loosening his grip even when Sam raises a pointed eyebrow at their joined hands. “For warmth,” Tony says, and when he takes his place at the table, he promptly kicks Steve out of his usual spot because he refuses to release their entwined fingers. Bucky just watches amusedly as Steve takes his old seat next to Rhodes and sits down next to Tony, only letting go so he can scoot closer and swing his arm across the back of Tony’s chair as they eat.

He drapes Bucky’s left arm over his shoulder when they’re out, snuggling close to his side as they take the long way walking home after dinner. “For warmth,” Tony says, even though he’s wrapped up in several layers of expensive wool and cashmere. Bucky just pulls him in tighter and steers him towards their favorite gelato bar for dessert, because even though Tony runs cold and always claims he doesn’t like sweets, Bucky knows he’d never say no to ice cream.

He sleeps on the right side of the bed so he can use Bucky’s arm as another pillow, despite knowing the hard planes of metal can’t possibly be comfortable for him. “For warmth,” Tony says as he presses a kiss to Bucky’s reconstructed shoulder and dozes off under their weighted blanket made of the fluffiest down feathers. Bucky just smiles indulgently and curls in closer, perfectly happy to tolerate overheating in his sleep if it means going to bed every night with his favorite person in the world.

Having Tony in his arms warms him from the inside out, like an endless summer after a lifetime spent lost in the cold.

[paranoidginger]

Mann or Machine

A post-Spy's Disguise Engiespy angst fic (For real though, please go watch Spy's Disguise by Fortress Films on YouTube if you have not! This takes place after that short movie, and has references to Emesis Blue as well!)

Tw: Minor Gore, Violence, and Body Horror

At first, the change between human and machine was a blessing, a self-taught command that gave him the upper hand and made him feel nearly immortal. After the sawmill incident, all of that changed, however. The changes became unpredictable, uncontrollable... The intersecting of man and metal was never meant to be, it was an error in the program of a broken disguise kit. It had broken the moment it hit the first sentry, and the rest, as they say, is history.

At first, it had felt like a superpower, something to flaunt and embrace; Now, however, it felt more like a curse. After the nightmares, and seeing the video that doctor Fritz Ludwig had taken while in his care, it was clear that it was an ailment, as opposed to anything else... He and the engineer that kept him company had lost contact with the doctor not long after the incident, both dismissed from their faction of Builders League United and left to make themselves as normal lives as they could, without any aid from the company.

The pair had moved onto land that the Engineer already had in his possession, a small ranch, fairly isolated, but close enough to a nearby town to get regular groceries and whatever tinkering supplies the engineer could have possibly wanted. It was safe there... But all the same, Spy struggled with himself, unable to properly regulate and prevent the unwanted shifts between man and machine. PTSD... That's what Doctor Ludwig had called it... Post traumatic stress disorder... It wasn't surprising, after what he had gone through...

Spy sat quietly, his mind buzzing as he tried to read a book. He was on high alert, by himself in the little ranch house he shared with his dearest Engineer... They hadn't always gotten along, some days were better than others, but they had been able to bond as colleagues, then as comrades, and now... Perhaps they were more. He was all alone, poor Pierre DuPont, left to his own devices as he waited for Hal to return from the store.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye as his arm raised, as if by reflex, rotating barrels taking over and spraying shots towards what the machine in the back of his mind deemed a potential intruder. He hadn't heard whenever the engineer had opened the door and came inside, bags of fresh groceries in hand as he made his way to the kitchen, interrupted by the sudden spray of bullets. The wall beside him was marred with bullet holes, all but one having missed their target.

"D'aw shit-" The man muttered quietly, hissing as he lightly touched the blossoming wound in his side. "T-that's my fault... I didn't mean to spook ya, darlin'..." He exhaled a shaky laugh, carefully setting the bags of groceries down beside him as he pressed his hand to the bloodied hole in his side.

The Spy scrambled to his feet, unable to force his arm back to normal as he dropped the book he had been holding, rushing to the other man as he wobbled slightly on his feet. This wasn't supposed to happen...

"No! Non, please... Mon dieu... I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh..." He cut the Spy off, not allowing another word from the taller man "It's okay, I've had worse. One bullet ain't gonna put me in the ground." He looked up at the spy, watching as the other man continued to panic. Gently, he patted the other man's cheek, grabbing his shoulder gently after a moment "Look at me, Pierre, I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna go get myself patched up, you take care of these here groceries, alright? I'll be ok, I promise." Hal gave a small smile, sighing gently as he made his way to the bathroom to patch himself up, making sure to be loud enough for the other man to be able to hear him as the Spy got to work, carefully putting away the groceries as he fought to push his guilt and worries down.

That night was quiet, Pierre having eventually corrected his arm once again with his Engineer's help. They sat on the couch together, Hal's arm wrapped gently around the other man's shoulders as they watched a movie together, the Spy eventually falling asleep at his side.

Pierre's sleep was plagued with nightmares, memories of Hal 'dying' playing back in his mind, followed by the fresh scene of him shot and bloodied by the Spy's own hands. He met the machine again... A twisted mirror version of himself, a robot with his face... It had been peaceful that first time, but now, it came at him, aiming for the jugular.

Hal was jostled awake by the seizing, jerky movements of his unconscious partner, bits of him swapping in and out of humanity, his head tipped back slightly as his mouth began to froth. Quickly, the engineer grabbed hold of Pierre, hugging him gently as he carefully moved him down onto the floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way as he fumbled to grab a small flashlight off of the wooden surface.

"Shit- shit, goddamn it-" He straddled the Spy as he continued to seize and twitch on the floor, gently opening one of the other man's eyes and shining the light into the dilated pupil, wincing slightly as it failed to react. Metallic barrels took over both forearms, rotating back and forth with jerky, clicking movement.

"Come on, damn it! Wake up!" The engineer grabbed the front of the other man's shirt, wincing at the pain in his side as he attempted to wake him up, shaking him slightly. "Come on!" He shouted through his teeth, his eyes beginning to water slightly as he knelt over Pierre's seizing body.

After a moment, his arms returned to normal, the seizure seeming to finally come to an end. Quietly, Hal watched, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping the side of the Spy's face, watching as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. Pierre shuddered slightly, his eyes opening just a bit before Hal was forced to yank his hand away, the familiar rocket barrels of a sentry closing around the man's head, the rise and fall of his chest becoming shallow and frantic as he awoke.

Pierre let out a muffled, mechanical scream, grabbing and clawing at what had once been his face. Quickly, the Engineer moved off of him, hissing slightly in pain as he hoisted the other man into a sitting position, grabbing one of his hands and hugging him gently as he traced his thumb over the other's palm.

"Breathe! I need ya to breathe for me!" Hal called gently, worry evident in his tone as he held the other man close, preventing him from scratching and clawing at the metal that now covered his face. It took some time, but eventually, the Spy's breathing returned mostly to normal.

The rocket launcher that had replaced his face lifted once again, pulling away from his head with the mechanical arm that had placed it there to begin with, tucking back down into the motor that had protruded from his back, which slowly retracted inside of him, leaving the surface of his back no different than any other man's...

"There you go... There you are, darlin'... I've got you..." The Engineer spoke softly gently cupping the other man's cheek for a moment before the spy slipped his hands beneath Hal's arms, pulling him closer and hiding his face in the crook of the smaller man's neck, shaking as small sobs wracked his thin frame. "It's gonna be alright, sunshine..." Hal's voice was soft and gentle as he held the other man close, beginning to rub his back slightly as he just sat there, doing his best to comfort Pierre.

The next incident was nearly a week after Pierre had shot Hal by accident. Another late night, another bad dream... He thought he would be fine... He had woken up, just like he had so many times before.

