#idk how to do it but i can sure as hell tell a story at least

[shewaslikeasunflower]

story summary of lovebound au atm: Ninten & Giegue are together in Sunshine Forest, surviving and hiding from other people. Tonight, they decide to head out to see what’s around on Nowhere Islands.

Time ticked by as the two explored Tazmily Village, walking through all of the paths they discovered. Before they even realized it, it was already nearly sunrise.

•“Ninten, let us return to the forest before they are awoken from slumber.”

•“No need to talk all fancy...”

Hurriedly, they head back through Forest Grotto, with twigs and bark snapping under them as they sprinted into Sunshine Forest. Dawn was already leaving them by now; they were running out of time.

They kept going until they hear something from behind them.

“What is that thing with you..? W-Who even are you? You're not from Tazmily…”

They turn their heads to see a pretrified young boy, holding a few chopped wood clutched in his hands, looking up at the treacherous creature by Ninten’s side. Without warning, Giegue fully takes over him without second thought, and he tackles the earthling he sees before him - immediately aiming to get rid of the eye witness. They fight, the boy kicking desperately as his claws reach for him. He manages to pin him down, and gets ready to use a PSI move, and..

Pain courses through Ninten’s body from the hard smash from behind his head, yet he can’t feel it, as he quickly falls to the ground. Giegue stays a part of him as his body goes unconscious, forced to stay conscious inside his head for him as he’s passed out to make sure he's okay. He was reckless. And he hurt Ninten again.

A few hours later, Giegue flutters his eyes open. His eyes immediately glare up to the earthlings standing before him in the enclosed space he’s trapped in.

•“Will he be okay..?”

•“Who knows, who cares. Whoever — no, whatever it is — it's foreign to Nowhere Islands.”

•“…”

•“But he looks hurt. I'll just make sure once he's calmed down..and then we can ask him questions later.”

•“That's fine, I guess. We just need to know where he came from..”

Claus and Lucas are now available in my askblog!!

[irregularbillcipher]

going over old fic notes and outlines and character talks with friends and it's always really funny when i get to the stuff i was developing early-mid 2019 where bill just literally kept kryptos around to rag on, and he genuinely just. did not like the man. like was just completely annoyed with his general existence. boy have things changed

[arolesbianism]

Hm. I am getting the distinct feeling that either revanced broke or some apps are doing smth real shitty

[aliyahwritings]

ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach. 

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. 

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy. 

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini. 

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you. 

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

[amazinglyashy]

hello, idk if you're open but if you dooo, can you do HC of lads seeing MC being more...brutal? since we all know our mc is badass but kind right, but what if sometimes she slipped and her darkness come forth more than she usually let on? hahahah idk it just after all mc been through she's more than validated to be villain u kno. so yea! thankchuu

Just a heads up, I am ALWAYS open, it's just a matter of when I get to the request, so as long as you're patient, anyone can send in anything anytime!! :D And ooh, this is an interesting one, but something I've definitely thought about haha. MC's been through a lot, and I feel a lot of readers also have too, and there comes a point when you gotta say screw it, I'm mad now. (I'll also say I'm still really grumpy about how little we get regarding MC's grieving during certain points of the story, and the lack of how the Li's all react as well to the news, no matter how little they know about the situation :/) Thank you for the request <3 hope you enjoy!

Love and Deepspace Li's reaction to seeing you finally snap

Rafayel -

He's somehow... not surprised.

But can you blame him?

The amount of rage Rafayel carries in his heart is constantly, constantly threatening to bubble up to the surface and boil over the edges of his last remaining ounces of humanity. The amount of cruelty on the basis of pure rage that he could commit is not a volume that he is proud to carry, but something he carries heavily though.

So seeing you finally snap is... almost cathartic.

He knows what he's been through, hell- he knows a great deal of what you've been through. Even in the distant past. It would be a wonder if you weren't angry. If you weren't seeing things. If you hadn't 't been simmering up to your breaking point from microaggressions and trauma stacking up and up until-

Here you were.

And for him, it feels like you're doing something of your own volition- feeling something that was entirely your own. Devoid of any outside influence or need to be the kindest person in the room. To keep your head down, path straight and narrow.

And despite the sheer amount of power he possesses in comparison to you, he will admit if asked- that he was just a little bit afraid at first. Even if just for a moment.

And damn, he was proud of you.

Zayne -

Calmly, he watches you.

It's out of character, sure, given how you usually are. Even when you're rude or abrasive, it's never anywhere near... something quite like this.

But the other thing is- he has a good grasp on the human psychic, just from his medical knowledge, even though it isn't his main area of study. He knows what it takes to truly make someone snap, both from personal experience and from his findings in research.

He also knows the extent of things you have been through that have been building up, cumulating into this moment before him where you have finally just broken.

Depending on the level of rage and cruelty you reach, he may stop you, or he may let you go. Either way, his actions are calm and calculated, no matter how he might disagree with, agree with, or fear your actions. He knows someone needs to remain levelheaded in this situation, and he's more than capable of taking on that role.

Gods forbid once you calm down that you feel guilty. If what you did was uncalled for or wrong, he'll discuss it with you, but if there was justifications to your actions or experiences and trauma that had led you to your moment, he'll just pull you into a hug slowly, his expression even.

He'll say it if he needs to, but his actions will hopefully tell you that nothing, nothing you do will ever change his love for you.

Xavier -

He's startled.

He himself is used to having complete control over his emotions, to the point where he can disguise them exceedingly well to maintain a calm aura. So seeing you fully snap and head down a warpath, it's... shocking.

But he's not entirely surprised.

Honestly, he would be more surprised if you had never got this angry at all, given the things you had told him under the covers in his bed, after a particularly late night in his apartment watching movies together.

You've been through a lot.

He knows that.

He knows how it hurts.

So when you finally rage, it takes him a few moments for even the thought of stopping you to enter his mind. And even when it does, he first has to have a small battle internally on whether or not letting you go off and have your cathartic moment is better, even at the cost of a little bit of destruction.

He'll stop you if it's particularly dangerous though, even if it means having to wrestle you away from whatever it is that was taking the brunt of your anger.

Otherwise, he'll just let you go.

Whenever you're done though, if you dare try and steal a glance back towards him, afraid that you may have scared him or made him scared or angry with you-

He'll just flash you a small, comforting smile.

Sylus -

Sylus spends the majority of his time in a cesspool of seething rage, backstabbing psychopaths, and fake smiles that take advantage of the weak and needy.

Anger for himself, anger towards others, anger to benefit others who can't seem to get angry themselves-

If anyone knows what fury is, it's him. Whether secondhand, personally, or just being around it for so long, he knows the emotion intimately well and every single shape or form that it could possibly take.

Still, seeing you suddenly lose it is... surprising.

He likes it.

Not in a way where he's turned on necessarily (though it is an additional feeling), but the enjoyment stems from constantly seeing you put others before yourself- watching you make yourself small so that the people around you could be big- and now finally watching you take what you deserved in his eyes.

He won't intervene unless you're doing something he knows you'll deeply regret later, instead favoring watching you until you've burnt out and finished to the end.

He's mostly quiet, he knows it's probably not something you want to talk about, like most people wouldn't want to after a particularly vicious outburst in an argument. But he can't help a few small comments.

"I'm surprised. I never thought the kitten had such big claws. You really surprised me, sweetie."

[atinylittlepain]

Hello there! I was wondering if you would be down to do a Joel smut where he’s a bit insecure about his body (maybe he’s older than the reader? Scars?) but the reader wants to praise him anyway? (Praise kink? Idk how to write smut tbh)

hey! I love this idea, Joel deserves a little TLC for sure :)

All Yours - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel has been distancing himself from her, and she's worried he's found someone else. When she discovers the real reason he's been so cold, she shows him just how much she cares for him.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, angst, age gap, insecure!Joel :(( but then fluff yay

..............................

Joel Miller is acting strange, and it’s starting to freak her out. It had started out subtle, since they had settled in Jackson. They had never before had the luxury of sex that wasn’t fully clothed, frantic, one eye always checking for danger. But now, with a whole bed to themselves, Joel still refused to undress, instead overwhelming her with affection, his loose belt buckle and the buttons of his flannel shirts digging into her bare skin as he fucked her. She didn’t make anything of it at first, but after two months of it continuing, she was starting to get frustrated. 

Her frustration bloomed into worry when it began to escalate, Joel pulling away altogether. He started picking up odd hours for patrol shifts, coming home so late she’d barely feel him slipping into bed, long pulled under by sleep. And by the time she woke up in the morning, he’d already be gone. He was never around, she and Ellie had even started to grimly joke that the old man was always “away on business,” but really, her heart was starting to break the longer it went on. 

She is starting to resign herself to the reality that maybe Joel has gotten tired of her. After all, the only thing that had brought them together was the forced closeness of hauling Ellie across the country, and now that they’re settled in a town with plenty of pretty women – women closer to his own age, her mind cruelly adds – she can’t blame him for not wanting to be tied down. 

She feels listless in this limbo he keeps her in. He hasn’t really touched her in weeks, but he still hasn’t said anything. When he does come home and leaves a faint kiss on her forehead, she almost wishes he’d just put her out of her misery already, tell her that it’s over, that he’s letting her go, that there’s someone else. Almost. But the truth is, she loves him, probably too much for her own good. She’s not sure if she could ever let go, and it makes her angry as hell. 

Letting go starts to feel like a possibility during her next patrol shift. She has been partnered up with a young man named Mason. He’s funny and friendly, a warm smile with dimples that could’ve landed him on the front page of a magazine back before. And he seems to like her, lobbing fluffy compliments and jokes her way, brushing touches to her arms. 

When they get back to town that afternoon, he helps her dismount, firm hands on her hips that linger as she hops down. They share a small smile as Mason walks away, but hers quickly dissolves when she turns around and sees Joel fixing her with a look that she can’t quite place, his eyes squinting, lips pursed. Before she can move toward him, he’s already turning heel and sauntering off, another piece of her heart cracking at the sight.

…

She stays at the stables, helping out for the rest of the afternoon, her mind a haze as it replays Joel’s steely expression. She figures he won’t be home by the time she gets back to their place, and she tiredly trudges upstairs in need of a shower and another hard night of sleep. It’s such a shock to see him sitting on the edge of their bed that she actually lets out a yelp when she walks into their room, his head whipping up to look at her.

“Wha– what’re you doing home? Don’t you have a shift?” Joel huffs at her question, his chest puffing up a little as he furrows his brow at her.

“Why? You bringing Mason home?” It’s like a punch to her gut, and all she can do is let out a breathy laugh of disbelief.

“Oh no. You don’t get to do that, Joel.”

“Do what?”

“Be jealous – over nothing, I might add – not after you haven’t so much as looked at me in months.” He presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting away from hers, making her sigh.

“Joel– would you just talk to me, please? I feel like– like you don’t want me anymore.” His eyes flash to hers at that.

“You know that’s not true.” She huffs.

“Do I? It’s kinda hard to believe anything else. You barely talk to me anymore. And I can only hang around so long when it’s clear you’re no longer looking my way.”  He gets up and takes one stride to stand in front of her. His hands flex by his sides and she wills him to just reach out, but when he doesn’t, she lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Christ, you’re making it pretty obvious, Joel. You won’t even touch me. I just– I can’t–” He finally reaches out, his hands cupping her jaw, effectively silencing her. She curls her own hands around his wrists as he stares at her.

“That’s not what this is about. I’m not– I always want you. Don’t want anyone else.” She huffs, her heart still kicking up at his words.

“Then what, Joel? Just tell me what it is, please.” He sighs, his eyes flickering down to her lips for just a beat before he’s pulling away from her to sit back down on the edge of the bed. She follows suit, the outside of their thighs pressing firmly against each other where they sit. When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter, hoarser.

“I don’t want you to be stuck with me.” Her head whips to the side to look at him, eyes widened in total confusion.

“What? Why would you even say something like that? It’s ridiculous.” Joel keeps his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap, his voice a low murmur as he speaks.

“It ain’t ridiculous. It’s true. You could have anyone you want in this town, and I’m– well, I’m old, and not what I once was. You don’t deserve to be stuck with me just because we were on the road together. I won’t do that to you.” She can’t believe the words leaving his mouth, and lets out an incredulous scoff. She’s a bit harsh in the way she grasps his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

“Is that seriously what you think? That I’m just stuck with you because we traveled together?” He doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes, making her sigh at the wavering look on his face.

“Joel, I’m with you because I want to be with you. You should know better than most that I’m not one to stick around unless I have good reason to.” He huffs at that, shaking his head in her hold.

“You shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want to be with me. Should be with someone younger, someone better, someone–” She cuts him off with a quick kiss, leaving him with wide eyes and parted lips as she smirks at him.

