#i love them so much and I think the green is iconic

[ministarfruit]

yuri month day 12: I want you to find me ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[ahqkas]

hi!! I saw your post of the bat boys s/o wearing their merch and I loved it!!! How do you think they’d react seeing their s/o wearing another persons merch?? (Ex: Jason’s s/o wearing nightwing merch, and so on)

♯ THE COLOR GREEN

— gn!reader, angst for bruce, cursing + lmk if more

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT WAS AN ORDINARY EVENING IN WAYNE MANOR, FULL OF THE USUAL SILENCE that only the sprawling estate could provide. bruce had just finished a late-night meeting with gotham’s most influential philanthropists. it had been a long, tiring day, but the sense of duty still lingered within him. he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest properly until he checked in on gotham’s nighttime operations, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of peace.

as he made his way into the living room, he was expecting to find you curled up on the couch with a book or perhaps watching your latest show. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was the sight that greeted him when he walked in: you were standing by the window, looking out at the snowy white picture, dressed casually in a loose-fitting black shirt with a bright blue nightwing logo sprawled across it.

the symbol—the iconic bird, a badge that he associated so deeply with dick grayson, his former partner—was unmistakable. his heart skipped a beat, the rush of emotions coming so quickly that he barely had a chance to process it. he froze, just standing there in the doorway, his mind suddenly racing.

nightwing.

bruce had never expected this. sure, dick was well-known in gotham, a hero in his own right, with the same sense of justice that ran through batman’s veins. but to see his former robin’s symbol—nightwing’s symbol—worn so casually by someone he cared about? it struck a chord in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

dick grayson had been more than just a sidekick, more than a name in a costume. he had been bruce’s right hand for years, a trusted confidant, and at one point, like a son to him.

now, here bruce stood, watching the emblem of that very relationship—a reminder of the past he still struggled to come to terms with—on your chest.

his heart clenched as he realized that you, someone he had opened up to in ways he never had with others, didn’t know the full weight of that symbol. you didn’t know the stories tied to it, the sacrifices made, or the heartache that had followed dick’s departure from Gotham. bruce felt an uncomfortable mix of protectiveness, jealousy, and vulnerability that he wasn’t used to confronting. how could he explain this to you? how could he put into words what seeing that logo meant to him without revealing too much, too soon? the thought of you innocently wearing it as a mere fan seemed almost like an intrusion into something he had kept buried for so long.

his first instinct was to say something, but he didn’t know exactly how.

you looked over at him, a warm smile spreading across your face as you noticed him standing there. “hey, love! look at this cool shirt i got today. i couldn’t resist. nightwing’s awesome, right?”

bruce’s jaw clenched. his chest felt tight, and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. there was no malice in your voice, no hint of anything other than innocent admiration for a hero you respected.

you didn’t know the intricacies of the bond between them, how deeply it ran, or the strain it had caused over the years. you didn’t know that dick grayson wasn’t just nightwing, he was bruce’s family.

you saw the look on his face, the way his gaze had darkened. the smile faltered from your lips, and you hesitated, clearly sensing the change in his mood. “bruce?”

he took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. stepping further into the room, his eyes never left the logo that felt so out of place on you. he needed to keep his voice steady. this wasn’t your fault. you didn’t know.

“i—” he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “you like nightwing?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yeah, i’ve seen him patrol the city a few times, and i’ve read some cool stories about him. he’s really impressive.”

he tried to hold onto his composure, but his mind was running on autopilot, flicking through memories of dick’s training, their time together as batman and robin, the way things had fractured between them. but it was hard to keep all that inside when it was standing right in front of him, so public, so casual.

bruce couldn’t explain himself to you, not at this moment, but you somehow understood. his life wasn’t, wasn’t bright.

( note! as much as i’d like to write & see jealous bruce , this is smth more of what i think he’d react as )

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS A QUIET AFTERNOON IN DICK’S APARTMENT, the kind of lazy day you two rarely got to share. the winter sun streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a pale glow. he sat cross-legged on the couch, aimlessly flipping through a book, while you wandered around the kitchen. you’d been busy unpacking a bag from your recent shopping trip, chatting casually about the little finds you’d picked up.

his attention drifted back to you when he heard the sound of your laughter, a bright, melodic note that never failed to pull him in. it was the kind of laugh that made the world feel a little lighter, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it yet. he glanced over the back of the couch, his book forgotten, as you stood near the kitchen counter, hands rummaging through one of the shopping bags you’d brought home. the mischievous glint in your eyes was impossible to miss, and your lips curved into a playful smile that immediately piqued his curiosity. “i found something you’re going to love—or maybe hate,” you teased, the of your voice dancing somewhere between innocent and deliberately provocative, the kind of tone you used when you knew you were about to get a reaction out of him.

dick grinned and closed his book, leaning over the back of the couch to catch sight of you. “oh? what’d you find?”

you turned around, your eyes alight with a mischievous glint that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. in your hands, you held up a black hoodie, the fabric loose and casual, but what caught his attention—what stopped him mid-breath—was the bold crimson logo splashed across the front. the angular design, sharp and unmissable, was instantly recognizable: the unmistakable insignia of the red hood. you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction like a cat that had just dropped a mouse at its owner’s feet, the corners of your mouth tugging into an impish smile as if daring him to say something.

your boyfriend froze for half a second, his brain catching up with what he was seeing. the sight of you holding that hoodie—with jason’s symbol—sent a whirl of conflicting emotions through him. amusement bubbled up first, chased quickly by a flicker of irritation, and finally, something quieter but no less present: a faint pang of jealousy.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his tone light but with a slight edge of disbelief.

you shrugged innocently, clearly enjoying his reaction. “what? it’s cool. don’t you think it’s cool?” you held it up to yourself and struck a mock pose, the red logo standing out starkly against your figure.

dick let out a laugh, though it carried more incredulity than humor, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “oh, it’s something, all right,” he said, the words laced with mock offense as he stood up and made his way toward you. his movements were casual, but there was a certain energy behind them—curiosity tinged with disbelief. once he reached you, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as if sizing up the offending hoodie. his blue eyes flicked between your amused expression and the bold red symbol stretched across the fabric. “but red hood? really?” asking, his voice tinged with exaggerated disbelief, the way someone might react to finding out their favorite band had been passed over for a one-hit wonder.

you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by his tone. “what’s wrong with red hood? i mean, sure, he’s a bit . . . extreme. but you’ve got to admit, he’s kind of badass.”

he tilted his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. extreme was putting it mildly, he thought, but he kept that to himself. instead, he decided to lean into humor, a tried-and-true tactic. “oh, yeah. nothing says ‘badass’ like reckless decisions and questionable moral judgment,” he quipped, smirking.

you rolled her eyes, playfully tossing the hoodie at him. “oh, come on, dick. it’s just a hoodie. don’t be such a snob.”

he caught it effortlessly, the fabric flopping against his chest before he held it up at arm’s length like it might contain some hidden offense. his fingers brushed over the bold crimson logo, his expression a mix of mock scrutiny and genuine disbelief. he tilted his head slightly, inspecting the hoodie as if it might reveal some secret about why you had chosen this of all things. “a hoodie that glorifies a guy who spends half his time breaking the rules i try to uphold,” he muttered under his breath, the faintest edge of exasperation slipping into his tone. straightening, he lifted the hoodie higher, letting it unfurl completely before glancing at you with an exaggerated look of betrayal. “seriously? you could’ve picked nightwing merch,” he said, louder this time, his voice tinged with feigned indignation. “that guy’s way cooler.”

there was a pause, and then he added with a smirk, “better taste in colors, too.”

your laughter filled the room, light and carefree. “oh, please. nightwing? he’s fine, i guess, but red hood has this whole rogue antihero thing going on. it’s appealing!”

“appealing? over nightwing? i’m wounded.”

you shook your head, still grinning as you started putting away the rest of your shopping. “don’t take it personally, babe. it’s just merch. besides, i think the red looks good on me.”

he’d find a way to subtly convince you to pick up some nightwing merch next time.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD HAD SEEN A LOT OF STRANGE THINGS IN HIS LIFE. he’d fought crime bosses, faced off against costumed lunatics, and clawed his way back from the dead. but nothing—not even his years in gotham—had prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he walked into your apartment that afternoon.

he’d let himself in, as he often did when you two had made plans and you hadn’t responded to his text confirming he was on his way. you trusted him with the spare key, and honestly, the thought of you trusting him enough to hand it over always softened the rough edges of his otherwise sharp side. your apartment was your sanctuary, and letting him into it was no small thing.

just like you did with your heart.

the first thing he noticed when he stepped inside was the faint sound of music coming from your living room. it was something upbeat, probably one of those rock playlists you put on when you cleaning or decorating. the second thing he noticed was you—standing in front of the coffee table, carefully balancing a steaming mug in one hand while trying to place a stack of books on the shelf with the other.

it was the third thing that made him stop dead in his tracks.

the bright, unmistakable “RR” emblem of red robin blazoned across the front of your oversized hoodie.

jason blinked, his brain stumbling over itself as he processed the sight in front of him. no way. no. this can’t be happening. his jaw tightened, and for a split second, he wondered if he’d somehow walked into an alternate universe, one where betrayal came wrapped in cozy fleece and gotham’s greatest insult wasn’t the joker, but that emblem. the bright, unmistakable initials burned into his eyes like a neon sign mocking him, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of something in his chest—was it betrayal? jealousy? he wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: this moment would haunt him forever.

“hey, jay!” you called over your shoulder when you noticed him, your voice light and cheerful, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you’d just sent him on. you turned to face him fully, the emblem on the hoodie practically shining under the warm light of your apartment. “you’re early! i was just finishing tidying up.”

your boyfriend stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process the betrayal—no, the travesty—before him. the love of his life. the love of his life. wearing tim drake’s merch.

his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “what the hell are you wearing?”

your brows furrowed in confusion, and you glanced down at yourself as if to check for an obvious stain or tear. when your eyes landed on the red robin logo, you looked back up at him, completely unbothered. “what? you don’t like it?” you tugged on the hem of the hoodie. “i thought it was cute.”

jason let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that came out when you couldn’t quite believe the universe had conspired to humiliate you this thoroughly. “cute? you think that’s cute?”

your confusion deepened, and you tilted your head at him, the way you always did when you thought he was being dramatic. “yeah, it’s cute. i got it at that pop-up merch store downtown. they had this whole gotham vigilante theme—nightwing, red hood, batgirl, even batman. but i liked this one the most. the colors are nice.”

he stared at you, his mind a chaotic swirl of indignation and disbelief. you could’ve picked anyone else. anyone. you could’ve gone with nightwing—sure, it would’ve stung a little, but he could’ve handled it. even batman would’ve been tolerable, if only because of the begrudging respect he still held for the older man. but red robin? tim drake? of all people?

“you’re telling me that you went out, saw that, and thought, ‘yeah, this is the one’?”

“yeah,” you replied with your tone still casual, though you were starting to pick up on his agitation. “what’s the big deal? you’re acting like i came home with a joker hoodie or something.”

jason hesitated, torn between his frustration and the part of him that didn’t want to see that concerned look on your face. finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “it’s . . . complicated,” he said, his tone quieter now. “let’s just say i’ve got some history with red robin, and seeing you wearing that doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”

you frowned. “history? like, bad history?”

your boyfriend nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “you could say that.��

your expression softened, and you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “i didn’t know,” you said quietly. “if i’d known, i wouldn’t have bought it.”

jason glanced down at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “yeah, well,” he muttered, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t know. still,” he said, smirking now, “if you wanted vigilante merch, you could’ve at least gone with red hood. he’s got way more style.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face widened. “oh, sure, because nothing says ‘cute and comfy’ like a skull and crossbones.”

he chuckled, pulling you into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured. “otherwise, this might’ve been a dealbreaker.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM DRAKE IS USED TO BALANCING SECRETS. after all, it comes with the territory of being robin—or more recently, red robin. but there are moments when that balance falters, when the personal and the professional collide in ways he doesn’t expect. one of those moments? walking into your apartment and seeing you casually lounging on the couch in a batman sweatshirt.

the sight stopped him in his tracks.

at first, it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that catches him off guard. the bold black and yellow logo of the bat-symbol stretched across your chest, and you were completely oblivious to his reaction, scrolling through your phone with an easy, relaxed expression. for tim, it felt like a collision of worlds—a glaring reminder that you, someone he loves and trusts, exist just outside the shadowy world he calls home. a world where batman is more than a symbol, where the man behind the cowl is a mentor, a father figure, and someone tim can’t escape from even if he tried.

“nice shirt,” he said finally, keeping his tone neutral as he took a step into the room.

you looked up, startled at first, then smiled. “oh, this? thanks! i found it on sale last week. couldn’t resist—it’s a classic, you know? gotham pride and all that.”

“gotham pride,” he repeated, fighting the urge to smirk. “right. of course.”

tim walked further into the room, setting down his bag on the kitchen counter as he casually glanced back at you. he was trying to play it cool, but the sight of the bat-symbol on you felt like a cosmic joke he was not in on. it was not jealousy—exactly. it was more complicated than that. because batman isn’t just a symbol to him. it was bruce. it was his mission. it was his life.

“so, uh,” he began, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “what made you pick batman merch? why not, i don’t know, nightwing? or red hood?” he threw the names out casually, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in his voice. part of him wants to know if you had any opinions about the rest of the bat-family, even if you had idea you were dating a member of it.

you snorted, putting your phone down. “nightwing? please. he’s cool, sure, but batman’s the original. the icon. and red hood—that guy is terrifying. no offense to him, but i’d rather not wear merch of someone who’s rumored to leave actual body counts wherever he goes.”

he suppressed a laugh, his lips twitching. “fair.“

“i mean, think about it. batman’s like this larger-than-life figure, always watching over gotham. he’s mysterious, he’s powerful, and let’s be real—he’s probably way too intense to hang out with, but that’s part of the appeal. it’s like wearing a piece of gotham’s history, you know?”

tim nodded slowly, trying to process your words without revealing too much. it was fascinating to hear how people saw batman from the outside. the stories of the bat looming large over the city, and even though tim knew the truth—that batman was just a man under the cowl—it was interesting to see how the symbol resonated with others.

“you don’t think he’s a little . . . much?” he was testing the waters. “i mean, he’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

you shrugged. “sure, but that’s not his job. he’s supposed to be intimidating. he’s supposed to scare the bad guys. i think that’s kind of admirable, in a way. he’s sacrificed so much to protect this city. he’s not doing it for fame or recognition. he’s doing it because someone has to.”

you were not wrong. in fact, you probably summed up bruce’s mission better than most people ever could.

“you could’ve picked someone with, i don’t know, better people skills.”

“oh, like who?” you challenged him, arching a brow. “red robin? please. the guy barely even has merch. it’s like he doesn’t want people to know he exists.”

tim froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a laugh. “teah, weird how that works, huh?”

you didn’t notice the slight tension in his voice, too busy rolling your eyes. “anyway, i’m sticking with batman. he’s the OG. end of discussion.”

your boyfriend shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you settle back into the couch. you had no idea how close to the truth you were—how the man you admired from afar was someone tim knew intimately. because even without knowing the full story, you saw the good in what they did. and that, more than anything, made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to keep the gap so wide forever.

[ren-is-real]

Inanimate Insanity dash simulator (pre ep 16) (i will do more of this if this goes well probably)

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

does anyone ever get so tired they start seeing spiders lol

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

me when i lay down and hallucinate the horrors lmfao

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

what

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

Oh so this is not a safe place suddenly

2,369 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

as an unbiased outsider im cheering for them both ^^ im so excited for the finale!!!!!!!!!!!

#idk what i'll do when this ends tbh #like damn. #we'll cross that bridge when we get to it!!