The Spy made his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake his sleeping partner, turning the water on and running his hands beneath it, splashing his face slightly before looking at himself in the mirror... His eyes were blue again... They weren't supposed to be blue... There was a metallic clink as his arm hit the edge of the sink, feeling too heavy to hold up as it shifted once again to the multi-barreled machine gun that he couldn't keep from happening, his other arm following suit. It hurt this time... Why was it hurting? It had never hurt before.

He took a couple of steps back, his breaths catching in his throat as he began to run, stumbling slightly as he made it to his room... Their room... After everything, he couldn't find it in him to sleep alone... He had shut the door.. He bumped it with his shoulder before ramming it harder, pain radiating through the contact points as began to shout.

"Wake up! Hal please-" His legs gave out beneath him, the motor on his back popping out once again, and that horrible metal arm forcing the launcher barrels back over his head, muffling his cries for help as the rest of his body folded in on itself, leaving a sentry once again in his place.

Congratulations, you made it to the end! I'm leaving it up to the readers to help me decide whether I want to leave it as a one shot, or if I should give this another chapter! Feel free to vote below!!

Part 2

[your-name-is-jim]

What a Kirk/Spock shipper sees in a Kirk/Female-Love-Interest story [PART 2/2]

Part 1 <- Please read Part 1 first. Part 2 won't make sense otherwise!

This panel is absolutely AMAZING and you all deserved to see it :D

So, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, Laura just proposed.

As you can see, Jim is panicking not sure what to answer, so the first thing he does is calling his two best friends. There are so many things going on here; I'll try to mention everything I care about!

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together."

This is an important part of this comic: apparently, in this story Starfleet isn't encouraging relationships between officers with a different rank. I know it's sort of implied in canon too, but it's not always clear if it's actually against regulations or if it's fine when the ranks are close.

As a K/S shipper, this detail just gives me an in-universe reason why Jim and Spock aren't considering dating each other in this story: a commander can't probably have a relationship with a captain. I mean, we already know from canon TOS that Jim avoids relationships with the members of his crew, so this just adds a layer to a potential forbidden love story between them. Yeah, I know this isn't what this comic is trying to do, but what can I say? Fans don't stop shipping something just because they learn it's not allowed in-universe… if anything, they can find it more exciting! :D

"We could teach at the Academy. Mind you, she laughed at that idea."

Oh, wait. Jim actually talked to Laura about their possible future together! It looks like he's thinking about them as teachers at Starfleet Academy. Hmm… this sounds familiar:

2277 — Accepts appointment to Academy faculty, moves into San Francisco apartment

This is from Kirk's biography in Star Trek official website. Between The Motion Picture and The Wrath of Khan, Jim accepts a job at the Academy. We see it at the start of the second movie, after Saavik takes the Kobayashi Maru test.

Wait, who's the other teacher here? :D

Okay, okay, in that era Jim is an admiral and Spock is a captain, so their ranks are still different, but except for that… They both teach at the Academy. And it's literally what Jim proposed to his love interest Laura in the comic! With my Kirk/Spock goggles on, what I read in that panel is "If Laura and I got married, we could both do this thing that I'm totally going to do with Spock in the future." LOL

Did the comic creators notice the parallel? Probably not. However, we K/S shippers have special skills for finding accidental implications about our ship everywhere, so here it is :)

"Your thoughts, please, Mr. Spock."

I said I had a lot to say about that single panel, so of course I can't skip the last line! A human woman has just proposed to Jim, and what does Jim do? He asks for Spock's opinion. This says a lot about Jim and Spock's friendship, and it's very sweet on Jim's part, but it also makes me think about Jim's love life. What about Jim and Laura's romantic feelings for each other? Does Jim want to spend the rest of his life with her? Perhaps the reason they don't talk about it (not even with Bones!) is that it's implied that Jim loves her and she loves him, even if they never say it. However, I still think it's interesting that Jim's discussion on the matter is mostly "logical".

Anyway, I swear I won't post every single panel of this comic, but Spock's reply is an absolute gem you all must see:

"I AM SOMETHING OF AN EXPERT ON THE SUBJECT OF JAMES T. KIRK."

(dkjflsdjlkdjglk brb losing my mind again)

Ahem. Okay, Spock. Noted. Also, wow, nice make up. Did I say that the art in this comic is great? Good.

"I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness."

Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I find interesting his use of "equal status" instead of the more specific "equal rank". Status makes me think less of their official position in Starfleet, and more of how two people actually see each other. It's not just about Laura and Jim being both captains; it's about them seeing each other as equals.

Anyway, Jim jokes about Bones and Spock finally agreeing about something, and the conversation continues.

Jim's best friends are both encouraging him to marry Laura. In this panel, I zoomed in on Bones because his words are especially interesting. Based on everything we've seen so far, it looks like having a romantic partner when you're in Starfleet is a pain in the ass in general in this comic; however, Bones is pointing out that for the first time, Jim has someone who really understands. Of course, that's because she's a Starfleet captain too.

About Spock, I won't share the entire conversation, but I just want to say that as a K/S shipper who likes to think Spock is secretly in love with Jim in this era, I find his dialogue where he's supporting Jim's relationship with Laura totally reasonable. It's important to remember that this comic takes place close to the end of the five-year mission. We know that Spock is going to run away after that, trying to erase all his emotions in Gol. So, in this specific part of his story, I find pretty in character that he'd tell Jim to find happiness with someone else. That's what he'd do, regardless of his own feelings.

So, Jim knows his two best friends think he should say "yes" to Laura. What happens next?

During a mission, Jim meets his ex Carol Marcus. She is surprised to find out that Jim is considering settling down. This is not completely related to this analysis, so I won't post it, but I found interesting that Carol knows about every single woman Jim dated before he became captain (the only one she doesn't name is Ruth), and she even says "And that woman in 1930, what was her name?" Just… how the hell does she know? LMAO

At least Jim hasn't told her about Miramanee and Rayna (well, technically he doesn't even remember the latter), but seriously, Carol does know a lot about Jim's private life, even if it's clear she doesn't want her or their son to be part of it. (Not really related to this plot, but in case you're confused about the timeline: David is a child in this era; however, he doesn't appear in this story.)

Anyway, this is what she eventually tells him:

So, I like to think that Carol is genuinely trying to help Jim here, because the spiteful ex girlfriend is another thing I don't really want to see in 2020. I want to think that the creators meant well; however, what happens in the story is that, despite Jim not seeing himself outside the captain's chair, and despite his best friends telling him to marry the captain that is just like him… Jim keeps thinking about Carol's words.

He knows from Starfleet that he's going to be promoted to admiral the moment he reaches Earth. What is interesting here is that Jim could refuse the promotion and be a captain with Laura. This is definitely a different situation from everything else I've seen before. It's obvious to anyone who has watched TOS movies that Jim is not happy as an admiral. He didn't really want to be one. He doesn't want to be one in this comic series either (you can see it explored in Star Trek: Year Five main story). However, thanks to The Motion Picture, we also know that he will accept promotion at the end of his five-year mission. This isn't a canon divergence story: the writers can't really change any major event, so they have to work with what canon offers.

What I find interesting is that in this 2020 comic, Jim finds himself in the opposite situation he is in Gene Roddenberry's The Motion Picture novelization from 1979. In Roddenberry's novel, it's mentioned briefly that Jim starts a relationship on Earth with a vice-admiral, a woman that was basically asked to use her charm to keep Jim grounded. Jim could refuse promotion, but he finds himself lost, without his ship, without Spock, and eventually without Bones. So he tries to convince himself that a life as an admiral with a perfect woman by his side will be good for him (it will not; Jim himself will realize a year later that his lover was an "Enterprise-surrogate").

Now, I understand trying to write something fresher and more modern in this Valentine's Day special, but I confess that I find a little hard to believe that Jim would accept a promotion as admiral if the alternative was keeping both a starship AND a wife. Also, let's not forget that Spock and Bones are both telling him to choose the married captain life. So, while I totally get from a writer's point of view that if you can't change canon, you have to work with what you have, I'm also not sure that Carol reminding Jim that he's always wanted to challenge himself is enough to make him doubt everything.