“Has trying to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do ever worked out for you, Miller?” She sees his throat bob as he continues to stare at her and she can’t help but laugh. Relief floods through her system at the realization that Joel still wants her by his side, followed quickly by a weary adoration for this man who thinks so little of himself. She strokes her thumb along the scruff of his cheek and leans in for another kiss, letting this one deepen until it coaxes a low groan from his throat. She only pulls away when he’s good and breathless, resting her forehead against his.

“The next time you start having stupid ideas about this, about us, you come to me first, huh?” He nods lightly, chest heaving as her other hand splays over his heart.

“Alright– still think you’d be better off with someone else.” She quirks her brow at him, pulling him with her as she stands up. His hands come naturally to rest on her hips as she fixes him in place with a tilted grin. 

“Can I show you what I think about that? About me being better off with someone else?” Joel is quiet, just a hint of a nod, but his hands are quick to grasp her wrists when she starts to work at the buttons of his shirt. She furrows her brow at him and he sighs.

“It’s just– I’m nothing to look at, darlin. A whole lot of scars and– you don’t have to– s’what I’m saying.” She feels her heart drop at his words, the truth finally settling in that this really is how low Joel thinks of himself. She presses kisses into his knuckles where they’re holding onto her wrists.

“I want to. Please let me see you, Joel.” He huffs, muscles still tensed, but he lets go of her wrists to let her continue her work. She could hear a pin drop, it’s so quiet as she undoes the last few buttons, dragging her palms back up to shrug his shirt down his arms, leaving his chest bare before her for the first time. 

She stands still for a moment, her hands hovering over his skin, taking in the sight of him. There are scars littered over his skin, but there’s obvious strength woven with softness in the tan expanses of his torso, and it takes her breath away. He jolts slightly when she finally lays her palms over his chest. She grazes her fingers down his front before dipping back up as she starts to walk around him, hands dragging up over his shoulders to rest on the broad expanse of his back. 

“You’re perfect, Joel Miller. Could look at you all day.” She seals her words with a smear of kisses pressed between his shoulder blades, smiling at the shudder she feels run through him. He grumbles, craning his neck back to catch a glimpse of her.

“Bet you say that to all the boys, huh?” She laughs as she circles back around, leaving her palms splayed over his chest.

“Mm, nope. Just the one.” That earns her a flushed grin from him that she chases after with a hard kiss, their mouths opening to each other as she twines her arms around his neck, pressing in close to his chest. The warmth radiating from him makes her dizzy, a sensation that increases tenfold when he pulls back to coax her out of her own shirt, twining back together in a bare embrace.

She starts to shuffle them backwards until he topples back onto the bed with a small “oof,” taking her along with him as she straddles his thighs. He goes to roll them over, sitting up slightly and squeezing her hips, but she’s quick to press him back down to the bed with her palm in the middle of his chest.

“Uh-uh, Miller. I’m not done looking at you.” He grumbles, but it’s quickly turned into a sigh as she dips down to start leaving open-mouthed kisses across his chest, trailing lower and lower until she’s nosing along the waist of his jeans. Joel reaches out for her, firm palm coaxing her to look up at him.

“You don’t– don’t have to do that.” She huffs, grabbing his wrist and leaning back over him to pin his hand by his head. 

“I want to. If you’ll let me, that is.” He’s looking at her like she’s crazy, pupils blown to make the swimming brown of his eyes look even darker. He finally scrunches his eyes shut, pressing his head back and letting out a breathy curse before looking at her again.

“Jesus christ– you’re asking if I’ll let you? Gonna fucking kill me– can have whatever you want, darlin. S’all yours.” She grins at that, pressing a few light kisses to his lips as she murmurs to him.

“Just relax, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.” With that, she trails back down his torso, nails grazing along his sides until her fingers land on his belt buckle and get to work. He huffs a bit when she gets off the bed entirely to unlace his boots and tug them off his feet. She just shoots him a look as she works.

“Wanna see all of you, Joel. Don’t pout.” He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he watches her shrug his jeans and boxers all the way off his legs. She’s never gotten him like this before, completely bare in front of her, and clearly under her control. It makes her mind go hazy for a moment, and she steadies herself by running her palms up the muscle of his thighs, kneeling back between his legs. 

His flushed cock has smeared precum across the soft muscle of his belly, and he lets out a harsh sigh when she noses up the vein running along the underside, lips barely brushing the tip. He instinctively reaches for her, trying to thread his fingers through her hair, but she’s quick to catch him and pin his arms back to the bed, something he grunts at so petulantly that she can’t help but laugh.

“You’re teasing me, darlin.” She just smirks, laying a kiss to his pouted lips.

“Patience, Miller. I’m getting there. Just lay back and enjoy it, huh?” Before he can get a reply in, she’s dipping back down to lick a hot stripe up his cock, coaxing a low groan from him.

He’s big enough to make her jaw ache a little as she starts to take him into her mouth, but the sweet sighs and curses he’s letting out are enough encouragement to keep going. She alternates between bobbing down his length and laving her tongue over the tip, and from the way Joel is tugging his hands through his hair as he watches her with a crumpled brow, it seems to be the right combination.

“Fuck, darlin– gotta mouth on you, huh? Taking me so well– fucking christ.” She leans back slightly to spit into her palm, wrapping her hand around the base of him that she can’t quite reach with her mouth. She can’t take her eyes off him, the blooming flush spreading across his chest, the way the quick pink of his tongue keeps darting out to wet his lips, the muscles in his forearms jumping with the way he’s raking his fingers through his hair.

“So pretty like this, Joel. Never wanna stop looking at you.” He grumbles at that, covering his face with his forearm but she lifts up to tug his arm away, holding his chin to get him to look at her even as he huffs.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been called pretty before. That’s a new one.” 

“I mean it. So pretty for me. Just for me, right?” She can see the bob of his throat as he nods in her grip.

“Just for you, darlin. Only for you.” That’s all she wanted to hear, needed to hear, and she presses another chaste kiss to his lips before lowering back between his legs and taking him back into her mouth. 

She can feel his thighs flexing under her palms, a clear sign that he’s getting close coupled with the dissolving string of praises and curses leaving his lips. 

“Fuck– you gotta stop or I’m gonna come.” She barely pulls off him, her lips still brushing his swollen tip as she grins up at him.

“That’s kinda the point, Miller.” She takes him into her mouth as far as she can, gagging lightly when his tip hits the back of her throat. Joel lets out a warbly moan, his voice cracking on a curse as he presses his head back into the sheets. 

It’s not long before he’s tensing up hard, a broken chant of her name leaving his mouth as his warmth starts to pool in her mouth. She doesn’t pull away until the muscles in his thighs have relaxed, holding his hazy stare as she swallows his spend. Joel lets out another curse at the sight, chest still heaving. 

“Never gonna stop replaying that in my head, fuck.” She laughs at his breathy words, crawling over him to lay down in the crook of his arm, her cheek resting over his heart. She lays a kiss between his collar bones before craning her neck up to press her lips to his, pulling away with a sweet smack.

“Are you done acting like a fucking fool now?” He huffs at her smug words, but the crooked smile threatening to spread across his face tells her all she needs to know.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. Was just trying to give you an out.” She settles back into his chest with his arm wrapped around her, calloused palm brushing along her back.

“Well don’t. If anything, you’re stuck with me, Miller.” A deep laugh rumbles through his chest as he squeezes her a little closer.

“Don’t mind the sound of that, darlin.”

[aachria]

The long awaited (maybe? Idk how many of you were waiting for this) SSSBMTY College AU!

Majors in bold

Headcanons in regular text

Notes about the art indented in orange

Luffy — Undeclared

Was forced into school by his gramps. (The university dean. The fucking dorm building all the Strawhats but Jimbei live in is named after him.)(it was this or join the navy.) Takes the most random classes he can. Some of them are advanced and require perquisites and no one knows how he keeps getting into them. Wears shorts and sandals in winter & will run any errand or do any odd job for food. He has a very nice bike he got for free from a garage sale that Franky fixed up. There's a campus wide bet on when and what he'll choose as his major. His bucket hat was a gift from Shanks, the universities World Economics prof. Has a million friendship bracelets on his ankles because Ed makes them when they're stressed. Never has a bag on him. Fights Canadian geese on the way to class, like a fucking maniac. Protected species who?

When I tell you that this drawing of Luffy is the first time I've ever drawn actual feet with toes that don't look fucking ridiculous I need to cheer for me. Why is he a different flavour of boy every time I draw him please. His ass isn't rubber in this universe, of course he's scuffed to shit. Chopper ran out of Spiderman bandaids, sorry bud. Advocate for the Single Piercing Luffy™ agenda, he went and got it done with Ed when they got their helix.

Ed — English major Psychology minor

Took History of Piracy for easy grades & a story idea. Known around campus as that asshole who'll tell you exactly which of your roommates ate your leftovers for $5. Is roommates with Luffy because of a system mix-up when they got distributed. Always wears a Burberry trench coat Nami thrifted for $3 and gave them as a bday gift. Carries everything in a ratty falling apart messenger bag. Them and Luffy filled out marriage papers on a dare, Zoro (who got legally ordained on a dare minutes before) oversaw that, Zoro and Ed filed the papers when they were drunk. So Ed and Luffy are legally married. And they don't even notice until tax season and Jonah, Ed's accounting friend, asks about it.

I need you to ignore the inconsistence with the hands in these ok? Some of them get very nice and normal hands, and others get weird shaped blobs. Sorry Ed, them's the breaks kid.

Zoro — Health and Fitness major Mathematics minor

Literally no one knows why he has a Mathematics minor, least of all him. P sure he walked into the wrong class on the first day and just stuck with it. The most terrifying captain of the kendo team the university has ever had. He's won more championships and trophies in his tenure than the school has in its history, the revenue he brings in from sponsorships and such make them turn a blind eye to his... eccentricities (three sword style. Nobody has stopped him yet, anyone who says it's illegal gets penalized). Has had campus security called on him so often from being creepy when walking home from the gym in the dark there's a poster of him in the security office that says 'NOT ACTUALLY A THREAT. JUST WEIRD AND WALKS WITH PURPOSE.'

Zoro's sword patch on his jacket was designed by Usopp, embroidered by Luffy for a class (shittily) and fixed up and sewn on by Ed. Those docs have seen war. He has put them through hell. He has walked through a fucking river with those things, he superglues them back together every time they break. Franky had to strongarm him into getting the soles professionally replaced.

Nami — Meteorology major Finance minor

All of her clothes are thrifted designer things. Regularly terrorizes Value Village employees. Anything she has that isn't thrifted she gets from the many estate sales she plagues, snatching grandma's entire Chanel collection and all her nicest jewelry. She has absolutely everything anyone could ever need in her purse. Tampons and pads? She gotchu. Extra pens? It'll cost you, but yeah. A curling iron? Sure, why the hell not. She runs the betting pool on Luffy's major with Ed. She also writes a gossip column for the school newspaper and has a podcast she uploads a new episode to every few months. Shows up to every class looking like a supermodel no matter the time. 7am? Perfect. 10pm? Fabulous. Your go-to if you get locked out of your dorm. Has a moped but barely uses it.

Nami's bag is a large Prada Gallaria Saffiano bag, which I painstaking drew to accuracy down to the colour even though it still looks ever so slightly different, because Nami is a big purse girl. The compass rose necklace was a going away gift from Nojiko when she left for uni. I think her haircut is so cute I love her sm. Don't pay any mind to how fucking disheveled half of their lineart looks next to her pls.

Usopp — Graphic Design major

Not a member of the archery club, but shows up enough he’s in all the team photos. Was originally the designated driver, had a pretty little mini van they called the Merry, had one of those fucking fuzzy dice hanging mirror things in the shape of a sheep’s head. Got in a bad car accident and she got totaled by some jackass in a red Honda Civic. Dating Kaya, who’s a nursing student. They barely see each other because she’s so fucking busy and half the students are convinced the girlfriend Usopp is always talking about and calling is fake. The Strawhats have a dnd campaign that they run every other week, Usopp DM's. On weekends he works at an axe throwing range and holds the record for most bullseyes in a row. They have his picture mounted on the wall.

Usopp's necklace is the old key to the Merry, and he engraved his belt buckle for a project. I cursed his ass with the giant fuck off portfolio bag because those things are so big and unwieldy. The people in his program's studio never clean their paint up properly, that's why he's covered in it. Advocate for the Usopp With Gages™ agenda. God he is such a cutie patootie.