19 notes

💡 brightestlight Follow

any couple can be gay if they are bisexual and their genders are weird enough

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

why did you post this directly after talking to me and test tube

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

lightbulb why did y

11 notes

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

when you want to ask someone about something but the trek is IMPOSSIBLE and you will DIE (hes downstairs setting up a party im just scared)

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

i am not giving you the aux to play green day at the party

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

:(

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

ok. two songs

19 notes

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

when a fake girl tryna act like me but im the only one there is

⚙️ rowbotted Follow

REAL!!!!!

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

who are you.

📄pageperrr Follow

hey didnt you die. or something

23 notes

🌮absolutleynot-taco Follow

hey anyone know where pickle is haha. anyone know his room number or amything lol like it would justs be fun to know,,, hagaha,,,, yeagh

0 notes

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

imagine using a run down website that hasnt been relevant in YEARS. you all need to get off and go touch some grass or something jfc

🔪sharpest-tool-inthe-shed Follow

you're literally using it?

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

kill yourself

#you used to be cool man

19 notes

🎈coldairballoon Follow

i drew some vent art about old stuff.. im better now!! im just letting off some steam haha

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

this is so cringe

🎈coldairballoon Follow

you're cringe.

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

trophy just ran to the bathroom sobbing

27 notes

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

greetings tumbler! i an steve cobs, C.E.O of the meeple company. i am looking to get in contact with a mephone! specifically mephone 4. (model 4s) any help is greatly appreciated!

🖌️ brushedpaint Follow

go back to twitter vro 💀

817 notes

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

trying a healthier outlook on life!! i'll tell yall how it goes!!

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

8,270 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

i miss egg :( i wonder where the other one the aliens mentioned went. i hope it found a parent that loves it as much as i loved egg. i mean i wasnt the best parent but uh you get what i mean

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

😜

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

???????

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

??????????what??????????

#why is steve cobs on tumblr get off

15 notes

🕯 innerflamed Follow

i need a boyfriend except he's not a boyfriend and is just some weird british guy i drag around with me everywhere

1,393 notes

🍀fourleafluck Follow

diversity win!! corrupt capitalist CEO of multimillion dollar company steve cobs is bisexual!

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

who informed you of this.

🍀fourleafluck Follow

I WAS??? JOKING??????

#GUYS??? #STEVE COBS GAY ICON??? #HOLY SHIT #IM SCREAMING ITS HIS OFFICIAL ACCOUNT ITS NOT A GIMMIC #meeple

23,105 notes

💡 brightestlight Follow

as a member of the lgbt we do not accept steve cobs

💡 brightestlight Follow

even when he changes the meeple logo to a rainbow during pride month we dont accept him

21 notes

☯ ringinginthenewyear Follow

☯ ringinginthenewyear Follow

just to clarify yang posted this not me -yin

57 notes

🥒 pickledposting Follow

steve cobs being bi and accidentally admitting to it on tumblr was not on my 2024 bingo card ???????

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

you'll be first.

🥒 pickledposting Follow

what

29 notes

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)

- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.

- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.

- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)

- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.

- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!), and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.

- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.

- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.

- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.

- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.

- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.

bonus facts!!!:

- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)

- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.

- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.

[internet-kid-kenna]

Here are some of my aftg 2006 fashion HCs

- Allison definitely has a hot pink Juicy Couture velour track suit. Like 1000% she does. I literally picture her dressing like Paris Hilton when she's not in exy gear

- Andrew definitely wears Doc Martens. He has the most worn in pair of docs though like they’re the only shoes he wears (other than when he's on the court or at the gym) and he takes good care of the leather tho. He might have multiple pairs but he for sure wears combat boots.

- Neil has the most beat up af pair of vans that like the soles are nearly coming off of. Andrew buys him new shoes but Neil would always pick his trash shoes until Andrew gets so fed up he throws them away.

- Kevin for sure wears like Hollister or Abercrombie & Fitch, tbh he was probably a Hollister model at some point

- Andrew definitely has a black leather jacket, Aaron has a brown one.

- Nicky wears vests over t-shirts, i basically picture him dressing like the Jonas brothers.

- i also think Matt wears vests over t-shirts, like specifically when they go out to a club

- Aaron wears converse. He has them in a couple of colors but i think he'd probably wear like red ones more often than black

- Allison owns a bump-it and she loves it, she teases the shit out of her hair to get it perfect (i think the actual bump it came out in 2008 but i still wanted to include it bc it makes so much sense to me)

- Renee has a pixie cut, like Alice from twilight style (also I know the movies came out after 2006 but just using that iconic style for reference)

- as much as i want to picture Andrew with a middle part and longer hair, I think he keeps it pretty short and gels it, however Aaron for sure has the like Bieber side swept bang look going on.

- Dan wears like jeans and a zip up hoodie usually, her jeans definitely have the like embellished designs on the back pockets though

- Dan also wears capris and V-necks with tank tops underneath

- Seth wears like Ed Hardy T-shirts, I think Andrew owns at least one in black, but Seth is like chains and baggy jeans and Ed hardy t-shirts for sure

- Renee wears jeans under dresses, but she looks cute in it

- Renee also wears those like knee length skirts and cropped cardigans with cap sleeves.

- Wymack wears Polos w/ cargo shorts and flip flops

- Abby definitely always has a contrasting color tank top under a long sleeve v-neck and boot cut jeans

- Allison owns several mini skirts that are about as wide as a belt and in fact owns belts that are wider than some of her skirts

- when Dan goes clubbing she also wears mini skirts though, but like Allison will wear one to class if she feels like it

- Dan owns several pairs of gold hoops and is usually wearing them even if she's dressed fairly casually

- Matt has worn a tie with a tshirt before, he also has one of those like army green shirts with the lapels and too many pockets.

- Matt wears a sweater vest when he has to dress nicely though

- Neil owns the baggiest Jeans on the planet and probably keeps them up with a shoe lace instead of a belt, the hems of them are shredded bc he's short but any rips are patched up

- Andrew definitely wears black ripped skinny jeans all the time, but specifically the ones that have the like ribbed black fabric underneath the rips, the rips are purely aesthetic.

- Andrew wears silver jewelry if he wears any, but Aaron wears gold if he wears any

- any formal wear by the guys includes a skinny tie

Like fashion in 2006 is such a fun backdrop for these characters. I can't stop thinking about it

[motherismotheringggg]

Hi, I really do love your stories and all that you give, I hope you have a fabulous day or evening. But I did have a request where you had Nicholas and maybe Cooper(or the readers' friend male or female) trying to fight for your love idk or something, and it turns into this mess where you all end having a three-way with each other and the reader can't up their mind and just wants both of them. Also, it would be cool if the setting was a 90s luxury vibe. But again, do have a good day, evening or night.✨️

crystal decadence 💎

summary: this lovely anon request; reader is the daughter of a wealthy family in beverly hills and her family is throwing a dinner party. when her mom invites the two guys she’s been seeing to the party, it open the reader’s mind to a world where she can have it all

type: post grad rich female reader x post grad rich nicholas x post grad rich cooper; set in the 90s in beverly hills

warnings/tags: masturbation (f!), face sitting (f! on m!), there’s more world building than anything

author’s note: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO DO THIS 😭 little fact about me, i love a period piece!! anything from the 60s - 90s i just ADORE so this was so much fun to write. admittedly there’s more world building than smut but I'll probably do a part 2 and 3 to have individual smuts with both of them - anywho, hope you enjoy!!

word count: ~9783

taglist: @blackynsupremacy ,@emluvsuxo , @hoffmansgirl , @godzillawillsaveus , @purple-1995 , @ilovecheetahchrome , @nicholaslut

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

The Beverly Hills sun poured in through the boutique’s tall windows, hitting the glossy tile floors with a golden glow that felt almost tangible. The air smelled of fresh leather, high-end perfume, and a faint hint of gardenia from the floral arrangements that flanked the entrance. Rows of designer dresses shimmered like liquid gems, the silk, satin, and sequins catching the light with every slight sway. Each display felt more like a gallery exhibit than a store, each piece deserving of admiration and awe.

You sat in the swivel barrel chair behind your best friend, Dionne, as she twirled in front of an oversized gilded mirror, her chocolate brown curls bouncing in sync with her movements. The mirror’s ornate frame, covered in gold leaf, practically glowed under the natural light. Dionne’s face was scrunched in disapproval as she examined herself from every angle.

“I like this one, but it does nothing for my figure,” she pouted, tilting her head. Her delicate fingers brushed over the fabric of a soft blush-colored wrap dress that, while gorgeous, wasn’t quite up to her standards.

She turned to you for commentary, something that either agreed with her sentiments or changed her mind, but her face was more pouty than hopeful, there was no changing her mind.

“I think you’ll look great no matter what but we can always go see what they have at Guess,” you suggested, giving her a hopeful look with a reassuring smile.

“They just got a new shipment, and you’d look good in literally everything they make.”

Minutes later, the two of you strolled down the sunlit promenade, every step a subtle strut. The sidewalk’s terrazzo design gleamed under your designer heels, and the rhythmic clack of Dionne’s shiny loafers echoed like a soundtrack to your own personal runway show. The air buzzed with the soft hum of luxury cars idling at the curb, their drivers patiently waiting for their impeccably dressed clients to emerge with shopping bags in hand.

The Guess storefront came into view, its iconic black-and-white logo framed by lush green hedges. The moment you stepped inside, the air conditioning hit you with a refreshing burst, carrying the scent of new denim and crisp linen. A sales associate—all sharp cheekbones and impeccable tailoring—approached with a silver tray of champagne flutes.

“Welcome in, ladies,” he said, his smile as polished as his cufflinks. “Champagne?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dionne grinned, plucking a glass from the tray with a practiced elegance that could’ve put an heiress to shame. You followed suit, taking a delicate sip. The bubbles fizzed on your tongue, cool and crisp, just indulgent enough to remind you that you were exactly where you belonged.

Dionne darted off toward the dresses, her eyes sharp and focused like a predator stalking prey. You’d seen her shop a million times before, but every outing was its own spectacle—the slow, intentional grazing of fingertips across fabrics, the sharp “no” she’d mutter to anything less than perfect. You were mid-sip when your phone buzzed in your Fendi baguette bag. With a sigh, you fished it out, glancing at the screen.

Mom flashed across the display.

“Hey, Mom,” you said, balancing the champagne flute in one hand while holding the phone to your ear.

“Hi, sweetheart,” her voice was honey-smooth but edged with the brisk efficiency of a woman accustomed to getting things done. “Are you still out shopping?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m at Guess with Dionne. What’s up?”

“Perfect,” she said, her tone lifting like she’d just solved a puzzle. “I need you to pick up a few things for the party tonight. Just some last-minute items. You know how your father gets about everything being 'just right.'”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Sure, I’ll grab them.”

“Also,” her voice grew lighter, playful even, “I know you always get bored at these dinner parties so I made sure to invite more people your age tonight. I thought you’d like that.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, eyes wandering to where Dionne was now holding up a silky champagne-colored slip dress. She held it against herself, giving you an expectant look.

“You know, Michelle’s son Ethan will be there. And Janine’s daughter, Ashley, you two did cotillian classes together in middle school. Oh! And two of those handsome boys you’ve been seeing lately…”

Your attention snapped back to the call. “Who?”

“Cooper and… Nicholas,” she said matter of factly. “I’ve seen them around you a few times and I know their families so I figured you’d appreciate them being here too.”

Your heart did a double beat almost falling out of your chest. Cooper and Nicholas. Cooper AND Nicholas. The two names bounced in your mind like a neon marquee.

“Are you still there, darling?” your mom’s voice pulled you back to reality.

“Yeah..yeah. I’m here,” you said, fighting to sound nonchalant. You glanced at Dionne, who’d lowered the slip dress and was watching you now with raised brows, her curiosity clearly piqued. “I’ll get everything on your list. I gotta go.”

You ended the call and slipped the phone back into your bag with hands that felt just a little too warm. Dionne’s eyes hadn’t left you.

“What was that about?” she asked, suspicion and delight mixing in her tone.

“Cooper and Nicholas are coming to the party tonight,” you muttered, finishing the rest of your champagne in one long, unbothered sip.

Dionne’s eyes went wide, then her grin stretched slow and wicked. “Both of them?”

“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on a nearby counter, grabbing another from the silver tray like it owed you money.

Her face lit up like she’d just been gifted a Birkin bag. “Oh, girl, you’re in trouble.”

She wasn’t wrong. You’d been seeing both of them—flirtations, lingering touches, stolen kisses, heavy petting in the back seat of their respective BMWs fresh off the lot —but nothing official. And now they’d both be at the same party, breathing the same air, under the same glittering chandeliers.

“You know what?” Dionne’s tone had the same decisive finality as a stylist’s finishing touch. “We’re gonna make sure you’re the most stunning thing at that party tonight. If Cooper and Nicholas want to compete, they’re gonna have to fight over a goddess.”

She yanked a sleek black mini-dress off the rack and held it up to you like she’d just discovered a gold mine. The silk fabric draped like molten lava, daring yet elegant.

“This. This is the one,” she said, eyes practically glittering.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress’s sharp lines and bold color did something to you, something powerful. Your reflection wasn’t just you. It was her. It was the girl who walked into a party and owned it.

————

The driveway to your home was already lined with sleek black sedans and luxury SUVs, a telltale sign that the party prep was well underway. As you stepped inside, the familiar symphony of controlled chaos greeted you. Maids buzzed about, fluffing cushions, arranging floral centerpieces, and wiping already spotless surfaces. The chefs moved with precision in the kitchen, their crisp white uniforms stark against the warmth of the marble countertops as the aroma of hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air.

When you reached the kitchen, you found your parents deep in conversation. The room was immaculate, bathed in the golden glow of a chandelier overhead that refracted light across the glossy marble countertops. The air carried a faint mix of roasted rosemary and aged wine, a scent that instantly evoked a sense of affluence and occasion.

Your father’s voice carried with its usual self-assured timbre, smooth as the leather of his oxblood loafers, a tone he reserved for strategizing. He stood by the kitchen island, one hand loosely gripping a crystal tumbler of scotch.

“This party will show him everything he needs to see,” he declared to your mother, his other hand gesturing with purpose. The sharp lines of his tailored pinstripe suit caught the light as he moved. “Once he sees my connections, he’ll have no choice but to promote me.”

Your mother stood nearby, her posture perfect, the pearls around her neck gleaming like tiny orbs of moonlight. Her nails—painted a classic red—tapped rhythmically against the stem of her wine glass. She listened intently, her expression serene but her eyes sharp, showing just how much this evening meant to her too.

It was your father who noticed you first, his face breaking into a grin that softened the otherwise calculated air about him. “And if all else fails,” he began, a touch of warmth entering his voice, “the fact that my daughter has joined my boss among the ranks of Stanford grads will seal the deal.” He opened his arms wide in invitation.

You stepped forward, letting yourself be enveloped in his cologne—a heady mix of cedarwood and power—before moving to embrace your mother. “You know I’m not a fan of using my education as a bargaining chip,” you teased, your lips curving into a small smile as you pulled back.

Your mother placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, her touch both tender and commanding. “It wouldn’t hurt,” she replied with an indulgent smile, her tone as polished as the sterling silver trays being carried past by staff. Then, her demeanor shifted, her voice taking on that quiet authority you’d grown up respecting. “Now, I need you to look over the seating arrangements before the guests arrive. There’s assigned seating for dinner, and I’d like your eyes on it to make sure it’s perfect.”

“Got it,” you replied, already glancing toward the dining room. From where you stood, you could see the flicker of candlelight bouncing off the long, polished mahogany table.

The place settings were immaculate: fine bone china with intricate gold detailing, crystal water goblets arranged like jewels, and name cards written in calligraphy so precise it could only have been commissioned. The centerpiece—a sprawling arrangement of deep red roses and soft white lilies—sat elegantly beneath another grand chandelier, a testament to your mother’s exacting standards.

