#why did I pick a stem major

[honey-pages]

Learn your Lesson - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After an intense lecture, Viktor invites you to his study where he ensures you learn your lesson.

2.7k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Sex. Teacher/Student. Riding.

@kskajjwiqqj

Viktor was nothing like the other professors that you had met. He was younger, known by his first name, and was quite clearly very attractive. You had been invited along to a skills class with the rest of your department and any interested outliers. Viktor was the reason you attended. You aspired to impress him, to become his student. There were always rumours circulating, however with Viktor, the only thing you had heard was how impenetrably private he was.

His back was to you as he wrote on the board in chalk. It was strange seeing someone in the position he was at such a comparable age to yourself. You did not even want to consider how old professor Heimerdinger was. The way he looked standing there authoritatively in his everyday suit was immaculate. It was taking your attention away from his teaching.

“The principles of Hextech's functions are fundamentally rooted in our understanding of magic's interactions with our reality. The volatile nature of unrefined hex crystals stems from this. Magic in and of itself cannot be quantified with precision, only comparatively by constants. “

He was presenting half to himself as the majority of the room looked out of their depth. He stopped asking call and response questions a while ago as he had no responses. Now he was picking on people.

“So, why is it an impossibility for magic to be married to our understanding of, say, gravity? “

No one makes to answer the question. You wait for a few seconds as he looks quite disheartened. He sweeps over the room. Silence. He locks eyes with you. The questions weren’t essentially that difficult, they were just to register attention. Most of the things he asked were things he had previously mentioned or things that were graspable by taking the things he had taught and applying its logic.

You put forward an answer, “It is impossible to apply something which lacks numerical quantification to a concept as characterised by numbers as gravity. You'd end up with too many unknowns. The best you could manage is to average those constants, which is not precise enough when working with hextech “

“Close! It is certainly a challenge, although not impossible, to determine properties of a gravity field under magical influence, in precisely the manner you have described. However, more fundamentally, the issue lies in the fact that the gravitational constant is a dimensional property defined by distance and mass, while any magical constant lacks such constraints. But very very good thoughts Miss (Y/N).”

He knew your name. As he responded to you, he did a double take, watching you. You caught him scanning your whole person, losing his train of thought for a second. He smirks before catching the thought he had just lost. It was quite noticeable, the effect you had just had over him, and you were almost certain that it wasn’t just because you were the only one answering questions. Maybe the times you had thought he was being personable were something more?

He was finishing up his teaching, but still whenever he referenced something you had put forward or said something particularly related to your thoughts, he looked at you.

“We've discussed today a number of approaches to applying magical principles in our limited understanding of physical laws. The crux of what makes this application an impossibility is as follows: A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property. “

He addresses you, “With all the answers you have given, Miss (Y/N), I perhaps should invite you to speak with me privately afterwards.”

As he calls over to you, you realise the invitation he has just extended to you may not be one of a regular professor. Students are beginning to pack up and filter out of the hall, noise levels rise. Your seat on the first row, closest to Viktor, enables you to be one of the first out of your seat. Your courage feels disembodied and far from you now as you face him without the defence of the group setting.

“I’d like that. When are you free?” You ask, smiling and holding his gaze. It feels more difficult at close distance to deal with his focus, like the sun being beamed through a magnifying glass.

“Come to my study.” He suggests.

He collects his jacket from the back of the chair, folding up papers and books from the lectern and placing them into his bag. He holds back a little longer, waiting for the last of the students to have left the theatre. The room feels much smaller now you are alone together.

“I am serious about your potential, Miss (Y/N). I think with some support you could do great things.”

You flatter, “If I had a teacher such as yourself Viktor, I would already be doing great things.”

“You look beautiful today.”

You fluster, it was unexpected. You stumble.

“Flattery doesn’t work on either of us.”

“I’m serious Viktor, take me on as your student.”

He pauses.

“What was my final point in today’s lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your mind was blank. Not strictly due to a lack of memory, focus or attention as you can guarantee to certainty that your attention was on Viktor, but due to how completely attracted you are to him. As time passes, his gaze becomes more confident. He knows he has you where he wants you.

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.” He reiterates. “It is no issue that you have forgotten. I have identified exactly where to begin tonight’s lesson.”

You walk with Viktor through the corridors and leading passages to his study. It is an interesting place in an interesting building. It is decorated beautifully, with full bookcases and large empty boards scrawled with workings. It is a small place that looks well used and lived in, as though it were an external reflection of his internal musings.

“Make yourself at home.” He insists.

You place down your belongings in one corner, neatly out of the way of any space Viktor might need. He sits down in a chair in the corner opposite to the one you stand in, and ushers you to sit in the respective seat. Although you are diagonally placed, the smallness of the room almost presses the caps of your knees together. It is cosy and feels like a special place to be invited to.

“I do not usually invite people here, even if they are prospective students.”

You smile, not knowing quite what to reply to show gratitude, humility and not betray the all-consuming attraction you have towards him. Ever since he said you looked beautiful, any hextech knowledge you may have unlocked had been jumbled and rearranged to make some sexual collage.

“I meant it” He states.

“What?”

“You look beautiful today”

You try to play it off cooly how much that compliment meant to you. “I thought we had agreed not to flatter.”

“I wanted to be clear. I didn’t just say it because I wanted to compliment you. I said it because I meant it (Y/N).”

You freeze up again. Your pulse began to be audible through your ears and your blood ran hot.

“You look flustered.” He recognises, sitting forward.

He reaches out a hand to touch your knee. He looks concerned. He doubts the appropriateness of his actions for a second before reassessing. You are both adults, he has no direct power over you, you are both consenting to being here. Then why did this feel so strange. It felt dream like to him. He had fantasised about you for so long, had stalked your progress in your studies. He had seen potential in you from the moment you were accepted through intake, in fact he made the decision.

You sit up too at his touch. In doing so, you shifted in your chair, your legs widened slightly. Due to the change in position, his hand now sits significantly higher up your thigh. A happy accident. Viktor understands why you are so nervous. He is also aware as to the position he now has you in. In his office, in his chair, with his hand on your thigh.

He tries to make you more comfortable, “Let’s take this back to hextech. Ah yes, perfect, what was the last thing I mentioned in today’s lecture?”

You stared absolutely blankly. Every time you had begun to think real words, Viktor had knocked you back ten steps. Now you were at square one again. You tried to recall the words, but they were fuzzy and blurry and so far out of your reach.

“Viktor, I’m sorry, I can’t remember.” You plead.

“Come on, Miss (Y/N), with your answers earlier we both know what you are capable of.”

“My brain feels foggy. I think I am misremembering.”

“An educated guess is the first big step.”

Throughout the conversation, the intensity of eye contact and body language meant that neither of you had realised that Viktor’s hand now held dangerously highly on your upper thigh. He looked down at his hand on you. It had not felt like he had moved it that far up. You realised that you had gradually been spreading your legs further apart. Gravitating towards one another. Everything leading to one eventual outcome. This was all the confirmation that was needed.

