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tinycozycomfort · 1 year ago

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rest in the cup of my palms (part three)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter three: compromise

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: joel helps you work through your doubts.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> sad thoughts about fatherhood, idolization!!, oral sex (f receiving), edging

word count: 5k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: thank you for your patience and thank you as always for reading! and special thank you to @pascalisbaby for bearing with me as i cried my way through this i love u

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“For the first time, I could clearly perceive the nature of feelings and emotions—I physically felt their consistency… the surge of a wave, the crumbling of a cliff… I understood the necessity of comparisons and metaphors using water and fire.”

Annie Ernaux, Simple Passion

───────

Minutes go by, but sluggishly, painfully—a dull crawl that mimics the cinematic use of slow-motion. The fracturing feels pre-climactic and almost momentous, too-long strides of seconds that pave the way for something grand.

In reality, you’re just waiting; in this barely-lit, one shot hallway, aptly partnered by a life-sized amount of discomfort. You feel like a piece of something sprouted up from cement, forced into a mold not made with you in mind—love and like and candy-sweet, feverish feelings—unable to be removed now that you’ve grown in over the lip. Reaching for the sun. And he’s beautiful above you, radiant enough to burn behind closed eyelids—the image that shines there a carefully chosen snapshot that only adds height to where he hangs in the sky.

You’ve become so tired already, from the work-up and the frustration and the effort to stop it—like being outside all day with no reprieve until sunset; he’s that strong. It’s been restraint, followed by actions that negate it, followed by reinstating restraint, and still it doesn’t stop daylight from happening. Morning and high noon and six-o-clock oranges will never stop happening, so why not free yourself of the excessive rumination and the fighting? You’d much rather try to brave him—sunscreen and shade and a flat hand above your brow. Trying is good, easy, uncomplicated. Tonight, you can try. This is a good idea.

He’ll be here soon to prove it, too—on his way to come collect you, confirmed by the oblong rectangle of text on the brick clutched in your fist.

You move enough that it wakes up again, ’Fifteen minutes.’ flashing across its face, burning under the pad of your thumb. The thing is overheating now, somehow having absorbed some of the furious twisting of your excitement, and you shove it deep into your bag to let it cool—too honest of a mirror.

You will your body to restart, moving back out onto the yard in search of Ian, to warn him of your exit—the only courtesy you have enough patience to give—frantic to get to the good part.

You find him out by the flame, one foot resting on the brick-lined ledge of the pit, a still-full beer bottle tight in his grip. It’s tepid, too, if the lack of condensation is any indication. You curl your nose and he tips the top towards you, a waft of sour citrus pouring out.

“What happened? My friend came back very upset that you were gone,” he teases, cocking a smile and rolling his neck over in question, languid and unserious.

“I’m leaving, actually. Didn’t want to go without saying.” You knock the bottle with the back of your hand until it threatens to spill over in the other direction. It’s unoffending, really, a nervous reaction, but it has him visibly questioning what ten minutes out of view had done to make you so taut.

He straightens up minutely at your unrest, only enough to reel back his exaggerated demeanor without drawing looks, “Are you good to drive? I haven’t had any of this yet—I can take you home.”

“I’m not driving. I’ve got a ride.”

“With?”

“Joel’s going to come get me.”

His eyes widen, mouth spreading with what you’re sure are five too many questions, so you stop him before he can continue—afraid to mar his night with what you imagine would be too much to navigate right now, “I’ll explain tomorrow. Text me when you get home. I love you. I’m fine.”

Part of you—a part that has no say right now—feels guilty for doing this to him a second time, for putting your friend through another half-witnessed, poorly justified fit of emotional anguish. He was the one who brought you here, to get away from this very thing, but somewhere in your bag there’s a faint stir, hard vibration jostling the contents, and you fail to think Ian through, again.

He’s barely even started to nod before you turn, slipping through the side gate and out onto the lawn.

It only takes another handful of stretched-out moments—time lost completely on you now—before opaque beams cast across the curve of the street from the top of the cul-de-sac. They drop off into low-lights once the driver registers your presence and you push forward on shaky legs, knees locking—blood having gathered in your chest from anticipation, sloshing around your heart and cutting off circulation to your limbs.

The vehicle—a truck—passes you, hitting the end of the block and returning up the drive, passenger door addressing you when it stops, your reflection warped in its convex surface. The window rolls down with a whir, and Joel’s face appears in the slit, eyes tired and hair flattened unintentionally—you absolutely woke him up.

You let yourself in, hiking up a static-logged leg to settle in the seat before he pulls off back onto the street. It’s silent for too long, and you’re returning to a familiar feeling of acceptance, just like all the nights in your past where you’d admitted to yourself that you were going home with someone, driven by fuzzy feelings of instant connection and promise. It makes him easier to grasp—more human-like.

“You were asleep,” you mumble sheepishly, acknowledging his unpreparedness in an attempt to forgive your own.

“‘Wasn’t supposed to be. I was waiting up for Ellie. I—uh, I thought you were her when you called.”

He sounds just as level as he had on the phone, fingers rapping rhythmically on the steering wheel, “She texted a few hours ago to let me know she was out for the night. I fell asleep before I could see it.”

Joel tucks the corner of his elbow in the window, laying his cheek on curled knuckles, and you chance a real glance at him for the first time.

His dark blue t-shirt is wrinkled where it had been bunched at the torso, hanging limply now over a pair of rumpled jeans. Creases of sofa or pillow-case run up like tendrils on the skin of his arm, pressed in at various degrees of depth—restless enough to continue to pivot, even in repose.

He looks homey, spun out of flesh-colored wool thread and plush, unlike the fatigue you’d seen on him in the classroom, or the buzz of anxious tension on the side of the school a few days ago. Here he’s just Joel, free of the idea of him or his actions; just-awake Joel with nothing to say except the truth. Pressure sits weighted on your shoulders, lingering guilt from choosing to savor, even if within the safety of emotional distance. It’s okay to look, isn’t it? Although looking isn’t all you had in mind.

“Can we go to your house?”

“Did you drink?”

Joel peers over his shoulder at you, and he looks meek but not small, like the question itself isn’t embarrassing but the act of asking it is. Oh. You remember your last encounter, how you’d blamed your exit on the wine, and your heart constricts at the idea that he’s asking because he’s afraid you’ll leave again. In all honesty, you wish you could leave, be strong-willed enough to have him let you out a block from your front door, never to be seen again. But you’re weak, at the mercy of your need to test your limits, your brain dipping into its reserve while your body fights to feign presence, hands rolling into fists in your lap.

“No. I haven't gone out much since the break started. Decided against getting fucked up.”

He hums, satisfied, eyes falling ahead. The tires grind under you, lulling you into another tense quiet until he’s pulling up to the front of a well-kept, stone-faced home at the end of a short street. You lean forward to see more of it beyond the curve of the windshield, lined in copper trim with fender-shaped dents bruising the cover of the garage. It’s a call-back to grade school—what limited experience you had traversing the suburbs as a child—visiting friends in large, traditional houses with pretty concrete fountains and security-alarm signs forced into panels of fresh grass.

Joel steps out and comes around the car to open your door before you have the chance to do it yourself, popping open the handle and stilling for a second before just stepping out of your way, perhaps in the sake of not being overly cliche. You try to appear unaffected by the notion, climbing down with a smile and sealing the door behind you, but you inwardly relish in his considered movements—he’s taming himself for you.

He leads you into the house—as quaint as it seemed to be—smelling warm and peppery like heat-soaked wood. It’s very much lived in, riddled with evidence of use—scuff marks at the threshold and smudged fingerprints in the dark paint on the walls where boots were taken off with the assistance of a grip. A side table brackets one side of the entrance, littered with bobbles and keys and a few other store-bought treasures. At its closest foot are several pairs of little sneakers, piled tall and wide on a wedge of rug, too narrow to be Joel’s.

Ellie.

There are signs of her everywhere, this faceless extension of him, her name scribbled on a few papers on the table and in the corners of framed drawings in the hallway; gorgeous hand, she has—all of the figures looking as true to life as they could, even when confined to paper cages. She lines the edges of their domicile, a path of lovingly curated representations of her, right down to a monogrammed leather sketchbook that sits on the dining table.

And everywhere she is, he follows. Parts of him loom over her place-holders—guitar picks marked J in a dish with a box of charcoal nubs, a rolled up wad of button-up laid over a dark green backpack, a men’s watch sharing space on the counter with two tiny drops of backed silver. He watches over her within the borders of every container, open and solidly present behind her like a tough-knit net—ready to catch.

You step out of your shoes and he walks further in the house with haste, knocking around in what you assume is the kitchen when he returns with a glass of water.

“For you,” as he passes it, “Just in case.”

“Thank you.”

He curls a thumb into a belt loop at his waist, body teetering awkwardly as he watches you drink. You note the more-than-safe distance he’s put between you, the same kind he had implemented last week between his heart-wrenching confession and the point where this entanglement had escalated.

“Okay, so. I’m going to change. Do you want something too?”

You can’t help but smile, a nervous laugh held tight in your throat, “Yes, we can go to your room.”

Even in the dark, you don’t miss the flush of red along his jaw, the same shade he’d worn in the gallery, wine-soaked and unpracticed.

You flinch inwardly. How is it that you are remembering so much about him when he’s existed in your world for less time than should be notable? Only two interactions, now three, but they’ve earned their slot in your fondest of memories; nothing substantial provided still, and he casts your sunrises and warms your earth. You fear what touching him again will do to you.

Joel smiles something shy back, walking past you and motioning for you to do the same. He leads you back through the display, minding the little shoes as he climbs up the steps.

There are photos lining the staircase, less symbolic than the downstairs decorations, but just as revealing. A few of Joel and another man, similar in stature with a full smile and thick, slicked back hair, clasping shoulders or standing pin-straight side by side at different ages in mall-kiosk, christmas card style. Another of a young girl, all teeth and sparse freckles and pale cheeks. She’s wearing a cap and gown, shiny polyester catching in the flash, edges hazy with blur.

That’s her. His daughter. You’ve seen her, you realize, from a few modeling sessions you’d done when you offered to cover for the younger students. You already knew her, too, floating around more than a few hellos on the days you’d sat for her like a silent idol. It feels odd to be in her home now, the two of you connected in a way she hasn’t come to partake in quite yet. She’s been at the head of your conversations with Joel until now—in this moment when she’s here but not here—and you wonder how much he’s considered her place in all this. You should at least thank her, you suppose; nod at her picture in prayer or cross your fingers that you might actually get to meet her—see her again, rather—and get to say it to her face.

Joel walks ahead of you as you linger, unbothered by your interest. You’re glad he does when you reach the last row.

A larger frame bookends the slideshow, standing alone in its unique appearance. It’s hand-made, a thin string of painted ferns on the edges, the wings of something like a butterfly or moth wrapping over the right-hand corner, precise and niche enough to be nothing other than a gift. The picture inside is of the two of them together, happy and puffy-cheeked with their arms wrapped around each other, back-lit in front of some kind of museum display.

Pure joy. His comfort.

A swell of pain lodges in your ribs, eyes drawing wet. He’s losing her, you think, in a way he hasn’t even begun to realize. He's missed so much of her life—at no fault of their own—and will pursue her future as a bystander. You long to give him some kind of relief in that, maybe out of pity or maybe out of need. You wanted to be on your own, you wanted to be separated from everyone else out of spite for letting your family and your ex tower over you, heavy-handing their influence in false gestures of kindness. Not loving. Never loving—only present in best interests and helpful advice. Things that gave you purpose and points. Who was tallying? What have you to show for it now?

You only ever wanted acceptance from them, to be recognized as a person instead of as a student or a daughter or a girlfriend—to be able to transcend role and become an active participant.

It’s too perfect, this thing you each individually lack; what comes of someone who cares and someone who needs caring?

“Hey.” Joel calls from the end of the room, pulling you out of your dissection of his life, voice soft like he’s seeing an apparition he’s unsure is there.

“Hi.” You whisper, walking towards him, ignoring his tentative boundary, “You know, I did everything in my power to not call you.” There’s no point in keeping secrets now, from him or yourself.

He crowds you in the doorway, body slumping on the line of his spine so he can entrap you more securely, u-shaped shoulders and outward facing palms, “Why did you call?”

“I couldn’t help it,” and before he can interrupt, “Joel, I need you to know that this isn’t going to end well.”

“End? Have we started?”

“We were doing this before we both knew it, I think. That’s what you were talking about, right—like we’ve met before?”

“That’s right.” He’s breathing shallowly, unable to hide his desire for proximity now that you’ve allowed him more than he started with, chest moving back and forth like the breeze of the heater is enough to push his tide, “And I meant it.”

“So did I.”

“Then what are you so scared of? If it’s familiar?” His knee knocks into the slice of thigh above yours. He’s getting closer.

“Just because I want you now doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“What if I want you to have me?”

“Even worse.” The heat of his face leaks out onto yours and you open yourself to it—the hot sun in July, the boiling rain of mid-summer, all encompassing and working hard to bring you up to temperature so you can burn along with it. Setting you ablaze.

You lean up, the tip of your nose catching on the stubble lining his jaw, careful to not break eye contact for longer than the briefest moment, nudging him in short taps.

“I do, though, honey. I think you know I do.” His knee pushes between yours, digging into the joint of your leg to unfold you, the rough denim over his zipper dragging across the knob of your hip.

You curl a hand around the fabric covering his stomach, wrinkling it past the point of correction as it folds under the damp of your fist. He’s far from at length now, both nothing of what you intended and exactly what you wanted. He’s thrilled about it too, seemingly—the muscle under his torso fluttering when your nails drag against him.

He’s everything again, everywhere, soft tanned skin and jeans he came up here to ‘change out of’, the invisible halo around him swallowing you, coaxing you into his orbit. You want all of it, piece by piece and for all he’s worth.

“I don’t want to waste you,” you murmur, and there’s that unashamed boldness again, honesty rushing out like an unsupervised beast. Joel wraps his thick fingers around the side of your neck, thumb pushing into soft cheek, between rows of teeth and over skin, pushing them apart.

His eyes are glossy, like he’s just gotten up from a long sleep, gauzy and sloppy and sticky. His mouth hangs open to mimic yours as he speaks, “You couldn’t. I have an endless amount to give,” and then he’s licking the outline of your open lips, slipping his tongue in to press along the roof of your mouth and up up up to the back of your teeth. He’s puffing hard out of his nose, dipping in and out of your split, licking even the pad of his thumb where it pokes through the hollow, touching himself inside you.

His free hand grips the top of your ribs, leading you backwards towards the bed until you’re seated at the edge of it, his back curved harshly to continue to taste you.

You’re kissing him back, you know that, but your thoughts float up to cloud your pleasure and you’re getting ahead of yourself all over again. What does he want? Why does he want it? Would he be upset to learn you’re trying to give him less? You flip the hem of his shirt between your forefinger and thumb, toes curling against the carpet—walking that line of self-doubt.

He breaks away, so careful again even with no clear need to be, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just nervous.”

“About now? Or about me?”

“Both.”

“Just talk to me, then. Tell me why we shouldn’t—we can work through it together. Let me take some of that worry off of you.”

Joel braces a knee on the corner of the mattress to hold himself steady, gripping you under the joints of your shoulders and pulling you towards the center of the bed. He deposits your body like nothing, kneeling at the apex of your thighs.

Your voice shakes, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He works at the buttons on your shirt with long fingers, drawing it over the hills of your shoulders until your collar rolls in on itself from the force, falling away. Joel wraps the layer over the panel of your jacket and pulls, undressing you like he has to memorize how to be able to put you back together. He does the same with your bra, achingly slow, but you can feel tiny tremors in his wrist as it runs against your back.

You just watch for a minute, unable to link what he’s doing to reality, arms feeling weak like the dull ache of a full-body cold, akin to sickness.

“Go on, honey. Only gonna keep going as long as you do.”

“I— I feel connected to you. I don’t want to.”

He closes his eyes and bobs his head, I understand, and your body starts to feel numb at your core, pulsing so violently it prompts you to roll your ankle to make sure you haven’t left it behind.

“More,” he pants, running fully-spread hands over every piece of bare skin, your nipples pulling tight as the motions move from gentle to greedy, passing to tugging.

“I can’t do this again. I have a hard time letting go. What if you want me for the wrong reason and I can’t hate you for it?”

He pops the button of your pants, lifting you up off the bed to take the garment down and off, dipping his fingers into the rim of each of your socks on the way to remove them at the same time.

You push your forefingers into the band of your underwear, but Joel meets your hand as you start, winding a finger around the lace and pulling opposite so they catch—leave these on.

You comply, but you know you’re already wet through them, know that he can see it, and you can’t decide if you want him to know his effect on you, legs buckling in no clear direction; but he feels so good, and he’s almost where you want him, and he’s waiting for you to keep talking, so you lean into the heat. You spread.

“It’s easy to tell myself you’re different once I’m in it. But it never works out right. I get too attached.”

Joel settles in, shouldering the left side of his body under your thigh to bring you open further, wrapping his arm around it and letting a hand situate against your belly. He turns his right palm away from himself, flattening it like a warning sign before he pushes it against the crease of your cunt, rubbing in slow circles with the curve of his fingers, right under the points. You thrash, trying to force him just an inch up to where you’re throbbing, but he doesn’t budge—he’s making you earn it.

“What if you just want me because you think you need someone to take care of? What if you find out you feel better alone?”

He dips two fingers into your cunt through the film of your underwear, shallow but firm—more than just curious. You feel like you might just come from this, from just the suggestion of him.

He uses his forearm to butt against the underside of your thigh, prompting you to lift it towards your chest, and he leans down to cup your clit into his mouth, fabric and all. His mouth is searing with the aid of the material, a tight suction that insulates the heat he’s expelling.

You’re heaving now, light-headed and loose as broad strokes of his tongue soak the already tainted cloth, the extra stimulation from its drag enough to make your head spin. You’re sure that if you breathe any harder your chest will cave in.

“Hm?” He asks against you, demanding, the vibration of it setting your skin alight, and you force your nails into the dip of your hand to keep your mind in the room. You’re stuttering, but it’s not enough of a response, so he leans back—cruel and merciless.

“What did I say?” he coos, left hand pinching into the swell of flesh at your side.

It stings but you gasp, eager to take, even if the attention so so far away from where it should be, and you have to count your breaths out in groups of five to come back into focus.

“What if I’m willing to take what you give me? Does that ruin the safety I’ve built for myself?” you whisper, and finally he peels back the curtain of fabric, only enough to present your entrance, rough fingers greeting your opening with no resistance, twisting and hooking them so just the tips are fixed inside. He positions himself above his hand, spitting onto your still-covered clit, watching it slide down and gather where you join. It’s unnecessary, with how much slick you know is pooled there, trailing down onto the sheets under you, but you chalk it up to just having another piece of him inside of you—you’ll gladly accept it.

You’re so very close, and he can tell, maybe from the shake in your hoisted leg or the lack of time in between airy cries, and he just slides in, right to the first knuckle. No room to be ready.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears is so loud you don’t hear yourself when you start begging. You writhe under the hold he has on you, relieved and overwhelmed and a few inches from your soul pouring right out of your body.

And then he’s not moving again, lessening the recovery time he’s willing to allow you, and you try to dig through the fog of arousal to find real words, but your mind can only conjure up a single-syllable sentence as you beg him to relent.

He frees himself from the clutch of your leg, shimmying out so he can use his unsodden hand to cradle your head, the weight of your skull limp in his palm, “You can do it. Get it all off your chest.”

Joel presses his thumb up under your cheek, pulling at the crease of your lips like he can will you to speak with force alone.

“I can’t. Please. Just finish.”

“You have something else you want to say. I don’t take kindly to giving up. C’mon.”

He gives you a half-step, reminding you part of him is still within you, fingers curling up against the soft muscle and you skip over a hard inhale.

“How am I supposed to know what I’m up against if you won’t tell me?” He says it like it’s obvious, like this is some very common step in relationship-building—finger-fucking you as a reward for confessing your skepticism.

You’re tense, holding the whole of your body in one, tiny scrap of you and it feels like you’ve entered some kind of limbo, suspended in the place between tension and relief, so close to falling that you’re not sure you want either of them.

He angles himself again, pushing his entire heft into your hip with a wide hand so he can fit himself flat against the bed, mouth hovering over your cunt again. He exhales hard over you, the fingers still tucked in your cunt moving as he adjusts.

“Please?” He begs sweetly, high enough on the end that you know he’s mocking you, “You can do better than please.”

You huff hard, swallowing thickly—trying again, “What if you—What if—,” you manage, and the lead-up must be convincing enough because he bows again, body fully flat so he can latch on to your clit with his mouth, lips closing tight around the bud through cotton and sucking hard, the hand inside you stirring to life, his twisted positive reinforcement serving you well.

“Fuck, Joel. Fuck—What if you make me love you, just to leave me?”

Your ankle drifts down to find purchase against his waist, and you can feel him moving, working himself into the mattress. In the chaos, you’d forgotten about his want, and being reminded of his ability to take makes your sweat run cold. He could fuck you now, and instead he’s fucking the bed thinking about you—even bringing you to completion is enough to make him chase release. You lean your head back behind your shoulders, your orgasm overtaking you one harsh wave at a time, stomach filling with thick, hot syrup. You push your teeth so deep into your lip there has to be blood but you can’t taste it, all of your senses honed onto where he’s unraveling you, shrinking in on itself in preparation to violently burst.

He weighs in, now that you’re already cresting, “I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Not now that I know what you need.”

His admission, his promise, is enough to make you see white, pushing your peak into overstimulation far too soon, and you have to be crying or begging or something because he immediately slows, winding you down in an organic way—taking his time leading you past bliss.

He pulls his hand free of you, sliding his grip over the damp, half-mounted fabric and peeling it away, hand circling your calf to maneuver you gently.

