#this’ll be the summer highlight

[pealeii]

I’M GOING TO SEE A YEAR WITH FROG AND TOAD ON THURSDAY!!!!!!!

[tentacolegaming]

Lately, I’ve been trying to branch out from the usual games I play on YouTube. As much as I LOVE Splatoon 3 (and I still want it to be the main focus of my channel), I think having some variety in my content is nice.

My ANTONBLAST and Annalynn videos; the start of my New File Summer project; and – more recently – my Omega Strikers streams; are the biggest examples of this. However…I’ve been feeling the itch to experiment with Omega Strikers content in particular. THAT’S why I mention it in my YouTube channel trailer video.

I’ve announced this on-stream before: I’m hoping to release some Omega Strikers videos in the near future! From simple & casual guides to the return of my montages (and even little highlight videos), I wanna make the most of my enjoying the game. I’m unsure of how often I’ll upload those videos, though… 😞 I don’t want the fun and novelty of the game to wear off quickly.

I’m also pleased to announce that my first two Omega Strikers montages will be for Luna and Octavia! These are the two characters with which I’m the most comfortable; I think this’ll be a fun way to ease myself back into making montages.

I really hope my making Omega Strikers content will bring in another exciting part to my channel. I’ll try to do the best I can on it! 🙂

[seitmai]

Ok I have many many thoughts so more under the cut🫶🏻

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

You can already see how much he cares about her🥺

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Ahh Bob to the rescue!! 🫶🏻👏🏻

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

I just know Javy has regularly intervene because of Jake's non existing reading a room to stop fights from brwaking out lol

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

He is holding his breath, I can feel it

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret.

Ahhh this is so nostalgic for me, I lived for a while in Charlottesville so I appreciate all those details of the area🫶🏻

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

Bradley have you never heard of humor to dissolve the anxiety and tension?

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair.

As it should be!!

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

On the inside, he is puffing his chest in pride

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before. “You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

That part?! So fucking hot 🥵

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

🥹🥹🥹

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

Lmao Javy is putting in the work

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.” You see him fight back a smirk. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.“

I'm screaming!!! She being an absolutely queen and not lowering the bar?! Bradley being so FUCKING proud?! I can't 😮‍💨🫠🥰

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.”

Honestly I wanna know EVERYTHING about the others sex life hahah🤭😅

I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

🥰🥰🥰

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[phoningflamigo]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Now that this year is over I can say it was such a mixed bag. Personally? Late summer to fall was a real highlight, and April to May was… a special kind of low, for me, anyways. Took over my birthday.

I finally gave up running Pikmin D&D and can technically post all the remaining art, but I think I’m ready to move on from it for a while. Start new projects this year.

Hopefully I’ll post more on here, it would be so nice to post art without stress of it being eaten by yet another AI shitbeast. Maybe this’ll be the year I stop stressing, get a tattoo, and talk about my deep love of horror games.

May the new year bring you joy, and an endless rain of glorious spiders.

[mariinara]

TWENTY - TWO (Sam Drake x Reader) ANGST |PART 2|

A/N: Aaaand that's a wrap on this one, ladies and gents! This was all sorts of emotions rolled into a single one-shot but HEY it is what it is and y'all know how I am by now so :") HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY THIS ONE.

Tags: @easy-and-steady , @the-winchesterboys , @the-drakeboys , @missdictatorme , @psg-for-life , @elledrake , @samdrakeftw , @s4mdrake , @ghost-of-the-oldwest , @writersblockincoming , @purplezebra68 , @hrgnm

Request for anon: '14, 18, and 19 for angst prompts with Sam? 👀👀 I also really really adore your work!!!'

Prompts: "Can you just kiss me? One last time? That's all I ask.." + "Don't make this harder than it already is.." + "It's better this way."

Warnings: ANGST. Just ANGST, okay?

Word count: ~ 4.8K

(Part one here!)

-TWO WEEKS LATER-

Your fingers tapped away on your keyboard, your eyes flickering from the screen to your fingers as you filled in a resume for a teaching job in Boston. You wanted to quit your job in Philadelphia to spend as much of the summer vacation as you could with your mother. When she’d come back from Jersey, that is.. 

Avery was completely supportive of your decision and thought that you and your mother needed to squeeze some bonding time into your tight schedules. She wanted to keep her job in Philly, though because it paid pretty well and she wanted to gain her independence as quickly as possible, which Sam pretended to be proud of when it caused him severe anxiety, despite knowing fully how capable his daughter was. However, she was his only daughter and he liked when she counted on him for everything, but as she grew up, she became less and less dependent on him and it upset him to some extent but he hid it well.

Sam..

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him, your cheeks heating up as memories flashed through your head of that night. The images were so vivid that you felt the same sensations tingling you, causing every hair on your body to stand up and a shiver escape your parted lips and, suddenly, you were no longer focused on the resume and were only swimming in your pool of that night’s memories. God, it was so good. How he had no control over his actions. The look in his eyes that so clearly displayed his hesitation-- his debate on whether to take the next big step. And once you reassured him that it was okay and that he could do whatever he wanted, he took you hard and fast, his hand clamped over your mouth or his lips against yours to silence you and nothing in the world mattered at that point.

You inhaled sharply before chuckling lightly to yourself. The best thing about what happened was how you casually put your clothes back on and continued to play video games all throughout the night and laughing like nothing ever happened. To some women, that could’ve been a bad thing, but to you, that was the equivalent of cuddling. And he stayed charming and funny up until he passed out right next to you, which made you smile, pull a blanket over his body, and plant a quick kiss to his cheek. Next thing you knew, you were out of the shower and sleeping next to Avery, who was passed out and snoring softly like the heavy sleeper she was.

That was almost two weeks ago and you hadn’t seen or heard from Sam since you entered your empty home, but you didn’t question it. You reckoned he was probably busy with finding another gig with Sullivan. You and Avery called everyday, though, and she’d tell you how absentminded and distracted her father seemed. She’d be talking to him and he would be in another dimension and would snap out only when she alerted him, apologizing and asking her to repeat what she’d said before he’d do it all over again. She was complaining about it to you and you couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good or bad thing. For all you knew, you might’ve had him finally wrapped around your finger.. Or he was completely regretting what he’d done. 

Your cell phone suddenly started ringing, startling you out of your thoughts. You realized that you’d been staring at the blinking cursor aimlessly for the past ten minutes. A sigh escaped your lips as you reached for your cell on the nightstand, expecting it to be your mother checking up on you, but when you looked at the ID, you raised your brow. 

She usually didn’t call you more than twice a day and you didn’t know why she was calling again after you rambled on to each other for two straight hours but you decided to pick up with a smile: “Hey, Av--”

“(Y/N).” 

You frowned deeply at her tone. The way her voice cracked and the sniffles and little whimpers alerted you, causing you to sit up straight and push the laptop off of your lap, “Ave? What’s wrong?” You asked, causing her to let out a small sob, “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s dad.” She croaked, her voice still broken. You found your heart sinking at her vague response and a million things popped up in your head, but before you could say anything, Avery continued, "He's going to Vancouver.." 

Your brows pulled together in confusion and you shook your head, "Wait, but– He travels all the time, Ave, what–"

"No, no, I'm goin' with him."

Your mouth snapped shut and you shifted on your bed a little so your legs dangled from the side, “H-Hold on, Ave.” You closed your eyes with a soft sigh, your fingers rubbing your forehead, “Slow it down for me.”

You heard her sharp intake of air and her shaky exhale shortly following, “Dad.. got a job in Vancouver and we’re gonna move there for a while.” 

Your eyes snapped open again and you felt your breath hitch in your throat, “What’s “a while”..?”

You heard a short pause on Avery’s end and your heart sank with each passing second. You were going to prod her to speak up, but what she said next almost made you double over: 

“A year and a half..”

Your blood ran cold and your eyes widened. And suddenly, everything around you started falling apart. Your whole being began to crumble. Your breathing started getting heavier when you asked yourself: 'If it's just work, why would he take Avery this time?' and you realized that he was probably planning on staying there for good and Avery knew it as well.

Your hand flew to cover your mouth to muffle a cry.

"I don't know what to do. He told me so suddenly and I pretended to be happy just because he seemed happy and I–" Avery paused to gasp for air, "Sully got him this job all of a sudden and he's been packing for the past twelve hours and–" She sobbed. The sound broke your heart to a million pieces and you wanted to just apologize to her. For all you know, you might've been the cause of what was happening. Maybe he wanted to leave because of you, "I dunno what to do and I'm runnin' outta time, (Y/N)."

You let out a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes shut, your jaw clenching as you cursed yourself before getting up to your feet, walking over to your closet, "It's okay; Calm down– I'll be here in a few."

"There's literally no time– The moving company came for our stuff and we're headed for the airport in a few."

You frowned, "Moving.. company?" 

"That's what I asked but he said that he needed everything in case the job took a little longer than he expected." She croaked and sniffled again, "I don't fucking know what he takes me for or if he's being an idiot on purpose."

"No– Listen to me: Your dad is not an idiot." You defended in a calm tone, "You shouldn't blame him for this; he, uh.." You stared down at your feet, biting down on your bottom lip in contemplation as you swayed back and forth on your heels and soles, "He–He hasn't worked in a while and he needs this, so just.." You looked up again, your shoulders slacked in surrender and your eyes glossy with tears, "Just see where this'll go.. You're all he has, Ave and he loves you so, so much." You slowly breathed out, not wanting her to hear how you were trembling– not wanting her to detect how you were one minute away from breaking down. 

You closed your eyes again as she spoke, letting your tears slip freely down your cheeks.

"I know." She sniffled, "He's been so strange and I feel like he's not telling me something."

At that, you mentally smacked yourself about three-hundred times in a row. It hurt you so deeply how you've betrayed her trust like that. And again, with your eyes closed, memories flashed before your eyes, but the narrative completely changed. 

Sam's groans and words of praise filled your ears, his chest hot against your arched back and his hand clamped over your mouth while you let out muffled cries. But you imagined Avery, standing there, watching you in horror, drowning in her tears, traumatized by the sight. And you made eye contact with her at that very moment, maintaining it, as if to taunt her– to highlight just how selfish you were. You imagined her staring back, betrayal written all over her face, her cheeks burning from the salty tears and her hand clutching her chest and her other covering her mouth. With one snap of Sam's hips, you were pushed over the edge and your vision blurred with white light, your brows furrowing and your heart furiously pounding in your chest as you let out a scream into his hand, but when your eyes readjusted, Avery was no longer there. And neither were her pictures that once filled every corner in the living room. They were white sheets in pretty frames. And the ones she had with Sam only had him in them. And somewhere, from afar, you saw your father, laughing as he sent you a wink and walked away from you, only to dissipate into thin air. 

"(Y/N)..?" 

