#so I’m like well here’s what I usually do but I can go to the OPC one on Friday instead

[creamflix]

I LOVE BAD BITCHES THAT’S MY FUCKIN’ PROBLEM! ၄၃ satosugu x female reader

18+ content, minors or blank blogs don't interact. unestablished relationship, roommate arrangement. bisexual! satosugu, top! suguru + switch! satoru. threesome. humiliation, degradation, dirty talk. m. masturbation. exhibitionism, slight voyeurism. fingering. orgasm control + denial. finger sucking. sloppy makeouts + three at once. oral (f. recieving) + squirting, clit/pussy slapping. riding. double penetration. face sitting. overstimulation. prostate stimulation. accidental love confession during the heat of it all. weirdly happy ending? - rl's established

thank you so much for 1OOO followers you lil freaks divas. this took so much time to write lol, i hope you all see the vision. this work was inspired by this smut audio by augustinthewinter. the link takes you to a re-upload on spotify [for easier listening], and sadly not the audio posted by the original creator. do your part and please support him and his work here <3 

— masterlist here ☆

you’re pretty sure you’ll be fine if you just ignore the tension radiating from your bed behind you.

you’re adjusting your eyeliner in the mirror, a faint smile on your lips, trying to focus on the excitement of the night ahead.

still, the weight of suguru’s silent gaze feels like a steel rod pressing against your back.

every now and then, you catch his reflection in the mirror, arms folded, brow furrowed slightly, watching your every move without saying a word.

and then, of course, satoru comes crashing in, slinging the door open like he owns the place. he practically throws himself onto the bed next to suguru, his excitement bursting out like it usually does.

“hey, hey, what if the three of us got wasted and binged some trashy netflix show? i’m thinking love is blind — oh, wait, you’re —” he blinks, taking in your outfit.

his voice trails off, and his expression turns from bright to bewildered as he glances from you to suguru, then back again.

“wait, where are you going dressed like that?”

you sigh, knowing there’s no way you’re escaping this.

“i… have a date,” you admit, smoothing out the fabric of your outfit. you catch suguru’s eyes in the mirror, and he raises an eyebrow, his arms still crossed, jaw set tight.

“oh?” suguru’s voice is cool, almost too calm, but there’s an edge underneath that doesn’t escape you.

“does he know you live with two men?”

you swallow, fiddling with your hair as you avoid his eyes. “well… no, i mean, it just never came up.”

satoru lets out a low whistle, leaning back on his hands, giving you a once-over that’s half-impressed, half-amused.

“so you’re planning to let him find out on his own when he walks in here and sees us? that’s bold.”

you roll your eyes, though you feel your cheeks heat up under their combined scrutiny. “it’s not like that! it’s just… i don’t know. i didn’t think it mattered.”

“doesn’t matter, huh?” suguru’s voice is low, almost a growl, and he stands up, slowly, crossing the room until he’s standing just behind you. he’s close enough that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck, his reflection towering over you in the mirror.

“so, what’s he like?” he asks, voice dripping with an intensity that makes your heart race a little faster.

you open your mouth to respond, but satoru’s laugh cuts you off. “yeah, yeah, tell us! tall, dark, and handsome, or short, plain, and boring?”

you bite back a grin, feeling the tension lighten just slightly with satoru’s teasing. “he’s nice. a gentleman, really. you’d probably like him,” you say, attempting a casual tone, though you can feel suguru’s stare growing sharper.

“a gentleman?” suguru scoffs, his lips curling into a smirk. “think he’d still be one if he knew you had two roommates watching out for you?”

“maybe he’d be intimidated,” satoru chimes in, grinning. he gets up from the bed, crossing the room to stand by suguru. “i mean, c’mon. anyone would feel the pressure, having to impress not just their date but her two very intimidating roommates.”

“intimidating?” you laugh, glancing between them. “i doubt anyone would find either of you intimidating.”

“oh, so that’s how it is,” suguru murmurs, stepping even closer, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“you think we’re harmless?”

your heart thuds, pulse quickening as he leans in. “you know i didn’t say that,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

suguru’s close enough now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours, and there’s an undeniable thrill that makes your head spin just a bit.

“do you really think he can keep up with you?” he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face in the mirror. “think he’s enough?”

you don’t answer, mostly because you’re not sure how to.

suguru’s words linger in your mind, twisting in ways that make you hesitate, and you feel satoru’s gaze on you too, a spark of something mischievous and knowing in his expression.

“you know, it wouldn’t kill you to let us meet him,” satoru suggests, his voice a lazy drawl that only adds to the heat building in the room. “just to make sure he’s, y'know, worth your time.”

you bite your lip, glancing between the two of them in the mirror, feeling the weight of both their gazes, the way their words seem to dig deeper than they should.

“why do i feel like the two of you would scare him off?”

“maybe because we would,” suguru murmurs, his voice like a dark promise. “if he’s not up to standard.”

satoru grins, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“or maybe we just want to keep you to ourselves.”

your heart skips a beat, and you’re sure your face must be burning.

“you two are unbelievable,” you manage, trying to laugh it off, though the sound comes out more breathless than you’d like.

you feel your stomach drop the second you realize satoru's got your phone. he'd snatched it up casually, thumb already working its way across the screen, entering your password like he's done it a million times. he lets out a strangled sort of noise as he stares down at the screen, his wide blue eyes taking in whatever he's found with an expression of pure shock.

"uh, what exactly have you been watching here?" satoru barely suppresses a snicker as he holds up the phone for suguru to see.

"‘getting used by my two roommates 'til i can’t walk?’ really?" he reads the title, drawing out every word in that slow, teasing tone he loves to use. "didn’t know you were into…this."

suguru’s dark eyes flash as he looks from the screen to you. he tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that signature mix of irritation and amusement. "that's why you’ve been ignoring us, huh? too busy fantasizing to even tell us you had a date tonight?”

“it’s not —" you start, but suguru's hand is already at your waist, pulling you into his lap, effortlessly pinning you against him. your back’s pressed against his chest, and he’s got you facing the mirror, the smirk in his eyes only growing sharper as he settles you firmly on top of him.

“stay still," suguru murmurs, his voice a low hum, sending a shiver up your spine. "i wanna see you finish your makeup. maybe you’ll explain what’s going on here while you do."

satoru, still grinning, swipes further through your history, leaning closer with a loud, exaggerated gasp. "ohoho, what’s this? ‘my roommates won’t let me leave until i’ve begged them’? suguru, she’s got a whole list of ‘em!”

“tell me, sweetheart,” suguru’s voice drips with mock sweetness, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “are you disappointed it’s only a video?”

you try to fight the blush threatening to paint your cheeks, attempting to focus on your eyeliner, but his hand at your hip keeps your body flush against him, heat radiating off him in waves. “you know i didn’t… it’s just a video, okay?”

“just a video, huh?” suguru’s thumb strokes your waist, and you catch his intense gaze in the mirror, dark and heavy-lidded, roaming over every flustered inch of your face. “don’t act so innocent.”

satoru snickers, flipping through more tabs on your phone. “so, when were you planning on telling this poor date of yours that you’ve got two guys in the apartment with you? two very protective guys, at that?”

“satoru —”

“nah, ’s cute.” satoru gives a little shrug, glancing at suguru with a grin. “she thinks she can just go on some little date and come home without us findin' out what she's been doin'.”

suguru’s grip tightens, forcing you to keep your gaze fixed in the mirror as he presses his lips close to your ear, voice low and dangerously smooth. “you like being watched that badly, huh? well, i’ll make sure you don’t even get a chance to squirm.”

you’re struggling to focus, trying to keep your hand steady as you bring the eyeliner back to your lash line, but it’s almost impossible with suguru’s iron grip keeping you firmly on his lap, his arms wrapped around you like you might escape at any second. his breath skims against the back of your neck, and he chuckles softly each time your hand trembles, knowing full well what he's doing to you.

meanwhile, satoru’s barely holding it together on the edge of the bed, and he’s not even trying to hide it. he’s got one hand slowly working his dick over his pants, the other still gripping your phone as he reads off your search history, letting out a low, exaggerated groan between words.

“let’s see… ‘getting absolutely used by my two roommates’…” satoru moans out the title, every word slipping from his lips laced with a mix of teasing and raw need.

his eyes flicker over to you, heavy-lidded, a wicked smirk creeping onto his face. “y'know, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart.”

you shift in suguru's lap instinctively, your body craving some kind of friction, some release for the ache pooling between your legs. but his hold only tightens, hands splaying over your thighs to keep you completely still.

“what do you think you’re doing?” suguru’s voice is low, dangerous, his gaze dark as he watches you through the mirror. “i told you to keep still. or do you need a reminder of who’s in control here?”

the demand in his tone leaves no room for defiance, but your pulse quickens, the heat radiating from his chest pressing into your back as he keeps you locked against him. you bite down on your lip, doing everything you can to keep yourself composed, but your voice comes out in a breathy whisper. "s-suguru… please, i just —"

“‘please,’ huh? sounds like you’re already begging,” he murmurs, lips grazing the curve of your neck, sending a jolt of anticipation straight to your cunt. his fingers trail lightly over your hips, teasing, but keeping you pinned firmly in place.

“but begging isn’t going to get you what you want tonight.”

satoru lets out a soft laugh, the sound melting into a quiet groan as he slips his hand into his pants, finally giving himself the relief he’s been aching for. “oh, don’t worry, i think she’s getting everything she wanted, alright,” he says between breaths, his eyes flickering between you and suguru with that playful glint that drives you wild.

he jerks himself slowly, deliberately, his breath catching as he reads off another title from your history, voice turning breathy as his hand works himself harder.

“this one’s good… ‘roommate makes me sit still while i drip for him.’ god, you’ve got a real filthy mind, don’t cha?”

your cheeks burn as you try to keep your gaze fixed on your reflection, hands shaking as you lift the mascara wand, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. but your efforts are futile, every word they throw at you stoking the heat building in your cunt, making it harder and harder to focus.

“don’t worry, sweetheart,” suguru’s voice is a rough whisper, his lips curling into a smirk as he catches your gaze in the mirror. “we’re just giving you what you’ve been craving all along.”

satoru’s moans fill the room, breath hitching each time his hand slides down his dick, the rhythm picking up as his eyes darken with lust. he’s not even hiding his arousal anymore, not holding back, his gaze burning as he watches the two of you in the mirror.

“c’mon, 'guru, stop teasin' her. hike up that damn dress, let’s see what she’s hiding under there.”

suguru’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, the glint in them both dangerous and amused. he moves slowly, his hands sliding down to the hem of your dress, lifting it inch by inch, fingers brushing over your thighs, making your skin tingle as he exposes more of you. he lets out a quiet hum of approval as he tugs your dress up to your waist, leaving you sitting there, fully exposed, save for the thin fabric of your panties.

“these are cute,” suguru murmurs, voice low and teasing as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness, letting them fall to the floor. he lets his hand trail back up, grazing the inside of your thigh, making you tremble with anticipation. “don’t even think about moving, sweetheart. if you mess up your makeup, ’m stopping.”

you swallow hard, nodding, feeling your pulse throb as his fingers dip lower, brushing against your already-sensitive clit. the touch is feather-light, almost too soft, and it leaves you aching for more.

satoru groans from the bed, his hand moving faster as he watches you, his reflection in the mirror every bit as unrestrained as his tone. “that’s it, sugu'. make her beg. let her feel what she’s been fantasizing about this whole time.”

you force yourself to focus on your blush, lifting the brush to your cheeks, trying to keep your hand steady even as suguru’s fingers start moving in slow, deliberate circles against your clit. the pleasure sparks through you, making it nearly impossible to concentrate, and you can feel your cheeks burning, your breathing quickening with every movement of his hand.

“s-sugu… please… don’t stop,” you manage, voice barely more than a whisper, laced with desperation as you fight to keep your grip on the brush. “please… i’ll do anything.”

he chuckles, low and taunting, leaning closer to your ear, his fingers pressing down just a little harder. “then keep your hands steady, doll. if you want me to keep goin', you better not mess this up.”

but it’s useless; between suguru’s teasing touch and satoru’s moans filling the room, your hands are already trembling, and the brush slips, leaving a streak of blush too high on your cheek, too heavy, ruining the carefully crafted look you’d been working on.

suguru notices instantly, his eyes narrowing, a mocking smirk on his lips as he catches your mistake in the mirror.

“well, look at that. can’t even follow simple instructions, can you?” he tsks, pulling his fingers away, leaving you aching, desperate, empty.

“n-no, sugu, please —” you stammer, voice raw with need, looking at him through the mirror, eyes pleading. “please, i’ll fix it, i swear. just don’t stop, please… i need it, i need you —”

satoru laughs, still stroking himself, his voice thick with pleasure as he watches you beg. “she’s real desperate for it, 'ruru. look at her, practically falling apart from just a little teasing.”

suguru’s gaze is unyielding, his smirk growing as he leans in, his breath hot against your skin. “then maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep still,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. "maybe i should let you sit here and watch instead. see what happens when you don’t listen.”

your heart pounds, every nerve in your body on fire, and you’re barely even thinking when you grab his wrist, pulling his hand back to where you need him most.

“please, suguru,” you beg, voice thick with desperation. “i’ll do anything… i’ll fix it, just… please touch me. don’t leave me like this.”

satoru’s groans are growing louder, filling the room with the heat of his breathy, drawn-out moans as he watches the scene unfolding in the mirror.

“yeah, sugu',” he mutters, hand working faster over his dick, his eyes trained on your reflection. “spread those pretty folds f'me. lemme see her fall apart.”

without a moment’s hesitation, suguru’s fingers grip your thighs, spreading your legs wider, baring you completely in front of the mirror, his hand moving down to part your slick folds with calculated ease. you gasp, your cheeks burning as you take in the sight — your own reflection, flushed and needy, legs open, your slick glistening in the low light. suguru’s eyes flick to the mirror, catching your gaze, smirking as he takes in the mess you’re making on his lap.

“look at that,” suguru murmurs, voice low and edged with satisfaction. his fingers slip between your folds, gathering the wetness that’s been dripping down onto him, his smirk only deepening as he holds his slick-coated fingers up in the mirror, showing you just how worked up you are. “you’re soaking me, sweetheart. did you really expect me to stay calm with you squirming like this?”

“s-sugu…” you whimper, feeling yourself clench as his fingers dance between your folds, teasing but not quite giving you what you’re aching for. every brush of his skin against yours sends another wave of heat through you, and your head falls back against his shoulder, lips parted in silent desperation.

“such a messy girl,” he continues, pressing a single finger into you, slow and deliberate, making you feel every inch as he slides in. “this what you wanted? to end up spread open, on display for us?”

you can barely form words, your mind hazy with need, hips instinctively rolling against his hand despite his warning to stay still. “yes… yes, please…”

satoru’s moans grow louder as he watches you, the slick sound of his hand stroking himself filling the room. “fuck, look at her, suguru,” he pants, voice thick with arousal. “all pretty 'n desperate, just like she’s been dreaming about.” his eyes fall shut, his hand moving faster as he chases his high, the sight of you enough to send him over the edge. his hips jerk forward as he cums, his body trembling, a low, satisfied groan escaping his lips as he rides out his release.

suguru only smirks, his gaze never leaving your reflection, watching your every reaction with a dark, predatory satisfaction. “see that?” he murmurs, his fingers moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to let you cum.

“even satoru couldn’t keep himself together, and here you are, makin' a mess all over my lap.” he chuckles, a teasing glint in his eyes. “tell me, sweetheart, did you really think i wouldn’t get turned on by seeing you like this? so desperate, so needy?”

“i… i didn’t think…” you stammer, the words catching in your throat as his finger curls inside you, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

“didn’t think?” suguru’s voice is a low, dangerous hum, his other hand slipping up to wrap lightly around your throat, holding you firmly in place. “then maybe you should’ve thought a little harder.”

satoru practically stumbles forward, his legs still shaky, breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as he moves closer. he’s got that pleading look in his eyes, the one that’s rare, the one that only comes out when he’s truly desperate. resting his head against suguru’s shoulder, he lets out a soft, shuddering breath, voice low and needy as he murmurs, “suguru… let me taste her. please.”

suguru’s lips curl into a smirk, clearly reveling in the control he holds over both of you. he doesn’t respond right away, just looks at you through the mirror, dark eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something far more possessive.

“hear that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, dipping his fingers back between your folds, swirling them slowly, thoroughly, gathering every bit of slick as he teases you with languid strokes. “even satoru can’t resist you.”

you gasp, body shivering as his fingers press against you, teasing the sensitive spot that has you arching in his lap, barely able to keep your head straight. suguru’s hand is relentless, moving with a torturous slowness that leaves you aching, dripping, clinging to the last bit of control you have left.

then, with deliberate care, suguru pulls his fingers back, coated in your slick, and holds them up in front of satoru’s lips, his gaze hard and commanding. “go on, then. taste her.”

satoru’s eyes darken with unrestrained hunger as he stares at suguru’s fingers, coated with the evidence of your arousal. without hesitation, he parts his lips, leaning in to take suguru’s fingers into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks gently, his tongue swirling around suguru’s fingers, tasting you fully. he moans, soft and low, savoring the taste, his body shuddering as he licks every trace of slick from suguru’s skin, desperate, greedy.

“fuck, she tastes so good,” he murmurs, voice thick, almost reverent, as he licks his lips, leaning in closer to you, his gaze heated. “didn’t know you could be this sweet.”

suguru chuckles softly, watching satoru with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement, his fingers finding their way back between your folds, slipping in with ease, now even more eager to tease you, to push you right to the edge and keep you there.