“Don’t forget,” your mother added as she lifted her glass to her lips, “your uncle will be sitting next to Mr. Whitmore. Keep their egos balanced, darling.”

With a soft laugh, you nodded, stepping toward the dining room to inspect the scene. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoed faintly as you moved, the weight of the evening settling on your shoulders.

The dining room greeted you with the soft glow of candlelight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling mahogany table. The pristine white tablecloth looked almost too perfect to touch, and every detail, from the gold-embossed place settings to the hand-folded linen napkins, screamed elegance. The centerpiece—a lush arrangement of red roses and white lilies—stretched nearly the length of the table, its fragrance subtle but ever-present.

You ran your fingers lightly over the place cards, each bearing names written in delicate calligraphy. You knew your mother well enough to expect near-perfection, but there was always room for a few tweaks, and this was your chance to ensure things aligned with your vision. As your eyes scanned the arrangement, you found your name near the middle of the table, right next to Jason Mitchell, one of your mom’s friend’s sons. An Ivy League basketball player, Jason was pleasant enough, but you couldn’t imagine a night of forced small talk with him.

Just across the table, you spotted Dionne’s name. A smile tugged at your lips—at least your mother had the sense to seat her close. But across the table wasn’t close enough. You quickly slipped Jason’s card out of its holder and replaced it with your own, moving him to the other side. That was better. You and Dionne would have the whole evening to share knowing looks, inside jokes, and quiet commentary about the spectacle unfolding around you.

Satisfied, you continued down the table. Your mother’s place was naturally toward the head, right next to Nicholas Whitmore, a family acquaintance who always managed to dominate the conversation. A few seats down from them, you spotted another familiar name: Cooper. You paused, fingers hovering over his card. Something about seeing his name there sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

For a moment, you hesitated, chewing lightly on your lip. Cooper was already close enough, but a small part of you—the part that couldn’t resist the chance to tilt the night in your favor—wanted to shake things up. You plucked Cooper’s card from its spot and swapped it with the one next to Dionne, biting back a grin as you imagined her teasing you later. And then, almost without thinking, you reached for Nicholas’s card.

Sliding it into place beside yours, you felt a rush of something you couldn’t quite name—excitement, nerves, or maybe a bit of both. You stared at the new arrangement for a moment, the butterflies in your stomach stirring. Should you change it back? This has the potential to blow up in your face.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned on your heel, grabbing a small bowl of fruit from the sideboard on your way out. The quiet clink of your heels against the marble was drowned out by the pounding of your heartbeat as you hurried upstairs.

Your bedroom awaited, a sanctuary fit for a young socialite. The space was expansive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a stunning view of the city skyline. Plush cream carpets covered the floor, so soft you’d forgone wearing slippers long ago. A canopy bed draped with sheer white fabric stood as the centerpiece, its silk bedding in soft blush and ivory tones. A vintage vanity, lined with your collection of luxury perfumes and makeup, sat to the side, while a wall of custom closets held the curated wardrobe that your stylist loved to call “your personal archive.”

But it wasn’t any of that that caught your attention this time. It was the bouquet of pink tulips on your bed. The sight of them stopped you in your tracks. They were vibrant, freshly cut, and tied with a delicate ribbon. Resting against them was a small handwritten note. You picked it up, the paper soft and expensive beneath your fingertips.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight and make you mine.”

The signature at the bottom was unmistakable: CH, followed by a small heart. Your heart fluttered in response. Cooper. Of course it was him. He always knew exactly what to do. He remembered that tulips were your favorite — a detail Nicholas never seemed to catch on to, despite how many times he’d brought you roses. Roses were lovely, but tulips? Tulips felt personal to you, especially since Cooper knew why you liked them so much.

One sunny morning, a breakfast date with Cooper led to a stroll through the park. The air was crisp, the kind that made everything feel lighter, and the vibrant bed of tulips in bloom instantly caught your eye. You paused, pulling out your sleek Contax G2 to snap a photo, then another, and another.

Cooper chuckled, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched you. “Why so many?” he asked, his tone warm and teasing.

You smiled, lowering your camera. “When I was little, my grandmother used to sit me in her garden while she planted tulips. She was this elegant, no-nonsense woman, but in the garden, she was different. Softer. Tending to her flowers was her favorite kind of hard work. It always felt like our secret world, just the two of us.”

As you spoke, your voice softened with nostalgia, and Cooper listened intently. His usual playful demeanor shifted; the teasing glint in his hazel eyes was replaced by something deeper. He wasn’t just hearing your story—he was falling for you with every word.

The way you spoke about your grandmother, the light in your eyes as you shared this piece of yourself—it was mesmerizing. Cooper’s gaze lingered on you, filled with a quiet adoration that made the moment feel suspended in time.

From that day on, he made a silent promise to himself. Every time he saw you, he’d show up with a single tulip in hand. The first time, he offered it with a shy grin. “One for now,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “and maybe a bouquet later.”

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the memory. Fully expecting it to be Cooper calling to see if you’d gotten the flowers, you smiled as you reached for your phone. But when you glanced at the screen, your breath caught.

Nicholas.

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Hey, Nicky.”

“Hey,” his voice was warm, that lazy, playful drawl he always had when he was in a good mood. “Just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I know you’re gonna look amazing. You always do.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning back against your pillows. Your tone was sweet but eyes drifted to the tulips again, their petals catching the golden hour light filtering through your window.

“And listen,” Nicholas continued, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone, “I’ve got something planned for after the party -- If you’re up for it, of course. I’m pretty sure this will make things a little easier for you.”

You let out a breathy giggle. Nicholas knew his spontaneity and charm, aside from his good looks, could win you over. His voice blurred as your thoughts floated back to a different time, another moment when he’d swept you off your feet with his easy charisma and his knack for pulling you out of the whirlwind.

The summer after you graduated college was relentless—interviews and expectations piling on, leaving you breathless. You’d stood Nicholas up that week, overwhelmed by the chaos, but he didn’t seem to mind. He showed up at your door, calm and sure.

“You need a break,” he said, his brown eyes steady and warm. “Pack a bag. Just a change of clothes and a bathing suit.”

You didn’t argue. Moments later, you were in his car, the city fading behind he as Sinatra played softly through the speakers. The scent of saltwater greeted you long before Nicholas turned off the road onto a secluded beach.

The ocean stretched endlessly before you, sparkling under the sun. Without hesitation, you kicked off your shoes and ran toward the waves, laughing freely for the first time in weeks.

Nicholas followed at his own pace, watching you with a soft smile. “Don’t forget to breathe!” he teased, his voice light.

When you ran back, drenched and beaming, he wrapped a towel around you, pulling you close. “You’ve been carrying so much,” he said, his hand brushing your cheek. “But you don’t have to have it all figured out. Life is still beautiful, still yours to enjoy.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you whispered, “Thank you, Nicky.”

“Always,” he murmured, his fingers lacing with yours as the waves rolled in behind you.

“Y/N…hello, are you still there?”

Nicholas’s voice pulled you back to the present. His tone was gentle but curious, a soft nudge to bring you back. “You okay? You got quiet on me for a second there.”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, blinking away the memory. “I’m here. Sorry, I was listening… I think the red turtle neck would look nice, trust me.”

“I’d wear one of those rainbow umbrella hats if you told me to”, Nicholas replied with coyness, you could tell came with a snide smirk on the other end.

Your lips curved into a smile. “And I’m sure you’d look great regardless,” you checked the time on your side table alarm clock, “And if I don’t start getting ready now, you’ll show up looking better than me at my own party. I’ll see you tonight”

“See you tonight beautiful,” Nicholas said hanging up the phone.

Your phone slipped from your hands onto the bed, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. It wasn’t lost on you how complicated things had become. Nicholas and Cooper had despised each other long before you’d come into the picture. Their families had always been at odds, but the animosity had only grown after the tennis match.

You’d gone to support Cooper, not realizing Nicholas was his opponent. The tension in the air that day had been palpable, charged with more than just competitive energy. When the match ended and they’d both approached you simultaneously, their expressions a mix of confusion and hurt, it all unraveled.

They’d each thought you were there for them. Words were exchanged, chests puffed, and if one of their coaches hadn’t intervened, fists might have flown. It was messy, a little brutish, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t kind of hot.

The memory replayed in your mind, and your breath hitched as the details sharpened. You remembered the way Nicholas’s strong hands curled into tight fists, veins bulging along his forearms, his usually calm demeanor flickering with fiery intensity. Then there was Cooper, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump, his sharp blue eyes boring into Nicholas like he was daring him to make a move.

Both men had staked their claim over you in no uncertain terms. Nicholas, his deep, steady voice, a calming but commanding presence, telling Cooper to back off because you’d come to see him. Cooper, refusing to yield, had stepped forward, his broad chest rising and falling as he fired back with his own confident assertion that you’d made it clear who you were there for.

The more you remembered, the hotter you felt, a warm tingle blooming low in your belly. You couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the way they’d looked in that moment—two powerhouses, their towering frames practically vibrating with restrained aggression, both ready to fight for you. The thought sent a spark straight through you, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, desperate to quell the growing ache.

But it wasn’t enough.

You pushed yourself off the bed, deciding a cold shower would help clear your head. Your bathroom was an opulent retreat, the centerpiece of your suite. Marble countertops gleamed under the soft glow of chandelier lighting, and the oversized walk-in shower, enclosed in glass, boasted multiple showerheads and a luxurious rainfall feature. You turned the water on, adjusting it to a cool but comfortable temperature, and stepped inside, the mist already softening the tension in your muscles.

Still, as the water cascaded over your skin, you couldn’t shake the thoughts from your mind. The memory of Nicholas and Cooper’s heated argument twisted into something darker, more intoxicating. You imagined them in a different setting, their rivalry spilling into the bedroom. Instead of fighting with words, they’d use their bodies to prove who could claim you more thoroughly, more passionately.

The vivid thought sent your pulse racing. You pictured Nicholas, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he whispered in your ear, his usually composed demeanor unraveling as he sought to make you lose control. Then Cooper, not to be outdone, trailing heated kisses down your neck, his cocky smirk melting into something desperate as he worked to outdo Nicholas, both of them vying for your moans, your gasps, your finish.

The ache between your legs became unbearable. Almost on autopilot, you reached for the detachable showerhead. You adjusted the settings, angling it just right as the water pressure hit your throbbing self. A gasp escaped your lips, and your knees buckled slightly, your free hand bracing against the cool marble wall.

You let your eyes flutter shut, the fantasy playing out behind your lids as the water pulsed against you. The imagined sounds of their voices—Nicholas’s deep, breathy whispers and Cooper’s rough, low groans—mingled with the steady rhythm of the shower. Your hips moved instinctively, chasing the sensation as you rode the wave of pleasure building within you.

The cool tile of the shower wall met your back as you slammed against it, your body arching with the building tension. The relentless spray of the shower head pulsed against you, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. Your hand instinctively reached up, cupping your breast as your fingers found your nipple, squeezing and pinching in rhythm with your escalating pleasure.

Breathy moans slipped from your lips, the sound mingling with the soft hiss of water against the tile. Each whimper was sharp and unrestrained, your breaths hitching as the pressure built higher and higher. Your eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the name that spilled from your mouth was entirely unexpected.

“Nicholas…” you moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes snapped open, startled by how naturally it had slipped from your lips as if your subconscious had been holding onto it all along. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you, tightening the coil low in your belly.

Your free hand shot out to steady yourself against the opposite wall, your body trembling as the fantasy took hold. “Cooper…” you whimpered, voice laced with yearning. The thought of both men worshiping your body pushed you closer to the edge. Your lips parted, a soft cry spilling out. “That feels so good, baby…”

The vivid image filled your mind—Nicholas’s boyish grin turned wicked with desire, Cooper’s hands firm yet tender against your skin. The imagined weight of their attention, their touch, tipped you over.

Your body tensed, a shuddering gasp escaping you as the release swept through, leaving your legs weak and trembling. You clung to the wall for support, your breath stuttering in the aftermath. The tension slowly ebbed away, the pulsing water washing over you, grounding you back in reality.

A quiet laugh bubbled up as you ran a hand through your wet hair, shaking your head at yourself. “Get it together,” you muttered with a wry smile, reaching for the towel hanging nearby. Wrapping it snugly around your body, you stepped out of the shower, cheeks still flushed and thoughts lingering far longer than you intended.

----

You and Dionne lingered in the backyard’s conversation pit, the kind of luxurious setup that made you feel like you were in the pages of an interior design magazine. The space was undeniably chic—a sunken circular area surrounded by sleek stone walls, with plush cream-upholstered seating that invited you to sink in and stay a while. Overhead, string lights crisscrossed in delicate patterns, casting a warm, golden glow over the backyard. The faint scent of jasmine mixed with the lingering aroma of grilled vegetables and rosemary from dinner, while the hum of crickets filled the gaps in your conversation.

You’d both done your due diligence, making just enough small talk with the party guests to keep your mom off your back. Now, the two of you finally had a moment to yourselves. Dionne, dressed impeccably in a silky lavender blouse that shimmered in the light, swirled the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles rise before taking a sip.

“Cooper’s family came in right behind mine,” she began casually, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “And get this—he had a Van Cleef bag in his hand. When I asked him about it, he didn’t say much, but he did mention that he knew you’d love it.”

You inhaled sharply, a knowing smirk tugging at your lips. “It’s probably the Alhambra butterfly necklace. I pointed it out on our last date,” you said, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.”

Dionne laughed, her voice a warm melody against the night air. “Girl, you are so lucky. I mean, seriously. The two hottest guys from our prep school—not to mention they’ve only gotten hotter—chasing after you like this?” She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow. “I love this for you.”

You tilted your head, a wistful smile creeping across your face as you exhaled. “Yeah… it’s a lot to think about.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly with mock seriousness. “So, what are you gonna do? You’ve got to choose one eventually.”

You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your own champagne. “I don’t know, Dee.”

With a grin, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I say you pick whoever’s better in bed.”

You shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, and her mouth fell open. “Oh my God, wait—you didn’t!” She set her glass down on the low table in front of you, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned closer. “Spill! I thought for sure, with all those drives up to the mountains with Nicholas and Cooper, you’d—”

You cut her off, laughing as you waved a hand dismissively. “No, no! Part of the fun is keeping them waiting. You know me—I like a little suspense.”

Her jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, and she gasped. “You’re telling me… you’ve gone all this time and haven’t…?”

You grinned slyly, lowering your voice just enough to make her lean in further. “Kissed them enough to fog up car windows? Sure. Teased them with neck kisses and… other things during movie nights? Of course.” You paused, watching her expression as she hung on your every word. “But I’ve been keeping them on their toes. The tension? The chase? It makes everything so much hotter.”

Dionne burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “You are such a tease,” she said, still laughing. “Pure agonizing tease. But I’m here for it. Whoever you pick tonight is gonna be the luckiest man alive.”

You shrugged with a playful smirk, murmuring under your breath but loud enough for her to catch, “Maybe I’m considering both.”

Her gasp turned into a shocked laugh, loud and unabashed. “You didn’t just say that!”

Before you could reply, the patio door creaked open, and your mom’s voice rang out, cheerful but commanding. “Dinner’s ready, girls!”

The two of you exchanged a look, Dionne biting her lip to keep from giggling as you grabbed your glass. “Coming!” you called back, your voice perfectly composed.

As you stood to head inside, Dionne leaned close and whispered with a wicked grin, “I’m sure you will be.”

----

The dining room was a masterpiece of luxury, with its vaulted ceilings and gilded accents that sparkled under the glow of cascading crystal chandeliers. The table stretched nearly the entire length of the room, draped in an ivory cloth embroidered with golden threads, each place setting carefully arranged with fine china and polished silverware. The scent of freshly cut roses mingled with the faint aroma of roasted vegetables drifting in from the kitchen.