You snapped out with a sharp inhale, your brows arched and your eyes wide with terror as your fingers ghosted your lips before you covered your mouth, hoping that she didn't catch that sound that slipped you. 

"You still there?"

"I-I'm here." You quickly replied, your hand dropping from your mouth to rub your chest, trying to ease the feeling of immense discomfort, "I'll be right at the airport, okay?"

There was a short pause and then, you heard him call out for his daughter, followed by a "We gotta go, baby!" and you didn't think it was possible for your heart to sink any more than it has, but it did. 

"Coming, dad!" Avery called back, her voice completely different, as if she hadn’t been bawling for the past hour, “I’ll stall him at the airport cafeteria, okay?”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath, “O-Okay. I’ll be right there.” 

“Hurry..”

“I will.” 

You quickly hung up and put the phone on your dresser before hurrying to put on anything. You opted for a hoodie and a pair of jeans, pulled your hair back with whatever hair band you could find into a low bun, slipped on whatever sneakers that were next to your door, grabbed your car keys and phone, and hurried out of the house, trying to keep calm so your drive there wouldn’t be a complete disaster. 

You wasted absolutely no time. You kept your eyes on the road, had a steady foot on the gas, but your chest bubbled with anxiety. The kind that made you let out a small, suffocated whimper from time to time. The kind that made your hands tighten around the steering wheel. The kind that made it extremely unbearable to listen to anything from the radio, which caused you to reach out and turn it off quickly. You rolled down the window after the light turned green, immediately speeding down the road, the wind ruffling the stray strands of hair that fell on either side of your face and drying the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Your eyes caught a sign that made you nervously chew on the nail of your thumb, your heart beat quicker, and your stomach churn with jitters. Your head was so empty and you were so fixated on getting to your destination that you haven’t even rehearsed what to tell Sam or Avery. 

You were filled to the brim with sadness, nervousness, and a tinge of anger. The street lights that rushed past you and the sound of the wind had a hypnotic effect on you. The sound of cars zooming by on the smooth asphalt put you at ease somehow. 

When you parked in the airport’s garage, you didn’t even pause to think about your next step. You were out of your car and running towards the entrance, pushing past families and couples, absentmindedly muttering ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s, getting looks in the process. 

You were stopped at the first checkpoint at the entrance by a security guard, who thoroughly searched you while you looked ahead, getting on your tiptoes to look past his shoulder for the cafeteria, but your eyes only saw several ticket booths and passport checks next to each other. 

“Free to go.”

You closed your slightly open mouth and got to your feet, swallowing your nerves and flickering your eyes to look at the guard, “Uhh, excuse me, but is there a cafeteria close by?”

“There’s more than one, but--”

Your phone rang in your back pocket and you quickly pulled it out and checked the ID, letting out a shaky sigh before answering, “Sorry..” You mumbled to the guard, “Ave? Where are you?”

“We’re in Peet’s coffee and Tea.” She sniffled, her voice a bit above a whisper, “I’m in the bathroom but I’ll come back in a bit, I just, uhh..” She huffed, “I needed a little time for myself.”

“O-Okay..” You nodded, “I can wait for a bit..” You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your lips together, dreading the fact that it meant you’d have time with Sam. Alone. 

“I love you, Sparrow.”

You nodded your head, smiling softly, “I love you, too, Salazar..”

The line went blank and you looked up at the guard with a sheepish smile, “Peet’s tea and coffee..” You shook your head, your brows pulling in confusion as you scratched your forehead, “Er.. Coffee and Tea..” He chuckled at that.

“Uhh, you’re gonna continue along this path and find east Terminal B. You’ll continue past Starbucks and the vending machine and you’re there.”

You huffed softly and nodded, “Okay, thank you. Thank you so much!” You ran past him and made it through the crowds of people, apologizing and mumbling your way through people, your eyes fixated ahead. The sign above your head displayed ‘Terminal B’ and your stomach did flips as you ran past Starbucks and the feelings that bubbled up in your chest caused you to slow down. It was only then that you realized how out of breath you were.

How unprepared you were.

Your hand reached up for your fingers to gently brush the silver, heart-shaped pendant around your neck, with the letter 'A' engraved in beautiful cursive. 

You looked down at your feet as you walked, your hand clutching the silver heart.

Avery had the same one around her neck, with the initial of your name engraved. You'd had those since you were fourteen, but never in your life did you feel like you didn't deserve her love or trust. 

Again, you found yourself at your destination, with no semblance of an idea of what you were going to tell Sam. 

The chattering noises around you started dying down and were replaced by your loud heartbeats as you stepped into the café, your eyes carefully searching for a familiar face. Normally, the smell of brewing coffee and cold club sandwiches would draw you in but at the moment, you felt like you were growing sick. 

You looked around a corner, scanning the tables, only to see couples sitting and talking, teenagers being a tad louder than the rest of the people around them, or businessmen, sitting along in their fancy Tom Ford suits and their open macbooks, sipping on their typical cold brew. 

You sighed, but didn't know if it were from relief or frustration and just when you were about to search your head for how to approach Sam while you turned on your heel to look in another corner, you bumped into someone much taller than you, causing you to stumble back with a groan.

"Fuck." You cussed lowly, raising your hands in defense and backing away, scared that the person might be holding coffee, "Jesus, would you–" Your eyes flickered up and the aggressive furrow of your brows melted into a mildly surprised arch as you blinked, your eyes softening.

Sam pursed his lips and pushed one hand into the pocket of his Levi's while the other rested at his side, fiddling with a fraying thread in the side of his jeans. His eyes wandered from yours for a second before he looked deeply into them and his shoulders sagged, "Hey, kiddo.." He breathed out, giving you a tiny, awkward wave.

You blinked again, taking in a deep breath and crossing your arms, "Hey." You responded, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Did you know I was coming?" You asked, your hand quickly flying to wipe a stray tear from your cheek before you crossed your arms again with a small sniffle.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh.." He looked down for a second, as if he was ashamed of something. And you knew exactly what, "I figured Avery would call."

Your brows pulled together and your lips trembled slightly, "Why didn't you?" The bitterness that you tried to hide to no avail made him look up at you with a frown. 

He knew where this would go. It was inevitable. 

Sam reached out for you, "Okay, let's just sit down for a sec–"

"No." You sternly said, flinching away from his touch. The raise in your voice caught some attention around you, making Sam sigh softly and retreat his hand, "I want to know why you're doing this.." You whispered, your voice laced with heartbreak and disappointment. 

"Doing what?"

"Escaping me..!" You responded immediately, looking into his eyes as you took a step towards him. He ripped his gaze from yours and shook his head.

"I'm not escaping anything." He let out a mirthless chuckle, "I am trying to provide for Avery–"

"Oh, spare me the bullshit, Samuel." You venomously replied, narrowing your tearful eyes at him, "You are a coward." Your arms unfolded so you could push him away, which did nothing but make him take half a step back from you, "You're a fucking coward–" Your voice got louder as the lump in your throat grew more unbearable as you pushed on his chest again. He was quiet but his jaw was clenched. When you went to push him again, Sam grabbed your wrists to calm you down, knowing that both of you would be escorted outside if anyone from management took notice of the scenario.

"(Y/N)–"

"Get– offa me." You yanked your wrists away and took a step back, staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes as you wiped your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie, "Don't fucking touch me.." You croaked, pointing an accusing finger at him, "You are just like that fucker."

He paused to narrow his eyes at you, "What..?"

"You're gonna leave me just like he did!" You let out a broken sob, your shoulders shaking with every quiet cry that broke through you.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head slightly with a soft sigh, "Sweetheart, don't make this harder than it already is–"

"Please, stop.." You begged weakly, "You used me. Do not talk to me about things being "hard" because while you have a fucking escape, I do not!"

He scoffed, offended, "I did not use you–"

"Then why are you acting like that?!"

"Because."

"Because what?!"

"Because!"

"Because what!?–"

"Because I have feelings for you!" He snapped, making your breath hitch in your throat. You took a step back, feeling a little unbalanced as you frowned at him. His nostrils flaring and his eyes burning holes in your soul, his brows pulled together.

"What..?" You sounded confused. Or maybe hurt. Did you hear that right? By the look on his face, you seemed to have heard it right. Did it make sense? No. Absolutely zero sense, "Why did you.." Your brains froze on you, the gears not spinning properly, just lagging at every dent.

He took a step to make up for the distance you made between the two of you, "And I don't want to feel like that.." His hands were on your shoulders, then your upper arms, his thumbs drawing back and forth in comfort, "I'm pulling myself from the equation because I do care for you.. If we stay around each other, Avery's gonna notice and you're gonna lose her. I know that for a fact.." He searched your eyes for something. Anything. But it still seemed like you were at a loss for words, your mouth hanging open a little. It made him smile softly, his eyes gleaming with the sort of warmth that brought you a feeling of safety, "I don't want us to get in trouble. This could cost us everything and it is not worth it–"

"But it is." You refuted, hopeful. Your eyes brimmed with more tears at his words.

"No, no– Sweetheart, listen." His hands quickly cupped your cheeks so his thumbs could wipe away your tears, "I.. am not worth it."

You felt a sting in your heart. One that your face slightly contort in pain, "Sam–"

"You deserve someone who'll love you unconditionally without being a threat to every single relationship around you, and.." He shook his head, trying to search for the right words, "I love you unconditionally, but you and I've been through enough.." He breathed out, "You should be comfortable with the guy you bring. You should be with someone to bring home to your mom. Not lead a dangerous, tiring lifestyle. You don't need that." 

God, you hated how right he was. It made you love him all over again. His sincerity and tenderness with you contrasted the rough touch of his hands that you leaned your cheek into, your face shifting into one of complete pain as you let out a small sob.

"It's better this way.." His own eyes began to gloss the more he blinked and it took you back to that same night when he was completely vulnerable to you, "Trust me, sweetheart." He gave you a warm smile, tucking your stray strands of hair behind your ears, "C'mere.." He pulled you into a tight embrace, his chin on the dome of your head and the side of your face pressed against his chest. You felt his hands rubbing circles on your back. Slow, comforting, very familiar ones, "And I'm me.." You felt his chest vibrate and his cologne filling your nostrils, "I'll always be me; I'm not him.." Your fingers curled to clutch onto the front of his red flannel shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you cried quietly against him, "I'm never gonna really leave you." He pulled away from you for a second to look at your beautiful crying face that you used to make when you'd fall off your bicycle when he taught you or came back from school and straight into his arms when you'd have a rough day of bullies. It made him smile with a wistful sigh from his nose, "Not if you ever forget me." He flicked your nose gently with a teasing smirk, making you chuckle unexpectedly with a big grin. 

"Never." You replied, smiling up at him with that glimmer in your eyes and for a minute, it was only you two in the entire airport and it didn't matter how many eyes were on you. And there it was again.

That spark.