“well, you heard him, sweetheart. seems like we’re both a little addicted to you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety taunt, his breath hot against your ear. “you’d better get used to this — having both of us right where you want us. or, should i say, right where we want you?”

you’re lost in the haze of it all, every shred of control slipping as you feel yourself practically begging, voice breaking with need. “please, sugu… 'toru… i need… just, please, do something — anything,” you gasp, head tilting back, completely vulnerable under their gaze. "can't take it anymore."

satoru’s hand slips around suguru’s shoulder, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to suguru’s neck, lips brushing against his skin as he murmurs, “c’mon, sugu, don’t be so mean to her.” he lets his teeth graze just slightly, a playful nip that’s more coaxing than demanding. “just look at her, desperate for us, dripping all over you. can’t you give her a little taste of what she’s been begging for?”

suguru’s gaze flickers between you and satoru, a dark smile on his lips, but you can see the way his resolve begins to soften under satoru’s coaxing. his grip loosens just enough, giving you a chance to scramble up, your legs feeling like jelly as he finally lets you go. he stands, smirking down at you with a hunger that makes you shiver, and gestures for you to sit back on satoru’s lap.

the vanity chair feels cold beneath you, but the warmth of satoru’s chest pressed against your back is intoxicating, his hands coming down to rest on your thighs, spreading them apart. he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “thaaat’s it, baby, open up for sugu. let him see how pretty you are.”

you whimper as you feel suguru’s fingers trailing up your inner thigh, eyes locked on cunt as he kneels down between your legs, his gaze dark and unyielding, filled with that same possessive hunger you’ve come to crave. his hands settle on your thighs, tugging you just a bit closer, his grip firm as he lowers his head, placing a kiss right against your aching, dripping pussy.

satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs, keeping them spread, his lips brushing against your ear. “look at you, such a messy lil' thing. bet you never thought we’d be the ones to make you this needy, hm?” his voice is a low murmur, taunting yet sweet, driving you to the edge with every word. “just let suguru take care of you… let him taste allll that sweetness you’ve been saving just for us.”

“oh god… please,” you breathe, voice breaking as suguru’s tongue flicks against your perky clit, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you. he works with a deliberate intensity, his mouth moving in slow, tantalizing circles, teasing you, pushing you higher and higher, until you can barely think, every nerve alight with sensation.

“thaaaat’s right, just like that,” satoru murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter, keeping you spread wide open as he watches suguru devour you. “such a pretty lil' thing, all laid out for us… makin' a mess just for him.” his hand moves up, sliding around to your chest, fingers grazing over your nipples as he leans in close, lips brushing against your neck. “think you can take more? think you can handle everything we want to do to you?”

suguru’s mouth moves with more intensity now, his tongue pressing harder, faster, flicking over your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. his fingers slip inside you, curling just right, hitting that spongey spot that has you arching back against satoru, your voice breaking into a desperate, breathless moan.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?” satoru coos, his tone almost mocking, a playful edge to it as he watches your every reaction in the mirror. “look at you, falling apart so easily. gonna make such a pretty mess, aren’t cha?”

suguru’s fingers pump into you, his tongue swirling, flicking, his movements pushing you to that razor’s edge. his grip on your thighs tightens as he feels you tremble, his own hunger growing as he devours you with an almost feral intensity. "come on," he growls against you, his voice low, sending vibrations through you. "cum for us, show us how much you need it."

and that’s all it takes — his fingers curling inside you, his mouth pressing down, sending you spiraling over the edge as you cry out, back arching, body quivering as your orgasm crashes over you. you feel yourself let go, shuddering in their hold, leaving you breathless, a mess on satoru’s lap as suguru keeps working you through it, lapping up every bit of your sweet cum, refusing to let you come down easily.

“there you go,” satoru murmurs, voice laced with satisfaction as he keeps you spread wide, watching you come undone, helpless and completely at their mercy. “such a good girl… makin' a mess for us like that.”

suguru pulls back slowly, a smug grin plastered on his face, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. he chuckles lowly, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he wipes a bit off his face with the back of his hand, though not nearly enough to hide what he’s done to you.

“look at that,” he taunts, giving you a mockingly impressed look. “made ya squirt allll over my face. you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? such a messy little thing…” he trails off, licking his lips as if savoring every last taste.

you feel heat rush to your face, a needy whimper slipping from your lips as you squirm in satoru’s lap. “don’t… don’t say it like that,” you mumble, your voice trembling, though there’s no denying how much his words affect you. you can’t hide how badly you’re still aching, the intense wave of arousal making you want more, despite the fact that you just came, and squirted, at that.

satoru’s hands roam along your thighs, holding you tight, his lips curved into a playful grin as he leans forward, his mouth hovering close to suguru’s. “she did a number on ya, huh?” he says, eyes gleaming with delight as he catches sight of the slick coating suguru’s chin.

without missing a beat, satoru closes the gap, his lips capturing suguru’s in a deep, messy kiss, tasting you on him, savoring it. he moans softly, the sound low and teasing, his tongue exploring with unrestrained enthusiasm as he presses closer.

the sight of them kissing, sharing your taste, is almost too much to bear. you can’t stop the whimper that escapes you, a sound so needy it leaves you breathless. “don’t leave me out,” you plead, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “please… i want…”

they both pull back, a wicked grin spreading across satoru’s face as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing your lip in a slow, taunting motion. “oh, sooo needy, aren’t cha?” he purrs, enjoying every bit of your desperation. “well, we can’t just ignore a request like that, can we, sugu?”

“not at all,” suguru murmurs, his voice low and filled with mischief as he moves closer, settling back down in front of you. he places his hands on your thighs, his fingers curling possessively as he draws nearer. “c'mon, sweetheart. let’s make it a little messier, just how like you like it.”

satoru’s hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you in as his lips brush against yours, just close enough to make your pulse race. suguru’s hand finds its way to your cheek, and in a moment, the three of you come together in a heated, breathless kiss. your lips meet satoru’s first, his mouth soft but demanding, as suguru’s lips slide over yours from the other side, his taste mingling with the lingering remnants of your own cum. it’s dizzying, overwhelming, the way they both claim you, tongues slipping against yours, tasting, exploring, hands holding you in place as if you might slip away.

“you taste so damn good,” suguru whispers against your lips between kisses, his voice hoarse, filled with a dark satisfaction. he pulls you back into another kiss, his tongue dancing with yours before satoru’s slips in, joining the two of you, the three of you completely lost in each other.

“bet you never thought ya’d end up like this, huh?” satoru teases, voice a breathy murmur as his lips trail down to your jaw, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that have you arching closer to him. “on my lap, our pretty little thing, squirmin' and desperate for both of us.”

suguru lets out a quiet sigh, and you can see the strain of impatience tightening his jaw as he kneels in front of you and satoru, his brow furrowed in something halfway between a pout and a scowl. he’s letting you and satoru indulge and draw things out, but his patience— impressive as it is — seems to be fraying at the edges.

“look at you two,” he murmurs, a dry chuckle slipping out. “have your fun, make your mess, and where does that leave me?” his gaze flickers between you and satoru, voice low and pointed. “just standing here, waiting, like a good little bystander?”

“oh, poor suguru,” satoru teases, his hand running soothingly down your back as he shifts you on his lap. “you’ve been so patient, haven’t you? just watching and… wanting?” satoru’s lips twitch in a smirk, his fingers curling against your hip as if making a show of it for suguru’s benefit.

suguru’s eyes narrow slightly, his usual calm slipping into something darker. “patience only goes so far, satoru,” he mutters, tone thick with frustration. “you two get to cum like a bunch of damn teenagers, but where does that leave me?”

you reach out, voice soft, feeling a pang of guilt. “suguru… don’t be mad.” you give him a small smile, tugging him closer. “we didn’t forget about you.”

satoru grins, pulling suguru even closer. “yeah, don’t worry, we’re all yours now. what do you want, hmm?” his voice drops, playful but inviting, his hand resting on suguru’s shoulder.

suguru’s hand reaches out to cup your chin, thumb tracing along your jaw as he finally, slowly, allows himself to smile. “maybe,” he says, voice soft but firm, “you both owe me a little something for waiting so long. i’ve put up with enough teasing.”

satoru chuckles, sharing a look with you before looking back at suguru. “oh, we can more than make it worth the wait, can’t we?”

suguru’s eyes glint with that familiar authority as he finally straightens up, standing up and crossing the room with calm, measured steps. his gaze flickers between you and satoru, a quiet command already forming in his dark, focused eyes. he looks pointedly at satoru, a hint of impatience underscoring his words.

“satoru,” he says, his voice low and firm, “take her to the bed. it’s about time you two put in some work.”

satoru’s eyes light up with a mischievous gleam, and he scoops you up, one arm slipping under your knees as he gently lifts you, carrying you to the bed without a second’s hesitation.

he sets you down on the bed, hands lingering on your waist as he leans in close, his gaze warm but teasing. suguru settles back in the chair by your vanity, crossing one leg over the other with a deliberate slowness as he watches, amusement flickering in his eyes. there’s a clear expectation in his expression, a silent reminder that he’s still in control here.

“don’t let me down now, satoru,” suguru says, his voice rich with authority, his gaze unwavering. “show me exactly how well you can follow instructions.”

suguru exhales sharply, eyes narrowing as he watches you and satoru with a simmering impatience. his jaw tightens as he pushes down his waistband in one swift motion, freeing himself with a low, restrained groan as his hand wraps around his dick, stroking slowly, his gaze heavy and fixed on the two of you.

“don’t just sit there,” he says, his tone edged with authority. “if you’re so set on putting on a show, then do it right. make it worth my while.”

satoru grins, a glint of challenge in his eyes as he glances at you, his fingers tracing down your arm before he pulls you close, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

“guess we’d better make him happy, hmm?” he teases, hands resting on your hips as he guides you down onto his dick, his touch both reassuring and charged with excitement. “don’t want to disappoint, do we?”

you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but there’s a thrill in being watched, knowing suguru’s eyes are glued to every little move you make. your hands grip satoru’s shoulders, and he chuckles, encouraging you as you settle in him, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

“that’s it,” suguru murmurs, his tone dark with satisfaction. “show me how eager you are.”

you can feel satoru’s grip tighten, his breath hitching as you begin to move, finding a rhythm together. satoru’s hands roam along your waist, his voice filled with playful heat as he whispers, “keep going, just like that. let him see how good you are.”

suguru laughs, a low, mocking sound as he sits back, continuing to jerk himself off, his dark gaze fixed on you, unrelenting. “pathetic. you think you deserve to be taken out and treated sweetly?” he scoffs, eyes narrowing. “you’ve got two men right here who know exactly what you need, and you were gonna settle for some monkey? that’s adorable.”

the humiliation sinks in, burning hot under your skin as suguru’s words echo in your head. you try to keep your focus, to follow each command as satoru’s hands guide your movements, urging you to grind down on him, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers filthy encouragements that send shivers down your spine.

“come on pretty, don’t look at him, look at me,” satoru murmurs, fingers pressing into the tender flesh of your hips, directing you with a firm, possessive touch. “thaaat’s it. show him who you really belong to.”

your hands tremble as you cling to satoru’s shoulders, eyes flicking back and forth between him and suguru, who’s watching with that insatiable hunger in his eyes, his own hand moving lazily along his dick, strokes slow, deliberate, just enough to keep himself on the edge as he observes every humiliating, vulnerable moment between you and satoru.

“god, you look so pathetic right now,” suguru sneers, his voice thick with disdain, though his eyes glint with barely contained desire. “tears in your eyes, desperate to please us. tell me, was this what you were hoping for? were you just pretending to go on that date so we’d punish you? is that it?”

“n-no, i… i just thought…” the words choke in your throat as you feel satoru’s hand slide up to grip the back of your neck, his touch both comforting and possessive, holding you in place, forcing you to look into suguru’s intense gaze as he studies every quiver of your lips, every tear that spills over.

“don’t lie to us,” suguru snaps, and the sheer authority in his voice sends a thrill through you, leaving you helpless as you try to keep your rhythm on satoru’s lap, your body caught between the need to please them both and the overwhelming shame of being so exposed, so vulnerable under their scrutiny.

“you’re lucky ’m lettin' him touch you first,” suguru continues, voice low, his hand moving faster now, breaths coming in harsher pants as his own arousal intensifies. “lucky i’m not dragging you over here and showing you what real punishment feels like. maybe then you’d think twice about pulling a stunt like this again.”

“i… i’m sorry,” you whimper, the apology tumbling out without thought, the words desperate, choked as you try to meet suguru’s unyielding gaze, wanting so badly to appease him, to make up for even the idea of going anywhere without them. satoru’s grip tightens, his hands moving with a rougher urgency, guiding your hips faster, harder against him as he murmurs praises, teasing promises against your neck.

“yeah? you’re sorry, huh?” suguru taunts, leaning forward, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “then prove it. show me how sorry you are by doing exactly what we tell you — no hesitation. make me believe you’d do anything to keep us happy.”

“y-yes, suguru…” you whisper, cheeks burning with shame as you follow satoru’s guidance, riding him just the way he wants, feeling every inch of him pressing into you, the tension building with each movement, each lewd sound that fills the room.

“good girl,” suguru breathes, eyes dark, satisfaction evident as he watches you, his strokes quickening, matching the pace of your desperate motions, his gaze unwavering, fixed on the sight of you breaking down, surrendering completely to their control. “maybe this will teach you who you really belong to.”

satoru’s grip on your waist tightens with each roll of your hips, his smirk stretching wider as he watches you struggle to keep pace, his cock stretching you until your thighs tremble. your own voice, hoarse and raw, betrays you with every sound that slips free, the room filled with your desperate, incoherent whimpers.

but it’s suguru who keeps that edge of humiliation sharp, his fingers finding every weak spot, every place that makes you melt and squirm as he's behind you.

“c’mmon, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension as his fingers pinch and twist your sensitive nipples. the roughness makes you gasp, your body arching as you try to focus, but his low chuckle tells you he knows just how close to breaking you really are.

“thought you wanted to go out and be wined and dined, hm? but look at you,” he taunts, his words hitting deeper than any touch could. “acting like a little masochist, practically begging for more. ’m not even sure you remember who’s inside you right now, or are you just too dumb on ‘toru’s cock to care?”

“s-sugu… i–i can… i’m –” your words stumble, dissolve, lost in a gasp as his fingers come down with a sharp slap! against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure that makes your whole body shiver. it’s overwhelming, cruel, but there’s no denying how much you crave it - the brutal control, the way they push you further, faster, until all you can do is hold on.

“oh, i think you like it, babe,” satoru teases, his tone dripping with that cocky assurance as he watches your dazed expression. “see, you’re taking everything we’re givin' you, even that little ache in your hips. you’re just gonna keep goin', aren’t cha?”

“y-yes… anything… i’ll… i can — i can take it,” you pant, voice catching as you meet suguru’s dark eyes, filled with that familiar, ruthless amusement. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his touch unyielding as he pinches your nipples again, harder this time, watching with satisfaction as your face contorts with a mix of pleasure and pain.

“yeah? then prove it,” suguru breathes, his voice low, daring, as his fingers slide back down to flick against your swollen clit with a relentless pace. “show me how much you can handle. if you’re gonna be ours, then you’d better keep up.”

it’s cruel, it’s overwhelming, but that edge of that masochistic thrill surges through you as you sink deeper, surrendering to every brutal, delicious touch, loving it more than you could ever admit.

satoru’s grip on you falters, barely able to register when suguru thrusts into you from behind, satoru's hands gripping your waist like a lifeline as he tries to steady both of you under the sudden, relentless rhythm. the shock jolts through your whole body, forcing a strangled moan from your lips as you’re practically bounced between them, your mind barely keeping up with the intensity. it’s messy, overwhelming, the slickness of your bodies pressed together, every nerve ending alight.

“you little slut,” suguru snarls, voice rough and dark, his grip bruising as he slams into you, barely giving you a moment to adjust. “thought you could keep me out of this? thought ‘toru could have you all to himself? what a selfish bastard,” he sneers, throwing a mocking glance at satoru, who’s panting beneath you, just as helpless as you, his own words failing him in the haze of pleasure.

satoru’s only response is a choked groan, his nails digging into your skin as he’s forced deeper inside you with every brutal thrust from suguru. “f-fuck… yeah… yeah, you’re right, sugu,” he manages to gasp out, voice strained. “should’ve… should’ve let you have her from the start, huh?”

his words are broken, barely coherent, but the way his hips buck up to meet you makes it clear just how much he’s losing himself in the feeling, in the sight of you completely overwhelmed between the two of them. his eyes lock onto yours, desperation painted across his face as he breathes, “who’s making you feel better, huh, baby? tell us… tell us who’s got you like this.”

the question leaves you reeling, mind scrambling to answer as every thrust sends sparks down your spine, your body caught in the unyielding rhythm of their touch, their words. the overwhelming intensity builds, cresting higher and higher until you can’t even find the words, can’t think of anything but the way they’re both consuming you whole.

and when suguru’s fingers snake down to rub at your clit with punishing pressure, it sends you spiraling over the edge, your vision going white as your whole body clenches, shuddering violently. your orgasm crashes over you, raw and uncontrollable, soaking both of them as you shake, lost in the haze of pleasure that drowns out everything else.

“oh, fuuuck, yeaah… that’s it,” suguru growls, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you cum, his thrusts not slowing, his hand digging into your hips with renewed force. “knew you’d come apart like this, just needed a little push. pathetic, aren’t you? look at you, makin' a mess all over us.”

satoru moans, his own hips thrusting up as he feels your cum coat his dick, his eyes half-lidded, dazed. but before you can even catch your breath, satoru’s hands are already pulling you down, his grip firm as he positions you above him, eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger.

“oh, you thought you were done, sweetheart?” he taunts, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “nah, you’re not getting off that easy.”

he drags you forward, forcing you to settle over his mouth as he takes a loonnng, deliberate lick, his tongue swirling over your already sensitive folds. a sharp, keening whine escapes your lips as the overstimulation makes your head spin, hands scrambling to grip the headboard as you try to find any bit of balance.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” satoru groans against you, the vibrations of his voice making you shudder. “can feel you shakin', baby. what’s wrong? thought you could handle us?”

“sato — please,” you gasp, the plea spilling from your lips as his mouth works you over, his tongue relentless, flicking and sucking until you’re trembling, barely able to hold yourself up.