I guess I can sort of see that as part of a bigger problem: Jim knows he can't be a captain for life; during his first date with Laura, as we saw in Part 1 of my analysis, he talks about it.

"I've been thinking lately about whether I could ever stop being a Starfleet captain. Whether I could ever want to. A friend of mine talks about 'infinite diversity'. That applies to the Federation, too. But here I am, only built for one thing."

So, Jim knows he has probably avoided the subject for too long. Carol is forcing him to think about it. And, more implicitly, we could say Spock and his IDIC philosophy are also making him think, even if it's not what Spock would have expected. After all, Spock told Jim to marry Laura (in the comic), and he'll tell him that being a starship captain is his "first, best destiny" (in The Wrath of Khan).

Anyway, Jim eventually decides to meet Laura and talk to her about his personal concerns. First of all, we find out that the two of them haven't called each other for six weeks. Laura is still waiting for Jim's answer, and she didn't want to call him. If you ask me, their lack of communication is yet another a big clue that perhaps getting married is not a great idea.

Well, now Jim is at least trying to talk to her.

Aaand that's how she breaks up with him.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. I mean, in a sense, Jim doesn't say "I decided to be an admiral instead of marrying you", but Laura definitely sees it that way. I think he was genuinely looking for help, but that just proves that Laura isn't the right person for him. Why marrying someone you can't communicate with? They are such a great team as captains, but it looks like that doesn't apply to their relationship. I pointed out other clues in the previous parts, and now we got this. It's interesting to see that Jim in this comic can have a normal conversation about his future with Spock, Bones, and even Carol Marcus, but not with the person he's supposed to build a future with. Unless something changes between them, it can't work out.

Anyway, this isn't the end.

A year later, when Jim is an admiral on Earth, there's a sudden emergency. A miniature black hole appears out of the deep structure of the universe (don't blame me for the science, I'm literally quoting the comic LOL) and it's attracted to Earth gravity. Short story: they're all going to die, but fortunately the Drake (Laura's ship) can cause an anti-matter implosion that will shunt the black hole outside their reality. Unfortunately, that also means the Drake will have to go inside the black hole. Laura evacuates her crew and asks Admiral Kirk to give her the order to proceed. Reluctantly, Jim tells her that he knows she'll do it, and he gives the order.

Now, please appreciate The Motion Picture aesthetic:

Okay, I know I could have chosen a panel with Jim and Laura, since this is literally their love story, but I did say this analysis was going to be biased, so here is Laura with her two closest friends instead; they would never let her risk her life alone! <3 They are very obviously meant to be a parallel to what Spock and Bones are to Jim, which is very cute to see. Now, Laura, listen to me: I know the three of you have different ranks, but you may die in a few seconds… And I just think that the few times your friends appear in this comic, you have a lot of chemistry with them, sooo maybe you should forget about Jim and just smooch one of them, or both… just saying :)

Ahem. Anyway, after Laura and her girlfriends disappear into the void, there's another timeskip. This time it's 15 years.

Oh, damn.

I said in the premise of this analysis that one of the reasons I decided to read this comic despite shipping Kirk/Spock is that, in my headcanon, Kirk and Spock get together after The Motion Picture. Until this point, this comic hasn't really gone against my headcanon. I can genuinely believe that Jim had another girlfriend during his five-year mission; it's not a big deal. Unfortunately for me, this comic has its last part taking place around The Final Frontier era. Dammit.

Well, it's just one comic. I read until this point; it'd be illogical not to read until the end, right? Nah, it's not logic. It's human curiosity. I know I won't like it, but I still want to see it.

Also, if there's something that I really don't want to see in modern media anymore, is female characters dying just to make male characters suffer. I can accept that in TOS show because it was made in the 1960s, but even TOS movies got better about it! Characters like Saavik and Gillian can have their own lives without having to die for a man's pain. It's not a coincidence that the writers had to kill Spock to make Jim suffer. Without digressing too much, I just wanted to say that K/S bias aside, I went into this comic hoping to read something different from another dead woman for Jim. I'm very glad that, at least about this, the comic creators didn't disappoint me!

So, in this story, it's been 15 years since Laura's disappearance (actually, it should be more, but I'll try not to nitpick, despite being the trekkies' favorite hobby :D). Anyway, the one with the whales The Voyage Home happened, and Jim is not an admiral anymore. He's happy to have a starship again, but he hasn't stopped questioning his life decisions.

We can also see that, 15 years later, he's reading the book Laura liked.

HOLD IT! WAIT WAIT WAIT! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? WHAT THE--

*inhales deeply*

(Friendly reminder to myself that what is obvious to me may not be obvious to everyone else, so I need to explain. Fine. I'll try.)

The screenshots I posted are from The Wrath of Khan, right after Spock's funeral. What Jim is doing there is reading the end of the book that Spock gave him for his birthday. He's mourning Spock.

In the comic panel, Jim has a new pair of glasses, because it takes place a little later in the timeline. But, except for that…

It's the same scene.

The same fucking scene.

I mean, come on! I can't even post the "they're the same picture" meme, because it's not funny if they're literally the same picture! Even the bookmark is the same!

The comic creators literally took a canon scene about Jim reading Spock's book after Spock is gone, and they redrew it with Jim reading Laura's book after Laura is gone. In a Valentine's Day special. Where Laura is Jim's love interest. They made a romantic scene with Jim and a woman that was originally about Jim and Spock.

(Brb, I'm going to chew a pillow until I calm down.)

So. Well. If you wondered why I thought there was something about Kirk/Spock in this comic… you have your answer. Perhaps the artist didn't think anything about it. I certainly do.

And I guess someone could say, "But Jim is still reading Laura's book 15 years later! That's true love!" Why yes, he's not reading Spock's book 15 years later, because he didn't stay without Spock for 15 years; he risked everything and lost all the most important things in his life to save Spock's soul.

Anyway, back to the comic. Starfleet receives a signal from the edge of Federation space. It's the Drake. Laura and her friends are alive.

Jim and Laura have a reunion after a long separation. Since they're both captains now, Jim thinks they are given a second chance.

Oh, whoops.

It's her turn now. It looks like being away for 15 years has changed her (as you can expect, honestly), and she's now glad to become an admiral. In this comic, that means Jim can't marry her. So, this is how the story ends:

So. Um.

This isn't a bad ending, but I also wouldn't exactly call it a happy ending. It's certainly not a happily ever after story. I'd call it open, maybe hopeful? Honestly, pretty much what I'd expect from a love story between an original character and Jim, so I can't say the writing is disappointing about that.

On the other hand, I can't personally imagine middle-aged Jim being so eager to start a romance again with someone he hasn't seen in 15 years who broke up with him 16 years ago. Perhaps he felt guilty about Laura's disappearance because if he had married her, they would have been part of a colonization fleet somewhere else and the incident wouldn't have happened the same way? Maybe. Personally, I would have found more believable an ending where Jim asks her to have dinner together or go for a walk, and then something romantic happening as they get to know each other again. But I can see why the creators wanted to bring up the marriage proposal again, just to close the circle. The comic is just 32 pages, so they did what they could.

"Unless there's someone else." "Not so much. I've been really busy."

Busy with what? Oh, right: Spock's death, Spock's body on Genesis, Spock's rebirth on Vulcan, the time travel (okay, that one wasn't 100% Spock-related), Spock's brother… Honestly, just say there's been a lot of Spock in your life, Jim, because that's the truth :)

On a more serious note, I guess that dialogue could mean that Jim has someone, but "he's been too busy" to do anything serious with them. However, as a K/S monoshipper I don't really like the idea of Jim being in an open relationship with Spock, so Jim's character in the entire scene in the end is just a big NOPE for me. Sorry.