And again, your mind convinced you that he was leaning closer to kiss you, but you shook your head profusely, getting your vision straight before looking down at your awkwardly shuffling foot, "Can I, umm.." You clicked your tongue and scratched your cheek with your forefinger, clearing your throat, "Can I ask for a favor?" You mustered enough courage to look up at him, your hands clasped behind your back.

He shrugged a little, "Shoot." 

You bit down on your lip and your eyes traveled to his, "Can you just kiss me?" You quickly asked, afraid of wasting any more time before Avery would get back, "One last time..?" His shoulders fell and his eyes flickered to every corner of your face, as if he was mesmerized by you, thinking 'Oh, man..' at the angelic look on your face that he couldn't for the life of him resist, "That's all I ask.."

He let out a shaky breath and glanced around. No sign of Avery. He then looked back at you and reached out, gripping the front of your hoodie and yanking you forward, making you yelp and stumble a little, but he caught you with a firm arm around your waist, pressing you against him before capturing your lips in a soft kiss, relaying his utmost care and love for you. For a second you were taken aback but when it clicked, your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed back with a soft exhale from your nose. God, it felt so right. So good. 

It wasn't fair.

How something could feel so perfect but be so wrong in every aspect.

Sam slowly broke the kiss and the sound brought you back from paradise, causing you to slowly bat your lashes to adjust your eyesight, gripping onto his strong, muscular upper arms for support, "Oh, wow.." You muttered, swallowing thickly afterwards.

Sam let out a light, breathless laugh, still looking into your eyes. You smiled warmly up at him, wishing that you could take him and keep him forever, but it wasn't up to you.

His arm loosened from around you and his hand was now on your hip. When you backed away from him a little, his hand went back into his pocket and the lack of physical contact from him almost pained you.

"(Y/N)!" You heard Avery's voice, causing both you and Sam to look to the side, but before you could say anything, she ran into your arms, making you stagger back a little, "(Y/N).." She whimpered, her arms tightly wrapped around your neck and her face buried in your shoulder. Your arms slowly snaked around her and you held her close, closing your eyes. 

"Hey, Salazar.." You tried to lift her mood, your hands comfortingly rubbing her back. Sam looked down at both of you with a thin smile.

"I'm gonna miss you so.. so much." She breathed, her voice muffled in your hoodie, but you heard her loud and clear and it caused you to smile sadly.

"Hey.. There's still college.. And we'll video chat every day, okay?" You suggested, but your voice cracked with both uncertainty and hurt, "It'll be like.. like I'm right there with you." 

She nodded against you, hugging you tighter, "I love you, Sparrow.." 

"I do, too.." She pulled away from the hug to smile at you, tears staining her rosy cheeks, "So much." You returned her soft smile, sniffling a little. 

Sam's hand was on Avery's shoulder as he stood behind her, giving her a few squeezes.

'Flight to Vancouver in thirty minutes. Please head to Gate 15B.'

All of you looked up as the feminine voice broke through the speakers.

"Well.." Sam sighed, "That's our cue.." His eyes locked on yours and you pressed your lips and swallowed to prevent yourself from crying. Sam stepped forward and towards you, and again, you were in his arms and he hugged you close as you stood on your tiptoes, "You take care o' yourself, alright..?" Came his deep, raspy voice, making you feel safe again. But all you could do was wordlessly nod, afraid that if you talked, you'd cry again.

And as they walked away, stealing glances over their shoulder at you with smiles and small waves, you kept it together. 

You held your own until they disappeared in the large crowds of people, and suddenly, you felt hollow again, as if something sucked all air from your lungs, and suddenly, you hand was clutching your hoodie as if it burnt your very skin while you let out small sobs and gasps of air, trying to keep as quiet as possible. 

You squatted on the floor, not caring how many people stared at you or circumvented your body. You quickly pulled your phone from your back pocket and with a shaky hand, you dialed the only person you could think of and pressed it against your ear, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

Finally, she picked up, her sweet voice filling your ear with a gentle "Hey, sweetie."

"Mom.." You sobbed, "Mom, please come home." 

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?!"

"Mom.." You sniffled again, your whole body shaking as you debated yourself on what to say, but if you kept it to yourself, you’d feel like you'd explode, "I need to tell you something.."

                                           __________________

[artzypaw]

Rip Tide (bnha Surf AU)

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/ Kirishima Eijirou

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290699/chapters/48101773 

Word count: 5,029

Additional Tags: 

Bakusquad, Surfing, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Competition, Beaches, Scars, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Road Trips, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Insecure Kirishima Eijirou, ashido could be with anyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blood, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, Barbie References, Gay Kirishima Eijirou, Gay Bakugou Katsuki, Inside jokes, Hotel Rooms, surf competition, i'll add more tags when events become more relevant, denki is a dork, sero has no filter, kirishima is the literal embodiment of the sun, Bakugou wears glasses, but dont tell anyone, ashido paints all their nails, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Summary:

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls.

'or'

Bakusquad enters a local surf competition and feelings get messy along the way.

Chapts: 1/?

Notes: I'm so excited to be working on this!! I've already drawn photos showing off their surf swimwear and you can find them over on my Tumblr and Insta (but more so on my insta bc i have an exclusive highlighted story to share more deets before chapters come out ;-D)

There are fancy surfing tricks in this story so if you guys want a deeper look into what's to come, click here to read into them. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this'll end up being, but i'll have more of an idea once i've posted more :-)

(see end of post for tags! if you want me to tag you in the next chapters let me know!)

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Chapter 1: In which Bakugou signs a deal with the devil (or the squad)

The summers are always too hot. Hot and humid, hot and sticky, hot and there’s no escape once you leave the AC. If it weren’t for the constant breezes emanating off of the beach’s shoreline, everyone in the city would be walking fries. The concrete burns beneath any shoe worn and skin bakes once under the scorching heat. On days like this, Katsuki finds going to the water helps but rarely gets to it simply because so did everyone else. 

The tide is more forgiving in the morning and afternoon for him when it comes to surfing. Not only is he able to avoid the crowds of tourists, he can also get a decent swim in before having to go to the Marina for work.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

From what’s Katsuki’s learned, he is constantly on the water. More so than him, and that’s quite a bit considering he goes out whenever available between work and hanging out with his dumbass friends. Kirishima makes sure to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch some slow waves, then leaves once the crowds start to scuffling around the afternoon. Later at night, just when the sunset begins to ripple across the water and the waves start to die down, not entirely, he’ll grab his surfboard and swim until it grows too dark. The waves then are still tall and stocked with power, crashing down onto the shore with loud gushes of wind. Katsuki finds he enjoys surfing at this time of day more so than in the morning. Not because the sunset looks beautiful against the warm hue of his friends skin, not because the red is just as vibrantly blinding as a certain mop of hair, not because of that time of day, the piercing red eyes that smile back at him are the embodiment of the sunset behind them. No, it’s because he’s available. He’s available to ditch life responsibilities and float across the tinted waters with ease and relax the aching muscles on his body. 

 His phone buzzes after walking out of work, arms growing weary from lifting and maneuvering loads of extraneous equipment. He prods at the tough skin on his bicep, feeling the small indents from the scar left there. The Marina isn’t a crazy job, but it gives him enough money to afford a small apartment and food. And, it was located directly in between his house and the sea. Sore arms aren’t too bad if he really squints at the pros of his situation.

Kirishima: I'm heading out now if you want to meet up- the squad’s w me

Of course everyone else would be there. It wasn’t too often that they were able to come together, as of late. Ever since graduating high school, it’s been a struggle of living against the struggle of hanging out and keeping relationships alive. It’s easier for Katsuki to be with Kirishima and Ashido than it is Sero and Denki simply because the two live and work closer.

Katsuki makes way to his old, run down Jeep that he’s used for the past ten years and drives home to pick up his surfboard. They all surfed, it was a known. Him, Kirishima, and Ashido have been since childhood, Sero and Kaminari starting roughly in their teens, but they like to act as if they hadn’t.

He strips out of his clothes and into black swim trunks, grabbing his keys, wallet and surfboard before locking up his front door and hauling the board into the bed. It’s a normal white on the top, but below was a messy splay of oranges, yellows and blacks; reminiscent of explosions upon the bottom of his board. He personally painted it himself back in high school when there wasn’t enough money to professionally have it coated, but the paint and sealant have held well over the years and he’s grown fond of the design. He doesn’t take shit from Kaminari about how “tacky yet sweet” it is that he still has his cringy old design on the board.

Today is just as hot as yesterday, and the day before that, but the increasing breeze drifting onto his glistening skin walking to the beach has him closing his eyes. The sand is warm to the touch, and as his toes sink into the beads they grow cold from the shade. This feeling is one of the few reasons he keeps living in this tourist trap; that and one other. 

His board is propped beneath his arm as he walks to their usual meeting spot. It’s only five, so the sun has a few hours before setting. Many tourists are still perched on the shore, tanning, splashing in the water, etc. It’s disgusting how many of them show up this time of year; leaving their disgusting ass trash all over his beach, having their disgusting ass families crowd his favorite local restaurants. Sure it was warm all year round, but summer was his favorite season and Katsuki didn’t make exceptions for noisy visitors.

“Hey! It’s Bakubro!” The nickname causes his ears to twitch. He spots the four standing amongst one another, boards perched into the sand around them. Kaminari raises his hand after calling out, and the others turn their gaze toward him. 

Katsuki digs the bottom of his board into the soft sand once he’s joined them, and is immediately tackled into a hug by Ashido, pink enveloping his sight. To this date, he has yet to see the girl give up that hair color.

“Get the fuck off me.” He grunts, no malice in his words as he pats her back with a free hand.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks, suck it up.” She laughs, squeezing his shoulders before hopping off and giving space. She was wearing the same wetsuit she always did; white with grey accents, holding pink and purple patterns along the sides of her frame. The suit cuts off mid thigh, but the sleeves make their way down her arms and her thin wrists. It’s a wonder how Ashido’s been able to fit into the swimwear the past years. “Tapping out, your turn Sero.” She chides and Katsuki watches as the tall lanky man steps forward and cautiously taps his fist along his bicep.

“I’ll pass on the hug, I kinda wanna survive for championships.” Sero chuckles but is cut short by the panicked looks Kirishima and Ashido give him. He’s quickly slapped in the head by Kaminari. 

“Dude! What the hell we haven’t even told him yet why couldn’t you just keep shut!” He whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. Katsuki frowns, confused. What championships?

“What the fuck are you guys squirming about?” He aks, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Kirishima walks between their friends and wraps an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder in a warm gesture he’s grown fond of over the years. The guy has no personal space, no matter how hard he’s complained.