“oh, you’re just greedy, aren’t cha?” suguru’s voice comes from behind, mocking yet laced with desire as he steps up, his hands pressing down on your back, pinning you against satoru’s mouth as he positions himself against your other roommate. “actin' like a needy little thing… and leaving me to finish off while you get all comfy on ‘toru’s face?”

satoru lets out a muffled moan, and you realize suguru’s not just watching — he’s lining himself up against satoru, pushing inside with a sharp thrust that makes satoru’s body jerk beneath you, his hands digging harder into your thighs as he’s sandwiched against you both.

“fuck, suguru,” satoru moans, his voice coming out muffled as he keeps his mouth firmly latched onto you, his grip tightening as his body shivers with every thrust suguru gives him.

“god, 'toru, you’re so desperate,” suguru sneers, picking up a ruthless pace, each thrust making satoru’s tongue press deeper against you, pushing you closer to another orgasm despite the aching overstimulation that has you seeing stars. “you’re always actin' like a greedy little perv… can’t even let me have her to myself without gettin' ya share, huh?”

satoru’s hands move to grab your waist, pulling you closer, nearly burying his face in your sloppy pussy as he lets out a choked, needy whine against you. “c-can’t help it… shit, ya feel so good,” he gasps, voice muffled and broken, his breath warm against your swollen folds as his tongue presses deeper, eager and desperate. “taste s'sweet, baby… can’t get enough.”

you’re practically sobbing by now, your hands gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white as you rock against his face, feeling the pleasure climb with each swirl of his tongue, each brush of his lips. “i… i can’t… too much, satoru, please —”

“oh, you’re not going anywhere,” suguru growls, his hand coming up to push between your shoulder blades, forcing you to arch as he ruts into satoru, the sharp rhythm making you jolt with each movement. “you’re gonna stay right here and take it, just like the little slut you are, yeah? don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

satoru’s moans grow louder, more desperate, as he’s thrust into over and over, the pleasure and intensity breaking him down as his grip on you tightens, his mouth working you over with fervor, almost as if he’s trying to drown himself in you.

“who’s makin' ya feel good, huh?” suguru taunts, his voice dark and rough as he keeps up his pace, driving satoru’s face further against you with every thrust. “tell me who’s got you fallin' apart like this.”

“y-you both — oh god, both of you, please —” you stammer, your voice breaking as your thighs shake, every nerve alight, each stroke of satoru’s tongue pushing you closer until you’re lost, another orgasm overtaking you, spilling over like a flood that leaves you sobbing, spent, and completely theirs.

caught between suguru and satoru, the pleasure swells in waves, overtaking you so completely that words blur into desperate confessions, spilling out between gasps and shudders.

“l-love you… both of you, so much,” you babble, the sincerity threaded with breathless need, and it’s enough to push them over the edge.

satoru’s groans vibrate against you as he holds your hips, fighting to keep focus on your pleasure even as suguru’s relentless hand brings him to his own breaking point. he tries to keep his mouth steady, his tongue still teasing over you, but he’s undone, bucking helplessly, gasping, “shit… suguru, i —”

“you like this, don’t you?” suguru sneers, his voice thick with both pride and satisfaction as he thrusts into satoru. “can’t even take your eyes off her, even while i'm inside you,” he taunts, his words making even satoru flush. “look at you both, so desperate, so damn needy.”

satoru lets out a strangled moan, his body tensing as he comes, his release coating his own stomach as suguru’s hand jerks him through it. satoru’s head tilts back, eyes half-lidded with dazed pleasure, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he lets himself fall into the sensation, never breaking contact with you.

the combination of their sounds, suguru’s deep, satisfied groans as he spills into satoru, satoru’s quiet, shuddering gasps beneath you, and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your own body, sends you tumbling into your third - or was it fourth? - climax. it’s dizzying, consuming, leaving you boneless, shaking, barely holding onto the headboard as the last tremors run through you.

satoru is quick to catch you, his strong arms guiding you down to rest, his mouth softening from its earlier intensity as he places gentle kisses against your thighs. “ya good, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his tone tender, grounding you with a warm smile as he brushes damp strands of hair from your face.

“yeah… just, totally spent,” you mumble, a laugh slipping out as you relax into his hold. suguru settles beside you, his hand stroking soothing circles on your back, his gaze softened from its earlier sharpness.

“good girl,” suguru praises, his voice quiet now, full of affection as he pulls a blanket over you. “took everything we gave you… we’re proud of you.” his lips brush your forehead, and for a moment, there’s only warmth, only the steady rise and fall of your breaths.

you snuggle between them, letting out a contented sigh. “oh, by the way, um…” you start, a sheepish pout forming, “there wasn’t actually a date tonight.”

there’s a beat of silence before satoru bursts into laughter, his hands coming up to cover his face as he leans back, groaning.

“are you serious?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “we did all that because you made up some story?”

suguru smirks, though there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as he leans close, tugging you gently by the chin so you’re looking right at him. “you’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, voice low with amusement. “but you’re ours now, so there’s no need to make up stories to get our attention.”

“unless…” satoru teases, his eyes glinting mischievously. “you just like getting us all riled up.” he taps your nose, chuckling as he pulls you back against him, letting you rest in his embrace.

you let out a soft giggle, feeling safe, cherished, utterly at ease. satoru's arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against him as his laughter bubbles up, muffled by your hair.

"oh, yeah," he snickers, his voice low and teasing, "guess we’re a trio now, huh? what, you didn’t think it’d get official after all that?”

suguru huffs a laugh, his hand resting comfortably on your hip as he leans in, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of amusement and mischief. “our little trio, huh?” he murmurs, his tone somehow both affectionate and playful. “and here i thought you’d keep us on our toes a little longer.”

you look up at them both, cheeks still warm, lips swollen from all the breathless kisses, and you can’t help the laugh that spills out of you. “so that’s it, huh? i’m stuck with you two now?”

“stuck?” satoru grins, his voice full of mock offense. “you better be thrilled to be our third, princess. you know how hard it was to keep this one” — he tilts his head at suguru, whose smirk only grows — "from swooping in first?”

suguru chuckles, rolling his eyes as he brushes a thumb along your cheek, his voice dipping. “oh, she was always going to be ours,” he murmurs, confident and possessive. “it was just a matter of when.”

“and where,” satoru quips, giving your hip a playful squeeze, making you squirm with a laugh. "and how often."

you press your hand to your forehead, sighing dramatically. “what did i get myself into?” you mock-groan, only to have both of them pull you close, laughter and warmth wrapping around you, sealing you into your newfound trio — exactly where you want to be.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ mdni header by cafekitsune

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Ryan?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Ryan isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[seitmai]

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

Uff 😬

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

Damn

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

To know that you don't know a lot and will never know more is rough...

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

Sometimes being honest to oneself is not easy

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Hey, nobody slander thin crust there are far worse kind of pizza ☝🏻

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken. “…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown. “I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

God they are lowkey awkward together and neither of them just knows what to do with themselves 🥴

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

I feel like this maybe hurts Bradley more than her..

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

👀

Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese.

I mean it could be worse lol🤷🏻‍♀️

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

At that I would have laughed too 🤭

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That's really shitty, especially knowing Mav's reputation 🥴

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

At that they really share a bit of similar fate

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him. Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

Good thinking Bradley, nothing worse than an unwanted hug by a stranger 🫣

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

I'm sure he does 🤭

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.” Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

It seems his feeling run deep 😬

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?” Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that. “The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

This is rough... I get her questioning the process, it's not something that someone is usually confronted with..

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

🥺🥺🥺

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“ “Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is.

She has every right to be angry, upset and sad even if he really just ries to be nice, this is just not a good situation anyway and with the news of the investigation it just got SO MUCH worse🥴

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him. “You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

I like that he is thinking practical!

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse. He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. “You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

Just a night or two, sure 😏🤭

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: mitchell!reader, no physical descriptors other than the implication that Bradley is taller, no use of YN, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of you. This place is something that you had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not your home and it has never been, until now. Now, you’re stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, you had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of your bags in one hand behind you today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind you, reminding you that you’re standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

You shrug your duffel bag closer to your body and turn left. Bradley huffs under the weight of your luggage from behind you, watching you walk your cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of your single duffel bag, you turn slowly to face him and frown slightly. “My room.” 

You don’t remember Bradley. Not in your own memories, anyway. You know he was around, you’ve seen him in pictures but the image in your head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” You hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was yours. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was yours. It’s not like you kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that you would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between you. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on your face is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that you stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on your face, he hadn’t even considered leaving you here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for your sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” You agree, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like yours. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. You call Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of your bags and nodding for you to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as you walk silently across it, neither one of you would know that. Neither one of you was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind you, following you up. You stop at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind you.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around you with your bags in his hands and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at you. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, your shoes along the tan oak floors. Your fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding you of why exactly it is that you’re here.

Fire burns behind your eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets your bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling your eyes out, and you refuse to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again. That thick feeling sits in your throat like a stack of weights as you sit down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking your weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to you and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing you onto your feet again. 

Mobile once more, you turn slowly to take in your surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, you were prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing you want is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” You nod, setting into motion to help take the sheets off. You watch him instead of what you’re doing. 

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, you’ve not seen how he has been for the past few days. “I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to you with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of you until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

There’s a moment of total stillness between the two of you. Your gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of you. Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of you.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. You wonder if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. You stand there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew your dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking your brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, you can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside your shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, your experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to you as any of the other guys in the stories you grew up hearing about. Your very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at you.

He can’t hide from you forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of you. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. You’re barely unpacked. You set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever your space to claim.

You chew absentmindedly at the bite you had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above your heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why you aren’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for you. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here you are, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at you. Your hair is up now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs. You’re wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes you got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think you look that much like your old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when you offer him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

You stop chewing. That last bite sits in your mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. You stare across at him, awkwardly making yourself swallow down the last of your bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at your mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” You pick up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell you not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches you, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.” You explain with a shrug.

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For you, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into yours under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” You hum, pushing back in your chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that you wake up. He hears you coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s yours, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making you uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as you stroll into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at your eyes.

You’re wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt you had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if you’re wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making you lift your gaze from busily tapping at your phone. Your gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, you find his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. You lock your gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” You head right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when you grab the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. You set the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching your face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” You skim your fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much you know about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for you to get yourself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” You ask, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make your coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. You swing it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if you’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across your mind — what’ll happen to this place when you leave it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into your tone as you curl your fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on your face, stuck between whether you’re sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for you without thought. His palm claps against your shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on your shoulder, your eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what you’re searching for, or whether you find it. His fingers squeeze softly against your skin before the touch is gone all together.

You drink your coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in your silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — you don’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces you not to wear the more formal dress you had thought you’d have to wear. You slip into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes your dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, you watch him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; you silently appreciate that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when you cut sleep from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep you up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with your car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles you from your daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” You’re stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before you’re taking your next breath, leaving him to catch up to you. 

His long strides have him at your side before long, reaching ahead of you to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at your side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops you from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against yours.

He catches your forearm as you try to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on your forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of your wrist as he nods his head towards you.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way you’ve stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards you, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who you must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from your forearm and his palm falls flat between your shoulder blades, giving you a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid her hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while you continue down the hall.

Bradley catches up to you as you rap your knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against your thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind you. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into yours and shakes your hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting your hand go, he then reaches to your right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps your back as he leans into the handshake.

You step away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?” You answer.

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to you than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

You sit in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

You blink at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Your brows knit together.

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

You shoot him a look. When it’s clear that you aren’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects 

are delivered to you.”

You drag your teeth across your bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of your head.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns you. He’d heard that you had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead you about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for you. 

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing you across the parking lot, listening to you try to control your breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching you cautiously as you crowd yourself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

You sniff, turning your gaze towards the ground. The lump in your throat burns and bobs as you try to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[solxamber]

Heyya saw you're still open, so I will request my favorite character. I've been seeing a lot of RSA!Silver. So it's about Silver and MC/Yuu still not in relationships. Then some shenanigans happen. Where there's RSA version Silver shows up. I'm not sure if he can be a different character or personality, but the interpretation is up to you.

Imagine how RSA! Silver can be more up front showing affection to Yuu but Silver is not. It ends up confusing Yuu's feelings and makes Silver try his best to show his affection too. It's making RSA!Silver and Silver fighting over Yuu. Hopefully no problem.

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

loved the idea! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3

It all starts during a spell misfire, and suddenly an RSA student who looks exactly like Silver but acts a little differently is standing in the middle of the headmaster’s office, looking only mildly concerned. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley had crowed, immediately shoving the “guest” into your care.

The RSA Silver is… different. He’s friendlier, more open, and somehow even a little more dazzling with that unguarded smile he flashes your way. He introduces himself as a knight-in-training who’s proud to serve his prince with a wink and, surprisingly, a slight bow directed at you.

“This should be fun!” he says with a laugh, catching your stare.

Silver — your Silver — is already watching from the shadows, his calm gaze hardening when he sees RSA Silver’s warmth towards you. Normally, Silver isn’t easily rattled, but he finds himself lingering close, always observing this other version of himself who seems so openly comfortable with you.

The jealousy is subtle at first: he stands a little closer, making excuses to keep you nearby when RSA Silver is around.

And you? You’re a little bewildered yourself. This easy-going RSA Silver is affectionate in ways you aren’t used to — patting your shoulder when you’re joking, walking close enough to brush your arm, offering to help you with even the most minor tasks.

He’s friendly, sure, but it stirs up a mix of confusing emotions when compared to the quieter, more reserved Silver you know.

One afternoon, RSA Silver and Silver both linger in the garden as you sit with them. You’re laughing at something RSA Silver says, and he leans in, his expression soft. “I know we only just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for ages. When I leave, would you—”

Silver clears his throat, cutting RSA Silver off. “There’s no need to trouble them,” he says, almost flatly, surprising you with the way his usually calm expression is edged with something sharper.

RSA Silver just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he teases, crossing his arms. “But it’s cute.”

Silver’s jaw clenches. He moves closer, his presence steady and warm at your side, more open than usual. His gaze softens when he looks at you, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I don’t think you need anyone else,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

By the time RSA Silver’s two days are nearly up, the confusion you feel is almost overwhelming. Your heart’s been tugged between two versions of the same person, each showing you a different side.

When RSA Silver finally approaches you, his expression is thoughtful, almost reluctant. “I’ll be leaving soon, but… I’d like you to come with me. My world could use someone like you.”

It’s tempting, for a moment. You glance at Silver, the one who’s been by your side all along, steady and loyal, the one whose quiet strength has already won your heart.

You shake your head with a soft smile, looking back at RSA Silver. “I appreciate it, but… I think I’ve already found what I’m looking for here.”

RSA Silver accepts your answer gracefully, with a small, wistful smile. “He’s lucky, then,” he says, clapping Silver on the shoulder in a final parting gesture before disappearing in a swirl of magic.

As soon as he’s gone, Silver’s gaze locks onto yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for yours. “I… I wasn’t sure if you—” His words trail off, and without thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I always liked you, Silver. Just you.”

His face softens, his cheeks just barely pink, and he smiles — the genuine smile you don’t see very often. “I was hoping you'd say that”

Masterlist

[aewon]

when they find out you’re a mermaid

pairing: enhypen x f!reader g: fluff, est relationship warnings: cursing, pet names, kissing note: i’m literally writing an h2o inspired fic but i wanted to do this too hehe also i went crazy with sunghoon’s lmao

LEE HEESEUNG

you didn’t expect to see your boyfriend in your secluded area on the beach, and unfortunately it was too late to hide your tail.

“hey baby i—” cue the shock.

you’re looking at him in fear, not knowing what he’s gonna do next. is he gonna scream? run? tell someone? but he doesn’t do any of those things, he just asks, astonished, “you’re a mermaid?”

when you nod, he just walks forward, sitting on his knees beside you. “how did this happen?” when you explain it to him, he’s amazed. “i never knew something like that was possible.”

“are you afraid?” you ask him. he shakes his head, “afraid? baby i think you’re the most magnificent thing i’ve ever seen.” and he just looks at you like he’s even more in love than he already was.

“can i touch it?” he asks, and you know he’s referring to your tail. you giggle and nod, and he wastes no time in bring a gentle hand to it. the scales feel smooth against his hand and he’s mesmerized.

you ask if he’s gonna tell anyone and he shakes his head vehemently, “no, never. i would never put you in danger like that.” and you know that you can trust him.

PARK JONGSEONG

you invited your boyfriend over to confess something that’s been gnawing at you for awhile.

when he arrives, he gives you the usual hug and kiss, but quickly realizes something serious is going on.

“what’s wrong babe?”

you say nothing, just taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. while inside you sit on the bed, him following you.

“i have something to tell you… or rather, show you.”

you take the water bottle on your nightstand, open it, and pour just the smallest amount on yourself.

jay looks at you in confusion, but within seconds, you’ve transformed. it almost blinds it, the glowing light, but after it subsides, the first thing he sees is your tail.

“what the fuck?” he says, eyes wide and mouth open. “you’re a….mermaid?” as you tell him your story, he listens intently as he always does though he’s still shocked. once you finish, his mouth opens and closes like a fish, which you can’t help but find adorable. “are you mad?” you ask.

“no, i’m just… in awe i guess. i never thought mermaids were real but here you are.” he immediately promises that he won’t tell anyone to your relief and starts asking questions. as you show him your power, he looks like a kid in a candy shop.

“you’re amazing, i can’t believe my girlfriends a mermaid.” the giddy smile on his face makes you laugh.

SIM JAEYUN

you completely forgot that jake has a key to your apartment.

you don’t realize he’s inside until he’s barging into your bathroom while your mid-bath, in your mermaid form.

he jumps back, “what the fuck?”

you begin to stutter, trying to find something to say. “that’s a sick costume, why are you wearing it in the tub though?”

oh my god, you can’t help but laugh at his obliviousness. “it’s not a costume, jake. it’s real.” he blinks a couple times, looking like a confused puppy. “but mermaids aren’t real?”