“Come here” He asks, smoothly.

You hesitate, blushing.

He pats his lap, sinking back into his chair. “A good student does what they are told.”

You hesitated not only due to feeling intimidated, but that you were not wearing any underwear. To make it more noticeable to him, you were also wearing a skirt. Of all the days to be sitting on Viktor’s lap, today had to be the one. You climb up onto his lap, sitting side saddle, keeping your knees together.

“So rigid. Where was this posture when you were just spreading your legs?”

“It’s not that Viktor, its- “Your voice trails off.

His hands find themselves around your waist and hips, feeling and calculating, building and rendering what you must look like underneath. His touch is comforting, his hands are hot and hungry. You want to give yourself to him, allow yourself to be devoured.

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Viktor’s hands stop moving momentarily.

“Is there a reason you came to my lecture without them?”

You don’t answer. You shift more comfortably into his lap, directly onto his crotch. He is satisfied without an answer. He decides that if the outcome of your studies today was to catch him, he was very much in your reach. As you shift in your seat, his hips jolt forward, grinding up into you. It is uncontrollable for him.

“Open them for me Miss (Y/N).” He continues

Viktor guides your hips to move you to straddle him, shifting your legs apart. He watches your movements, eyes focused on you. He raises his hand to his mouth, placing in two fingers, coating them with saliva, before pressing them to you. He slides them over your clit and then down to your entrance. You are already slick with wetness, mainly from the anticipation and mental chess he was playing with you.

“So wet for me already.” His voice is silk. “What a prepared student you are.”

You uncontrollably push forward against his fingers, increasing the pressure against yourself. You moan out accidentally.

“Beautiful” He watches, “And if I place them here, then what noise will you make”

He flicks his fingers over your clit, hovering them over your entrance.

“Please.”

“What was the last thing I said in today lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your chances of remembering were zero even though he had repeated himself. You really had no excuse for not remembering but it was so impossibly difficult now. You rut against the tips, desperate.

“Viktor, I’ve forgotten again.”

“Such a shame, you seemed so attentive. You will learn and progress, you just need encouragement.”

He unbuttons and unzips his trousers, angling upwards to pull them under his hips and down his thighs to his knees. As his underwear comes away, he springs free. He is exactly as you expected. Seeing him explicitly feels like a sin in itself. With both hands on your hips, he shuffles you forwards to be directly positioned above his waist.

“Information recall is important Miss (Y/N).’ He states. “Repeat after me.”

“Yes.”

He spells the words out slowly. “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.”

The words are alien to you, meaningless now. You try to remember, there are two long ‘D’ words, two alliterative ‘C’s. The second he says it, it’s gone from your head again.

“Your turn”

“A dimensionless… cannot contain... dimension” You know it is incorrect even as you say it.

He grins, watching you unfold under the pressure. He begins to stroke himself slowly. You may as well be dripping on him. He lifts your shirt and unbuttons your bra.

“I can do it” You insist.

He removes the shirt and bra, exposing you before him.

“Dimensionless constants contain… no, define…”

He is quickening his pace, pleasuring himself with speed to the vision of you in front of him, stumbling over words he has fed you. So desperate to impress him.

“Viktor, please can you say it again.”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property” He moans and signs as he speaks. Punctuating the words as they fall out of his mouth. He aligns you with him as he prepares for your repetition.

You reply quickly while it is fresh in your brain, “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

He slams quickly upwards and inside of you, stretching you around him. You scream out his name. He doesn’t stop moving, furiously thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. He gets deeper as you sink down on him.

“Again, Miss (Y/N)”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

There is no slowing Viktor down and you hold onto the chair for balance. He has both hands gripping either thigh and his face is warped in concentration and pleasure. His fingers are gripping firmly and roughly.

“I am going to fill you Miss (Y/N).” He commands, “So deeply that you will feel me inside of you until your next lecture.”

“Please Viktor- “

You are filling the study with swearing and ecstatic cries. It isn’t soundproof, Viktor knows that well enough in hearing conversations outside of his door. He wonders how they will react to him holding you down on his cock as he finishes, the sounds you will make. Whether people will hear his name, will recognise you as the prospective student who seduced him and got fucked consequently.

He has slowed his pace slightly, using his hand to rub your clit. You feel yourself building, unravelling. He feels you internally tense around him, gripping his cock and pulsating around it. You will finish imminently.

“I’m going to- “you pant. “Your fingers will- “

“Do it, (Y/N).” He is near his end too, “For me. Show me how badly you want it. Give me no choice but to undo you.”

He speeds up his fingers, forcing you through a powerful orgasm.

“Viktor- “You scream out.

You are shaking, quivering but he doesn’t stop. He removes his hand and buries it into your hair, tilting your head back, pulling you downwards as he pushes upwards.

“Take it” He demands, “My perfect student. Look at you - a whore.”

With these words, he firmly grabs you and holds you still, as deeply as you can manage. He feels himself twitch and spasm, coating your insides with his thick load. He begins to thrust a few more times to feel the wet slapping noise that he has reduced you to. He is at a loss of breath, a loss of words.

You collapse onto his chest, folding into his arms. It feels good being held there as your heart rates begin to settle themselves. There is something pure and honest about the way you both interlock after such an extreme session. He smooths your hair back, kissing you across the face, planting thoughtful kisses on your forehead. He sinks deeply into the chair, as you sink deeply into him. Together you fall into a tired, lazy nap.

Tag List - @gubkkki, @veru-boom

[geminiwritten]

could be me ; bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

fandom: top gun

pairing: bradley x reader

summary: you've been in love with rooster since you were a kid, but a few years ago your father threatened to ruin rooster's career if you didn't get over your stupid crush and find an honourable man - so you date assholes to protect rooster, but it's getting harder to stay away from the boy you're in love with (loosely inspired by this song)

notes: okay, i admit defeat!!! i am in love with this man and it is consuming my life! i was so excited to write this, but i rewrote it and rewrote it, and it still doesn't feel right :( i hope it isn't too awful, but i promise i'm going to write something perfect for this boy, because wow, i love him... please let me know what you think! good or bad, i love feedback!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, toxic relationship/s (nothing detailed or major), negative father / daughter relationship, one brief mention of 'offing oneself', very little and most likely incorrect knowledge about the us navy, and some generally poor writing i'm sorry

word count: 10597

“That guy sucks,” Mickey mutters into the mouth of his beer bottle.

The whole squad is jammed into a booth on the beach-side of The Hard Deck bar, their necks craned and eyes fixed on the large blond man towering over their best friend at one of the tall tables beside the jukebox.

“He’s so rude,” Natasha states, “and cold.”

The only one not blatantly staring across the bar is Bradley. He’s too busy picking at the soggy label on his half-drunk beer and sulking. The corners of his mouth have been turned down from the moment you walked through the door with that hulking mass of man muscle by your side.