That said, I found very interesting that in a few panels they show very clearly the "captain" rank on Jim and Laura's shoulders, to point out that it's the same. They can't be together forever, but they can have fun for a few days as captains. Because of that, I went back to the start of the last timeskip, just to check out something:

Fascinating.

This is a pretty detailed panel, where you can see the ranks on the shoulders of Jim's friends; the colors of their pins are also pretty good, close to the ones in the movies… except for Spock's.

Oh, please. Did you really expect me not to pay attention to this? :)

Captain Kirk and Captain Spock.

And unlike Laura, this is what they are until the end! The end of a very long life! Generations? What's Generations? Spock will eventually become an ambassador, but that's just a different job. How did Spock himself put it earlier in this comic?

"I am something of an expert on the subject of James T. Kirk. And I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness."

Did the comic creators just play themselves? I don't know, I'm quoting their own story here! LOL

And what about Jim's words from the same scene? :D

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together."

Partners. Of equal rank. Working together.

That's literally what Kirk and Spock are since the end of The Voyage Home! Without an expiration date!

The comic creators made a big deal in their universe about relationships being better between two captains, and how good Jim and Laura may have been for each other if they had married as captains; and now they can't have their happily ever after because Laura is going to be an admiral… But even if the comic tries to hide it, we know there is a captain in Jim's life. And to make things better, Jim lost his admiral rank to bring him back. Listen, I'm a huge Old Married Kirk/Spock fan, so there's no way anything can make me forget that in the last TOS movies they're both captains. And there's no way I can forget that Jim risked his entire career (and everything else!) for Spock, and that's literally why he's not an admiral anymore.

This is almost ironic in this Valentine's Day comic. If it hadn't been for Spock, Jim would have still been an admiral, and he could have married Laura. Whoops. Too bad.

Speaking of admirals, I didn't notice it at first, but there's also something about this line Laura says in the last panel I posted…

"And don't you dare 'Admiral' me."

Ah, yes, a typical thing you tell someone you're planning to have sex with. Right, Laura? Agreed :)

Honestly, at this point I should just stop checking this comic, because I wonder if I'd just end up finding a Kirk/Spock version of every Kirk/Laura Rhone line LOL

By the way, I have other thoughts to share now that the story is over, but there's one more thing first. Do you remember the last panels of the comic? Middle-aged Jim and Laura kiss; END.

Okay. After that, the comic has a picture of the cover, with Jim and Laura kissing when they're younger.

And then it has this:

dklsfjlskjflskjlksjlkdlkgjdlfgsnfjekniuwanf LISTEN, HOW--

Just how am I even supposed to say anything that makes sense about this…??? I'm just… I can't…

Okay. So. We're talking about a Valentine's Day comic. It makes sense for it to include a cute Valentine card. I also get that Spock's iconic line has become so mainstream that it can be quoted out of context. And you can make parodies.

But… But… A Star Trek TOS fan can't really forget the original context of "I have been and always shall be your friend"? Someone could just not think about it, I guess… But, well, I know that at least I can't forget that this is literally Spock's line to Jim rewritten in a romantic Valentine's Day version. I can't possibly NOT think about it!

And I know it's very possible that the people who worked on the comic story weren't even aware of this extra, but the fact that I'm seeing this after reading about Jim Kirk's romance without happily ever after… Jim kisses a woman he can't stay with forever, and then there's Spock's "I have been and always shall be your Valentine". It's just so fucking funny. I can't. If I was feeling a little down after seeing middle-aged Jim wanting to marry Laura, now I'm laughing again. Thanks, Spock's silly Valentine card. I needed it! :D

Anyway, what did I say about this comic taking things originally created for Kirk and Spock's relationship and making them romantic when they're not about them? I can believe that sometimes it's a coincidence, but this card? Please… In a sense, this is the perfect ending.

---

Conclusions.

I started this comic with a question: in 2020, how do you write a story about TOS Kirk falling in love? I wanted to see this attempt. Overall, I think the creators did what they could. Laura is different from every other woman in Jim's life; they didn't kill her off, and they also didn't force a happy ending. I think they did a good job with the canon limitations they had, especially in 32 pages.

Do I believe that Laura could have been a good match for Jim in different circumstances?

As a temporary girlfriend? Yes.

As a lifelong partner? No.

Of course, I'm aware my answer is biased, but I can try to be a little more "logical" about it.

First of all, I think that the comic itself supports my interpretation: of course, like in every story, different people are going to see different things; however, as I already pointed out, Jim and Laura never say that they love each other, and before the marriage proposal their relationship is pretty casual.

In The Original Series, Jim isn't lucky when it comes to romance because the women he falls in love with can't really understand his nature as a space explorer. Sometimes they can, like in Carol's case, and that's why they break up with him. Laura is the opposite, because she's just like Jim. But here is the thing: I think Laura is too much like him.

What would have happened if Jim had accepted to marry her at the end of the five-year mission? They would have been both captains. On different ships, though. Sure, they could have been part of the same colonization fleet, as Jim says in the comic, and maybe it would have worked for a while. However, would they really have seen each other as much as Jim needs?

I don't know about Laura, but we see multiple times in canon that behind his mask as a starship captain, Jim is definitely more lonely than what someone may think.

First of all, don't get me wrong: in these screenshots from The Naked Time, Jim is single, so of course his attraction to Janice Rand is related to that. It's not the same situation he'd be in if he were married to Laura. Early in the series, he has thoughts about his yeoman exactly because he doesn't have anyone else. Contrary to his fame as a womanizer, TOS Jim in canon always has one woman at a time in his mind, never more.

So, why am I sharing those lines? To show that when Jim is always inside the Enterprise, he does feel lonely. He needs a romantic partner's physical touch. However, we also know that Jim does not want a relationship with one of his subordinates, so Janice Rand and the rest of his crew are off limits.

Laura is good for him because she's part of Starfleet, and not a subordinate. But is that really enough? From what I've seen in the comic, no. At the end of the day, it looks to me that Jim and Laura don't really know how to plan a future together. Perhaps it's because they're so similar, but they don't really think of themselves as a couple, especially Laura. There's Captain James T. Kirk and Captain Laura Rhone; they both love their ships, so they should get married? That's not how it works.

Their relationship is casual. Jim doesn't want to define it. Are they friends with benefits? Are they in an open relationship? Either way, when Laura decides to marry him, she asks around if Jim has someone else, and only after that she asks him. Jim, on the other hand, doesn't talk to her for six weeks after her proposal. He talks to Spock and Bones immediately, but not to her. He even talks to Carol first.

Then, when Jim finally tries to talk to her about his problems, she doesn't listen. Their lack of communication is the cause of their break up.

16 years later, what we see is even worse. It's obvious that Laura has just different priorities. Maybe it's because of what happened to her lost in space, but I'm not sure. If they had married at the end of the five-year mission, would have Laura always refused a promotion to admiral? Would she have tried to get a promotion with Jim? Based on what we see in this comic, it doesn't look likely to me.

Now, as I said, different people are going to see different things, so I'm sure that someone really invested in this romance can imagine that Jim and Laura are really meant to be, and they can get their happy ending after their retirement, or in other ways. However, I admit that Jim and Laura's huge communication issues make hard to me to picture a long happy relationship between them. They should both try to get better, but in those 32 pages there was no hint towards that direction.

There's another thing that makes really hard to find any love interest for Jim as a plausible "happily ever after" option: the stakes. I know that it's just a single comic, so the creators had to focus on a few things; however, I couldn't help but notice that Jim and Laura never really save each other from dangerous situations. They work together as a team, and Jim watches Laura disappearing into the void, but does he do anything about it? Does he try to reach her inside her ship before she disappears into the black hole? Does he try to bring her back from the void? No, he doesn't.

In TOS show and movies, Jim Kirk risks so much for his crew and his ship that a Star Trek fan can't believe that a new woman is the love of his life, unless Jim is willing to do for her everything he does for his friends. And honestly, after The Search for Spock… how can he even come close to do that?