“So remember last summer when our city threw a surfing competition in order to raise money towards ocean conservation? Many other local beaches in the district came up to compete as well,” Kirishima begins , tilting his head to glance at him through wet hair framing his face. Katsuki mentally rolls his eyes. The dork couldn’t even manage to wait a few minutes to get in the water. He can feel excess drops of roll off Kirishima’s arm and onto his nape. He suppresses the urge to shiver from the contact.

“Yeah, and it was a nightmare. There was practically no room to do anything.” He interjects.

“Well, Kami found a poster advertising this upcoming competition and thought maybe we should sign up!” Kirishima’s smile is bright, and Katsuki rips himself out from under the arm to register what was just told to him.

“Wait- you want to join the competition? As in go against other surfers for a chance to win what may be some lame ass medal and cash?”

Ashido chips in this time, balling her hands into fists enthusiastically, “Yes! And it’s all individual scoring, so no one can get in your way of victory.”

“There are district teams though? As in people will be identified from the beach they’re coming from. We’d be the Yuuei Beach.” Sero adds. 

Katsuki blinks. This sounded right up his alley in terms of the activity and competition. Of course he wants to pummel any low ranking surfer out of the water, but-

“What’s the entry fee?” His bank account couldn’t handle another divot. Just this past month alone, his AC has died twice and that pulled entirely too much money out of for his comfort. He has saved money, sure, but it’s for emergencies, not being baked alive.

Ashido works at a retail store, not gaining that much more than him, along with Sero. Kirishima is currently at a surf shop, selling and making boards for probably less than it’s worth. Kaminari’s in and out of jobs practically every month, and while he says he had quit or it wasn’t for him, the guy was only half telling the truth. Katsuki has to keep his friends in check because their dumbasses sometimes forget they’re not made of money.

Kaminari flicks his nose with a thumb, “It’s not too bad, considering it is doubling as a charity event.” Katsuki huffs. So it was expensive.

“About 100 bucks each.” Kirishima says, looking over at him with bright eyes; hopeful and eager to see his reaction. Because yeah, it was a decent price. Cheaper than he was expecting.

He furrows his brows and kicks the sand beneath him in thought. It was maybe too cheap. “That’s how much is it for each of us individually to get in? I feel like there’s supposed to be a twist. Are there equipment fees?”

Ashido laughs, “I was the same, but that’s all we have to pay. It would be more if we didn’t already own surfboards, and swim gear-“

Sero nods when Katsuki flicks his gaze to him. His own wetsuit accentuates his long arms and legs and thinly toned body. He was the skinniest of the group, but to Katsuki’s surprise, that didn’t stop him from being a crazy strong surfer. Sero continues, “Yeah. So what do you say? Wanna try it out?”

He did. More so than he’d openly admit. Katsuki holds back his smile in order to keep composure; the last thing he wants is to jump into something stupid. He’ll have to call work and schedule time off. He’ll have to pack his clothes and his board and go on road trips with his friends and it was both exciting and nerve wracking.

Katsuki sighs, dropping an arm and raising the other to his temple, “If you guys make me regret this I’m shipping your asses to China.”

Their eyes widen and simultaneously loud cheers erupt from their cries. Kirishima runs up and hugs him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting his feet off the sand. His cheeks burn from the action and from the full laughs vibrating through Kirishima’s chest. If he could get him to laugh like this everyday he would.

“Hell yeah!” The red head drops Katsuki and fist bumps Kaminari who just got out of a group hug with the other two. All of them are buzzing and Katsuki can’t help but let a smirk form upon his lips.

The sun is growing heavy on the horizon, which means they should probably hop in the water if they want any good waves. He reaches over and pulls his surfboard out of the sand.

“Let’s go you losers.” He barks, smirk never leaving his lips as he marches over to the water. Behind him Kaminari laughs. Foot steps quicken behind him with soft thuds.

“Last one there has to pay for dinner!” He cries, voice shifting into a shriek after sprinting past Katsuki and his grin widens with competition. The fuck does he think he is getting a head start?

Confused and disturbed glances behind them, the four boys push and shove awkwardly with their surfboards in hand to the water, making sure not to trip on one another. Sero lost.

The swells are more tame due to the tidal shift, keeping his distance from the break of waves, Katsuki’s able to lay back on his board and let the water run past his outstretched arms and legs. Kirishima gets the same idea once they’ve drifted further out into the open water and Katsuki can see a small smile still resting on his face.

The others are catching waves up ahead, and from the sounds of it they were running off the high of excitement; Ashido squeals after, Sero he assumes, pulls a bottom turn.

“Thanks for agreeing, Katsuki.” He hears Kirishima say. He hums in response, watching as the sky changes from hues of blue to pinks and oranges. He focuses on that rather than the man beside him, because he knows exactly what will happen if he does; his heart and mind will betray him, and he’ll have to question whether or not going to the competition will be worth his numerous strokes. “How far do you think we’ll get?” the redhead says again, the volume of his question softer, as if he were asking himself.

“We’re going to fucking dominate those amatures, Ei.” Katsuki chuckles airily. If anyone is as good a surfer as him, it was that dork.

“Yeah, we are.” and fuck, he has a weak heart because he tilts his head over to look at Kirishima. He’s giving him the widest smile and Katsuki sucks in air. How can it be legal to smile that way? At him? It does too many things to his emotions that he doesn’t allow. The swells beneath gradually lift them, and they fall down just as gently, as if the water itself were taking a deep breath.

A scream breaks his train of thought and he sits up to see where the noise came from. Ahead, Kaminair is popping his head out of the water with a lopsided grin.

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls. Kirishima laughs at that, and doesn’t stop until the other three have swam up to swap positions. Kaminari looks at him pointedly.

“Let me see you do a flip off a board then, Bakumaster.” 

“Don’t call me that,” He starts, lowering his arms to push forward and catch the next swell, “the day one of us does a flip off a board, it’ll be your shit eating grin that’ll pay because I'll personally handle that myself.”

“Honestly, Kami,” Kirishima says behind him, he too, preparing his board, “how cool would that be? It’s like parkour, but on water.”

“Exactly!” his friends cackle, and Katsuki smirks to himself. They’re all idiots.

   “Wow, there are a lot more people here from our beach than I thought there’d be.” Kirishima says beside him. The two of them are waiting for the rest of their group at the opening resort for the surf competition. It’s been a month since they all consecutively decided to join, and throughout those weeks have been vigorously practicing the required techniques in order to pass the ranks. Standing there today is surreal to Katsuki; his heart beating a thousand miles a minute as the adrenaline of competition surges through his body. Before them, dozens of tents are littered across the sand advertising foods, surf leagues, selling wetsuits and swimsuits, anything that may grab money from eager buyers. In the middle of the mess is a small makeshift stage that holds a live band. Katsuki can hear their loud pop summer music from where he’s standing and wonders how distracting it may be once he’s out in the water. Sprawling in the crowds of surfers and pedestrians are news reporters catching scoops of information before the oncoming competition begins. 

“More than last year.” He says. It’s the peak of the day, the early noon sun is hot and persistent on his skin. He disregarded his tank top hours ago because it rendered useless being soaked in his sweat. Beside him, Kirishima fairs no better, not even coming with a shirt and just in his red striped swim shorts. His hair is loose today, and Katsuki can’t help but want to drag his fingers through it and out of his face.

While the two showed up early, all tents provided for competitors are slammed full, causing them to have to stand out in the bated sun. Their surfboards stand beside them, growing increasingly warm after each passing minute. 

“I really thought they’d be here by now.” Kirishima says anxiously. His body is stiff, and Katsuki gets the idea he’s nervous for more reasons than one. Elbowing his arm, he speaks up over the blaring music and conversations.

“Relax, Ei, if they’re late we’ll just start without them.” It’s not much of a reassurance, but the redhead's already taking in a deep breath. 

“Sorry we’re late! Kaminari slept in and Sero forgot where his wetsuit was and I had to get gas-!” Ashido cries as her and the other two dorks run up to them. 

“Really, Kami? You slept in?” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. Katsuki fumes. The idiot had the audacity to sleep in and risk being late to their first opening competitions as well as stress out Kirishima more than he needed to. 

“Don’t fucking do it again, Pikachu.” He barks. 

 There were 28 surfers entering the water today. Only 8 from Yuuei beach are going to able to advance in the official competitions. The news wasn’t surprising to Katsuki. He spent the past couple of nights reading into the scoring and background of these kind of events. Their next match, only 4 from each beach will be able to advance. All they had to do was meet a certain amount of points during their surf. Pass the heats, move to the next round.

Ashido is first to head into the water out of their group. She’s nervous and threatening to throw up but Kaminari shakes her shoulders and tells her that “you’re going to wipe the smug look off of everyone’s faces when they see you surf. Don’t overthink it, you’re practically a fish!” It musters a giggle out of her, and she hops up with determination.

“Yeah I am!” She grabs her surfboard, the bottom displaying various shades of pink along with tacky patterns only she would care to enjoy, and runs out to the water waving a thumbs up behind her.

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. The past couple of surfers have been good. Their scores ranging from 15 to 17.2 points out of 20. Ashido is accompanied with three other surfers for their heat, and he hopes she catches some good waves in order to boost her general score. Her first wave is smaller than he would’ve hoped, but she’s quick and able to pull in a few carves and cutbacks before doing a roundhouse cutback; her figure eight sharp and stunning. Watching, The allotted thirty minutes given goes by fast, and Katsuki sighs with relief when Ashido sprints out of the water with a solid 18.3. 

“Did you see that??!” She squeals, ramming into their group dripping with ocean water. She ditches her surfboard to the sand before jumping into their open arms. Her cheeks are red from the sun and splays of water, and Katsuki finds he likes this new profound form of excitement. It makes his chest flutter with something unknown. She backs away, though her hand never leaves the small of Sero’s back. “Don’t say a word, I don’t want to jinx anything. I’m looking at you, Hanta.” 

He flushes at the accusation, “I’m not that bad.”

“Sorry man, but you have the worst tendency of blurting what’s on your mind.” Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his nape modestly. They all nod in agreement and he flushed more.

“Okay then. I’ll keep shut.” 

The speakers erupt across the beach announcing the next four names to enter the water. Kirishima and Kaminari are in the same heat this round, which leaves Katsuki to watch from the sand once again. He finds himself biting his nails unconsciously until Ashido slaps his hand with her own, a frown upon her lips.

“Don’t ruin your nails, I don't want to paint a ravaged canvas.” she whines, and he huffs, but eventually caves in and drops his hand. Her gaze softens and she elbows his bicep. He flicks his gaze down irritably. “They’re going to be okay. Kaminari is full of surprises, and you know Kirishima,” she emphasizes the last bit, “he’s amazing. You’re stressing over nothing.”

“I’m not stressing.” Katsuki grumbles. But she was right, he didn’t necessarily have anything to worry about; the two were amazing surfers. He’ll ignore the knowing look Ashido held in her gaze when talking about Kirishima just then because that’s for another time. Ahead, he can spot the mop of red hair contrast with the blues and whites as the figure positions himself for a larger wave swell. Luckily, Kirishima held a top priority and once he claims a wave the other surfers will have to venture off to other ones. 