“well, they are. and i’m one of them.”

he walks forward, running his hand along your tail and you can visibly see him shiver. “holy shit.”

once you explain how you became this way, he looks star struck. “so that pool really turned you, with the moon and everything?”

as you nod and answer more of his questions, him having comes to sit beside the tub on the toilet, you realize he’s not angry or upset. you voice this to him and he just gives you his signature smile, “of course i’m not angry. why would i be? i understand why you kept it from me.”

you relax, knowing you can trust him. within a few minutes he’s become obsessed with your tail. he’s continuously stroking it, amazed by the texture of the scales and the way your top is covered. you indulge him, feeling safe and relieved now that he knows.

PARK SUNGHOON

you knew you shouldn’t have come to this party. it’s a pool party for gods sake. you don’t belong near any pools. sunghoon is the one who invited you, it’s his party of course, why wouldn’t he invite his girlfriend? you should’ve came up with an excuse to miss it, but you didn’t want to disappoint him.

you figured as long as you stay covered from head to toe and stay away from the pool, you’ll be okay.

how wrong you were. not only are you getting questioning looks for your attire, your boyfriend being one of them, you can’t seem to get far away enough from the water.

“baby, are you okay? why are you wearing all that?” all that being layers and a long coat. you tell him you’re not feeling good and he pouts a little, “you could’ve told me, i would’ve understood.”

you know, but you didn’t want him to get suspicious.

without warning, two guys behind you suddenly lift you up, throwing you into the pool. your other friends that are there, manage to get everyone inside, locking them in with ice.

everyone except sunghoon.

as you turn, your worst fear comes to life as sunghoon looks at you in shock, or what you assume to be horror.

“what the hell is going on?” he says, backing away from the pool. you stutter as you try to explain, but you can hear the others trying to get back outside.

“help us sunghoon!” your friends beg, as they try to pull you out of the pool, but you’re too heavy.

he just stands there, frozen in place. you hold out your hand, “i’ll explain everything. just please, help me.”

your pleading eyes seem to snap him out of it, and then he’s helping pull you out of the pool onto the concrete. your friend quickly uses her power to begin drying your tail. it burns but you don’t complain.

when you’ve successfully changed back, you and the others rush out of there, not wanting people to question how you’re dry.

once away from the others, you explain yourself to sunghoon. the other girls backing you up. “are you upset?” you ask. sunghoon shakes his head, “not at all, just shocked and amazed. but don’t worry you’re all safe with me.” he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

KIM SUNOO

you and sunoo have been dating for a few months and you’ve been trying to find a way to tell him you’re a mermaid.

you decide to take him to mako island, where you know no one else will see.

“i don’t understand why we’re here. you know i don’t like hiking.” he’s complaining and you can’t help but giggle at his attitude. you promise him you’re almost there, and once you reach the opening you send him down first, following afterward.

“i damn near broke my ankle! what are we doing down here?”

you lead him to the moon pool, and he looks around in awe. “what is this place?”

“that’s what i wanted to show you,” you say before gently lowering yourself into the moon pool. sunoo just looks at you confused and starts to talk, “why are you getting in the water—"

he’s interrupted by the bright glow of your transformation. once your mermaid form is visible, he gasps.

“what the fuck? what is this? what are you? you’re a mermaid?” his mouth is moving a million miles a minute, throwing out question after question.

you finally manage to calm him down and explain what happened. his widened eyes eventually soften, “oh baby, why didn’t you tell me sooner? i’d never be upset or betray you.”

“i know, i was just scared.”

“you never have to be scared with me, i’ll never hurt you.” with that, he leans down, giving you a kiss.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was the human equivalent of a nerd. his interest in mythology of all kinds amazed you.

his latest fascination, mermaids. he tells you all about their “possible” existence, sightings, origins, everything there is to know. which is why, when you finally decide to show him your other form, he’s more than ecstatic.

“i fucking knew it, i knew they were real! holy shit my girlfriends a mermaid!”

you answer all his questions, confirming and denying facts and misconceptions. once he’s finally calmed down and not so jittery, you ask him, “you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

“and let them take you away to experiment on you and shit? no way! i’d never do that to you, i love you.”

you coo, “i love you more.”

you let him touch your tail, and he’s amazed by the luminescence of your scales. how they shine in the sunlight.

you tell him all about your abilities and power. showing him how you can manipulate water and speak to sea creatures.

“promise me you’ll take me swimming with you one time? i’d love to see you in action.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki was worried when you texted him, telling him you needed to talk. he expected the worst, that you were breaking up with him, not this by a long shot.

as he stares at your tail, his gaze unwavering, his face almost emotionless, you get nervous.

“riki, are you okay?”

he looks up at you finally, and just says, “you’re a fucking mermaid.” before going back to look at your tail.

you snort, “gee thanks for letting me know.”

he doesn’t even react to your sarcasm, just continues to stare.

“my girlfriends a mermaid. this is the coolest day of my life,” he says after a solid 5 minutes of silence.

you take his hand, bringing it to your tail to touch. he’s gentle, treating you as if you’ll break.

“this is the coolest day of my life,” he repeats.

you laugh, “we got that the first time. are you gonna tell?”

he shakes his head, “i don’t want anyone knowing about this except me. it’ll be our little secret.” he brings you forward for a kiss. letting you go, he jumps into questions, and you answer them all gratefully.

© AEWON 2024

[runraerun]

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next—a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before guiding them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s left alone.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but upsetting the newly departed usually isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Boys in Bars

A/N: Hi Babes! :D So uhh….me again with the never say never....this one's a love I've had for...20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex....

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I didn't tell @ken-dom this one was being shared, so she's probably gonna lose it....Sorry xD love you big much.

She’s still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I've written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+ (Not yet but like...it's getting there ok?)

I wasn't gonna share it today, but with the digital DP&W release I felt I should and @coggedcorset aggressively encouraged as they do <3

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3 

You sighed glancing down the length of the bar; Logan sat there, like he did every other night of the week. Silent and unmoving, save for occasionally reaching for the half empty bottle sat on the bar top. 

Usually he minded his own business, and no one else paid him any mind…usually…the bar wasn’t particularly busy tonight, and you were bored. 

You made your way down the bar on the opposite side, stopping where he sat. He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting yours for a brief second before they dropped again to examine a particularly interesting knick in the polished wood of the bar. 

“You should eat something” 

“No” he spoke into the bartop and you rolled your eyes

“Mmm good, just going to destroy your liver twice as fast tonight, got it” 

You reached for the near empty bottle and his hand snapped out with lightning speed, the hint of his metal claws poking out between his knuckles; his fingers warm against the back of your hand…too warm thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his system. 

“Leave it” he nearly growled. 

“What are you going to do, cut off my fingers?” you rolled your eyes pulling the bottle out of his reach. “You’re done” 

He snorted with a laugh “Am I?” claws retracting back under his skin 

You ignored him, dropping the bottle back in the well “The spare bed is still made up upstairs if you’re interested” 

“Are you giving me an option?” he quipped as you walked around the other end of the bar, going to lock the door and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’ 

“Sure,” you smiled sweetly and he cocked an eyebrow “The couch is a little small, but I guess curled up on the floor is an option too” 

He barked a laugh, louder than necessary, but given how much he had had to drink you were shocked he was coherent at all. 

You flipped off the lights and the bar was cloaked in darkness, moonlight streaming in through the door and windows, giving you enough light to navigate back to where Logan still sat. 

He sat up straighter as you came to stand over his shoulder, but made no move to stand. You wrapped an arm around his torso, draping a muscled arm around your shoulders as you heaved him to his feet; this hadn’t been the first time and sadly you didn’t think it would be the last either. The two of you had gotten into a bit of a routine since you had started working here regularly. He leaned heavily against your comparatively tiny frame as you grabbed his worn brown leather jacket with your free hand, draping it over your arm as you lead him to the narrow staircase, minding his feet, knowing full well that one stumble in his clunky work boots would send you both crashing to the bar floor and he was significantly harder to pick up from there. 

“I swear you only make me do this on night’s I wear heels” you muttered, using the wall to support yourself in the almost too narrow stairwell as you pulled him up with you.

“I can walk” he slurred 

Despite his declaration, his weight leaned heavier against you and as if to prove your point, he misjudged the next step, toe catching on the lip of the step, sending him careening forward, forcing you to catch yourself against the wall, fingernails digging into the flesh of his hip to keep him from smashing his perfectly straight teeth on the stairs. 

He grunted, catching himself on the wall on the other side without much success and you sighed as he righted himself. 

“You were saying?” 

“Shut up” he muttered as you reached the landing, wrenching the heavy wood door open that led to your tiny apartment. 

“You should really fix that” he mumbled as you dragged him into the dark room before flipping on the light and kicking the door closed with your foot

“I’ll get right on it” you sighed, finally letting go of the grip you’d had around his waist, causing him to stumble slightly as you reached to pull your heels off. “You know where your bed is” you yawned, draping his jacket over the nearest chair.

“My bed?” he repeated to the back of your head as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You turned only enough to look over your shoulder at him standing on surprisingly steady feet, the first three or four buttons of his plaid shirt undone and you had to force yourself to meet his eye. 

He’s drunk the little voice in the back of your mind whispered It would be unethical 

You snorted at your own inner monologue before answering him “Well, no one else spends as many nights here” 

This seemed to be answer enough for him as he sat with a heavy thump on the couch, bending to untie his boots before kicking them off, leaving them haphazardly strewn on the living room floor. 

You made your way down to the bathroom, closing the door most of the way behind you as you ran the hot water to wash your face and change. 

When you reemerged, you  found Logan sitting on the edge of the spare bed, leaned against the headboard, snoring softly. 

You giggled softly and seriously considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. 

“Logan,” you whispered, touching his arm gently, careful to keep clear of his hands. Nearly being impaled once when you startled him awake the first time he had spent the night was enough.

He hadn’t even stirred at your touch. 

You sighed “Any other night and you’d almost take my head off” you muttered

You grunted bending to lift his legs up on the bed and he mumbled something in his sleep as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. Pulling the comforter up around his shoulders you turned off the small lamp next to the bed, nearly jumping out of your skin hearing a slurred “Thanks” from where he laid.

“Just don’t puke on my bed” 

You heard him scoff with a laugh as you made your way to your own bed, drifting off to sleep almost as quickly as he had. 

***

You turned over in your sleep with a heavy sigh through your nose; a heaviness pressing on your mid-section. You blinked sleep from your eyes as you took a deep breath as you turned over, you jumped slightly when your nose nearly brushed against Logan’s as he slept. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed a second time, his arm still heavy across your middle as you studied his face in the dark. His face was weathered…not that you blamed him, you knew he’d been through the ringer before he ever graced a stool at the bar. Some he talked about, most he didn’t…you assumed. He was handsome still though, ruggedly so. You watched as his forehead creased with worry; he was dreaming. 

He dreamt a lot, or more accurately had nightmares a lot. You wondered if he thought the drinking helped; they seemed to be worse on the night’s he drank heavier…you had tried pointing that out once and nearly lost a limb because of it. Logan wasn’t the most…level headed man; although you could say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t ever hurt you…anymore.

You turned over to the best of your ability, still trapped under the dead weight of his arm. He hadn’t even noticed, just carried on mumbling incoherently in his sleep, jerking slightly. You reached with a hand to brush your thumb gently across his cheek and his features softened instantly as he relaxed under your touch. 

“Shhh” you cooed, feeling his fingers twitch slightly against the small of your back “It’s okay, you’re safe” you whispered, his arm instinctively squeezing tighter, pulling you closer. 

It was that exact moment that it occurred to you  that Logan was no longer wearing a shirt….or pants…

You pressed your lips together in a hard line, wanting nothing more than to shake him awake and immediately demand an explanation, but you didn’t. This hadn't been the first time you had woken up with Logan next to you…. although it was a first for him to be sparsely clothed. 

Instead, and in spite of yourself, you settled more comfortably against him, tucking your head under his chin and closed your eyes, letting the heat radiating from him lull you back to sleep.

***

The sun streamed in through the window far too early, and you cursed yourself for not remembering to close the curtains the night before. 

You tried to roll over on your back and were met with a wall of resistance. Very warm resistance. 

You shifted with a scoff, reaching to shove him. 

“God, get off me, you're so hot” you whined, trying in vain to move away. 

A grunt of response over your shoulder as Logan stirred awake. “Fuck” he growled, shielding his eyes from the light against your shoulder. 

“That's what you get for drinking half the bar” you quipped, immediately gasping with surprise as his teeth found purchase in that same shoulder and you twisted away, turning to face him. 

“Don’t bite me you weirdo” 

He smirked sleepily with a shrug “Didn't seem to mind it much last time”

“Last time doesn't count” you muttered and he snorted with a laugh

“Just because you say it doesn't count doesn't mean it didn't happen”

“Shut up” you snapped, attempting to pull yourself up out of bed, and failing; Logan's strong arm keeping you pinned against his chest. “You were drunk” 

“If memory serves, so were you” he whispered 

“Yeah well,” you shrugged against him “That’s the thing about memories isn’t it?” 

He sighed against your neck, his warm breath causing your skin to ripple with goosebumps

You closed your eyes and sighed as his fingertips toyed lazily with the fabric of your t-shirt “Logan” you breathed and he hummed questioningly against the hollow behind your ear

“Don’t,” you sighed heavily “W-we can’t” 

Another hum as you turned your head and the tip of his nose dragged along the line of your jaw.

“Logan…” you repeated; noses nearly touching at this point 

“Why not?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours as he spoke 

You could feel your whole body flush with heat as you swallowed hard; mustering up enough willpower to push him back gently by the shoulders; his brown eyes searching your face. 

“Because we said we wouldn’t, remember?” your voice was soft, but the words were shaky, you were on the verge of cracking and you had no doubt he knew it. You needed to move, needed to get out from under the delicious weight of his torso, needed to put space between you….

You cleared your throat and wriggled out from under his arm, throwing the blanket back as you clumsily got to your feet. 

“C’mon,” he coaxed, propped on an arm “We’re both adults” 

“Yes, exactly” you nodded in agreement as you turned away, pushing your hair back off your face “Adults who make informed sober decisions” 

“I prefer your drunken decisions” 

“You would” you scoffed “Get out of my bed”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Will you shut up about last time?!”  You snapped

“You’re bitchy in the morning” he mumbled climbing out of the bed on the other side. 

“That’s rich coming from you” you rolled your eyes in spite of facing away from him as you pulled on a pair of jeans from the night before.

You came around the end of the bed, pushing around him as you pulled open the drawer to your dresser, digging for a clean shirt before looking up at him “Turn around” 

He scrunched his nose slightly “Why?”

“What do you think this is, a peep show?” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before” 

“Oh my god” you rolled your eyes again and Logan just shrugged

“Well it isn’t” 

You sighed, not really having time to argue, you pulled your t-shirt over your head, dropping it on the floor at your feet. You looked up at Logan and he wasn’t looking back, you had been ready to give him shit until you noticed his eyes were fixed on your collarbone, and the ugly scar that disappeared under your bra strap. You pulled the clean shirt on, the scar covered underneath…at least most of the way; half an inch or so still poked out from under the deep v of your shirt. Logan’s eyes hadn’t moved. 

“It’s fine” you spoke softly, snapping him from his thoughts and he met your eye. His usual grumpy scowl was more of a pout. “It’s fine” you repeated 

He just grunted in response and you made to move around him to finish getting ready. “Everyone knows I shouldn’t be allowed around sharp objects” you joked with a gasp as he grabbed your wrist as you walked by, stopping you from going any further and turning you to face him. He towered over you, the man was unnaturally large…you often wondered how you managed to haul him up here multiple nights a week by yourself. 

He hadn’t pulled you against him, but he stood close…too close. 

The hand not holding your wrist slowly reached to push back the collar of your shirt, exposing more of your scar. Your free hand reached to close over his, keeping it in place. 

The room was quiet for a beat before you spoke again, neither of you moved. 

“That’s not why” you whispered; you were looking at him, but he was looking at the jagged raised skin across your collarbone. 

You curled your fingers around his hand still resting against your chest. “I figured you would have forgotten” your voice still soft 

His eyes met yours then, no hint of humor in his features. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled gently “I lived” 

“Barely” he finally spoke 

“Well that’s what I get for trying to wake Edward Scissorhands from a nightmare” 

He just glared 

“Come on grump,” you changed the subject turning toward the door “Put some clothes on, you owe me breakfast” 

“Owe you?” he repeated, letting you walk away 

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning to look over your shoulder as you stood in the doorway “And I know most places have a pretty lax dress code, but I don’t think yellow boxer briefs are gonna cut it” 

***

Despite having gone your separate ways after breakfast, Logan found his way back to his favourite bar stool by nine thirty. You watched him reach over the bar top and grab the bowl of peanuts you kept tucked underneath for when he inevitably showed his face. He had changed, you noticed, swapping the red flannel he’d had on this morning for a blue one. 

You handed the guy across from you his change as he blatantly looked down the front of your top and you fought the urge to deck him as he dropped a twenty on the bartop. 

“So..uh,” he started and you would bet it took every ounce of strength he had in him to meet your gaze “What time do you get off?” 

You laughed lightly taking the money off the bar and shook your head “No thanks” 

“What?” he pressed, “You got like a boyfriend or something?” 

“Or something” you smiled politely 

“Well he’s not here is he?” the guy tried again 

“Well,” you shrugged, scrunching your nose and glanced down the bar before looking back to him. 

“That guy?” his face twisting in disapproval as he looked down the bar at Logan who was finishing off his first round of peanuts. “You know who that is don’t you?” 

You raised your eyebrows, straightening your stance 

“He-”

“You can leave now” you cut him off “Thank you” 

“But-” he looked from you down to Logan and back at you 

“What can I say,” you smiled “I like ‘em sloppy” 

The guy opened his mouth to say something more and thought better of it, closing it again. 

“Wise choice” you rolled your eyes before turning on your heel and making your way down to the end of the bar where Logan sat. 

“Fancy meeting you here” you smiled setting his usual glass in front of him and refilling the empty bowl 

He took the glass, nearly draining it before putting it back down “You changed” 

You laughed lightly with a shrug, handing him the whiskey bottle. “This outfit gets me better tips” 

He looked up with a raised eyebrow as you gently tossed the twenty you’d just been given on the bar in front of him. “Doesn’t have pockets though, hold on to that for me, would you?” 