You had nearly forgot that you fixed the seating arrangement; Nicholas next to you, Dionne across from you, and Cooper next her, across from Nicholas.

You were deep in conversation with a family friend about your post-college job search, nodding thoughtfully as you explained your next steps and goals. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses from the party faded into the background, your focus entirely on the discussion. You hadn’t even noticed Nicholas and Cooper making their way toward the table.

Before you realized what was happening, Nicholas was at your side, effortlessly pulling out your chair. His hand—large and warm—found its place on your waist, guiding you gently but firmly back to your seat. The subtle pressure of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, but you maintained your composure, offering a polite smile as you wrapped up the conversation.

His gesture wasn’t just polite—it was deliberate, designed to be noticed. A murmur of approval rippled through the room, subtle but unmistakable. You caught the small smile tugging at your mother’s lips from across the table, her eyes glinting with pride at the display of gentlemanly behavior.

You murmured your thanks as you sat, letting him slide your chair in. His cologne, an enticing blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“My pleasure,” he said, the words brushing against your ear like a secret meant only for you.

Across the table, Cooper’s reaction was immediate and impossible to miss. His jaw tightened, his hand gripping the back of his chair as he glared at Nicholas with barely concealed irritation. The muscle in his cheek twitched, and his eyes flicked back to you, darkened by an emotion you could only describe as possessive.

Despite his simmering frustration, Cooper stayed seated, refusing to make a scene. Dionne flashed you a look of saucy approval, you hid your smirk before the server came over to take your order.

As Nicholas returned to his seat, Cooper’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, his eyes tracing your features before he finally turned his attention to the wine list in front of him.

You sat there, calm and poised on the outside, but your heart was pounding.

The servers moved seamlessly around the table, placing delicate plates of appetizers before each guest. The room was alive with the clink of silverware and soft murmurs of conversation, but your focus wavered as your father stood from his seat, raising his glass with an air of practiced authority.

“To community,” he began, his voice steady and commanding as it carried across the room. “To connections that bring us together and strengthen us—personally, professionally, and beyond.” He gestured toward his boss with a respectful nod, his smile warm but calculated.

He turned to you next, his eyes softening. “To my brilliant daughter, whose success continues to amaze us all.” His glass tilted toward your mom as his smile widened. “And to my wife, the love of my life, whose support has made all of this possible.”

The table erupted in polite applause and scattered cheers, and your mom lifted her glass with an appreciative smile. “To family,” she said, her voice bright and sincere. “And to the man who keeps ours grounded and inspired every day.”

The momentum of the toasts carried on as others chimed in. Your uncle stood to wish everyone health and wealth, and a few other family friends added their sentiments about the joys of togetherness and new opportunities. You thought the flurry of toasts had finally come to a close when a brief silence settled over the room.

But then, a low screech of wood against polished floors cut through the quiet as Cooper rose from his seat.

“And a toast,” he began, his voice clear and bold, the room instantly drawn to him. His gaze was locked on you, his hazel eyes shimmering with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “To Y/N, for her beauty and grace.”

The air seemed to still as the words left his lips, his tone brimming with sincerity. “Since the day I met her, she’s done nothing but charm me and challenge me to be a better man.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as every eye turned toward you. You managed a smile—tongue-in-cheek, though your cheeks burned with heat. You could feel Dionne nearly vibrating across from you, barely able to contain her giddy excitement as she pressed her lips tightly together to suppress a grin.

Next to you, Nicholas’s expression darkened like a brewing storm. His fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass with such force you thought it might snap. His jaw clenched visibly, the muscle ticking with restrained fury as his eyes shot daggers at Cooper.

Your mom, ever the master of social nuance, caught your eye with a subtle nod and an intrigued glint in her gaze. Whatever this was, she seemed to think it was not only entertaining but possibly advantageous. Your dad, on the other hand, looked utterly bewildered, his brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Cooper.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, Dionne, raised her glass high, her voice ringing out cheerfully. “To everyone here tonight!”

The collective relief after Dionne’s toast was nearly tangible as glasses were raised, and the murmur of polite conversation began to hum around the table once more. Everyone seemed eager to let the tension dissipate—everyone except for Nicholas, who still hadn’t lifted his glass.

His knuckles were white as they gripped the base of the wine glass, the sharp angles of his jaw working overtime as he stared daggers at Cooper. It was a standoff only the two of them seemed to be fully aware of, the air between them crackling with silent hostility.

Cooper, ever the opportunist, didn’t let the moment pass unnoticed. “Come on, Nicholas,” he said with a sly grin, his voice just loud enough to draw a few curious glances. “Don’t be a barbarian—it’s a wine glass. You just grab it and raise it when everyone else does.”

The jab was subtle but sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. Nicholas’s jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he might crack a tooth. His eyes burned with a fury that would have sent most people scrambling, but Cooper only leaned back slightly in his chair, his confidence brimming.

Cooper cocked his shoulders with an ease that was almost infuriating, a smirk tugging at his lips as he shot Nicholas a wink. It was the kind of victorious, self-assured gesture that screamed I’ve won this round, and it left no doubt in anyone’s mind about who had taken control of the moment.

Nicholas finally, begrudgingly, raised his glass, his movements slow and deliberate as if every second of compliance was a battle. His dark eyes flicked back to you briefly, the intensity in them leaving a shiver down your spine.

Dinner had gone smoothly, though the charged undercurrent of tension was unmistakable. The low murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware against fine china, and the occasional burst of laughter from the adults filled the air.

The dining room was grand, with soft golden light spilling from an ornate chandelier above the long table, casting a warm glow over the elegant table settings and half-empty glasses of wine. Cooper and Nicholas, seated strategically to keep you in their orbit, continued their subtle battle for your attention.

You maintained a composed and neutral demeanor, responding with polite smiles and light conversation. Internally, though, you were keenly aware of their every move. Dionne, sitting opposite you, occasionally met your eye with a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying the game unfolding before her.

She couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. Between bites of her crème brûlée, she tossed out quips like, “Y/N needs a man who’s not intimidated by success. Nicholas, are you intimidated by women with success?” Her tone was teasing, but the twinkle in her eye left little doubt she was having fun watching them squirm.

Nicholas smirked, tapping the rim of his glass. “Oh, I’m more than capable of keeping up, Coop. It’s just a matter of knowing how to play the game.” His eyes never left you, the unspoken message clear.

Cooper leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s not about playing the game, Nick. It’s about winning it.” He raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air as he slid a teasing glance in your direction. "And trust me, I know how to win."

Nicholas chuckled again, the sound low and confident. “Winning isn’t always about being first. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to take your time.” His voice dropped a notch, a subtle invitation lingering in his words.

Cooper wasn’t backing down. “Taking your time? I guess we’ll see how far that gets you when the clock’s ticking.” He gave you a wink, his tone playful yet laden with challenge. “I work better under pressure, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nicholas quipped, his gaze sharp. “But we all know who’s got the stamina for the long haul.” His lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned forward, his voice a bit lower. "Some things can’t be rushed."

Cooper’s grin widened, the tension crackling in the air. “Maybe. But there’s a difference between stamina and strategy. And I’ve got both on my side.” He turned toward you with a knowing look, making sure to catch your eye before adding, “You’ll see what I mean.”

Nicholas shot him a sly glance, clearly not phased. “I think she already has, Coop.” He met your gaze, the connection undeniable, before turning back to Cooper. “But we’ll see how the game plays out.”

You and Dionne could hardly contain yourselves, struggling to stifle chuckles and your face getting hot from tension from the boys but trying to withstand the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The party had gradually wound down, the lively buzz of conversation and laughter from earlier now replaced by a soft hum of voices in the backyard. A few remaining guests lingered with your parents, gathered in the cozy conversation pit beneath the glow of string lights. The gentle rustle of the breeze carried snippets of their relaxed chatter, the occasional clink of glasses punctuating the calm atmosphere. The backyard was a picture of tranquility, the perfect wind-down to an otherwise bustling evening.

You, with a gentle nudge from Dionne, signaling that with everyone outside it’s the perfect time for you to get away with Nicholas and Cooper to your room. You put your hand on Nicholas’ thigh at the dinner table, speaking just above a whisper for him to join you in your room. You see the excitement bubbling in him, but it quickly diminished when you invited Cooper as well.

What had started as a laid-back conversation about clothes and music had spiraled into a heated argument between the two -- it was loud and abrasive but exactly your plan.

You sat on the edge of the bed while they stood on either side of you and argued.

“God, everything about you is so trite,” Nicholas scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Cooper’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “Trite? Coming from you?” He gestured toward Nicholas, his voice steady but biting. “That’s rich coming from like the Ivy league frat trash."

Cooper’s gaze darkened. “Everyone knows how many times you got arrested for disorderlies, daddy came and bailed you out each and every time and now you have a cushy job at his firm because no one would hire your ass! ”

Nicholas straightened, stepping forward, his voice low and dangerous. “At least I can keep her interested. You? You’d bore her to tears with your lectures about art-house films and overpriced coffee.”

“You think she wants some overgrown frat boy? Grow up. She deserves someone who’ll treat her right, not drag her into your mess.”

“Oh, because you’re the knight in shining armor?” Nicholas sneered. “I bring something to the table you never could”

Cooper took a slow breath, his calm exterior fraying. “That explains why you showed up empty-handed tonight, huh? Not even a rose. Thoughtful as ever, I see.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek Van Cleef bag, holding it up for emphasis. “This, at least, shows I care enough to know what she likes.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “You think gifts are the way to her heart? Please. She can buy that for herself. I give her what she needs.”

Cooper tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low growl. “You don’t even know what she needs.”

As their words grew sharper, the room seemed to heat with tension, and you couldn’t help the twinge deep in your core. Their arguing wasn’t just about their preferences or styles; it was about you. The way they both stared at each other, the venom in their words—it all pointed back to the same thing: they were fighting for you.

“Boys, please,” you interrupted, your voice low but firm, cutting through the heated tension between them. It wasn’t a harsh tone—just commanding enough to grab their attention and stop the bickering. Their arguing immediately ceased, leaving a palpable silence in its wake.

“Claiming you both know what I want without actually asking me? That’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” you said, your teasing tone relieving some of the aggressive energy in the room. Though the animosity between Nicholas and Cooper lingered beneath the surface, their eyes were now focused entirely on you, brimming with adoration.

Cooper shifted, sitting down beside you and resting a hand gently on your thigh. “Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and apologetic, but his expression still held a hint of smugness as he flashed you his charming, dimpled smile. “He just brings out the worst in me.”

Nicholas scoffed from across the room before dropping down on your other side with a dramatic plop. “As if you don’t deserve it,” he muttered, but his eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that betrayed his annoyance.

“What can I do for you?” Cooper asked, taking your hands in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles in a gesture that felt as much a declaration of his feelings as it was a jab at Nicholas.

“Relax,” Nicholas cut in, his tone flat and stern, clearly irritated by Cooper’s display. His gaze never left yours as he leaned in closer.

The exchange made you chuckle, and to diffuse the tension, you leaned toward Nicholas and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline. His eyes softened slightly, the hard edge of his frustration melting away under your touch.

You took a steadying breath, your heart thumping in your chest as both sets of eyes bore into you, waiting. “I appreciate the gifts, the dates,” you began, your tone gentle but deliberate, making sure they both felt the weight of your words. “You know I do. But I want—need—more.”

Both of them stilled, their hesitation palpable as they processed your words. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You met their gazes, your voice calm but dripping with intent as you added, “I want you both to show me.”

Nicholas blinked, his brown eyes wide, stunned into silence for a beat before he managed to stammer, “You mean… both of us? Now?” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

You gave him a pointed look, your eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering. Bedroom eyes, they used to call it, and now you wielded them with purpose.

“Like… at the same time?” Cooper’s voice was shaky, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His uncertainty didn’t stop him from leaning forward slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of awe and yearning.

Instead of answering, you rose from the bed with a fluid motion, standing in front of them. Slowly, you reached for the zipper of your dress, letting the straps slip down your shoulders with deliberate care. Every movement was intentional, slow and teasing, as you drew the fabric down over your body. Their eyes were glued to you, neither daring to speak as the tension thickened in the air, the anticipation palpable with every second.

When your dress finally pooled at your feet, you stood before them in nothing but the delicate lingerie you’d chosen earlier—an ensemble designed to accentuate every curve, every detail meant to entice. The way their jaws tightened, the way their gazes roamed your figure, drinking you in, was all the confirmation you needed.

Their eyes tracked your every movement as if they couldn’t look away, taking in the way the soft fabric slid from your body and the confident way you climbed onto the bed. Positioned at its center, you gave them both a look that was equal parts commanding and inviting. They remained frozen, caught between anticipation and hesitation, until you broke the silence with a playful challenge.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” you teased, your tone sultry yet light.

That was all it took. In an instant, both of them sprang into action, fumbling with buttons and pulling at their clothes. Their movements were uncoordinated at first—hands catching on shirt sleeves and belts—but as their layers peeled away, the uncertainty melted into something more primal. Even as they undressed, their eyes never left you, their hunger for you evident in every glance and the way their chests rose and fell with heavy breaths.

Nicholas was the first to make his move. He crossed the mattress with a deliberate pace, crawling toward you with a confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. The way his back muscles rippled with each movement made your pulse quicken, a delicious ache building inside you as you watched him close the gap.

When he reached you, his large hands found your waist, his grip firm but reverent as he gently pulled you closer to him. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to your stomach, each touch sending waves of warmth and electricity through your body. The sensation of his breath on your skin, the way his fingers brushed against your sides, left you breathless.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and almost reverent. His hands slid up to cradle your torso, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against your ribs as he kissed his way upward, pausing just below your sternum.

Behind him, Cooper hesitated for a moment, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and determination. Then, as if spurred on by Nicholas’s lead, he climbed onto the bed, his movements slower and more deliberate, but no less intense.

Cooper reached out with a steady hand, his touch on your jaw both tender and possessive as he guided your face to his. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was deep and consuming, filled with a need that made your breath hitch. His kiss wasn’t just a gesture—it was a declaration, a challenge to Nicholas as much as it was a promise to you.

As your lips moved together, you couldn’t ignore the way Nicholas’s hands continued their deliberate exploration, his mouth now dangerously close to your pantyline. His hot breath against your skin sent shivers racing up your spine, the contrast between his slow, teasing movements and Cooper’s demanding kiss leaving you feeling utterly undone.

Cooper’s grip on your waist tightened as though anchoring you to him, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a fleeting but intimate gesture. Before Nicholas could draw all your attention, Cooper broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

His words made your heart skip, but before you could respond, Cooper took your hand, guiding it deliberately to him, pressing it against the hardness straining against the fabric of his underwear. The heat of him, the way he swelled and grew under your touch, sent a flush spreading through your body.

Your lips trailed to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, and you bit down lightly at the juncture of his collarbone. Cooper’s low groan vibrated against your lips, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your hand made you smile against his skin.

Nicholas, clearly unwilling to be ignored, let out a soft chuckle against your stomach. “Don’t forget about me,” he teased, his voice thick with heat and a hint of frustration. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above your hip bone before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slightly.

In one smooth motion, Nicholas pulled your panties down and tossed them aside, his movements confident and deliberate. His hands immediately found your most sensitive spot, his thumbs massaging slow, tantalizing circles against your clit, sending sparks shooting through your body. A moan escaped your lips, muffled against the warmth of Cooper’s neck, but the tremble in your breath gave you away.

Nicholas smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction. “You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His words only made the fire in your belly burn hotter. “That’s my good, perfect girl.”

The praise sent a wave of heat rushing through you, and before you could catch your breath, Nicholas moved with purpose. He slid down the bed, lying flat on his back, and with a firm but gentle grip, he guided you over him. “Come here,” he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His strong hands gripped your thighs, and he used his biceps to brace you down onto him, holding you firmly in place.