“Rooster,” Reuben says, nudging his friend’s side and knocking him out of his imaginary pity party.

Bradley glances up, “Hm?”

“Move, I need to get another drink.”

Realising why he had been feeling pressure on his right side, Bradley sighs and slides out of the booth, allowing his friend to shuffle across to freedom.

“Do you want a drink?” Reuben asks.

Bradley shakes his head and slumps back into the booth, returning his attention to the beer bottle’s label.

“Why is she with him?” Mickey asks, his brows furrowed.

“He’s got money,” Bradley replies dryly, “and rank.”

Natasha shoots him a scowl. “Come on, Rooster. Y/N’s not that shallow.”

Bradley scoffs, “You want to bet?”

Her brown eyes glance toward you, watching as your hand grips the thick forearm of the blond boy toy standing over you. She grimaces and shakes her head. “No, not really.”

“Exactly,” Bradley sighs, leaning back in the booth and finally dragging his eyes up to look at his friends. “Her dad has high standards and apparently dating some stupid commander with more bicep than brain and more money than manhood is her idea of being the perfect daughter.”

“You sound jealous,” Jake states, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Bradley snorts a laugh, though there’s no amusement behind it. It’s dry. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Hangman?”

Before Jake can answer the rhetorical question, Mickey pipes up. “Who’s her dad, again?”

Natasha sighs, turning her head to face him. “The admiral,” she replies, “you know, Cyclone’s superior.”

“Shit, that’s right,” Mickey says. “He’s terrifying.”

Reuben returns to the table with wide eyes, gingerly setting four beers on the table before ushering at Bradley to scootch further into the booth. “Oh, my God,” he says as he sits down. “I just asked Y/N if she wanted to join us, and that dude basically growled at me.”

“Gross,” Natasha mutters, before taking a generous swig of her fresh beer.

“I did catch his name, though,” Reuben adds. “Johnny.”

Bradley scoffs, “Johnny.”

The squad spend the better part of the next hour making fun of the man whose arm is draped across your shoulders, all but Bradley. He’s too busy scratching the label off his beer bottle and shoving all thoughts of you and your newest Ken Doll out of his mind.

Across the bar, you pinch the stem of your wine glass between your thumb and forefinger and start moving it in small circles, making the yellowish liquid swirl. You hate white wine, but Johnny doesn’t seem to recall you mentioning that on your date last week. His arm is heavy on your shoulders, compressing your spine and making your neck ache as you try to maintain a decent posture on the uncomfortably high stool. You’ve never liked sitting at the tall bar tables, you prefer a booth.

It takes all your self-control not to gaze across the bar to where you’d rather be. It wasn’t that you hadn’t expected your friends to be in their usual booth at The Hard Deck on a Saturday afternoon, but when Johnny asked you to get drinks with him and meet his friends, you’d still hoped they wouldn’t be here. Especially Bradley.

You’ve known Bradley Bradshaw since you were ten years old. He was the first boy to ever make your heart skip a beat, and the only one you’ve ever truly fallen in love with. Not that you’ll willingly admit that last part to anyone but your own reflection, and even then, you need a considerable amount of liquid courage to do so.

When your father, the admiral, was assigned to assist in overseeing the TOPGUN programme at MCAS Miramar, he moved your family to San Diego, right next door to the Bradshaws. Your mother and Carole Bradshaw became quick and close friends, and you soon learnt all about Bradley’s late father and the man who had since stepped in to help raise Bradley.

Your father wasn’t subtle about disliking the Bradshaws, or more specifically, Pete Mitchell, but your mother couldn’t have cared less. You spent most of your weekends and summer days with Bradley, since your mothers were practically inseparable, and the same was soon said for the two of you. It didn’t matter that Bradley was a few years older, you simply matchedeach other’s energies. Soulmates, Carole would say.

Years passed and you both grew, but your crush never wavered. You were there the day his mother passed away, and the day he sent his application in to the Naval Academy. You were also there the day he found out that it was Pete who pulled his papers, and if you close your eyes and think back hard enough, you can still hear the screaming and shouting.

It got a little complicated after that. Bradley decided that he was going to study at UVA for the four years before he could reapply to the academy, and despite your heart’s protests, you helped him pack and promised to look after his family’s home while he was gone. Without the honey-eyed boy next door to spend all your time with, you focused on school and growing up. Bradley would call every now and then, mostly to let your mom know that he was doing okay, but he didn’t visit for two whole years.

It was the year you turned eighteenth that everything changed. You were in your front yard, wearing your favourite red bathing suit and trying to water the poor, sunburnt flowers back to life. When Bradley turned the Bronco into his driveway, he nearly drove right through the garage door, slamming the brakes on just in time. His jaw popped open and his eyes almost fell out of his head as he stared at you bopping along to whatever music was playing in your headphones.

It took you more than a minute to notice the car in the driveway next door, but once you did you dropped the hose and ran across the lawn, jumping over the short fence that divided your yards. Bradley didn’t move until you wrenched the driver’s side door open and asked if he was okay, and he certainly was not okay when you wrapped your arms around him and pressed your scantily clad body against his.

After that, he visited a lot more. Every break he could, he would fly across the country to see you, and if he couldn’t come to San Diego, you would fly to him. The two of you gave ‘inseparable’ a whole new meaning. You spoke every day, sent each other letters and packages containing thoughtful presents or silly gifts, and whenever you could, you would video chat for hours on end. There wasn’t a single day that went by that you didn’t feel a tug in your gut toward the boy across the country who you were head over heels in love with.

Eventually, he reapplied and was accepted into the Naval Academy. You were happy for him, of course, but the bubble in which you were living had to pop at some point. It was harder to see him while he was in the academy, and even harder when graduated and got deployed, but the hardest part was not knowing where he was.

One morning, when you were on your way out the door to work, your father stopped you. He told you that Bradley had been accepted into the TOPGUN programme and would be moving back to San Diego for a while, but the look on his face was a stark contrast to the excitement on yours. It was that morning that really burst your bubble. You’d created this imaginary little world where Bradley would eventually come home to you, kiss you, and tell you that it’s always been you, but your father wasn't going to let that happen.

He lectured you for twenty minutes about the fact that Bradley Bradshaw is not good enough for you. He told you that he’s been holding it in for long enough, because your mother had begged him not to interfere with your life and your choices, but he can’t take it anymore. He said that Bradley is a flighty boy from a mixed-up family, raised by a dishonourable man, and he isn’t wealthy or worthy enough for you. He told you to let go of your stupid crush and find an honourable who could make you happy, or else he would ruin Bradley’s career.

Any sane person would have told him to fuck off, but you were too young and too scared, and you loved Bradley too damn much to risk something he’s worked so hard for. So you simply nodded and slipped out the door, spending the next few weeks avoiding your father and mourning the loss of a relationship that never was.