“That’s a good wave, Kiri should be able to pull some of his trickier stunts on it.” Sero quips, crossing his arms over his chest. Katsuki nods, eyes never wavering from in front of him. The redhead is standing in no seconds after giving himself a boost forward with a thrust of his arms. The water curves, and eventually a beautiful wave begins to crash upon the water just for him. Immediately, Kirishima is wasting no time and pulling his first trick: Nosesirfing. Holding his stance at the tip of his board, he surfs along the crest of the wave for a couple seconds, gaining him a substantial amount of initial points. He slides down the water swiftly and carves, reverses and performs a 360; water splashing around his figure. Ashido cheers beside Katsuki and he smirks, because it was performed fairly perfectly. The wave is coming to a close, and Kirishima lowers his speed to Tube Ride inside the arch of water. It takes skill, not being an intermedial trick, and Katsuki holds his breath waiting to see the splash of red along the water emerge out into the open. After a few seconds, to his and the two dorks beside him’s excitement, Kirishima is able to perform the stunt and glides out past the crashing water, smiling widely. His first wave gives him a 9.8 out of 10 on the scoring board. If he does that again, Katsuki’s sure he’ll pass and move onto the next rounds. 

The other surfers in the heat take their turns catching their points, Kaminari scoring an 8.2 on his first wave and the other two strangers score relatively lower. Their time on the water is winding down, and as Kirishima finishes is second wave with yet another Tube Ride, followed hastily with an Aerial, his points reveal him with a victorious 10 accumulating his complete and final 18.2. His fists are in the air, expression bright as he splashes the water exasperatingly.

“Yes! Way to go Kirshima!” Katsuki can hear Denki shout across the water as he begins his own second wave. Even on his own turn, the blonde finds time to support his friend. He turns his gaze back to Kirishima and smirks when he emerges out of the water, still wearing his widening smile.

Ashido runs forward and hugs him, causing them to wobble from the lack of balance. Thankfully, she lets go just in time for Kirishima to compose himself. His cheeks and body are flush from the adrenaline, and he rubs the back of his nape.

“Thanks! But we gotta watch Kami! He’s on now!” He calls, turning around to watch their friend finish his heat with a 17.9. Not too long after, the electric blonde is running up and joining them in a group hug. 

“You guys were fucking amazing.” Katuski chuckles, clapping his hands together with Kirishima’s after they’ve divided. His face is warm from the sun, from the heat, from the surge of excitement and from the soft, damp hands holding his own tightly. Kirishima’s smile hasn’t wavered since he’s left the water, and Katsuki wonders if his cheeks are sore.

“Thanks man!” he laughs, and from the looks of it, the redhead’s still running off of his incitement.

“I think they just called Sero’s name.” Kaminari says to the side, and they turn their gaze to the large screen towards the center of the beach that holds the scorings and names of surf heats. Sure enough, Hanta Sero appears in bold letters across the screen. 

He gives them a thumbs up as he walks off holding his surfboard by his side. Katsuki knows from watching him practice that he’s been working on the Superman since his longer body physique allows him to maneuver the trick easier, but will he attempt it today and risk losing points? It requires a relatively larger waves to guide the speed and height up and off of the crest. To his surprise, Sero doesn’t end up performing the trick, instead focusing on more longboard derived skills that place him with a score of 17.6. 

That leaves him to enter the water. His name isn’t on the screen yet, but he can feel the sizzling beneath his skin in anticipation. The next heat will begin soon, and the chance his name will show up etched itself into his gut in the form of hunger. Hunger to win, hunger to go out there and compete, hunger to excel above the rest.

“Your name was just called for the next heat, Bakugou.” Ashido says and he smirks wickedly. Finally.

“Oh no, he’s got that creepy look on his face when he gets over competitive. He’s gone from Bakubro to Bakuscary.” Kaminari steps behind his board to shield himself as Katsuki grabs his own firmly. Reassuring chants echo behind him as he surges forward. 

The water is warm when he initially steps in; he paddles further out into the ocean and it shifts cooler to the touch. His ears twitch with the realization that the music from the beach isn’t as deafening from where he sits. He can hear his thoughts more clearly, which normally fairs well but he spots Kirishima back at their spot on be beach jumping, pumping his fists into the air out to him, and his chest flutters. He was too enthusiastic sometimes.

The waves today are good. Better for the completion but even better for him in executing more high level skills. A particular swell catches his eye and he’s immediately taking action, dipping his arms in the water to push himself out to snatch the break. As the form manifests, he Carves and glides up, clutching the surfboard with one as he leans back and does a Alley-Oop. He lands with a slap, and his legs buzz from the impact. Any noise he heard earlier is gone. Mind blank, his breathing is shallow and he hyper focuses on his next trick, doing a Cutback then Snapping against the current. He only has a couple of seconds before the wave dies out, so he bites his lip and thinks screw it; there’s an opportunity and he isn’t going to miss his chance. Engulfed under a bridge of water, he Tube Rides before dashing out and Kickflipping his board. His chest heaves as he exhales sharply, riding out the remaining push of wave. It happened all too quickly and he doesn’t spare a glance at the scoreboard to see what his first wave gave him. He knows it was a higher number.

The second wave, to his luck, is just as powerful. Katsuki spares no time performing the same tricks, give or take a few and his mind is still in a haze once he steps onto the hot sand. 

The wind is knocked out of his lungs, his board flying forward and he plummets back down into the sand with a loud thud. He groans as his chest is squeezed unbelievably tight, and his hands urgently grasp onto warm skin. Opening his eyes, his face heats immensely as he stares up into Kirishima’s. His breathing is rugged, unlike Katsuki’s being held in his chest, and he’s smiling down at him. Bold at first, but it fades into one more fond. Eyes never leave one another’s until it’s cut short, as fast as it came, with three bodies throwing themselves atop of theirs and Katsuki groans once again.

“Jesus- the fuck- I can’t breathe you assholes! G-get off-“ He wheezes, retracting his arms and planting them over Kirishima’s bare chest in an attempt to lift everyone. It fails and he’s left buried under 300 pounds with burning cheeks.

“We did it you guys! We’re going into the next rounds!” Ashido squeals into his ear and he pauses. They made it.

He gapes, “Holy fuck.”

“You topped with a solid 19 points, Bakubro!” Kaminari laughs, making an effort to detach himself from the pile. Ashido slides out beneath him. “We’re going to Shigaraki Beach!” 

Sero extends a hand to help Kirishima off his feet, who then looks back down to a stunned Katsuki laying in the sand. He opens and closes his mouth, failing to conjure any words because holy fuck they’re all advancing to the next set of rounds-

He takes Kirishima’s hand and smirks, turning to face his fervent friends. The sun is still hot beating down on his skin, on the sand beneath his toes, on the hand intertwining into his own, on the smiles and crinked noses displaying between them. But it didn’t matter.

They made it.

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

Tags! 

@mina-ashido-ismywife @hubajoob @christa-mina @kitkat-the-muffin @complete-utter-trash23 @justshipmeoffplease @sedxkid1 @downtherabbitholethatisanime @cooliopumpkin @fuchsiari

[utgleekshq]

Have you seen Marley Rose on campus? Rumor has it that the twenty year old sophomore from Hugo, Oklahoma was born on March 25th and is currently studying Music Composition in the College of Fine Arts. Her friends will tell you that she’s AMBITIOUS and CREATIVE, but they also say she can be CAUTIOUS and OVER EMOTIONAL, so be careful. Her endgame is Hudrose and fortunately for us, her role is CLOSED and unavailable for auditions.

Marley grew up in a very loving home. Despite her father abandoning their family when she was a young child, Marley never felt her life was lacking in love. Her mother was always her best friend and biggest supporter. From a very young age, Marley could often be heard singing along with the radio and instead of taking it for what it was, a young girl just having fun with some of her favorite songs, Marley’s mother saw it as a gift and natural talent that had to be nurtured. While more often than not they were living paycheck to paycheck, Marley’s mother would do her best to squirrel away a little extra money for voice lessons in Oklahoma City. At least once a month, they’d make the three hour drive to OKC for her lessons and they quickly became the highlight of Marley’s memories growing up. Despite gaining so much pleasure from singing and performing, Marley wasn’t a very outgoing child. She was quieter than most kids in her small school and found it difficult to make friends because of it. It wasn’t until middle school that Marley really began branching out and making new friends.

With her mother’s encouragement, Marley auditioned for the middle school talent show. It wasn’t really an audition because everyone who auditioned got a spot, but it was the first time all of her peers got to see her sing and began seeing her as more than the mousy girl who never spoke. Soon the quiet girl became a bit more popular than she knew, especially among the performing arts students. Soon, Marley had built herself a web of friends and support. Wherever she went, she always had a friend on her arm. She had never felt lonely in the town. Even when drama had formed, there was always a way for her friends to pull through. Marley felt like she was on cloud nine and nothing could bring her down. 

High school was a breeze for Marley. She had her music and her friends, her mom, and eventually started working part time at a local diner to help her mom out with some of the bills. When it came time to start looking at colleges, Marley knew she couldn’t leave her mother completely behind. She applied to the University of Texas in Austin. It was a bigger and more liberal city than their small hometown, something which she craved, but it was also only a short five hour car ride from Hugo, Oklahoma, meaning Marley could visit her mother every weekend if she wanted to. The only hiccup in her plan was money. While she was able to get financial aid to cover most of her schooling, Marley and her mother still had to pay for all of her living expenses, including textbooks. Determined to take the burden off her mother though, Marley began working at the diner full-time during the summer after graduation to try and earn some money herself.

Coming into college, Marley was overwhelmed with how much there was to do and how many options there were. The campus was beautiful, the people were friendly, and Marley felt like this is where she was meant to be. It was difficult, of course, learning how to balance her school work and her small jobs - like at the tutoring center, and even a small gig in the cafeteria - but it was something she was excited to do. And now that she’s in her sophomore year, she’s looking to branch out and make new friends… and maybe even meet Mr. Right, wherever he might be

SECRET:

During the summer after high school and before college, Marley started working full time at the diner and despite her mother’s assurances that she’d be able to help out with all of her college expenses, Marley knew how much work it would take for her mother to come up with that type of money so she decided to take care of it herself. Of course, her working at the diner would only allow her to gain so much, but thankfully, she wound up finding a man that was willing to take care of everything. A wealthy man that had been traveling to Hugo on business had sat in the diner and, with it being a particularly slow night, Marley was able to spend more time conversing with him - at first it was innocent, with them talking about the weather and where he was from, but eventually he began to tell her he was beautiful. And their interaction wouldn’t be the last, as he kept coming to the diner every day for the next week until, eventually, they began dating. Even though he’s much older than her, he hasn’t pressured her to do anything she isn’t comfortable with, and he’s willing to pay for any and all expenses she may have. So while she may tell her mom she’s got a small tutoring job - which she does - that she uses to send money back home to, the truth is? Most everything is already covered by her very generous boyfriend.