As soon as his mouth met your core, a shudder of pleasure rippled through you. Nicholas’s tongue moved with expert precision, lapping at you with a hunger that left you breathless. The flat of his tongue pressed against your most sensitive spot before he shifted to flick and swirl, his lips sealing around your clit to suck gently.

You tried to keep your composure, to maintain your focus on Cooper, but it was impossible. Your lips faltered against his skin, your head falling back as a strangled moan tore from your throat. Cooper chuckled softly, his hand coming up to steady you as your body trembled.

“Losing focus already?” Cooper teased, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You tried to respond, but Nicholas’s tongue was relentless, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as he worked. Your back arched involuntarily, and your hands flew out to brace yourself, one landing on Cooper’s chest while the other tangled in Nicholas’s hair.

Nicholas hummed against you, the vibrations making your thighs quiver. He tilted his head slightly, his tongue diving deeper to explore every inch of you, his pace never faltering. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and your head fell forward, resting on Cooper’s chest as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

Nicholas’s hum of approval sent shockwaves through your body, his tongue moving with precision as if he knew exactly how to unravel you. Cooper’s lips on your neck were hot and insistent, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothed the marks with his tongue. His large hands kneaded your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples, each motion sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your chest.

Your moans filled the room, their names tumbling from your lips in a desperate symphony that seemed to drive them further. Nicholas’s voice rumbled against you, low and commanding. “Good girl,” he praised, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he worked his tongue deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive bud in a way that made your toes curl.

Cooper’s hands slid down your sides, grounding you in his touch as his kisses became hungrier, more possessive. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with admiration and arousal.

The idea of them putting their differences aside, silently agreeing to focus on your pleasure, sent a new wave of heat surging through you. The coordinated rhythm of their touches left you completely undone, your body trembling as they spurred you closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers tangled in Cooper’s hair, pulling him closer as your other hand gripped the sheets beneath you. “I—I’m so close Cooper, I'm gonna cum” you gasped, your body teetering on the brink. Nicholas responded with another hum, his tongue circling your sensitive spot with precision, while Cooper pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as you finally shattered.

Your release washed over you in waves, your body arching as you cried out, their names spilling from your lips like a mantra. Nicholas slowed his pace, helping you ride out the high, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. Cooper held you steady, his kisses softening as he murmured reassurances against your lips.

When the aftershocks subsided, you slumped against Cooper’s chest, your breathing ragged, your body tingling from head to toe. Nicholas looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening. “Told you I’d make you feel good,” he teased, his voice thick with pride. Before sauntering off to the bathroom, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss that left you breathless. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, and when you bit his lip playfully, a low, guttural moan escaped him. He pulled away with a grin that promised more, leaving you flushed and wanting.

Cooper stayed close, his hands gently stroking your sides before he tilted your chin up and kissed you again. His lips were softer, slower, carrying a tenderness that made your heart flutter. As the kiss ended, he pulled back and reached for his jacket, retrieving a sleek Van Cleef bag.

“While he’s away,” Cooper said, his voice low and intimate, “I wanted to give you this.”

From the bag, he pulled out a delicate Alhambra butterfly necklace. The intricate design shimmered in the soft light, the wings adorned with mother-of-pearl framed by gleaming gold. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail reflecting thoughtfulness and care.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped closer, holding the necklace carefully. “I know this isn’t a deciding factor,” he continued, his tone earnest, “but even if you end up with him, I know how much you wanted this. You deserve it.”

Speechless, you turned your back to him, your hair falling to one side as he clasped the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Crossing the room, you stopped in front of the vanity, your reflection glowing. The necklace sat perfectly against your collarbone, a symbol of Cooper’s thoughtfulness and affection.

You ran your fingers over the pendant, a soft smile spreading across your lips. The more you looked in the mirror, the more the reality of your situation sank in. Two incredible men, each devoted to your happiness in their own ways. Nicholas, with his passionate intensity and relentless focus on your pleasure. Cooper, with his tender gestures and unwavering desire to see you smile. How could anyone possibly ask for more?

Your fingers lingered at the base of your throat, tracing the butterfly before letting them trail lower, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “You know,” you said, glancing back at Cooper with a spark in your eye, “if you’re going to spoil me like this, I might just have to make it up to you.”

Cooper chuckled, his gaze darkening with desire as he closed the distance between you. “I think I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

[machveil]

alright I know we’ve all talked about how johnny is a bush guy and honestly. bars. but it got me thinking about the why (the smell, obvi) and the how and the nitty gritty details.

start off with the facts: he didn’t ALWAYS know he was a bush guy. I love my beautiful pathetic man but I also strongly believe that part of his gym behaviors and simp tendencies stem from being a Loser in his youth. man was terminally bitchless. and that means, of course, that he watched truly SO much porn. and thanks to that influence, he spent much of his early adulthood thinking body hair on a woman or man was gross.

his path to enlightenment began in his first threesome. he proudly brags about the time he banged two chicks at once to his army buddies— and he did! but the reality might do less for those guys than it did (and still does) for johnny. some femme top and her pet butch took him home for the night, a little three person party to satisfy the craving for some strange. he’d planned for SOMEONE to spend the night face down ass up, just didn’t think it’d be himself. ariana and len had taught him the joys of pegging, body hair, and pad thai that night. he still sends them christmas cards.

from that day on it was him and his love of pubic hair against the world. fascinatingly, he isn’t as committed to other forms of body hair— whatever state of shaved or not his partners come to him is fine, so long oral involves him diving face first into bliss. he likes chest hair on a man, but he won’t weep the way he does when he sees a naked twig and berries. women with armpit hair? cute, but shave it if you want. just don’t leave his poor kitty out in the cold 🥺

and when he finally settles down with his girl (gonna go cis afab on this one bc it’s wish fulfillment for yours truly), best BELIEVE he is involved in that grooming routine. not in a controlling way (or not without prior consent, anyway). but as soon as he had the green light , hes buying the mildest hair oils, cotton underwear, the most unscented soap he can find! he wants his best friend to be comfortable and cared for!!!!! also you ig, whatever. he’ll even help with trimming every few months if it’s ABSOLUTELY necessary. just be prepared for him to pout the whole time. gently massaging his “favourite forest” (that one got him a kick to the head) is his most beloved pastime. he views cotton as the cleanest canvas for an artists masterpiece, folds his darlings panties with the care and admiration of a craftsman with the tools of his trade. there’s a special sort of hum in his chest as he tucks them into their shared intimates drawer, knowing he’ll see them on the other side when they smell musky and used and perfect.

AUGH i just live for Johnny being an absolute dog when it comes to being a munch+!!!!! (the plus is the hair). him coming home from a stressful day and peeling his sweet thing out of her knickers just so he can’t put his face down and kiss and smell and nuzzle. and half the time it’s not even sexual, he just feels so CLOSE to his partner at this, the most essential part of them. short of cracking open their ribcage and climbing in, it’s the best he can get to satisfy the part of him that craves the safety and closeness and comfort of them being one. FUCK he’s such a freak I wanna match it!!!!!!!!!

anon, I’m kissing your cheek, my Johnny thoughts have been loud lately and this scratched my brain just right. I don’t even have any notes, it was just a stellar take. shoutout to Ariana and Len, iconic

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[sparrowlucero]

Instead of discourse about showrunners and lesbians and whatever, I'm gonna bring a different type of discourse...whats ur fav and least Dr Whomst monsters. Hard mode: only the practical ones.

ok so I do like all the obvious ones, I like the angels, I like the vashta nerada, I like the not-things, I like the eternals. Here's a few deeper cuts (focusing on the tv show specifically):

they peaked with these maggots. they rock. pretty sure they're made with taxidermy? really great puppetry. I really like this thing:

what a cool design for this kind of forgotten midseason episode.

this is such a fun design for a langolier-type monster. I love how their crest and tail gives them the silhouette of a grim reaper

The 60s cybermen rock. I feel like they're hesitant to use them often in the modern show because they do look very 1960s but I think there's something really uncomfortable and evocative about the cloth faces that's lost when they're cool metallic robots. The mix between looking like an old diving suit and the implication of there being a chopped up person inside is gnarly and I love it. Simple, creepy, iconic design.

My favorite design in the show is probably this:

The 456 from the spinoff series torchwood. They didn't need the puppet to emote or move a ton since it spends the entire season in a little tank obscured in mist, so they just went crazy with the design and made it really bizarre looking. Extremely top tier alien. Anyways, negative. I really don't like this satan. the satan kind of sucks. the impossible planet is great atmospheric sci fi horror; every image of build up in it is haunting and leagues ahead of the climactic scene where he meets the satan. It singlehandedly kind of kills the vibe.

Personally I would have just kept the actual appearance off screen, just have it be eyes in the dark or something. Apparently they also tossed around the idea that it would end up being a normal little girl who was chained up in the cave and I think that would have visually fit the rest of the episode better.

I'm really not big on the modern design for the sea devils (the green one on the right). I think the classic ones clearly took a lot of direct influence from real animals and generally is a pretty thoughtfully realized design, the modern ones seem like they were first and foremost using the classic ones for reference and didn't quite capture the nuance of the design. Sad, as I would really like to see design for these guys with modern puppetry.

I think this is actually a pretty contentious opinion but the work of the specific studio who headed this redesign generally wasn't my favorite. Apparently there was some sort of major, semi public falling out between the fx studio that had been working on the show since 2005 and the people who started running the show in 2018, and they were briefly replaced with a much less experienced studio. No hate to them of course (I think this was actually their first job like, ever, and a lot of the work was done in crunch time?) but the difference did stand out to me:

[roseworth]

what direction do you think they should have gone in with jason? as in where should he be now in terms of people and what he's doing

i think winick had it exactly right green arrow #69-72 and batman & robin #23-25. he was a villain but he had a Method and a Purpose. and usually that purpose was just to fuck with batman. i loooove it when hes a villain and hes very clearly doing bad things, but hes not just indiscriminately killing people. hes doing it for a reason, hes still doing the same thing he was doing in utrh by controlling the drug trade, and even when hes doing the right thing hes being an asshole about it

i especially love the ga issues because jason doesnt even talk to batman but bruce KNOWS what hes doing and he knows its about him. i love the bruce & jason post-utrh dynamic where they've both pretty much said everything they have to say and neither of them is changing their position, so now jason is just starting fires to get attention. "ok bruce you dont want to talk to me? thats fine. ill just follow you to star city then psychologically torture a teenage girl then blow her up in front of you" icon! i forgive him! i think its so fun when red hood is a member of batman's rogues gallery and bruce feels bad every time he fights him but also he kinda cant stand him since he knows jason is only doing it to mess with him and its working. but also jason is a Greater Good person so he DOES end up working with the bats sometimes just because theyre also working on the good side

anyways the ideal bruce & jason dynamic to me is "the love was there and it made everything so much worse" because jason is doing everything for bruces attention because he loves him and wants him to care about him but hes not willing to budge on his own morals and neither is bruce. and bruce loves jason so he doesnt want to arrest him or put him in danger but also hes killing people and doing terrible things and bruce is batman so he feels obligated to. yk. stop him. and as much as they both love each other they do not like each other at all

in my mind jason doesnt really care about any of the other bats besides dick & babs just because he knew them before he died so hes willing to hang out with them but they Do Not want to see him. like in brothers in blood when jason goes hiiiii dick <3 lets hang out <3333 and dick is constantly suppressing the cain instinct. he never really talks to babs pre52 i think theyre interactions would be very similar in that jason goes hey babs ur so cool <33 and she says jason get the fuck away from me or im activating the bomb in your helmet <3

but also with steph even though he didnt know her pre-death,, i think he would like her. i can imagine him doing something very similar to what he did with mia, basically finding her and going "quit your vigilante career. join my emo band" but i think she would end up being a lot more receptive to it than mia was ! like im thinking batgirl 2009 era steph so she would not be on board with the idea of joining him since things were going well with team batgirl, but i also think that any interaction between the two of them in that era would go well and end with them getting along :)

as for everyone else. i dont think he would care about any of them. theyre just kinda collateral damage in his war with bruce. like he gets involved with them sometimes just because of their proximity to bruce, or like i said earlier that he works with them sometimes because he cares about the greater good so is willing to help them when necessary. also honorable mention to aoifa's headcanon that jason doesnt actually know tims name because he just does not care. thats canon to me

so yeah in conclusion: he should be a morally grey villain that does what he does either for the greater good, or to fuck with batman, or both. and he has complicated relationships with all of them bc he likes bruce dick and babs but also kinda hates all of them and they like but also hate him too. and the rest of them he doesn't really give a shit about

[trulyumai]

Fall Baking

pairing: eddie munson / gf! reader

synopsis: it was finally fall. more rain, more sweaters. this also meant the return of the infamous, ‘Hawkins Fair.’ eddie could care less about it really, but you were ecstatic.

warnings: none, fluff only!

A/N: im baking like crazy right now so this automatically came to my head. I’m ready to drown in pumpkin bread and warm coffee.

Eddie knew you loved the fall.

When the leafs started to turn, the weather getting colder and sbittier than normal, yeah, that was when that thing happened to your eyes.

They’d get all shiny and well, cute.

He was the opposite. He could do without the hindrance of rain bearing against him anytime he wanted to take out the trash or walk to the corner store.

But seeing you so happy about little sprinkles of condensation made the man weak.

So he detested the cold weather a little less for you.

And you know what the cold weather brought?

Fall excursions.

Aka: The Fair.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Slamming your lunch down on the table, your body molded against his in one solid motion.

Eddie grunted out in surprise, but it didn’t stop you from talking about the surprise you had in store.

“The fair is coming back!”

Only stares were given, Gaven looked over at Jeff who was returning the same empty, confused look.

Eddie jumped in with a clearing of his throat, being the best boyfriend ever he had to save the day, right?

“No way, baby!”

“Way!” You giggled, relaxing into Eddies hold as you dug out the celery sticks in your little box.

“And, the school is accepting student stalls, that’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Why is that fun— ow!” With a harsh kick to Gavin’s knee, Eddie changed the subject.

“That’s cool babe, you could do a baking themed one. Your treats are to dieeeee for.”

“Oh yeah! Been a while since I got the iconic Mrs. Munson brownies,” Gavin sighed out. Already imagining the pillowy, chocolaty goodness that was always oozing with warmth.

“That’s not what I named them.” You laughed, “Buuuut if you boys help me out with the stall I promise to bake one thing if your choosing!”

This garnered the attention of the hellfire club fast. Eddie was almost jealous at how entranced you got everyone.

“Anything?”

“Can you do cakes?”

“Ooooh the brownieees!” Almost everyone talked over one another, already fantasizing about the treats they’ll ask for.

“Uhhhh babe?” Eddies rings were cold against your thighs, your dark green skirt rid up against the tops of his legs, showcasing your pretty and soft skin.

“Mhm?” You replied, already turning towards your wild haired boyfriend.

“And what do I get? I mean I love your baking, obviously! but I can get that anytime.”

That was… true.

Damn it you thought you had everyone sinched into the plan. But of course Eddie would try to sneak something else into play.

“Well ummm,” he stumped you this time.

Furrowing your brows, you bit lightly on the inside of your cheek. Thoroughly searching your brain for anything Eddie might approve of.

Clothes? No, Eddie only wore his favorite staples anyway. Maybe you could offer to clean his room? No, you just did that last weekend when he was too busy snoring on the couch.

Think, think!—

“I knooow what I want.”

You knew that tone. That deep drawl that makes his voice come out in a low, teasing hush.

Eddie indicated you closer with just a wag of his index finger.

You felt the weight of his breath hit the side of your face, warm and light.

“I want,” he breathed in this time, dragging his lips closer and closer until they brushed against the side of your jaw.

“You, to spend the night, every nite this week.”

“Eddie!” Rolling your orbs you pushed his face away. “That’s kinda impossible. You know how my parents are—“

“Pretty please, sweetheart? It’s been forever!”