You’re fully naked now, and when he rolls over to stand at the foot of the bed, you remember he’s still clothed. There he is, above you again like he brings the dawn, bent shirt and uneven waistband and shiny slip over his lips.

It looks different from your memory though, here he looks inexplicably pained, face wrinkled, and then settles another reminder—he hadn’t come.

“Wait, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer, just recedes to another part of the room you can’t see over your heap of arms and legs.

You’re still swallowing ragged mouthfuls of air, not quite normal, when he reappears, the feeling of hot cloth against your still fragile cunt makes you writhe.

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t get to… finish,” you mutter, and how you’re too embarrassed to address his arousal even after what just transpired is beyond you.

“No need to rush anything. I can take care of myself for now, plenty of time to get to that point.”

“What now, then?”

“Sleep with me. I can take you home if you want, or to your car, but I would much rather if you stayed.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

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momoamadness · 2 months ago

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The Fall Guy aka MetalStorm "It's high noon at the edge of the universe."

#jason momoa #the fall guy #metalstorm #jason momoa gifs #my gif edit #feel free to use

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darethshirl · 2 years ago

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They say solitary confinement can turn a man mad. Anders thinks he’s passed the boundary all the way back to sanity.

As he sits on his thin cot, arms crossed over his chest and head leaning against the cold stone of the wall, he has the dubious honor of knowing the exact breadth and length of his own personal universe. He knows the dimensions of his cell—five steps from one wall to the one across, four and a half when going edge to edge—and he knows how the light slants through the high window at morning, noon, and evening. He can map out the floor through the hairline cracks alone, and he recognises each discoloration on the ceiling like they’re old, familiar constellations. He even knows how long he’s been stuck here: today is Day 105 of his confinement, as evidenced by the column of pale thin lines painstakingly etched out in the corner. The lines are longer at the top, angry and vicious scratches sitting chaotically next to each other. They turn neater as the column goes down, more organized. He needs to save space, after all.

Anders takes a long breath, inhaling the mildewed musk of the air in all its glory. He taps his foot. Sometimes he spends the whole day pacing, just hours and hours of walking back and forth and back and forth, those same five steps repeated to infinity. He can’t stop even if he wants to, even if his knees and feet scream complaints at him. When that particular mood strikes he’s helpless against his body’s urges, his mind going blank as his nerves and muscles purge that infernal, incessant restlessness.

Others, like today, he’s possessed by a wave of lethargy instead. He slumps back and lets his head loll, his gaze going vague and distant. He observes the agonizingly slow crawl of a sunbeam across the floor, his mind too exhausted—from what? from what?—to calculate the time through its position. He blindly watches the motes of dust floating in its wake.

A sound interrupts his mind-numbing routine—a soft, tiny meow—and suddenly Anders feels energized from head to toe. He snaps his gaze towards the window and sure enough, there’s his new friend: a scrawny little tabby, with white-padded feet and a misshapen face, nosing at the bars. The bars look stern and hefty, thick enough to fill Anders’ hands but too strong to budge. Still, a feline could easily slip through the opening, if it was so inclined. And Anders suspects it soon will be.

“Hey there,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from disuse. He gets up and reaches high towards the window, the morsel of food he’d been saving greasing his palm. “Hey, little buddy. You hungry?”

He feels the cat eat from his hand, its breath warm and vital against his skin, and smiles.

#anders #dragon age #my writing

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ionianwanderer · 4 months ago

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riot Gamies is vague about it but what do you think happened between high noon yone and yasuo i want to know ur thoughts bruther

From what crumbs Riot has given us about Yasuo’s High Noon skin pre the revamp of the skinline to include Southern Gothic aspects, it ties with his original lore pretty closely: A man trying to outrun the sins and the guilt he carries on his back. But with the introduction of Yone into the universe things tend to shake up a little bit more. So for my interpretation of the two:

A tale of two brothers heading west for new opportunities, nothing unheard of for those migrating across the eastern settlement. But to leave the humble little town their mother had settled in along with the ranch they’ve known since they were kids, it hadn’t come as a surprise for Yasuo to be the one setting out on his own first. Only for Yone to follow suit out of growing concern to protect his only sibling. So out west they went.

As time went on, the two made themselves a little life catching odd jobs in every town they stopped in through their travels. Wasn’t a fruitful life but it was what they could consider comfortable as they went about their journey westward. All this until Yasuo manages to catch the eyes of a few folks that weren’t too keen on the two brothers strutting into town.

Something that Yasuo always found comfort in was the saloons in each stop of their journey, this was no different. Settling in at one of the many wooden tables among the rest of the patrons before a bottle of rum was placed on his table. Much to Yasuo’s detriment, he’d managed to settle himself exactly where a few of the regulars had carved their names into the edge of the heavy oak, and they weren’t too fond of finding the cowboy in their rightfully claimed abode. What results is a fight between the four of them, at first the snide comments turning to shoving and chairs being pushed over. Escalating further when one smashes a bottle against a table and threatens Yasuo with it, something he never took kindly to. And as the wild and reckless little brother he’d always been, Yasuo shoots first. The saloon erupts into more chaos then as the man lay bleeding and clutching the wound dealt by Yasuo’s trigger happy finger. Before long Yasuo’s gone, taking off through the Saloon doors and past Yone as he races towards the source of the chaos.

It makes Yone skid to a stop, kicking up dust and dirt as his body snaps towards the direction Yasuo ran. Men pour out from the Saloon and past him as Yone divides their numbers like a rock parting a stream, legs heavy as he watches onward. Questions racing through his mind until he’s shouldered roughly by another man who tells him Yasuo’s getting away. That’s when Yone moves, racing through the stampede after his own flesh and blood in order to grab him, set him straight, find out what happened and why he did it. But he never does quite make it to him.

Yasuo, who had been quick witted enough to cut a horse free from its post, climbs upon the beast’s back and hikes the reins high before snapping them harshly. Setting off galloping straight out of the town and kicking up the dust of regret in his escape. There’s a moment, as he braces himself low against the saddle, where he rears his head back over his shoulder to watch as they try to shoot him. Finding Yone, standing among the very men that now wanted him dead, still as can be, unbelieving that this is the thing that severs the tie between them. Yasuo squeezes his eyes shut when he turns to face the horizon as he snaps the reins once more.

Yone never finds him again after that.

#asks;#windchaser #he Good. The Bad. & The Exiled;#hc;#me lifting some stuff from ur lil rambles abt high noon... very slightly #anyways here u go #yasuo highnoon lore :)

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expired-bat · 10 months ago

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6 and 24 for all of Rabies

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Meilin: She and Lucille were homeschooled, so they never got to experience public or private school life. She didn't really enjoy it much, since there were so many distractions. She doesn't like any subject, but she excels in math.

Chris: He was the usual outcasted weirdo, keeping to himself and thinking that the cool kids were his friends (when really, they just made fun of him). Chris didn't like the learning aspect, but did enjoy the social aspect of it. But because of his illness, it prevented him from going beyond. He dropped out in his early sophomore year after being kicked out. His favorite subject was art, but he hates biology the most.

Jayu: In a North Korean school, every student is expected to excel in everything. Jayu was the best in his district and often sought out for performances. Unfortunately, he was unable to finish school because he and his family got arrested and sent to a camp. His favorite subject was music. He says he doesn't have a class he dislikes, but dealing with computers was a challenge for him.

Ryan: Being a menace follows him everywhere. Dude was so bad that he was kicked out of three schools before the end of his freshman year of high school. Surprisingly, he managed to graduate in time (with a solid 2.0!) Fujio does wish that his son did better on his education. His favorite subject was English and he absolutely hated any and all math classes.

Tony: As a kid, he enjoyed going to school (not for learning, just to play with his friends). But as he grew, he started to see how shitty the school system is and did the bare minimum. He drops out after his sophomore year after being kicked out. He liked P.E. and detested everything else.

June: They have a tiger mom, a multi-millionaire dad, and is expected to inherit a company; what do you think their education is like? June has the most privileged upbringing in the group, even with education. they've spent their entire lives being at private schools, graduating the top of their class and going to college at Colombia University (Richard bribed the school cough)

Eddie: He grew up in a reservation and spent his years going to school there. Eddie did alright there, having a few friends and learning as much as he can. He did had to miss a few days because of housing conditions, he has to take care of his grandparents as they age, and his growing alcohol addiction. His favorite subject was band/music and he dislikes history.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

Meilin: I'd say Meimei has a normal sleep schedule... If your normal is going to bed at 4 AM and waking up at noon. But hey, she got her recommended 8 hours. She does have her night terrors from time to time and it's terrifying to hear her scream for someone to stop. Mei is not a snorer and will blow anyone with her mind if she hears them snoring. She likes to sleep on her bed, a queen-sized circular soft mattress covered in hot pink and black covers, silky pillows, and various Hello Kitty plushies. She'll sleep a bit longer after a night of partying.

Chris: Does anyone see this dude sleeping?? Honestly, he's a wild card when it comes to sleep. He's either awake for three days or he's sleeping for 16 hours. He's a champion for heavy sleepers and he moves a lot. If his nose is a bit stuffy, he'll snore a little bit. Chris sleeps on anything that's flat or comfy; he'll sleep on the floor, on a table, on the edge of a couch, leaning on a door, etc.

Jayu: He has the sleep schedule of a regular jack-off; goes to bed at 8 PM (if possible) and wakes up at 5 AM. He sleeps like the dead; no sounds and no movements, but is easy to wake up just by coughing. He likes to sleep in a comfortable bed, but with a firm mattress. Soft mattresses give ache his muscles.

Ryan: He'll sleep whenever he wants, but gets less than 7 hours of sleep. He does snore, but they're quiet. He moves a bit and sometimes will say something while snoozing, mostly they're just "huh?" or "fuck." Ryan likes to sleep on soft mattresses, as he and his evening friend likes to be comfortable.

Tony: Same with Ryan for sleeping habits, though he does have a job. When I tell you that Tony snores, he SNORES. He's gotten used sleeping on hard surfaces, so ofc he has a hard mattress. He's also fine with sleeping on couches and chairs, though he does have to get used with how small they are.

June: Because they have free will now, June gets to sleep at whatever time they want, though they are a hardcore insomniac. Their usual schedule lasts for 4-5 hours, with some waking hours. They're not a snorer and they are a light sleeper. They like soft mattrasses, but it still doesn't help them to fall asleep. Maybe a melatonin gummy or two... or three.

Eddie: Another guy who sleeps like a jack-off, this time going to bed at 10 PM to 6 AM. He does snore, but it's not obnoxiously loud. He won't admit it, but he does hug his pillow at times. He likes to sleep on comfortable surfaces, like his bed or a couch. He has slept on rougher surfaces before.

#answered asks #ocs #rabies band

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echantedtoon · 1 year ago

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Dragon's Treasure Ch7 The Date P2

(Error143 references might be made. Will contain my own headcannons about Raihan's backstory. Just picture the scene above/linked as the scene in the story just imagine the pond a bit bigger and the old cottage as the second picture/link just with a modern roof. In case anyone forgot what Shiny pokemon reader has-

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In case anyone forgot what Shiny pokemon reader has-

Riolu(boy): Gold. Zorua(girl): Loki. Pikachu(boy): Harvest. Zigzagoon(boy): Piers Jr. or P.J. Sylveon(girl): Blueberry. Drizzile(boy): Silver Veil. Gengar(boy): Eclipse. And later Goodra(girl): Slug.)

You can't believe you were doing this. There was still butterflies in your stomach and even if you had Silver right next to you for comfort, you were still on edge as you followed Raihan out of one of the exits from Hammerlocke and around the side of the giant wall following him until you paused noticing he was walking away from the dirt path leading into Hammerlocke and instead started towards one of the many open fields surrounding the town of Hammerlocke which lead towards some woods on the very edge of the field behind the town. You hadn't given the woods far behind the town much thought til now and trudging through the high grassy field after him didn't sound appealing either. He stopped after a bit not hearing your footsteps behind him anymore and noticed you and Silver were gazing after him still on the dirt path near the entrance back into the town.

With another smile his arm beckoned you to follow him once again. "C'mon! You don't want to miss this! Trust me!"

Well...It was just a stroll through the woods. At most the only dangerous thing was a wild pokemon chasing you but Raihan was, admittedly, a really good trainer and you did have Silver who also had enough battle experience to defend himself and you if needed, and this admittedly sounded better than anything you initially thought would happen while out with Raihan. Well if you were walking through the woods then there'll be plenty of things to look at so you wouldn't have to engage with him so much. It just might make being with him all the more tolerable. So you slowly followed again and Silver like a loyal dog followed after you. Through the tall grass the three of you walked in silence. The noon sun beamed down from the middle of the sky lighting up the entire field around you and if it wasn't windy today, you were sure you'd be sweating bullets. The cooler winds blew the grass making them sway and move around your legs as you walked, the grass making soft sounds from your feet stepping across them, your hand reaching up every so often to remove strands of hair the wind blew in your face every so often. The faint smell of flowers were present as there was a few patches of wild flowers growing here and there and if you strained your eyes against the sunlight, you could vaguely make out butterfree and combees buzzing around said patches. Overall a pretty sight to behold so far. You both continued to walk and walk until you met the treeline and Raihan turned to you holding a finger up in the universal 'Shh' sign.

"We're nearly there but it'd be best if you were quiet so they won't be scared away."

"They?" Your brow rose. "They who?''

"You'll see,'' was his only response before he smiled again, turned, and continued on now through the brush.

You sighed but still followed after him again. The forest was admittedly pretty with the fresh scent of grass and flowers in the air, and different shades of green everywhere. As you both continued to walk, you'd once and a while see a random wild pokemon or two scurrying around the flora and flowering bushes and flowers alike. You weren't expecting such a pretty scene like this behind a town as popular as Hammerlocke much less for it to remain untouched. Maybe people were so preoccupied with the gym and Raihan's famous presence that they really didn't know what they had here right under their noses. Too bad for them because they were missing out on a beautiful sight. ....Huh. Your head turned back to stare at the back of Raihan's head still following him past bushes and trees. Maybe...Maybe he knew? Was this his entire reason for bringing you here? If so-...If so then you'd have to give him some credit for this. It's not what you were expecting at all from him. So...Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't what you thought-

"Ack-"

You hadn't realized he stopped and ended up bumping into him before back peddling and looking up at him as he looked surprised over his shoulder at you. After a second he held up another 'shush' sign to you before pointing in front of you all. You had to lean sideways and crane your neck to look around him and noticed that in front of him was a couple bushes about his height and blocking any view from what was behind him. Your brow rose and your f/c eyes looked at him in question. Dragon Boy gave a small smile before reaching his hand out and grabbing a decent sized fistful of leaves and branches, before pulling it back and finally allowing you to see the other side. Your eyes widened and jaw dropped-

A gentle breeze blew across leaves kissing against the trees and filling the air with sweet scents. Fresh cut grass and wild flower scents filled the moving finds as if giving the leaving winds one last good bye before they leave forever. The sounds of the leaves moving together were accompanied by the chorus of a babbling brook as they both sang in harmony. There was a small clearing surrounded by a ring of trees smack dab in the middle of the woods. A small stream glistened, sparkled with sunlight reflection as it came into the small clearing and ended in a decent sized pond complete with a small waterfall where the stream trickled into the pond. But it wasn't the stream that was just breathtaking. It was the little splashes made by the happy pokemon splashing around in the sparkling water without a care in the world. There wasn't a lot. Only a few small ones like a couple mudkips and a different wild pokemon or two who weren't a water type drinking from the clear water. But that wasn't initially what caught your attention for too long. It was what was just behind the pond that caught your attention away from the cute pokemon playing in the water and directly behind it closest to the tree line.

"Oh. My. Arceus."

IT WAS A COTTAGE!!! Like- ...LIKE ONE OUT OF A FAIRYTALE!! It looked similar to Mrs. G's house only slightly smaller. The wooden roof, brick walls, and chimney was covered in bright green vines that bloomed with bright white flowers making it look like one with the many wildflowers surrounding it, and surrounding it still was many small trees you instantly recognized. Berry trees! Like the kind of trees that you and the guys encountered when traveling around Galar. All different kinds of colorful berries poked out from their branches like a rainbow was hidden just beneath all their leaves. If you looked hard enough, you could faintly see more pokemon like aipom and grookey climbing the branches to reach them. The cottage itself was a sight of it's own. It didn't look worn and abandoned per say but it did look old and like no one lived in it at the moment. Did a berry farmer live here or something?

Raihan remained silence, looking at your wide eyed and jaw dropped express with amusement at the pure wonder spread over your features. Like a kid in the candy store. He couldn't help but chuckle making you blink and snap your head towards him.

"So," he asked casually putting his hands behind his head and smiling widely down at you. "How do you like the scenery?"

It took you a few seconds moving your jaw and glancing between him and the scene before you again before being able to talk to him properly. "This-..." Your hands moved gesturing at it, nothing, him, everything, yourself and nothing again at once. Before settling on throwing your arms out at the house. "THIS IS BEAUTIFUL!!" Your voice was so loud a couple of pokemon looked up in your direction. "How did you even find this place?"

"Sometimes I come out here to train or just unwind,'' he answered nonchalantly with a shrug, "I come across this every so often. My sandaconda likes the wild charti berries that grow here." You watched as he turned and pushed through the bush to enter this person's yard, a few small green leaves falling off the plant and falling to the ground. "C'mon. This looks like a good place to stop for a bit and let our pokemon have a ball."

You watched after him as he stepped into the small clearing raising a brow. "Hey. Wait a sec!" He turned to you in question and you pointed at him. "Wouldn't this be trespassing? I mean.." You gestured to the cottage ahead of you. "Someone obviously lives here right?"

He shook his head no to your surprise. "Nah. Not really."

"Wait...Seriously?''

"Yeah! I mean-...It has been on the housing market for a couple years now, but no one's shown interest in it."

...You looked between him and the house again unbelieving as you slowly stepped through the bush yourself. "...You really expect me to believe that? A person would be crazy in order to not take this place for themselves!" It was true. Plenty of space. A free food source. Beautiful scenery. And there was a town just next door if you really needed anything. Plus there was a sense of security knowing THE most powerful gym leader in Galar lived less than a mile away. Not that you'd be happy to see him every single day but you were more than capable of admitting he was a capable trainer for sure. "This is something right out of a fairytale!"

He shrugged again. "I guess it has something to do with all the regulations about this particular area outside Hammerlocke."

"Regulations?," you asked coming to a stop to stand right next to him. You had to crane your neck to properly look him in the eyes. Yeesh. This guy was even taller than Piers! And Hot Pink was a good foot and a half taller than yourself!

"Yeah." A hand of his released itself from behind his head and pointed back over back in the direction towards the cabin. "This house is sittin' directly on the nature reserve. The only property that you can buy and own in the house and the small clearing here, otherwise all the woods surrounding it belongs to the Galar Preservation Of Wild Pokemon Society managed by the Chairwoman. Heck. What we just walked through was the nature reserve." Your eyes turned to him wide eyed. Hammerlocke had a nature reserve!? "It's illegal to capture, distribute, or even shiny hunt pokemon in this part of Hammerlocke. All those rules make it less appealing to folks who'd rather not have to deal with all the hassle."

".....Why would someone build a house on a nature reserve then? Isn't that also illegal!?"

"Actually the house was here way before this place was even declared as a reserve. I think that's why the last person who lived here was a pokemon ranger but that was a long time ago."

Ah...Well that made a whole lot of sense then. No matter how pretty the view was, that seemed like a deal breaker a lot of people would refuse the house for. However you thought it was a perfect location. You surely weren't planning on catching anymore pokemon. Not after rediscovering that little herd you and Gloria had forgotten about that had then clung onto you for dear life. ....Hmm. Interesting. Gave you a tiny idea you tucked into the back on your mind later with the Hammerlcoke real-estate office but for now you'd focus on getting one thing done at a time. Which meant getting this date over-....With....

Wait-

WAIT WAIT WAIT A ARCEUS DARNED SECOND-

Your head snapped back to him faster than a running rapidash's quick attack making Raihan flinch at your suddenly look. "This isn't the first time you've mentioned a nature reserve to me." Eyes narrowed, your hand reached up and poked his chest. "You told me about this place before. When you took in those trainers."

There was silence again between the two of you. Nothing sounding off except for the sound of wind rustling the leaves, the babbling brook, and the distant sounds of wild pokemon around you. Raihan remained shocked into silence. For once, any real emotion that could've covered up the true feelings on his face was long forgotten, allowing you to see the real and raw thing he was feeling before you, and it was...almost scary seeing that kind of emotion on someone who shouldn't have that kind of emotion. This was RAIHAN you were talking about! The one who constantly battled Leon for the Champion title and carved a name for himself with his own bare hands and skills alone! Why would he be shocked about someone just casually asking something about something he himself talked about himself?

His jaw moved like a magikarp, opening and closing. "I-...Ahehe." A strained, nervous smile speared across his nervous, almost scared face. "We-Well wasn't expecting that out of you, Sassy."

"I'm serious," you pressed, "You're the one who brought it up being a nature reserve. I just put two and two together." Your eyes again scanned back around the area, spotting Silver having wondered away from you and now lazily laying in the water. So much for his help. Shaking your head you looked back at you. "I don't get you. Like at all. Especially when it comes to how you've been acting so weird lately. You're not acting-"

"Like you expected me too?" You flinched at the sudden deep voice cutting in and you stopped. Stopped at the sad smile on his face and the even duller look in his eyes staring at nothing. "No. It's ok. *sigh* I get that a lot. More than you would expect actually."