CONNECTIONS:

Blaine Anderson: With Oklahoma being one of the university’s biggest rivals, Marley had been a bit apprehensive about being on campus and revealing the fact that she came from Okhlahoma, but the first person she met at the freshman weekend definitely helped to assuage her concerns - and that was Blaine. With him having relatives that lived all the way in California - something she thought he was brave for, because she couldn’t imagine being that far away from her mother - she felt a bit better about being an outsider and the two quickly struck up a bond. With a shared love of music, Blaine was the one to convince her to try out for the Glee club at the university, and she’s glad she has someone else there she can vent to when the self-appointed captain of the club goes on one of her tangents. Ultimately, she’s glad she’s got a friend in Blaine.

Rachel Berry: Though this is her first year rooming with Rachel, it definitely wasn’t her first time meeting her. Having met the young ingenue after auditioning for the Glee club, Marley couldn’t help but find Rachel a little… abrasive. She was nice, sure, and her ambition was something she heavily admired, but the fact that Rachel was a bit quick to offer constructive criticism over every performance was a bit too much. As far as she was concerned, the Glee club was just something she could have fun with while she focused on her studies and kept her vocals sharp - she didn’t think that the club was the end all and be all that Rachel was making it out to be. Still, being her roommate wasn’t too horrible - apart from the chore wheel, anyway - and she figures that maybe this’ll give them a chance to really get to know one another. 

Sam Evans: When Blaine had suggested that he had a friend that he wanted Marley to meet, she was eager to meet them. After all, if Blaine liked them, she was sure she’d like them, too. And when she met Sam, her suspicions were confirmed. He was nice, he was goofy, and he was sweet. And the way that he cared about his family was something that had Marley feeling a kinship with Sam. The two have an easy friendship, one that can stand alone without Blaine - so that they are able to do something with each other without it feeling awkward - and she’s glad to consider him a friend. After all, when she had first come to the college, she had been unsure how quickly, if ever, she’d find friends given the fact that she knew she could be a little introverted.

Quinn Fabray: College was something that scared her, but not because of the course load. No, what scared her the most was the Freshman Fifteen. Gaining weight was something that scared her, as she had seen how it could spiral out of control, so getting fit was pretty important to her. Except… when she went to the gym, she didn’t know where to start. Looking around, she saw the first girl she could find and quickly went to her, asking her for advice - she just didn’t know that it would be the captain of the cheerleading team. Thankfully, though, Quinn didn’t seem to mind giving her tips and the two were able to exchange numbers so that if Marley needed any more help, she could go to Quinn - and from there, Marley had a trainer in Quinn and it’s something that Marley is utterly grateful for.

Mercedes Jones: At Blaine’s behest, she joined the Glee club and, because of her obvious talent, was quickly brought in. But what she didn’t expect was for her to wind up getting a mentor for the club, but she definitely didn’t mind it. Mercedes was kind and sweet and undeniably talented - to the point where Marley was surprised she wasn’t in Los Angeles or New York - and Marley was glad that she had a mentor in Mercedes. And even now when Marley is now a sophomore, if she needs help perfecting a song or trying to find the perfect piece, she’ll go to Mercedes for advice - though the advice she goes to isn’t limited to just around the club, either.

Santana Lopez: At one point, Marley decided that she wanted to branch out of her comfort zone and to do that, she wound up rushing for the sorority that Santana was a part of. Part of rushing, though, included getting a big ‘sister’ to watch over you and make sure that if you needed help learning how to be a sister of the sorority, you would get it - and Santana was hers. While she had heard rumors of Santana’s vicious nature, she was surprised to see that Santana wasn’t as bad as the rumors had led her to believe and though she didn’t wind up going through with joining the sorority - not because she wasn’t accepted, but just because she realized it wasn’t for her (and it would cost her a lot more than what she could realistically pay) - her friendship with Santana is one she takes to heart because she figures that if someone is able to see the kindness hidden in Santana, it must mean a lot.

Noah Puckerman: One of the first jobs that she wound up getting on campus, that she still keeps to this day, is at the tutoring center and when she had first applied, they told her that there was a high chance that she would wind up tutoring members of the football team… She just hadn’t expected that she’d be assigned as the tutor to Noah Puckerman. Already by that time, he had already had a reputation on campus and she expected him to be just like every other fuck boy jock - but he wasn’t. He was actually sweet and even if he did flirt with her, constantly, and call her things like beautiful… she could see that his reputation didn’t do him justice. And from the little that she wound up getting to see of him, the more that she found herself liking him. She knows it’s stupid, to have a crush on a guy that flirts with anything that moves but… she’s a romantic, and she feels like maybe she and Puck are a bit like Haley and Nate from One Tree Hill. And that maybe, just maybe, they’re MFEO like Naley is.

Sebastian Smythe: Another job that Marley took on was as a librarian’s assistant, and though the job was just to help someone if they were lost or if they needed help finding a resource, Marley took it a step further. Making sure that the people that were studying were hydrated and fed, she’d bring by proteins bars and waters and would set them at their tables and if she noticed that they were there for awhile, she’d even caffeinate them by bringing them coffee. One in particular was Sebastian, someone she recognized that when he was there, he was there for awhile. Bringing him a coffee as she did everyone that was there for more than a couple of hours, she thought nothing of the action until the next day when Sebastian brought her a coffee and told her what his order was - something that had her smiling. While she wasn’t helping out for the praise or clout, it was nice to see that her actions weren’t going unnoticed and with Sebastian’s preferred order written down, she made sure to give him a piping hot cup of coffee… sometimes ready for him even before he even gets there, as she’s learned his routine.

[studentdiaries]

back to school

i know, i know, i’m a little bit early. it’s all good, i have anxiety, i plan ahead constantly. i figured i’d share some of my plans to prepare myself for heading back to school.

1. fix your sleep schedule

for school i wake up at 6:30, in the summer i wake up at 12. and recently i decided to fuck that up even more by pulling an all-nighter and just, in general, screwing up my sleep schedule. i’ll need about a month to fix all this damage, but in general, you should start reacquainting yourself with your school schedule about two weeks before you have to head back.

2. figure out your note keeping system

i’m switching things up this year, and i won’t be using the binder system i’ve had all throughout high school. it’s simply to heavy for my walk to and from school. instead, i’ll be using a filing folder, and keeping loose leaf paper, as well as the week’s lessons in there, and once the week is over, i’ll transfer my notes to the binder system at home, which should limit the weight i carry. also, this’ll force me to have better organization, and hopefully make weekly review easier. just as a rule of thumb, refreshing your note keeping system is something you should do annually, at the start of a new year or even before a new semester; you know what’s been working and what hasn’t been.

3. gather breakfast ideas

i have about ten minutes scheduled in my morning routine during the school year for breakfast. and about five of those minutes are spent figuring out what to eat. i want to gather simple breakfast ideas that i can test out now, so i don’t waste time deciding what to eat. this just, in general, makes mornings less of a hassle and can help make sure you’re getting a good start to the day.

4. take stock of your supplies

i need a lunchbag and highlighters, my previous ones are no longer able to function, so i need to replace them. i don’t, however, need new pencils, i have plenty. doing an inventory check can really help prevent buying duplicates of something you thought you didn’t have.

5. create achievable goals

this year is my final year of high school, and then i’m off to university, most of my goals centre around applications and just graduating. but there are other things i know i need to do. embracing study habits for one. i’m hoping to do so by staying in the library after school instead of walking home right away because i know i can’t get work done as effectively at home. i’ll also be doing a review for exams all throughout the year, instead of the day before, by creating flashcards and mindmaps for each days lesson. set a general goal, then add the steps you’ll need to take to achieve it.

6. check your courses

i’m dropping out of physics because i don’t need to be taking it and it will give me a spare instead of a full course load. i need to talk to my guidance counsellor before school starts because of it. as well, i like to make sure i’m in the correct classes and that my schedule is as balanced as possible. some schools may not allow this for regular students, mine does. make sure you’re taking what you need to take and what will allow you to succeed.

7. put dates in your planner

my school offers a tentative list of events going on through the year, with set exam and break times. i like to keep track of these, and setting them in my planner makes it easier to see how my year will play out. if your school doesn’t offer this, check out past years scheduling so that you have a general feel for how your year will go.

these are just some of the things i’m doing to ensure this year goes smoothly for me. let me know what y’all are doing too!

[borrowedfeathers]

It's almost 4 am and even though it's the weekend I know I'm risking getting nagged at by my well-meaning friends but I really do have to say...Stone Butch Blues really is the book everyone says it is.

I'm only a third into it but I'm amazed by how quick a read it is, even more so because the text in my copy is really tiny. (Yes, I'm lucky enough to have a paper copy - I found it at the LGBT Resource Center book sale at Out!Raleigh a couple summers ago, and yes, if you're a local friend, I can and will lend it to you once I'm done if you want!) In some respects it feels weird to call it a word like "lovely" since it's quite a brutal book and merits most if not all common trigger warnings related to gender, sexuality and abuse, but as so many others have mentioned already, there's not much like it when it comes to the purest form of validation and catharsis.

I admittedly was almost afraid to read it because OCD bullshit was like "this'll prove that you're not really butch enough!" but even in the early part of the book, and I'd heard it only gets more so later, Leslie Feinberg really goes to great lengths to highlight the diversity of the butch experience and refute pernicious stereotypes that still rear their ugly heads today nearly 30 years after it came out. Like take the "butches have to be stoic" idea - ze viciously deconstructs it and doesn't pull any punches in describing the kind of horrors that necessitate stoicism as a survival mechanism, and how that's never an easy load to bear. I'm lucky I live in a world that doesn't require that degree of self-protection from butches, at least not to the same extent, but I can still see myself in the book. Not in any kind of traditional way per se but I can really feel that there's a consistent theme of making butchness your home in a way that suits you rather than making yourself fit a mold.

Basically Leslie Feinberg was a goddamn hero and this book makes me feel like ze's looking out for me in some way.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Hey just so you know your art is really shitty. I am talking about the one you did about book hiccup.

Oh you sweet, sweet summer chiiiiild!!!

I was drawing “shit” like this when I was sixteen - ten years ago! Ten years ago, and I could draw like this!

So why would I care what someone thinks of a small, five minute, no-erase doodle of mine? ^.^ 

Honestly, I’m in the middle of an artistic euphoria phase right now. Like, I’m legit having so much fun with visual arts - more than I have for years - and I’m delighted. Thank you so much for giving me the chance to talk about this latest exciting experience in my life! Maybe this’ll inspire some others as well? Art has been a highlight of the last few months, and even getting going on the topic now, chatting with you, is getting me happy and inspired and ready to tear out the next sheet of paper for a new bout of creativity. I’m trying my best not to start drawing NOW because of the topic you’ve brought up!