It was about that time that you started dating assholes. You couldn’t live in a world without Bradley, but you had to protect him, so you always had an honourable commander or captain on your arm to distract your father. You stayed close with Bradley, even when he flew off around the world again. When he was called back to TOPGUN for a special detachment, you were over the moon, and everything seemed to fall into place after the uranium mission. The dagger squadron became a permanent unit based on North Island, and you quickly became friends with the whole group.

After years of distance and uncertainty, everything feels good. That is, except for your shitshow of a love life that is getting harder to maintain as you juggle keeping your father happy while also trying to assure your friends that you’re not a clinical masochist who enjoys toxic relationships.

“Babe,” Johnny’s voice knocks you back into reality. “You good?”

You blink a few times, trying to refocus on the man sitting beside you instead of the waves out the window. “Sorry,” you say. “Just daydreaming.”

He chuckles. “What could you possibly have to daydream about when I’m sitting right here.”

Your eyes betray you, casting their gaze across the bar toward your friends, landing on the boy with the golden-brown hair. Johnny sighs, as if exasperated by you. “If you want to go see your little friends so badly, then go.”

You force yourself to shake your head. “Don’t be silly. I’m here with you, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Except squished into that booth beside Bradley, breathing in his scent and feeling his thigh pressed firmly against your own.

Johnny smirks before leaning forward with puckered lips. You try not to seem awkward as you lean forward and give him a kiss, but you can’t help feeling uncomfortable under the hard stares of his friends.

“I’m just going to get another drink,” you say, slipping off the high bar stool. You hurry away from the table before he can point out that you haven’t touched your wine, beelining for the bathrooms.

Once safely in the fluorescent lit lavatory, you plant both hands on the vanity and stare at your red cheeks in the mirror. You’re not sure why, but it’s getting harder being with men like Johnny. It used to be easy to pretend, to flip your hair and bite your lip, and flirt until they believed that you were into them, but lately, all you can think about is Bradley.

His soft hair and tan skin. The way his mouth curls into a smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes. His broad shoulders, long legs, and the way that every move he makes is so sure. When you close your eyes, all you can see are his honey-brown irises staring back at you, making you blush even when you’re miles apart. It’s like there’s a rope anchored in your gut and the other end is tied to Bradley. It used to be loose and languid, giving and taking as needed, but now its taut. One end of the rope is being wound up, pulling you into his orbit whether you like it or not. You worry that one day you’re going to wake up unable to breathe without him near you.

“Fuck,” you sigh, smacking your left hand on the vanity. “This is ridiculous.” You look up at your reflection, raising your right hand to point at the mirror. “Pull yourself together.”

You wash your hands and fix your hair before exiting the bathroom. You keep your eyes trained on your destination as you walk toward the bar, finding a vacant space to lean your forearms against the dark wood.

“Hey gorgeous,” Penny says with a soft smile.

“Hey Penny, could I just get the usual, please?”

She laughs lightly. “Of course. I was a bit worried when I saw that commander hand you a white wine.”

You breathe a half-assed laugh through your nose. “He’s still in training.”

She grabs a beer from the fridge behind the bar before turning back to you with a knowing smirk. “Well, I don’t see why you keep fostering these disobedient dogs when you have a perfectly well-trained puppy at home.”

You frown, tilting your head as your mind races to decode the metaphor. Only when she glances over at the booth of your friends and back to you does it click.

Your eyes widen. “Penny!”

She laughs again before adding, “And that is a cute puppy, if I don't say so myself.”

You roll your lips to stop yourself from grinning, because yes, Bradley is an adorable puppy and you would love nothing more than to take him home with you. “Thanks for the beer, Penny,” you say before she turns away to serve another patron.

You take a long swig from the bottle before weaving your way back through the bar to Johnny and his friends. The night wears on, and you try as hard as you can to remember how to pretend but you just can’t stop yourself from glancing over at Bradley every few minutes. You know Johnny is getting annoyed too, you’re just glad that he can discern exactly which one of your friends it is who’s stealing your attention.

"Alright,” Johnny says, pushing off his stool. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your eyes snap back to him and you nod. “I just want to say hi to my friends first.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “I’m going to take a leak.”

You watch him walk across the bar and wait until the bathroom door closes behind him to roll your eyes. You slip off the stool and quickly squeeze through the groups of people standing between you and your friends, the grin on your face growing the closer you get.

“Hey!” Natasha greets you first, her face lighting up.

Your eyes scan the familiar faces of your friends. “Hi.”

The last to look up at you is Bradley, but the moment his honey-brown eyes meet yours, the corners of his lips start to curl up. You could never get tired of seeing that smile.

Mickey gasps dramatically. “Rooster, is that a smile?”

Reuben snorts a laugh. “I didn’t know your face made that expression.”

“Shut up,” Bradley mutters, flipping his friends the bird from where his hand is resting on the tabletop.

“Anyway,” Natasha says, turning from the boys to you. “How are you?”

You drag your eyes away from Bradley. “I’m good. Sorry I didn’t come over earlier. I was meeting some of Johnny’s friends for the first time and it was a bit awkward.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “We’re kind of glad you didn’t bring your new Ken doll over here.”

“Which model is this?” Mickey asks with a cheeky grin.

Reuben chuckles. “Ken on Steroids, comes with his own syringe.”

Laughter rumbles through your friends, and once again you roll and rub your lips together to stop yourself from joining in. You can’t let them know that you intentionally date douchebags, because then there will be more questions than you’re willing to answer and you're already struggling to keep those skeletons inside their closet.

“Very funny,” you sigh, before glancing over your shoulder. “I should go, but I’ll see you guys-”

“Babe!” Johnny hollers across the bar, earning a lot of confused looks. “Hurry up!”

You want to close your eyes and sink into the floor, totally embarrassed and utterly fed up with this stupid, disobedient dog. But when you glance back at your friends and your eyes easily find Bradley’s, you remember why you’re doing it.

You plaster on a smile. “Sorry, guys. I’ll see you later.”

You barely hear their goodbyes as you turn and hurry through the bar toward the door. You can’t help your body from recoiling when Johnny wraps an arm around you, but you play it off by pretending to be cold. The walk to his car is silent, as is the first half of the drive, until he takes two wrong turns in a row and you realise that he isn’t driving toward your house.

“Which way are you going?” you ask.

His Cartier bracelet twinkles under the passing streetlights. “What do you mean?”

“My place is back that way.”

He sighs and shifts a little in his seat, reaching out the Cartier arm to place a hand on your thigh. “I thought you could stay at mine tonight.”

“Oh.” Your stomach swirls nauseously. “I’m actually not feeling too well, I think I should-”

“Again?” he snaps.

You take a deep breath, your hand itching to find the door handle. “Yeah, again. I probably need to go to the doctors.”

The car screeches to a halt and your body strains against the seatbelt. “Good idea,” he says. “Why don’t you go right now?”