"....Raihan, this might be overstepping, but are you ok?" The amount of time for those duller eyes to go from shocked to saddened to surprised was impressive as they directly looked back at you. That single question weighing a lot more than meaning too but carrying a lot more meaning than you knew in that moment. "If you're seriously not feeling well we can stop and-"

"NO!!" A couple pokemon fled and you leaned back blinking at the sudden panicked yell erupting from Raihan's mouth. "....Uh-..I-I mean n-no!" He coughed and held up his hands. "No it's alright. I'm not sick or anything. I swear! I'm just-...W-Well I- Hmph!"

He stopped talking. Not by his own choice. But because someone decided to place a hand over his mouth gently to get him to stop talking. Raihan paused....before his dark ocean blue eyes looked cross eyed at your hand (which you would've laughed at if it weren't so serious right now) and then slowly up to you. Your expression concerned.

"Hey...Calm down. Don't push yourself so hard alright," you calmly spoke before slowly removing your hand away from his and lowering it now that you got his full attention, "You've been acting more fidgity than a wet cat dunked in ice water."

".....Cat?"

"Uh-...Purrloin! I meant purrloin! *ahem* The point being that I think you've think stressed over things lately with everything going on. That's why you've been acting like this, right?"

"I-...Well I-..." He sighed, leaning up away from your reach and again placing his hands behind his head in some pose, must've been a habit of his. "Yeah. That's part of it. Didn't take you for a sleuth too."

"Well when you've seen things I have it becomes easier to put two and two together. But..what else has been bugging you?"

...His eyes became half lidded. "Oh...Are you sure you really want to know?" You weren't sure what he was getting at but you nodded and he regarded you for a solid moment before looking back away from you for a moment. "Honestly...I was kinda worried about making a good first impression on you."

"Me?" You nearly scoffed but held back. "You shouldn't have to go through all this trouble worrying over me. I'm not someone you have to worry over."

"...Maybe not but I do care about what you think about me." That certainly caught you offguard as you stared at him but he continued. "It's...not often I find myself attracted to someone so different from other women I've dated. You're...someone I wanted to make a good impression on so maybe- I dunno." His hands rubbed his neck and all of a sudden it became a lot more tense as he stared at a random piece of grass on the ground. "Maybe you'd at least wouldn't think badly of me at the very least.....Or at least wo-Wouldn't sick your pokemon on me anymore. Hehe...aaahh."

"....How am I different from any other girl?," you pointed out shocked he'd say something like that, "I'm no different than any other girl. You have tons of fans who'd love to be with you so I'm sure you'd find someone you'd like just as much or even better-"

"That's the problem!," he snapped looking back at you with a look, "They're NOT like you-...AH! W-What I mean is.." His hands were held up suddenly at your surprised look. "No other lady has ever taken time out to t-talk to me like you d-do. Li-Like a person instead o-of someone you put on a pedestal or an obsessed fan..." His eyes looked down. "Or the ones who're just interested i-in my status. I-...I-I appreciate that. It's not everyday someone disregards that fact about me."

"Well...yeah. You shouldn't define a person by their situation. You judge them based on their actions and word. You're not the worse person I've met-"

"That's what I'm talking about."...He slowly looked back to you. "That didn't stop you from rejecting me based on status or just talking to me." A small smile speared across his face. "Or pulling the hood over my face?"

You groaned. "You're really never going to let me live that down are you?"

"Haha! Nope! In fact that was probably one of your more classier moments!" His hands clasped together in a 'dramatic swoon' as he leaned over you slightly as if 'lovestruck' by cupid himself. "Such strong reflexes!~ It's enough to make a man swoon-"

"I CHANGED MY MIND!!," you yelled out face exploded red and leaned back away from him scowling, "YOU ARE DEFINITELY THE WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD!!"

"GAH!!" The sudden yell ripped from his lungs certainly wasn't what you were expecting from him and it did make you jump back on instinct. Watching in shock as Raihan leaned backwards, face twisted into a painful expression. Hands rushing to clutch at his chest, over where his heart beats. "AH! Y-YOUR WORDS!! It's like a sword went through me! I'm done for-" With a cough noise his hand shot up towards the heavens the farther he leaned back. "Ah! No! I'm ddyyiiinnggg- BLEH!"

With that Raihan finally let gravity claim him. Letting his body fall back until with a thud sound, he landed backwards right onto the ground kicking up a few blades of grass and flower petals up from his 'faint'. Leaving you to stand there and stare at him wide eyed for a second as your brain processed what just the frick happened.

"...Did you just pretend to die on me?"

From the ground his eyes opened and a familiar smiled turned up to you, "Yeah. I did. Did you laugh?"

"Psh." You rolled your eyes but smiled. "You're so full of yourself."

"Am I now? Or am I just confident?~", he asked finally leaning up to sit up.

"The first one,'' you answered plopping yourself on the ground next to him, "But I might have to change my opinions on you."

Again he seemed to be caught off guard with his wide eyes but this time he managed to keep smiling. "Oh really?" He asked with genuine interest. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

...You shrugged. "Honestly?" He nodded and you sighed, going back to watching Silver paddle around in the water without a care in the world. "Well...You've surprised me a bit today, and you're not...what I expected. I guess what I'm trying to say is that-..." You gestured your hands around guilt creeping up on you before sighing and just plopping your arms back down into your lap. "What am I doing? Fine! I admit it. I was a real jerk to you before." The more you thought about it, the more you did feel kinda guilty thinking badly of him even when he didn't really do anything wrong per say. "That part was on me." Your head turned back to him. "So maybe we-" ....You blinked. A half lidded look and smile was what you were met with. "...What?"

"Oh nothing. You're just really beautiful when you're being sincere.~"

...Your face exploded red as you scowled again. "HEY! I'm trying to be serious here!"

"So am I! I like a person who can be honest with me." Now placing his head in his hands. "Especially someone who was the first ever person who told me I didn't have to apologize for anything."

A confused expression made him smile more. "Me? When did I say something like that."

"Back in Wyndon. That night you were in the hospital. ...You don't..remember?"

Back at the hospital? What was he talking about now- A giant glass breaking noise went off in your head when a memory came out of no where and slapped you in the face. Of you in the hospital after the Eternatus incident. And Raihan coming to visit you shaking more nervous than a blind mouse in a tornado-

"Come in."

The door opened and it wasn't Leon or Piers who decided to visit you again. And it wasn't anyone from the hospital staff either. The doorknob turned. The door opened wide. And a person with dark blue eyes and an orange bandanna walked right in. And you paused staring in confusion as none other than Raihan stepped through the door. The man also froze seeing you in the doorway hand still on the doorknob as silence passed between the two of you. You stared at him blinking...before finally speaking.

"Raihan? What are you doing here?"

Your voice seemed to snap him outta his daze because he shook his head and forced a smile at you. "Hey! I-If it isn't Ms. Sassy herself!" Did he just stutter- "How are you?" He quickly stepped in and closed the door behind him before forcing his hands back into his pockets. "I was just in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by and see how the sass master herself was doing this evening?"

"....It's noon."

He paused for a moment smile straining before one hand found itself mimicking Leon and rubbing his neck. "Well...Ahaha! Y-You're right. M-My bad. Guess I should've known better-"

"Dude. Relax. I was just joking."

"Huh- OH! R-Right! Haha. F-Funny joke. *ahem* So...How are you feeling? From what I heard you got a really good knock on the noggin."

You smiled at him. "I'm fine thanks. I mean I did have a headache for a bit but it's all gone now." As if to prove your point you reached up and patted your head. "I'm right as rain as they say. But I'm surprised you showed up to see me."

He flinched. "O-Oh...Y-Y'know. I mean I've seen Lee and Piers...And those kids ok. And I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was alright y-y'know?"

....Your brow rose higher and he felt sweat starting to form on his face the longer you stared at him in suspicion. Before his smile became even more strained as you crossed your arms and stared at him.

"You're lying," you stated bluntly catching him off guard.

His mouth dropped opened a lil bit for a few seconds before another forced laugh came out and he mumbled. "W-Wha- Psh! Nah! W-Why would I be lying about t-that-"

"Well firstly-", you interrupted him holding up another finger with each point you made, "-you're not acting like yourself. You're stuttering, you're the last person who'd want to see me considering the last few times we've met and we're not that close, usually you're acting so overly confident so this is new, and you could've just asked someone if I was ok instead of just coming to see me so there's no real reason for you to come all the way to the hospital." Raihan felt his stomach drop and drop and drop with each point you made. The weird feelings in his guts increasing. "And lastly you look like you've seen a ghost. So obviously something's up. So...what's up?"

Raihan didn't move. He even doubted he even breathed for that matter as you still stared at him. He raised his hands moving them around as his mouth opened and closed silently like a magikarp. Your brow rose more...and he sighed letting his arms flop back down to his sides. You now felt your suspicious look turn confused watching him rub his face.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"Yeah. You're a pretty open book."

"Oh come on. Seriously?" he sighed again. "You're worse than Piers. "

"...I'll take that as a compliment."

"...Heh." His hand removed from his face and he gave a weak smile towards you. "It'd be weird if you didn't." Before he sighed and held up a hand, face going back to that almost tired expression. "Alright. You got me. I did come here for a reason."

"Why?"

"I actually was curious about how you were doing." ..You rose a brow again and he held up both hands. "No. Really. I-I heard you were ok but-" His stomach did summersaults like he never imagined before. He never expected to see you of all people hanging limp in Leon's arms wrapped up in his cape as the hurt champion struggled to take you to safety- A shudder wracked his body making him shake his head and finding the floor suddenly interesting as his eyes stared at it. His hands gripping the insides of his pockets. "...That's not...The only reason I wanted to see you."

"Why? It's Silver isn't it? I bet he's tried to spray you down."

"No! I mean yes! He has but that's not the point." He'd rather not try to explain how many times the drizzlie had tried to hose him down while in his care. "I-...Y-You-...Ahaha. W-Well I just figured while I was here I should-..." You blinked confused at him as he stuttered and his hands moved around as he tried to explain. "B-Back at the gym you were I-...GRRRAAAHHHHH!!!" You flinched in surprise when Raihan growled out like an actual dragon and his hands flew up to grip his signature bandanna in frustration. "WHY MUST THIS BE SO DIFFICULT!? THIS WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!"

"Raihan. What are you talking about-"

"I'M SORRY!! OK!?", a voice with the ferocity and desperation of a dying dragon cried out as the dragon leader threw his hands out and gave you the guiltiest most genuinely emotional look you had scene on Raihan ever since you first met him in person back at Hammerlocke. Raihan leaned right and when he thought he would fall over his body followed and he began to pace back and forth. His mind spinning. Hands gesturing at nothing. Eyes blown wide in almost panic. Chest heaving. Lungs feeling as though he was literally breathing fire. Flashes of what happened that night flashed back and forth with his view of the hospital room he was standing in. "I'm SORRY I was there! I'm SORRY I couldn't stop it! I didn't know...I DIDN'T KNOW!! And how come I didn't know! It's my gym right!? I should know! There should've been some way I should've known and I could've done something! I'm supposed to be top gym leader! It was literally under my feet this en-entire time! And I didn't even suspect anything?...GRAH!!" His palms met his face in a double facepalm. "How could I be so blind!? This never should've happened! No wonder I can't even beat Lee! I couldn't even protect my own terf from-"

"RAIHAN! STOP!!"

Something soft grabbed his hands and YANKED them away from his face and downwards, far enough that the pull also pulled the shocked into silence gym leader forward to lean over none other than you. Unbeknownst to him, during his ramblings you had been staring at him in semi shock during his panicked rambling and noticed him spiraling downwards. At one point you had gotten up and gone over and grabbed his hands to make him stop his rant. Which ultimately left you both now in this predicament with you scowling at him and holding his hands as she leaned over you staring like he literally saw you just evaporate into thin air. Jeez. Even leaning over the guy was taller than you. After a moment of silence you sighed and shook your head before holding his hands up to him, clutching them gently in yours.

"Look...You need to calm down. Alright?," you gently spoke to him holding his hands up higher in yours. "None of this..Any of it, was your fault. Ok?" You gave his hands a firm shake. "None of this was your fault. Yeah. You didn't know but neither did Leon and he's the bloody Champion."..Your eyes looked down to the side real quick. "And I can't believe I completely forgot that part of the game."

And he blinked. "....Wh-What?"

"Uh...Nevermind. The point is no one saw him coming and so no one could've really stopped him let alone you. Things happen sometimes but it's all ok in the end." One hand patted the pair of hands bunched up in yours making his blue eyes glance at where you were holding them for a moment. "Arceus look at you. All worried over nothing." Finally at last you let go of his hands but he still held them up. "And you came all the way here to do what? Apologize to me for something you didn't do? That's insane. There's nothing to apologize for. Not where you're concerned."

"But-"

"Shush." Anything else he would've said died on his tongue when something soft pressed again his lips and that soft thing just so happened to be your fingertips as you gave him a firm look. "Raihan, I don't want your apologies." You slowly removed your hand. "Because there's absolutely nothing for you to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong and if you did I would've sicked Silver on you long ago so we're pretty even." He took a moment to just stare at his hands before one ever SO slowly reached up to touch his lips...And his face heated from the explosion of red blasting across it. Not that you seemed to notice as you continued speaking. "So don't feel bad about anything. If anything just do what you need to and everything will be ok in the end."

....He finally pulled his hand away, stared at it, before he shook his head and allowed his hands to flop to his sides to look at you. "You ..certainly got a way with words, Sassy."

"Well so do you."

SMACK!!

Raihan blinked when you facepalmed yourself along with giving off a loud groan. You swore your memory was worse than a confused spinda's! It took a couple moments to realize Raihan was still looking at you so you coughed.

"Oh. Uh. Y-Yeah. I remember that now. ...My opinion still stands though. You didn't do anything wrong. Seriously. There wasn't anything for you to apologize for." You paused again for a good moment. "Oh. That reminds me. I never got to thank you for taking care of the guys for me while everyone was in the hospital."

His free hand waved you off. "Think nothing of it. Lee's a good friend so I would've done it even if no one asked. If anything I should thank them for helping to introduce me to you."

"Psh. Yeah right." You leaned back against your arms and looked out onto the beautiful scene before you. The sight of Silver splashing around without a care in the world and interacting with the other few pokemon there was a cute sight to behold, especially since he didn't really interact with a lot of pokemon outside your little herd. Both of you remained silent just watching the pokemon play and felt the wind blow over you both. "....This really is a beautiful place." You mumbled to yourself making the man next to you blink. Your f/c eyes slowly turned up to the sky, watching the white fluffy cloud with just a small tint of grey to it go past the blue sky. "I'll give it to you, you picked a good spot for a first date. It's...a lot better than I thought it would be-"

"YES!!" You blinked around to him and caught him in the middle of a fist pump but he paused catching your head turned to him. "...Uh. I mean. *ahem*" He relaxed back again and casually attempted to walk that off. "Yeah. Thanks! I figured this would be a good idea since you don't like big crowds."

"....How do you know that? I never told you anything like that before."

"You didn't have to. I read your body language during the Wyndon celebration last year. You were so stiff and tense around a whole bunch of people you didn't like, and you kinda mentioned before you don't like flying so I kinda went with the next best thing." You stared at him. "What?"

"You...a-actually listened to what I said?" You stared at him wide eyed as he nodded at you. He-...actually listened to what you had said and understood you? Well, THAT was certainly a first. You hadn't expected him to actually listen to you- Even Piers had insisted upon you flying everywhere when you guys were after those hair weirdos even if they made you so uncomfortable and would've rather chased them by train. When was the last time another person actually did that wholeheartedly?

"W-Well I- Uh-" His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck as he looked nervous. "Ye-Yeah. I knew you probably be down to taking flygon for a ride so-...Heh. What better way for us to hang out than a little outing y'know? ...Also I was hoping that maybe I could get my pokemon to bond with your guard pokemon over there-" He nodded in Silver's direction. "-so I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit by a walking water fountain anymore."

"Oh. Uh...Yeah. That's my bad too...And you know I have more than one right?"

He looked at you for a moment before lighting up in a smile again. "Hey! That's great! We should totally have a poke-playdate!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! It's still early. There's plenty of time before we have to go back."

You hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"My pokemon may look big and bad but they're pretty tame," he assured you, "You don't worry about them harming anyone-"

"No. It's not that. If I let them out you might be biting off more than you can chew."

"Psh. Are you kidding me?" He rolled his eyes like you told him some kind of joke. "I'm the tamer of dragons." Your brow rose as he placed a hand to his chest smiling. "I can handle anything your crew can throw at me."

....

Raihan was not prepared for five tiny pokemon to suddenly dog pile his sitting form out of pure curiosity and as expected went down faster than a rock in water. You busted out laughing as your gengar sighed and just slipped out of the sun and into your shadow away from the light. By the time was finally able to sit up his jacket had a few grass stains rubbed into it and his bandanna was crooked and threatened to be taken away as Loki growled like a small dog and pulled on it with her little teeth trying to get it from his head.

"H-Hey! That's not a chew toy!"

Raihan made weak grabs at her but couldn't fully yank his arm due to the fact that he wouldn't risk accidentally hurting Blueberry. The small sylveon cooed out a pleased purr, surely a sign she liked him, and had her ribbons affectionately wrapped around his arm. Meanwhile he also had to worry about P.J. growling and attempting to viciously bite off one of his shoes, Gold rummaging through one of his jacket pockets curiously, and Harvest being the only one that wasn't causing trouble. In fact the pikachu was the only one even attempting to help in anyway.

"Pika-Pika! PI! KA! CHU!!," Harvest yelled out in frustration at P.J.. The poor electric type was pulling on the zigzagoon's tail attempting to free Raihan's foot from his maw.

You? You were laughing your tail off watching the entire thing. "SASSY!!" He finally managed to push part of the bandanna away from his face to look at you desperately. "A little help here!"

Eventually you obliged him and managed to set him free from your small herd admitting defeat. You didn't think he'd doubt you again after that. The rest of the day was....Alright. Raihan did let out his few pokemon and they true to his word were really tame. Especially his duraludon. It was strange seeing such a fierce beast on the field act like a puppy whenever Raihan pet it. Time slowly mosied by and you were just watching Gold attempt to take on Raihan's Goodra...only for the poor fighting type to yelp back his front half drenched in goo as he shivered. Sigh. That was going to be hard to wash off his fur later- You flinched when something orange was suddenly held up above both you and Raihan and you realized it was a phone. Raihan smiled and held it above you two as if ready to take a picture as he usually did before the dragon tamer suddenly stopped and then looked at you.

"Oh uh-...S-Sorry." He immediately apologized and lowered the hand holding the phone. "I-I usually take pictures so I must've did it without thinking. Should've asked first."

"No. It's alright," you assured. "But...I thought you only did that for battles?"

"Oh. W-Well I used too," he looked off to the side nervously. "I'd...u-usually take them after matches with Leon to never forget what I did wrong and to fix my mistakes in order to beat him...b-b-but nowadays I've been expanding my gallery. Fans seem to like the ones I take when on Flygon."

"Oh...Well I don't mind if you want to take a picture with me."

THAT had him pausing and staring back at you like you had just disappeared into thin air. "I-...W-W-Wait. Really!?"

You nodded. "I've been seen with gym leaders, Leon, and Sonia put me in two books at this point." You shrugged. "And Victor's shown me your photo gallery. You post pictures of yourself with fans all the time. I doubt anyone would care if you posted one with me."

Raihan stared at you thinking for a moment before smiling. "Yeah? That sounds awesome. But are you sure?"

"Absolutely! Besides, I'd like to see the faces of those sword and shield weirdos once it's posted."

That made Raihan laugh. And not that deep rumble chuckle that he did while flirting, but one that was deep, loud, and genuine as he smiled. "That's a good enough reason for me, Sassy! You're really living up to your nickname!" His hand reached up again. Smile back on his face as he leaned towards you a bit. "Say cheese!"

You obliged smiling as he aimed his phone at you. But you had no idea- When the flash went off. When the picture of you two were taken. When it was posted.

It would cause such a stir up in the future.

#Dragon's Treasure #pokemon shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword #pokemon sword and shield #reader x raihan #pokemon raihan x reader #raihan x reader #pokemon raihan

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tonytoponi · 3 months ago

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since seeing fall guy me and my mom reference the stupid "it's high noon at the edge of the universe" quote like every day. today i started to say "its high edge" and had to abruptly stop myself and walk away

#.txt #high edge at the nooniverse .................#thats the rule34 title

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heygirl-gosling · 3 months ago

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Stunt Guy BS (The Fall Guy 2024)

My Brain Itch Scenes

The Original Brain Itch Scenes Q

The Holy Trinity of Extended Cut Scenes

Thumbs Up

Extended Cut Reaction Blog

I Bet Colt Seavers Loves Vinyls

Colt Seavers Heals Everything

Do you want to watch-- Yes.

When is it my turn?

It's High Noon at the Edge of the Universe

Colt + Jody

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trixcuomo · 4 months ago

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When keepin it lazy goes wrong

Meanwhile, Trixany hogging all the popcorn at her house...

Sharpen: Trixany, when are you going to take Mindy to meet Haris Pilton?

Trixany: Oh that? Uh... Iunno.

Sharpen: You don't know. Alright. You know she has her heart set on it.

Trixany: Ya know, Haris is pretty mean. Maybe I shouldn't--

Sharpen: And whatever happened to you and Haris tracking down the mysterious person Gul'dan married? People voted for that.

Trixany: Well. Uh, ya know, Sharpen? That was lowkey in another episode. It's like the Simpsons, it'll all go back to normal by the next Tumblr post, like nothing happened. That way, I can just do what I feel like--

Trixany: Actually, it's pretty rude of you to call me out and mention that.

Sharpen: Or the time you and Sunthraze got captured by Denathrius as his little love pets? How did that even end, back in the Shadowlands?

Trixany: *chokes on popcorn*

Sharpen: And the high-noon at the edge of the canon universe thing? You left that unfinished, too.