And it's not just about Jim's actions. There's his language too. At the start of the third movie, Jim refers to Spock as "the noblest part of myself". What could he say about a love interest that is as deep as this?

Let's be honest here: the reason it's so hard to write a story about Jim Kirk's true love is that the real love story for him has already been written. You may not see it romantically, but Kirk and Spock's story is absolutely a love story. And when a character has someone he loves so deeply, it's not easy to convince the audience that he could have someone new to love as deeply. In Jim's case, the combination of his personality and his canon life makes it almost impossible.

Anyway, before I end up not so accidentally turning this analysis into a complete Kirk/Spock ship manifesto, I'm just going to mention one silly thing about the Valentine's Day comic. Please, don't take it too seriously, I'm half-joking :)

So, there are two kiss scenes in the story: one when Jim and Laura start to spend a lot of free time together, and one in the last panel. Well, I can't believe Jim isn't holding Laura's shoulders when he kisses her! That's just the basis of the way Jim kisses women! D:

Different Star Trek characters kiss in different ways; it fits their personalities. And because the rest of my TOS posts are probably too gay for these gifs, I'm dropping them as references here:

Sorry, but if Jim Kirk doesn't grab someone's shoulders before a kiss, it just kills my immersion! :P

Okay, a little more seriously: Jim doesn't always kiss women the same way; however, his "shoulder grab" is common enough that you definitely notice it if you pay attention. Because of that, I think it would have been nice to include it in the Valentine's Day comic.

After reading this comic, what kind of person would I consider perfect for Jim?

Well, my answer is obvious. However, I'll try to elaborate.

First of all, this story definitely convinced me even more that Jim can only be really happy with another Starfleet officer (or at least someone who's been deeply involved with Starfleet). He also needs someone who understands him as a space explorer, without trying to keep him grounded. And someone very smart, of course. These are all traits Laura has. But they're just the basis.

I don't think Jim needs someone in command of their own ship as a lifelong partner. As I said before, I can't really imagine it working out. Another starship captain would have their own goals and their own ambitions; that doesn't mean Jim shouldn't marry someone with specific plans for their own career, but I think these plans should keep the two of them close, not on different ships. Jim needs his partner physically at his side; if he could be happy in a long-distance relationship, I believe we would have seen at least one working out in canon. But it's never the case. Working on different starships from the same fleet would be a little better, but in my opinion not enough, unless it's for a short period of time.

And there's also the matter of his partner's personality. Jim is a natural leader; that's why he's so good at his job. I don't think he needs a similar kind of leader as romantic partner. This is just my personal opinion, but I believe they would just fight about everything they disagree about. I think he needs someone calmer in his life, not someone who'd encourage emotional outbursts.

More importantly, he absolutely needs someone he can communicate with. If he can't talk to his partner about everything important, they're not the right person for him. That doesn't mean they can't have disagreements or miscommunication issues, of course, but they shouldn't happen all the time, and Jim and his partner should be able to talk about them and make up.

In conclusion: someone at his side on his ship, smart, calm, trustworthy :)

Now, I know what some of you are thinking about: what about the "no relationships with subordinates" personal rule Jim has? How can Jim be in a relationship with Spock (or anyone else on the Enterprise) if he's everyone's superior officer? Well, first of all, I already said that after The Voyage Home, Jim and Spock are both captains. And before that… I think that Spock in the comic phrased it the right way. Jim can find his happiness with someone of "equal status". I think it's pretty clear, in my opinion, that Janice Rand and Spock aren't the same kind of subordinates to Jim. Just think about it: which members of the Enterprise call their captain "Jim"? Bones, Spock and (occasionally) Scotty. These are the three people I believe are "equals" in private to Jim, no matter their ranks when they're on duty. Because of that, a relationship between Jim and Spock could work pretty well.

By the way, another thing the Valentine's Day comic made me think about is that in TOS movies, Jim sort of does with Spock pretty much everything he does with Laura in this story. Not the same way, of course, but does it matter? Spock is his own person, he's not Jim's copy. That doesn't mean he can't indulge Jim, have fun himself… and try to stop Jim from doing dangerous things "for fun", as an old spouse would :)

Okay, perhaps throwing each other into the water doesn't count as dancing, but it's so much better :D

In conclusion, this is the way I can read the Valentine's Day comic as a Kirk/Spock shipper:

Jim mentions Spock on his first date with a woman.

Jim questions his life choices as he thinks about Spock and IDIC philosophy.

Jim does with Laura everything we see him doing in TOS show, except for playing chess (just the thing he does with Spock).

Jim says Laura and him are a good team in Starfleet because they had a lot of sex (is that true about other people he works well with??)

There haven't been many ladies or gentlemen in Jim's life because he's busy (not because he's not into men, apparently).

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together." Good for your future with Spock, Jim!

If Jim and Laura got married, they could both teach at Starfleet Academy, something Jim is totally going to do with Spock someday.

Mister "I am something of an expert on the subject of James T. Kirk" Spock.

Also, Mister "I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness" Spock, which is actual foreshadowing of his own future status with Jim.

Hey, look at Jim reading a book that reminds him of his lost love! I wonder where I've seen LITERALLY THE SAME PICTURE???

"Don't 'Admiral' me". This is totally not similar to what Jim tells Spock in The Voyage Home, of course.

Hey, we're both captains now! Just for a few days, but isn't that great? I wonder if anyone else is a captain now, and forever? :D

"I have been and always shall be your Valentine". Totally not a Kirk/Spock line, I don't know what you're talking about! :)

Okay, okay, that's all.

As a Kirk/Spock shipper, I won't deny that I'm a little jealous of this Valentine's Day special comic, because I wish we could get something with amazing art like this where Jim is in love with Spock. On the other hand, Star Trek: Year Five comic series has a few scenes about Jim & Spock's friendship that I really liked. Platonic, sure, but good enough for my K/S goggles!

Thank you so much for reading this post until the end! I hope you enjoyed my analysis! Live long and prosper!

[blnova180]

The Bad Sandwiches

This story contains: multiple sick characters, with descriptive belly rumbles, scat and diarrhea!!!

Sci-fi setting: In a world where humans and robots are at war with each other, during a rare moment of armistice, two unfortunate guys end up with a bout of food poisoning. Fortunately, their commander is there to take care of them.

(FYI I'm terrible at names so...)

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

On a normal, sunny afternoon, lieutenants Fleck and Hade were having lunch at the canteen, partaking in their favorite activity: talking crap about their unit's new commander, Spree.

It was ridiculous that the higher ups thought she'd make a better commander than either one of them. Spree was more book smart than street smart, and she was always coming up with new strategies and training regiments.

"She's not right in the head," Hade said, getting up from the table. "There's an efficient way to hold your blaster, and there's a hundred ways to do so inefficiently," he mimicked her in a high pitched voice.

"The old commander never cared how we shot, as long as we hit out targets," complained Fleck. "Whatever, let's got train on our own for a while, yeah?"

"Sure, man."

Throwing out their trash and leaving thier trays behind, the two made their way to holo-room 4 to start on some light training.

They'd been fighting holo-bots for about an hour, sweating and already growing a bit tired, when Fleck started noticing an uncomfortable pressure building in his stomach. Glancing at Hade, who was still going, he shrugged it off and decided to push through it. Unbeknownst to Fleck, Hade was beginning to feel something too; his insides were rather tender and were twinging in pain with the slightest movements.

They finished the round and Hade paused the session.

"I need some water," he said.

Fleck nodded, needing the break just as much. He wiped his sweaty hair out of his face, and winced as a cramp raced down his abdomen. Hade was getting a drink at the water fountain, so Fleck allowed a soft pfff to escape him, trying to ease the pressure.

Hade bent over the water fountain, really hoping the cool water would sooth his stomach. Unfortunately, bending put more pressure on his gut than he intended.