Sanji — Business degree

Literally grew up working in a restaurant, he’s only going to school to get the degree so he can open his own and also because Zeff threated to castrate him if he didn't get a higher education. Cooks basically every single meal for the dorm, since it’s just the Strawhats (it's a new (old it's old and was refurbished. Everyone assumed it was haunted.) building that they just dedicated to Garp. Has no other residents yet). Him and Zoro fight so much in their shared room half the time he ends up kicking him out and making him sleep in the community room lmao. He just shows up in half the culinary classes because he hates the business ones so much, the one time someone tried to tell him to leave he cussed them out for a full ten minutes while gesticulating wildly with a knife in hand. They never tried that again. Saw one of the profs berate a young lady for wearing a dress shirt to class because it’s impractical and proceeded to take that personally. Yeah he wears three piece suits to all his classes, he could still kick you ass in ‘em. Shut up. Volunteers to show around foreign exchange students because he can speak at least 4 foreign languages fluently. Is it to woo pretty French girls with his charm? Wouldn't you like to know.

I could not draw Sanji in a decent pose for the life of me, his ass was just not having it. He's got one of them really nice leather messenger bags with the lined pockets and filigree, he's very proud of it.

Chopper — PreMed

One of the few Strawhats who regularly sees Usopp’s reclusive girlfriend, and is very confused as to why people think she isn’t real. Still a literal child (is 15 still a child? Yeah that's like barely a teenager), a goddamn prodigy and got in with an incredibly good recommendation from the best doctor in the country, who just so happens to be his adoptive mother. He’s literally too cute for anyone to question that, plus he’s the sharpest tack in the damn class. He knocked his front tooth out ages ago (it was an adult tooth) but he's too fucking busy to get an appointment to get it fixed, just adds another layer to his babyface. Nice girls keep asking him if he's here to go see his parents or older siblings, he's endlessly infuriated by it and Sanji is endlessly jealous. Saved Ed from choking to death in a Domino's parking lot the first time they met, he dropped his pizza doing it so they bought him another. The rest is history. Does not feel cold, wears chunky boots year round. Got them reflective ass eyes like a deer, no one has ever taken a good picture of this child. He looks fucking possessed in his school ID.

TELL ME WHY I ALMOST FORGOT TO DRAW CHOPPER. I finished drawing Franky and was like "gee, only Brook and Jimbei to go! Good for me," and then I had to pause while looking as the picture of the group I was semi-referencing for heights n shit and was like "OH FUCK THE CHILD—" He's so cute tho. He's giving lil baby Goro Akechi. The argyle sweater vest and Timbs were a must, so was his hockey boy haircut. Matching backpack and tie for the win. Oh and the freckles, Chopper with freckles is everything to me.

Robin — Has a million hyper specific degrees. Currently earning her third doctorate.

Very mysterious and sexy. Mature student who occasionally gives lectures in the archeology program when she has free time. Owns a motorcycle but barely rides it. How is she not in debt after so much schooling? Don't fucking ask if you want to live. Is that why she lives in the dorm building? Do. Not. Ask. She and Luffy attend the same Theology class, no one knows how Luffy is passing with such good grades, but Robin is adamant that he doesn't take notes or borrow hers, and takes to having the same scores as him with grace. Child actor on one of those show like Barney (but not Barney dear lord) or Reading Rainbow and people only knew her as 'that kid with the creepy fuckin stare.' She was a meme a few years back, they called her the devil child. Every time someone asks her about it she just says she has no idea what they're talking about while giving them the creepy stare.

Women with Big Bags truther, right here. Robin deserves to be put in a suit. Goddamnit, get that woman in a suit!

Franky — Has a bachelors of Engineering, a bachelors of Architecture, and is earning his (water specific) Architecture degree

Currently the groups designated driver (after the tragic death of the poor Merry) with his supped up SUV, the Sunny. How do all the Strawhats fit inside? The power of love, obviously. That car will NOT fucking move if even one of the seatbelts is undone. Made Ed and Luffy wedding rings after he found out they accidentally got married. (Only after laughing for a half our straight, almost passing out, and laughing again. Then he cried for another hour about how beautiful it was.) He sometimes works as a nude model for life drawing classes on campus. Half of the the Strawhats have, in one way or another, seen him in the buck. Has knee braces from an... incident... with a train when he was younger. Now he volunteers at KidsAbility and has a shift on the campus crisis/suicide hotline. Huge advocate for mental health services at the school. He lives in the dorms for the ✨experience✨. Even worse than Luffy, mf wears booty shorts in the dead of winter. He's constantly dressed like It's laundry day. One of those guys from a famous Vine when he was younger that just gets stopped while he's walking so people can go "TRAMPOLINE VASE GUY??" (Iceberg was recording. I love Iceberg.)

Yes Franky is wearing an I ♥ MILFs shirt, what of it? It was a gift. Drawing him was an exercise in struggling with the pompadour and getting uncomfortably close to drawing Syndrome. Yes, he's cold all the time. No, he will not stop.

Brook — Literally no one knows. Something music related probably.

Fucker has been around forever, there’s old ass profs who swear to god they went to school with him and he hasn’t aged a day. Regularly plays local bars and cafes. Doesn't own a cellphone, he can literally only operate rotary phones. Computers confuse the shit out of him. Knows nothing about pop culture or recent events, but is up to date on everything in the music industry. He sometimes helps organize the old library archives because he's somehow the only person who understands the system they're organized in. Sometimes he'll just namedrop a famous singer/band he's either played with, done karaoke with, or done background vocals/instrumentals for and you have to guess whether he's telling the truth or just saying shit. There's a campus wide betting pool (run by Nami and Ed, go figure) on whether he's a vampire, ghost, time traveler, or Dorian Gray in disguise. Prepares the questions for 70s night pub trivia. Every time the Strawhats plan a ghost hunt he's busy, then at the end they find out that all the paranormal shit they've been experiencing is just him running his errands. It's happened at least four times.

Is Brook off-putting enough? I was trying to make him off-putting. He swears up and down the neck tattoo was gotten on a dare by Elton John, what, you gonna question a man who looks like he stepped out of Coraline? The skeleton gloves were a gift from Ed.

Jimbei — Has already graduated as a Marine Biology major Political Science minor and is taking both a Gender Studies course and a Peace and Conflict Studies course years later.

Teaches martial arts at a local dojo on weekends and volunteers with the martial arts team on campus. Robin helps him organize protests on weekends. He's good buds with a lot of the faculty and gets invited to after work drinks regularly. He helped establish a program that walks people who stay late at the library to their dorms when he was first a student that's still going strong to this day. Lives off campus and has the Strawhats over for BBQ on long weekends. Literally the only time the Strawhats eat food not made by Sanji. The Grill Master™. Somehow holds some kind of record or high score at every single bar/pub in town. Knows every single mailman and janitor by name. MVP of the catch and release fishing club, helps plan all of their trips.

I struggled with him. I struggled hard. That's a man who went his whole childhood with a horrendous underbite and only got it fixed once he was an adult. Ed gave him the fishing lure earrings out of guilt after he brought them on one of his fishing trips and they fell in and nearly capsized their boat. IT'S A REUSED PLASTIC BAG JIMBEI IS RESPONSIBLE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT—

[i314flix]

the one where jake seresin likes to call it ‘welfare checks’ whenever he’s checking how you are—but let’s be real, everyone knows that it’s only an excuse he uses because he can’t seem to erase the uneasiness he feels whenever he knows you’re not fine.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers au; ft. naval aviator!reader

warning/s: swearing, alcohol consumption, making out, sexual innuendos, daddy issues(?), mentions of feeling pressured, mentions of drunk driving (nobody drunk drives here though), mention of a near death experience, most likely wrong info about naval aviators and the nature of their job sksks i'm sorry this is strictly fiction okAY

opening note. idk how this ended up being almost 6k LMAO. but anyways, i was so inspired to write this one scene (which you can read below) and ended up just adding so many details and back story that now here we are???? hope you guys like it though! jake seresin brain rot is real and i'm admittedly a goner for—as glen once put it—navy draco malfoy 😭

Jake knocks on your door three times, patiently waiting and looking around the street as if he’s afraid that someone followed him here. He knows that it’s unwise to be at your doorstep at this hour, but he was done eavesdropping and subtly asking around about your absence, bothered that it’s been almost a week and you haven’t been attending training like you should be. He heard Phoenix tell Bob that you were taking a short break because of the near-death experience you had while flying along the course last time, in fact almost quitting entirely if it weren’t for Maverick who instead offered you to breathe for a few days and then come back to see if you still wanted out of the mission. You were considered by your fellow TOPGUN graduates to be one of the captain’s top candidates to lead the mission, so Jake understood why Maverick didn’t let you off the hook that easily.

A few seconds pass and he contemplates on knocking again or leaving, deeming this idea as ridiculous—but then he sees the lights open and you’re peeking through the curtain of the small window beside your front door, disappearing again only to unlock the dozen locks on your door and opening it to greet Jake who meets your gaze immediately.

“What the hell are you doing here?” is the first thing you say, flummoxed by his presence. You and him aren’t exactly the closest among the crew, and there have been several times in which you’ve displayed how annoyed you were by everything Jake either says or does.

“I’m visiting you,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t been in training for a week now. Are you quitting or something?”

You stare at him, appearing in deep thought or perhaps attempting to read his mind, and suddenly, you’re closing the door.

Jake widens his eyes in surprise but is quick to extend a hand out to prevent you from doing so.

“Really?” he complains. “You’re going to slam the door in my face?”

“Look, Hangman,” you begin, sighing and making your tired state known, “if you’re here to give me shit, don’t, because I have no will to show you the patience I typically have on a normal basis.”

“I’m not here to give you shit.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I told you—I’m visiting.”

“For what? To make sure that I’m not going back so that Maverick can assign you as team leader?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay. I heard you’re doing fine, but I just wanted to see it for myself.”

You’re quiet again, and you revert back to staring at him, as if you’re waiting for him to admit that this is just some prank. Jake doesn’t say anything though, he just returns your stare, appearing sincere for once, worried and waiting for you to realize that he’s not aiming to piss you off every time an opportunity presents itself.

You open the door wider. “Now you see me.”

“You doing good?”

“I’m doing good,” you affirm. “Just… I don’t know. Going through some stuff. Mixed thoughts—feelings—I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“I’m here and it’s past 11 p.m.,” he says. “If I didn’t want to be bothered, I would have done this welfare check another time.”

You snort at the term he used in visiting you. “Are you sure? You don’t peg me as a good listener, to be honest. I don’t want to pour my heart out and end up listening to your life story instead.”

“I’m not like that. I could be a good listener if I tolerate the person enough.”

“You hate me, though.”

He laughs. “I don’t hate you, Goldie.”

Goldie. Jake liked your call sign because he liked the way you scowled whenever he was the one who utters it. The story behind the name was that your very first squadron saw a picture of you wearing these ridiculous platform gold sneakers when they were snooping around your Facebook profile, finding a photograph taken years ago by your mother at some family gathering you no longer remember. Eventually the joke turned into them calling you Goldie, and when the callsign review board was held, every member of the squadron voted for it to be your call sign and got it approved.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. 

“I just like driving you insane,” he admits with a smirk, and now you’re more reminded of the Hangman you know. “It gives me great pleasure to get under your skin. You never know how to fake that look on your face whenever you’re mad—it’s very funny.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

The edges of your mouth twitch. “Fine, come in. I have beer. Or wine if that’s what you prefer.”

Jake contemplates about it—because like what he thought of earlier when he arrived on your porch, it’s unwise to be here. It wasn’t like in TOPGUN or the Hard Deck wherein there were other people around you for him to always be cautious of his actions; he’s afraid that he slips up or let his repressed romantic interest in you get the best of him since he has you alone.

At the same time however, he just didn’t care enough about the consequences for him to miss this chance of getting to know you better. 

“Beer would be nice,” he tells you as he steps inside.

You nod and turn to head to the kitchen.

The house is a standard bungalow. When you walk in, you’re met with the living room, and then a few steps away from that is the kitchen. On the left side of the house, there’s a hallway leading to what Jake assumed to be the bedroom and washroom. He takes a seat on the sofa upon your instruction, scanning his surroundings and taking in the actuality of the situation he allowed himself to be in.

“Here you go.” You hand him an opened beer and he mutters his thanks, watching you go to the chair near him and plop down.

There’s silence, the two of you just drinking. You engage in small talk for a while, conversing about the most trivial things and matters that he’s not that even keen to know. The topic bounces on and on, until he can’t help but finally break it, impatient now and wanting to know what’s really been going on with you for the past few days.

You smile, amused by his little outburst. “You really want to talk about what’s bothering me?”

“I'm certainly not here to drink and talk about how hot it is on the beach.” He points out. “Just get on with it. You don’t have to tell me your whole life story. Just tell me why you’ve been gone since the accident.”