Trixany: *still choking, has to drink Kaja-Cola*

Sharpen: And what happened to Haris being the Loa of the Fourth wall? You and Coco were supposed to go ask Bwonsamdi about that, over in Ardenweald.

Trixany: Don't drag my sister into this! I'm the one solely responsible--Actually, okay. Yes, drag my sister into this. I don't wanna get blamed for everything!

Sharpen: Yeah, there's a lot of stuff you just left hanging. Are people supposed to keep track of all your dropped plotlines?

Trixany: ...

Sharpen: Or maybe they are like alternative timelines, and they all coexist together. Peacefully. Each in its own turn, something, something.

Trixany: I can't! I can't just finish it all at once. These ideas, they take time to flesh out, and develop. I can't just rush it, mash them all together!

Sharpen: You just don't feel like it, do you?

Trixany: I honestly didn't think anyone noticed.

Sharpen: You had better wrap things up before dragging my beloved girlfriend into your shennanigans, is all I'm saying. Maybe we don't even want to get invited to meet Haris, if you can't be bothered to follow up with us. You think you're some hot-shot Horde B-celebrity, but other people are people too, Trixany! My Mindy deserves the best.

Trixany: ... We? You two are a WE now?

Sharpen: Hrmph!! *snatches the popcorn*

Trixany: Yes. I am sure she does. Thank you, Sharpen. I'm glad you showed me the error of my ways. I will fix Mindy--uh, fix all of it, for dearest Mindy.

#desperate-alts-lives #mindy noooo

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oopsallfanfic · 7 months ago

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Chapter 24: Unkind Eyes

Anxious was one of many words you could use to describe how you were feeling at the edge of campus on your first day. You gaze across the sprawling green at the steel and glass buildings that make up the main campus. Excitement filled your stomach with butterflies as you began your trek to the main lecture hall. Your schedule had major classes sprawled throughout the week, with your core curriculum snapping in before or after. Fortunately, you were able to get most classes before or around noon so you’d get out of school pretty early. You were making your way to your first class, it was a basic course every student in every major took but broken up by major, class, and split evenly by class size. When you’d described it to Chiyo and Hanai they compared it to a university entry class they had to include in their first-semester curriculum, though theirs was more of an entry point for undergrads to get to know the university better and make new friends. As much as you’d desperately “wanted” to get to know the university better, you knew that this course being across many years would only mean it’s more important than the description let on.

The hallways leading up to the lecture hall had been fairly sparse, students were either in the midst of class or on their way, though that changed as the time turned to 15 till the next hour. That’s when the halls flooded with a mix of young adults trying to get to their next classes. You gravitated towards the edge of the hall as people pressed past, only continuing to the door just around the corner once traffic had thinned out. The door to your class had been propped open, the inside revealing a simple desk and podium in the front half of the room with a board behind it and a steady escalation of desks on platforms slightly higher than the previous. It should be noted that you were fairly early to class but students had already found seats scattered around the room. A bulky blonde with a tail wrapped around his chair and resting in his lap fiddled with something inside his bag, he was the only student who sat front and center in the room. Another young man with a sturdy frame and dark hair sat in the first column cleaning his rectangular frames. Near the back were two students with their heads down, the furthest had a hood over their head, and in front of them was a heteromorph with a blackbird head. You made your way over to the middle of the farthest column, sliding across from the heteromorphic young man. Before you had even finished rummaging in your bag and setting up your desk a tap came on your shoulder from behind, you looked over your shoulder and followed the end of a blue sweatshirt to see the dark-haired young man come to greet you. He was so tall your neck strained to meet his eyes towering over you. His stern look broke the illusion he was trying to be nice, his voice wouldn’t help either.

“Good morning, my name is Iida Tenya,” Iida’s voice was deep like most men his age, his tone reminded you of your father’s when he’d talk formally. His hand reached out for a shake, you hesitantly clasped on as he shook. Despite the size difference, his hand gently held yours as a small smile spread across his lips.

“Hi, I’m Hamamoto (y/n),” You felt a little more at ease around the stranger despite his stern demeanor.

“What school did you come from?” Iida’s question was harmless, just small talk you’d make. Though small talk was never a strong suit of yours, palms growing sweaty as the social anxiety crept in.

“Aldera High, you?” Politely responding to the conversation.

“Somei Academy,” He smiled boldly, you recognized the school as a private academy leading you to think that this young man might be snobbish.

“The private school? I’m sure you get good grades, huh?” You pressed for information, wanting to understand him better before jumping to conclusions.

“I don’t mean to brag,” He blushed and glanced at the front door as a few students began to trickle in. “But I did receive some of the top scores in my grade.”

“I guess it’s good to know some of this country’s next heroes won’t be airheads,” You chuckled. He didn’t seem too impressed by your comment.

“Well I just came over to say, let’s have a great year!” Iida bowed his head and found another student to talk to. A young lady with a pair of headphones wrapped around her neck seemed to be his next victim.

“He did that to all of us,” The Heteromorph spoke as soon as Iida left earshot. His voice was lower pitched than you imagined, you look over at the desk to see a set of startling red eyes on top of his crossed arms. A much lighter hue than Bakugo’s you noted. The Heteromorph yawned and propped his head up on his hand as he turned to face you. “Tokoyami Fumikage, by the way.”

“Hamamoto (y/n),” You said, looking over as students began to sit around the areas closer to you.

At the sound of your voice and name, the hooded student behind Tokoyami stirred from his nap. He picked up his head slowly enough that you didn’t notice his movements. He could see through the crack of light he allowed himself that you were sitting diagonally from him, so nauseatingly close. He watched and listened as you and Tokoyami continued talking, speculating what the course would be about. That was until an ashy blonde strutted up to your desk.

“Kacchan!” You were surprised the two of you ended up in the same class. When you speculated how you’d be divided for this course you’d assume it was random, but Katsuki predicted it would be by ranked scores. Ultimately when you finished your schedule and got the official results, Katsuki was right and won a few yen off of you.

“Hammy,” He gave you a small smile before swinging his bag on the desk in front of yours.

“Tokoyami, this is my boyfriend Bakugo Katsuki,” You held a hand out to present the young man, his feet slamming down on top of the desk as he leaned back. “Katsuki this is Tokoyami Fumikage.”

“Yo,” Tokoyami flashed him the peace sign, Katsuki nodded back at him. Your conversation was halted as Iida made a return, his hands flat as blades as they gestured to Katsuki’s feet.

“Take your feet off that desk now,” Iida’s commanded.

“Huh?” Katsuki’s calm demeanor melted into a deep scowl as he whipped his head up to see Iida towering over him.

“It’s the first day and you’re already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property, you cretin!” Iida wrinkled his nose as Katsuki planted his foot on the ground and leaned forward.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Katsuki scoffed, “Did your old school put a stick up your ass? Or were you born with it?”

“Katsuki,” You chided, slapping a hand across his shoulder. He huffed and leaned back, taking a less threatening pose.

“U-uh...” The young man's attitude flustered Iida. Katsuki’s personality wasn’t one he had run into very often around his school, not that he’d want to draw attention from those sorts. “Let’s start over, I’m Iida Tenya from Somei Private Academy. Nice to meet you.”

“Somei, huh?” Katsuki spat in Iida’s face, half standing out of his seat in position to swing. “So you must think you’re better than me. I’m going to have fun tearing you a new one.”

“Katsuki,” You warned, almost out of your seat, “Cool it, it’s the first day of classes.”

“You would threaten me?” Iida was shocked that such a hot-headed person would be admitted to a prestigious school like U.A., especially if his attitude was so volatile. “You’re own classmate? Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“Hey,” You chimed in, now up and between the two young men with an arm pressed against Katsuki’s chest. You turned your attention to Iida as he turned his baffled look to you. “He scored higher than all of us on those exams.”

“Impossible, there’s no way-”

Before Iida could shun away the possibility that Katsuki had done better than himself in the exams, the blonde took a swiped over your head at him. You shoved Katsuki back, his chair knocking over and slamming against your own. The clanging brought the room silent, everyone’s eyes were between the three of you. The second felt like an eternity as a dozen strangers watched the situation unfold. Your vision of the class waned as you passed between faces until you came upon the newest classmate, his hair was unmistakably messy and deep green. Midoriya Izuku.

A deep growl rumbled in Katsuki’s chest as his eyes laid on the newest classmate. Midoriya looked up at the cluster of students and beamed a bright smile into the otherwise tense situation. You could feel the sweat on your lip as it curled into a hesitant smile. He gave you a small wave which Iida took as an invitation to drop back and introduce himself to Midoriya, you gave him a curt nod before turning your back to him. Katsuki scowled at the back of the room, arms crossed tightly around his chest.

“What was that about?” You whispered harshly, trying to ignore the feeling of people staring.

“He was acting all high and mighty like he was better than me.” Katsuki grumbled before he added, “Better than us.”

“And if he is?” You asked him, searching his eyes for an answer. His head snapped to look at you dead on, a fire lit behind his eyes.

“Not fucking likely.” He picked up his chair and threw himself into it. You sensed the conversation was over and scooted your chair back into place before settling in. You met Tokoyami’s concerned gaze with one of your own, giving him a deadpanned thumbs up. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the hooded student had lifted his head. You turned your head to get a better view of the person but were met with the cold angry eyes of someone all too familiar. Todoroki Shoto glared at you, the feeling of bitter disappointment and rage in the air was palpable between the hot-headed blonde in front of you and the heterochromatic boy behind you. Instead of conversing with him or acknowledging his presence, you turned your attention to the front of the room as your professor entered the lecture hall.

Your canvas crossbody sat in your lap as you waited for your turn to see the dean, your keys jingled with each jolt your anxious leg sent up. You were unsure if this visit was related to the confrontation between Iida and Katsuki, but being called down to the dean's office on the first day didn’t give you hope for your future reputation at U.A. The only other person in the secretary’s office with you was the secretary herself, beyond the double oak doors was Nezu. You’d seen the creature itself, albeit a hologram version, but there were rumors you refused to believe were true. It’s been said that Nezu was a lab creation from early quirk experiments. Some even said he was not even a man, but a chimera creature with the appearance of a mouse, dog, bear, and cat. You never wanted to believe rumors but as you walked up to the double doors you couldn’t help but wonder what awaited on the other side of the door, mankind's creation or a mythical creature.

The secretary called you forward and led you to the doors, opening them up to you. Out of respect, you fell into a deep bow, but out of habit, you didn’t look up at him when you entered. The doors creaked shut behind you as you stood straight.

“You requested to see me, sir?” You brought yourself to look higher but didn’t look past the mahogany desk he sat at.

“Please sit, Miss. Hamamoto,” His voice was higher and softer than you recalled. Did you dare look up? Nezu chuckled as you began to walk over to him, your eyes not going above the desk. “Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite.”

When you finally looked up the only word that crossed your mind was Cute. Your worries about a mythological creature and manmade abominations eased at the sight of the mouse-like creature that met your eyes with kindness behind them.

“No doubt you’ve heard rumors of me being some frightening creature,” Nezu’s eyes squinted as a smile grew across his smushed snout.

“Yeah,” You laughed nervously, rubbing the sweat from your hands onto your pants. “Quite a few, but you don’t look so frightening.”

“There is some truth in what they say,” Nezu said slyly as he pulled an electric kettle off of the corner of his desk and poured it into a teapot in front of you. A tea set for two with blue floral designs was set up in between the two of you. Before he could give you a second to process his comment, he continued, “The teachers have their communal kettle in a break room downstairs, but I often find they don’t clean it. Plus I like tea at my desk. Would you like some?”

“Oh, uh, no,” You stuttered, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“You’re not at all what I pictured when I was told about you,” Nezu twisted a small timer and looked you over. You felt it rude to interject with your comment about how he was much smaller than you anticipated, so you let him continue. “I was expecting a bloodthirsty crazed teenager, but you seem polite. Your grades are phenomenal to boot.”

“Thank you, sir,” You began to worry why you were here now. “May I ask why I’ve been called in?”

“Ah, right, that,” Nezu felt like the bearer of bad news for you, though he knew it was the action he already said he’d take when the young man came to him. “Unfortunately it’s come to our attention that you were involved in a confrontation, one that led you to use your quirk.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and a lump so thick it was hard to breathe lodged itself in your throat. Haru was good on his promise. He went to your dean just weeks before the semester began to talk with the dean about a few students who took the entrance exam. Haru tried his best to get Nezu to see Bakugo Katsuki was also a troublesome student and needed to be rejected much like he pushed for you to be. Nezu didn’t give in to his wishes but promised to look into the event himself before rejecting students. With Nezu researching the incident through public records, he was able to find that you were named as a bystander. Though his connections through the police force keyed him in on some unpublished information, you were heavily involved.

“Using your quirk outside of regulated areas,” Nezu continued, “Much like the neighborhood this altercation occurred in, can pose a danger to yourself and others around you. Do you understand?”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

“Not only is it against the law without parental supervision, but it's my understanding that you had some new developments to your abilities via a ‘quirk spurt’. As someone with sparse knowledge about their developing quirk, it’s best to learn as much as you can about your abilities so that you don’t harm yourself or others. Schools like our very own U.A. are designed exactly for that. Which is why I’ve decided to not have you expelled.” The weight on your shoulder fell off, allowing you to take a shivering breath.

“Thank you, sir,” You said finally, a grateful smile on your lips.

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Nezu pulled out a shiny school folder, one you’d see information packets in for a class. He flipped through it before handing it to you. “This is some information on counseling, you’ll be seeing a counselor here free of charge for us to gauge your psyche. As well as a chemistry course I want you to add to your schedule. These are mandatory and a condition of your continued admittance to this school. You’ll engage in these meetings and classes for the remainder of the semester, I’ll meet periodically with the counselor, and then we’ll talk together at the end of the semester to see if you need more sessions.”

“Another student was involved in the incident,” You began wondering if Haru ruined Katsuki’s chances at U.A.. “Is- Are you going to talk to him too?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss other students and their academic discipline with a peer,” Nezu smiled slyly as he continued. “I can say, however, that after reading the official documents any person acting in that situation was acting in self-defense as an adult attacked.”

“Thank you, sir,” You stood and bowed to him, the folder clasped to your chest. You were relieved knowing that Nezu wasn’t completely swayed by Haru’s words. “I’ll be going now if you don’t need anything else.”

“Yes, that’s all. You may go,” Nezu said, waving goodbye as you made your way to the door. When the door had clicked shut, the timer on his desk went off. The tea, Nezu thought as he busied his hands with the teapot. He clicked a pager button on his desk to reach his secretary, it buzzed softly at her desk. “Miss Ishiyama?”

“Yes sir?” She responded.

“I just had some tea prepared. Would you like some?” Nezu started pouring before he even heard her answer, preparing the tea how he liked it first.

“That sounds nice sir, I’ll be right in.”

When you got home late that afternoon you told Katsuki not to come over since you had to do your homework and readjust your schedule to fit another class. Truthfully you finished all of that in an hour but wanted some time to process and be angry. You sighed heavily into your elbows, the floor never felt more comfortable than now as you lay on the shag rug alone while reflecting. The day was long and stressful, from tense glares from Todoroki throughout your training exercises in the morning to the meeting with Dean Nezu in the afternoon. You had told Katsuki about the incident at the train station with the Todoroki siblings but never said their names, and were unsure how he’d react if you told him that the guy you saved was in your class and giving you the death stare constantly. Nothing good would come of it for sure, and nothing good would come out of Katsuki hearing that Haru snitched on the both of you to the school.

Haru was true to his word and told the school about the altercation, incriminating not one but two students recently admitted. You didn’t think of his declaration, waving it off after the wake. After months of never seeing him much less talking to him, Haru snitched. His name lit a fire in your chest each time you said it in your mind, imagining the young man you fell for just months ago. You gritted your teeth as you sat up after an hour of staring at the space between the floor and your couch. His stupid face wouldn’t leave your mind and drove you to feel guilty. You weren’t thinking about Haru in a romantic or even sexual way, but you felt bad just for thinking about another guy after turning Katsuki away. Your boyfriend was home probably eating dinner with his parents, and you sat on the floor alone thinking about another man.

At the thought of food your stomach rumbled, the bowl of grapes and crackers you had after school wouldn’t suffice as dinner. With the hour rolling later, you had limited options since you hadn’t gone grocery shopping in days. Though, a bowl of noodles from the corner store doesn’t sound too bad. You thought. You looked down at your clothes, athleisure may have been comfy for home but going out you’d rather wear some jeans at least. You slipped on a pair and slid into a sweatshirt to combat the chilly night. After sliding on your canvas loafers you began your short trek to the corner store. You wandered the aisles of the unfamiliar place, though its layout was similar to most mom-and-pop stores you’d seen. An aisle for miscellaneous house things including soap and litter, another for snacks and soups, and another for sweet treats. There was an aisle for adult beverages but you steered clear of it just in case. It was never illegal for you as a minor to venture into that aisle but it always felt like it was. You grabbed your ramen bowl and a few groceries before heading to the checkout. As you passed the frozen food your pace slowed at the sight of ice cream in their tiny containers and crinkly packaging. Fuck it, you thought immediately, a hand hovering over the handle. Hamamoto Akira’s stern voice rang in your head, “Really? Didn’t you just rank 6th overall in your class during training? Do you think ice cream is a good idea?”

Just because I can’t throw as far doesn’t mean I'm inferior, you thought. Your mind wandered to Todoroki Shoto, who you got to see in action. He was impressive, but you still couldn’t help but feel the icy chill he sent down your spine when he looked at you. Maybe to him, I am inferior. Your mind started to spiral in the refrigerated foods aisle of a convenience store, not ideal for your first day of college perhaps. However, it was inevitable as all your hopes and dreams were altered when Haru entered your life. His fight with Katsuki may have solidified your feelings for both young men, but the after-effects made your future uncertain. Especially with your added course load. You shook yourself out of your mind and concentrated on making your way one step at a time to the front counter to check out.

The sliding doors pinged as you left the store, making the short trek back to your apartment. It wasn’t late into the night but there were already drunks stumbling their way home, a few passed as you steered around their staggered pace. A few whistled as you passed or even called out to you, but you ignored the calls. You could feel your chest tighten as anxiety swept over, to keep yourself calm you had to reason with yourself. The apartment wasn’t too far away now, and if someone did approach you there would be hell to pay. Taekwondo and Jujutsu classes were cheap to start over your break and you had nothing but time to spare, but it’s been a while since you practiced. You picked up your pace and quickly made your way safely within the walls of the residents-only area, finally allowing you to breathe out. You strode over to the elevator and hopped on when the doors opened. Just as the doors clicked to close someone shouted out to you.

“Hold the door please!” A man shouted, the sound of his shoes slapping against the floor quickly made its way to you. Your hand flew between the doors to trigger the sensor, allowing it to open up again for the man on the other side. “Thanks.”

“No problem-“ You stopped short as a flash of recognition crossed both of your faces. His indigo eyes and wild purple hair were unmistakable, Shinso Hitoshi. You felt your skin crawl as your body remembered the way he influenced your movements at the entrance exam. You contemplated moving past him and making a lame excuse like needing to pick up your mail, but it was too late. He entered the lift and the doors promptly shut behind him. You can handle less than a minute with him, You thought, right?

“No small talk this time around?” Shinso inquired, his face in his usual fish eye tired and deadpan.

Thought you didn’t like it, was all you could think to say but didn’t want to respond in case he did it again. All day your mind had been cloudy and your talk with Nezu didn’t help either. Now Shinso appeared out of nowhere to ruin your day further.

“Oh, I see,” Shinso sounded disappointed, realizing you wouldn’t respond because of his quirk. It was always that way for him. Once others caught on to what triggered his ability, they became distant. It was difficult to make friends like this when everyone avoided saying anything to him in case Shinso decided to brainwash them. Over time he turned bitter, sometimes regretting his quirk when he felt low and there was no one to support him. Shinso realized though that although his quirk was a tad taboo there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to prove others wrong. He wanted to prove he wasn’t a bad guy deep down. Here you were, quick to see his ability and refuse to talk to him. “I’m not going to do it, you know. It is technically illegal for me to use my quirk anyway.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about talking to you,” You spat, refusing to look over at him as his stance shifted. “You not only violated my body but nearly ruined my chances at getting into U.A.”

“I’m sorry about that,” His tone was different, causing you to turn your head enough to see him better out of the corner of your eye. His head hung low as he focused on the spot between his shoes. “At least you got in, right?”

“Y-yeah,” You hesitated to brag about it, unsure now if he may have been punished for his quirk usage in the exam. “Hero course, you?”

“General Studies,” Shinso sighed heavily, picking his head up to look at the crack of the doors. “They encouraged me to try next semester though.”

“Maybe you can transfer a little easier now that you’re in the school,” You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Shinso. He was genuine when he apologized, and like you, he was reaping the consequences of his actions.

“That’s the idea, but,” He sighed, meeting your eye finally, “It’s kind of hard to get to the level you all will be at without the training you do. They’re pinning me up for failure if I can’t compete at the same level.” The elevator doors opened on Shinso’s floor, and he began to walk out. He looked over his shoulder to you before the doors shut, “See ya around.”

Shinso left you with another weight on your heart. You mulled over his words as the doors opened on your floor, adjusting the weight of the bags in your hands as you walked down the hall. As much as you could empathize with the situation, there wasn’t much you could do about it. The school’s decision was final, but you wondered if there was something you could do about his training. With very different emitter quirks and a rough start to your relationship, you pondered if he even wanted or would accept your help. You began to suspect that perhaps he brainwashed you again just now in the elevator to get you to think about helping him. Shinso’s brainwashing felt different though, what you felt was genuine sympathy for him.