You frown. “Now?”

He nods at the door, and only then do you realise that your hand is gripping the handle. His face is cast in shadow and streetlight, making him look more menacing than he really is. You know he only acts tough, but you’re still not willing to push it given his significant size advantage over you.

You pop the door open. “Fine.”

You’ve barely got two feet on the asphalt before he hits the gas and takes off again, speeding down the dark street and leaving you behind.

“Fuck.”

You glance around and try to find something familiar. You might have grown up here, but you definitely don’t know the area as well as you should. You know your usual places and the direct routes to and from those places, but right now you’re standing on a street you’re fairly sure you’ve never been on before. It also doesn’t help that it’s dark, because everything is different in the dark.

You pull your phone out and open your maps, using two fingers to twist and turn the map on the screen until you can figure out how far off your usual route Johnny had driven. He lives further from the base and the bar than you do, in some schmancy mansion he inherited from his parents that you hope never to see in person.

“Fuck,” you groan again. The little blue dot showing your location is a good ten miles from either the bar or your house, and you’re definitely not doing a trek like that in the middle of the night.

You flick away the maps app and pull up Uber, your thumb hovering over the location box where you should type your home address and hit enter, but you can’t stop thinking about Bradley. Even the thought of him has an effect on you now, making your insides mushy and your brain foggy. The tug in your gut has you wandering across the street in the general direction that The Hard Deck would be, and you switch from the Uber app to your contacts list. You scroll to the top where your favourites are pinned and tap on Bradley’s name without a second thought.

It only rings once. “Hello?”

“Bradley,” you say, relief washing through you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you guys still at the bar?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “What happened?”

You lean against the nearest streetlight, guilt and anticipation warring inside of you. “You can say no, but I’m kind of lost.”

“Hang on,” he mutters. You can hear shuffling and distant voices, then the squeak of a door and the background noise dies down. “What do you mean you’re lost?”

“It’s a long story,” you sigh, “but like I said, you can say no-”

“Where are you?” he demands. “I’m coming to get you.”

Your chest aches. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he says, and then the background noise returns. There’s music and chatter, and you can hear the jingle of keys while Bradley quickly explains himself to the squad.

Then there’s Mickey’s voice, loud and clear. “Go, Prince Charming! Go!”

“Fuck off,” Bradley mutters, and you can’t stop the giggle that bubbles up your throat.

There’s another few seconds of music and chatter before you hear a car door slam, and then it’s so quiet you can hear Bradley’s heavy breathing. “You still there?” he asks.

“Haven’t been kidnapped yet.”

He sighs. “Please don’t joke about that.”

You shift your shoulder against the light pole, trying to ignore the excitement in your stomach. “Don’t worry, they’d bring me back pretty quickly.”

Bradley chuckles dryly. “Not before I found you and killed them.”

Your heart thumps heavily in your chest, feeling swollen and ready to burst. “Why would you kill them?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

Maybe you are a masochist.

“Because I don’t like it when people take what’s mine,” he replies.

Your stomach does a somersault, and you wait for a laugh or a chuckle, but it doesn’t come. Bradley is dead serious right now, and somehow, he's managed to make you horny from ten miles away.

You clear your throat. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It looks like you’re near the old fire station.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and put it on speaker before flicking out of the call screen and tapping on the ‘Find My’ app. Bradley’s contact photo is floating on the map a small distance from your little blue dot, moving closer. You shared your locations with each other a few years ago, mostly because you wanted to see where Bradley was in the world, but it’s come in handy more than a few times. Like right now, for example.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “But you do have to tell me why.”

You frown, still watching his location. “Why what?”

“Why you’re suddenly stranded when I saw you leave with your boyf-” He hesitates and clears his throat. “Your boy toy.”

You sigh and roll your head back, staring up at the dark sky for a moment before looking back down at Bradley’s slowly moving contact photo. “We had a bit of an argument and-”

“And he kicked you out of his car and left you?”

“No, no, he-” Now you hesitate. “Well, yes, technically, but putting it like that sounds bad.”

“Because it is bad!” Bradley exclaims.

You take a deep breath of cold night air before sighing it out. “I know.”

A moment of silence stretches into a couple of minutes, but neither of you hang up the phone. You know it’s for safety, in case the worst were to happen, but you also like to hear Bradley’s soft breathing. As creepy as that might sound. It’s comforting to know that he’s there and he’s on his way. He might even be mad at you for being stupid and dating an asshole, but he could never let his anger get in the way of your safety.

“Are you speeding?” you ask him.

“Um, no?”

You scoff. “Okay, that was convincing.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? My best friend stranded in the middle of nowhere at midnight.”

Friend. You roll your eyes. “You’re supposed to make sure you get to her safely.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

You frown. “How did you know?”

He chuckles. “Because I know you.”

Your pulse thrums harder, filling your ears and making your breath come and go in quick gasps. You don’t know what to say, because it's true. He knows you, better than you know yourself sometimes, and that makes you wonder if he knows exactly what you’re hiding from him.

“I think I see you,” he says.

Your eyes snap up toward the headlights that appear half a mile down the street. “I think I see you too.”

Your heart beats faster the closer he gets, and you wait until you can clearly recognise the front of the Bronco before hanging up your call. The car rolls to a stop in front of you, and Bradley ducks his head to look at you from the driver’s side. “Need a ride?”

He is fucking breathtaking. All golden-brown tousles and soft eyes, his lips perfectly kissable and his cheeks a little flushed.

“Mom told me not to get in strangers’ cars.”

His face breaks into a grin, and you’re pretty sure your heart stops altogether. “I have candy,” he says.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

You pull the door open and fall into the seat, his scent wrapping around you like a blanket. For the first time tonight, you feel safe.

“Hey,” you breathe out, staring at the boy beside you like he hung the moon. You’ve been looking at Bradley this way since you were ten years old, and sometimes you try to hide it, but after the night you’ve had, you can’t find the strength to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m a lot better now.”

The light inside the car is dim and his face is partially obscured by shadow, but you’re pretty sure you can see the colour in his cheeks deepen. You search each other’s eyes for a few too many seconds before he looks away, focusing on the street ahead as the car begins to roll forward.

The drive is silent, but not in the same way it had been with Johnny. This silence is thick with something unsaid, tangible and heavy as it hangs between the two of you. His right hand is resting on the gear stick out of habit, and your fingers itch to slide between his, feel his hot skin against yours in any way possible.

He clears his throat. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

You sigh. “Do I have to?”

He glances at you and shrugs a shoulder. “No, but it might feel good to talk to a friend.”

Friend. You turn your gaze out the windscreen, focusing hard on the road ahead to avoid rolling your eyes. Maybe you should talk to someone about the shit you’re dealing with. It might be self-inflicted shit but at least complaining to someone about it might relieve some of the frustration.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you begin. “After about ten minutes of driving, I noticed that he’d taken a couple of wrong turns, so I asked where he was going, and he said I should spend the night at his house tonight.”