I’m working on proportions and muscle groups and more dynamic poses and figuring out digital art and testing new traditional art mediums and it’s just been a BLAST of creativity and exploration. I’m trying to figure out new styles for myself, branching WAY beyond my childhood focus of photorealism, into everything down to anime-style personalities. I’ve even checked out 3D modeling, dudes! I’m planning on exploring with cityscapes and character design and shape and color and... guys... guys... it’s literally such an exciting time for me right now. 

Art is AMAZING fun!!! What a blessing it is to create something wholly new, with the stamp of our personality, out of complete nothingness? I turned the nothingness of a piece of paper into my personality and a work of creativity. DUDE THAT IS SO AWESOME!!! Humans are so amazing in our ability to endlessly create. I think creating is one of the greatest powers and blessings our species has to offer.

Being a visual artist by hobby isn’t about improving. It isn’t even about being good. It’s about having fun. My wonderful dragon-loving friends, don’t for a second think that your artwork needs to be to some sort of quality, because it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. If you want to improve, that’s awesome, and I’m rooting for you to have some exciting experiences of self-discovery and growth. That can be an exciting time, to go through growth, and it’s well-worth your commendable, diligent efforts. But it’s also 100% fair if you go into a hobby without desiring to improve. You don’t need to improve - you’re not in some competition where your rent’s pay hinges on drawing - you just need to enjoy yourself. There is nothing shameful about “shitty” art - it’s in fact one of the coolest things you can do, because it engages your mind and your creativity and your own unique stamp of human beauty that no other soul can give. And if you share it, you’re sharing a part of yourself, and we get to see the beautiful treasure you and your mind are!

Some of my favorite things I’ve ever seen are stick people. DRAW your stick people! Do it all!!!

I’m so thankful for everyone who shares their art on tumblr in the fandom community. Not just the people who do polished digital work, but everyone. People who are starting to figure out what a tablet is. People who haven’t touched a colored pencil in ten years. People who draw five minute scratches. People who spend thirty-seven hours on a painting. You contribute to the world of fandom, the beautiful world of fandom. Together we celebrate what it is we mutually love about our fandoms, and make this a community in which creativity and celebration and positivity is resplendent. It’s because of people like you - ALL of you - that you build this incredible environment.

I’m in the middle of a phase where I think I’m going to be making rapid advances in my artwork soon. Maybe if there’s something really cool I’ll share it with ya’ll! There’s a 50% chance I might be getting a new art tablet soon, which will unfetter all the struggles I’ve had with digital art preventing me from improving there. And there’s so many ideas I have! Guys, there’s so many ideas! So much art to put down and explore and hgghghghhhh! I’m excited.

Of course this is all on top of my other hobbies. I love being a jack of all trades and master of none. Every day’s something new to explore. I’m a conlanger and I make my own languages. I’m a creative writer and I’m planning on charging deep into a single original novel that I hope I can publish. I’m a chronic worldbuilder who loves thinking about everything from the geographic history of the world to the culture’s technology to what the cities look like to the individual culture’s elements - be it gestures, taboo language, courting rituals, what have you! I’m a music composer and I even got a Bachelor’s of Music in Composition; I’ve learned how to play over a dozen instruments; I’m itching to make covers and suites of material I love. I used to make gifs and I still miss it - maybe I’ll get back into the swing of it sometime? I made one AMV and maybe I’ll make another - I’ve always loved video editing (I did Lego stop motion stuff in the junior high, after all). And of course I want to keep writing fandom meta for all the stories that have touched my heart, be it Fullmetal Alchemist or How to Train Your Dragon or Voltron: Legendary Defender or Mass Effect or anything else. I’m hoping that I’ll get some good bursts of activity on cosplay, too! I need to work on my sewing - 2019 shall be the perfect year for it, don’t you think?

Life’s so exciting and rich and beautiful. There’s so much creativity to be had. So much to do. So much to explore.

And who gives a flipping rat’s fart if I’m not The Best(TM) of the universe? XD That’s not the true reason to create ANYTHING!

I’ve got a fuckton of weaknesses in my artistic pursuits and that doesn’t make me an ounce less awesome. Having weaknesses makes my artistic life BETTER. I honestly believe it; they make me happy. I’m excited that I have weaknesses in my visual arts abilities because it means I’m going through this period of growth. Where would be my fun if I were perfect already? I’m having a blast not because my art is perfect, but because it’s IMPERFECT. I both like what I can do already and I know ALL the areas where it needs improving - allowing me new areas to dive further and reach new goals. It’s giving me life goals, trajectory, and celebrations every time I draw something new and better than what I made last month. 

A childish, petty, and honestly rather uncreative insult isn’t going to make me blink. I know how amazing I am. I’m a powerhouse, powerfully creative, Renaissance man level talented bonfire who can do everything from advanced level linguistic scientific study to composing contemporary classical art music. I know what my strengths are and what my weaknesses are. I’ve got great weaknesses, and that’s totally chill!

I’m sorry, friend, but the only thing your message does is show how much of a naive child you are. You ignorantly think that a laughably uninteresting, child-level insult is going to affect an adult who is confident and grown in themselves. You don’t know your audience. Even if you were right that my art is shit - which it’s not - it doesn’t matter to me. My identity is more than one cute doodle with Hiccup and Toothless. It’s a shame because I’m sure you have so much positive beauty you could contribute to this world. Why waste your time with this, when it literally could not be more of a waste of your time?

What positive creativity have you done?

I encourage us all to contribute to the beauty of our community. Let’s take this moment to be an inspiration point. Let’s create together. Let’s give people reasons to smile. Let’s share posts we love and talk about why we love them. Let’s draw and write and sing and dance our way through what we love. Let’s give positive feedback on the fanfiction people wrote for us for free. Let’s send compliments to one another - that’s a legitimate form of creation and it’s one of the best. Let’s let our personalities sparkle. Kindness is so awesome. You all are so awesome.

I’m so thankful to live in a community like this, where every day I’m bombarded with incredible magic - the magic you all have created.

As for my Hiccup drawing, the HTTYD book community has a cool event going on celebrating the Twelve Days of Doomsday. I encourage you all to participate and enjoy Cressida Cowell’s works with me!!!

Who knows? Maybe I’ll have time for a few more Hiccup doodles in the next dozen days!

[holdmetightordont-2]

hi :0

i have 300 pages to read, and yet here i am, remaking my tumblr. yep.

hi, my name’s ray. i’m 23 and i started my first year of grad school two weeks ago. i already want to die. 

i’m not sure if this’ll be more of a personal or fandom blog yet. we’ll see. it might be a combination of things. i’m not bothered about followers or anything like that, so there’s no real incentive for me to make this blog known for a certain entity. i do want this blog to be somewhat organized though, so i’ll make sure i tag everything. ya’ll can blacklist any tags you don’t want to see.

i suppose the purpose of this post is to introduce myself, and sort of...blog about my first few weeks of grad school.

i’m tempted to reveal every single aspect of my life, as i do on my personal twitter account. i’ll try to be as appropriate as i can, in case someone irl finds me. i do think i’ll be somewhat recognizable, based on my research and interests, but that’s alright.

based on my username, you could guess that i am/was a big fan of fall out boy. i still listen to their music, but less so these days. about a year ago, i rewatched inception, one of my favorite movies in high school, for the fist time in years. after 8 years, i became obsessed and was pleasantly surprised to see that the fic comm is still around, churning out arthur/eames fics. it’s fantastic. i uh...love inception so much that i...did this...

i had it finished right before i moved for grad school. i’m pretty pleased with it :)

originally, i planned out a somewhat large-scale tattoo with my tattoo artist -- i wanted matching tattoos on my ribs of a rose garden, firstly because they’re one of my favorite flowers, and it would symbolize beast/highlight, the first kpop band i ever loved. then...in march, all that shit came out about junhyung -- who is a piece of shit, by the way, and i no longer really interact with fandom because of all the people who still support him -- so that obviously was called out. tbh, i’m so glad that all was revealed in march, bc i was supposed to get it in may. i would have really considered a cover up if i had gotten it before he was called out, tbh.

anyway! after i got the first half of the inception tattoo, i went to study khmer for the summer out of state. it was...an interesting summer, partly because of the teachers. khmer was h a r d. i hated the state i was in. i actually applied to go that school for my MA and i’m glad i made the decision not to go back in april.

after that, i returned home for a bit, finished off the tattoo, and promptly moved to...paradise. i’m trying to be vague here, but you can probably guess where i moved. it’s just beautiful here. the culture is so rich. i’m surrounded by such good food. i’m very excited about the classes i’m taking, the people in my program (anthropology) are so nice. i’m so so so so excited for my research.

but i’m lonely. i’ve made a few friends, but i feel kind of excluded from the group that formed in my cohort. i can tell that they hang out more together, and haven’t really invited me (though i haven’t sought them out either). i’m just kinda bummed about that. but it’s okay, i’ll make friends. 

i’m also suffering from health issues...i’ve had a hives viral infection for the past two weeks. it’s been fucking hell. nothing really helps except for the steroid i’ve taken the past few days. it just really fucking sucks. i’m itchy all the time, especially at night. in fact, i’m itchy right now, and i’m kind of glad i’m doing the all-nighter since i can’t go to sleep with this anyway. i hope this doesn’t last too much longer.

i fucked up real bad, y’all. i still have that 300 pages to read and weeks worth of khmer to do. my macbook actually broke yesterday, but thankfully i have my old one with me. it’s not a good excuse, really. i’ve been lazy. i hope i can better manage my time this upcoming week. maybe limit all-nighters to once every two weeks, or even better, once a month? that’d be nice.

on another note, i’ve been trying to cook more recently since a bunch of my kitchen supplies finally came in. i made a japanese curry with potatoes, carrots, and kabocha yesteday and it’s pretty good!! i wish i’d gotten a spicier roux though. it’s kind of a miracle that i like it so much, because i almost never eat vegetables. i guess the trick is to simmer the veggies until they’re super soft and absorb all the flavors. 

i also found recipes for a turmeric pad thai, “golden” (turmeric) broth noodles, and egg kimbaps that i’m excited to try!! there’s a small japanese grocery store that’s in walking distance from my dorm, but it doesn’t have all the ingredients i need. i also still need to order a mini fridge. but it’s been working out so far!! also want to make carne asada burritos!! i want to make 3 for this week and have the other 3 frozen so i can sorta meal prep throughout the month. i bought a meat thermometo and i’m just. so excited. because i have never made proper steak before, like the kind that’s rare or medium rare? it’ll be great.

okay, i think this is a good place to stop. it’s nice writing about everything here, cohesively. i’m a bit of a rambler on twitter (not that i’m not here, clearly), but i like that i have all my thoughts in a single place, even if there’s no one to read it. 

wish me luck on my readings! -ray

[aaeoluss]

100 Years Excerpt: Part 2.03

Anna glanced up from her book as Max entered the room. Greeting him, she put it face down on the side of her arm chair, which he had brought into the room about a month ago, just for her. It was cushy and had a floral pattern, and was placed right across from his window. It had quickly become her favorite chair in the house. 