#a03 #fan fiction #a03 fan fiction #fan fic #a03 fan fic #mha #friends to lovers #slow burn #mha au #my hero academia

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pamalawag · 9 months ago

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Life Cycle of a Wave

I have the most beautiful name, fit for a princess. I will always thank Ma and Pa for giving it to me. Before they moved to Davao, it was only my parents and kuya Emil. They lived in Mati then, where Papa said it was always scorching hot, but lucky for them they had a small hut by the sea, next to the big resort where Ma and Pa worked. Papa told me he cleaned the pools and fixed the aircon; Mama cleaned the guest rooms every night, even if no one stayed in them. When they were really lucky, Papa’s boss, the owner of the resort, let my kuya Emil wander around the resort when he couldn’t be left behind in their payag, which was almost all the time. Eventually, when kuya Emil became big enough to help Pa clean the pools, Mama got pregnant with me. My parents didn’t want to leave the sea behind. It was the only life they had ever known. But with two kids, and a measly wage of 300 pesos per day between the two of them, they figured their chances were better elsewhere, like Davao. They managed to find a tiny room for rent in Sasa where, late at night when everyone else was asleep, and even the local drunkards were passed out in their own homes, you could hear the sea’s gentle splashing against the concrete seawall. Two weeks after they moved, Mama gave birth to me, with the help of the barangay midwife, and named me Delmar, of the sea.

II.

Papa works all day in the wharf, manning the barges that leave for Samal. He leaves at dawn and goes home around midnight, smelling heavily of saltwater and sweat. I’m the only one awake around that time, listening to the waves and thinking about what a good swimmer I’d make. I could smell Papa’s damp smell before I could see him come in. He would open the door very slowly, careful not to let it hit Mama or kuya Emil or Jomar or little Jilyan, whoever slept closest to the door that night. Then he would see me, sitting by the only window of our house looking out into the water, and hold up a finger to his lips and smile.

Mama leaves the house as early as noon for her own job, which I think is the best job in the world. She sells all kinds of clothes at the night market in Roxas. Bright floral dresses, every kind of high heeled shoe, a thousand blouses arranged by color in the racks. One morning, she and Papa gave me a light blue dress with thin straps. Papa likes blue. He said it reminds him of when he and Mama first met.

When they had gone, I tried on the dress. I loved how light it felt. I loved the feel of the fabric under my fingertips, like fine sand. I stepped out into our street and into the daylight. I hated my Grade 9 adviser for forcing me to get a more school-appropriate semi-kalbo haircut. It had taken more than a year and copious begging to let my hair grow out, almost to my shoulders. I could have dyed it blonde, or green, have it cut in layers, and then I could be truly beautiful. Maybe I could even be Miss Universe. Now it’s all gone.

I climbed up on the seawall right on the edge of our barangay, looking out into the blue sea which glittered in the sun just like my dress. I walked slowly along the edge of the seawall, pretending like it was a runway and the sound of the waves were applause from the crowd.

“Gwapaha oy!” a harsh voice suddenly called out. I turned and saw three burly men in green long-sleeved shirts and orange helmets. They were sneering as I carefully climbed down the seawall. I kept my head down, scared that they might start talking to our neighbors about the bald boy in a girl’s dress. I glimpsed two more men wearing similar helmets on the other end of the street, pointing at the other houses. One of them was taking pictures.

“Where do you live, ‘day?” asked the first man. He had the broadest shoulders of the three of them. I pointed to our street.

“Are your parents home?”

I shook my head.

“This your sister’s dress?”

“Papa and Mama gave it,” I squeaked.

The men burst into laughter. “Your parents must be blind, ‘day. I bet you have a big penis, how could your parents miss that?” The first man crouched down until he was close enough that I smelled the cigarette smoke and tar from his shirt. “What’s your name, ‘day?”

“Delmar.”

“Listen closely, Delia”—he paused, let his companions snigger— “take off that dress and start packing your things. Your pretty clothes might go to waste if they end up buried in the rubble.”

I ran to our narrow street; ran so fast I didn’t notice my dress getting caught in scattered nails along the way. For a time, at least, the dress had been perfect, beautiful. I was beautiful.

III.

I still pass by the rubble of our neighborhood sometimes if I have a few pesos to spare for jeepney fare. Papa still works in the wharf. None of us could ever let go of the sea. We moved somewhere in Agdao; a friend of Mama’s managed to find a new apartment for us, just as cramped as our old house, but farther from the sea. So Papa sometimes doesn’t go home for days.

Mama quit her work in Roxas after a bomb exploded there one night, not too far from their stall, which killed six people. So she stopped bringing new clothes. Soldiers swarmed Roxas the next day. I’ve come to realize this is a city of soldiers. There’s a military camp not too far from Sasa. So when the bulldozers came to demolish our houses and our neighbors began throwing stones to keep them away, military trucks were quick to respond and beat everyone they saw clutching a rock. I can understand. Our neighborhood loves the sea, why else would we stand our ground? Even Papa almost got arrested for shouting at the soldiers.

If there is one good thing to come out of all this, it’s that everyone passing through our old neighborhood, now nothing more than rubble and some concrete doorways somehow still standing, can catch a glimpse of the sea, even for just a moment. Enough time to remind them we lived here once, listened to the back and forth of waves every afternoon, woke up to something vast and beautiful every day.

#prose #proseph #fictionph #artph #queer #lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbt

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helenaheissner · 11 months ago

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A Dream of Summer Rain: Chapter 4 (Waited Long Enough)

The Sea of Glass withstood the weight of Lacy’s wrath as she bounded across it. She attuned to the absence of sound all around her, and it pleased her. She could bring this with her, and shut out all the noise forever. Create a world in which she was not always drowning in the endless abyss of cacophony.

She came to the edge of the dam that held back the sea. The wall of clear, pristine glass that extended upwards and downwards into infinity, wrapping around her universe in its entirety. She placed a hand on it, and she raged and struck and kicked and clawed.

It would not budge.

She retrieved her Star from the obsidian depths of her twisted heart, and she tried again with similar results.

She screamed, and the glass shook.

She smiled, and she screamed as loud and high as she could. With one hand she gripped the sound and increased the volume measure by measure, while the other spun to increase the pitch more and more until obliteration. She became the Storm, and the Storm became her, sound and fury, signifying the end of all things.

She launched herself upon the world, and Earth’s cities fell to her screams and her fists, to the oceans she raised and set forth upon the coasts, to the lightning she called down.

Her family came with her, crossing the Sea of Glass on their mounts, riding forth into the world to help her raze it and conquer it. They rounded up the leaders and cut their throats, fertilized the soil of their new land with the crimson blood of the guilty and the damned.

She wore a Crown of Ice and Starlight, and her cold kingdom spread its tendrils across the land and choked all who disobeyed. She crossed the seas and carried glaciers with her, launched them across the sky and into the settlements of her inevitable subjects. She settled into her castle in the Atlantic, a floating ice fortress upon which she ruled and could traverse the world, to maintain order, to keep everything finally, blissfully, utterly, silent.

***

Lacy woke up at 10 AM the next day, shocked at having not sweated through her sheets in spite of the nightmare. She patted all around her, just to make sure that it was real. It was. She was here, and this was her.

She showered, shaved, and ate breakfast before leaving, and she arrived at Gwen’s cabin at noon. Having to haul herself from bed before eleven had been an ordeal, but Lacy forced herself through it. She wore sweatpants rather than her usual pajama pants, along with a sleeping t-shirt a size too big for her. She knocked on the door, and Gwen answered after five minutes. The blonde-haired mage wore a navy blue flannel bathrobe, no makeup, no jewelry. She held a steaming mug of coffee, pitch black by the scent of it, in one hand while she ran the other through her thick golden locks. A few of her nails were chewed down to the nub, and heavy bags resided under her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lacy asked.

Gwen didn’t answer with words, but rather reached into the pocket of her robe and retrieved a packet of seeds: wheat.

“What’s-”

“What do you think?” Gwen said.

“Where-”

“Behind the cabin. I have a clear slot of land,” Gwen said.

“When-”

“Now.”

“Who?” Lacy asked.

“You. Just you.”

“Why?” Lacy balked.

“Why do you think?” Gwen asked.

“I really have no idea,” Lacy said.

“Wax on, wax off,” Gwen said.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Never seen the Karate Kid?”

“What’s that?” Lacy asked.

Gwen took a long sip of her coffee. “I have much to teach you. Starting with this.”

“How?”

“Look on the back.”

Lacy obliged, and found instructions on how deep to plant them and how much water to give them- so on, so forth.

“Waiting for something?” Gwen asked.

Lacy narrowed her eyes. She wanted to protest, wanted to complain, wanted to demand to know something useful. Her parents were dead, and monsters were after her- she needed to know how to fight, how to defend herself, not how to cultivate crops.

However, the unyielding stare Gwen gave her was that of a woman who would skin someone alive for demanding anything of her before her third cup of coffee. Lacy opted to save her protestations for a later occasion. “Do I get a shovel?

Gwen provided her with one, then directed her to the cabin’s backyard. It was an empty stretch of flat field, covered in grass, extending about a hundred yards. Gwen placed herself on the back deck in a rocking chair and pulled out a fresh paperback novel.

Lacy started digging a row in the dirt. Her muscles throbbed after only an hour, but by then she’d only finished half of the row. Gwen gave her an unsympathetic look, and so Lacy kept going. She focused her breathing, drank the cool sunlight through her denuded skin. The spark in her heart flared repeatedly as she worked.

“So, why exactly am I doing this?” Lacy finally asked.

“Because you’re young and untaught and in terrible shape,” Gwen said.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Hey, you asked,” Gwen said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag, blowing out a puff of white smoke. “Look, I know this seems abstract, but you’ve gotta bear with me. I’m guessing you have no idea how magic actually works?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Okay, basically: every night, Starlight reaches the Earth from Outer Space. Once it hits the planet, it becomes Stardust, which is what fuels magic. While there are workarounds, as a general rule us mages are limited by the amount of Stardust in an area at a given time. It replenishes each night, but if it’s all used up in an area before the end of the day, it won’t come back until it gets a fresh Starlight bath that night.”

Lacy tore a hunk from the earth, poured out a few seeds, and placed them in the ground before covering them with the upturned dirt. “Okay, okay, interesting, but what does that have to do with-”

“What you’re doing is getting some repetitions in so you can use magic more easily. It’s all about efficiency, and how efficiently you burn Stardust depends on the amount of practice you’ve had, and on your physical condition. Think of this as basic training on both of those fronts. You already have the ability, but you need to work on honing it. Starting small, with these crops, is gonna come in handy. Because when you get back here tomorrow, they will be ready for harvest, and you’ll have taken your first steps towards being able to use your powers on command.”

“Okay, but how?”

Gwen twirled the cigarette in her fingers like a pen, the burning stub narrowly missing her flesh with each rotation. “Mages gather and release Stardust all the time without even meaning to. So when they’re doing something related to their Magical Inclination, small amounts of Stardust are channeled into it. Right now, you can barely use your powers, because, as noted, you’re green and out of shape. But with practice on something like this, you’ll build up some muscle for it, and eventually you’ll be able to burn Stardust efficiently and on command.”

“Okay, but-”

“And if you can’t take my word on day one of your training, then I’m not gonna be able to help you.”

Lacy offered no response.

“Lacy?”

“Okay, I’ll take your word,” Lacy said, with the utmost reluctance. She would give this a day to see if it was bullshit or not.

When she finished the first seed packet, Gwen tossed her another, and then another after that. By the time Lacy finished them all, the sun had set, and her arms and legs threatened to snap off. She collapsed onto the ground, and looked over to her left at the three rows of grain crops she’d dug and planted. Gwen appeared above her and offered her a hand up. Lacy ignored it and picked herself off the ground.

“Good work,” Gwen said, withdrawing her hand slowly. “Come back tomorrow and you’ll see the dividends.”

Lacy nodded, and then said good-bye for the evening and went home.

The walk was long and lonely. The night consumed the sky, and she hobbled on her sore legs into the secluded neighborhood she called home. This better not have been a waste of time, Lacy thought. ‘Cause if it is, then I really don’t know what my other options are.

Danny stood in their driveway, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Danny said in a flattened monotone. He paced up and down the driveway, and he waved when he saw Lacy. He held up his hand to stop her from going inside. “Yes, yes, that’s a good plan. Yeah, I like that plan. We’ll move all those units this month as well, Ma’am. Okay. Very good. You have a good-night as well.”

With that, he hung up. He spat on the ground next to him, then muttered, “Fucking cunt.”

“Talking to corporate?” Lacy asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said with venom. “She says hi, by the way.”

“Lovely,” Lacy rolled her eyes. God, that awful bitch- seemed like Danny was on the verge of a heart attack after any conversation at all with her these days.

“You weren’t here when I got home. Where’ve you been?”

“Cultivating crops.”

Danny arched a massive eyebrow. “Is that a metaphor?”

“Yes,” Lacy lied. She didn’t want to explain everything to Danny- in the unlikely event he believed her about magic and ghouls, he’d try to get involved. That would complicate things- for one thing, he’d wanna know why he was just finding out about this now, something Lacy didn’t have a good answer for beyond ‘I’m a pussy.’ It was easier to keep him in the dark, at least for the time being.

“A metaphor for what?”

“I was seeing a therapist,” Lacy said.

“Oh thank God, finally!” Danny exclaimed. “Seriously, Lace, that’s great to hear.”

“Thanks.”

Lacy followed him inside to find steak cooling in the cast iron skillet, the aroma of fatty red meat heavy and tantalizing in the air. Lacy sat down at the kitchen table and rested her chin on the wood. “Can I have some steak?”

“Wait, you want food?” Danny asked. “People-food instead of processed food?”

“Yeah. So what?” Lacy said, raising her head off the table.

“Okay, cool it, I was just joking,” Danny said. “How do you want your steak?”

“Rare,” Lacy said. She sat there while Danny put a new steak onto the iron and cooked it, and she sat there alongside him to eat it. After that, they kept hanging out in the living room, sharing a bottle of vodka and then sitting down in front of the TV, where they watched one of Danny’s favorite cartoons about giant robots and their clinically depressed pilots. Lacy could barely understand any of what she was watching, but a warm glow filled her as she stayed out of her room for the second night in a row. She couldn’t remember the last time that happened. And for the first time in her recent memory, she slept a dreamless, restful sleep that night.

The next day, Lacy woke up at 9 AM. She wasn’t covered in sweat, and her stomach wasn’t groaning at her, and she didn’t dread the coming day. Her legs and chest itched as the first signs of follicular life began worming their way back out, the feeling and sight of which distressed her; but after a few minutes, she realized she couldn’t spend the whole day clawing at her own raw skin. She showered, and she shaved, and she dressed, and she went to go see Gwen as daylight spread its wingspan over the horizon. The city of Grand Rapids faded from earshot behind her as light poured through their sparsely populated end of town. Despite the millions of dollars Danny’s mom claimed to make, they couldn’t afford to live in the city proper, so they clung to the outside line like scavengers. Lacy didn’t mind so much- not living in the city itself kept the noise at bay.

She let the sounds slide over her, processed them but tried to avoid getting bogged down in them. If she let herself, she could spend the whole day just sorting through the various noises and layering them on top of each other… Or possibly taking them apart, though she wasn’t sure how to do that just yet. Maybe Gwen could help her figure it out.

Gwen’s cabin stood in the sunlight, and she sat on her front porch drinking a steaming mug of coffee. She sat on her rocking chair beneath the awning overhead. She wore her flannel bathrobe and read that day’s Grand Rapids Press. The bags under her eyes had grown heavier, and her hair looked somehow paler. “Morning,” she said, closing her newspaper and placing it and her coffee mug on a table next to her chair.

“Morning,” Lacy replied.

“How are you on this fine day?”

“My arms and legs feel like they’re full of cement.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. Wanna see something cool?” Gwen asked.

“Sure.”

“Come on.”

Gwen got up and showed Lacy around to the back of the cabin. The fruits of Lacy’s labors were self-evident: the wheat had overnight grown tall and proud and ready for harvest.

“Holy shit,” Lacy said. She’d… She’d done this! She’d done magic without even meaning to, and it was something tangible and… Not destructive! She did magic that she could see and touch and smell and that wasn’t going to destroy something! This was awesome!

“You’re bouncing up and down, you know,” Gwen said.

“Oh,” Lacy said. “Uh-”

Gwen chuckled. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad you’re excited. More glad you decided to trust me. Now, hop to it.”

“What?”

“Time to harvest this wheat,” Gwen said. She turned around and picked something up off the ground: a scythe. “Get to work.”

“But why?”

“Just trust me on this,” Gwen said. She handed Lacy the scythe and said, “Be careful with this thing. It’s a family heirloom.”

Lacy held the scythe in her hands- it was awkward, weighted too heavily on the bladed end. The wooden handle was painted black, and the curved blade on the end was sharp and reflective. She spent twenty minutes figuring out how to swing the thing without cutting herself open. After that, she began hacking down the crops. Her arms turned to gelatin after thirty minutes, and she hadn’t even finished a quarter of the crop. She dropped the scythe and let her arms hang limp. Beams of golden light reached down from an ocean of blue as wandering clouds sailed lazily across the world’s banner.

“Gwen?” Lacy asked, not moving from her stagnant position.

“Yes?” Gwen called from behind her.

Lacy turned her head to find her teacher sitting on the deck drinking a glass of cold brew coffee and reading yet another paperback novel. She sat in the rocking chair and wore a red sundress with a white floral pattern, a short skirt, and low neckline that exposed her dainty shoulders. She wore makeup and jewelry as well, lipstick that matched her dress, a bit of eyeshadow and mascara, and a silver-chain necklace with two golden rings bound around each other. Surprise washed over Lacy- she hadn’t expected this badass monster hunter to be so… Feminine in her down time. But why wouldn’t she be- a girl could be as feminine as she wanted to- it was her prerogative…

Envy tore through Lacy, and she tried to banish it by shaking her head rapidly.

“Is everything okay?” Gwen asked.

“Er… I’m fine. I just had a question.”

Gwen dog-eared her book and put it on the table, next to her coffee. “What’s up?”

“What’s a Magical Inclination? You mentioned it yesterday.”

“It’s the generalized type of magic a mage is born with a natural affinity for. Mine is necromancy. Yours is druidry.”

“Why are mages born with Inclinations?”

“No idea, we just are. I’m from a family of necromancers, so I was born a necromancer. You probably have a druid or two in the family tree, so you were born a druid.”

“I guess there’s a certain irony to that,” Lacy said, turning back around and cracking her knuckles.

“How do you mean?”

Lacy swatted a mosquito on her arm, then picked the scythe back up. “I hate the outdoors.”

Gwen chuckled. “Well then, O Cynical Pupil of Mine, out of curiosity, is there anything you don’t hate?”

Lacy lowered the scythe. “Hockey. Music. Jesus.”

Gwen paused briefly, then said, “What kind of music?”

Lacy began to chop the wheat once more, her arms full of gears spinning against built-up rust. “All kinds. There’s this one really old band I like called Mudhoney, and they’ve got this one album called…”

Lacy’s mouth kept running for a while, before finally Gwen interrupted her: “Lacy!”

Lacy stopped. “Hm?”

“You’ve been talking for ten minutes straight. Breathe.”

Lacy blinked rapidly, and then realized her throat was horrifically dry. “Can I have a glass of water?”

Gwen obliged, going inside and bringing out a glass. Lacy drank it in one large, awkward gulp. She held the scythe and looked at Gwen, who regarded her with a neutral expression. Her book was laid open on her lap, and she took a long, large drink of her cold brew.

“What about you?” Lacy asked.

“What about me?”

“What, uh, what do you like?”

Gwen chuckled again. “Books, mostly.”

“What are you reading?”

Gwen paused.

“What are you reading?” Lacy repeated.

“... Did you not get a look at the cover?”

“I did, I just didn’t recognize it.”

“You’ve never even heard of the title before?”

“No.”

“You’ve never heard of Lord of the Rings?”

“I don’t really read a lot, except manuals. What’s it about?”

Lacy heard Gwen blink a few dozen times as she heaved a deep sigh. She explained what it was about as Lacy continued her work. It took three hours, and her arms were brittle twigs after the fact. She placed the harvest all in one container, and she showed it to Gwen. She was a lot further into her book by then, perhaps halfway.

“Excellent work. Now, there’s one more thing you need to do out here,” Gwen said.

“What’s that?”

Gwen shoved a new packet into her hand. This one was for corn kernels.

“Seriously?” Lacy said.

“Wax on, wax off,” Gwen said.

“I still don’t know what that means.”

“Crop rotation,” Gwen said with a wave of her hand. “Plant these, same as yesterday.”

Lacy did as she was bid. After about an hour, Gwen brought her a ham and cheese sandwich on wheat bread with spinach and mayo. Lacy wolfed it down in less than thirty seconds. Gwen balked at her. “Sorry,” Lacy said.

“Guess you were hungry.”

“I forgot to eat breakfast before I came here,” Lacy said.

“I see. And how often does that happen?”

“What?” Lacy asked.

“Forgetting breakfast.”

“...”

“Lacy.”

“Most days,” Lacy said, looking down at the ground, shifting her feet.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up over it- just try to remember going forward. It’s important. Now then: back to work.”

Lacy then went back to work, and by the time she was done, dusk was a looming threat. Her arms and legs and back ached with heavy stiffness.

“Good job,” Gwen said, dog-earring her book once more. She’d finished another quarter of it. “Now come back inside. We’re gonna make some bread.”

They spent the evening baking bread in Gwen’s rustic kitchen. It was a messy process, and flour covered most of the surfaces by the time of full-dark. Lacy helped Gwen scrub the room while the bread baked, and finally they pulled two hot loaves out of the oven. Gwen wrapped one in aluminum foil and handed it to Lacy, and then sent her on her way.