He catches you wince at the mention of an accident. “I’m resting.”

“You’re resting?”

“Yeah. It’s what Maverick wants me to do. He insists that I take a breather and then go back once I’m feeling better.”

“And have you been feeling better?”

“No,” you admit. “Actually, I…” you hesitate, flickering your eyes to Jake who’s listening intently. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re the last person I should be—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I know. But that’s the thing, Hangman,” you say. “I think I have to tell someone about it or else I’ll end up more conflicted about the whole thing. And you know what? You might actually be the right person for this.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t give a damn whether I have  your approval or not.”

He scoffs out a laugh. “Wow. Thanks, I guess?”

You grin; you loved teasing him as much as he did the same to you. “I’m planning to quit.”

His hand halts as he’s raising it to get another sip of the beer. He didn’t expect you to drop the bomb that quickly. “What?”

“I want to quit.”

“Because of what? Because of a near death experience? I know your record, and this isn’t even the first time you experience an occurrence that involved—”

“It’s the third time,” you clarify before he’s even done speaking. “I promised myself I’d quit if I almost ended up dead three times.”

“That sounds ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“I never wanted to be a fighter pilot, Hangman.” You confess and he’s stunned by the revelation.

It seemed impossible and untrue. You graduated at the top of your class and you have the reputation of being one of the best in the field. Your leadership skills were top tier, your flying was superb, and you were fearless in the face of danger. He didn’t understand how a person who didn’t want this occupation to have all those qualities and be an overall amazing naval aviator.

“You’re lying,” he says, not knowing how to reply to that other than accusing you of being a liar.

You lean back on your chair, bringing your feet up and holding your knees together. “It’s because of my dad. It’s the typical shit you hear about a daughter wanting her dad’s approval. He’s just… he used to be a fighter pilot himself—and then he got into an accident, lost one of his legs after it happened, and got forced to retire.” You bring the rim of your beer bottle to your lips. “I think he was depressed for a while. He didn’t talk that much anymore and when he did, he was always so angry. Mom always encouraged him to talk to a therapist, just to release all the pent up frustration he must be feeling about what happened, but he refused. He didn’t believe in therapy. He was convinced that he could solve it all on his own.

“Anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought if I could live the life he couldn’t continue and be a naval aviator myself, he’d feel better—or at least, he’ll be the father I used to have. Turns out I was right. Do you know how much he changed when I told him I sent an application to the Naval Academy? He was so pleased. He did a complete 360. Suddenly, it felt like I was his daughter again. It was clear to me then that if I wasn’t Goldie, I wasn’t anyone worth knowing.” You bite your lip, trying not to get emotional. Jake can see that, noticing how your lips are slightly quivering and how you’re avoiding eye contact. “But in a way, I still had some self-respect left. So that’s why I told myself that if I almost get myself killed in three different instances, I’d quit and I wouldn’t care about what Dad thinks. I’ll just go and live my life how I’d want to live it.”

“And last time was the third time.” He reiterates.

“Yep.”

He nods and downs the last gulps of beer.

There’s that silence again, but it’s not awkward. Jake is absorbing everything you just shared to him and you’re trying not to regret the fact that you told all of that to Jake. It’s a story you’re not used to disclosing to just anyone, especially not to someone like Jake who before this night was the reason why your temper was often brought to its highest limits. Yet you can’t deny that a huge weight has been lifted off your whole body thanks to the impromptu venting session; you appreciate the manner in which he stayed quiet and let you finish talking, not once interrupting and not once taking his attention away from you.

“Does Maverick know about this?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m already drafting my request for resignation.”

“You know that most of the time, those requests get rejected, right?”

“Yeah.” You groan, finishing your beer as well. “But I don’t care. I’d at least try. Then if they won’t allow me, maybe I’ll just orchestrate a fourth near death experience and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jake cuts you off and you raise your eyebrows at him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I was just joking.”

“It’s not a good joke. You know better than to joke about things like that.” He’s serious, the most serious you’ve seen him in a long time.

He’s right. You know he is and it pains you to admit it to yourself. You swallow hard, abruptly ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just all over the place these days.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was being stupid.”

“You’re going through a hard time.”

“I’m sorry for trauma dumping.”

“It’s alright, Goldie.”

You stand up, getting his empty bottle and trudging to the kitchen to place them on the counter. “If you want to go, you’re free to. It’s late.”

“I can stay here if you need company.”

You laugh humorlessly. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“It’s not babysitting.” He pushes himself off his seat and follows you. “I just don’t feel good leaving you in this state. You’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m okay,” you correct him. “Like I said, I’m just all over the place these days. I need time alone to think and be sure of what I want to do.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great loss to the Navy if you quit.”

You snort. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Why do you think I like pissing you off? It’s because you’re competition. You’re almost as good as me.”

You’re leaning on the counter and Jake’s standing beside you, his hand a few inches from your waist. 

“Actually, I’m better than you, Hangman.” You smirk. “And maybe so is Rooster. He’s certainly better than you when it comes to being a leader.”

“Yeah, but I’m faster than him.”

“You’re reckless compared to him.”

“I can beat him in a dogfight.”

“He doesn’t leave his teammates behind.”

“Yeah, he forces them to go as slow as he is.”

“It’s not a bad thing. He’s being careful.”

“Slow doesn’t equate to being careful.”

“It doesn’t matter. I like him better than you anyways.”

“You like him better? You sure about that?”

You don’t know how it happened but you’re suddenly standing very close to Jake, your faces tilted towards each other that you’re certain if one of you moves any nearer, you’ll end up kissing. You’re reminded of how the squadron often teases you both, saying that the reason you bickered a lot was because of the sexual tension that both of you shared, but you always made an effort to deny it, declaring that there was no way in hell that you saw Hangman in the sense and you’d rather make out with a frog than the said cocky pilot.

Being in this situation with him right now though? After sharing a beer and letting yourself show your most vulnerable side to him? Seeing how genuinely concerned he is for you? How he actually see you as a highly skilled and capable naval aviator? It messes with your head a bit, makes you think that maybe you’re just really excellent with pretending that you’re not affected by his stupidly handsome smile, or drawn to gazing at his toned body whenever he’s in his uniform, or distracted when he’s sputtering off nonsense meant to rile you up and instead you’re noticing how pink his lips are, how soft they must be, how dozens of girls have fallen victim by his charm and how good he must at working those lips of his…

“You’re staring,” he whispers.

Your eyes move up. “What?”

Jake grins, like he understands what’s happening at this second. “You’re staring at my mouth, Goldie,” he says. “Is there something on my mouth?”

You shake your head. Your cheeks are warming up. Your heart is beating faster. You’re aware that he’s teasing, that he wants to get a reaction from you, and you’re annoyed that he’s getting what he wants. “It’s late,” you repeat your statement from earlier. “You should head back. Get some sleep.”

He thankfully steps back and you exhale.

“When are you coming back?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.” You start leading him to the front door. 

Once you’re there and opening the door for him, he stops for a second, looking at you. “Hey, if you need someone to talk to… you can call me, alright?”

You find yourself smiling in amusement. “Tonight doesn’t make us friends, Hangman.”

“Good.” He returns the smile, sly and that teasing glint still in his eyes. “I don’t want to be friends.”

Before you can quip back a reply, he’s saying goodnight and marching down the steps of your porch, going inside his car and driving off.

****

You came back two days later and returned like you never left.

He didn’t talk to you again after that night. You didn’t call if ever you did need someone to talk to, and he didn’t approach you unless he really had something to say. You two weren’t avoiding the other per se; there just wasn’t a need to be within the other’s vicinity nor the obligation to initiate the conversation that much. However, in Jake’s case, he wanted to check on how you were doing, especially after being briefed on why you were having second thoughts about your position in the Navy—he just didn’t think it was okay for him to do so, not when he had a feeling that you didn’t want acknowledge the fact that you did tell him your story out of everyone in the squadron.

Eventually, it was decided and announced by Cyclone that Maverick would be appointed team leader to conduct the mission, seeing him to be the most fit among the graduates he was supposedly training for the job. Maverick chose Phoenix and Bob to accompany him, picked Rooster along with Payback and Fanboy to head the second strike team, and assigned Hangman as the emergency action pilot.

Jake saw how you were disappointed not to be given responsibility for anything for the mission, which didn’t make sense since you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. He figured you must have been looking forward to being appointed nonetheless, maybe driven by your desire to make your father proud still that you were willing to go on this dangerous operation to please him.

“Hey,” you called just as he was about to hop on his aircraft. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He grinned, tilting his head at you in a mocking manner that makes you regret for saying anything. “Are you going soft on me, Goldie?”

You scoffed, but you were flashing him a grin in an instant. “You wish. I just don’t want you to get yourself killed so I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, that’s totally why.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”

He gave you a wink before carrying on with what he was doing while you made a show of rolling your eyes before walking away.

After that, despite how the events weren’t as smooth sailing as you liked, nobody ended up arranging anyone’s funeral and Jake was even hailed as one of the heroes since he successfully saved Maverick and Rooster when they were heading back to the carrier. 

And now, the whole squadron is doing some kind of post-mission celebration. It’s held in the Hard Deck, the bar near the naval base, and as Jake drinks with the rest of the crew and secretly relishes how everyone no longer saw him as only an arrogant pilot but an arrogant and reliable pilot, he finds himself trying to spot you among the crowd of aviators and every significant staff that made this mission successful, wishing he can know what are your thoughts about what has happened today.

“You see Goldie anywhere?” Jake asks Javy, placing the empty bottle of beer on the counter.

Javy scans the area and shakes his head. “No. But I think I saw her going out earlier.”

Jake nods.

Without further ado, he decides to go out of the bar and try starting his search there. He’s grateful he doesn’t need to explore the whole seaside to spot you plodding to where he’s guessing your car is parked, your legs wobbly and all, appearing you’re preoccupied with no regard to your surroundings that allow him to catch up beside you inconspicuously. As soon as you notice him though, you’re blinking multiple times, pausing for you’re surprised to see him here when you know he should be with the others.

“Jake,” you say, and he ignores the odd feelings that erupt in his chest upon hearing his name from your lips. “What are you—”

“Welfare check,” he explains. “Where are you going?”

You laugh out loud. He realizes you’re a bit drunk. “These welfare checks are becoming frequent.”

“It’s the second time. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Two times is too much for you.”

He changes the subject. “You’re not planning to drive home when you’re drunk, are you?” 

“No, I’m not that stupid.” You scoff. “But I was planning to sleep in my car, just until I’m feeling okay to drive.”

“I can drive you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let me do it anyway.”

You stare at him and he holds the stare, green eyes piercing through yours that you can feel right in your core. You’re mesmerized, caught in the moment, similar to that time in your kitchen, and before you understand your actions, you’re handing him your keys and going to the passenger’s side.

****

You don’t verbally invite him in but he follows you regardless, taking the sign of you opening the door wider for a few seconds as he walks from behind the invitation itself. You allow him to act as some shadow as you cross the living room and go to the kitchen to get a water bottle from the fridge, no words spoken from the both of you, and it’s only when you turn around to say something that it’s dawning onto you how it was maybe a bad idea to have him over.

You trust Jake as a man who won’t take advantage of you, but you don’t trust yourself with the thoughts you’ve been having about him lately. After that night when he did his first ‘welfare check’, you couldn’t shake him off your mind as fast as you usually could; you’ve spent a lot of your free time thinking of him and how you don’t exactly hate being in his presence like you’ve been telling yourself. Worse, you’re considering how you might truly be attracted to his infamous charm, captivated by that Texan accent and confidence whenever he went, steering the attention of everybody in the room.

You watch him take slow strides in your direction. You’re not moving, you’re not attempting to get away, and when he stops directly in front of you, your heart is doing that thing again—palpitating and striving to burst out of your ribcage.

“Are you going forth with your resignation?” he suddenly asks.

“Not yet, I suppose. I talked to Maverick about it today, and he’s offering to endorse me to the Admiral and Vice Admiral to make me an instructor in TOPGUN.”

“And are you taking it?”

“Maybe.”

The lights inside the house aren’t open. It’s only the lamp you had beside your sofa; its warm hue illuminates your faces and creates this sense of intimacy that you can’t brush off. Jake’s expression tells you he’s in deep thought, as if he’s having a dilemma of his own, and you’re under the impression that perhaps he’s confused with what’s going on right now as much as you are.

“If you take that job, then you’re staying here, aren’t you?” he guesses, and you shrug.

“Most likely.”

“Then there’s no chance we’ll be deployed again in the same squadron.”

“I wouldn’t say there’ll never be a chance again but—it’s a high possibility,” you say. “Why? Can’t stand to be directly in the same team as me anymore?”