“What do I look like, a bank?” he grumbled 

“No,” you smirked “But I owe you” 

His eyes narrowed again as he studied your face “You’re giving me your tip money?” 

“No,” you said again 

“But you owe me?” he asked, lines in his forehead deepening 

You giggled, walking around the bar, intentionally walking too close to where he sat, brushing against his broad shoulder. You knew you were flirting with disaster, but you had started to regret not taking him up on his offer this morning….against your better judgment…and getting under Logan’s skin was so easy, sober or not. 

“Stop it” he warned 

You stopped mid stride, chest purposefully pressed against his shoulder. “What?” 

He glared and you smirked “You're so easy to rile” you teased, messing up his hair  “I thought it was nothing you haven't seen before”

“You wanna play this game?” He narrowed his eyes 

“Who's playing?” You leaned to whisper next to his ear. 

He growled and you giggled before walking away to make your rounds.

[quibbs126]

And this here is today’s attempts at drawing Transformers, specifically TF One

I had this idea when I started today, since I knew the faces and noses were giving me trouble yesterday, to try this paintbrush style. The logic in my brain was that the movie was made in 3D, so logistically a more lineless style should work better, right?

I do admit, I think that the lineless style works far better in terms of the eyes and noses being the right shape, but I also admit my lines are probably a bit too soft and I may need to darken them. As well as get something good for the actual thin lines, since the paint brush on its own feels too thick, even at the lowest size

And you know what, since we’re here, does anyone have any Procreate brushes they can suggest for this sort of style? Right now I’m just using Flat Brush, but I wonder if I should use something else

Anyways, so this canvas was supposed to be more D-16, but partway through I figured I should try someone else to draw as well, so I decided Orion, so we could have the yaoi

Honestly my big problem with Pax here is that I don’t have a good comprehensive reference for him, while I can get by just fine with D-16. These were about the best I could get, and that last one I only got because these other two weren’t cutting it

I need high quality references of these characters, or at least specifically their faces. And I’m gonna need even more if I plan to draw Megatron and Optimus as well

But yeah, Orion’s here, and I was also having trouble getting the correct colors for him, because I’m stupid and used to flat colors. D was pretty easy considering he’s just greys, and a yellow tinted grey works just fine there as a grey (though I do admit I’m struggling with his eye color), but I feel like blue tinted Orion looks too blue by comparison. But I don’t know how to give him his proper face coloring without it being the same shade as D-16

I feel like my words aren’t making sense. But just get that Orion colors are a struggle. And still are, because I still don’t think that other grey is the right color

Also Orion has a significantly more complicated helmet than D, so that’s fun

I really wasn’t planning on Orion taking up so much of the space, but I needed to actually practice how he looked so that I could draw him easier. I had numerous attempts at D-16 prior, I could sort of understand his look, but I was flailing in the dark on Orion and needed the practice

I think another problem is that I don’t make him wide enough. But sue me, my character designs usually don’t have their bodies that wide/their heads that small. I’m working on it

I capped off this canvas by just deciding to make a small doodle of Orion kissing D, since why not and also I was too lazy to think of anything else to add

Where do we go from here? I have no clue, but hopefully it’ll go good

[icarian-carrion]

Well, the cat’s out of the bag now - not that she can blame Rafael for letting a pet name slip when he just saw his girlfriend get re-articulated like a doll with a busted part. “I’m fine, babe. Feels a lot better.” Tisha says softly, which is technically true. “Not the best bedside manner I’ve ever seen in a doctor, but I can’t complain about the results.”

She can feel the world becoming steadier again, the nausea and pain ebbing like the nerves that can sound the warning have been burned away. Usually when that happens, she wonders how many more can be deadened before the last of her is obliterated - today there just isn’t time to think about it. “We need to keep moving. We’re so close, I can feel it.” She can feel it so keenly she can almost chew on it, thick and rubbery like medical tubing and twisting between her teeth like the tentacles of an octopus.

“When we get there, I’m going to do whatever I can to close the gate and cut off what’s coming through. It could get ugly, so you two need to be ready to run. That means whatever hatch, door, ladder, whatever it is that you see, you take it, up or down.” She never thought she would, but she feels a strange kinship with Colmilho in that moment. They’re the ones who are duty bound to see this through. “I’m counting on you to get each other out of here.”

Rafael's hand hovered over Tisha's shoulder, the sharp, cold smell of the damp stone walls pressing in from every side. Shadows pooled in the low, flickering light from his headlamp, and his face twisted with worry. "Only my own," he mumbled. He recalled the shoulder pop he'd done to himself, a half-forgotten agony, though now, the stakes were different, and his fingers trembled just above her skin. He tried to steady himself, to draw in a breath and force calm, but he hesitated a split second too long.

From the darkness, Colmilho stepped forward. "Move aside, hero, before you actually make it worse," he snapped, not waiting for Rafa to back away before he seized Tisha's arm with a practised, if rough, grip. Rafael looked as though he might protest, but the delegado didn't give either of them time to object. With one swift, brutal motion, he relocated the shoulder, his face devoid of any hint of kindness. "There," he muttered, voice dripping with mock annoyance. "At least one of us knows what they’re doing." He barely glanced at Tisha, his scowl an attempt to hide the faintest spark of concern for her or any of these idiots, as though tenderness was a flaw he couldn’t let slip.

When Colmilho stepped away, Nessa joined Tisha and her father. "This place feels familiar. I know nothing about it, but... it's like when you wake up and you can't remember your dream, but you have this... this... lembrança de um sentimento." Rafael nodded as though he was qualified to talk about sleep. "The feeling persists," he concluded, ignoring the delegado's disapproving huff. "Could this be where the passengers' minds are held captive?," Rafael was just muttering to himself while he looked Tisha over. "You're okay, meu furacão?" - Naturally Nessa had to scrunch up her nose.

[fortnightdjo]

Steddie 😈

Steve sucks his thumb to focus or to calm down and self regulate

Steve is walking back and forth in his room and he sucks on his thumb he knows it’ll mess up his teeth but he can’t help it. Eddie is supposed to come over sometime soon, and Steve is worrying about it because he had Eddie come over so he confess to him, but he got so distracted by his worrying and thumb sucking that he did realize what time it was, the front door downstairs unlocks and opens (he gave Eddie a spare key), Steve doesn’t realize it tho.

“Harrington~!” Eddie calls out in a sing song tone, the stairs creak as he comes up the stairs, Steve’s door is cracked open just enough to where Eddie can see Steve sucking his thumb and pacing around, Eddie finds it adorable. Eddie opens the door slowly, he clears his throat. Steve turns around and quickly takes his thumb out of his mouth.

“Ed! Heyy…” Steve says nervously

“Stevie. What are you doing?” Eddie smirks

“Nothing. Just waiting for you.” He wipes off his thumb on his pants

“You suck your thumb?” Eddie says in a knowing tone

“No! No I don’t” Steve quickly answers he doesn’t want Eddie to think he’s weirds or abnormal, even tho Eddie himself is weird and abnormal.

“Steve. Stevie. Steven. You’re fine.” Eddie walks closer to him

“…it’s weird I know. Just forget you saw that, please”

“Oh come on Harrington! Look at me, you seriously think I care that you do something weird? It’s cute. “

“It’s embarrassing!”

“You know what, I forget about it. You called me over here because you wanted to talk to me in person? Miss me that much Stevie?”

Steve sighs heavily. He runs his hands thru his hair.

“Uh yeah. Before I say it, just promise me you won’t be mad or freaked out….please”

“What it’s not like you have a crush on me or something?” Eddie says, he doesn’t mean it in a “I don’t want Steve to like me” he means it more like “PLEASE LIKE ME STEVE!” Way

Steve heart drops when he says that. He clears his throat. His breathing becomes heavy and his face becomes hot. He feels embarrassed, he knew he didn’t have a chance with Eddie.

“Oh… no! No… uhm I just. Uh.. was having problems with my car…yeah it’s making noises.” Steve blurts out, it’s the first thing that came to mind.

Eddie feels disappointed. “I’ll fix your car right up stevie! But you look way too nice just to tell me about your car problems, you got a date or something?”

“Uh no. Just what I put on today. So can you help me with my car? I need it for tomorrow because I’m supposed to take shit head to the arcade” Without thinking steve puts him thumb in between his teeth. He lies even more, he’s doing nothing tomorrow, well now he’s going to sulk and wallow in sorrow.

They go downstairs and to the front where Steve’s car is parked. Eddie pops the hood and starts to get to work.

“So uh what did you say was wrong with your car?” Eddie says, not in his usual happy cheerful tone but in a disappointed tone.

“The engine is making funny noises, like it’s loud weird noises.” Steve says he catches on to Eddie’s disappointed tone “Eddie are you alright?”

“Yeah? I’m fine Steve why?” He lies thru his teeth. They are both oblivious idiots.

Steve puts his thumb in mouth and shrugs.

“Dunno. You just sound…uh disappointed?” Steve says he looks at worried

Eddie smiles at Steve sucking his thumb, the image warms his heart.

“Stevie. I just don’t know why you would call me over at such an hour and looks so nice just for me to help with your car…over the phone you sounded nervous and….” The realization hits Eddie.

“Steve.”

Steve shys away.

“Oh Eddie I-. I’m sorry, I just…Eddie I really like you, like a lot. Uhm but I know now that you obviously don’t-“ Eddie cuts him off with a kiss.

“Steve I haven’t never wanted anymore more then I want you! What I said back there was complete self doubt please ignore that!” He hugs Steve.

Steve puts his thumb in between his teeth.

“You mean… you like me back!”

“I just kissed you Steve, of course I like you back!”

The end

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

THE RULE OF BEST FRIENDS PART 1-JOBE BELLINGHAM

Part.2

It was a quiet evening in Birmingham, and as usual, you had convinced your sister Elena to drop by the party downtown, hoping she’d have some fun. Elena wasn’t exactly the type to socialize easily, unlike you, but you managed to drag her with you. It was always a challenge for you: to make the evenings more lively for her and to let her know that sometimes letting go of control could be fun. Despite Elena’s introverted nature, she had invited her best friend, Jobe, to join you that night.

As soon as you arrive, you notice that Jobe seems a little uncomfortable, as if the party atmosphere is making him feel uncomfortable. You are used to seeing him like this: silent and with the elusive look, especially when it comes to you. But you never felt sorry for it, in fact, finding someone who doesn’t immediately engage in exuberant conversations is almost intriguing.

You decide to approach. "Hey, Jobe, always in 'shadow' mode?" You provoke him with a sneer smile.

He blushes a little, the eyes wander towards you before lowering. "" I’m not... really used to... to such lively parties."

"Moving? Does this look like moving? You have no idea what a real party means, man," you mock him, giving a slight push to his arm. He smiles, but remains silent, as always.

Then, without even realizing it, he starts looking at you differently, with a lost and admired look. You realize that he has the same attitude every time you are together, as if every word you say had a special weight for him. And somehow this little show of yours makes him more and more embarrassed.

Elena comes in and sighs, giving you a funny look. " Stop tormenting him, Y/N, it’s hard enough to have him here," he says, hinting at Jobe with a complicit smile.

"Torment him? But what, I’m just teaching him to have some fun," you reply, winking at Jobe.

Elena shakes her head, resigned. "You always have this mania of wanting to be the center of attention, Y/N."

"Someone has to be, right?" Reply with an ironic grin, before returning to look at Jobe. "But tell me, Jobe... what do you really think about these parties?"

Jobe seems to be taken by surprise by your direct question and swallows, then finally looks up at you. " It’s... not really my scene, but... well, I’m here to... be with you," she confesses, with a slight hesitation in her voice.

"Hmm, and can you?" you ask with an ironic tone, approaching slightly, almost to challenge him. "To be with us, I say."

Jobe can’t answer right away, he seems almost caught in your gaze, and at the end he just lowers his eyes, his shyness evident. " I try to..."

You’re about to press again, amused by his clumsiness, when Elena interrupts you. "Y/N, enough. You can’t always provoke him like that."

"What? I’m just chatting," she replies in an innocent tone, raising her hands in surrender. But then you turn back to Jobe, lowering your voice. "So, Jobe, is it so terrible to talk to me?"

He shakes his head frantically. "N-no, actually... it’s just... you... are a little intimidating."

Laugh fun. "Intimidating? Oh, this is new. Why, what’s scary?"

Jobe hesitates, biting his lip slightly, while Elena seems busy with her phone and leaves you alone for a moment. Jobe clears his voice, visibly nervous. "It’s not fear... It’s just that... well, you’re... different."

"Ah yes?" you tilt your head, staring at him with a curious air. "And how different, Jobe?"

Jobe seems stuck, unable to formulate a response. Finally, after a few seconds, she murmurs: "I can’t explain... but you’re the kind of person who... who... leaves a mark, here."

Your smile widens, and without turning away, you say to him: "Who knows, maybe it’s not so terrible to leave a mark, right?"

Jobe nodded weakly, the redness on his cheeks now evident. He can’t hide the attraction to you, even though he probably thinks you haven’t noticed. But deep down, every time you see that lost look in his eyes, it’s like I have a little confirmation. And you like to play with this awareness, enjoying the fact that, despite the rule between him and Elena, Jobe can not stop looking at you with those eyes full of admiration.

"And anyway, if you want to take a walk later, we could get out of the 'busy' environment for a moment. I think some air would be good for you," you suggest.

Jobe nods, and this time his smile seems more confident. "I would like to, yes... really."

So, with a last little smile of complicity, you cast a glance that seems to say: *We’ll see how far your courage goes, Jobe.*

The party continued, and Elena and Jobe had a chat with two of their old school friends. Jobe smiled and nodded, trying to follow the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere.

As soon as he saw you in the crowd, his attention turned completely to you. You were dancing, as always in the center of attention, with that charisma that came naturally to you. You laughed and moved lightly, and your gaze for a moment crossed that of Jobe. He held his breath, hearing that familiar fast heartbeat he felt whenever you were around.

One of his rules with Elena - not to see relatives - came back to him, a rule born just to avoid situations like the one he was in. A year earlier, during a small school party, someone had flipped a bottle during a game and eventually fate decided that Jobe should kiss you. He still remembered the blush that had invaded his face when your lips had touched hers, and how his heart literally jumped in his throat.

Since then, you had started to look at him with a little smile accomplice, almost challenging him to be less shy. Since that kiss, the rule had been established to avoid his friendship with Elena becoming complicated, but your temptation to challenge the limits was always evident.

Unable to restrain himself, Jobe watched you dancing, mesmerized by your movements. Noticing his gaze, you didn’t let the opportunity slip away. With a mischievous smirk, you approached slowly, maintaining eye contact. You danced with a ease that you knew would make him whiten, the way you moved your hips and laughed at each joke made his blush visibly increase.

Finally, you pass by him with a sneer smile. "Are you having fun, Jobe?"

He flushed even more, swallowing visibly. "S-yes... sure," she replied, trying to keep her voice still.

"Really? Then why do you keep looking at me as if I’m some kind of... vision?" you joke, tilting your head and watching her reaction.

He looks down, uncertain of how to answer. "I wasn’t... I wasn’t looking."

Laugh, enjoy his clumsiness. "Oh, of course not. Besides, why would you? I’m just your best friend’s sister, right?"

Jobe scratched his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah... just... just this."

But he can’t help looking at you again, and this time his eyes are shone with something beyond mere shyness. You notice it and you come a little closer, lowering your voice so that only he can hear you.

"You know, Jobe, you could relax a little. This famous rule is not carved in stone..." murmurs, hint at an intriguing smile.

Jobe remained silent, staring at the floor to hide his embarrassed smile that he could not hold back. "I don’t think... well, Elena not... you know..."

"Still with Elena?" you shake your head. "You’re ruining all fun for that crazy rule."

You go forward a split second, but then it stops, perhaps for fear of taking too big a step. "It’s not just the rule... It’s... It’s complicated."

"Complicated?" raise an eyebrow, enjoy. "You don’t seem like the complication type, Jobe."

He sighs, shaking his head. "It’s just... you’re different, Y/N. Every time you’re around... you make me feel..."

"Hear what?" Pressure, not letting him escape.

But just as he is about to answer you, Elena reappears, interrupting the moment of tension. "Y/N, all right?" asks, looking at you with a curious glance, as if he has an intuition.

Smile innocent. "I was just chatting with your friend here. But rest assured, I’m not going to break any rules," he replies with an ironic smile, giving a last look at Jobe, who looks down again, embarrassed.

As you walk away, you cannot help but feel his eyes upon you, knowing that you have planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

[amostimprobabledream]

Animal Attraction (Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/60500386

Good lord, how you hated office parties.

But here you were, in itchy tights, shoes that were hurting your feet, and glitter on your face. You’d worn the shoes because they matched the dress and the tights because you were paranoid that the dress might be too short – you hadn’t had time to try it on when you bought it in a blind panic, and exposing the lower half of your butt cheeks to your boss would be a huge error on your part. …Or possibly lead to a promotion, depending on his proclivities. But not a risk you’re willing to run.

You’re now at the point where the festivities have drained you of your social battery and the artificial good cheer is grating on your nerves. All you want to do is go home, get comfortable and fling your bra off.

“Hey, so, I think I’m gonna…” you say to Chie, someone you’ve always gotten along with.

“Whaaat? You’re not leaving already, are you?” Chie asks, widening her big doe eyes – you roll yours playfully in response, you’ve put off leaving once already because she pulled out that weapon, but it won’t work on you twice.

“Yeah, I’m done. I can only take so much of this goddamn music.” You laugh, knocking back the last of your drink. Hey, at least those were free. “I’ll message when I get home, okay?”

Chie gives a comedic pout of defeat, the flashing lights shining on her lipgloss, and she holds out her arms.

“Fiiine, better not forget!”

You shake your head as you give her a hug – she’s the one who usually forget to text, not you, but you can’t be bothered to raise that point now, her expensive Jimmy Choo perfume enveloping you – you keep meaning to ask her which specific perfume it is-

“Aww, no hugs for me?”

Fuck.