Lacy walked home beneath the starlight, weary of it touching her, like the eyes of God looking down and seeing her hideous, shameful body. She tried to push it aside, tried to remove herself from her thoughts as she walked. She needed to focus, take stock of her surroundings: if another ghoul came for her out of nowhere, it would be her own damned fault if she was eaten because she didn’t bother to listen.

Just like her parents.

Lacy gulped, and she closed her eyes, and she concentrated on walking one step after another. She opened her eyes, and she opened her ears, and she listened to the night. She walked on the side of the road, clinging to the grass as cars whipped past her, going into the jungle of noise that was the city, or perhaps into the wilderness with its equally numerous sounds. Behind her, she heard birds and squirrels and insects and flowing water and wind taking new shapes between the folds of the canopy; ahead of her, she heard car engines and footsteps and cracking glass; all around her she heard heartbeats, and she measured her pace by the steady rhythm of them all harmonizing.

She arrived at home to find Danny’s truck in the driveway, and Danny’s suitcase on the living room floor, and Danny’s tie on the kitchen table. She did not see Danny.

Then the sound of violent vomiting came from the bathroom. She went up to the door and knocked. “Danny?”

“Hey Lacy,” Danny said. He threw up again.

“Are you okay?”

“Ate too much for dinner.”

He threw up once more. Lacy winced. After another few minutes, he left the bathroom. His eyes were red. His suit was a disheveled mess, and some of the hairs on the back of his hands looked like they’d been scratched off. He reeked of booze; Lacy tried not to wince again as the smell hit her. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Lacy said. She held up the foiled loaf. “I made bread.”

“You made bread? Where? How? Why?” “When?” Lacy smiled. “Who?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed.

“Sorry.”

Danny forced a laugh. “I’ll try some tomorrow. How you doing?”

“I’m doing good.”

He smiled, then turned back into the bathroom to wash his hands. “Good to hear.”

“Sorry I haven’t been making my calls lately.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re leaving your room for a change. And we’re plenty ahead on sales for this month, we should be fine.”

“That’s good.”

Danny brushed his teeth, and then the two of them spent the evening watching the first Lord of the Rings movie, at Lacy’s request.

The next day, Lacy woke up at 8 AM and ate the bread for breakfast. It was delicious: rich and nourishing, the labor itself present in the flavor. She returned to Gwen’s house well-fed, and found that her corn had grown tall. She harvested it, then planted soybeans; the day after that was potatoes, then wheat again, and the cycle resumed. Each time, it was easier, and each time her harvest grew taller and prouder and quicker. After two weeks, Lacy harvested wheat two hours after planting it, and she wasn’t nearly so sore anymore.

Gwen looked at the harvest and put her hands on her hips. She stood on the back porch barefoot, wearing cutoff jean shorts and a baggy black BYU t-shirt. She put her hands on her hips and took in the sight of the three buckets of wheat crop Lacy had harvested. “Damn, Lacy,” Gwen said. “I’m impressed.”

Lacy smiled. “So what are we doing with all this? Baking bread?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why don’t you come inside.”

Lacy nodded and followed Gwen inside the cabin. Gwen had set up a pasta-making rig, and for the rest of the day they made the wheat into flour, and then the flour into dough, and the dough into pasta. By the time they’d finished it, fresh Stardust had begun to fall. They sat together at the kitchen table, Lacy slouching in her chair and letting her arms hang limp. Her legs were spread wide, and when she noticed it she experienced a pang of shame and forced them shut. It was terribly uncomfortable, and Gwen side-eyed her. Lacy relaxed, and Gwen got up and gestured at her to stay put for a moment.

Gwen returned from her bedroom a moment later carrying a lump of fabric in her hands. It was a light blue sundress with red flowers and a long, flowing skirt. “You want?”

“I…,” Lacy stammered. A sudden panic overtook her, deep in her chest, accompanied by memories of her mother’s whining, reprimanding tone echoing inside her head the one time she’d caught her. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Gwen asked.

“I’m filthy,” Lacy said.

“You can take a shower.”

“I’d have to go home.”

“You can if you want. You can take the dress with you,” Gwen pointed out.

“I… I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t look good in it,” Lacy said.

“How do you know? You haven’t tried it on yet.”

“Because.”

“Because?” Gwen asked, eyebrow arched.

Lacy replied, “Because… I… I…”

“What?”

“Because I’m ugly! Because I’ll look like a freak!” Lacy shouted.

Silence sat heavily in the room for a moment.

“No you won’t,” Gwen said.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Lacy closed her eyes and grimaced, and then she took the dress from Gwen’s hands and ran out of the cabin back towards her house. She covered her ears the entirety of her sprint, desperate to shut out the noise. She didn’t say hi to Danny that night, didn’t eat with him or spend time with him as she’d done for the last few weeks. She retreated into her room and stayed there until morning.

She woke up the next day drenched in sweat, with a sick pit of disgust carved deep into her stomach. Her limbs were sore and her head was heavy, and she did not want to move. She listened to the sounds in her room, and found for the first time they were not enough for her. She listened to the world outside her room, outside her house, to the wind between the tree leaves, the patter of squirrels against ground and wood, to the cars that drove from their driveways into the city proper to begin the day’s work.

Just as she had to.

She couldn’t hide in her room forever. She wished it was enough for her, like it had been before, but it wasn’t, and there wasn’t any going back. She showered, she shaved, and she put on the dress.

When she walked out into the kitchen, Danny stared at her and smiled. “Look at you.”

“Thanks,” Lacy said, gripping the hem. Warmth filled her chest, head, limbs.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Thrift store,” Lacy lied.

She’d never worn a dress before, only a few of her mother’s drab skirts. It was light and freeing and… Amazing. She felt amazing. She expected to feel naked, exposed, disgusting, but for the first time in memory she felt whole. It seemed almost absurd, that a piece of fabric cut a certain way, draped over her body a certain way, could do so much for her, and yet she decided not to question it. She let the light and the warmth fill her without caveat.

She walked through the woods to Gwen’s cabin, and knocked on the door. Gwen put a hand over her heart and smiled brightly when she saw Lacy, and then opened her arms for a hug. To her surprise, Lacy took it, embraced her as a friend.

They made more pasta that day, and they ate and talked together and were merry. Lacy felt alive. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto that feeling for as long as she possibly could. At the end of the day, Gwen handed Lacy a wheat germ and asked her to plant it in the ground behind the cabin. Lacy nodded and obliged, digging her fingers through the dirt and planting the germ.

“Put your hand over it,” Gwen said.

Lacy did so.

“Now concentrate. See if you can wake it up.”

Lacy knelt in the dirt beneath the light of a half-moon, and she closed her eyes and breathed. Around her, light she could not see danced about wildly. Stardust, Starlight- she concentrated on it, reached for it, let it in. Her left arm tingled as the energy ran up her veins and into her heart, and the spark inside ignited. Power surged through her, and she released it through her right arm. She pictured a full harvest of wheat as she did it, and her lips moved even as she wasn’t sure of the words she spoke.

When she opened her eyes, a full stock of wheat had sprouted from the ground.

Lacy eyes went wide with joy, and behind her Gwen applauded. Lacy ran up and hugged her teacher, and the hug was returned. She was so happy she cried, so happy she didn’t even notice she was crying.

If you're enjoying this story, consider buying the Ebook here:

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mystacoceti · 1 year ago

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Forty noons after the hatching, Bo and his clutchmate Lem butted heads, sharing thoughts. The two sibs were on a school platform, on a high branch with a couple dozen other male larvae from other clutches of the same tree. Supposedly, the class was considering Guru Brightoak’s latest thought-dump on roomhollow architectures. But Brightoak was famously lax, and also quite short for a guru, with only forty segments; that’s why it had the males. Mostly, the boys romped and ate and daydreamed erotica. Architecture, farming, nesting, trade, crafts, civics—it wouldn’t do for them to be wholly ignorant but deep knowledge was unnecessary. The male path led elsewhere.

Cognitive fluids mixed in Bo’s head: mostly his own, some of Brightoak’s architectural thoughts, traces of fluids from others’ past injections still being digested, and now a huge erotic dollop from Lem. In general, Bo’s immune system suspiciously sequestered alien thoughts, trying them out as hypotheticals before allowing them to influence general cognition and action, incorporating what made sense, flushing the rest. But guru thoughts contained biomarkers to bypass immunity, and sibs’ thoughts shared half their biomarkers in common. Over the past month, Bo’s stronger, more opinionated brother Lem had injected so much fluid into Bo that by now maybe a twelfth of his cognitive fluids had originally been Lem’s. They agreed on many things.

Bo fell into the erotic fantasy Lem had injected into him: a near-perfect female. Bright red and orange wings with streaks and spots of white and brown. Four round blue, white, and black mimicry eyespots, almost symmetrical near the tips of the fore- and hindwings. Delicate posterior fringe at the base of each wing. Stunningly long, thin, straight antennae with identical smooth oval knobs at the tips. Lean black body with thick black hair laid back, a gorgeously tiny waist between thorax and abdomen. Round eyes in a perfect faceted pair. Strong mandibles, smoothly curved on the outside edge, converging in sharp tips. And as she danced—what motion! Looping, diving, twisting, switching suddenly back, and soaring up; she would be a difficult catch. Though Bo did not yet possess any sexual equipment, he felt a turmoil at the tip of his abdomen. Though Bo did not yet possess wings, he felt anticipatory urges at the crest of his thorax, already imagining chase, already plotting out in his mind how he might intercept such a mate, if he could be so lucky.

Bo bowed and twitched beneath his clutchmate, in awe at the power and specificity of Lem’s imagery. Lem withdrew his proboscis from Bo’s frontal port and rose, strong and big and proud. When the time came, Lem would fly far to some distant tree and catch that colony’s best female. Everyone knew it. Lem wore his health like a counselor’s crown. Sometimes he received secret cognitive infusions from the elders, to prepare him better, or to give him secret advice, or to nudge him toward their preferred politics.

Guru Brightoak loomed above Bo and Lem, speaking into the air: “Enough play! You are amazingly ignorant of architecture, even for boys. If you cogitate with sufficient focus, you will learn that recreation platforms and eyespots are not so very unlike each other. As the roomhollow is tree trunk made abdomen, so too the platform is tree branch made wing. The imago body establishes the universal norms of aesthetic design.”

The other male larvae had turned to watch Lem’s and Bo’s scolding.

“When the day comes, if you surrender entirely to fantasy,” added the guru, “you will find yourself mating with a trader’s table.”

Despite the harsh words, Guru Brightoak’s proboscises were waving play signs.

Well, thought Bo, half with his own biomarked fluids and half with the guru’s, I suppose it’s true I ought to know something about architecture. The guru’s most recent thought infusion, still undigested, flowed back into Bo’s central cognitive workspace. Roomhollow is tree trunk made abdomen.

from "Larva Pupa Imago", Eric Schwitzgebel

#pearl diver #what a delightful story about bug sex

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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Flyboy

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count: 12k Warnings: Alcohol, gold medal flirting, cocky young Frankie should have a warning all his own, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, masturbation, tits, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, somnophilia (roleplay? technically? I dunno). Summary: Out to celebrate with your coworkers, you have a random encounter with a handsome Army pilot and decide to take a chance. Notes: ✨💖🎈Last week I passed the unbelievable milestone of 1.5k followers and I just absolutely cannot thank all of you lovely folx enough!! Well over a THOUSAND of you have joined me since I became a part of the Pedro fandom a little over a year ago and I am just continually floored by the amazing response you’ve all had to not only my work alone but my collaborations with Keri. Being able to come to this little corner of the internet and share my words with all of you has been a gift of magnitude that I cannot begin to explain properly. You have my gratitude, dear readers and followers, and I hope to continue to be silly in this corner of the internet with you for a long time to come.🎈💖✨

✈ I know the gif is from Hermanas, but I chose it because this is baby Frankie! ✈

The party had started with noon beers at your coworker's college graduation party. When it turned into afternoon sangria and then evening margaritas, the group of merrily celebrating coworkers had begun to dwindle a few at a time. Somebody's spouse came to whisk them off to dinner from the bar. A significant other joined the group for one drink and they both left together by the next. One of the older members of the group threw in the towel when she ran out of cigarettes, calling it her signal from the universe that her night was over. Another got called away by a different group of friends. Now it's just three of you left, bellied up to a high-top table in a dive bar with busy pool tables and a karaoke contest going on. The basket of popcorn on the table between you keeps you thirsty enough to brave the commotion to grab another rum and Coke, even as your two friends are giggling over the group of flyboys that are conquering the pool tables. "Who wants another?" You ask above the music, pointing to your friends' dwindling glasses.

Nights out on the town were sacred. The reward for surviving the instructors all week and not killing anyone as they learned control of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois, otherwise known as the Huey. “Yo Fish!” Frankie huffs, looking up from the table where he is positioned for his shot, knowing that the cocky motherfucker was just trying to distract him from his shot. He lands the next ball in the corner pocket and Smith owes him a hundred bucks. “It’s your turn to by rounds man!”

“In a hundred bucks!” He yells back, shaking his head. He turns back to the table, leaning down and calculating angles before he pushes the chalked-up cue forward to strike the cue ball into the striped three ball, pushing it into the corner pocket he had called earlier.

There's good natured hollering and jeering as you head toward the bar to grab another round for your friends as the flyboys give one of their own a hard time about something, and their inevitable good mood means it's going to take longer to squeeze past the pool tables to get to the bar. "Civilian coming through, boys. Make room!" You joke, trying to get them to move just enough to give you a tiny path through.

Rivera might be one of the best in the class, second only to Frankie, but he was a clumsy son of a bitch. It’s pure dumb luck that Frankie turns right as Rivera jumps back, his exuberant cheering causing him to back into the pretty woman that is edging her way through the sea of Army pilots in training. “Fuck!” Leaping forward, he manages to push past the overgrown child to catch her before she falls flat on her unstable - and cute - butt.

"You guys are really taking that whole sweep a girl off her feet thing seriously these days, I see." The one guy in the bunch with fast enough reflexes to keep you from hitting the ground is broad and strong, towering over you as he lifts you back up to your feet as easily as you snatched a falling piece of popcorn out of the air earlier. "Thanks, flyboy."

Frankie grins, quick and sharp, liking the way you punned your rescue. “Not but the best for damsels in distress.” He tells you with a wink. “But I’ll let you buy me a drink to thank me.” He’s teasing, knowing full well he won’t let you buy him a drink, although he would buy you one if you’ll let him.

"Hmmm." Pretending to consider him, you give the dimpled, smirking pilot a long look up and down before you nod. It's been a long day of carousing with people you're sort of half-friends with, and you could use a few minutes of getting hit on to revitalize your enthusiasm for the night before you go back to them. "Alright," you agree, aiming a smirk of your own right at him. "But just you, not the round you're supposed to be buying for all your buddies."

Chuckling, Frankie turns around and shoves the hundred dollar bill he had just taken off Smith back into the man’s hand. “There you go boys.” He crows. “Rounds on me and I’ll win another round some other time.” He tells him, knowing that Smith will beckon the pretty red headed waitress over to order some more beers and shots.

"So what's your poison, flyboy?" Having lived in this town for years, the tales of the Army pilots scouring their favourite dives for local girls to entertain for a night - or sometimes a whole weekend if the story gets embellished - are plentiful and entertaining. It's not the first time you've had run ins with them, if you could call this a run in, but it's the first time you've seen this particular guy and he is extremely easy on the eyes. Sidling up to the crowded bar together, you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves beside you. Like a summer night but in human form.

Frankie smirks, enjoying the nickname, even if ‘Morales’ is clearly marked on his uniform with a neat name bar. “Francisco, but you can call me Frankie or ‘Cat’ if you want.” He tells you. “What’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it when I was catching you.”

“I must have forgotten my manners with the lack of gravity,” you joke, giving him an amused smile before you tell him your first name.

“Beautiful.” He gives you a small wink. “Just like you.” After casually dropping the compliment, he turns towards the bartender who’s just arrived. “Drinks on my tab.” He tells him before he looks back at you. “What’ll it be?”

“I thought I was buying?” The question doesn’t hang in the air for long because the bartender is swamped, and you shake your head at the pilot beside you. “Rum and Coke.” You tell the bartender after another second, and you fish a few bills out of your pocket. “And two more margaritas for the two girls at the corner table by the windows.” You’ll happily kill a little time with this flyboy, and the bar has plenty of capable waitresses who can deliver the round you promised to buy.

Frankie shakes his head and pushes your money back towards you. “I’ll get it.” He tells you before ordering his own, a beer since he was under strict order to not embarrass the Army by getting shitfaced.

“You don’t have to pay for my friends.” Offering him the bill instead, you roll your eyes when he gives you an ’are you serious?’ look and tuck the money back into your pocket. “Thanks, then. From what’s left of my squad. I know they’ll appreciate it.”

“Girls’ night out?” He asks, craning his neck to look over at the table where the other two girls are watching you with devious little grins on their faces. Frankie tilts his head up in acknowledgement but then his eyes fall back to you. “Not putting a damper on things, am I?”

“Not at all.” You give your friends a wave and lean on the bar a little more. “We had a coworker’s graduation party this afternoon and we’ve been bar hopping ever since. Started out with ten of us and we’re the last three.”

“Three musketeers of trouble, huh?” He grins, matching your stance and swipes at his bottom lip with his tongue. Habit more than trying to draw your attention to his lips, but he doesn’t miss your eyes following the movement. “So which one are you?”

“Porthos, obviously.” Alright, he might be the only man in uniform to ever flirt with you using literary references, so you’re going to go ahead and give him bonus points for that even if he’s only ever seen the movies. He’s far too hot to not get bonus points for something. “Always up for a good joke, a drink, a flirt, all that good stuff. Nothing’s ever serious until it’s deadly serious and by that time I’ve already thought of three puns to use while kicking somebody’s ass.” That might be giving yourself a tad too much credit, but what is flirting if not selling yourself? Good sales need embellishment sometimes, that’s all.

“Really?” He lifts a brow and chuckles, enjoying the easy banter between the two of you. While going out was always in the hopes of meeting a gorgeous lady to perhaps take home - or in his case, get her to take him home - it wasn’t a requisite for a good night. However, his prospects for not sleeping alone just got better. “Aramis is more my personality but instead of religion, it’s flying.” He jokes. “Or maybe flying is my religion.”

“Seductions, poetry, and unwavering loyalty.” Clicking your tongue, the shoulder shrug you give him is more animated than just a dismissive little gesture. “That’s a hell of a way to promote yourself.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag…” The playful banter is cut off by the bartender bringing the drinks over and he sets all four in front of you. “I’ll deliver the drinks to the table.” He offers, giving you the choice of ending the conversation or continuing.

“Sure.” You can agree to that, despite knowing that your coworkers will try to chat him up and either tell him a ridiculous story about you or - much more embarrassing - tell him how long it’s been since you dated anybody and tease him about taking you home. Not that that would be a particularly bad thing. Not this guy. At least he has a brain behind that smirk.

Frankie nods, picking up the two margaritas and turning around to deliver them to the table. Buoyed by the fact that you aren’t following behind him, and still leaning against the bar as he holds the drinks up carefully to keep from being jostled as he winds through the crowd. “Ladies.” He coos as he sets them down. “Margaritas, compliments of your lovely co-worker.”

“I told you she was gonna get hit on next.” Your younger coworker complains, clearly hoping she would have gotten that honour. “You’re sure these aren’t from you and your buddies over there?”

“Annie—” The other woman swats at the friend’s arm playfully and offers the man in front of them a smile. “Ignore her. Thank you for the delivery, handsome. Be good to our girl, okay?”

Frankie chuckles and looks over at the swarm of servicemen still crowding around the pool table. “I’ll tell you what?” He points over at Smith. “You go up to that tall, goofy looking motherfucker right there and tell him ‘Cat said to buy us a round’, I’ll bet you that he’ll hit on you.” He looks at Annie. “And the one with the glasses? He’ll hit on you.” He predicts, knowing they are very much the other men’s type. “But at least you’ll get a free round.”

“See how gallant he is?” The older of the two women laughs and picks up her drink from where he set it in front of her and even Annie has to smile in agreement. “She,” your coworker leans in closer to the pilot conspiratorially and points at you across the crowded bar. “Loves reading and live music, and is inhuman without her morning coffee so make sure you remember that tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Frankie winks at them and turns back to see you watching the interaction with an amused smile on your face. His grin gets a little wider and he keeps his eyes on you as he makes his way back to the bar. “Mission success.”

“Did they give you any tips or tell you an embarrassing anecdote?” You fully expect that of the two who are left, especially if Annie was feeling grumpy about not being flirted with.

“Just that I am to provide you with coffee in the morning if I expect human interaction.” He teases with a grin. “Which…same.”

“That…” A laugh escapes you and you shrug before taking a sip of your drink. “Is totally fair, actually. I can’t even get righteous about it.”

“Although maybe I need to be a little righteous.” Frankie picks up his beer and takes a sip of it. “They made it seem like I’m easy.” He huffs, pretending to be offended. “Like it’s guaranteed I’m going home with you tonight.”

“They’re hoping for a little water cooler gossip.” The way your wave it off is meant to be silly and a little dismissive, like of course your work friends just want the dirty details.

He snickers, leaning in again and glancing down at your lips. “Yeah?” He asks. “Does my little musketeer kiss and tell?” He tsks playfully. “Naughty.”

You nearly snort at the nickname, but have to admit that it’s weirdly cute. “Sometimes,” you admit, not missing the way his gaze drops to your lips before raking back up to your eyes. “If the kiss is worth talking about.”

“Hmmmm.” He pretends to take a notebook out of his pocket, miming writing in his palm. “Make kiss worth it.” He murmurs to himself. “Got it.” Looking up he flashes you a smirk. “Where?” He asks, knowing the question will confuse you.