He chuckles. “Partly.”

“Partly?” you exclaim. “You really don’t like me that much, huh?”

“It’s not that. You think I’d be here if that was the case?”

“You said the other day you didn’t want to be friends.”

“Yeah, and being friends is still the last thing I want with you.”

“Fine by me. My feelings are very much mutual, I assure you.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re not understanding what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m glad we won’t be placed in the same squadron again because there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest.”

You’re left speechless, the implication of his words causing you to overthink. Is he telling you what you think he’s telling you? Are you completely missing his point? Is he just messing with you? Playing mind tricks to have you wrapped around his finger? Whatever it is—whether your suspicions are right or not—you don’t let yourself think about it further, for this tension between the both of you is heightening and there’s a voice in your head that tells you to kiss him to find out what he really sees you as.

So you do. You kiss him, closing the gap between your lips and throwing your arms around his neck to tug him closer. It’s probably because you’re drunk that you’re brave enough to execute such a crazy gesture; you think how liquid courage indeed does wonders to your brain and your ability to know what’s wrong and right. And you can literally hear the gears in Jake’s brain moving as he stands there, hesitant at first to reciprocate, but eventually succumbing to it with an intensity you didn’t know he’s capable of giving, a hand falling on your hip while the other presses against your cheek, his fingertips inching forward to your hair that you quietly moan at.

Every sense you have is enhanced as the two of you make out. You can discern the pounding of your hearts; you can hear every pleased sound he makes as well as yours; you’re aware of every action he does, what he decides to do with his hands which moves to your waist, to your back, and lower… and even lower than that… 

However, it ends as fast as it starts, and before you can properly react, Jake’s already breaking the kiss.

 He looks grudging. It’s clear that he didn’t want to stop. “You’re drunk,” he whispers, an explanation to why he still did.

“Just tipsy,” you correct, about to try kissing him again but he dodges it, instead placing a lingering kiss on your cheek that spreads chills all over.

“We’re not sleeping together unless you’re sober.” His lips are on your ear, and you’re awfully getting mixed signals. It’s like he’s saying no yet continuously seducing you.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I drove you home because you are.”

“No, you insisted on driving me home.”

“Because you were planning to sleep in your car, Goldie. Come on, are you seriously arguing with me on this?”

You groan, frustrated. Your head is starting to hurt because of the aftermath of the kiss and the thinking and the analyzing when it comes to what he’s saying to you and the actions he’s showing tonight.  “Am I getting the signals wrong? Isn’t the reason you went here because you want to sleep with me? You just told me you didn’t want to be friends—because obviously, friends don’t fuck.”

Jake’s laughing once more. It certainly doesn’t seem you’re sober from the way you’re talking to him, too blunt and careless. “You didn’t read the signals wrong. I do want to sleep with you.”

“Then why are you rejecting me? I’m practically begging here. It’s goddamn embarrassing.”

“____,” he utters your name, still grinning in amusement yet his features are softer now as he stares at your half-lidded eyes boring into him, “if you were any other girl who’s asking me, I’d gladly sleep with you. You’re not some girl though—and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“What?”

“I want to date you.”

“Okay, hold on.” You whip your head back in shock but you’re not pushing him away which Jake takes as a good sign. “Are you kidding? You better not be messing with me right now.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“There’s no way in hell you want to date me, Hangman.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“You don’t even know me that well.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to elope and run away with me.” He chuckles and steps away, giving you a bit of room to breathe. “I’m just saying I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline that’s never going to arrive. “You’re nuts.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought you only wanted sex!”

“I still want sex.” He smirks and you squint at him in distaste. “But after a couple dates maybe. I take it slow with women I actually like.”

“You take it slow? You?”

“In relationships and in bed—if that’s your thing.”

“God, you’re giving me a migraine.”

You head to the part of the kitchen where you have a pouch of medicine for instances like these. From your peripheral vision, you see Jake already getting your unfinished water bottle to hand it to you as soon as you popped the aspirin in your mouth. 

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” he says. “You should rest.”

“I should wake up from this nightmare.”

“I didn’t know jumping on me and begging for sexual intercourse was part of your nightmares, Goldie.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Go to bed. I’ll leave right after.”

“How are you going back to the Hard Deck?”

“I’ll book an Uber.”

“Okay.”

You let Jake usher you to your bedroom, saying that he’ll visit you first thing in the morning. You tell him that he doesn’t have to bother but he replies that he needs to do another welfare check which you roll your eyes at, reckoning that it was cute the first time but now it was getting old and corny. He just laughs at you, for what seems like the nth time that evening, the reality of what happened between the both of you is beginning to sink in—and you’re not freaking out anymore. You think you kind of like it; you like the idea of Jake taking you seriously and conveying how serious he is by making his intentions clear.

“Good night, darlin’,” he says, brushing a portion of your hair away from your face.

You take a deep breath. You still kind of want to jump on him still but you immediately push those inappropriate thoughts away.

“Good night, Jake.”

****

The next day, a huge part of you genuinely thinks that everything that transpired last night was only an infuriating almost-sex dream. 

You would have slept all day if it wasn’t for the heat of the sunlight seeping through your windows. When you opened your eyes, you saw that it was past 11 a.m. and your head was already killing you, causing you to sit up and head groggily towards the kitchen to wash your face, brush your teeth, and find the aspirin that could help with the headache. You’re the type of person who prevents a matter from worsening while it’s still possible, and you don’t want to spend the rest of your day wincing and complaining about your condition when it could easily be solved.

The moment you swallow the medicine, your brain thinks it’s the perfect time to bombard you with memories of what commenced the day prior. In an instant, you’re remembering the drinking, and then Jake driving you home, that odd tension between you two, and—oh, God. The kiss. The conversation after the kiss. Jake confessing what he felt for you and what he was going to do about it now that he said it out loud.

As if on cue, a knock pulls you away from your thoughts and like a robot, you mechanically go to your door to greet whoever it is that’s on the other side. You don’t even have the energy to peek through the curtains first like you usually do, and you realize that it’s a huge mistake that you forgot that step because once you’re swinging the door open, there’s Jake on your porch.

“Woah, not so fast.” He puts a firm hand on your door as you attempt to shut it on his face, very reminiscent of the other night. “I see you’re not planning on using an amnesia card on me because of yesterday.”

You grimace at the reminder. “Go away. My head hurts and I can’t deal with you today.”

“Good thing I bought hangover soup then. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What if I say please?”

“Still no.”

“Alright, come on,” he’s still resisting the force you’re putting on the door to close it, “at least take the soup.”

You glance at the paper bag he’s holding and reach for it. However, he slyly moves it to the opposite direction.

“Hangman.” You grit your teeth.

“If you’re taking the soup…” he trails, “then that means you’re agreeing to a date. Will you still take it?”

It’s ridiculous. It’s such a middle school tactic, you think—yet there’s a little something fluttering inside your chest, a bit amused at how Jake is approaching this. There’s truly nothing like a man who goes out of character for the woman he adores; from the manner in which he’s acting, it’s apparent that he’s not afraid to show you a side of his personality that isn’t the usual macho, cocky, and self-absorbed one. Somehow, even if you’re aware that he’s going towards the cheesy route, you’re digging it.

With a roll of your eyes, you snatch the paper bag from his grasp and saunter back to your kitchen.

“Are you coming in or what?” you call, noticing that he hasn’t stepped in.

He strides to where you are, this cheeky look on his face as he reverts to his standard overconfident self. You remark how he goes after you, soon caging you by the sink while you’re getting the utensils from its designated cabinet to use for this so-called hangover soup he brought with him. You’re not fazed despite the proximity and how this scene mirrors last night when you face him, even raising your chin a bit higher to appear further composed.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he says.

Jake makes a familiar show of his eyes flashing from your eyes to your lips, smirking, and just when you think he’s leaning down to continue where you left off, you tease him by placing a palm on his face and gently shoving his face away.

“Shut up, Bagman.”

gentle reminder: this author is a sucker for validation so please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts about this! ♡

[houseofripley]

HEYYA

Could you write a rhea x fem!reader story where reader eats rhea out while she’s playing video games with her friends? (Smut obv). Please and thank you (I love your writing)

Game Over

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, Public Sex? kinda idk, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering WORD COUNT: 1,367 A/N: ANONNNNN YOU AND I ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH!!! i literally started a draft for something super similar to these a couple hours before you sent this omg

“Aimlabs is free, you should try it sometime, dumbass!” Rhea’s voice thundered from her office down the hall. “Rhea! It’s just a game! Calm down!” You yelled, making your way to the office. 

Your girlfriend had confined herself in her office since eight in the morning. The past three and a half hours were full of Rhea loudly yelling at her teammates. Half the time you couldn’t even tell if she was celebrating with or ridiculing the others.

You walked up behind Rhea’s chair and placed your hands over her broad shoulders. You could hear the voices of your shared colleagues blaring through Rhea’s headset as you rested your chin on the top of her head, watching her play Call of Duty: Warzone. 

“I think you should spend some time with me instead of playing your stupid games all day.” You proclaimed, “We could go shopping, go for a walk, and have lunch…” You dreamed, rubbing Rhea’s shoulders.

“Later baby.” Rhea said quietly, making sure her mic wouldn’t pick up your conversation. You huffed and moved your hands to steal Rhea’s headset from her head causing a puzzled noise to come from her mouth. 

“Alright who’s the one that’s stealing my girlfriend from me?” You playfully asked, Rhea’s attention was still focused on the round she was playing. 

Dom and Damian were on the other end of the voice call, Damian was quick to place the blame on Dominik. “Woah woah woah! This isn’t fair, I’m innocent!” Dom complained, faking being offended.

“Dude, you literally spam texted the group chat for three minutes straight at eight in the morning.” Damian accused as he let out a deep chuckle. 

“I believe it, Dom, you are always at the scene of the crime. Now I’d like it if you all would hurry up so I can enjoy the afternoon with my girlfriend.” You played with the two guys. 

Dominik threw a mini tantrum in reaction to him dying in the game, “You guys seriously just made me die! Just for that I’m making sure Rhea’s staying online all day.” 

“We did not make you die! Maybe you’re just bad at the game!!!” You quickly said before returning the headset to Rhea, hearing Dom’s faint complaints. 

Rhea let out a scoffed laugh as she helped Damian win the round, “Too easy, let’s play ranked.” Rhea’s words caused you to groan as you moved to stand next to her. “Rheaaaa,” You pestered, squatting next to her chair.

“Just one more game I promise.” Rhea stated, her eyes looking over and down at you. “We both know how that's gonna end. One game is gonna turn into two and two games is gonna turn into six games.” You whined as Rhea ran her hand through your hair.

Rhea didn’t respond to your gripes, she instead turned her concentration back to her screens, leaving you pouting. But you needed her attention, you’d do anything to get that attention and you had the perfect idea.

From your squatting position you got on your hands and knees and crawled under Rhea’s desk. Rhea glanced down at you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you spread her legs apart. “The hell are you doing?” Rhea aggressively asked, her hand covering her microphone while your hands slowly slid her sweatpants off.

“Play your game mami. I know you want to.” You taunted, looking up at her with puppy eyes. Rhea cocked her eyebrow as her eyes returned to her game.

You ran your finger over Rhea’s panties while peppering kisses over her tattoo covered thighs, causing her breath to hitch while she spoke about the match with the boys. 

Your hands carefully pulled your girlfriend's panties off as you looked up at her, her eyes fighting to focus on her screen. 

Your mouth hovered inches from Rhea’s warmth as you blew a soft gush of air against her wetness, a sharp gasp came from the woman who was trying to save her team from a loss.

“Jesus,” Rhea quietly cursed out under her breath once your tongue finally made contact with her sensitive skin. “Everything alright Rhea?” You could hear Damian's question leak from the headset. “Yeah, all good. Just uh-” Rhea cleared her throat, searching for an excuse as your tongue began roaming between her folds. “Just frustrated with the match…”

Your hands faintly ran up and down Rhea’s spread legs, your mouth beginning to focus on her entrance. Your nose pressed against her clit as you took in her sweetness, causing Rhea to narrow her eyes in pleasure.

You watched as the woman struggled to keep her attention on her screen, your tongue swirling around her entrance, occasionally slipping inside her. Rhea’s mind began slipping away from her, resulting in her character dying. 

“Shit sorry- you guys f-finish this round,” Rhea sighed through shaky breaths before muting her mic. She looked down to you as she leaned back in her chair. “God damn you’re such a brat.” She moaned, taking a fistfull of your hair. She held your head in place as she began grinding herself onto your face. The intensity of her eye contact had created a pool between your legs. Quiet groans left her throat as she helped herself to your mouth.