“I just spent the night on saturday!”

“That was literally forever ago.”

“Eddie.” Your fingers brushed with his temple, lightly pushing against them.

“That was two days ago.”

He only shook his head in rebuttal, moving his legs until your frame was once again close to his.

“My point still stands. Forever ago! And you need my help, who will keep these idiots in check?”

“Hey!” A few club mates responded back, but quickly went into their own baking conversations.

“Not all week. Two days,”

“Three!” Eddie challenged. With a mocking squint to your eyes you huffed out a breath.

“Fine! You win. Three days.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, smothering a sloppy kiss on your cheek and raised a hand to high five Gavin.

What a dork.

“You won’t regret this baby. I just got new snacks, cleaned my room—“

“You cleaned your room?”

Eddie cleared his throat and his long fingers came up to play with the loose hair around your neck.

“Well.. no, but it’s still clean from when you did it— ouch!”

Grabbing the man’s soft cheek, you began to pull.

“Hey hey, easy easy, I was just joking!—“

“Sooooo funny, Eddie.” Laughing, you watched as his fingers came up to the pinched spot, rubbing it with a soft tenderness like you had plucked the skin right off his face.

Grabbing at your celery you joined into the groups conversation. Trying to remember each and every goodie the gang wanted you to bake.

This is gonna be a long week.

But at least it’s fall, right?

….

Right..?

[littlebumblebeesstuff]

Picture Board - Cg!Bucky x GN!reader

Summary: Bucky looks after his nonverbal little.

Warning: Neurodivergent little reader. Mentions of sensory issues, nonverbal communication. Mention of pull-ups

It had been a looong morning.

You had been up and down through the night which left you tired and fussy.

And then you hated all your clothes- screaming and crying as Bucky offered you different options. It hurt him to see you struggling with emotions that were just too big for your little body.

He was no stranger to your sensory issues, having spoken in detail about them with you when you were big.

But you just couldn't get the words to come out, which made you more upset, which led to a mini-meltdown.

It took a while, but Bucky finally managed to get you into a pull-up, and a light green fluffy oodie that had frogs on it. Matching fluffy socks were on your feet.

You had slept through most of the morning and into early afternoon, so now you were in your playroom, curled up on a pile of soft blankets and pillows, watching bluey with captions on, and the sound at low volume.

You had a fidget toy in your hands as you watched your cartoon, finally settled after a hard morning.

"Hi, pumpkin, do you need something?"

Bucky smiles widely as he crouched down to your level, watching as you played with your fidget toy.

You hum softly around your paci in response, not looking up at your Baba. He didn't mind this, knowing that eye contact could make you uncomfortable.

"Can you use your words?" When you shake your head Bucky follows up with, "Are words too much right now? That’s okay, little one, sometimes words are just too big."

He shifts and watches you fondly, thinking about how to make sure you are able to communicate with him

"Can you write it down?"

Another head shake, "No? Okay let me go get your picture board."

He gets up and moves across the colourful room to the chest of drawers and opens the top drawer to take out the picture board and extra cards.

He swiftly moves back to your side and kneels down again, holding the board out to you.

"Here you go, sweetheart. Can you point to what you’d like"

Your eyes move away from your fidget toy and to the board. Looking over the icons you point to the picture of a juice box.

"Juice? Of course, honey! We have blackcurrant, orange, or apple, which would you like? You can just hold up 1, 2, or 3 fingers."

You hum softly again, this time as you think about what juice you want. Then you hold up 3 fingers.

"Three? Apple juice it is. I’ll go fill up your sippy. Anything else?"

Bucky smiles as you nod.

"Yup, just point to the picture for me."

Bucky waits patiently as you point to the picture board.

"A hug? Oh pumpkin, of course you can get a hug, come here. You’re my sweet little one, and I love you so much!"

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Dog days are over

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Elizabeth isn’t a dog person… but you are. After the puppy interview, you try to convince your girlfriend to take one of them home.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. It was inspired by the iconic puppy interview, obviously, but I changed the questions to fit the plot.

MASTERLIST

“Oh, my God,” you uttered at yourself under your breath, immediately bringing a hand to cover your mouth and stop a laugh from escaping as you watched the scene unfold in front of the cameras.

You were sitting behind the expensive equipment among the technical team while you all watched your girlfriend, Elizabeth, sitting in the middle of the room with several puppies surrounding her as she tried to answer the questions being thrown her way. It had been complete havoc since the start, something you had predicted when Elizabeth first told you she agreed with that interview - an internet success, which you had watched many other actors doing it before. However, Elizabeth kept her distance from most animals and you were waiting for the chaos that was going on right now.

What you didn’t expect was that a black puppy would jump to try to bite her hair and just fall on her chest, causing Elizabeth to squeak before she could stop herself. You had to hold your laugh the best you could so you wouldn’t disturb the recording, but you almost slipped when you saw your girlfriend trying to cover up her reaction by laughing and awkwardly scooping the puppy into her arms. You usually didn’t tag along to her interviews - especially because sitting behind the camera all day was boring as hell - but Elizabeth had asked you if you wanted to go with her and you didn’t think twice before saying yes. The reason? That scene right there. A slightly panicked Elizabeth holding an overly excited puppy who was waggling his tail and trying to lick her face.

Well, the fact that there were going to be cute puppies also convinced you to be there.

Elizabeth might not be used to being around animals like that, but you grew up surrounded by them. Since you were a small child, your family had a dog, which ended up coming home pregnant one day and the house was suddenly filled with eight other puppies. Your mother managed to give two of them to other family members before you started crying and screaming saying you didn’t want them to go, and that has been it. You grew up surrounded by dogs. When you left for college, you couldn’t adopt any dog since they took so much time, but you entered your dorm one day and found a black cat sitting on top of your computer, and that’s how you ended up with a new pet. The cat, unfortunately, was already a bit old and he ended up passing away a couple of years after you left college.

Since then, you hadn’t gotten any other pets because you lived in an apartment and had a demanding job that kept you away most of the time, but you loved going back to your parents’ house because they still had many dogs and some other animals - your father still hadn’t explained how they ended up with a tortoise, but you were fine with it.

So, yes, you were having the time of your life.

“Are you a cat person?” The question made by one of the interviewers brought your attention back to the scene in front of you.

When Elizabeth quickly replied with a short “nope” you laughed before you could stop yourself, but luckily you weren’t the only one since everyone else in the room shared the feeling. It also made Elizabeth laugh while she looked around at everyone else and struggled to get the black puppy with the blue collar out of her lap at the same time. Her eyes met yours for a brief second, something that made you smile softly even if you could see the silent ask for help behind her green eyes.

“Is it obvious I’m not a dog person?” Elizabeth wondered out loud with another laugh. “The way you said that like ‘so are you an any kind of animal person?’” She said, trying to sound like the woman asking her the questions. “Are you a bunny person?” She joked in the end, which only made everyone laugh again.

The dog in her lap finally gave up trying to lick her face and ran away to play with his little friends, and you saw how Elizabeth visibly relaxed, having a small break from the cute attackers for once. You were still smiling at her, unable to believe how cute your girlfriend was, when you felt something touching your feet. You looked down and saw that one of the puppies had run into you while playing with a toy and you didn’t think twice before leaning down to pet the cute dog. That was the puppy that seemed the most excited about Elizabeth since the beginning, jumping into her as soon as they saw her, and you received the same treatment as her. That made you smile even more widely and your eyes raised for a moment to see how your girlfriend was holding up before grabbing the toy from the floor to toss it away for the dog to chase.

You could have tossed it to the other side, you could have. Instead, you tossed it right on Elizabeth’s feet and then watched the puppy skid with the little paws to reach the toy. Elizabeth was answering a question you hadn’t heard, her attention away from the dogs, so when the puppy jumped on her again she yelped even louder than before in surprise at the sudden attack.

“Oh, God!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold another laugh, but you saw someone giving you a thumbs up for helping in getting that scene. You weren’t sure if your girlfriend realized it had been you who threw the toy at her, although you were praying she didn’t.

“I don’t have a dog,” you heard Elizabeth commenting with an awkward laugh when another puppy tried to get into her lap. She tried to move the first one, but he wasn’t having it, so she reached out for the toy to squeeze it. It was, obviously, the wrong choice because that only made all of the puppies rush to her to try to take it. “Okay, okay, okay…” She repeated the same word countless times while trying to dodge all of the dogs jumping on her and, finally, she threw the toy away, which made all of the puppies run away to get it. “I don’t remember what was the question.”

“You were telling us what are your hobbies,” the interviewer reminded her.

“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth nodded and opened her mouth to reply, only to be jumped by the puppy with the red collar again. She tried to move out of the way, but that only made the dog fall with his paws almost inside of her shirt. “You like the inside of my shirt, I see. You would get along with my girlfriend just fine.”

The laugh that resonated around the room was the loudest it has been since the start of the interview and, even if you were one of the people laughing, you still tried to make yourself look smaller in your chair when everyone turned to look at you. You felt yourself blush and you met Elizabeth’s gaze again just to shake your head at her little joke, but she just laughed and then had to avoid another jumping puppy from hitting her face.

“Since you talked about her,” the interviewer started, “can you tell us about how things are going? You recently moved in together, yes?”

“We did,” your girlfriend replied with a more contained smile. Elizabeth didn’t have a problem talking about you during her interviews - she knew it was going to happen when you both decided to go public about your relationship - but she tried to avoid giving out many details and always tried to change the subject as fast as she could. “People always say we only know who someone really is when you have to share a house with them,” she joked. “But things are going great. Aside from the occasional wet towel on the bed, there hasn’t been any trouble.”

The interview continued after that with the same level of chaos. The dogs kept jumping on her or running around like crazy, there was a poop incident and even a moment where you were sure Elizabeth was regretting putting herself in that situation, but she managed to answer the questions and all the dogs - and Elizabeth - were alive in the end, which you counted as a victory.

Once the questions were over, someone asked Elizabeth to stay in her spot for just a few more minutes while they collected the dogs to take them away again. You had gotten up from your chair since you felt like you needed to stretch a little bit and you were about to pull out your phone to check the time when you saw three of the puppies running towards you while fighting over a toy. Without thinking twice, you sat down on the floor and quickly reached for the toy.

“Hey, now, don’t fight!” You said. They all started to jump to try to get it from you and you felt your legs and arms being scratched with their little sharp nails, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t their fault and, honestly, you were almost used to that. “Play nice, kiddos,” you asked before throwing the toy away.

To your surprise, not all the puppies rushed to get it. The black puppy with the red collar, that had been among them, decided he wanted to climb your lap instead and that’s what the dog did with his wobbly legs and waggling tail. You laughed happily as you decided to help him by picking him up and pressing him against your chest while you brought your other hand to scratch behind his ear.

“You’re so cute,” you cooed before pressing a kiss on top of his head. In return, the puppy raised his head to lick your chin and you let him do it. “Do you like me? I also like you, boy.” As soon as you said that, though, you paused and picked him up with both hands so you could hold him in front of your face. “Wait, are you a boy?” You turned him a bit to take a look and gasped when you put the dog back against your chest. “You’re a girl! No wonder you were trying to look at Lizzie’s chest!” You declared while trying not to squeeze the dog too much. “I don’t blame you at all for that!”

No one would be able to tell if you were joking or not since you were being so serious while saying that, but thankfully everyone was too busy trying to pick up the running dogs or putting the equipment away before the wires got chewed or something. You didn’t move from where you were sitting playing with the cute puppy and letting her lick your hands and face while all the other dogs were picked one by one to be taken away. You could already feel your chest tighten with the prospect of letting the black puppy go as well, even if it sounded crazy that you had gotten attached to her so fast.

Since you were too busy cuddling the dog, you missed when Elizabeth got up and walked towards you, getting startled when her voice sounded just by your side. “Why is he so calm with you when he was trying to murder me a second ago?”

You looked up and your lips quickly curled in a smile when you saw Elizabeth standing there with her hands on her hips while trying to pretend to be mad. “She wasn’t trying to kill you, babe,” you defended the dog. “She was trying to show you love!”

“That’s some aggressive love,” Elizabeth scoffed.

You laughed. “Yes, because she’s a puppy. She has too much energy. They get calmer when they get older.” Just as you said that, you raised the dog to your eye level again and kissed its snout. “Right, little princess? With a few walks and a lot of plays, you will grow up to be a lazy dog.”

As if she could understand you, the dog barked and tried to lick you again. You cooed and hugged her, but, before you could say anything else, a man approached you while chasing another puppy. You decided to help him out by reaching out with your arm to stop the puppy from running past you, but you still didn’t let go of the dog in your lap.

“Thank you,” the man said as he leaned down to scoop the dog.

“Of course,” you replied before you saw another person bringing a cage. “Where are these cuties from?” You wondered when curiosity got the best of you.

“From a shelter, ma’am,” the first man answered.

“Oh, so they don’t have a family?”

“No, ma’am. Their first event will be this weekend. The shelter organizes a fair to try to find their animals some owners.”

You made up your mind before the man was even done talking. You knew it was insane to even think about it, but you couldn’t help. The puppy in your arms had already won your heart, you couldn’t deny it. Besides, you have been working from home since you got a new job and you certainly had the money to take care of a pet. It could work out perfectly.

Elizabeth seemed like she had read your mind because, when you slowly turned your head to look back at her, she was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Lizzie,” you tried to call out her nickname to soften her heart - exactly how you did it every time you were trying to get her to agree with something.

“No, Y/N.” Elizabeth kept her ground, firmly letting you know it was not going to happen. “We’re not taking a dog home with us.”

“But it’s not just a dog,” you complained while raising the puppy for her to see the cute little face. “It’s this little princess.”

“No,” she insisted. “No dogs. No little princess who tried to kill me either.”

“She didn’t try to kill you, I told you that,” you argued and then, because you could feel you were going to lose the argument, you went for your last weapon. A pout. “I promise you I will take care of her, you don’t even have to do anything! I will keep her fed and change the water, and take her for walks, and take her to the vet, all of it.”

“That’s not the problem, Y/N.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m thinking about all of the mess. And the smell.” She added the last part while throwing a glance at the place where the puppies had pooped before, her nose scrunching adorably when she remembered the awful smell. “Look, I know you like animals, but we’re not getting a dog.”

“Lizzie,” you tried one more time, putting the dog down and pouting as well. It was now or never. “Pretty please? She won’t even get that big and we have so much space around the pool where she could run and play. We don’t need to let her go inside the house even.” Which you know was a little lie since you wouldn’t be able to keep the dog outside, but that was a problem you could solve later. “And I know you like animals, you just don’t… have much practice.”

“And I intend to keep that way.”

You sighed sadly at that and looked down at the dog who had gone oddly quiet during all of that conversation, as if she knew she shouldn’t interrupt. With a sniff, you leaned down to kiss the dog’s head before you let your cheek rest there. It was like saying goodbye to someone from your family.

“Oh, no, are you crying?” Elizabeth now sounded completely in panic, but you had your own emotions to deal with. You just shook your head, clearly lying since you could barely see anything after tears formed in your eyes, but you also didn’t want to seem stupid crying over it either. “No, my love, please don’t cry.” Elizabeth crouched in front of you and you briefly saw her wide green eyes staring at you like she had no idea what to do. “You can get a fish! What about that?”

“Okay,” you mumbled with a trembling voice without looking at her. You didn’t want a fish, although you couldn’t get enough energy to explain that to her. Besides, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow you to form a phrase anyway.

“My love, please don’t be upset,” your girlfriend tried again, sadly this time. “I don’t like when you’re upset.” All you did was shrug. “I love you so much, my love, but-”

Before she could finish her explanation, the dog in your lap wailed so miserably that it made you hug her tighter and look at Elizabeth again.

Ironically, that’s what broke her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and pinched her nose for a few seconds before she shook her head to herself. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she whispered while staring at the ceiling above you and then she finally let out a sigh and looked at you. “Okay, fine, you can have the dog.”