“Where?” Tilting your head slightly, you pick up your drink to take a sip. Despite drinking on and off all day, you’ve had plenty to eat and plenty of nonalcoholic drinks, so it’s the question that’s confusing you and not booze making your brain float.

“Where do I kiss you to make it tellable?” He purrs.

“I thought you were trying to sell me on you not being easy?” The corner of your mouth quirks up in a smirk. Normally cocky isn’t really your thing, but he’s playful about it and you have to appreciate the hell out of that.

“Shit.” He hisses, rolling his eyes at himself. “Failed again.” He takes another sip of his beer and looks over at the table again, grinning when your friends are walking towards the pool table. “Your friends said you like reading. What genre?”

“The Three Musketeers is actually one of my favourites, but…” This question is always an interesting one for you to handle, but for no reason other than throwing caution to the wind, you decide to just tell him the blatant truth and see what his reaction is. “But most of what I read is romance novels, actually.”

“Nora Roberts type books or Anita Blake?” He asks, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “Or maybe a little of everything?”

“A little bit of everything.” He knows who Anita Blake is? Hiding your impressed expression behind another sip of your drink, you actually laugh a little. “Depends on my mood.”

“Completely understandable.” He can see you are curious about how he knows about romance novels, so he decides that he will let you in on a secret. “I grew up with three older sisters.” He tells you easily. “Swiped their romances novels a lot as a teenager to see what they were giggling over.”

That makes sense, and you nod in understanding. “And did you learn anything interesting from your sisters’ books?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs slightly, tucking his tongue in his cheek. “Hopefully so. I think so.” He sends you another wink. “Enough to get myself in trouble.”

“Good trouble, I hope.” If he’s read smutty novels then he might at least know how to find your clit, and that is another big bonus points.

“Cops have been called; noise complaints filed.” He admits with a grin. “That kind of trouble.”

“Not that a flyboy ever brags, right Aramis?” Noise complaints makes you smirk, knowing that your roommates have been ‘entertaining’ their own dates quite a bit lately and making a fucking racket in your apartment. A little payback might be fun.

“I didn’t know a sleep study was right next door.” He defends himself. “Besides, we weren’t even that loud.”

“A sleep study?” You burst out with a deep belly laugh, not expected that twist to the story at all. “Well shit, I hope they had good dreams after.”

“I tried my best.” He promises with, grinning at your laugh and tossing back the rest of his beer. Your own rum and Coke is looking low but he doesn’t know if you want another. “Want another? Or something else?” He asks, nodding towards your drink.

“Depends.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you deliberately lower your eyes to the gorgeous Cupid’s bow of his bottom lip before raising them again to meet his gaze. It’s not something you do - not often anyway. And it’s definitely early in the conversation to be bringing it up, but he’s…too good to pass up. “It’s cheaper to drink my own booze, if you want to give me something to talk about.”

He takes a minute to process it, checking your eyes to make sure you aren’t more intoxicated than you seem. When he sees that you are relatively sober, he nods. “If you’re sure?” He asks. “I’d love to talk with you.”

“You wanna tell your boys you’re leaving?” Most men probably wouldn’t bothering checking in with their guys, but you want to give him the option because you’ll definitely be sending his name in a text to your coworkers in case he didn’t introduce himself to them. A girl can never be too careful.

“Yeah.” He nods and looks over at the group that are now standing around the tables more than playing. “You can tell your girlfriends you’re leaving.” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure they know your name in case I end up missing, chained to your bed.” He quips. “I’d still be AWOL.”

“If you end up chained to my bed, it won’t be until after I know your safe word and any hard limits.” You tell him with the cool air of someone who actually has restraints on their bed. A four-poster bed and some scarves are the closest you come, but it’s fun to tease.

Frankie laughs, tossing his head back and letting it bark towards the ceiling. “God, we’re gonna have fun.” He predicts gleefully. His hand comes around you, resting on your back. “Come on Madame Dom. Let’s go make sure you’re safe and the assholes don’t look for me later on.”

“Pay your tab, flyboy.” He’s eager, and that makes you grin a little wider. “Or else it will be the bar looking for you and not your friends.” From your pocket, you pull out your phone and wave it slightly. “I’m gonna see if my roommates are home.”

“Shit, that’s right.” Frankie turns around and catches the bartender’s attention with his credit card. He can’t believe he almost forgot about his tab. The commander of the flight school would murder him if he had left a bill at a bar in town.

“All set?” His signature is down on the receipt as soon as the bartender puts it in front of him, and it looks like both of your roommates are out with dates tonight, so your end of things is all good. Thank god for that laundry spree you’d done a few days ago - clean sheets on the bed is something nice to look forward to even when you sleep alone.

“Yeah.” Frankie hands the guy a tip in cash and nods to him. “You want to say goodbye to your friends before we leave?”

“Probably should.” If you slip out without saying something, Annie will go from pouting to worried-little-sister mode in a heartbeat and start blowing up your phone nonstop. Which honestly is not such a bad trait to have in a friend that you occasionally bar hop with.

“I get it.” Frankie tells you. “You can’t be too careful.” His sisters had frequently called him when they went home with someone, baby brother would pick them up, but he was also protective of his sisters.

“Would you mind teaching the other men of the world that? Because they seem to think that our safety is emasculating then somehow.” You roll your eyes but smile, letting it turn into a grin when his friends make a roar of noise at your approach. It seems like this isn’t an all-too-unusual occurrence for your flyboy, but that doesn’t bother you. It’s not like you’re looking for a lifelong commitment here, just a little fun. “I’ll see you guys Monday,” You tell your friends, giving them both hugs. “Get home safe.” With a wink, you add. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Annie smirks, looking over at Frankie with a raised brow. “So, nothing?” She teases, only slightly jealous now that she’s flirting with the tall one like Frankie had predicted.

“Be nice or you won’t get details,” you laugh, giving them both a quick hug before stepping back to rejoin your new friend for the evening.

Frankie had already told the guys he would be back to base sometime, leaving it at that. “So, did you take a cab or drive?” He asks, knowing that he didn’t drive here tonight.

“Our driver got swooped up by her girlfriend an hour ago.” Phone already in hand, you can practically call for an Uber blindfolded with one finger in this town. Having so many bars and so many military men and women meant that on Saturday nights it was always easy to call for a ride. “The ride is only about ten minutes aaaand…it looks like our ride will be here in three.”

“Let’s get some air.” Frankie suggests, cover in hand as he guides you towards the door of the bar. He holds it open for you and as soon as he steps outside, he is placing it on his head, covering the military haircut and checking to make sure the cover is exactly aligned as it should be.

The night has turned cool, providing a little contrast to the scorching hot day and to the over-warmth of the crowded bar from so much body heat. It’s just enough to make you shiver once in your sundress and sigh happily. “Perfect night. Just cool enough to want someone nearby.”

“It is a nice night.” The two of you slowly stroll along the walkway in front of the bar, the noise muted behind its walls, only to blast out when the door swings open. “Although I did just realize something.”

“Oh yeah?” If you thought he was secretly a creep or married or something you never would have invited him to your place, so you doubt there’s about to be some big dramatic reveal, but he has a good sense of humor to go with that handsome face and has been good with pick up lines and such so far, so you just tilt your head at him and lean against the wall of the behind you. “What’s that?”

“Well, I think before you take me home…” He steps closer to you and his hand slowly reaches for your waist. “I think you should let me kiss you. To make sure you think it’s worth it.” He murmurs with a small smile on his lips as he looks into your eyes.

“Well, I think I’m worth going home with,” you tease, but you can feel your breathing shallow out a little at he presses into your space. Lord he really is exceptionally attractive, Aquiline nose and single dimple giving him a unique look that you can’t resist. “But why don’t you make sure you agree with me?”

He chuckles quietly, reaching up to hold your jaw between his thumb and index fingers, changing the angle slightly as he starts to lean in. “That mouth is gonna be trouble.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, soft to start before leaning into it more.

Baby, you have no idea. The reply is right on the tip of your tongue, but he steals it away. It’s gone as soon as he spreads his fingers to cradle the line of your jaw in his large palm, replacing all of your senses with just him as you hum into the kiss.

Like anything good, Frankie firmly believes in getting a feel for it. Just like he’s doing as he kisses you. Slowly caressing your lips with his tongue and coaxing it open, allowing him inside. Heat will follow, rushed neediness would be there. For now, he wants to taste you, sampling the rum and Coke from your mouth and groaning when you give him a small whimper.

When you can think again, you’ll be congratulating yourself on what an excellent decision it was to take a chance on this flyboy, because if he’s half as dedicated to fucking you later as he is to kissing you right now, he might actually knock that one night stand from spring break two years ago right out of the top spot in your sexual history book. He tastes like beer and summertime and feels like even more of a wall than the one your back is pressed up against. One arm easily winds its way around his neck, your other hand finding his hip to draw him in closer. Body to body. That’s what you’re craving right now.

Frankie shuffles closer, enjoying the scent of your perfume and the softness of your lips, your body, as he presses you into the wall. Another swipe of his tongue, curling around yours expertly and humming deep in his throat when you moan again. It’s only because he senses a car pull up behind him does he pull away, staring at you as he straightens up. “I think that’s us.” He murmurs, throat slightly raspy with hunger.

“Huh?” There are no thoughts whatsoever in your head for a minute, until you blink heavily and his lips curl into a smirk and you realize you can see him better because a car’s high beams are pointed at you. “Oh. Right.” Nice job, dumb ass. “So am I worth going home with, then?” The tease is right back in place when you shake off the haze and reach for the Uber’s door.

“I knew that the moment you landed in my arms instead of on your ass.” He jokes. “Question is, am I worth taking home?”

“Get in the car, flyboy.” You tell him unequivocally, pulling the door open for both of you. “Or we’re walking.”

He chuckles, very pleased with your sass and throws the driver a grin. “Yes ma’am.” He might have copped a small feel of your ass as you climb into the car, but he was only trying to help you with your sundress.

Not the kind of person to be overly prim, you have no problem staying close to him in the back of the car as it pulls back out onto the main road toward home. The taste of his lingers deliciously, making you want to press your lips together to hold on to the sensation of having his on them. “It’s a quick drive,” you murmur out loud, though you have no idea if you’re telling him or reassuring yourself.

“That’s good.” Frankie shifts towards you, sliding his arm around your shoulders and his other hand settles on your knee. “It’s a good time to tells you how pretty you look.” He murmurs in your ear. Fingers tapping lightly on your skin.

Making out the back of a stranger’s car is bad manners, you remind yourself on repeat when his mouth hangs so near to you that you can almost taste him again. “Pretty enough to eat?” You joke. Well, half-joke.

Frankie knows he’s got you interested. He chuckles against your ear, shifting slightly and drags the hooked end of his nose up your cheek. “It’s a good thing I’m fucking hungry.” He rasps.

“Goddamn.” You could practically melt into this seat, and one of your hands grasps his thigh, nails biting in the material of his pants. “Good.”

His hand slides up, just a few inches. “Yeah?” He hums, making sure that his breath fans over your damp skin. “I can eat your pussy tonight?”

Carefully, your hand creeps higher in his leg to match his advance on you. “Gotta show me what you learned from all those books you snatched.”

His lips brush over the back of your jaw. “Also learned that women like to be seduced right?” His index finger starts drawing a little circle into your skin, working higher on your thigh. “It’s a big part of foreplay. Show them that you want them?”

“Mmhmm.” It’s nearly a whimper, and you nod against him. “Never gonna say no to that.”

“Good.” He slides his fingers up between your thighs, just a bare inch from your covered cunt. “Want to make sure your pussy is dripping when I finally slide inside.”

“Trust me.” When you shift to keep from squirming, your hand on his thigh grips just below the heft of his hardening cock and the side of your hand brushing against it makes you feel like you’re about to see stars despite the fact that he’s barely touched you yet. “That’s not going to be an issue.”

He chuckles again, turning his head when the car starts to slow down. “Are we almost home, beautiful?”

“The next building down.” It’s mostly for the driver, who started pulling up to the wrong apartment complex, but also for the man beside you. The apartment would be spacious for a couple or small family, so for you and your two roommates it’s just right. But you’re prepared to thank every lucky star in the universe that neither of them is home tonight.

Frankie reluctantly pulls away, knowing the two of you will need to get out of the car in order to make it into this apartment of yours. The driver finds the right building and pulls to a stop. He opens the door and steps out, waiting for you to see if you need help. "Thanks for the ride, man."

The car is gone into the night almost as soon as you let yourselves into the front door of the building, and the stairs are blessedly abandoned when you get inside. “It’s just the second floor,” you tell him, motioning to the stairs. “The elevator hasn’t worked in years.”

“That’s no problem.” He shoots you a grin. “There aren’t any elevators in the barracks. Even the officer’s barracks.”

"You boys just get wings on your boots, huh?" You throw him a grin as you head up the stairs in the cramped lobby. "Every bit of sky is yours for the taking."

He chuckles and has to refrain from taking the stairs two at a time. “I mean, yeah.” He huffs. “Nothing like it. Best fucking feeling ever being up there.”

"I think maybe I need to get my ass up in a plane, because I'm pretty sure sex still tops every flight I've ever taken." You meet him on the top step and easily slip your hand into his outstretched one. "Third door on the left, flyboy."

Frankie walks dutifully to the door with your hand in his and stands to the side. Understanding why you let go of his hand, but still pouting slightly as you dig your keys out of your purse. The place is dark when you push inside, and you drop your keys and purse on the side table next to the door as soon as you're through so you can reach for him again. "Home sweet home."

Frankie hums and looks around before he grins at you, wrapping his arms around your body. “Show me your room.”

"This way." There isn't a chance in hell that you're going to move out of his arms. Instead, you go in the complete opposite direction, slipping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your lips to every bit of skin along his neck that you can manage as you tug him toward your bedroom.

Groaning, he remembers to yank his cover off his head and crush it in his hand while he moves with you. Eager to get into that bedroom of yours. It’s been a few weeks since he’s gone home with a girl and he wants to strip you down and make both of you feel incredible.

"Is it some kind of weird treason if all this ends up on my floor?" As soon as the door is shut behind you, you're fumbling blindly for the buttons on his uniform, far too interested into diving into a hungry kiss to actually try to be graceful.

Laughing, he shakes his head and tosses the cover on the floor. “Not at all.” He tells you. “It’s considered patriotic to throw it on the floor.”

"I'm suddenly feeling the most patriotic I've ever been in my life." It feels like his entire uniform is made of buttons though, and your uncoordinated fingers stumble over the obstacles enough times that you pout against his lips. The last thing you want to do is stop kissing him, but you also want to know what he's hiding under all that fabric.

His hands come over yours, stopping you. "Why don't you let me do it?" He asks, smirking at your frustrated grunts and the pout you give him. "That way you can enjoy."

“Fine…” It’s with a deeply dramatic sigh and an immediately playful grin that you relinquish control, letting him take over the pace and exactly what pieces of his uniform will come off when. You kick your sandals off and don’t hesitate to pull your dress over your head, smirking when he is now the one pouting as you back up to climb into your bed.

"Damnit." He hisses, ripping off his blouse and immediately pulling his undershirt off to show off the lean planes of his body. Frankie isn't ripped, God no, but as a twenty-give year old Army officer, he is in pretty fucking decent shape. The shadows of abs was enough for him, he wasn't going to starve or dehydrate himself to fucking achieve that look. Besides, from the hungry look on your face, you don't mind at all.

He's fucking beautiful. Like mouthwateringly perfect, as far as your taste in men. He's broad and strong and his massive hands could probably wrap around your throat or your thighs with equal ease. If you weren't already laying back in a pile of your own pillows with your fingers mere inches from your soaking wet panties, you would already be on your knees in front of him. But the view from where you are is your own personal striptease and you are doing your goddamn best to memorize every detail for masturbation fuel in the future.

"Touch yourself." Frankie orders, voice rough as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He smirks at your surprised expression, and he nods towards your cunt. "You want to touch yourself, do it." He orders again. "Right here. Shove your hands into your panties and touch your swollen little clit for me."

"Fuck." That wasn't at all the response you expected to get from him and your hand dives into your panties faster than you can think and the way you moan at that first touch of your own fingers to your clit makes his eyes go impossibly darker with want.

"Goddamn baby." He hisses, quickly unhooking and unzipping the starched dress pants and dropping them down, kicking them and his shoes off at the same time and leaving him in the black socks and stark white boxers that do nothing to hide the erection that is currently tenting the material. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He coos, eyes fixated on your cloth covered core.

"Gonna be better when it's you." It doesn't take much to shift on the bed, dragging your panties aside with the hand that isn't knuckle deep in your own wet pussy. "Take it all off and get the fuck over here, flyboy. Wanna touch you."

He chuckles and smirks down at you, hooking his thumbs under his boxers. "Yes ma'am." He teases, pushing them down and stripping them off before he stands tall again and lets you get a good look at him fully nude.

"Goddamn, baby." Giving his own words right back to him, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and groan as your eyes rake up and down the length of his body. You're squirming in place, hips rocking on your own fingers, while you take in the sight of his thick cock already beaded with precum just begging to split you open.

Winking cockily, Frankie knows that you are eager. Kneeling on the bed and wrapping his fingers around your ankle to tug it slightly closer. Pulling you towards him as he crawls up to join you. “Like something you see, pretty girl?”

"Have a feeling I'm gonna fuckin love something I see." Fuckin love or love fucking - both are entirely true. He brings you closer, making it easier for you to lean in and nip at his bottom lip. "Gonna let me ride that cock after you eat my pussy?"

His lips chase yours for another kiss while his cock bounces against your inner thigh. "After your legs are up on my shoulders and I make you cum all over my cock." He promises, nipping back at your lip playfully, loving the fact that you like to use your teeth.

"So many big plans." Pouring a groan into his mouth, you let the kiss turn hungry for a long moment. It's a gorgeous distraction for just as long as it takes to drag your fingers out of your own slick and wrap them around his length.

Grunting into your mouth, he twitches under your touch, enjoying the firm grip you have around him. His own hands reaching for your panties, tearing them in his eagerness to get to your cunt. The ripping of the fabric making him grunt again.

The feeling of that fabric ripping against your skin - the sound of it, too - makes you absolutely whimper into his needy kiss. “Fucking hell, baby. Touch me. Please.” You beg, blindly searching for his hands to push at least one of them towards where you need him most.

The next chuckle is dirty, bordering slightly mocking as he starts to kiss down your jaw and nips your pulse sharp enough to make you gasp. His fingers don't give in, instead he spreads them, cupping your bare cunt and covering it with his palm. "Is someone needy?" He coos, teasing you with a little lick at the hollow of your throat before biting your collar bone and moving down another few inches.

“I’ll wrap my fingers around your cock again and we’ll both be needy,” you shoot back, laughing despite how badly your body is singing with desire.

"Baby, I'm gonna be needy until I'm balls deep inside this tight, hot little pussy." He murmurs, smirking up at you before kitten lick the tip of one breast before he wraps his lips around it.

The way you keen is messy and needy in all the best ways, and your head falls back on the pillow behind you. The only nuisance is that he doesn’t have any hair to speak of for you to run your fingers through or grab onto, leaving you to rake your fingernails against the base of his skull encouragingly as you moan for him. He loves the way your nipple responds. Tightening under his tongue as he drags it over it. Scraping his teeth across the firm peak and sucking it back in his mouth to tease it some more. Groaning around it before he pulls off with a wet pop and switches over to the other.

If somebody were at home besides the two of you, they would already be pounding on the door in annoyance at how vocal the two of you are together. Every sound that comes out of him is heavenly sin - egging you on and encouraging you to meet his enthusiasm. Not that you need the help, already panting and moaning under him as though you'd been starved of intimacy for years.

Frankie nudges at your breast, pushing at it as he sucks, enjoying the way you whimper and scratch at his head. Trying to pull him closer and push him down to where you need him all at the same time. He loves a woman who’s responsive, who’s nearly feral for his touch.

He keeps at your tits until you’re nearly growling, and the low chuckle he gives before starting to trail his mouth southward again has you on the edge of sanity. He practically has you about to cum just sucking on your tits, you might melt into the bed once he finally sets that tongue to work on your cunt.

His tongue dips into your navel, showing you exactly what his plan for your aching little hole is. He flicks his tongue deep and laves around his generously, lips twisted upward when your legs lift and your heels dig into his shoulder blades.

“Go ahead and gloat, flyboy.” You’ve always been the kind of person to have a sense of humor about sex, and especially when it’s something like this. He has every right to feel good about how worked up he’s gotten you, and he’s clearly enjoying the affect he has on you. That’s all a part of pleasure, in your opinion.

He chuckles and bites at the swell of belly over your mound, scraping his still smooth cheeks against it before he slides down again. "Not gloating." He hums, winking at you. "Just enjoying myself." He turns his head and kisses one thigh and then turns his head the opposite direction to kiss the other. "I like a woman who's playful and needy in bed." He confesses before he flattens his tongue and makes the first pass over your clit.

“Fuck!” He takes you by surprise, and your head nearly hits the headboard when it drops back, making you giggle. When that giggle turns into another moan, your fingernails find his scalp again with ease. “H—hopefully loud, too. Shit, baby.”

He just is moaning into your cunt in answer, burrowing his tongue deeper as his vocalizations resonate into your skin. He loves how loud you are, wants you to be louder for him. To give him everything you've got and fall apart. His hands spread your thighs wider, letting him reach more of you with unabashed enthusiasm.

Every word out of your mouth is the highest praise, every sound is pure sin that spurs him on in his quest to bring you the most pleasure he possibly can. His tongue is just as good - maybe even better - on your weeping cunt as it was weaving sinful promises in your ear earlier and the Army needs to invent a medal for pussy eating right away.