You stiffen in annoyance as you release Chie – Keiji is another co-worker of yours and since he “broke up” with his ex, he’s been hovering around you and some of the other women in the office like a wasp at a picnic.

“Uh-“ you say, trying to think of a way to tell him to fuck off in a manner that won’t get you hauled straight down to HR. But you’re a little drink and your brain is working without all cylinders firing, so before you can do much else, Kenji is hugging you as well and you grunt in displeasure – did he fucking bathe in his cheap-ass aftershave?

“So, I’ll see you later!” you say to Chie, accidentally-on-purpose jamming the heel of your heeled boot down onto Kenji’s big toe and he grunts and loosens his grip and you slither away from him like an eel.

“Prick.” You snarl under your breath as you stomp towards the lobby, nearly making it outside before you have to double back for your coat.

The night air knocks you for a loop and for a second the whole world seems to waver before your eyes. You stand there for a second, waiting for your body to adjust to the sudden change, head tilted up at the sky, a dark blue studded with distant stars and the misty halo of the moon, when out of the corner of your eye you spot something that makes the breath catch in your throat.

A figure leans against the building across the road from you, arms folded, staring you down with eyes so blue they almost seem to glow in the dim.

“Gri- what- how did you know I’d be here?” you splutter intelligently, staring at him.

He sneers and pushes off the wall, stalking up to you with his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket, his shadow falling across your frame.

“Che. You think you’re hard to find?” he asks, an arrogant tilt to his head as he looks down at you. “I’d know your scent anywhere.”

His eyes slide up and down your frame and a leer pulls at his lips, his eyes narrowing a fraction. You belatedly realise you forgot to do up your coat, in such a rush to escape Kenji and his grasping arms you’d stumbled outside with it clumsily pulled on, so your sparkly little party dress that’s showing plenty of boob is on clear display.

“Nice.” Is Grimmjow’s concise assessment of your outfit as he takes another step close to you, and you’re rooted to the spot as you gaze up at him. “Easy access.”

Your mouth falls open at his words – you should be used to his audacity by now but he still manages to find ways to surprise you - but before indignation has a chance to formulate a biting retort, he’s pulling you in impatiently, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, searing hot in the cold outdoors.

You can’t prevent the little moan that leaves you – rough and brutal he may be, but damn does he know how to use that mouth.

Grimmjow isn’t content with only kissing your lips either – whenever he tracked you down like this, he’d always leave you flushed and covered in marks, bites and hickeys all over your neck and collarbones, finger marks on your wrists and thighs, handprints littering your ass…you always looked like you’ve been ravished by a wild beast by the time he’s done with you.

Which, to be honest, isn’t exactly wrong…

Suddenly, though, Grimmjow pauses in his important task of marking you up, his face inches away from your throat, and nervousness swirls through your bloodstream.

“Um, Grimmjow?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he grabs your head to hold you still and breathes in deeply. His scowl deepens.

“Wha-at?” you say in a slight whine, his expression scaring you slightly. When he goes quiet, it tends to mean things have gotten serious.

“You stink.” Grimmjow responds bluntly, still nosing at your neck. “You don’t smell like you. You smell like…”

His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl and your stomach lurches – something about how inhuman he looks with that bone fragment on his cheek sends a primal warning signal in your brain urging you to flee, even if you know you’d only get as far as he allowed you to. He does so love the thrill of the hunt.

Fuck.

“It’s – some guy just hugged me out of nowhere before I left, I didn’t-“ you babble immediately, even though you know you didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have to explain yourself, but the silence is deafening and you find yourself talking just to fill it.

Grimmjow is hardly mollified by your rambling and in a blur, suddenly the darkness of a nearby alleyway engulfs you. Your back meets hard brick and he’d holding you up off the ground with ease by your hips, your entire body weight meaning nothing to him.

“Yeah?” he growls.

He seems personally offended and sets about correcting your little faux pas right then and there. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of your throat, making you cry out, the noise loud in the cool darkness. Grimmjow grins with approval as he spots the little dots of blood welling in the indents of his fangs.

“Fuck, that hurt!” you complain, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, which has all the effect of smacking a wall.

“Good.” He says, licking at the blood with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, holding eye contact with you as he does it, and you feel your face turn hot, well acquainted with exactly what that tongue can do.

“You fucking- mmm~“

Your words are drowned out by more kissing – all your lipstick and gloss will be gone by the time he’s done, Grimmjow tends to treat any flavouring you put on your lips as a topping to his favourite dessert.

Grimmjow leans forward and uses his mouth to tug your bra down, your tits pushed out in front of his face, and he wastes no time in lapping at them, nipping at the sensitive undersides of your breasts, apparently determined to leave as much markings as he possibly can over as much of your flesh as he can reach. His wicked tongue circles your nipples, teasing them until you're pulling on his wild mane of blue hair. He chuffs in approval at the sting in his scalp, leering up at you. He likes it rough when you fuck, even though there’s not much you can do to hurt him.

"Someone's impatient." he drawls, quirking an eyebrow.

"Stop teasing me." you complain, squirming against him, though you’re going nowhere and his fingers. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"

"Brat." he hisses at you, and he pulls you against him with one strong arm around your waist, cradling your body to him like a ragdoll, and lands a sharp smack to your ass that makes you yelp. He likes the sound so much that he does it again on the other cheek, laughing when your whole body jolts.

He likes it when you're a brat, though, because he still does as you requested, his tongue circling your sensitive nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure through you, though like with most things he does, he’s just a little too rough, leaving them throbbing before he pulls his mouth away to focus his attention on the other breast. He leaves little sharp nips to your flesh too, enjoying the soft squeaks it drives from your mouth – you’re so intoxicatingly sensitive, he’d play with your tits all day long if he could.

“Grimmjow, mm…” you hiss, and he smirks as a new scent reaches his nose – he knows your body so well he can smell it when you’re aroused, like a shark can scent blood from miles away. A sense of prideful satisfaction courses through him at how quickly he was able to make you wet, from something so simple, so easy as to just give your pretty tits some attention.

Of course, much as he loves them, they’re not the main thing he’s after.

He's hard already, his length straining against his fly, and he grins and slowly unzips with one hand, giving you a little show as your eyes follow the smooth movement of his hand, a sliver of his black boxers visible, before they’re pulled down too. Your stomach does a little flip as he palms his cock, a smug grin on his face.

“Like what you see, don’t you?” he says, amused. “Look what your slutty little dress has done to me.”

“It’s not slutty, it’s fun!” you protest, mortified he thinks you purposefully wore a slutty dress to a work event, though he isn’t exactly a good measuring stick for that - Grimmjow tends to find any clothing of yours that shows off your flesh to be provocative – you once wore a pair of shorts, not even hotpants or Daisy dukes, just a cute little cotton pair you have for the summer, and innocently walked past him and he responded by pouncing on you and fucking you until you could barely walk, let alone leave the house in them.

“Oh yeah? Then let’s have fun.” He leers at you and you have to admit you walked right into that one.

Azure eyes flick up and down your attire for a second, assessing the situation, before he simply grabs your tights and wrenches them apart, the sound of fabric tearing loud in the quiet and revealing your bare legs to the cold as you gasp in surprise. He tugs your panties impatiently aside, his fingers brushing up against your soaked core, teasing at your clit with a sinister smirk.

"Grimmjow, no, not here-!" you whine in protest, and he laughs cruelly.

"Yes, here," he replied, relishing in your embarrassment, adjusting your position and nudging his way between your legs, letting you sink onto the blunt head of his cock, and you groan as he lets you feel every inch of it bullying its way into your soaked cunt. "Unless you'd prefer I take you inside and fuck you in front of everyone?"

Your eyes fly open with fear, because you know it's no empty threat- Grimmjow cares nothing for social conventions, especially not the ridiculous confining rules humans go by. No doubt he'd love to bend you over in front of all your colleagues and make it very clear you were not on the dating market. You getting fired wouldn't be of much concern to him either - he'd see it as a win, getting to keep you all to himself and fuck you at his leisure.

"No, no, don't even think about it-!" you hiss at him, but you can't bite back the groan of pleasure as his hard cock brushes up against your sweetspot, feeling almost burning hot inside you with the cold air nipping at your thighs.

"Then shut up and take it like a good girl."

Not that he gives you much of a choice in the matter, but Grimmjow likes to watch you turn into a needy, whining, moaning mess beneath him, so he's never been stingy with your pleasure. He watches with rapt attention as he lifts you up and down off his cock like you're nothing more than his little personal fucktoy, his to move and manhandle as he sees fit. And yet, it feels so fucking good, to surrender yourself to the base pleasures after spending all day performing for other people.

He crushes his chest to yours, pinning you against the alleyway wall like a butterfly to a board, and your legs wrap around his waist without any further prompting, the heels of your boots kicking weakly against the leather of his jacket.

He fucks you rough and slow and deep, laughing harshly as a myriad of emotions flash across your face, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and sweat beading your forehead, giving your skin a sheen that’s more like a glow, something he loves to see on you. You look amazing in the moonlight, the silver glow falling across your skin like water, not like the garish brightness of the lights inside. The sparkling sequins on your dress flash in the moonlight as he bounces you up and down on the length of his cock, and you can feel heat engulfing you, you’re too hot in your coat now, your body throbbing with pleasure and damp with sweat. The lingering, acidic sting of any cologne that might have transferred onto you is long gone, replaced with the unmistakable musk of sex.

“That’s right – you’re mine.” He snarls at you, snapping his hips up and driving a keening noise from your throat – before you met Grimmjow you didn’t even know you could make sounds like this, you weren’t even particularly vocal in the bedroom, but he loved listening to you plead and gasp and lose yourself in the moment, so he’d keep going until he heard what he wanted to hear. “These tits are mine , this ass is mine and this pussy is mine. I makin’ myself clear?”

“Oh, fuck- yes-“ you groan, head swimming with booze and pleasure both, despite the back of your skull knocking against the bricks with every thrust, like a little drumbeat.

“Say it.” He snarls. “Or you don’t get to come.”

You whine in protest, but he rams his cock deep into you and your mouth drops open like a trapdoor, your voice sounding strangulated as you utter the words; “Yours, yours, ‘m all yours, Grimmjow, don’t stop-"

Raucously laughter greets your ears and he drops you down a couple of inches so he can fuck you even deeper and your vision fuzzes at he hits just right-

“Grimmjow, yes, fuck, right there, right there-“ you chant, you can vaguely hear your own voice echoing back at you in the alleyway but you’re too blinded with lust to give a fuck anymore, and Grimmjow nips your ear in approval, obliging you by pounding into you at a relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt. You smell fucking incredible, like you but dialled up to a hundred, and with his own scent intertwined with it, he could get high off how good you smell right now.

“Thassit, good girl, good little slut.” He pants against your ear. “Nobody else fucks you just right, huh? Only me.”

“Only you, mmmh~”

Your thighs clench around him and he can feel you come, feel your walls clenching around his dick, your body trembling with the force of it. You muffle a cry of ecstasy against his shoulder, but he can hear you perfectly fine and holds you still, watching the look cross your features, panting and heavy-lidded and satisfied. It doesn’t take him too long to come after you do, and you can do nothing but take it as you feel him filling you up, your cunt still throbbing with aftershocks.

“Th-that…” you say, but the sentence fails to form, like a lightbulb sparking a few times before the fuse pops.

As the rushing sound in your ears begins to fade and the noise of your heavy breaths begin to die down – Grimmjow is barely winded, damn him, suddenly other sensations you’d blocked out in the throes of your impending orgasm. The uncomfortable, stifling heat of your coat, how your feet feel too tightly encase in your shoes, the roughness of the brick wall, Grimmjow’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand squeezing your ass…

And then, you hear someone saying your name, absolutely aghast, and you don't need to turn your head to see Kenji's shocked expression.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, unable to think of anything else to sum up the situation.

Grimmjow, unbothered and in fact able to hear the clumsy human dipshit approaching a mile off, turns his head, looking down at the other man from his superior height like Kenji is no more than an insect he'd dearly love to squash. Then a smug, sinister grin splits across his face.

"She's busy." Grimmjow says, his fingers tightening around your flesh possessively, using his body to shield your debauched form from Kenji’s eyes – not so much out of modesty but more refusal to let the little asshole see even a glimpse of your perfect flesh, he won’t allow you to be tainted by having some nobody’s eyes on you. “And you ever put your fucking greasy hands on her again it’ll be the last time you have hands.”

Kenji stutters, not even saying words, just meaningless syllables, looking like a scared puppy, and he turns tail and flees. You whine in embarrassment, clutching Grimmjow’s jacket.

“He saw me!” He could get me busted for…public indecency!” you say, even though technically you were somewhat out of sight – Kenji really ought to exercise a bit more caution before he goes poking about in dark paths.

“I’ll push him into traffic.” Grimmjow offers, pushing your damp hair off your forehead and pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead – he only does stuff like this in his relaxed post-coital state, so you’ve learned to treasure them. “Make it look like an accident.”

He probably isn’t joking, but you chuckle anyway and give your head a fond shake.

“Let’s go home and I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.” he grunts, hitching you up a little higher, one arm around your waist, using the other to tuck himself back into his jeans. You try to right the front of your dress, though there’s no saving your tights, they’re naught but tattered rags on your legs now. “We’ve got a long night ahead anyway.”

Your eyes pop open wide and you look up at him, nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“Wh…what’d you say?” you ask, and Grimmjow cocks his head.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” Grimmjow says casually, grinning at the look on your face. “Heh. You call that bullshit in there a party, sweetheart? I’ll show you a real fuckin’ party.”

[iwahajii]

breaking the boundaries

dares and unrequited love should never be mixed with alcohol.

tags: fluff, kind of sexy, unrequited, pining, mutual feelings, a tiny bit of angst

It was the stupid, stupid dare. Iwaizumi thinks as he watches you make your way towards the dance floor, right in the middle of the crowd. The flashing lights make it hard to see clearly, but he tried his best to focus his eyes on you.

You don’t have to do it, he tried telling you a while ago but you weren’t listening, already stubborn and tipsy to be your usual rational self.

They were only teasing, the same as they always did with the two of you. He wondered what reason Makki had to push your buttons tonight, more so than he ever did in the past. The culprits, Oikawa and Hanamaki, already scurried away, following right after you in the dance floor. Mattsun who didn’t join in the teasing stayed in the booth with him, drinking and smoking, but Iwaizumi knew that despite his silence, he was just as invested in this dare as the other two. His smirk behind his glass was the only hint Iwaizumi needed to confirm his suspicion.

He was an hour late to your get-together and by the time he arrived, Hanamaki was already drunk, Oikawa not too far behind and you trailing off the other two. Iwaizumi could only sigh as he slid on your booth, taking the empty seat beside you.

“Remember when you confessed to Iwa-chan in high school?” Oikawa blurts out of nowhere and Iwaizumi knew he needed a drink fast.

“Oikawa,” he warns.

You groaned, but Iwaizumi could see you laugh slightly. “Oh god. Please, don’t remind me.”

Oikawa cackles and high-fived Makki.

“That was horrible, wasn’t it?” You asked, turning to Iwaizumi for the first time that night but before he could reply, you continued. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now these idiots won’t let me live it down.”

I shouldn’t have done that.

Iwaizumi felt a twinge in his heart upon hearing those words, but he numbed it down by drinking his glass of rum.

“They’re idiots,” he consoles.

The memory of that time flashed in his mind. It’s scary how vivid he can remember it, how you looked back then, how you said the words he wanted to scream at the world, and how he had to break both of your hearts because he was going to UCLA.

“At least we’re still friends,” you declared. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

You turned to him again, a soft grin on your lips as you bumped your shoulder to his. The brief touch sent a wave of electricity down to his toes, but he couldn’t dwell on it because Makki started running his mouth again.

“Well, if all’s well that ends well, I think you’d be up for a dare,” he mused.

“And what do I get if I win?” You challenge, already caught with his bait.

“Let’s see,” Oikawa hums. “It has to be what you really, really want. How about if… we never talk about your confession to Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi watches you pause, clearly surprised at the reward. The memory of that time was like a bane to your existence, used by the trio to tease and blackmail you at times.

“What’s the dare?”

“Nope. You have to say yes first before we tell you what it is,” Makki says.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Deal.”

He turned to look at you, taken aback by your decision. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“If it means we can all move forward from my dark history, I’d take it,” you answer. Looking at Oikawa, you asked, “What do I do?”

“I dare you to hook up with someone tonight.”

There was silence for a while and Oikawa spent the whole time looking at you with challenge in his eyes but you weren’t backing down.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“Don’t be stupid,” he tells you but you were already shrugging off your cardigan, revealing the dress you were wearing.

“Here,” Makki says as he slides a shot of vodka in front of you. “So you don’t get scared.” He teased, chuckling as you shot it back.

“I’m no coward,” you haughtily say before standing up and Iwaizumi’s breath gets caught in his throat as he sees your clothes completely for the first time that night.

The only problem with the dress was that it was an inch shy of being indecent and it hugged all the right places and you looked good-hot, gorgeous, amazing, but Iwaizumi had to snap out of it because you were friends.

He was the one who said those words six years ago.

When you asked him to stand so you can get out of the booth, everything in him wanted to protest, wanted to hide you away from everyone so no one can see you in that dress, but he willed himself to stand and make way for you.

He knew then he was fucked.

Iwaizumi feels himself panic when he loses sight of you from the crowd. His panic turns to something… bitter and green as he watches a stranger whisper close to your ear and you laughed.

Fuck.

Forcing his eyes away, he refilled his glass and downed the whole thing before closing his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine now, could feel the dull, heavy pounding in his head, probably because he’s still adjusting from the difference in time zones.

“If it means anything to you, she rejected me,” he hears Matsukawa say.

Slowly, Iwaizumi opened his eyes to look at his friend. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand questions flooding his brain but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Why? Why are you telling me this? You liked her? How could you?

His last thought made him laugh. Iwaizumi reached for his empty glass, shaking his head as he laughed at himself and how much of a hypocrite he is. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I ran away.”

Matsukawa sighed and leaned back in his seat. “We all know she would’ve waited.”