“Oh, my God! Really?!” You didn’t wait for her confirmation. You just threw yourself at her, almost taking both of you to the ground, and started spreading kisses all over her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” you kept repeating it non-stop.

“Okay, okay.” She pushed you away when it became clear you wouldn’t stop anytime soon, just to raise her index finger while she started listing some rules that you both knew would eventually be broken. “The dog must stay outside, you will take full responsibility for it, you will have to figure out what to do when we decide to travel together, and the dog is gone if she ever causes a single leaf from my garden to break.” Then, Elizabeth turned her attention to the dog, pointing at the puppy and raising her eyebrows. “And I mean it.”

“Did you hear that, pup?” You asked the dog while pointedly ignoring what Elizabeth said. “You’re going home with us!”

The dog picked up on your happiness and started to jump in your arms while trying to lick both of you, but Elizabeth quickly moved away and got up. “God, it has been a second and I’m already regretting it.” Just when you were about to get worried she might change her mind, Elizabeth added: “Wait here, I will see what we need to do to take the dog home.”

“Wait, Lizzie,” you called her before she could take another step away and she turned around at you in expectation. “Come here.” She rolled her eyes, but did as you asked. “Closer.” Again. “Closer.”

“Only if I climb in your lap, but my seat has been taken.” Elizabeth glared at the dog, but you could see she didn’t mean anything by it.

You chuckled and raised your chin. Once again, your girlfriend rolled her eyes although she leaned down to give you a kiss. “I love you,” you whispered when she pulled away.

“You better,” Elizabeth replied with a huff.

“Really, I love you so much.” You pecked her lips one more time.

She sighed and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, my love.”

Elizabeth had just started to leave again when you asked: “Can we call her Wanda?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” was the reply you got even if she didn’t even turn around to say it.

You only laughed and hugged the puppy again. You could convince her about the name too.

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, here's part 5 of 'Just Tired'. I have to say that I was very happy and surprised that someone asked me when this was coming out and it made my entire week so I want to thank whoever sent that! I just have to that in this part, shit gets real. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I seem to have reached my limit of amount of links I can add to a post so I'm splitting up my Melissa fics. I'm splitting up the one shots and the series fics.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Just Tired - Part 5

Warnings: Manipulative relationship, swearing, two small masturbation parts

Words: 2.6k

You look down between your legs and see a mess of red hair as she eats you out. You feel all the sensations she’s giving you and you can’t help but moan out her name.

“Melissa, right there.” You say breathlessly and she looks up at you and you both lock eyes. You feel as you get closer and closer to an orgasm, you’re right at the edge. Melissa goes to do one more suck on your clit and then your eyes snap open. 

You look around, breathing hard and realise that you’re in your room. Once you regain your senses you notice that it was your alarm that awoke you from your very pleasant sex dream of you and Melissa. You honestly didn’t know that you’d be having sex dreams about her but she’s just that captivating to you, who knew you’d like stubborn fiery women but it honestly doesn’t surprise you. You shut off your alarm and then you feel wetness between your legs and sigh. You get up and hop in the shower. You bring back memories of the dream and give yourself an orgasm in the shower.

“Second orgasm I’ve had to give myself because of this woman.” You mutter to yourself as you try to control your breathing. You then quickly get ready, grab your things as well as your helmet and head out the door.

Melissa is lying awake in bed, she didn’t get much sleep last night as she realises that she might be developing a crush on you. She hears her alarm go off and she quickly goes to turn it off and then goes back to staring at her ceiling for a couple minutes. She then gets up and goes in the shower. She lets the hot water pour over her and she takes a few deep breaths. Even though she might be developing a crush, she can never act on it as she’s married to Joe, even if she’s slightly tempted to act on it.

She then starts trailing her hand down in between her legs and finds her clit. She starts circling it and she lets out a moan at it feeling so good, better than if Joe was doing it. Melissa closes her eyes and feels how good it feels, how she feels her orgasm building quickly. She leans on the shower wall and keeps feeling the pleasure build until she’s right at her peak. Suddenly you flash in her mind and then her orgasm rushes through her. She takes a few seconds to catch her breath and then she realises what happened and she covers her mouth.

“No no no. I can’t have feelings for someone else.” She mutters and grabs her hair. Then a few tears stream down her face and she covers her eyes with her hands as she cries for a good minute “It’s just all the compliments, it’s just nice to hear them, that’s all. I love Joe and I’m his wife, and that’s the way it is.” She mutters and then a thought comes to her. “The damn bastard who hasn’t given me a compliment since I married him.” She says and throws the bar of soap at the wall out of anger. “If you won’t give them to me then I’ll get them somewhere else.” She says as she calms down. She then finishes her shower, gets ready and gathers her things before she hears a knock at the door.

“Hey Mel-” You start to say before you see her outfit. She’s wearing her iconic black leather pants and a green shirt that may be too inappropriate for school.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melissa says with a smirk. 

“Don’t you think that shirt might be too low for school?” You ask her and she shrugs.

“I’ve worn it to school before.” She tells you and then she winks at you before she walks to her car. “Come on, let’s go.” She says and gets in her car.

“It might be too low for school but it looks really good on you.” You tell her after getting in and she smiles at you. 

“Thanks hon.” She says and then drives you both to work. “So what have you got planned with your kiddos today?” She asks as starts driving to school.

“Oh so much fun. They’re gonna do a family portrait, whatever that looks like to them and they’re gonna present it to the class.” You say excitedly.

“That does sound like fun, and what would your family portrait look like?” She asks and you look at her.

“Oh, I’m not doing it, I’m not a great artist.” You tell her and she can tell there’s something more.

“Not all the kids are either but they’ll still have fun doing it, so can you.” She says and you look down and Melissa glances at you. “You don’t have to tell me about your family but if you want then I’m all ears and maybe I’ll even throw in one question that I’ll have to answer.” She says and you look at her.

“What question?”

“Whatever question you want to ask me.” She says and you look at her.

“You said maybe, so that’s not a certainty.” You say and cross your arms.

“Alright, you can ask one question that I have to answer if you tell me about your family.” She tells you and you think about it.

“Ok deal.” You say and hold your hand out. She quickly shakes it when it’s safe to do so. “My family wasn’t great.” You start with. “They’re religious and they didn’t support me when I came out. They tried to get me to be straight, to be normal, but I kept fighting with them everytime. The day I turned 18 I moved in with a friend and went to school to be a teacher. I was able to make enough money to move here with that roommate and I never heard from my parents after I left them.” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow.

“And after all that you’re still…sane?” She asks and you chuckle.

“I’m able to be myself, that’s what keeps me sane. If I’m not able to be myself then what’s the point of being me?” You say and Melissa looks everywhere but at you for a good 30 seconds as she thinks about what you just said. 

“That’s a good point.” She finally says and you hum.

“Ok, now I get to ask my question and I know exactly what I want to ask.” You say and turn to her. “You might not like it though.” You add and she gives you a weird look.

“Alright, what is it?”

“You said you married Joe because you love him, but why are you still married to him when he doesn’t treat you as he should?” You ask her and she furrows her eyebrows and her jaw drops.

“What?” She asks.

“Do you really not see it?” You ask her and she stops at a red light and looks at you. 

“See what?”

“Out of everything you’ve told me and what I saw on Saturday, he’s not nice to you.” You tell her bluntly and she looks away as the light turns green.

“You’re wrong, he loves me.” She says and she gulps.

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” You ask, really pushing it as she turns into the parking lot of the school.

“What are you really asking me?” She tells you angrily.

“Why are you married to someone who doesn’t treat you like a queen?” You ask plainly and her eyes widen in shock. “You’ve told me he doesn’t touch you, apologise when he should, or even compliment you.” You add and you see her continue to just stare at you in shock. “You never told me he doesn’t compliment you but with the way you take compliments when I give them, I figured that part out myself.” 

“I don’t need all that stuff to have a happy marriage.” She simply says and then gets out of the car and you follow her.

“Melissa, I might be overstepping… a lot, but what I saw on saturday, it looks like…well, like manipulation.” You say to her face and she looks in your eyes and sees no lies.

“What? I’m not being manipulated.” She says and looks taken back.

“That friend I mentioned who I moved in with when I turned 18, she was in a manipulative relationship without knowing it but another friend of hers found out and helped her and she told me all about it.” You say and she sighs. “It’s easy not to see it because manipulators are good at making the victim think they’re in a loving relationship.” You tell her and she walks away from you and into the school.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day.” She tells you as you catch up with her. “Got it?” She asks and points a finger at your chest.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but I’m worried about you.” You tell her.

“Worrying about me and having some sort of crush on me are two very different things.” She tells you and continues walking to the break room.

“What makes you think I have a crush on you?” You ask her and she looks at you, rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“You’re very obvious, kid.” She says and then enters the break room.

Everyone else is able to sense some sort of tension between you and Melissa as soon as you both enter but everyone is smart enough not to bring it up, due to two of them fearing Melissa and the other one thinks it’s too early to be solving anything right now. Barb ends up stopping you in the hallway after you bring your kids to the caf and she drags you to her classroom.

“Barbra, what is it?” You ask her as soon as she closes her door.

“What is going on between you and Melissa?” She says, straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You tell her and she gives you a look that says ‘really?’ “Ok, I may have said some things to her on the way to school that maybe I shouldn’t have.” You say and don’t look her in the eye the entire time.

“What did you say to her?”

“May have mentioned she might be in a…manipulative relationship.” You tell her and look down. “I saw her and Joe on Saturday and it was so clear that she’s in one.” You defend yourself and you hear Barb sigh.

“She is in one.” She confirms and you look at her.

“What?”

“I’ve known her since the very start of her marriage with him.” She says and sits in her chair. “I tried to get her to see it but she’s stubborn and she kept defending him.” She tells you.

“How do we help someone who’s in one, especially when they don’t know it?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“From what I read, drop hints and hope they’ll figure it out.”

“I just dropped the biggest hint of all by telling her plainly and she still can’t see it.”

“Give her time, Melissa is smart but incredibly stubborn and I know it’ll be on her mind. You planted a seed in her mind.” She says.

“I planted a seed but she doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“People in these relationships get defensive as they don’t want to see the truth. She’ll forgive you one day.” She tells you and you sigh. You then get up and open the door and see Melissa there about to knock.

“Melissa!” You say in shock and her jaw drops and just stares at you. Barb looks at the door and sees the two of you just staring at each other for a few seconds.

“I came to see Barb.” Melissa tells you softly and you nod before you walk around her and go to the break room.

“I guess it’s advice day today.” Barb mutters as Melissa watches you walk away. “What is it, Melissa?” She asks her and Melissa snaps out of her trance and goes into Barb’s classroom.

“I saw you weren’t in the break room so I brought your lunch and I want to talk to you anyway.” Melissa tells her and hands Barb her lunch. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Y/n said the craziest thing to me this morning. She said I was in a manipulative relationship with Joe.” Melissa says and scoffs before looking at Barb.

“And what’s the issue?”

“Well it’s crazy, I think I would know if I was being manipulated, much less my husband.” Melissa says and paces around the room.

“Do you even know the signs of manipulation?”

“No, what for?”

“How would you know you were being manipulated if you don’t know the signs?” Barb asks her and Melissa freezes.

“Hang on, it sounds as if you’re on Y/n’s side in this.” Melissa tells her.

“Melissa, there’s no sides here, we’re just looking out for you to make sure you’re happy.” Barb tells her carefully.

“Well I am happy so there’s no need to look out for me, unless you're so unhappy in your marriage and you’re looking to take down a happy marriage to make yourself feel better.” Melissa snaps and then storms out while cursing in italian. 

Melissa ends up not speaking to anyone for the rest of the day and blatantly ignores you while she drives you to her place. Whenever you try to talk, she turns up the music and sings, you just gave up after a few attempts and looked out the window.

“Get your damn bike and you can bring yourself to work tomorrow.” She tells you while not looking at you and then enters her house while slamming the door.

You let out a sigh before you go get your bike from the backyard. You roll it out, put on your helmet and then ride home. Melissa watches you from the window as you take off on your bike and she lets out a breath before she throws her sunglasses across the room in anger.

“For fuck sake!” She yells out before she just collapses on the couch. She was starting to open herself out to someone and they’re just trying to tell her what to do. She then thinks that you never told her to do anything, simply stating a worry, Barb too. Why would they both be worried she’s in a manipulative relationship when she’s not? Then she remembers what Barb says about signs and she gets her phone out. She then googles what the signs are in a manipulative relationship. “This will definitely prove I’m not in one and it’ll show them.” Melissa mutters as she clicks on a site and reads them out loud. “Gaslighting, passive aggression, silent treatment, love bombing, guilt tripping, isolation, threats, with…withholding affection, triggering insecurities, confusion, lying and blaming, blame shifting, frequent apologies to the manipulator.” She reads outloud and then she looks into each of them. 20 minutes later she looks up from her phone with a few tears running down her cheeks. She then stand up, grabs a pillow and begins to hit the couch with it over and over again. “SON A FUCKING BITCH!”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

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Meeting Mick

In the centre of London, a 22-year-old junior office clerk named Gareth found himself trawling through his email inbox once again. For such a young lad, he was already fatigued with the tediousness of routine.

He had been conventional all his life, descending from a lineage of monotony. His father was an accountant who was coming up to retirement - a greyish man who wore greyish suits, his grandfather had been an accountant and he was pretty sure his great grandfather had also been in the profession. “It’s in our DNA, numbers run in our blood,” the words of his dad would echo around his head.

As a teenager, Gareth tried to rebel, well he put a bit of effort in to trying to rebel. First of all he let his hair grow, then he got a number 2 at the barbers. He bought a pair of DMs with some of his savings but never wore them for fear of what his mother and father might say. Once he came home ten minutes late for dinner, which was enough for his father to take him on one side and lecture him on the importance of timekeeping.

Anyway, let's get back to the present. Gareth got home early evening after another dull day in the office. He prepared a nice healthy meal of grilled salmon and steamed vegetables. After washing up, he decided to check his social media feeds, not that he was a prolific user of social networks, but at least they were a doorway to 'other worlds' that offered some escape.

As he was scrolling through Tumblr one profile in particular caught his attention. The profile belonged to someone calling himself 'Mick', an older man who proudly identified as a Skinhead Boss.

Gareth just stared at the profile picture; he studied it from top to bottom; his overarching thought was that this was an older guy who didn't give a f**k. He lost himself staring at the shiny black boots, which contrasted with the white laces and the arms covered in tattoos. Gareth then clicked on the profile and immediately pressed the 'follow' button.

He scrolled through Mick's blog and found himself getting more and more aroused at the pictures, which included from videos of lads getting their heads shaved, pictures of skinheads in full skinhead gear, groups of skinheads drinking and even photos of skins getting pierced and tattooed. The posts included many skinhead transformation stories as well as a few articles about skinhead culture, which Gareth read with interest.

Gareth really wanted to message Mick, and he pointed the cursor but kept hesitating because, to be honest, he felt a bit stupid. The voices in his head told him not to bother, Mick is a hard, tattooed skinhead and why would he want to chat with someone as boring and vanilla as you, Gareth?

After deliberating for many minutes whilst continuing to look over Mick's blog, he managed to silence the voices momentarily finding the resolve to send a message. He clicked on the icon and noticed the green dot, so Mick was probably online. After a lot of thought he decided to keep the first message short, "hey there, love the blog, love the gear," and pressed the send icon. No, he thought in a moment of regret and as the voices reasserted themselves, why did I type that? After a few minutes, and much to Gareth's surprise, the number 1 appeared on the messages side-menu. Expecting a "get lost" or "Eff off back to your boring, mundane life," he clicked to see what the reply was.