Phwaaarghhhhh. It moaned like a whale and Hade flinched. He wiped his mouth and straightened back up.

Just then, the door to holo-room 4 opened.

Fleck and Hade looked up, and Commander Spree stared back at them.

"There you are," Spree said coolly, crossing her arms. "Have you been down to the canteen yet?"

"What's it to you?" Fleck snapped. "Gonna regulate what we eat now too?"

Spree raised an eyebrow. "Control's reported a situation. Did you stop at the canteen or not?"

Fleck glared at her, his aching stomach emboldening him. "What's it matter if we did or didn't? What's the situation? Is there an attack, was there a breach?"

"More of a human error," Spree said. "Answer the question, lieutenant."

"What? So it's a matter of rank?" Fleck sneered. "We're not high enough to know what's-" he took a breath, a cramp rolling through him "-what's going on?"

Spree narrowed her eyes. She crossed the room towards him, opening her mouth to no doubt berate him, when all of a sudden, she was interrupted by a noisy fart.

As it turned out, while Fleck had been arguing with Spree, Hade was having a bit of a predicament. He'd placed his hands on his stomach, surprised to find it protruding in a tight bloat. He could feel his belly bubbling against his hands.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Hade's stomach quaked warningly. He gasped and clenched his butt. But it was so no avail, his cheeks were split open with a booming, dry fart.

BRRRRRRRAAPPPPPP~

Spree and Fleck looked at him. Hade's ears turned pink from embarrassment, but he didn't have time to dwell, because he wasn't done. His next string of farts spluttered out painful and wet.

Phllllbrrrrrrrtttttttttt. Krpppppppluttttttttt. Phbraaaap-braapppp. Grrrrll. Poooot.

Hade held his stomach, his legs weak and shaky. His breath came quick and hard, his stomach aching and burning.

Spree sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "As I was saying, Control reported a situation. The tuna sandwiches served at the canteen today were expired. A few people have turned up sick at the med-bay. Did both of you eat the sandwich, or just Hade?"

Gwwwwlp. The wet, upset gurgle from Fleck's own stomach answered her question for him.

"Do you need to use the bathroom before I escort you to the med-bay?" Spree asked them.

"Yes," Hade whimpered, clutching onto the side of the water fountain for support.

"I'm fine," Fleck snarled, crossing his arms.

"Suit yourself, then."

Spree walked over to Hade, supporting him the few steps to the bathroom behind him. Hade stumbled into the first stall, desperately pulling his belt loose and dropping his pants.

The moment his butt touched the porcelain bowl, a wet fart exploded from him, carrying a stream of liquid diarrhea out with it. Hade whimpered, tears pricking in his eyes. His gut was so tight and tender he couldn't do more than let spurts of mushy poo shot out from his sore butthole. Except something was getting stuck, and he needed to push, but he was in too much pain.

Gasping, and choking on a sob, he tried rubbing his belly to move things along; but he couldn't even fart anymore.

He heard a sigh, and Spree was in front of him, roughly feeling his forehead. Hade gasped for air. His breathing suddenly eased out when a new hand gently ran up and down his stomach.

Grrwwwwullllll. His tummy yawned thankfully, and his lower belly unclenched what it'd been holding back. A log pocked out of his hole, slowly working its way out with a mix of dry and wet prrts.

Outside the bathroom, Fleck stood massaging his abdomen. Alone, he let his face turn red, twisting in discomfort as he forced out little chirping farts. His churning stomach wasn't feeling any better. He thought releasing some gas would make the building pressure ease up some, though so far, it did not good.

Fleck felt bad for Hade, who'd thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of their straight-laced commander, and was sorry he was so sick. Fleck didn't think he needed to take a dump that desperately, yet, but the noises from the bathroom were starting to make his own stomach burble sympathetically.

A cramp stabbed his bellybutton, and he opened his cheeks to let out another fart.

KSHHHprrrrrrrrrtt-toot~

Only, what he'd expected to be another dry peep, came out instead as a sickly shart.

Fleck broke into a cold sweat. He made a b-line for the bathroom, holding onto his bottom like his life depended on it.

Inside, Hade, who's own pain was easing up as his log inched it's way out, saw a flash of Fleck as he raced to the next stall. Bubbly farts followed him, along with a string of breathless curses.

Fart after fart rocketed out of him, his belly crying for sweet relief. Making it into the stall, his fingers trembled on his belt buckled as he fumbled to unclasp it.

Braap. Braap. BRRRAAAP.

He kept farting consecutively until finally, finally Fleck managed to drop his pants and collapse onto the waiting toilet. He farted. And farted. But nothing but a few little mushy sharts came out.

Fleck tried pushing on his taught, bloated stomach. His guts boiled with fury at his harsh treatment.

PSHHHHHHPRRTTTTBRRRRRRR.

His booming fart echoed in the toilet bowl.

In the next stall, Hade winced sympathetically, listening to his friend's persistent farting. His log tapered off and he let out a sigh of relief. His poor gut was still hurting, but he was done pooping for the moment.

Spree handed him a wad of toilet paper.

"Thanks," Hade mumbled weakly. "I think I'll be all right to go to the med-bay after, y'know..."

He nodded towards Fleck's stall, where he'd started panting and grunting in an attempt to move things along.

"He's gonna be here all day at this rate," Spree said, shaking her head before walking out of Hade's stall and into the next.

Fleck glared at her when she took a step towards him, and she raised her hands in surrender, leaning against the stall's frame. Fleck's pants pooled around his ankles, the skid mark on the inside of his underwear visible.

A cramp rolled like thunder through him, and he bent over to fart again.

PshhhBRRRRRRTTTTT~

It started as a hiss, quickly becoming another boom. Fleck's face turned red as he strained, bending forwards, hugging his knees. His belly couldn't take being squished so hard.

The head of log snaked out of him. Fleck pushed. And a short log slid out into the bowl. He panted with relief, leaning back. He almost wanted to laugh at how over dramatic his body had been acting. After all that effort, the only thing he'd expelled was-

Another sharp cramp pierced his bellybutton; like an extra long, hot needle.

And in an instant, his cheeks were parting. Fleck held his breath. It felt like lava running out of his bottom. Clumpy and slushy, burning his butthole on the way out.

Over the sound of his diarrhea, he could hear Spree saying something to Hade. He heard her leave, foot steps fading. For a few minutes, Fleck held back tears, resigning himself to his twisting guts.

Kshhhrrrt~ Bllllrrrrrp ~ Phhhwwwwggggg. The chunky streams continued.

Then, all of a sudden, Fleck registered a hand combing through his hair. Exhausted, he fell forward, and an arm was holding him, the hand moving down to rub circles along his back. His stomach burbled and he whimpered.

Spree readjusted him and knelt down. Softly, she rubbed his sore, fussy tummy, until the last of his bout trickled to a stop.

She stood back up, offering him something. Fleck looked up to find Spree was handing him a pack of wet wipes. Embarrassed, he took them from her, thankful she left the stall while he cleaned himself.

A bit gingerly, Fleck put his pants back on. He joined the others in front of the sink and washed his hands.

Spree walked them down to the med-bay, keeping watch while the nurse asked about their symptoms and pain. Hade's stomach was achy and Fleck's still a bit bubbly, but it seemed the worst of it was over.

Their unit commander rejoined them when the nurse let them lay down. Spree cleared her throat.

"You've got the next two days off, but I expect to see you both bright and early Friday morning. Is that clear?"

"Aye..." Fleck and Hade saluted her weakly.

"Good. As you were, lieutenants."

Spree left the med-bay and Hade turned to Fleck.

"Never met such hard-ass Commander in my life."

"Don't think you will again, in this life or the next."

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

Yeah, okay, so I got supper excited to write my first post and might've put all my favorite tropes together. Anyway, my first post!