“I couldn’t do that,” he counters. “I would never make it to UCLA if I accepted her confession back then and she would never forgive me if I stayed.”

It was a confession Iwaizumi never told anyone. He wanted to bring it with him to his grave, his biggest what if and his greatest regret, but it was freeing to say it out loud. He could feel the weight off of his chest lessen now that his secret is shared with one trusted soul.

He thought about how he lived off of your encouragement and support during his stay abroad, finding comfort in your messages despite how seldom they came with how busy you both were. He was worried at first but it didn’t become awkward between the two of you given what happened, probably because of the physical distance.

He wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you.

“She’s still in love with you,” Mattsun says.

Iwaizumi watches as Matsukawa raises his middle finger, mocking whoever he was looking at and Iwaizumi follows his line of sight, landing on you and the stranger from before.

Upon seeing Matsukawa flip you off, you threw your head back and laughed.

Iwaizumi watched as your head meets the stranger’s chest and you laughed again at whatever he whispered in your ear. He could see your bodies sway together, moving in unison as the man slides a hand to your waist.

It honestly felt like his heart is being smashed to pieces inside his chest.

Your eyes turn to Iwaizumi, and you held his gaze for a second too long before turning away fast.

Leaning back in his seat, he thought about the what ifs and could haves between the two of you. He loved you. Loves you. Always. What if he accepted your confession, would you survive the long distance? What if he didn’t go to UCLA and went to Tokyo University with you instead, will the two of you be happy? Time was never on his side then, but will it be now? If he risks it all now, will you accept him?

“Shit!”

The loud curse from Matsukawa interrupted his pity party. Raising his head, he turned to see what Matsukawa was looking at and his eyes landed on you arguing with the man you were just dancing with, more like grinding with, he bitterly added, seconds ago.

Iwaizumi bolted out of his seat and walked right into the pool of sweaty bodies faster than you could blink, his eyes never leaving you as you continue to argue with the stranger.

“I told you a million fucking times not to touch me,” he heard you shout just as he reached the circle you were now making in the middle of the dance floor.

The man shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “You were practically begging for me to touch you. You kept on sticking your ass whe-“

Screams erupted at the same time Iwaizumi feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm. He was breathing hard, his body taut as a wire because of the sudden anger raging inside him. Whatever the man was supposed to say, no one will ever know because Iwaizumi broke his nose before he could utter another word. He watched as the man clutched his bleeding nose while groaning pitifully on the floor.

“Fucking idiot!” He heard you say before he felt you pull him, dragging him away before he could contemplate inflicting further physical harm.

As the two of you passed the exit of the club, you were on his face yelling at him. “What the hell were you thinking?! Someone could’ve recognized you!”

He could hear you speak, rambling on and on about how much of an idiot he was but all he could think about was that man’s hands on you and before he could stop himself, pulled you to him and placed his hands on your waist.

At this distance, you’re wrapped up on his cologne and combined with the alcohol, the only thing on your mind is to take it all in, to breathe in his scent and to bask in his touch. His hands were larger, firmer and warmer than the stranger’s hands. And they felt perfect there, on your waist, meant to never touch anyone else’s.

But reality hits you like a truck and you pushed Iwaizumi away.

It was like a punch to his stomach and it left him breathless, reeling from the tangle of emotions he was feeling. He knows he’s scared shitless right now. Scared of letting himself be this vulnerable, scared of the fact that maybe he’s too late but what he doesn’t want to even think about was the possibility of losing you in the aftermath of whatever is going on between you two.

“We need to talk,” he tells you.

He tentatively reached for your arm, afraid that you’d run away again.

When you turned to look at him with red, glassy eyes, Iwaizumi could only take a shaky breath before running a hand through his hair.

Words were flooding his brain in that moment, each word fighting over the other to be said first, but he was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get the words out so he let instinct take over and crashed his lips to yours.

The first touch was light, tentative and scared, with his hand cradling your cheek as seconds passed, the two of you stuck in a limbo of unsaid words and restrained emotions. He could feel the knot in his stomach disappear when you didn’t push him away, and feeling a dose of courage fill his veins, pulls you closer with his hand on your back as he angled your face to deepen the kiss.

It was exhilarating and he felt braver, bolder because you were kissing him back with the same energy, the same hunger he felt, your lips matching his every move. He gasped when he felt you tug on his hair, and you used this as an opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth.

Sweet fucking Jesus, Iwaizumi thought. He could feel the goosebumps in his skin as he trembled at the sensation of your mouth. You are the sweetest thing he ever tasted and the tinge of bitterness he could taste from the alcohol was just as addicting.

Iwaizumi knew this kiss was far from romantic, not at all what he imagined he’d do if he would ever be given the chance to kiss you but it was perfect. It was passionate and desperate, exactly how he feels in that moment, exactly how he feels about you. He never wanted to stop, he wanted time to stop, freezing the two of you in that moment but you jumped away from him when a car horn blasted beside you.

“You getting in or not?” the cab driver yelled from inside the car.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You were breathing heavily, hair disheveled from the way Iwaizumi was weaving his hand through it during the kiss and you were looking at him with the same heat, the same hunger pooling in his own stomach.

Before you could protest, Iwaizumi pulls you to get inside the car with him following closely. He rattles off his address to the driver as the taxi drives away from the curb.

He watches you fidget in your seat, your hand raised as you bit your nails but he took your hand and entwined your fingers with his to stop you.

There was only silence between the two of you during the car ride but he knew you were as restless as he was, heat prickling under the skin and eager to touch once again.

The two of you dashed inside the building and the elevator doors just closed when Iwaizumi pins you to the wall, his lips crashing into yours once again in another intoxicating kiss. Both of your hands are now buried in his hair, pushing and tugging as you kissed him back. His hands are everywhere, touching and pulling you closer and closer to eradicate any space between you.

Thank heavens there was no one else in the elevator.

As the box slowed to a stop, Iwaizumi practically carried you out as he led the two of you towards his door. It took him four tries to open the door because he was so distracted with you kissing his jaw.

When he got it to open, he drags you inside and kicked it close. Iwaizumi expertly maneuvers the two of you around his house all while keeping you close to him the whole time.

You feel the air whoosh out of your lungs when he throws you on his bed, him quickly chasing your lips once again as he joins you in bed.

There were no thoughts in your head at that point, all your senses zeroed in on him as you bask in the feel of his weight on you, a guttural moan escaping your lips when his hips met yours.

And that’s when Iwaizumi shuddered as alarm bells rang in his head.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

It’s not as though he had it all planned out with roses and candles nor was he particular with details, but this is wrong. You’re drunk and he’ll be damned if he took advantage of that.

“We should stop.”

“What? Why?” You asked, hands still roaming on his back and he shivered when you kissed his jaw. “It feels good.”

He definitely did not have to hear that. It took all of his willpower to control himself and not kiss you again when your lips are busy leaving trails on his neck. He pushed himself up to look at you, definitely also a mistake because seeing you on his bed, your hair disheveled, cheeks red and lips swollen, something inside him snapped and he mentally debated whether he was a masochist for doing this to himself.

What broke him out of his trance was you suddenly sobbing, face scrunched up as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Shit. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” He frantically asked.

“You’re an idiot!” you wailed as you sat up, hands furiously rubbing on your cheeks. “I did everything to make you like me and now you don’t even want to touch me because-because I don’t know why! I hate you, you insensitive gorilla!”

Iwaizumi was dumbfounded at your words. He knew you liked him back in high school but he didn’t think you’d keep your feelings for him even after he rejected you. He knew how stupid it was to let the love of his life go but he didn’t want to put the two of you in jeopardy because of his plans.

You were trying to punch him now, your fists clenched but all they were doing was thumped on his chest and even though you were already snotty and tear-stained, his heart still thrashed in his chest, screaming that you are the most beautiful person in the world.

He would’ve kissed you then, except you cut his train of thought with “I think I’m going to be sick” before proceeding to puke all over yourself and into the duvet.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The next morning, you get woken up by the loud ringing of your phone and you swiped at it, knowing that the familiar tone is dedicated to Oikawa and he probably has some gossip or whatever to be calling you this early in the morning.

Cheers and laughters erupted from the speaker and you squint at the bright screen, finding the trio with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi groggily mumbles behind you, before pressing the red button and throwing your phone down to the floor.

Deciding to continue sleeping, you closed your eyes and pulled the soft covers up to your chin. The arm on your waist felt warm as it pulled you closer to a solid chest behind you-

Wait.

Behind you?

Arm on your waist?

Iwaizumi?

The scream that left your lungs can probably go down in the history of screams as you scrambled out of bed. You could feel your heart hammering on your chest and when your eyes landed on Iwaizumi’s tan skinned chest, the scream you were about to let out got stuck on your throat. When you met his eyes, he looked bored, grumpy and sleepy all at the same time.

“Hajime?!”

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 5)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It has been some time, and some of this fic has been sitting on my hard drive waiting for attention since May (wow) but tonight I finally started writing more of this. Writing muscles are still a bit rusty, but fortunately I know mostly where this is going. There is more written so hopefully I can post that soon, too.

I also feel that some fo this might be a bit familiar as there have been a lot of WIP Wednesdays since May and I have the vague feeling I posted some of this already, but there is new stuff here as well.

This one continues to be @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps' fault :D

@onereyofstarlight has been her usual amazing self, even rereading this whole thing from the beginning and helping me out with some of her specialities as well :D Thank you so much for your wonderfulness :D

This is Alexander Sweetapple so the fic is m/m. If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. Though I will admit, there is very little of that in this bit as Scotty is the one who is having a hard time this time :D

As always, so many thanks to Thunderfam for being the amazing kind fandom it is ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Being ever so competitive, all the Tracy brothers knew how to get to any part of the villa in the shortest possible time.

Gordon availed himself of that fact the moment John called him.

He had been putting on his swim trunks ready for his morning foray in the pool. Moments later saw him leaping a Lego volcanic island and landing smoothly enough amongst the bricks to slide to Alex’s side.

“What happened?”

Alex had laid Scott in the recovery position. “He has a fever.”

Gordon ran through vitals without thought.

Scott groaned and attempted to shove him away.

“Yo, Scooter, you’re on the floor clocking a temperature somewhere in the hundreds. Give yourself a break.”

His brother mumbled something and tried to roll over and get up.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gordon grabbed him as Alex scuttled out of the way. “You are staying put until Grandma gets here.”

As if summoned by her callsign, their grandmother hurried into the room. “Scott, honey, what happened?” She stepped lightly over the Lego scattered across the floor and knelt down beside her grandson.

“I’m’kay, Granma.” Scott pushed himself into a sitting position.

Gordon growled at him, but placed a hand on his back, not convinced he wouldn’t fall over again.

“Looks like you’ve picked up Virgil’s flu, honey.”

Scott swore.

“Gordon, please find us a hoverstretcher.”

And that was how Gordon found himself dragging an obstinate and complaining, cranky big brother up to the infirmary and tucking him into a bed. The protests were of legendary proportions until Grandma brought them to a firm halt.

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got resting to do.” She switched off the scanner and turned to put it away.

“Gordon, stop fussing!” And yes, his hands were swiped at.

He took a step back. “Fine, oh great Commander, tuck yourself in.”

And there it was, his feverish and ill brother trying to be big brother but running out of resources and struggling to hold himself up. Wet, blue eyes attempting stoicism and failing. Damnit, Scott, why do you do this?!

“International Rescue, we have a situation.” John popped up by the bed.

Oh, for the love of-!

Scott sat up, ramrod straight in the bed. “Go ahead, John.”

“We’ve got a cargo freighter foundering off the Great Barrier Reef.”

Gordon exploded. “What?! How the hell did they even get near it? Those are sanctuary waters!” Goddamnit! The remains of the Great Barrier Reef were a World Heritage Treasure. The Supreme Barrier Reef was an attempt to save the ecological system. What little was left of the actual reef off the coast of Australia was ever so precious. How the hell had they ended up in those waters at all?

John, as usual, was calm, but his expression said everything. “Investigating as we speak.” In other words, both he and Eos were out for blood.

Gordon let out a breath. Damn it was good to have a family to depend on.

“Thunderbird Two and Four responding. Get Alan down here. I need transport.”

“Gordon!”

He turned to his beloved eldest brother who was radiating heat like a blast furnace. “Alan and I have this, Commander. You’re staying in bed.” Moving towards the door, he almost collided with Alex. Stumbling, he gestured with a firm finger at Scott. “Make sure he stays put.”

Gordon tore out of the room at a run.

He had a reef, and possibly a few people, to save.

-o-o-o-

It had all happened so fast.

And Alex had no idea what he should be doing right now. He stood beside the door, not sure what to do with his hands, feet, or any body part really.

From the moment he caught Scott, events had just happened around him. The Tracy family responded smoothly and well-practised and before he knew it, Gordon was out the door, and Alex was left in the infirmary with a weak but literally vibrating Mr Tracy.

Mrs Tracy had looked at her watch and cursed. A firm finger and quiet word with the bed ridden man and she was hurrying out the door as fast as her grandchildren had moments before.

But she did brush her fingertips across Alex’s shoulder as she passed, catching his eyes enough to reinforce Gordon’s wish to keep Mr Tracy where he was.

How the hell was he going to do that?

In the distance, Alex heard the roar of Thunderbird Two as she launched from the Island.

Virgil was not going to be happy.

He let out a breath. That’s where he should be now. Virgil would be clambering out of bed. There was no way he would not respond to that sound.

A rustle of sheets and Mr Tracy was sitting upright again. “Thunderbird Five, give me comms.”

“Negative, Thunderbird One.”

“John-“

“Thunderbird Prime’s orders. You’re on sick leave, One.”

Mr Tracy swore dirty, very much not the calm, cool professional Alex was used to.

“Rest, Scooter. We’ve got this.” And the line cut out.

The man on the bed deflated like a balloon, falling back onto the mattress almost as limp as when Alex had first caught him.

An arm came up over his eyes and a barely discernible whisper crossed his lips. “Goddamnit.”

-o-o-o-

Mr Tracy lay there like that for enough time for Alex to think he had fallen asleep.

Should he leave or go? Both Gordon and Mrs Tracy had asked him to stay…really ‘ordered’ him to stay. But Virgil…

Virgil needed Alex to give him permission to relax. Virgil needed Alex to drag him back to bed to stop his headlong run into work and exhaustion.

Yet Virgil was reportedly the level-headed brother.

Virgil had often described Mr Tracy as the embodiment of his Thunderbird - fast, impatient, determined, and consequently ridiculously prone to working himself into collapse.

In Virgil’s case, it was a pot and kettle situation, but after tonight’s demonstration, Alex had first-hand experience and there was the distinct possibility that Mr Tracy would do exactly what Virgil predicted.

As if the thought was permission, Mr Tracy rolled over in the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

Alex blinked. “Do you really want to do that?”

The man jumped, tired eyes latching onto him and widening. “Alex?”

Stepping forward, Alex held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Mr Tracy, Mrs Tracy said you need to stay in bed.”

Those blue eyes blinked once sharply and then again but slower. “There’s a situation.” His words were running into each other.

Alex took another step closer. “Mr Tracy, you need to rest.”

He looked away, mumbling something.

“Mr-“

“Alex, my name is Scott.”

“Sorry, sir.”

That drew those eyes back to him, if only for them to roll as Mr Tracy let himself fall back onto the bed. “Augh, Alex.”

“Sorry, s-“

The man grunted.

“-cott.”

A more positive grunt and he shifted on the bed, pulling the covers over himself before fixing his eyes once again on Alex.

Those eyes had so much power.

“So, Grandma has you sitting guard.” It wasn’t a question, more of a challenge.

Alex straightened his spine. “I guess so.”

There was steel in that tired blue, but Alex held on.

Just long enough for Mr Tracy to sigh and relax back into the bed and close his eyes. “Fine.”

There was silence after that. If Alex was working for any other employer than the Tracys, he might have been afraid that he was throwing away his career future.

He wasn’t.

The silence stretched on and Alex resisted the urge to fidget. But then a soft snore wafted up from the bed.

It was followed by another.

Oh, thank god.

Alex wilted where he stood, suddenly aware of exactly how early in the morning it was. A chair beside the bed beckoned, so Alex edged over as silently as possible and curled up.

He watched the bed covers move evenly up and down as Scott slept.

Up and down.

In and out.

Up and…down.

His eyes dropped closed.

-o-o-o-

Next

[napoleondidthat]

Napoleon, The Director’s Cut

The added material makes the film better but that doesn’t mean it’s good.

So I did it. I rewatched the Napoleon movie with the added material. I was wondering if a second view would salvage it, maybe it ages well.

That answer is no.

It has been awhile since I saw the theater version, so I am not 100% sure that what I will say isn’t maybe a few scenes that were in the movie and I just don’t recall. There are new scenes and old scenes that are longer now.

From the beginning to Toulon are about the same as far as I can tell. One thing I will note: it is curious that they chose as the Bonaparte family representative Lucien. I am happy to see Lucien get some love as he’s my favorite of the dysfunctional clan, but it seems a weird choice. Joseph is usually chosen because he and Napoleon do have a different dynamic of an elder brother who has such a stronger personality younger brother. But what is equally weird is that Lucien serves no purpose. He’s there in a military looking uniform listening to Barras talk about France’s military challenges, he just pops up in Toulon (as does Barras who apparently just hangs around on the perimeter of the battlefield) so Napoleon can hand him the cannonball he fishes out of his poor dead horse (I’m traumatized all over again), and then disappears completely after the coup d’etat.

There might be some new stuff in here but I am not remembering it.

The most backfill is the Josephine arc, and that does actually help the film somewhat. In the theater version Josephine launches on screen stumbling out of prison.

Scene one shows her at her home and some asshole guy is questioning a five year old Hortense about the whereabouts of her father and the Revolution. Eugene stands back with Lucille, the maid. Josephine watches the scene from the top of the stairs wrapped in a shawl. Little Hortense is obviously scared and says that her father is in prison and the Revolution is against the nobility. The man asks her about her and the father (I think) loyalty and is she a noble, and she looks to Josephine for guidance, Josephine nods at her to answer. She says she is noble, her father does support the Revolution, and so does she. The man warns her not to lie because he can tell. Josephine pipes in saying that she’s a five year old child leave her alone she tells the truth etc.