You taste incredible. Tangy and musky, making. him lick and suck on your folds, nibble on the lip of your cunt and groan when he plunges his tongue into your velvety softness and lets it slide through the fresh slick leaking from you. Pushing your hips back, lifting your legs up off his back so he delves deeper and spear his tongue upside you to curl up.

That tingling sensation that rolls through your entire body, sparking nerves out to the very tips of your fingers and toes and taking any possible sense of restraint you had with it. The rambling, cursing, barely coherent warning you manage to eek out before you cum the first time is punctuated by a cry of his name - the first time you’ve actually used it all night – but he has absolutely earned the plaintive wail of “Fuck, Frankie!” When you fall apart for him.

Hearing you, feeling you start to cum just makes Frankie double down. His tongue flicking and his jaw aching but he continues to eat you like a starved man. Groaning into you while his hips shift subtly against the bed, grinding against it for friction while his mouth is flooded with your essence.

If it was destined to be a one-orgasm night, it would still be a really fucking excellent night. Fortunately for both of you it absolutely won't be - but the boneless way you fall back into your pillows again after having arched off the bed speaks to exactly how hard you just came for him. "Jesus fuckin Christ." An indulgent, filthy giggle bubbles up out of you when he doesn't let up right away. "You're gonna kill me, baby."

He chuckles, pulling away and giving your clit a few slow, lazy licks as he watches you recover. You’re gorgeous this way and he admires the way your tits rise and fall. Slapping the outside of your thigh, he raises a brow. “Want another before I fuck you?” He offers.

It's such a loaded question, because you desperately want to cum as many times as he'll let you, but you aren't the only person in this bed right now. "Still want to ride you, gorgeous. If I cum that hard again on your tongue, I might not be able to make my legs work afterward."

Frankie grunts a small gawf and nods, lifting up to his knees and sliding off the bed. “Let me get a condom out of my wallet, then.” He wanted to keep you safe as well as himself, grabbing the pants off the floor and fishing his wallet out. The shiny foil packet in hand, he gives you a triumphant grin.

"Love a man that shows up prepared." You grin at him, crooking one finger to beckon him back into your bed. Of course you have condoms stashed in your nightstand but it's nice to see someone else stepping up to the plate of responsibility.

“Boy Scout.” He quips and climbs back into the bed with you. “Now….” He puts the edge of the foil packet in his teeth and rips it open. “I think I promised you an orgasm with your legs up on my shoulders while you cum all over my cock.”

"Shoulders like those were made to be leg rests," you tell him with a grin, managing to steal a kiss after he's tossed the foil packet in the general direction of your trash can.

Frankie bites his lip, rolling the rubber down his length and pumping himself a few times before he caresses your legs. Pulling them up onto his shoulder and shuffling forward to slide the head of his cock through your folds. “Ready?”

"Shit yes." If it would do you any good to grasp at him or push closer, you would. But from this angle and with one of his big hands grasping your legs, all you can really do is squirm. "Come on, baby. Fill me up."

He teases your clit for another pass before he lined up, the head of his cock pushing against the soft entrance to your body and keeps his eyes on you while he slowly sinks in.

If you hadn’t been dripping wet from the second he kissed you, it definitely would been a pinch to take all of him, being as thick as he is. Now, though, Frankie is fully seated to the hilt in your hot cunt with almost nothing more than a lazy roll of his hips, making you whimper and moan under him happily as he shifts into the exact position he wants.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your legs gently, almost tenderly as he waits for your body to relax. Letting him lean down and fold your legs over as he stretches his jaw and manages to plant a tiny kiss on your lips. His dog tags hang around his neck, dangling between you. “Want to hear you.” He reminds you softly, before he abruptly pulls his hips back and slams back into your cunt.

Volume isn’t exactly a problem, but the way he pushes the breath out of your lungs on that second powerful thrust means it’s a strangled moan that pours from your lips instead of more teasing words. One of your hands grasps for his hip when he plows into you again and the other paws at your own tits, twisting your nipple with the perfect to almost be painful alongside the pleasure.

The steady, hard thwacks of his hips against your thighs fills the room, along with the gasps and groans from the two of you. You are fucking tight like this, squeezing his cock before your walls ever clench in pleasure. “F-f-fuuuuck.” He hisses, each syllable accompanying another swing of his hips.

“God — fuck — feel so good, baby.” If he wants to hear you, you’ll damn well make sure that what he’s hearing is complimentary and true. “So fucking deep, oh my god —”

“Yeah?” He pants out, keeping up the brutal pace and making sure that each thrust bottoms out. One hand reaches your and squeezes your tit. “Want more?”

“Every — oh fuck—” A particularly punishing thrust shoves you further up you bed and you have to reach up to keep from knocking your head against the headboard of your bed. “Everything you got, flyboy.”

Frankie flashes you a grin, wicked and promising. “Roger.” If you had thought he was giving you his all, you were sorely mistaken. His dog tags swing wildly and beat against his chest while he ramps up his pace.

If you had thought about anything besides how fucking good his cock feels shredding up inside you for just half a second, you would have realized that you were issuing an accidental challenge. Now you can’t do anything but hang on for the ride, so to speak, and throw both hands over your head to avoid banging your head, and give him every ounce of vocal encouragement that he is definitely earning.

He absorbs your sounds, greedy for each one. Even stretching down to kiss you again. Steadily pounding into you before he slides his hand down to thumb at your clit.

You might shake apart with the force of the orgasm you can feel building, but you will happily give in to it. The wave that crashes through you has you practically squealing, with his name as the only word to be understood in all the praises and rambling as you fall apart underneath him.

Frankie doesn’t fuck you through it. Instead he lets your legs slide down into the crooks of his elbows so he can hover closer. Breath mingling with yours while he slowly grinds himself into your grasping and fluttering little hole. “Good girl.” He coos. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”

“So good.” With him this close you can grasp his dog tags like a collar and meet him halfway for a messy, enthusiastic kiss. “Can’t wait to hear how gorgeous you scream my name when you cum.”

His chuckle is low and raspy, making him stop moving and focus on kissing you, still buried in your cunt.

It’s tricky to do when he’s completely overwhelming your senses, but you rock your hips with his and tighten your legs at his sides to roll him into his back with a victorious grin. “Your turn to enjoy,” you promise him, nipping at his lips while you roll figure 8s on his lap with his cock deep inside you at a whole new angle.

“God.” He doesn’t know what to grab. Your hips, your tits, his hands are everywhere. Pinching your nipples and cupping the soft flesh, while watching, alternating between your tits, your face, and the tiny space where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

“That’s it, baby.” You hum, tossing your head back to let your tits stand out as you start to rise and fall on his length. “Feels so fucking big like this.”

His feet dig into the downy comfort of your bed, bracing them so that his can jerk his hips up. Driving up into you from the bottom and push deeper when you sit back down on his cock. "You like it." He huffs, pushing your tits together and flicking the peaked tips.

“Fucking love it.” There’s no way you’re about to deny that, especially not with the perfect way he’s got his hands on you right now. Every time you bounce on his cock his hands squeeze your tits a little tighter, and each tweak of your aching nipples is fantastic.

"Good." He huffs, biting his lip and trying to control his body as it reacts to the drag of your cunt in this position. Despite you cumming already, he wants you to cum again. Needs to see it before he gives in to his own need. "Look so good riding my cock." He pants out. "So fucking good."

Each time he bottoms out inside you, you swirl your hips in his lap, rocking downward to give you more momentum to bounce up again, and the combination has both of you moaning and panting unashamedly. You can’t remember the last time it felt this good to have someone inside you, and to be honest you might be a little bummed in the morning when he takes off never to be seen again. But at least tonight is fucking amazing.

"Fuck." He slaps your tit lightly and lets go, gripping your hips and rocking up into you again. Watching your heavy-lidded eyes as they flutter and your own hands drift over your skin. You look fucking amazing on top of him, he wasn't lying about that. "Come on baby, cum again." He coos. "You know you want to."

“Want me to — oh god, squeeze that thick cock, baby?” That’s all the encouragement you need for your hand to drift down to your cunt, fingertips rubbing tight circles on your clit that make you cry out into the dark night.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, gritting his teeth when you start to squeeze him. Both hands on your hips while you freeze over him, body locked up in pleasure and he thrusts up into you wildly now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He growls, staring at you while his own orgasm starts to build up. “Fuck, gonna cum.”

“Fuck yes, cum for me.” He’s going to look spectacular as he falls apart, you just know it, and the hand that isn’t rapidly stroking your swollen clit reaches down to rake your blunted fingernails down his chest.

Frankie shudders, shouting out and starts to cum. Gripping your hips in a bruising hold, he surges up into you one last time. Gasping and moaning your name while he spills into the condom.

“Fuck, Frankie!” The combination of sensations is too good, and another orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Shaking with it, your cunt clenches down in his length even harder, milking every last drop of cum from him until you feel like you’re about to black out from the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god. So good.” You whine, panting for breath as the aftershocks finally start to subside.

Frankie grunts, pulling you down against his chest while he slowly grinds up into you. Finally just throbbing inside you as he strokes your back. “Holy shit.” He pants, feeling euphoric and exhausted.

“Right?” You can’t help giggling, the ethereal feeling swimming in your body making you feel light as air as you reach to kiss him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling when you kiss his jaw and hum. “Aren’t you glad I caught you?” He teases playfully.

“Goddamn right I am.” You agree without hesitation and rest your head on his chest. “This was the perfect way to thank you for it.”

He can’t disagree with you. He lifts his head slightly, kissing the top of yours.

“You…do you…wanna stay?” Heavy sleepiness is quickly setting into your body, but you’ll fight to stay awake long enough to drive him back to wherever if that’s what he wants. You would just as soon wake up beside him in the morning and maybe go one more round before having to say goodbye to him.

“Yeah.” Frankie has zero desire to return to his room at the barracks. It didn’t matter that officer’s didn’t have to share; it was still a barracks room. He kisses your head again. “But I got get rid of this condom first.” He murmurs. “You got a trash can in here, or bathroom?”

“Next to the bed.” You vaguely point to your right - his left - where your nightstand is and sigh quietly, happy that the little bubble of perfection you found tonight won’t be bursting too soon.

He smirks when you refuse to peel yourself off of him for a few more moments. Finally huffing and lifting off his cock while he holds the base of the condom so he can roll over and take it off. He huffs, always hating this part of condoms, tying it off and taking one step to put it in the trash before he climbs back in the bed. “Now you can lay back on me.” He promises, dragging you closer again.

“You’re comfy.” And you aren’t the least bit ashamed to acknowledge that, cuddling up to his chest again like a clingy cat after he shuts off the light.

“Hmmm, good.” He doesn’t even deny that he likes the warmth of you on him. His hand strokes your back slowly as you settle and sighs softly. “‘Night, beautiful.”

“G’night, sexy.” The smile on your lips will last until morning without fail, and hopefully your dreams will just be a replay of what you did in this bed before passing out.

******

Being in the military means that no matter how much he drinks, how tired he is, come zero six hundred - he’s awake. He’s actually been awake for half an hour, watching you sleep, curled into his side. You have this cute little pout and he figures you will be mortified when you learn you drooled on him. Except now, he’s gotta pee and he’s about to die of thirst. Slowly shifting, he carefully moves you so that you don’t wake up, allowing him to slide out of the bed.

There’s movement in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cinnamon wafting through the apartment, and quiet chatting that pauses temporarily when a door creaks open and shut. “You’re up early!” A voice calls out, with clear teasing lining the comment. “Figured you’d sleep in after the porno you lived last night.”

He’s glad that he swiped his boxers up and put them on. He hadn’t expected to run into your roommates this early, but he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. Shit like this happens every once in a while. Instead of hiding or slipping into the bathroom and going back to your room, Frankie walks into the kitchen. “She’s still asleep.”

“Oh!” The petite blonde clutching her coffee cup bursts out into an embarrassed giggle and so does the redhead with her. Their jaws are practically on the ground, though, and they give each other an impressed glance. “Uh…hi! Coffee?”

“I’d kill for some.” Frankie flashes them a grateful smile, not at all embarrassed to be standing in front of them with nothing but his boxers and his dog tags on. He had routinely showered with thirty other men and shit in stalls with no doors in OCS, this was a piece of cake. “And a cup for her?” He asks, stepping further into the kitchen. “I don’t know how she drinks it.”

“Black.” The red headed girl grabs two mugs from the cupboard and hands them off to the blonde to be filled. “So…you guys sounded like you had fun…” The two girls exchange smirks that are meant to cover looks of concern.

“She’s still alive.” He promises, smirking slightly as he watches the blonde pour the coffee. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’ll call you an Uber if it was just a one-night thing for you.” The blonde tells him matter-of-factly, as she sets two full coffee mugs down on the kitchen island. “She’s just…she’s been on the receiving end of a lot of bullshit lately, so if you’re not into her it’s easier if you just go.” The protective, sister-like energy is strong with these two, and it’s obvious they’re not trying to be rude. They just care about you.

If he’s irritated by the nosiness of the roommate, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he picks up a cup of coffee, the smaller one, and takes a sip. “Would be a shitty thing to do.” He comments are that first sip. “To just slink off. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Good.” That seems to mollify her, and she nods. “In that case the bathroom’s the next door on the right and there are cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven.”

He grins and sends her a small wink, setting down the coffee. “Happy I passed the test.” He tells her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll use the bathroom and then bring her that coffee.”

The second he’s gone, your roommates look at each other with what can only be described as awe, and stifle some shared laughter. “Oh my god she wasn’t kidding…he’s…gorgeous.”

Frankie uses the bathroom, washes his hands and comes back out to go back into the kitchen. The giggling stops again, and he just picks up the coffee mugs and throws them both a knowing smirk. “I would probably play some music or something.” He warns them with a wink before he trots back down the hallway.

“We’re leaving for work!” They call back, and he can hear the sound of a metal tray clanging on its way out of the oven as your bedroom door shuts behind him.

Frankie chuckles, seeing you starfished across the bed and he sets down the coffee cups on the dresser. It wasn’t something that the two of you had talked about, so he decides that waking you up with oral isn’t a good idea. Instead, he crawls back in the bed and manages to nudge you over so he can stretch out beside you.

“Mmmm…” From the edges of your fading dream, you can feel a hand stroke your back and you sigh right before your eyes open. “Morning…”

“Morning.” Frankie hums, keeping his hands solely on your back instead of drifting to other, more interesting places. “I have coffee for you.”

“Sexy and thoughtful.” You snuggle closer to him for a second before your eyes pop open in dismay. “My roommates came home last night, didn’t they?”

“Sorry.” Frankie winces, hearing your unhappy tone. Maybe you didn’t want them to know? Even if you had called from the bar. “I can get a ride and take off.”

“God, were they that bad?” Fully awake now, you tuck a blanket around your body and look up his frown with concern. “They just tend to get a little…protective. I was going to apologize if they said something rude when I wasn’t there to tell them to knock it off.” Of course, they were only that way because of the shitty luck you had had with guys you brought home, and you so very much don’t want Frankie to end up as just one more of those guys.

“No, they were fine.” He promises. “I just figured you weren’t too happy they knew you brought someone home.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” You shake your head adamantly. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t give a fuck who knows it. The reason I asked them to give us privacy last night was so I could be as loud as I wanted without them giving me shit about keeping them up. Because they both work this morning. That’s all.”

“They said they’re leaving for work.” He hums, mollified that you don’t want him to leave. He leans in and drags his nose across your cheek. “So, we’ll be alone again.”

“Coffee can wait.” The decision comes with a deep hum, and you easily wrap your arm around his waist to drag him under the covers with you.

“Thought about waking you up with my tongue.” He confesses, kissing along your jaw. “But I didn’t know how you would react to that.”

“Next time.” He nudges you over onto your back and you nearly purr at the early morning affection. The offer is really just a hopeful one. Hopeful that this morning won’t be the least you see of him. “Next time, you definitely should.”

“Yeah?” He nibbles on your collar bone and hums happily. “I can do that.” He slides his hand down to slot between your thighs. “Could always pretend you are asleep right now.”

You grin, giggling a little as you immediately shut your eyes and slump back in your pillows dramatically. “Who’s pretending? I’m totally still asleep,” you tease.

“Good girl.” Frankie grins and ducks his head under the covers, moving his way quickly down your body and gently pries your legs apart like he’s trying not to wake you.

Two of your favorite words, but you don’t say a thing as he shifts you into the position he wants. Being woken up like this is one of those things that you never have asked for or suggested, especially because you have a track record of picking guys that don’t stick around for long.

“Fuck.” He groans quietly at the sight of your swollen and puffy lips, slick from the nights activities and fresh arousal coat your skin and he hums. “Someone’s have naughty dreams.” He teases quietly, bumping your clit with his nose before he kitten licks it softly.

You can’t help humming a little, letting the sound be something like a non-communal sleeping sound as best as you can. You had had very naughty dreams about all the things you wanted him to do to you - or you to him - and you’re already about to check one off the list. What’s not to love? He chuckles, kissing your lips and starts to softly press the flat of his tongue against your folds. Gently treating your cunt like it is the most delicate treat, completely opposite from his treatment of you last night.

A soft, indulgent sigh parts your lips and you swear you melt a little deeper into the mattress with pure relaxation. He's as gentle as a spring sunrise this morning and when you shift underneath him it's akin to the stretching of a lazy cat instead of the frantic, needy squirming of last night. His tongue flutters and softly flicks over your swollen folds, groaning slightly and urging your thighs open a little more. Still pleased with how well you are playing at being asleep as he gathers your clit in his mouth to suck softly.

Not wanting to ruin the game, you swallow a whimper and keep your eyes shut tight. As much as you want to hear him growl his approval at your fingernails on his scalp again, letting him enjoy and explore so gently is its own kind of beautiful.

This is everything that last night wasn’t and yet it doesn’t feel any less or more. It just feels like another layer of this time with you. The contrasts match so beautifully. He moans quietly, sliding his shoulder to the side so he can ease two fingers into you.

There's no way to mask this moan, or the way your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly to go along with the motion of his hands. If you weren't awake before you most certainly would be now, and the feeling of Frankie's thick fingers stretching you out so lazily is amazing.

He hums, pleased at your reaction and he pulls his lips away from your clit with a soft pop. “‘Morning.” He teases before he resumes his ministrations.

"Good--" As soon as he dives back in, the phrase is broken by a plaintive sigh. "Fuck, morning, baby." As frantic, needy, and desperate as the two of you were last night, this morning is nothing but lazy and indulgent and it is absolutely glorious.

He chuckles and curls his fingers up slowly, deliberately. “Want you to cum for me, again.” He murmurs, tracing his name into your cunt with his tongue.

"Yes – fuck – yes, sir." He's like an expert musician, plucking the strings of your pleasure to absolute perfection without really even needing to practice.

Frankie gets call ‘sir’. Due to his rank, he gets called sir at least a hundred times a day. But the way you say it has him moaning, his fingers sharpening their curl just a bit and the hand on your hip gets tighter, like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby — gonna cum!” For as gentle as he has been, it’s still like a freight train. Rolling through every inch of your body with the same power that last night’s demanding pace had, except this time it almost makes you float. It’s like Frankie’s fingers and tongue are keeping you afloat in his very own ocean of pleasure and why in the hell would you ever want to be anywhere else.

He growls in pleasure. Happy that you are nearly bowing up off the bed in pleasure and he slowly works you through it. Wringing your body if every ounce of pleasure it can gleam from his tongue. “Fucking hell, Frankie,” you pant, grasping at breaths as he slowly lets you down again off the cloud-like pillow of bliss.

Chuckling, he kisses your clit one last time and crawls back up the bed to lay down beside you, throwing a leg over yours. “Good?”

“Good?” The incredulity in your voice is marked by a throaty laugh. “Yeah, flyboy. Extremely good.”

“Well, the old motto of the Army is ‘Be All That You Can Be’.” He jokes

“You’re doing amazing, baby.” You promise him with a chuckle. “When…um, when do you have to be back?” It’s a Sunday and you know fuck all about what an average day in the military is like, but all you really want to know is how much longer you’ll get to savor having him right here beside you.

“Flight training at zero five thirty on Monday. So, I can’t drink tonight.” He explains, thinking you might want to go back to the bar.

“That’s fine.” Tipping your head back so your chin rests on his chest, you crack a smile that warms through your whole body despite being nervous at the question. “Does that mean you might want to hang out today?” He could easily have told you he had plans or obligations, but he didn’t, and you can feel the hope swell in your chest.

He pauses for a moment before a slow smile slides across his face. “I think that would be fun.” He tells you, sliding his hands up and down your back. “Your roommates said there were cinnamon rolls, but we could always go get breakfast, swing by base and grab a set of civvies for me.”

“What are your feelings on shared showers?” The sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes reads as delight and you can feel a rabble of butterflies erupt in your belly. “There’s a new diner on Main Street that I’ve been dying to try. My treat.”

He huffs and pokes his lip out at you. “Now my momma would beat me if I let a lady pay the morning after.” He tells you with a grin.

"You're gonna let me pay for something eventually." You tell him in a tone that brokers no protests, but the sunny grin on your face says it's not a serious matter in the least and you lean in just barely to kiss the pout off his perfect lips. "Is that a yes?"

“Maybe.” He concedes, with his own grin on his lips. “Why don’t we try to share that shower and then we will see where today takes us.” He offers, feeling like he is asking something more serious than just a day after a one-night stand.

Sitting up beside him in your own bed, with your sheets disheveled and his gorgeous face looking up at you from a pile of pillows, you reach out to brush your thumb along his jaw and smile harder than you possibly ever have in your life. "Wherever that is? I hope it's someplace worth talking about."

Frankie smirks, sending you a playful wink. “You’re with a flyboy.” He quips. “Of course, wherever it is will be cloud nine.”

______

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