Rhea’s deep moans were soon interrupted by both the boys yelling her name. She reluctantly let go of your hair before looking back up and unmuting herself. “Yeah, I’m here sorry.” she mumbled as your fingers inched up between her legs.

“Last round…don’t fuck around this time.” You could hear Damian warn before Dominik added on, “Dude, you lost like…all your skills last round, what is going on with you?”

“Yeah yeah. Don’t worry I’m all in t-this match.” Rhea struggled, holding back a moan as your pointer and middle finger snuck into her tightness.

You couldn't help but chuckle at how seriously the three of them took the game. “Yeah mami, don’t lose this round.” You quietly teased the woman causing her eyes to dart down to you as if to say ‘watch your mouth’. 

Once the match had officially begun you connected your lips to Rhea’s swollen clit meanwhile your fingers began exploring her insides. 

Rhea let out multiple profanities as the match progressed, attempting to replace the sound of pleasure with the sound of frustration towards the game. The guys were already suspicious of her behavior, the last thing she needed was to moan in the middle of a match. 

You continued letting your mouth and fingers play with Rhea causing her legs to tighten around your head. “Fuck-” She quietly grumbled in reaction to your fingers picking up their pace. 

“God damnit! I’m out.” Dominik yelled in frustration. 

You hummed against Rhea’s cunt, her face plastered with the look of pleasure as her legs began shaking. 

“They got me too. There's only one dude left on the opposite team, just be careful around corners.” Damian complained out.

“Just you left Rhea come on!” Dom egged on. 

Rhea’s muscles began tensing up, her breathing intensified as she began the hunt for her final opponent. 

She had found her target. Her eyes locked in on their hitbox as your fingers began curling while you thrusted in and out of her.

“Oh-Fuck! Shit!” Rhea yelled out, her orgasm hitting her as she took her final shots, winning the game. You heard cheers come from her headphones as she looked down at you with heavy breaths. 

You helped Rhea ride out her orgasm, slowing down the pace of your fingers and removing your mouth from her clit. 

She shook her head at you as you removed your fingers from her warmth and began sucking them clean.

“Guys, something came up. I gotta go.” Rhea urged out. She wouldn’t let the boys even get one word in before leaving the call. Rhea slowly stood up from her seat and began pulling you out from under the table.

“Soooo, shopping?” You sweetly asked, batting your eyelashes as you stood up. “You think you’re shopping after that stunt?” Rhea scoffed, cocking her eyebrow. She picked you up and threw you over her shoulder before taunting, “Darling, You're gonna be in that bedroom all day.”

[deadghosy]

Hiii

Could you write slytherin with plus size reader who is insecure? (Strech marks, belly, big thighs etc)

If you're comfortable writting it if not feel free to ignore 🖤

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

A/N: now I’m not plus size, so I hope I wrote this well. And OF COURSE I FEEL COMFORTABLE TO WRITE THIS! I have stretch marks and big thighs myself, and wear them with pride and I hope others can too also! Love all my plus size followers! 🫶🏾

Edit: idk if you meant a single Slytherin boys or you meant them all 😭 so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want but I included all the Slytherin boys here. 💗 hope you like them anon!

Tom Riddle

Tom honestly loves your stretch marks

So when you feel insecure about them, he will always tell you stories about these beautiful cracks he seen years ago.

He had hope it made you see your own stretch marks as the cracks he has seen in their own beautiful way

He loves you and your body. You are your own person

Mattheo Riddle

Would fight anyone who made you insecure

But if it was you who made yourself insecure. He’s kissing whatever made you insecure. He loves your body! He loves you!

So please, you being insecure is normal. But it makes him sad how you can’t see how beautiful you are in your own way

"You're perfect the way you are."

Draco Malfoy

Well make anyone’s school life in Hogwarts hell so easily if they try to make you feel bad about your body.

Will always compliment you on the days you feel the worse

He will shut down anyone who dares to speak about your body. Not on his watch any so.

Worships your body as if you raised the stars and moon. He loves you so much

"It's not easy to love yourself when the world seems to be constantly telling you that you're not good enough. But I believe in you." He says kissing your lips.

Blaise Zabini

He makes you lay down when you are insecure, he makes sure he is taking care of you.

He can’t have his baby being all down? No he can’t.

He’s literally making you have a self care day.

"You're beautiful and worthy of love, no matter what others may think or say." He says running his fingers through your hair.

Theodore Nott

Just like Mattheo, he’s beating anyone’s ass that makes you make you uncomfortable about your body

But he literally will kiss the floor on what you walk on. He loves you so much, so if you are insecure he’s kissing your belly and telling how unique you are in your way

He really is smooth and careful of his words

He can’t help but love you all🫶🏾

Lorenzo Berkshire

If you insecure out of now where. He’s immediately doing anything to make you happen all over again

He hates how you stare at your thick thighs with a look in your eyes

He can’t help but lay between your legs and say “squash me, pour all of the negativity onto me” so you just laugh. And you did since it was dumb and stupid. But then you watched a movie. He still watched over you carefully.

He is always comfortable with you. So he hopes you get comfortable in your own body. 💗

[lastoneout]

Honestly, I don't say it often bcs I know how this site is but I really do think for a lot of survivors of abuse, especially abuse that went on for years and years, sometimes the message "it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong/to deserve this" while ABSOLUTELY TRUE* isn't actually super helpful. For a lot of us there's a LOT of guilt tied into it, and even if things were truly out of our hands we will not be able to accept that we are truly blameless, at least not at first, and maybe for some of us not ever. So being told "no dw you didn't do anything wrong <3 <3 you're innocent" feels...idk like some toxic positivity style lies. It doesn't make me feel better, because I still do feel like there were things that happened that were my fault, that were in my control, even an ethicist or god or whoever could look me dead in the eyes, weigh all the facts, and assure me of my complete innocence, and I still wouldn't believe it. (Tbh, you have to be ready to forgive yourself and trying to force it early does more harm than good.)

And I occasionally see movies and shows and stuff get roasted all to hell for having the audacity to go with a different message, to offer abused characters not a platitude about how they are innocent and should forgive themselves asap, but instead say "so what if it was your fault? so what if you fucked up? you're still alive, you still have time, your mistakes(or perceived mistakes) don't make you irredeemable scum who deserves to suffer, it's okay that you fucked up, what matters is what you do next, and even if the horrible thing was your fault in one way or another or you did actually hurt people, you still did NOT deserve to be hurt in turn" because people think that is like, admitting that the person in question is at fault when they almost always aren't....but as an actual survior, I'm sorry, you can tell me I'm innocent till the cows come home and I won't believe it. What I need to hear is that even if it was my fault I didn't deserve to be treated that way. I still deserve help. I deserve to keep going. I am not forever stained by my mistakes. I deserve a future free from this pain.

I think before we look at things in this like...grand moral way where we try to make sure we're sending the most Correct and Healthy Message Possible, sometimes it's worth asking if that message is actually the one the people it's about need to hear. I'm sure for some people it is very freeing to be told it's not their fault, but that kind of message does not resonate with me. And I, as well as people like me, deserve to expirience stories about us that are cathartic, that resonate, that make us feel seen, and to not have to see everyone and their mom throw a fit because what helps us is "problematic".

Anyway this has been mulling around in my head for a while and I def have a lot more to say about the way guilt manifests in trauma born of abuse, but yeah I just feel like this is something that should be talked about when we bring up abuse narratives and how well written they are and if they send the Correct Message, because the "Correct Message" is never going to be the same for everyone. And that's true of ANY demographic you could choose to represent!

Like some disabled people might enjoy the "magically healed" trope while others find it offensive. Some trans people like stories where transitioning is easy as drinking a potion or getting a fancy futuristic surgery and some find that that trivializes their struggles. Some queer people want stories where there's just no homophobia at all, others find that a world without it feels fake and patronizing. Some women do want to read stories about how keeping hearth and home is noble and empowering and others want read about women who have other jobs and never have kids or get married. For some of us "you're beautiful no matter what" is lovely and some of us just want to be told being fat and hairy and having acne and scars and shit is normal and fine. Or, like the last post I reblogged says, sometimes "you're not a burden" doesn't hit as well as "being a burden isn't a bad thing". No one type of representation is ever going to work for everyone, and that doesn't mean one type of rep is objectively wrong and the other is objectively right.

So yeah, the next time you find yourself angry because you think a story is sending the wrong message about a marginalized or harmed group, maybe stop for a second to ask yourself if it's actually harmful...or if you're not the person who the story is speaking to, and if there's someone it is talking to who desperately needs to hear what it has to say.

(*Getting ahead of this now: Do not put words in my mouth. I am not saying that any abused person in any way deserved their abuse or was at fault for it happening, that is not up for debate. The fault is always in the hands of the person who chose to hurt them. I'm just saying it's nuanced and complicated and guilt is a huge fucking issue that survivors have to deal with all the time and it's not wrong to acknowledge that some of us are always going to feel like we did something wrong and not be eased by being told otherwise even if the person saying it is 100% correct and/or means well. I do not have time for people who are going to willfully misinterpret me. You will be blocked.)

[shaunamilfman]

Me when I see your domestic Shauna hcs and immediately decide I need a Nat version so this is my formal request for some

If you want to ofc no pressure I just love your writing

-📝

Domestic Nat Headcanons

pairing: Nat Scatorccio x Reader note: no crash au. nat in her 20's. idk why i answered this so quick tbh

in my mind, Nat's a bartender. maybe opens her own bar one day in the future so she can get away with giving a few free drinks to people that aren't assholes. she charges the assholes double, of course. 

sleeps till like 2 every day and has black-out curtains over every window in her apartment. if you like natural sunlight, your ass is going to have to go outside. 

if you're asleep by the time she gets home, your ass will be waking up. she never does it on purpose, she just has no idea how loud she really is. humming quietly in the shower after work and not even thinking about the fact that the wall would amplify it. you don't have the heart to tell her to stop. 

on the flip side, she never really gets that annoyed if you wake her up while she's asleep. just rolls her eyes as you get up, and pretends not to be pleased when you kiss her forehead. immediately rolls back over and falls right back asleep. it's almost impressive how quick she is. 

blasts music while she's getting ready, or doing just about anything that allows her too. you're always coming home to her gaming and blasting music on her days off. 

night owl even on her days off, always has been. it's a rare sight to see her up before noon, and it's only if you or one of her friends specifically asked her. leaving the house with her sunglasses on and almost hissing at the sun. 

Nat can't cook for shit except for a few staple foods that she'd eat every meal if you'd let her. she's not necessarily bad at it, she just doesn't really have the patience for it. 

her space constantly looks like a hurricane came through it, but she always miraculously knows where everything is. if you try to organize it for her, she'll be so lost. messes it back up the second your back is turned. 

You constantly catch her in the middle of the night making the weirdest snack combination known to man. If the sight of her eating it doesn't make you want to gag, then she's not doing it right. 

has a half feral cat with some mean ass name like ‘bastard’ or some shit that she leaves food out for. she saved his life when he got stuck and almost starved, and got permanent scars as a thank you. the cat comes and goes as he please, and neither of you are sure how he's getting in or out. 

she always pretends the scars were from something much cooler whenever somebody asks. it's a different story every time. you think she must have a list somewhere she adds to when she gets bored. they're starting to get really creative. 

you witness the cat getting into a nasty street fight with another cat and Nat's just like “hell yeah, go bastard!”

the first time you visited Nat's apartment, the only furniture she had in the living room was a beanbag chair and a TV setup propped up on a box. gallantly offers you the bean bag chair as she eats on the floor cross-legged next to you. 

she insists that she was always going to get more furniture and that it was just temporary, but you're not so sure. the first thing she buys is this beat to shit couch that's somehow the most comfortable thing you've ever sat on. she's so proud of it. 

if you didn't force her to get more, Nat would only own one fork, one spoon, one plate, etc. insists that she can just watch them.

likes going out with your or her friends, but isn't as much of a fan of hosting the events. makes it harder to just leave when she starts getting tired of them. always tried to make you be the bad guy whenever she wants to go. “sorry guys, she's tired.” meanwhile you're wide awake. 

Nat's really good at fixing things, mostly out of necessity. still, if something’s busted, there's a good chance Nat's already on her way to the hardware store to get parts before you've even noticed. she really enjoys the process of fixing shit and ends up getting really into cars because of it. if it wasn't for the hours, she'd consider being a mechanic. 

absolute coffee fiend. you rarely see her without a cup. only drinks it black and will turn her nose up at the sugary stuff. she's not pretentious about it though, it's just how she likes it. 