The steering wheel squeaks in Bradley’s tight grip.

“Are you sure you want me to tell you this?”

“Yes,” he replies, using a tone of voice that leaves no room for argument.

“Okay,” you sigh, turning back toward the road before continuing. “I told him that I didn’t feel well and just wanted to go home, but he got a little annoyed because I’ve been sick for the past couple of weeks.”

“You haven’t been sick,” Bradley states, brows furrowed.

"Well, not really, but-”

“So, you’ve been lying to him?”

Your stomach twists nervously. “I guess.”

Bradley nods slowly, his expression unreadable.

“Well, anyway,” you continue, “I said that maybe I need to go to see a doctor, so he stopped the car and told me to go right now.”

Silence envelopes you both again. The only indication you have that Bradley actually heard you is the way his knuckles are turning white as he grips the steering wheel. His face is stoic, his eyes fixed on the road but still distant. You know this look, it's the look he gets when he’s stuck in his thoughts.

You don’t want to interrupt him for the fear of being scolded. You know Bradley would never belittle you or tell you that you're stupid because of the decisions you make, but there’s no doubt that he’s mad at you for putting your own safety at risk.

He doesn’t speak until the car stops in the garage beneath his apartment block, and only then do you realise that he hadn’t driven you to your place. He moved here when the dagger squad got their permanent placements on North Island, after finally deciding to sell his family home.

“I’ll sleep on the lounge,” he says, pulling the key from the ignition. “You can have my bed.”

You hate the way your stomach squeezes at the idea of being in his bed. “Don’t be stupid, I’ll take the lounge.”

“No, you won’t.”

Before you can argue, he pops the door and steps out of the car. You quickly fall out of the passenger’s side and hurry after him, almost bumping into his broad back when he stops abruptly at the elevator.

“Bradley,” you sigh, standing at his side. “Please don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“I just spoke to you, didn’t I?”

You huff. “Well, yes, but I don’t like how you’re talking to me.”

He scoffs, his brows shooting up toward his hairline. “Oh! You don’t like how I’m talking to you?”

The elevator doors open and you both step inside. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He crosses his arms and leans against the back wall of the cabin. “I just think it’s funny how you let those men treat you like shit and talk to you like crap, but as soon as I don’t feel like being playful, then you’ve got a problem.”

You frown at him, your breath coming and going much faster than before as anger bubbles in your stomach. You’re not sure what to say, because how can you defend yourself against fact. Silence stretches until the elevator dings and the doors part.

“I’m just not like those other guys, am I?” he says, brushing past you as he steps out of the cabin.

You follow him, doubling his steps to keep up. “No, you’re not like them. You’re better.”

He jams the key into his apartment door and laughs bitterly. “Better but not good enough, right?”

He shoves the door open and stalks inside, leaving you to catch the heavy door for yourself. You follow him in, quickly kicking your shoes off in the hall before stepping into the kitchen after him. He stands on one side of the island, both large hands planted on the countertop. You stop on the opposite side, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bradley, what the fuck?”

He stares down at the bench. “I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you’re with them!” he exclaims, head snapping up. “Why do you deal with that? Why do you choose those guys when you could have anyone you fucking want?”

Your chest aches as your heart starts slowly tearing itself apart. “Bradley, please don’t-”

“You date these assholes that don’t give a fuck about you, but then when you need someone, when you’re scared or alone, you call me.” He pauses, his shoulders rising and falling with laboured breath. “Why?”

You close your eyes, wishing once again that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. But it doesn’t, so you open your eyes to meet his intense honey-brown gaze. “Because I know you’ve got me.”

“No, I don’t,” he snaps. “I thought I did once, but I know now that I never will.”

“Bradley-”

“I’m not mad,” he quickly adds, his features softening slightly. “I could never be mad at you, and I will always be there for you, but I need you to know that it kills me to see you with these guys.”

You want to ask why, because you’re a masochist and you want to hear him say it, but you can’t speak. Your throat is too thick and your emotions too wired. You knew this argument was inevitable, but you hadn’t expected it tonight. Maybe it’s not just yourself that you’ve pushed too far, maybe you’ve pushed the limits of your friendship too.

“I need sleep,” he mutters, dropping his gaze before turning toward the short hallway.

You watch him disappear into his room, feet anchored to the floor despite how hard that rope in your gut is trying to pull you toward him. You’ve never wanted to touch him more in your life, hold him and kiss him and tell him that you’ve only ever loved him, but you can’t. Your father might be busier these days and less of a threat to you, but he’s still a threat to Bradley’s career.

After a couple of minutes, he reemerges in a pair of grey sweats. Only grey sweats. You’ve seen Bradley shirtless more times than you can count, but you’re never ready for effect that it has on you.

“Bed’s all yours,” he says, throwing a pillow and a blanket onto the lounge.

You want to argue. You want to stomp your feet and tell him everything you’ve held back for years, and then you want him to kiss you and take you to bed where the two of you will stay for the next month. But you can’t, and you’re about to burst into tears.

You nod once before shuffling into his bedroom, shutting the door most of the way before turning to face the bed. When you see a pair of boxers and an old shirt laid out for you, the floodgates burst and tears stream down your cheeks despite your efforts to choke them back. Your throat aches and your nose stings, your vision blurred as you slowly peel your clothes off and wrap yourself in the comfort of Bradley’s.

You wonder if Bradley can hear you crying quietly as you crawl into his bed. The apartment isn’t very big, but you’ve done your best to suppress your sniffles as you washed your face in the ensuite bathroom. Your head hits the pillow and his scent overwhelms you, filling you with the most conflicting mix of sadness and horniness. You’ve been in Bradley’s bed plenty of times before, but not often sober and never after he just almost confessed to being in love with you.

Eventually, you fall asleep and have the best sleep you’ve had in years. You wake to the sound of your phone vibrating on the bedside table and startle when you see the time in the top left corner of the screen; it’s almost midday. You hang up on Johnny’s call, only to see ten missed calls from earlier in the morning and a ridiculous number of texts. You roll your eyes and throw the covers back, rushing out the bedroom door and into the lounge room.

Your heart sinks when you see the lounge is empty and the blankets are folded neatly on one end. There are no missed calls or messages on your phone from Bradley, but you can vaguely recall him making plans with the squad earlier in the week to go to the beach today. You go back into the bedroom and change into your own clothes, dropping your borrowed pyjamas in the hamper by the ensuite door before walking back into the main space.

You’re about to leave the apartment when a folded piece of paper on the kitchen island catches your eye. You snatch it and open it up, quickly reading Bradley’s scrawl.

Had to go. Coffee is fresh.

I’m sorry about last night, I overstepped.

You’ve always got me. I love you.