That scene bleeds to the next where Josephine is in the back of a cart of other prisoners and is being unloaded at Carmes prison. She is processed through by a gruff woman who strips her of her rings and demands to see in her mouth. She wanders around the prison and at all the chaos. A woman comes out and calls her name and they embrace. It’s Therese Tallien. She leads her through the prison and acts a bit of a tour guide. The watch some prisoners get in the cart to meet the guillotine. Therese says there is no tears….moving on. They pass cramped quarters where they pass a couple having sex. Therese says if a woman gets pregnant she can avoid the blade and “since when do men need a reason to fuck?”

The next scene is that night and Josephine lays in Therese’s bed and watches her doll herself in the mirror as much as she can. She ties a red ribbon around her neck and tells her how it represents the blade. Therese states she will survive this and Josephine can too or she can die pure. Josephine stays silent in all these scenes.

Next scene is Josephine cutting her hair short, looking a little more sexy in her dress and walking down to the lower part of the prison where she goes to a man waiting for her on a bed. And fade to black.

There is a rather powerful scene of an order of nuns being led to the guillotine. The crowd jeers and screams at them just like they did for Marie Antoinette. But these nuns look pristine in their habits and they go to their deaths calm and cool and singing a hymn in French. The last nun is just a young girl and she watches as all her order meets their end and she goes up the platform and they rip her veil from her and put her down on the bench for the blade and she never misses a note. Her song only ends when the blade falls. The crowd that was bloodthirsty just goes deathly silent and exchange looks with each other.

That follows the scene of Barras confronting Robespierre over his actions. Same as the theater version. Robespierre shoots himself again but the scene doesn’t end with Barras saying “the guillotine for you my friend” the added scene is Robespierre’s death as he is dragged with his bandaged face up to the guillotine with the crowd cheering. He is beheaded.

The scene with Josephine leaving prison is longer. She walks around the city and it’s rather strangely deserted and messy streets. She comes to her house and enters to find it’s been ransacked. She goes up the stairs calling out to her children and Lucille. She is eventually confronted by Lucille who takes her to be an intruder but then recognizes her and calls for her children. They appear and approach her slowly as Josephine takes off her hood and they all reunite.

The party scene where Napoleon and Josephine meet is longer. Napoleon runs into Barras who cheers him but Napoleon like the buzzkill he is refuses to show a smile and Barras eye rolls him off. The scene of the play that they are putting on is a bit longer with Josephine and Napoleon first noticing each other in this setting and exchanging glances. Josephine is sitting at Barras’ table. Napoleon is hanging out with Lucien.

An added scene is that after the party there is a scene of a naked Josephine having sex with Barras after the party. She watches herself in the mirror. Barras tells her she accumulated a lot of debt at the party that night and gets up to get some money for her debts. She quips she should charge him more for the attention she brings him. He tosses the money at her and says he will pay for her debts this time but he’s done. She needs to get to know Bonaparte.

Fast forward to Napoleon and Josephine courting. Lucille and Josephine talk about whether Josephine likes Napoleon that way or not. There is an extended scene of Napoleon receiving her invite but this time it shows him standing outside her door killing time in the street by reading a newspaper. Lucile watches him from the door discreetly. She closes the door when he come across the street. He rings the bell and Lucille stands inside the door smiling. She makes him knock again before she opens and smiles and welcomes him in. I am not sure what this is supposed to be implying? Lucille has a crush on him too?

The wiff of grapeshot is the same but there is an added scene of Napoleon, Barras and other random military men singing a song and toasting their success. They all congratulate Napoleon as the savior but he shrugs it off and plays humble.

The wedding scene is slightly longer I think. The guy talks about their birthdays that I don’t remember from the original.

Italian campaign is merely what they show in the released footage that I posted. There is the dinner where Napoleon notices Hippolyte and Josephine chatting it up at the dinner table.

There are more scenes with Hippolyte and Josephine. Mostly narrated by Napoleon writing to her his love etc. One scene of Josephine buying hats and Hippolyte sits in a chair and watches her. She looks sad like she does through most of this film. Hippolyte puts on a turban and clowns around. The two maids find it adorable and laugh. Josephine seems mortified and keeps telling him to stop and to take it off.

There is an extra scene of Napoleon and Josephine lying in bed and she tells him that the trouble is that he is always off to battle and she is alone and never knows if he will return or not. He assures her he will always return and not to worry. He kisses her all over her face and she looks on gloomy. I don’t remember where this scene is, but it’s around the Italian campaign scenes.

Another Josephine and Hippolyte scene where he is in her garden chatting up people and Josephine sits inside by the piano listening to the musician play. He watches her as she looks visibly upset.

Napoleon in Egypt is pretty much the same as the original. His return is slightly different. He returns to find the house empty and blows up at Lucille. There is an added creepy scene of Napoleon eating alone at the dining table and Lucille comes in with a plate. Napoleon stops her and apologizes for his outburst. She understands. Be great if they stop there. But no. Napoleon slides his chair out and asks Lucille to sit on his knee and she does. He tells her he’s sad and needs comforting what can be done? She tells him she can get him some desert or draw him a hot bath and she will console him. Napoleon just lays his head on her shoulder.

The scene where Napoleon confronts Josephine over the affair is for the most part the same except there does seem to be some added dialogue. Josephine the following day asks Napoleon if had affairs and he admits he did. She asks if they were pretty and did he love them etc. He says they were pretty because they didn’t cry. She then says she doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t leave her. Please don’t leave me. I don’t recall this in the original film but maybe it was there and I just blocked it out.

The scene where Napoleon confronts the directory is longer to me it seems with some additional dialogue but that could be wrong.

There is an additional scene of Napoleon cleaning his guns at the dinner table with Lucien. They are a bit drunk and Lucien says he doesn’t get why Napoleon is going along with the plotters plans. He doesn’t need them. Napoleon says he will need ladies in waiting, right? Lucien says they aren’t good except to lick your balls and Napoleon laughs and says that he will need one of those. Josephine stands on the balcony watching and listening. She leaves, Napoleon hears the sound and swings the gun in her direction but she’s gone.

There is a new scene I think of Napoleon designing the Consulate uniforms. There is also a scene of Napoleon and Josephine hosting a party and mingling along the table where Napoleon kinda flirts and Josephine watches him and the flirts with whoever she talks to.

The assassination attempt scene is pretty much what has been released. It happens incorrectly and Napoleon yells at his advisors. They do show the execution of the Duc d’Enghein out in the forest and not in a moat. He’s some poor sweaty looking guy. He messes with the gravel he’s standing on and turns and there is the firing squad. He reminds them he is a Frenchman and some other nobles stuff and asks to command the execution. The guy who I assume is General Dumas ignores him and commands ready…aim…but then tells the duc that he can go ahead. The duc instructs to aim at the heart and the guns fire.

It’s the scene right after the coronation that Napoleon and Hippolyte Charles have their conversation.

A lot that comes after this is the same I think. There is a whole scene in Russian between the Czar and God knows who. And they only subtitle half of the scene. So you listen to the rest and don’t know what the fuck anyone is saying.

There is a scene of Napoleon huge ass map being painted by David. Napoleon wanders in in his nightgown and starts walking on the map. David tells him it’s not dry and if he must walk on it, he can step on Italy. Cut to the new scene of Napoleon and his generals on the map planning Austerlitz and Napoleon hopping on Italy so as not to disturb the now dry paint? I don’t know.

There is a scene of Napoleon on the toilet before battle, I believe it’s Austerlitz. He gets up and then buries his head in a bowl of water. He strips down and asks I guess the valet to brush him like a horse. Harder etc.

The next new scenes seem to be Napoleon on Elba. There is a scene of him walking down a street by himself and he draws his sword and starts practicing fencing moves but trips over his own feet and falls down in a doorway.

There is a scene of a boy bringing his boots that he shined in and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. Napoleon chuckles and asks him to go get him wine. Napoleon sees in the paper Josephine is wining and dining Alexander. He gets mad but this time the boy enters the room and Napoleon asks him if he knows who Alexander is. The boy says no. He asks but you knew who I was? The boy says yes. Napoleon dismisses him.

There is a new scene of Napoleon and his mother serving him lunch. She quips she didn’t come all this way to sit and have lunch with her son who is a moody SOB. Napoleon doesn’t react but just broods. She tells him he wasn’t meant to die on this island and puts her arm around him. Napoleon tells her his wife is entertaining the Emperor of Russia in his home. Madame Mere hugs him.

Except she isn’t your wife. It isn’t your home. And she’s dead. And what has happened to his son and Marie Louise? Never mentioned again.

The scene where he learns of Josephine’s death seems longer. There is a scene where he goes into her bedroom and crawls into bed. That might be in the original and I forgot.

There is a small scene of him on the toilet again before Waterloo. He wipes his tush and look into the bowl to see nothing but blood.

There is an additional added on scene of Napoleon showing the St. Helena girls how to fence before he just drops dead at the picnic table.

I think those are all the added scenes. I may have missed a few.

This movie feels like a bunch of baggage the British have yet to unload from Napoleon to me. Like an angry ex who can’t understand why the guy they broke up with is still so popular and why we aren’t writing odes to Wellington. It also feels strangely like English cartoon propaganda come to life. Like all those English cartoons now filmed with people.

I say this because the obnoxious hit you over the head stats at the end tallying up the war dead is just so cringing. I am no war lover but laying the blame at Napoleon only seems the worst of takes. Not only does it ignore that a lot of history is people waging war and killing each other, it’s not as if Napoleon is a serial killer racking up all these deaths on his own. If Napoleon is to blame, then so is Wellington for dragging his army out at Waterloo. He could have stayed away and look how many people would have lived? And a nation that was at one time killing people left and right all over the globe as it expanded empire saying “yeah but Napoleon did…” seems a bit too hypocritical.

Second, if Napoleon is such a baddie, then why portray him as such a buffoon? It’s hard to hate him in this movie because he’s a cartoon. This Napoleon if anything makes me want to flick him off the screen. And that sucks because Napoleon is so much more compelling than this hot mess.

What story are they telling? That Napoleon was a warmonger but also a cartoon? That Napoleon was a serious threat? That Napoleon had mommy issues? That Napoleon and Josephine were toxic were they some great romance?

They keep trying to point to Napoleon having some weird Mommy issues but never follow the thread except for some characters making statements out of nowhere.

The actors do the best with this crap, but they all suck including Vanessa Kirby who usually gets praised. Sure, she does alright if you don’t know the real character of Josephine.

Kirby and Phoenix seem to try to be overly serious about these characters to the point that they become melodramatic jokes. You can make an argument that Josephine did suffer some form of PTSD after the Revolution. She probably did. Except it didn’t last her whole life. The historical record of her is as gracious, cheerful, warm, loved to spend and party, happy for the most part. She also could be a drama Queen and manipulator. Did Kirby just not read this and instead picked up some emo biography that I’m not aware of? He constant “fuck off and fuck you and the horse you rode in on” is so unlike the real woman.

Phoenix I think honestly doesn’t give a shit. He was way too old for the part but he is a gifted actor so I though he might be able to pull it off. Clavier was way too old too but somehow shines better than Phoenix. And Clavier wasn’t that great of a Napoleon either. But when Phoenix was quoted as sort of saying Napoleon was a little weirdo with a small coat that he wasn’t really concerned with playing a historical figure but just a cartoon character.

It could be also because I think the chemistry between Vanessa and Phoenix is in the negative territory that the characters fall flat.

In closing, this a film I can’t see myself really watching again. It has its moments, and it does look like an Assassin’s Creed Unity decorated set (and that is a compliment). It’s just too much for a mess and not really a fun mess. I’m glad I got to see it in the theater because Lord knows when that will happen again, the opportunity to see a movie about something that I live with in my head.

But this is a British cartoon take on a man that they seem to still be angry with and they want you to remember he is a villain, a terrible killer but also a silly man child who is a buffoon somehow.

Oh and he is a shitty lover too who doesn’t know anything about it.

[tigerwing-animal-hrt]

Cat HRT 0 Months

My alarm went off, blaring in my ear. I turned it off and got up, heading for the bathroom.

Sure, getting up at noon wasn’t exactly early, but it was for me. Thank you being a night shift employee for giving me a reason to be up the hours that actually work best for me.

I brushed my teeth and got ready for my appointment, being sure to make sure my partner was awake to take me. She was sitting up by the time I was ready.

“Are you ready for your appointment?” She asked, checking she had her wallet.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Here’s your keys.” I handed them to her and left the room, scooping small kittens out of the way before they got a chance to run in before my partner closed the bedroom door again.

The car ride was quiet, save for music playing as he drove. Until we got to the appointment.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, gesturing towards the office of Dr. Erian as a woman with budding horns, fur, and a tail walked out.

“Yes, I am,” I responded, a bit shakily. “Is that… I think I know her.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Yes, please…”

We got out, and she must have seen the nervous and startled look on my face. “Is this your first appointment?” She asked kindly, looking at the way I clutched my fiance’s hand to my chest.

“Yeah. I think I’ve seen you talking about your experiences… Josie?”

“Yeah, my name’s Josie. You look petrified. Don’t worry. The doctor can be difficult, but you’ll be fine. Take the leap. I think you’d be happy.”

“Thank you…” I looked up at her. “Thank you. I should get in there, don’t want to be late.”

“Of course not.” With that, she was heading away.

My fiance looked at me. “Do you know her?”

“Kind of, I’ve seen her talking about her transition. Now let’s go before I’m late.”

We walked up to the doors, and into the reception area. He went and sat down on a larger seat, likely one meant for a dragon or similar creature. He laid down as I spoke with the receptionist.

“Appointment for James… at 2pm.” I said.

“Alright, I have you right here. Fill this out and bring it back to me.”

I took it and went to go sit and fill it out. It was a basic questionnaire, asking about health problems, identity information, the works. I got to the information about species and paused before writing Domestic cat- Felis catus. Longhaired tortoiseshell variant.

I signed the waivers after skimming them, then took all the paperwork back to the receptionist.

“Can my fiance come with me?”

“Sure, but she’ll have to wait for a few minutes after you go back there.”

“Alright, I’ll let her know.”

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

“James?”

“Coming!” I got up, put my phone in my pocket, and walked to the nurse.

They led me through the doors and sat me in a room to take my blood pressure, pulse, temperature, ask me the usual safety questions. After I was done, the nurse got my fiance and we walked to the office of Dr T. H. Erian.

“Which one of you is the patient?”

My fiance pointed at me. “He is, I’m just moral support.”

I nodded and we both sat down opposite the doctor.

“I see you’re interested in becoming a… domestic cat?”

“Yes.” I gripped my fiance’s hand tightly under the desk, he squeezed back.

“And you’re a trans man?”

“Yes.”

“How unusual. Why a tortoiseshell? Those are always female, and you marked down male as your legal sex.”

“That’s complicated, doc.”

“I’d expect you to pick a coat pattern that you’d see on a male cat is all.”

“My answer won’t change.”

“Very well then, I’ll see what I can do. Have you been living as your preferred species for the last 48 months?”

“Yes, I have, doc.”

“Can you confirm this?” He turned to my fiance.

“Yes, yes I can.” He held up his arm, showing a faint line of scratches that were still healing. “This is because I gave him a bath yesterday.”

“Is that so? Hmm. I’ll need to develop the formula for you, but that shouldn’t take too long. Your prescription should be ready in about two weeks.”

“Thank you, doc.”

“You’ll need to make changes to your diet while taking this medication. More meat, less everything else. Read this pamphlet before you leave.” He handed me and my fiance both pamphlets about feline HRT. “Some things may differ in order and strength of effect, but all of this information will be relevant.”

“Am I the first trans man to be taking this?”

“Yes, and I’ll need you to log any and all effects to see how thins differ for you.”

“So he’s an experiment?” My fiance asked, standing and looking like she was half a step from hopping the desk and decking the doctor.

I put my hand on her arm. “It’s new and experimental. Someone has to be the first.”

“Exactly. Now. Any questions?”

“Will you call me when it’s ready?”

“Of course.”

“Will I be coming here to pick my prescription up, or will it be sent to the pharmacy?”

“I’ll send it to the pharmacy.”

“Alright, thank you. Oh, last question. Will it be an oral medicine, or an injection?”

“Oral is the usual route. Do you want injections?”

“Depends on if it tastes bad.”

“I’ve heard it isn’t too bad.”

I stood up, and my fiance and I left the office. I was shaking, nervous but excited.

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

I got the call that my prescription was ready, almost exactly two weeks later. I turned to my fiance, almost vibrating with excitement. “It’s ready!”

“Alright, get dressed, and let’s go.”

I scrambled to get ready, almost bouncing off the walls.

“Calm down, kitty. I know you’re excited.”

“But… but… but…”

“I know. Let’s go.”

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

My prescription was a bottle of small pills, enough for a month with instructions to take before bed each night.

“I wonder what happens if you take it during the day?” I showed them to my fiance.

“Feli- Felisterone?” Is that what it says?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonder what they taste like.”

“You’re not taking them, dear.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to.”

“Go play your game, dear.”

“Love you too.”

I made a post online about picking up my prescription, and a few comments on the timelines I saw, including the white tiger and a few others like Josie, since I’d met her briefly, telling her thank you in particular for giving me the push I needed. I commented on the king cobra guy’s, saying I was another transmasc on HRT. Same for the black arms timeline that crossed my dash shortly after.

I also commented on the slimes, werewolves, dragons, and bat that I saw afterwards. The lamias were neat- I asked to join a server about HRT.

I went to take a quick shower before my fiance gave me my testosterone shot and I settled in to play Farmer’s Life until it was time for my new medication.

My fiance handed me the pill bottle, my drink, and my stuffed animals.

“Here goes everything, I guess.” I took my first dose.

“Good boy.” She patted my head. “Do you feel any different?”

“No, but it’s only been a minute.”

“Still.” She tucked me in and then turned back to her game. “Night, kitty.”

First Prev Next (TBD)