[thedroneranger]

Mustache Masquerade

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Jake makes an out-of-character facial hair decision during his deployment—his wife has some thoughts about it.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.4k

Whenever Jake returned from a deployment or mission, it was always cause to celebrate. By the time you physically reunited, the hardest part was over. You already knew he was coming home, so that weight was off your chest.

Fortunately, you got deployments under your belt early in your relationship. You and Jake had been seeing each other long enough that you decided to move in together, and the very next month he was summoned to sea. 

Naturally, the reunion after that first deployment was exhilarating. Thank the gods it was on a Friday, because you spent the entire weekend tangled in your bedsheets with at least one of Jake’s heads between your thighs. 

That memory made you smile as you cruised toward the base, music playing at a reasonable decibel for once and turning heads as your arm rested out the window of your lifted, blacked-out Ford F-150 Raptor.

You slowed and flashed your credentials at the security kiosk as the gates wobbled open. The guard greeted you by name, complimented your ride and waved you through. You rolled into a parking spot and looked at the dashboard clock. Killing the engine, you then sat in the truck and scrolled through your social media. By this point, you had enough experience to time your arrival so you didn’t wait too long. When the vehicle electronics shut off, you knew that 15 minutes passed and it was appropriate to text Jake for an update. 

Nowadays, the excitement of Jake coming home was different. Yes, you still—always within the first 12 hours—broke your celibacy. However, the foreplay was sometimes a little less heavy petting and a little more verbal sparring. 

Today was one of those days.

Once you began to notice people filtering into the parking lot, you looked out the windshield and saw Jake making his way toward the truck. What really caught your attention was the lush strip of hair above his lip. Your mouth fell open as you stared at him through the windshield. You even slid your sunglasses atop your head to make sure you were seeing him clearly.

The laugh stirring in your throat finally bubbled over as you threw your phone in the cupholder and slipped out the driver’s door. You leaned against the grill of the truck with your arms folded over your chest. Jake’s pace quickened as he saw you. The two of you kept eye contact as he closed the distance. 

When he was within earshot, you finally spoke. “Hey, Bradley. Have you seen Jake? I’m supposed to pick him up.” 

Jake came to a halt and feigned pain with a palm against his stomach. “Whoa, that hit me deep.” He chuckled. 

You grinned in disbelief. “A mustache? Really?” You leaned off the truck and walked toward Jake so you could better inspect his lip sweater. One of your eyebrows crept up your forehead. “They gave you clearance to grow facial hair, and you chose a regulation mustache?”

You were truly surprised. While on active duty, Jake was always clean shaven. However, whenever he had extended leave, he would grow the fullest beard time would allow and only commit to trimming and conditioning. And you didn’t mind one bit—Jake with a beard was your kryptonite, and he knew it.

His assignment during this deployment had been to fly patrol and reconnaissance for Navy and Marine Special Forces units throughout the Middle East. To blend in with the units and the general population, he had special clearance to grow full facial hair.

While you were busy making eye contact with Jake’s mustache, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you toward him. His touch drew your gaze to his eyes. You tucked yourself into his side, placing a hand on his chest, still looking up at him. 

“It comes with free rides,” he explained, keeping his eyes locked on yours. His hand slipped down to your backside and squeezed. You hummed in response.

“I guess there’s no need to invite Bradley over to fulfill my mustache fantasies.” You kept a straight face, and your eyes never left his. 

Jake couldn’t help but full-belly laugh and lose the staring contest. You loved the deep dimples and eye creases that came with his laugh. You watched and waited as he composed himself. 

“Damn, if I knew a mustache would get you this riled up, I’d have grown it sooner.” Jake’s hand moved back to your shoulders and curled you closer so his lips could meet your forehead. Your nose crinkled as his lip hair tickled your skin. “I’ll drive.” He placed one more kiss on your forehead before heading for the vehicle. 

As Jake pulled out of the base, with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, you realized he was headed in the direction of your favorite hole-in-the-wall bar rather than your suburban home. “Jake.” Your tone dripped with warning. 

“Just trust me, sweetheart.” He patted your thigh. You huffed and sat back in your seat. Sure enough, you were not surprised when the truck rolled to a stop in the parking lot. Per usual, Jake came to help you climb out of the track—always a gentleman.

Once inside, you split up. Jake snagged a pool table while you ordered a couple Lone Stars. One of the reasons Jake loved this place so much is it served “some of Texas’ finest exports” he liked to say.

He was already racking for a round of eight-ball when you arrived. You handed him a beer and went to pick your cue.“Let’s make a bet,” he said as you got back, piquing your interest. You kept your gaze on him, slightly leaning against your stick. “Best of three wins,” he stated. “If I win, you get a mustache ride.” You chuckled. He was so proud of himself with his choice of prize. “And if you win…” he trailed off, waiting for you to finish.

“And if I win, I get to shave your mustache as soon as we get home.” 

Jake smirked. “Deal,” he agreed, closing the space between you. You scrunched your nose again in preparation for the hair about to tickle your face as you sealed your bet with a kiss. Jake could not help himself, snaking his arm around your waist to hold you close as he brushed his mustache all over your face. You playfully poked his sides until he let you go. 

You glared over your shoulder as you went to the far end of the table. “Ladies first.” He gestured. Staring at him, you leaned over the bumper and broke. A solid rolled into a corner pocket. You winked at Jake and lined up your next shot. 

Pool was one of the many things you and Jake tried to leisurely play but ended up fiercely competing. It was impressive you two were still together—two of the most competitive people on the planet. To keep your competitive nature satiated, you liked to bet. You wagered when your favorite NFL teams or alma maters played each other, how long it’d take relatives to perform their trademark behavior at family gatherings, and now you could add facial hair to the ever-growing list.

Right now, you were three balls away from shaving Jake’s mustache, and Jake was three balls away from you straddling his face. You didn’t have any good shots left, so you took your best one. Worst case, it would make at least one of Jake’s shots harder. Well, it ended worse than the worse case scenario. You hit the ball a smidge too hard and cleared his path instead of cluttering it. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He leaned over the table and knocked in the first of his last two balls. He stared at you while he sank the second shot, and then called the eight ball before sinking it into his selected pocket. He stood up and wiggled his mustache at you. You rolled your eyes and gulped the last of your beer. 

Jake cleared the table and racked his cue. “Should we head home so you can make good on your debt?” He stood in front of you with his chest puffed. 

“Fine,” you drew out the word as you went to rack your cue. Jake waited for you with his hand out. You tucked your hand in his, and he kissed the back of it before leading you to the truck. 

One of the benefits of Jake winning was he was, surprisingly, a good sport. You had a hunch it was because your wagers were usually sexual favors, and no way he wanted to find out how you paid up if you were pissed off.

You couldn’t get home fast enough. Jake rolled through several stop signs and punched the gas at multiple yellow lights to get back to the house. “You have a hot date or something?” you asked as he put the truck in park. 

“Kinda.” He opened the door and hopped out. “My hot wife has a debt to pay.” You chuckled as you unbuckled yourself. The seat belt wasn’t even fully retracted when Jake flung your door open and flipped you over his shoulder. 

“Oh my God!” you yelped. 

“Jake is fine,” he teased, and then patted the back of your thigh. You kneed him in the pec and he let out an ‘oof’ but kept on his way to the house. Once inside, he marched directly to your bedroom and threw you on the bed.

You barely stopped bouncing when Jake snagged your ankle to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. In one fluid motion, he ditched his shirt and kicked off his shoes. Then, he pulled off your sandals and unbuttoned your cutoff denim shorts. He smirked when he realized you weren’t wearing panties.

While Jake was stepping out of his pants, you flipped to your belly and attempted to crawl further up the bed. “No so fast.” His hand caught your knee and pulled you back. 

You whined as Jake’s teeth sank into your ass cheek. He followed the bite with tender kisses up to the small of your back. Goosebumps bloomed as his mustache tickled your skin. “I missed you,” he cooed while spreading your legs and pulling your hips up so you stayed on your knees. You arched your back and let your cheek and chest sink into the fluffy duvet. 