Breath catches in your throat and tears fill your eyes. You thought you’d cried yourself dry last night, but apparently not. It isn’t as if Bradley has never told you that he loves you. He’s said it before deploying and he’s said it to save himself after some particularly snarky jokes, and you’ve said it back, but this feels different. This feels like a confession.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You shove the note into your pocket and continue toward the door, making sure it’s locked before it falls closed behind you.

It’s only a ten-minute walk to your place, and you quietly wonder if Bradley intentionally chose an apartment not far from yours. You wait impatiently as the elevator ascends to your floor, slipping through the doors the second they part and half jogging toward your apartment door. Once inside, you shower and pull on some clean clothes before running right back out the door.

Your mind races as you drive to the beach, trying to come up with the right words to say to Bradley. You don’t want to make it awkward, but you know you can’t leave last night unresolved. You would have to act normally in front of the squad, maybe pull him aside and tell him that you’re the one who's sorry. Or perhaps you should act like nothing has happened and text him later tonight.

You bounce back and forth between different ideas the entire drive. The only thing you do know is that you’re not going to take those last three words too seriously. Bradley loves you and he’s told you that before, this note is no different.

You slide your sunnies up your nose and scan the beach, easily spotting Javy’s broad frame and Jake bouncing around like an energetic border collie.

Mickey sees you first as you jog toward them. “Hey!” he calls, waving his arms like a maniac.

“Hey.” You’re a little breathless by the time you reach them, your eyes searching for Bradley amongst the bodies playing volleyball. “Where’s Rooster?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Mickey chuckles. “He’s not here.”

You frown. “What?”

“Hey!” Natasha jogs up to you, abandoning the game. “Are you okay? Rooster told us you were stranded last night.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You push your sunnies to the top of your head. “It’s a long story but Rooster helped me out. Do you know where he is?”

She cocks her head, confusion written across her face. “He messaged the group chat this morning saying he couldn't come because he had to see Mav.”

“Mav,” you echo. “He’s at Maverick’s?”

Mickey nods. “As far as we know.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you quickly pull it out, letting out a sigh when you see Johnny’s name across the screen. You look back up at your friends. “I’ve got to go see him, so I’ll see you guys later.”

“Everything okay?” Natasha asks.

You nod. “Of course, I just need Bradley.”

You turn and start jogging back toward your car, your legs burning as your feet sink into the soft sand. The drive to Maverick’s isn’t long, but you have to remind yourself several times to slow down and not be stupid. Your stomach sinks when you can’t spot the Bronco parked anywhere nearby, but you still climb the front porch and knock on the door.

Only a few seconds pass before Maverick answers. “Y/N?”

“Hey Mav, I’m sorry to bug you but-”

“Are you okay?” he interrupts, concern painting his face.

“Yeah, why?”

He leans a shoulder against the door frame. “Well, Rooster told me what happened last night and you’re looking a little flustered right now. That Johnny guy isn’t giving you a hard time, is he?”

“Oh, no,” you reply. “I mean, he’s been calling, but I haven’t answered. I was actually just looking for Bra- uh, Rooster.”

Maverick hesitates for a moment, his eyes reading you like you’re an open book with size forty-eight print. Every emotion on your face so easily distinguishable.

“He’s not here,” he finally says. “He left a little while ago. Not sure where he was headed, though,”

You take a deep breath to try and wrangle your nerves. You need to calm the fuck down. “Did he say anything to you?”

“About what?”

“Last night.”

The tiniest of smirks lifts the corner of Mav’s mouth. “He said that asshole you’re dating kicked you out of the car and left you stranded.”

You nod once, brows raised as if asking for more.

“He also said that he might have overstepped a little.”

You lift your hands to your face and groan into them, frustration and anxiety seeping from every pore in your body.

“I’m going to ask again,” Maverick says. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, face still hidden in your hands. “No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitate, trying to think of all the consequences that could possibly come from telling Maverick your problems. When you finally pull your hands away, they’re wet with tears.

You sniffle, looking up at the captain. “Yes please.”

He steps aside and ushers you in, offering you drinks and snacks as he guides you through to the back patio. You take a seat in the most comfortable looking wicker chair and catch a whiff of Bradley’s cologne, which only causes more tears to fill your eyes.

Maverick quickly joins you with a pitcher of water and two cups, and a box of tissues. “I’m going to start charging you kids for these therapy sessions,” he sighs.

A wet laugh leaves your lips as you press a few tissues to your face. “Sorry Mav.”

He chuckles. “Don’t be.”

After a minute, you manage to calm down enough to tell Maverick everything, even though he already knows a lot of it. You tell him about the first time you saw Bradley, the first time you realised why you felt a certain way around him, and the first time you had a feeling Bradley might feel the same. You fill in all the gaps about your family that Maverick missed when he was flying in and out on assignments, and you tell him all about the years that he and Bradley didn’t speak. You even tell him about your father, how he never liked Maverick and later threatened you with ruining Bradley’s career.

By the time you finish, you feel so light you could float. You’ve stopped crying, and you realise now that all the weight on your chest had been put there by your father. The same father who hasn’t given you more than a minute of his attention since the day he told you not to go near Bradley Bradshaw.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Maverick sighs at the ground. He has his elbows propped on his knees, his head in his hands as he stares at the deck beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “My dad is a dick.”

He looks up, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because he had no reason not to like you, but he did anyway.”

He chuckles. “I’m not a stranger to being disliked, especially by admirals.”

You laugh softly before taking a long swig of water.

“You’re right about him being a dick, though,” he says. “The fact that he ever thought he could tell you who to date is the worst example of parenting I’ve ever heard.”

You laugh again, but it’s more of a snort.

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” Mav asks. “What about your mum?”

You shrug. “I was scared, and I loved Bradley too damn much to risk anything.”

His lip lifts into a smirk. “Be that as it may, your father has no right to threaten Bradley’s career.”

“What do you mean?”

Maverick chuckles now, elbows still leaning on his knees as he clasps his hands together. “Do you think that I would still be here if one admiral was able to do completely derail someone’s career?”

“Well, no,” you reply.

“Exactly.” He sits back now. “I don’t blame you for believing him, because that isn’t a threat that anyone would take lightly, but you really don’t need to worry. Bradley is a big boy now, he can stick up for himself, and if all else fails, he has a lot of other people on his side.”

You stare down at the empty cup in your hand, processing his words and letting them sink in, letting yourself believe them. “So, you’re saying-”

“You can love Bradley if you want to,” he says. “There might be other consequences for your relationship with your father, but as far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t deserve a relationship with his daughter unless he changes his attitude.”

Your heart thuds heavily against your ribs. “Thanks Mav, for everything.”

He nods. “Any time."

“Just one more thing?”

He quirks a brow, waiting for your question.

“What else did Bradley tell you this morning?”

The laugh that escapes his lips startles you, a wide grin stretched across his face as he pushes to stand. “Well, sweetheart, I think you should just go talk to Bradley yourself.”

You roll your eyes and stand too. “Fine.”