“Oi oi m8 thx. I didn’t think I’d be your type. Just seen your profile pic you look like just a conventional clean-cut lad." Reading this, Gareth was rock hard. He’d never spoken to a skinhead before and the thought of chatting with one was already driving him crazy. He thought very carefully about what to type next. “Ha ha, well yes, but skinheads - they're something else,” and he pressed send. Mick replied straight away “Thanks. I know you’d look good with your head shaved, wearing a nice tight pair of bleachers and all booted up lad.”

Gareth had often wondered what his life would be like if he had taken a different path maybe as a tradesman or a workie, even a punk or skinhead but it would never work, plus what would his parents and friends say. He quickly typed a reply, “Ah, I’d love to but I don’t think I could - I’d be a terrible skinhead,” and clicked on the send icon.

Gareth was starting to feel stupid again for initiating the conversation with Mick - but before he cold wallow in his foolishness he received another message, which had a much firmer tone to it “Listen lad, you WILL make a perfect skinhead. I CAN make it happen m8. I'll be in the White Hart pub on Grange Road at tonight 8 - be on time. If not, we won't chat again. It's a one time offer."

Having read the message, Gareth noticed the green light disappear - Mick must have signed out.

Gareth didn’t know what to do. This skinhead he’d spoken to for all of five minutes was willing to take him 'under his wing' and make all his dreams come true. Was this a set-up? Was it all one big joke? Was he being foolish turning up in a pub some stranger had mentioned

In that moment Gareth was 'paralysed' Should he carry on as Mr Conventional or take this opportunity to escape the monotony and drudgery of routine? Well there was only one way to find out.

After nearly an hour of procrastination he decided it was worth the risk and he would go and meet Mick. After all nothing was going to happen in pub full of customers? With a mix of excitement and apprehension, Gareth put on a pair of jeans, a plan blue t-shirt and a his coat. He opened Google Maps and searched for The White Hart and followed the directions.

After a twenty minute bus ride and ten minute walk he arrived at The White Hart. He paused for a moment. This looked like any other pub he'd seen in the city. Was he really going to enter a pub frequented by skinheads? Was he about to meet the man he'd been messaging on Tumblr? He was about to discover that this pub, adorned with memorabilia reflecting the skinhead subculture, would become the backdrop for his transformation.

He walked through the double doors and entered the tap room. He was immediately met by the sight of three skinheads standing at the bar. He checked them out; they all had shaved heads, some dressed in green or black bomber jackets, some just in t-shirts or Fred Perry polos and wearing skinhead boots; some black some red/brown.

Standing for a moment, just inside the doors (close enough to make a quick retreat should it be necessary), he took in the atmosphere. He looked around the room, trying not to catch anyone's attention. However, a few of the skins had noticed the new lad enter. Gareth was aware of several faces looking in his director, some seeming to sneer at him in contempt. He imagined they were thinking "what are you doing in our place?" After all he was a normal looking, average 22 year old in the middle of a pub occupied by tattooed, pierced, and booted skinheads.

Gareth got a sense that tension was building, but at the same time he was very aroused. He'd never been so close to one skinhead, let alone a pub full of pretty hot looking skins. He glanced at his watch - it was almost 8 o'clock - so finding Mick was his priority.

Gareth was feeling intimidated by the many eyes focussed on him. Believing Mick would be somewhere in the pub meant he was able to dig deep and find the courage not to run out through the door through which he entered. As he walked around, he noticed a skinhead standing at the bar smoking a cigarette. He always thought that smoking was banned indoors - and that included pubs - but this skinhead didn't seem to care. "You look out of place my lad - don't think you want to be in here!" he said taking the cig out of his mouth.

"Well, erm, I, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here." Gareth stuttered a reply taking in the sight in front of him.

"Oh, is that so?" The skinhead started to smile. "And who is this person you're supposed to be meeting or do you just like being in a room filled with skinheads?"

Gareth was getting even more aroused. "No, erm Mick," he initially replied meekly, then getting his confidence back, "he's called Mick".

Suddenly Gareth heard a booming voice to his right, which he knew was aimed at him. “Boy, I've been waiting."

Gareth headed over to where the voice originated, very aware that the skinhead he'd just been talking to was still staring at him as he walked away.

"Good job you turned up lad." Gareth was mesmerised at seeing Mick in person - as if in a trance, he walked towards the man that would permanently change his life. With each step forward, he took in Mick's weathered face, shaved head, tattooed arms and, holding a metal baseball bat in his left hand. "Boy, I thought you might chicken out." Finally standing next to Mick, he laughed nervously; he actually was scared-stiff but at the same time he was so turned on by this older skinhead. “You wanna be a proper skinhead - just like ALL the lads around you, don’t you?"

Gareth turned around and looked around the pub - no one was staring at him now. Everywhere he turned he saw skinheads laughing, chatting, getting the beers in and even playing pool - it was the camaraderie that caught his attention.

All his life he'd been a 'lost sheep'; he'd been desperate for the kind of kinship he was witnessing. Yes this is what he wanted, and he would do whatever it takes to be accepted. He turned back to Mick, and more certain than he'd been about anything in his life, "Yes, YES, I want to be a skinhead."

"Good lad," Mick cracked a smile for the first time since they'd met in person. "I can make it come true boy. First, I should warn you that once you say yes, there’s no going back. So, you're absolutely sure about this?”

Gareth had never been more certain in his life, oh and had never felt like this before (not to mention the forming bulge that was hard to miss). “Yes, I really want this”.

Mick was relieved, he made it a mission to bring new lads into the skinhead world “good choice, I’ll make a proper skinhead out of you boy. When I'm done with you, you'll be a proud skinhead, following the skinhead code.” Gareth nearly erupted in his trousers, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Right seat yourself down, I'll get the beers in an we'll talk about your skinhead transformation.

In a matter of minutes, Mick returned accompanied by two other skinheads who sat down alongside Gareth. "This is Charlie and this is his boi Chris. Chris once had a boring life - he was a going to be a lawyer but he hated his life. He met first Charlie on Grindr and now they're inseparable; Chris now works for the council in the cleansing department. Lads, this is Gareth," he said, nodding in Gareth's direction."

Gareth nervously picked up his glass that had been put in front of him and took a big gulp of the beer. One gulp turned into two, three, four and in no time, he'd almost finished his pint. In doing so he'd plucked up the courage to initiate a conversation about what life would be like as a skinhead.

Mick was about to start waxing lyrical about his life when Charlie jumped in, having just finished his pint, "tell the lad how long you've been a skinhead Mick," turning to Gareth, "Mick also knows what it means to be a skin and how we watch out for one another. C'mon Chris let's get the next round in."

As they chatted over three more pints Mick regaled his life experiences and the subculture he had embraced since he started secondary school. He shared stories of camaraderie, rebellion, and talked affectionately about the unique sense of identity that exists within the skinhead community. Despite the age gap, a connection had formed between the two. Mick decided it was time to begin Gareth's transformation. "Right lad, follow me."

Mick put on what Gareth would learn is his black Harrington, he picked up his baseball bat and headed through a set of double doors. Gareth followed a few paces behind Mick heading down a short dimly lit corridor.

They walked through the door and entered a room with black and white tiles on the floor, three sides of the room had walls covered in pictures of skinheads, the other wall was simply a floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of the room was a barber's chair.

"Right lad, take your top off"

Without a second thought Gareth complied. "Get in the chair." It was an order, not a request, which had to be obeyed. Gareth was about to take the first step and most symbolic stage his transformation to a skinhead.

Sitting in the old barber's chair, Gaz could only watch as Mick walked over to the shelf and picked up a set of clippers. Mick removed the guard that was covering the cutting end and turned to Gareth, ""this is it lad; in a few minutes Gareth will be gone. I'm going to transform you into Gaz - my Skinhead boi."

With that Mick pressed the on button on the side of the clippers; immediately he heard the familiar 'clack' sound echo around the room. Mick pressed the clippers into the nape and worked his way up the lad's head. With a deliberate slowness, Gareth's hair was stripped away. With each stroke, inches of hair fell on his chest and on the floor around the chair until it was all gone.

Gareth was more turned on than he'd been; at any time in his life. Nothing he'd done in his 22 years to date had resulted in the mild sweating, butterflies and raised heart-rate that he was experiencing as he stared into the mirror watching this tattooed thug denuding his head.

Mick could tell Gaz was enjoying the experience as he heard a little pleasure moan escape from his mouth. He ran the clippers over Gaz's head at least three times, ensuring there was only stubble left. Mick noticed Gaz staring in the mirror - it wasn't all he noticed. "Like what you see boi?"

Gareth simply nodded - his brain simply couldn't process the combination of his feelings and the sight of his shaved head in the mirror. He was about to touch his head when Mick interrupted, "No you don't boi. I'll tell you when you can touch your head."

Mick then walked over to the sink and turned on the hot tap. When the water was steaming hot, he grabbed a towel and wet it thoroughly. He squeezed the towel removing the excess water and placed the very towel on Gaz's head; leaving it for a few minutes.

This gave him time to grab a can of shaving foam. He completely covered his boi's head in foam. He grabbed a new Mach III razor and started the next stage of the transformation. It took a few minutes to shave away the stubble from his boi's head and make him as smooth and shiny as a baby.

Gaz sat there frozen in disbelief as each stroke of the razor revealed another patch of scalp completely void of hair. As Mick finished up, he produced a handheld mirror to show the back and sides: “what do you think boi?”

Gaz didn’t recognise the person staring back at him - he was starting to look like a dumb thug who’d grown up on a council estate and spent years getting in trouble with the law. Not some twenty-something who had grown up the perfect, but very boring, nuclear family. “Yeah, this is perfect, just how I wanted to look”.

"It's only the beginning of your transformation lad. Now we need to get you dressed. Stay there." Mick ordered and walked over to a cupboard ar the back of the room.

Gaz didn't want to move. He was transfixed by the skinhead he saw in the mirror - so much so that he didn't hear Mick calling to him.

"Get over here boi!"

Gaz came back to reality and jumped out of the chair. He walked over to where Mick was standing. It was a cupboard full of boots, jeans with bleach splashes, t-shirts, polo shirts and bomber jackets.

For the second time in as many hours, Gaz was enthralled by the content in the cupboard - as he stared at the many pairs boots on the shelf he was almost drooling. "Right lad," Mick said jerking Gaz out of his boot gazing, "we can get you started with what's in here. You'll need to get more in time but that can wait till you start yer new job."

With that Mick began to outfit his boi in classic skinhead attire. He started by handing Gaz a t-shirt wich the boy slipped over his head, then came a pair of very tight fitting jeans with bleach splashes - bleachers as they are generally known. As he put them on he could sense blood rushing towards his groin area. Seeing this Mick smiled; Gaz smiled back sensing he was blushing. As he finished buttoning his bleachers, he saw the jeans had been cut off just below the knee - he would soon find out why. Next, Gaz was handed a pair of white(ish) football socks. "Get them on your feet."

As Gaz was putting his socks, he looked up when another skinhead entered the room. He was a bit younger than Mick but older than Gaz; his arms covered in tattoos and a huge ring in his nose and both ears pierced, "is he ready Mick?"

"Not quite Al, he's got his boots to put on an lace properly." He turned to Gaz, "for now you need to pull your socks over your knees." When Gaz had done as instructed, Mick put a pair of black 20 hole boots with white laces in front of him. He sat down and began talking him through tightly ladder-lacing his boots, first the right foot then the left.

In no time at all Gaz had ladder-laced his boots.

"Stand up lad - look in the mirror!" Mick instructed, "how does that feel?" He didn't need to ask - the lump in the boi's bleachers was there for all to see.

"i...," Gaz was stuck for words. After a few moments he spurted, "I can't believe what I'm looking at," as Gaz found himself feeling a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.

Mick was pleased with the transformation so far. He offered Gaz a cigarette. “Sorry, I don’t smoke”. Mick threw Gaz against the wall “lesson one, you don’t get the choose what you do and don’t do anymore. Skinheads smoke and now you're a skinhead so that means you're a smoker too. I want you to smoke a pack a day boi”.

For the first time since he walked into the pub Gaz was intimidated - especially knowing there was another skinhead in the room watching. Gaz gingerly took the smoke from Mick and lit up. It tasted awful and he was trying his best not to cough after every inhale.

“You’ll get use to it boi. Give it a few weeks you won’t be able to get out of bed without sparking up” Mick laughed. This is Al by the way. He's a tattooist - he's going to make your transformation more permanent.

"Right Al, he's ready for the next stage."

Al smiled, "come slong me boi."

Gaz followed Mick and Al out of the room, and out of a side door in the pub. Even though he'd worn his Doc Martens on a number of occasions, walking in 20-hole boots felt so different. To start with the leather was new and the soles of were solid and heavy. Mick and Al were heading off and Gaz had trouble keeping up. Eventually the two older skinheads arrived at a tattoo studio, with Gaz arriving a few seconds later.

"Right here we are. It's time to finish the job. Al's gonna give you your ink and we'll get some metal into you too,"

"Yes boi," interjected Al, "in the chair, take your shirt off and we can get started."

Gaz took off his shirt and sat in the chair.

"I think you should light up boi," Mick instructed, holding out a pack of cigs. Gaz took one and lit up. Even though it was only his second cigarette, he was doing better at not coughing every time he inhale.

"Right Mick, so just as we talked about earlier?" Al asked.

"Yes, just the ones he can't hide - the ones on his knuckles, hands, neck for today, then over the next few visits he can get his sleeves done and then you can work on his back.

Gaz's heartbeat was rising rapidly as he was listening to what was about to happen. The transformation so-far was reversible, but the moment the tattooing started there would be no turning back. Then all of a sudden he felt a wave of calm as he realised he wasn't forcibly being transformed. His lifetime wish was become a reality and Mick and Al were facilitating his deep desires.

Al set up his equipment and began. As the needle buzzed, skinhead symbols etched themselves onto Gaz's skin – a commitment to a lifestyle that was rapidly becoming his own. The letters S-K-I-N and H-E-A-D were tattooed onto his knuckles. Next, a swallow was tattooed on the back of his left hand, followed by his right hand. Then Al began the more painful and time consuming work of tattooing a spiderweb onto the left side of Gaz's neck and a pair of red DMs on the right hand side. Both would be positioned too high for Gaz to cover them up - even if that's what he wanted to do - and he didn't, ever!

Piercings followed suit, adding a further edge to Gaz's appearance. His ears were adorned with small gold hoops, then his nipples were pierced - wincing at the pain as the needle went through the sensitive skin.

"One more for today boi and then we are done. If you thought your nipple piercings hurt, then you'll really feel it when we get your septum done."

Mick wasn't wrong. However, compared to the continuous, vibrating pain of being tattooed, Gaz would describe the septum piercing as a quick, sharp pain. In no time at all he had a 14 gauge septum piercing with a gold ring though it.

"Your nose is going to be tender to touch and will probably take a couple of week to heal." Al told Gaz. We'll look at changing to a slightly bigger ring as Mick wants in a couple of months, that's provided it has healed well."

Mick walked over to Gaz and grabbed him roughly. Mick pressed his body up against Gaz and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he thrust his tongue harshly into Gaz's mouth. Gaz had never kissed a man before, in fact he hadn't kissed many girls before. So he just let Mick take charge. Gaz found he loved the smokey taste of Mick's mouth too - imagining that his would taste the same as he become a 20-a-day smoker.

In that single moment Gaz felt a sense of liberation that transcended his previous life. There would be no return for once ordinary office worker. Instead, with Mick's guidance, Gaz secured his first manual job. Being a workie on a building site was a fitting occupation for his newfound identity.

In the end, Gareth's (now Gaz's) transformation went beyond skin-deep. He found a sense of purpose and community that resonated with him on a profound level. Mick, the seasoned skinhead mentor, had unwittingly become Gaz's Alpha guiding the 22 year old through a journey of self-discovery that led him to embrace a life that, just weeks before, had been unimaginable.