Nat randomly comes home with little gifts for you, tossing it at you without really acknowledging it. if you press her on it she'll say some shit like “saw it and thought of you.” 

she's not a big fan of surprises. she has a bit of a routine and whenever there's a major interruption to it she gets a little antsy. with the way Nat grew up ,she really appreciates knowing just about how her days going to go before she starts it. 

Nat really enjoys watching movies with you. it doesn't really matter what it is as long as she can just turn her brain off and watch. she likes physical contact, but isn't super big on cuddling per se. the type to lift your legs up into her lap when you're laying across the couch.

[dunmeshistash]

As of... actually several episodes ago but more so on this episode, I'm starting to think there's something (a reason/correlation?) to the anime not going all out on the animation (youd think ep23 part 1 would have gotten more attention) or when its not doing a 100% panel-for-panel adaptation of the manga (ie cutting out gags and some other parts)

Its almost like the anime is slightly just a little maybe advertising the manga? but idk, you dont really get this feeling if youve never read the manga. It only torments those who have who know what's in the manga that the anime-only's are missing out on. and there's also the dungeon tidbits that dont/havent been adapted that expand more on the story.

lets be real tho, some things in the manga just would not translate as effectively into anime. (ie the manga covers that look raw as all hell)

tl;dr i have a feeling the anime is not doing the manga 100% perfect justice because animation restraints AND it wants you to read the manga as well.

I've actually been thinking about that too. But objectively I think the dungeon meshi anime is effective/overall good adaptation of the manga.

The feeling of "NOO IT'S MISSING X THING" as far as I can tell is only for people who have read the manga, everyone else doesn't seem to feel there's a lack of quality. I call it the cursed knowledge of the manga lol.

The fact is that the manga is just PACKED full of so many details an adaptation that has ALL of it is just impossible, and trigger's anime isn't necessarily bad just because it doesn't have it <- I say begrudgingly cause I wish it had all

From what I can tell they have been pacing themselves within their budget/time constraints and focusing on what the medium of animation can serve the best to compliment the manga, which is action scenes, they seem to be focusing most of their efforts into giving us BREATHTAKING animations during the action and honest I LOVE IT.

I recommend @swampjawn's animation breakdowns if you wanna really appreciate it in a more technical aspect, its so good.

But another thing I've been noticing is how much content Ryoko Kui does related to the anime? Like the merch, the blu-ray boxes the collabs. Is that something common at all? The manga author doing so much content related to the anime of their work?

Maybe it's an exception cause she finished publishing Dungeon Meshi before the anime came out but I hope that her gorgeous art inspires people to read it.

Anyway I'm not sure if trigger is on purpose doing "manga advertisement" but just where I believe they'll stop this season is probably gonna make a lot of people want to read so it's a win in my book.

[81folklore]

call it what you want- STROLL

pairings: lance stroll x streamer!reader (fc: sagemommy69)

summary: streamer yn gets on gossip sites for supposedly dating a driver, due to her being close friends with max fewtrell people assume shes dating lando, she shuts that rumor down pretty quickly

authors note: this was based on this request. i honestly wasnt sure where this was going so i hope its alright, didnt really have any motivation but knew i needed to get it done so🤷 also incase you dont know ‘bob’ is the name lando goes by on max’s and friends streams

authors note 2: kinda short, kinda sweet idk. i did this in about an hour and ive already found a few mistakes in the stream highlights but i deleted everything so you will have to make do! reminder that requests are open but currently only working on social media au requests or any that i can turn into smaus (also if you have a song/artistin mind please put that in your request along with a faceclaim if you have one!!)

masterlist

duexmoi added to their story

yourusername

liked by max_fewtrell, tokibbi and 1,263,719 others

teaching max_fewtrell valo and then 5 stack w/ max, jollz, toki + josh!! live on twitch 💐

view comments

user7 ahh ive missed the streams!!

max_fewtrell i feel underprepared

yourusername you better hope your not we need you to carry

user88 excited for max to play valo

yourusername get ready for some wonderful reyna gameplay

user26 THE FLOWERS..MOTHERS GETTING TREATED GOOD

user6 only recently started following, who are they from?

user26 honestly no idea, shes never posted them before😭

tokibbi 🩵🩵

your stream highlights

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, joshseki and 1,729,179 others

i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck not because he owns me, but because he really knows me💐

tagged: lance_stroll

view comments

user55 HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

user7 she really saw the lando rumors still flying and said ‘no.’

user61 THEYRE SO CUTE WHATBTHE HELL

user88 SHE LOVES HIM😭HE LOVES HER😭

user12 theyre both 3 apples tall🤏

max_fewtrell why are you kissing on my timeline

yourusername this is what happens when people think i’d date bob

lance_stroll my babys fly like a jet stream

yourusername HIGH ABOVE THE WHOLE SCENE LOVES ME LIKE IM BRAND NEW

lance_stroll i love you!!

yourusername i love YOU!!

landonorris which is more than they can say🎶

yourusername 🚨swiftie alert🚨

landonorris reputation and 1989 are bangers

yourusername so real and true lando norris

user60 i love how we’re all pretending these two make sense and we arent shocked😭😭

user27 RIGHT?? why are we pretending we were expecting it??

joshseki tell max im never playing valorant with him again

yourusername max_fewtrell hes basically saying you sucked

max_fewtrell not fair..reyna was harder than i expected

user8 this is literally the most insane post, we have yn + lance, lance being a swiftie, LANDO?? being a swiftie and loving 1989 and rep (TASTE) and then max and yn arguing😭

[insomniactic-daydream]

Magma- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.2)

<- (Previous Pt.1)

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader

Summary: After taking on the responsibility of fixing Bakugo gauntlets, Y/n Todoroki now has to deal with Bakugo nosy ass questions and remarks.

For Background Info: This is before any major events like the usj or sports festival. I don't think anybody know about Shoto's fire quirk til then. Correct me if I'm wrong but idk

Also for story purposes Y/n has black hair and as well as the infamous blue todoroki eyes.

"So your quirk is Nitroglycerin? Are you constantly sweating, or can you control the output? " Y/n questions Bakugo as they are seated away from their classmates at lunch. Bakugo agitated from so many questions. Why couldn't you just fix his shit.

"Tch. Yes, and I can control it, you idiot. But sometimes, the stupid weather makes it harder to produce sweat." He says, grumbling eating his food.

Y/n nods as she writes down a few words in her notebook.

"Do you know what kind of metal was used to make your gauntlets?" Y/n asks.

"HAH? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW!? You're the damn epxert you tell me!" Bakugo yells but is lost through the volume of the cafeteria. Gauntlets are now thrown out to you on the table.

"Jeez, relax. You'd think you would be more cooperative if you wanted them done quickly." Y/n sighs as she examines the shatter gauntlets.

"I'm tired of your damn questions. Maybe you should've gotten your brother's quirk and become a hero. That way, you'd talk less and actually do more!" Bakugo yell. His words were almost comical to you. Assuming you didn't have an impressive quick cause you're a support student.

Y/n not looking away from gauntlets. "You're totally right, but then I'd still have to deal with you constant yelling. At least I don't have to deal with you longer than I have to." She says as she grabs her notebook again.

" WHY YOU LITTLE-"

"It's the metal." Y/n cuts him off nonchalantly. As if she's dealt with his yelps for a millennia. Surprisingly, stopping Bakugo. After all, he's a man of knowledge. The more he knows about his gauntlets, the less he has to deal with coming to you to fix them.

"Continue Nerd." He says with gritted teeth

"The metal they used, although used for most fire type and explosive quirks, isn't compatible with your quirk chemicals. That's why they broke the second you used too much of your sweat." She says taking a bite of her food out of accomplishment.

"So what then huh?! How are you going to fix it."

"Well, obviously need new material which is good considering this metal is known to be heavier than most. Not that you'd noticed cause you're a 'so strong' hero student." Y/n says sarcastically. Bakugo glares at her, but before he can chew her out she speaks again.

"I can look into a different material to make entirely new gauntlets, but that's going to take a while to make. The best I can do for you right now is fix these for training, but you can't blast another nuclear bomb at someone again." She finishes as she fiddles with her pencil

"That shit sound it's going to take ages!?" He says angrily out of the thought of not receiving new gear for the next few months at least.

"Well, luckily, a lava quirk and ice quirk do pretty well with speeding the progress of mending metal then, huh?" Y/n says with a smirk.

"Relax. If I'm getting a grade for this, then I'll make sure you're first priority." Y/n says with a wave of a hand before taking another spoonful of food.

"You have a fucking lava quirk?" Bakugo asks. Although he isn't much as a nerd as his childhood rival he can't help but be curious.

"Yup. It was my grandmother's quirk before the quirk de-evolved into flames." Y/n says

"What a waste. You can easily be better than your brother's ice quirk." Bakugo states almost if he's complimenting you. That sure is a first, but again, Bakugo can't ignore potential people who can be better heroes than him.

"I'm flattered but I don't really care for heroics. I help the world by helping you all. It's more humble that most of the show boat heroes today." She grumbles out.

"So you think you're dad is some show boat?" Bakugo pushes almost trying to gain information (more like drama) on the number 2 hero. Y/n, catching his trick, glares at him.

Bakugo catches a glimpse of red streaks of lava, appearing in your hair. He smirks as he realizes he has striked a nerve.

"I never said that." She says annoyedly. As if she was going to open up about her family dynamic to him.

"Easy there, magma, or your hair is gonna blow a gasket." He says with his signature smirk. His red eyes meeting Y/n piercing blue glare.

His word hit Y/n as fast as her hair turns back. "Shut up," Y/n mutters. She then touches her hair out of habit

This surprisingly lets out a chuckle from the blonde. "Tch. At least I'm not the one who is a walking volcano. Do you always have to cool that shit down?" He asks, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

"Not that's it's any of your business, but yes." She mumbles.

"Hah. I bet you struggle using product on that rat's nest you call hair." Bakugo jokingly lies.

He thinks your hair is fine. Flawless even. Not one out of place hair. But he won't admit that to you. If anything, he's curious to see how long it would take him to see you're hair completely turned into lava. Red suited you.

However, you didn't take that remark lightly and threw a piece of his broken gauntlets at him. Causing him to snap back to reality and hold his head in pain (and also anger obvi)

"As if I'd listen to you, pomeranian!"

(Next Part 3) ->

What can I say, I love a good harmless enemies to lovers trope. 🤷‍♀️

[janeyseymour]

personal and professional 1-3 was soooooo good it gave me an idea!

a mel x work crush reader story in which cute shy fem reader has a sleeper build. usually wearing regular lose fit clothing until one day they have to wear a fancy skirt and heels bringing attention to readers muscular legs. abbott crew starts asking reader questions about her workout routine leading a jealous melissa to make a snarky comment about reader skipping arm day to which reader says something like don’t let the outfit fool you i could bench you right now heels and all. melissa keeps pushing readers buttons until reader grabs melissa and starts overhead pressing with absolutely no issue to prove their point leaving melissa stunned. idk maybe it ends with melissa asking reader on a date that day after school?

Press You (Up Against a Wall)

WC: 3.3k

You were hired as the long term substitute gym teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School in January, but when the teacher who was out on maternity leave decided to leave the position permanently- that she can’t even believe she stayed there throughout her pregnancy in the first place- you were brought on for the full-time position. So, now you’re Abbott’s official gym teacher, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

Really, any physical education teacher position is a score in your mind because showing up to school in sweatpants or joggers everyday is any teacher’s dream come true. But Abbott is so nice because you can pretty much do whatever you want with the kids- including dodgeball, which is banned at most schools. 

Under all of your gym clothes, you have a nice body- you’ll be the first one to admit that. Working out six days a week along with having a well balanced diet doesn’t go to waste. None of the teachers, or Ava for that matter, know that you’re a bit of a gym rat- okay, a really big gym rat. Sure, they know you’re athletic and that you’re slim, but they haven’t seen your legs- probably the best part about your body. You’re thankful for that because up until now, you’ve evaded the principal’s flirtatious personality and comments. 

The only person who knows how in shape you are is Mr. Johnson because you help him move things or fix things when necessary. He’s immensely grateful and has promised to keep your hidden figure a secret- he knows how you don’t want to be hit on like Gregory is.

But now, you’re being forced to go to PECSA, and you really don’t know why you have to go, but the school is paying for your hotel room, and you don’t have to attend any of the seminars based on curriculum because you don’t teach any of the core subjects (you had thoughts on that title… physical education was one of the most important for those kids to be participating in if they wanted to grow to be strong and healthy adults).

So while everyone else is supposed to be at their seminars, you sleep in before heading down to the gym to get your daily workout in.

After you’re finished, you head back up to your hotel room and shower before changing into an old band t-shirt, a light sweatshirt, and a pair of joggers. Deciding that you have enough time to explore and just soak everything in, you exit your hotel room.