Max shut the door behind him, and leaned on the wall. “You should be more careful. Anyone could just walk in and see you.”

“And what are they going to do about it?” She challenged playfully. Max shrugged; evidently he had no answer to that. Even though he was 12, Anna took the victory. She felt a bit guilty, as she knew he was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. “Anyhow. So what’s going on in the world?” Every morning, Max would go downstairs and listen to the radio, so sometimes Anna would ask him for a summary. She could very easily go listen as well, and sometimes she did, but she preferred to just take the highlights.

“The groundhog saw his shadow this morning, so apparently we’re going to have more winter.” Max shook his head, but his tone indicated that he clearly didn’t put too much weight into what the groundhog thought. “It’s a shame. It’s damn cold out there.” 

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Max! You shouldn’t say that. You’re just little.” 

Max gave a small huff. “Oh, that’s what my parents said too.” He sat down on his bed. “Anyway, I’d hate to see any more winter.”

“I haven’t been outside in forever,” she said, almost wistfully, but not quite. “What’s it like out there?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know. Cold. Real snowy.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about it. Aren’t boys supposed to like snow?” Anna teased. 

He hesitated, and his tone turned a bit more serious. “I… I don’t have any snow boots, and my coat is too small .But, I listen to the news. I know now isn’t the time to ask for new ones.” 

She pressed her lips together. How, even, to respond to that? He was so little, he shouldn’t have to think about things like that. “I didn’t think about that. I guess it will be better in the summer, then,” she said weakly. “How long is the walk to school?”

“Not so bad. Maybe about fifteen minutes. I know some people have to walk double that. Nobody wants to pay for gas, I guess.” 

“The radio said they were up.” 

“Damn, this sucks.” They both knew she wasn’t going to reprimand him again. Max flopped down onto his back. “It’s been months, and it’s still all anyone talks about. I wonder how long this’ll go on.” 

taglist: @thatwritxrgirl @confunderewrites @pat-writes @ellfewritings @fluffythewritingplant @clarissalopeswriter 

[petrolstationflowers]

The Wanderings of Chase - 15

It all begins the same, in a flurry of sparkles. 

Her final trait is Equestrian, which is more strictly planned than usual. Chase knows what she wants now, after years of careful observation, study, and two small cats that crept into her home one winter’s evening. 

She wants to be a vet. There isn’t one in Twinbrook, and since the Equestrian Centre opened up, there’s a need for one locally, especially considering you’ve got to travel all the way to Appaloosa Plains for the nearest one. She can do it, she thinks. But first, she needs to do something important. 

Her mother of course, offers up the usual fare, because her cousin is roughly the same age and that colour suits you, sweetheart, but Chase didn’t spend every spare day she didn’t have to study just to end up with Lilly Mae’s discarded dress. Instead she took every odd job she could, the small stint of work experience or fixing the school’s boiler, just enough for this. Twinbrook might not have much, but the stylists are pretty good, treating her body like molten liquid to be molded, like it was precious. 

Designer. The words taste like mint and sugar and raspberry on her tongue. De-sig-ner, three syllables that are the magic words into a world she’s never been allowed into before. There’s no longer the careful game of keeping too small shoes fitting for as long as they can, or clumsily mending her green winter hoodie with blue thread pilfered from a stray kitchen drawer, because she’s kitted out for everything now. Maybe, this’ll make the difference.

and oh diamond she hopes so 

She can fit everything important she owns in one ragged suitcase, because her budget only stretched so far. Her summer clothes, her new, frighteningly adult pyjamas, and a green dress she bought to quash that voice that says she’ll never get to wear it. Her workout clothes, because a new outfit and highlights can only go so far in changing a body, and proper winter clothes, so for the first time, she’ll feel warm when the snow starts to fall. 

Her Twinbrook State University flag, because school pride is never a bad thing, and her first riding textbook, squashed safely into her brand new backpack. Her old bear, because where she goes, he goes. The family portrait gets stashed in there, too, because she doesn’t want to forget her roots, she just wants to grow. 

And as a new autumn morning breaks, after a eight hour drive in an ancient camo pickup truck, she’s finally, finally made it. 

[nickmacleanjazz]

Halloween is coming up and that means another year of Brownman's MICHAEL JACKSON HALLOWEEN THRILLER! Every year the Brownman Electryc Trio filters their electric jazz madness through the entirety of Michael Jackson's iconic Thriller record and every year it is a party of incalculable fun! I've been privilged to have been their '+1' keyboardist for 7 years (this'll be my 8th!) and every year these shows end up being one the highlights of my year. This year we're touring KITCHENER, TORONTO, & GUELPH, so get your tickets while you can and join us for the madness! ---- From Press Release: Acclaimed jazz / hip-hop trumpet player BROWNMAN ALI will once again lead an all-star quartet through his popular annual HALLOWEEN THRILLER concert. The much lauded BROWNMAN ELECTRYC TRIO + 1 will perform the entire Michael Jackson "Thriller" recording, interpreted and re-worked in the Miles Davis-esque fashion this multiple National Jazz Award winning improviser has become known for.  In addition to the quartet performing Thriller top to bottom, other MJ classics will be featured through the night for this unique Halloween jazz party series.  Costumes and Thriller video dance moves encouraged. ---- 3 shows, 3 cities, 3 electric-jazz Halloween parties! KITCHENER

Sat-Oct-29, 10pm @ Sugar Run www.eventbrite.ca/e/435740701167 TORONTO Sun-Oct-30, 7pm @ Drom Taberna https://www.facebook.com/events/618076243184872/ GUELPH Mon-Oct-31, 7pm@ Royal City Studios www.eventbrite.ca/e/435757772227 ---- HALLOWEEN THRILLER 2022 BAND (BET + 1) :: Brownman Ali - electric trumpet :: Nick Maclean - keyboards :: Dwayne Livingstone - electric bass :: Justin McHugh - drums ---- This show features as it's "+1"acclaimed keyboardist NICK MACLEAN, a rising star in Toronto's jazz community, signee to Brownman's Browntasauras Records label & winner of 8 Global Music Awards, standing alongside 2 of Toronto's most in demand musicians : DWAYNE LIVINGSTONE on bass (from Jamaica& now highly sought after in the electric-jazz scene), and JUSTIN McHUGH on drums (a top-shelf session musician who impressive abilities span multiple genres), all under the direction of modern jazz trumpet iconoclast BROWNMAN ALI.

"Delving so deeply into that record always leaves us speechless", states Ali. "Michael birthed so many incredible tunes over the years, but his collaborations with Quincy Jones on Thriller has to be one of the most towering musical achievements in pop music ever. Using that brilliant material every year on Halloween, as jump-offs for what we do makes for a party that's both danceable, but still rooted in exploratory improvising and deep reaching solos. We approach it the way Miles might have."

The BROWNMAN ELECTRYC TRIO has won 2 National Jazz Awards, 3 Toronto Independent Music Awards for "Jazz Group of the Year", a SOCAN music award, a CBC Galaxie Rising Star Award, and an International Independent Music Award for "2015 Jazz-Funk album of the year" for the album "Gravitation", which hit number 4 on the iTunes USA jazz charts upon it's release.

“Awards are nice, naturally, but to dig what Brownman is doing, you’ve got to see him live. I had a chance to do just that over the summer when Brownman fronted his killer trio ... I came away with a blown mind. This guy’s got chops galore, soul to match, and a sense of phrasing that recalls many of the greats, but suggests itself to be his own.” -- Buffalo News

[magnussenlau9-blog]

This Is actually Sports On Google Glass VIDEO CLIP.

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[aerolivialockhart-blog]

Week 10

 Monday of this week we shot some final videos of the wingtip device working in the wind tunnel, but not until the last hour since the tunnel was booked. So we spent the first bit completing our velocity jet matrix and finishing the sanding down of the leading edge. As in Week 8, the alignment of the two acrylic halves of the wing are slightly misaligned, leaving a lip on the leading edge which definitely skews the results for the surface flow control. This was more of a step towards future testing of the wing, since we decided doing further testing of the surface flow control was beyond our time limits. We did get to analyze the slow motion videos we took of the wingtip device that day, and compared the frequencies of the wingtip tuft for the jet turned on and off:

The wingtip jet is on in the left video, as you can see the amplitude of the spinning tuft is slightly smaller than the right, as well as the frequency being slower than the right. The videos, taken at 240 fps in slow motion, were analyzed and it was averaged that with the wingtip jet on, the tuft spun at 6.86 Hz, and with it off it spun at 7.74 Hz. We found that this was evidence enough to conclude that the device does have an effect on the wingtip vortex, but to find the extend of drag reduction there would need to be more in-depth measurement of the wing, such as with a wake survey or force balance, or with the pressure ports taking data. 

a) If you were to pick one thing that you feel like you understand pretty well about aerodynamics now that you didn't at the start of 307, what is it and why?

I think I understand separation and reattachment phenomena a little better than I used to. The 4412 lab helped me look closely at the relations between angle of attack, speed, and stall. I have first-hand observed how the flow will stay separated when angle of attack is lowered even further than where it stalled. Other team’s projects also taught me about laminar separation and the bubble, which I was hearing about for the first time.

b) If you were to pick one thing about aerodynamics that still confuses you, what is it and why?

I think the one thing that still perplexes me the most is supersonics, even though we didn’t really handle it in this class. It is the one thing that I feel is hardest to be intuitive about, whereas I *think* I have a good foundation of what will happen with incompressible flow.

c) What was your 307 highlight?

My highlight was our flow visualization project, and thinking of our own ideas and executing our own experiments. I still have lots of ideas that I want to try out in the future. And our final videos that we got of the dye drops in the water channel were very cool and satisfying.

d) What was your 307 lowlight?

Hauling dozens of buckets of water to dump out in the sink.

e) For many of you, this'll be the last time you really engage with aerodynamics, since you prefer structures or controls or design or just anything else... for others, this course will have been a springboard to many future aerodynamic adventures. What do you think the future holds for you in aerospace engineering?

Each class I take only has me more indecisive about what I want to do. This lab has affirmed my career criteria that I need to work hands-on, and this somewhat drove my decisions on my internship this summer-- out of two options I had I picked the one that I would get to see and touch and work with more equipment and technologies. I’m not too concerned with the specific field that I go into, as long as I can feel like I’m helping out the world.