A soft sigh left you as Jake peppered kisses along the curve of your ass. You moaned as one of Jake’s fingers sank into your core. “So silky.”  He curled it a few times before pulling out and trailing your arousal along your entire slit. He came back with two fingers and used the pad of his thumb to massage your engorged clit. 

You bounced your hips to match his rhythm. Suddenly, his hand disappeared and you felt a sharp sting on your ass as his palm connected with it. You whined and wiggled your hips. Jake chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re the one with a debt to pay.” He softly swatted your exposed core. 

Rolling over, you pushed yourself up on your elbows and squeezed your thighs together while giving Jake a pout. “The least you could do is get me primed.” You dragged one leg up the other, keeping eye contact with him. 

“Sweetheart.” Jake leaned onto the bed and hovered over you. “You hardly need to be primed.” He swiped the tip of his nose against yours, and then skimmed his cheek along yours. You felt the slightest sign of stubble, which made you smile. The infamous mustache was grazing the shell of your ear. “I think the mustache riled you up plenty.” He kissed the top of your jaw.

You nudged him to roll over so you could straddle his waist. A hand resting on his sternum, you slid yourself along his happy trail, your arousal dampening the dark blond hairs. You loved the sensation. “Glad to see you didn’t shave everything,” you commented. 

Jake’s light sheath of body hair was something you enjoyed. Once in a while he shaved it, which you also didn’t mind (boy did he mind while it was growing back), but you also appreciated that he wasn’t adverse to having body hair. 

His hands rose to sit on your waist. “You’re seated near the wrong head, sweetheart.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved further up. As you settled over his face, Jake bit his bottom lip and let his hands sprawl up your sides until they came to rest just under the curve of your ribcage. 

You gasped as Jake’s tongue met your core, and then his lips sealed around your clit. Leaning forward, you rested your hands on the headboard and watched as he sucked and licked your heat. 

His mustache bristling against you was a welcome sensation—you hated to admit that you were enjoying it. Swirling your hips, you fell into a rhythm that both you and Jake enjoyed. 

Jake’s hands alternated between squeezing your ass and palming your breasts. Your hands were clamped to the headboard, arms splayed wide, bending you forward. This gave Jake a wonderful view of your chest. 

The heat low in your stomach was building. Jake’s pace quickened—his jaw would definitely be sore later. But it was worth it, you sitting on his face, about to come with the help of his basic regulation mustache. You would never live it down. 

Finally, your orgasm erupted. Jake gripped your hips as you pushed yourself up, sitting straight over him, hips still swirling. A strangled moan left your lips as your eyebrows knitted together. Always acutely aware of how vocal you could be, you bit your lip to stifle some of the sounds.

However, Jake loved when you vocalized. If it weren’t for his mouth wantedly trapped between your thighs, he’d be coaxing you to be louder. He watched from beneath as you tangled your hands in your own hair and palmed your breasts, feeling every spasm. 

Jake equally enjoyed every twitch and contraction. When your thighs squeezed his head, he definitely felt more blood rush to his cock. 

As your high ended, Jake helped you dismount his face. You slumped onto the bed and melted into his side. His arm engulfed you. All you could smell was yourself as he placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile graced your lips as you rested your head on his chest.

The only sound in the room was your breathing. Wrapped in a haze of post-orgasm oxytocin, you were close to nodding off when Jake kissed the top of your head, and then slid off the bed. You groaned as he disappeared, taking his body heat with him. 

You watched as he found sweatpants and put them on. Sitting up, you slipped the t-shirt over your head he had tossed at you. “C‘mon,” he said with an outstretched hand. Taking it, you climbed off the bed and allowed him to lead you into your ensuite bathroom. 

Before Jake could get to his sink, you stepped in front of it. Pushing yourself on your toes, you pressed your lips to his, wanting to taste yourself on him before he washed his face. The kiss was soft with gentle nibbles. Your arms rested on his shoulders, wrists lazily crossed behind his neck. His hands found purchase on your hips under his shirt. Wanting the moment to remain sweet, you broke the kiss. 

With a final kiss on his jaw, you hopped on the counter beside the sink and watched as he washed his face. You gave him a towel and gazed at him as he dried his hands. 

Towel in one hand, he leaned onto the counter, resting his palms on either side of your legs. You leaned toward him for a kiss, which you allowed him to deepen with his tongue.

His hand came to your knees and parted them. Anticipating what came next, you were severely disappointed when his hand dropped to the knob of the drawer you were sitting atop. You pouted as he opened it and pulled out his dopp kit. He sat it next to you, unzipping the bag and placing the contents on the counter: a soap tin, then a lather brush and cup. Your eyes met his as he handed you the straight razor. You opened it and watched the light dance along the blade. 

“So soon?” you asked.

A sheepish grin graced his face. “I got what I wanted.” He hesitated. “Plus, I don’t need a reminder of a lost bet.”

Your eyes grew. “I knew it!” You pointed the blade at him. He feigned fear. 

“You know I would never willing choose a mustache.” The razor lowered, he came in for another kiss. “But I am a man of my word, so I followed through on my debt.”

“Was part of the debt giving your wife a mustache ride?” you inquired.

Pursing his lips, he glanced off to the side before looking back at you. “Nah, that was just a really hot bonus.” He gave you another lingering kiss. 

“You’re a dog,” you giggled as he pulled away.

“But I’m your dog.” He licked your cheek. Scoffing, you pretended to be offended.

“Plus,” he ran his hands along the outside of your thighs, pulling you closer to the counter edge, “you give a really nice shave.” Jake kissed your cheek, then your neck and finally your shoulder.

An exaggerated sigh sank your shoulders as you answered. “Ok.” You acted pseudo-annoyed. Never had you been able to say no to Jake, especially when he gave you puppy dog eyes. 

Giddy, Jake hooked the strop to the sink faucet, and then took the blade from you. You slid off the counter and snagged fresh towels to begin preparation. 

You were shocked the first time Jake asked you to shave him and horrified to learn he used a straight razor after you had agreed. It was then you knew just how much Jake loved you. His patience was immaculate, and he never once complained when you inevitably nicked him. And over the years, you perfected your technique and this became one of your favorite post-deployment rituals.

Once everything was ready, you hopped back on the counter and Jake stood between your legs—he was a good height in this position. You wrapped a warm towel over his face and placed his hands to hold it while you prepared the lather. 

You removed the towel, pressing it to his skin so he got the last bit of warmth before setting it aside. He settled his hands on the sides of your thighs while you massaged shave oil along his jaw, neck and cheeks with special attention to the strip between his nose and lip. He pressed a kiss to your fingers as you pulled away, which caused you to smile. 

Only Jake’s eyes followed you as painted him with lather. It never ceased to amaze you how still he could be or how calculated his movements were. Of course, it was these times you remembered he was in the top one percent of pilots in the world, and then it all made sense.

Jake’s head did move to watch you as you swapped the lather cup for a towel to wipe your hands. Then you picked up the blade he had honed to inspect it. You looked at him and he gave the smallest nod. He returned to his stoic position, allowing you to mauvering him as needed. 

You relaxed as you made the first couple strokes along his cheek, holding the blade at the angle he’d taught you. Since he had just a light stubble over most of his face, you made quick work of it. 

Then, came the mustache. Carefully, you smoothed off half, inspecting your work before eviscerating the other half. You already had a second towel ready that you ran under warm water, wrung and then soothed his face with. He leaned into your touch as you cleaned him and finished with aftershave. “Hi,” you said cheekily, sitting back on the counter and looking at him. 

He smirked. “Thank you.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You nipped his bottom lip as he pulled away. “Test out how smooth your work is later?” He planted a kiss on your jaw before sinking to your neck. 

The moan that escaped your lips was enough of an answer for him. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but smile, thinking of his cheeks against your inner thigh later as you watched him disappear into the bedroom.