As you go to back away from your door, so is Melissa Schemmenti- donned in a bathing suit as opposed to the clothes that she should be clad in to attend different seminars.

“Hey, Schemmenti,” you look her up and down. 

“Y/N,” Melissa looks you up and down too. “Don’t tell anyone, but Barb ’n’ I haven’t gone to a single one of those dumb jawns. All for the newbies.”

You mime zipping your lips before letting out a chuckle. “You’ll be at the big party though, right?”

“Hell yeah I will be. I have a math-o-rita chugging champion title to maintain,” she smirks.

“Good. I don’t think I could survive the Abbott crew without you to keep me company,” you blush as you tell her that. “Not that I don’t like the others, but… you know what I mean.”

“I gotchu,” she smiles. “Just stick with me and Barb, and you’ll be fine.”

You nod. “You mind if I join you now?”

“If you can get changed in the next few-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna swim, I just wanna relax in the presence of others,” you lie a little. You really just want to be in her presence.

You and her meet the kindergarten teacher down by the pool, and Barb’s eyes widen just slightly when she sees that Melissa brought you.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she still greets you kindly. “Decided to ditch the seminars?”

“I don’t have to go to most of them,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. “Just the ones that have to do with PBIS and all of that. Other than that, I’ve just been kind of wandering. Saw Melissa, and I tagged along.”

“And she didn’t tell you to beat it?” Barbara raises a brow.

Melissa shrugs. “She looked like a lost puppy dog, so I took her under my wing.”

Little do you or Barbara know, she has had quite the thing for you since you first walked into the building and greeted her while she was bringing her kids down to special. And then when you spoke to her so shyly, but then she could hear you command the gymnasium to gain control of her class- it really struck a chord with her, and she was taken with you. She would never tell you that, and actually was a bit tougher on you than she was with others, but you have her figured out. She seems to be a bit tougher on those she likes rather than just ignore the ones who she tolerates or just genuinely doesn’t enjoy the presence of. 

“I can go if-”

“You’re with us now. Don’t be an idiot,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Okay, okay.”

You relax in the lounge chair next to her, and you have to admit it’s a little warmer than you were anticipating it being in here (foolishly… it’s an indoor pool area, what we’re you expecting?). So you shrug off your jacket, tie your hair up, and hike your sweatpants up to your knees.

If Barbara and Melissa notice your calves, they don’t say anything.

You end up falling asleep with your arms protectively wrapped around yourself, and you don’t wake until you feel someone gently shaking you.

“Hun, it’s time to get up.” You jolt awake, clearly terrified as your eyes go wide and your breathing gets deeper for a second. But then you look up, and there’s… well, there’s Melissa’s cleavage in your face, and then a bit further up are her emerald eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s ‘kay,” you mumble as you yawn and stretch a bit. “Sorry I fell asleep on youse.”

“Aye, no problem at all,” she smiles down at you. “Just didn’t wanna leave you down here to think Barb and I abandoned ship, but we’re gonna start getting ready for the party.”

“I guess I should too,” you sigh softly as you stand.

You and the redhead head up to your rooms and start to get ready.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. You really just throw on the dress you brought- one that accentuates your legs- before applying a light amount of makeup. You run your fingers through your hair as you glance in the mirror. You look good. Deciding that you would rather not kill your feet just yet though, you wait to put on your heels.

A bit later, you hear a knock on your door as you’re laying in bed and scrolling through Instagram. You stand and make your way to the door before looking out the peephole. It’s Melissa, and she looks… stunning. Her hair is in big curls, and she has a beautiful green dress on that only makes her eyes pop even more.

“Hey,” you breathe out softly. “You look… wow.”

She gives you a once over. “I could say the same things about you.”

Your cheeks turn red at her compliment and her lingering eyes on your body.

“You ready? I want a math-o-rita in my hand, and the lines will get ridiculous later on,” she tells you. “And this way we can save a table for our group.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly as you continue to stare at her. “Just let me put on my shoes.”

She nods as she leans against the doorframe and watches. Then, you give her a nod, make sure you have your lipgloss and keycard, and head out.

When you get down there, she immediately heads towards the bar and quickly returns with two drinks in hand. She hands one to you, and the two of you clink your glasses together. You take a nice swig of it in hopes of relaxing. By the time the rest of your group joins you, both of you are on your second drink.

“You two are here early,” Barbara notes as she looks between the two of you. “Are we interrupting something?”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We got here a little early to get a table.”

“You both look so nice!” Janine grins from next to her work mother.

You smile at her politely. “You as well.”

“I never really took you for a gym rat, although I suppose I should’ve,” Gregory chuckles. “Damn.”

“Seriously,” Jacob eyes you. “In the most gay way possible, I am looking respectfully.”

“What’s your workout routine?” Gregory asks you.

Happy to talk about anything other than work, you begin to list off the various leg exercises you do. Almost everyone is hanging onto your every word. At least that’s what it looks like. They’re all looking at you like you’re a star- all except the one you want to be looking at you: Melissa. She instead picking at her nails and sipping at her drink. The truth of it is, she is also listening to every word, and she’s beginning to get jealous of the way that everyone is ogling you and your legs. She doesn’t want that to show.

When you’re finished, she bites back a laugh. “Guess we skip arm days?”

“Don’t let the outfit fool you,” you chuckle. “My arms may look small, but they’re defined.”

“Compared to your legs,” she rolls her eyes.

“I could bench you,” you laugh back. “Heels and all.”

“Now that is something that I would love to see,” Barbara chuckles. She ignores the death glare your redheaded coworker sends her way.

“You will not,” Melissa states. “Not in this dress.”

“Maybe I’ll just do some bicep curls with you in my arms then,” you challenge her.

“I doubt you could,” she bites out. “Not with those chicken arms.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll see.”

“Sure I will.”

She continues to push your buttons throughout the night, and with the alcohol that you’ve taken in, she teases you.

“Couldn’t press me now, could you?”

“I could press you up against a wall,” you flirt shamelessly, liquid courage acting as your friend.

Her cheeks turn a violent shade of pink, and you grin.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you smirk. “I meant that I could squat against the wall and lift you up over my head.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” she scolds you.

You shrug your shoulders innocently. “You’ll never know what I meant, now will you?”

After another round of drinks, she’s still teasing you. You finally decide that you want to put her incessant comments to and end. So, you sweep her off of her feet, heels and all. You make sure that her dress is appropriate before doing a few bicep curls with her in your arms.

She’s stunned, to say the least.

And then, with one little jerk, she’s up over your head. You bring her back down to your arms and hold her there.

“You ready to shut up yet?” you tease her, looking down at her lips.

Her eyes are wide and clearly impressed. She can’t even find the words right now.

“You ready?” you ask again.

She just nods her head, and you set her back down on her feet. You keep an arm around her until she’s found her footing again.

“That was really hot,” Jacob states. You jump slightly, not realizing he was there. “In the least creepy way possible. I had no idea you were that strong.”

“Most people don’t,” you chuckle as you down the rest of your drink. You wink at Melissa as you make your way over to the bar. “I got the next round. Another math-o-rita?”

She nods again as she makes her way back to your table. Barbara is sitting there with a smirk. “She put on quite the show.”

The redhead’s eyes linger on you as you stand at the bar and try to get the attention of the bartender. “Yeah,” she hums noncommittally.

“Girl, when are you just going to ask her out?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

That pulls Melissa out of her trance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve seen the way you stare at her and the pep in your step when your kids have gym,” Barbara snorts. “Even in just her joggers and Abbott sweatshirt. You like her.”

“I mean, yeah… she’s a nice woman,” the second grade teacher tries to brush off her friend’s assumption.

“No, you like her.”

“So what if I do?” Melissa asks as she folds her arms over her chest. “There ain’t no way she would ever like me back.”

“She’s been practically drooling over you since she saw you in your swimsuit earlier today, and she’s currently buying you a drink,” Barbara laughs.

“We’ve bought each other drinks before.”

“But I don’t drool over you in a bathing suit, and I know you don’t drool over me,” the kindergarten teacher snorts. “Just ask her out.”

“Maybe when I’m sober,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

You start to make your way back over, and the redhead can’t help the way that she watches your hips sway.

“You’re drooling,” Barbara nudges her friend.

“Shut up,” Melissa laughs. She takes the drink that you offer her with a grin. The two of you raise your glasses in a toast before you link arms and chug.

You wipe the liquid that had made its way around your mouth with a chuckle. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll still be able to lift ya, no problem.”

You wrap your arm around her waist and squeeze her hip gently, the liquid courage once again taking over.

She blushes, but she quickly gets swept away by Derek, challenging her to yet another math-o-rita chugging challenge.

That leaves you and Barbara sitting at the table together.

“So,” the kindergarten teacher nudges you. “When are you gonna make a move on that redhead you were curling earlier?”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When are you gonna ask her out? I heard you tell her you could press her up against a wall, and you and I both know you didn’t mean that in an innocent way,” she chuckles.

You shrug. “Maybe when I’m positive she likes me. I ain’t about to make a fool out of myself and then have to work with her.”

“I think she made it pretty clear she likes you with the way she’s been practically undressing you with her eyes all night,” the kindergarten teacher tells you. 

You laugh. “No she hasn’t.” When she raises a brow and hits you with the trademarked Barbara Howard look, you sigh. “Okay, maybe when we’re both sober… if I can ever work up the nerve.”

“Just give it some thought, sweetheart,” Barb tells you. “Melissa… she’s a tough cookie, but she’s got the biggest heart I know of, and as much as she tries not to, she wears it on her sleeve.”

You nod thoughtfully before smiling. “You think she’d say yes to a date with me?”

“No question,” your colleague tells you.

You think on it for a second, and you go to speak again- to tell Barbara that you might just ask her tonight- when you hear Melissa loudly calling your name.

“Hun! I need a cheerleader so I can absolutely kick Derek’s ass again!”

You look over in her direction and raise a brow, questionably.

“Please, babe!”

Oh, you know she’s so drunk. You can’t ask her out on a date, a serious one, when she’s as hammered as she is. You roll your eyes playfully but saunter over.

She slings an arm around your waist before she gets another drink. Without any hesitation, she chugs the entirety of it before Derek can finish even half of his. You’re impressed to say the least. After she slams down the empty glass to prove she’s finished, she kisses your cheek in celebration.

Not that either of you know it, but Barbara has a video of it.

It’s a bit longer before the two of you finally decide to retire to your rooms for the night… you’re both quite a bit intoxicated, and the redhead practically hangs off of you as you help her down the hall.

Of course, when you go to turn to your own room, she grabs your arm. “Come in?”

“Yeah, I can,” you tell her gently. “Just let me change, and I’ll be over.”

She gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you insist. “Mel, I really don’t want to be in this dress longer than I have to be.”

“But you look… stunning.”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I would like to get comfortable.”

She relents and turns into her own room. When you knock on her door again, she’s still in her dress though, with the sweetest frown on her face.

“I can’t get out of this,” she tells you. “Stupid zipper.”

You enter her room before spinning her around gently. You unzip it with ease.

“Jeez, take me out on a date before you start undressing me,” she quips teasingly.

You see the opportunity in front of you, and you take it. “How about tomorrow at seven?”

“Only if you show up with those legs out again,” she flirts back.

“It’s a date.”

The two of you spend a few hours chatting and having a few more drinks in her room- beers she brought with her to pre-game before your really do head back to your room to get some much needed sleep.

As you pull the blankets around you, you smile to yourself. You know that she isn’t going to remember you asked her out tonight, but you think that you have the courage to do it again sober now.

The next morning comes, and Melissa comes out of her room with her hood up, sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s drinking Pedialyte through a straw as she wheels her luggage out.

You roll your eyes at her fondly. “Hey there,” you greet her, entirely too perky for her liking at this hour and in her state.

“How are you not dying?” she asks.

You smirk. “I didn’t have a chugging challenge with Derek last night.”

“Eh, worth it to keep my title,” she shrugs.

“You better rally for tonight. You have a date.”

“What?” she lowers her sunglasses so you can see the shock in her eyes.

You smirk. “You have a date… with me.”

The smiles that she breaks out into could light up all of Philly alone. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

With that, you leave her to continue to nurse the hangover for the car ride home with Barbara as you race off to check out of the hotel and head home. You have a date to plan.

Melissa waits down in the lobby for Barbara to finish packing up her weekend bags. When the kindergarten teacher comes over, the redhead, although clearly hungover, is deep in her own thoughts. 

“What’s got you looking like smoke is about to come out of your head this early in the morning?”

“I have a date with Y/N tonight.”

“About damn time,” Barbara smiles. “Let’s get you home so you can nurse that hangover and be ready for her.”