You thank Mav again as he walks you out. He gives you a hug and promises not to tell anyone what you’ve told him, but assures you again that whatever happens, Bradley’s career is safe. You walk off his porch feeling a lot lighter than when you had walked in, and when you get in your car, you pull your phone out and type a text to Johnny.

‘Fuck off.’

Then you block his number and drive home. You decide to give Bradley a little space, because you need to school your own thoughts before you go letting the skeletons dance their way out of the closet. You need to figure out how you’re going to explain yourself, and you need to decide if you actually want to risk the friendship and tell him you’re in love with him.

Just because Maverick got all giddy when you told him you were head over heels for Bradley doesn’t mean he’s definitely in love with you. You were hoping Mav might give you a hint, but he was stubborn, focusing on you and your feelings instead of divulging anything about Bradley’s feelings.

You busy yourself for most of the day with random chores and errands. When the sun starts to set, you settle onto your sofa and take your phone out, typing out a text to Bradley that you’ve been workshopping all afternoon.

‘Thanks again for last night. I appreciate you. What are you doing after work tomorrow?’

You put your phone on silent and toss it across the lounge, nerves creeping across every inch of your skin as you sink into the cushions. You’ve never been nervous to talk to Bradley. In fact, he’s the number one recipient of your usual word vomiting, but right now, you feel like you’re standing on the ledge of a skyscraper wondering if he’ll be there to catch you when you jump. If you jump.

-

Five days. It’s been five fucking days since you messaged Bradley, and nothing. You’ve only ever gone this long without speaking when he was deployed without access to his phone or reception. To say you were nervous five days ago feels like a joke now. You’ve barely slept, you’ve barely eaten, and you’re pretty sure you’re starting to see things that aren’t there. Had you imagined Bradley this whole time?

“You look tired,” Natasha says the second you open your apartment door.

“Thanks.”

You step aside and allow her to walk in, which she does with a scrunched-up nose. “Do you not have any windows in here?”

You roll your eyes. “Why are you here again?”

She spins on her heel and flashes you a smirk. “To make you feel better, obviously.”

“Doing a bang-up job so far,” you mumble sarcastically.

You move some of the blankets off the lounge to make room for her. You’ve been sleeping there the past few nights, falling in and out of consciousness while the TV plays reruns of old 90s sitcoms. You’re lucky you have the option to work from home, because you're not sure you’d have been able to drag yourself to work at all this week. Instead, you’ve been doing half-assed days at your desk while resisting the urge to put your phone in the blender.

Natasha sits on the lounge while you open your balcony door, letting in the brisk autumn air. “So,” she says, still smirking, “are you ready to feel better?”

You sit down beside her, curling your knees up to your chest. “I feel fine, actually.”

She raises her brows. “You do? Because the last time you missed pool night at The Hard Deck, someone had literally died.”

Shit. You’d completely forgotten about Wednesday night pool. In fact, you’ve forgotten about everything except Bradley, who has apparently forgotten about you.

“Did Rooster go?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“See,” she says, her smile widening, “you already feel better.”

You roll your eyes. “Again, I’m totally fine, just-”

“Cut the bullshit,” she interrupts you, her expression turning serious. “I’m not here because I think you’re going to off yourself. I know you’re a big girl who can deal with heartbreak when she has to, but the thing is, you don’t have to.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Ugh,” she groans, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Do you know how painful it is to deal with the two of you when the answer is to all this tension is so simple?”

You wait a beat, letting her have her moment that she has clearly been waiting to have.

“I’m not going to tell you something that I don’t know for sure, but I am going to tell you that Rooster is miserable,” she says. “He’s obviously not sleeping, he’s barely eating, and he hasn't strung more than four words together all week. Now, I know something went down, we all do, but I also know that now you’re both just being stubborn.”

You frown and open your mouth, but she holds a hand up to stop you.

“I’m not done.”

You roll your lips and nod once.

“I know I haven’t known either of you nearly as long as you’ve known each other,” she continues, “but I think I know you both well enough to know that you’re better together than you are apart. Whether or not that means marriage and babies, I don’t care. All I care about is that two of the most important people in the world to me don’t lose each other, because it’s kind of fucking obvious that you two are soulmates… or whatever.” She tacks on that last part with a wave of her hand, clearly becoming uncomfortable with the mushy stuff.

You push your bottom lip into a pout. “Aw, Nat,” you coo. “Bob was wrong, you do have a heart.”

Her brows dip into a scowl. “What did that fucker say about my heart?”

You roll your eyes and ignore her question, leaning across the couch to wrap your arms around her. She hesitates but hugs you back, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. Natasha isn’t the most affectionate person, but she knows how to be there for her friends.

“Wait.” You pull back. “It’s Friday, why aren’t you at work?”

“They needed someone to cover a weekend, so Mav gave me today off.”

“Oh,” you nod before falling back into the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “Bradley might be miserable and all, but he’s still avoiding me. I’ve messaged him and called him, but he keeps ignoring me.”

Natasha hums thoughtfully. “I thought he might be. He’s been avoiding every conversation where your name comes up.”

You roll your eyes. Not that you blame him. From his point of view, you look like a pretty big idiot. You’ve been best friends for over a decade, flirting nonstop for half of that, and yet you keep dating assholes despite giving him all the signals that you’re actually into him.

“I have a plan,” Natasha says, her lips pulling back into a smirk. “You still have security clearance because of your dad, right?”

Twenty minutes and one hot shower later, you’re following Natasha out the door of your apartment and into the elevator. Your stomach flips nervously as the cabin descends, and you start to gnaw at your bottom on the way to her parked car. You haven’t been on the base in years. In fact, you try to avoid it, because you know that your father is there somewhere.

“Don’t be nervous,” Natasha says, glancing at you from behind her sunglasses.

Your eyes are fixed on the road ahead. “Bit hard not to be.”

You don’t live far from the base, and after barely ten minutes of Natasha’s questionable pep talking, the car rolls up to the main gate of North Island Naval Air Station. You both show your identification cards to the security guard in the booth while other guards inspect her vehicle. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t settled from the moment you stepped out of the shower, and now you’re starting to worry that the banana you managed to eat for breakfast isn’t going to stay down.

Natasha cruises through the familiar base, parking in one of the expansive staff lots before turning to you with an uncharacteristically wide grin. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Good, let’s go.”

You force yourself to open the door and plant your feet on the tarmac. Step by step, you make it around the vehicle to where Natasha is impatiently waiting.

“Come on,” she sighs. “We have to get to there before they’re called in for the weekly debrief.”

You take a deep breath and force some confidence into your voice. “Okay, okay. Just a little anxious about doing the one thing I’ve spent a good chunk of my life specifically not doing.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, very big deal. Now hurry up!”

Another deep breath has you feeling a little more human, more confident and grounded. You walk beside Natasha with a little more courage, gazing around at the huge buildings and looping roads. You haven’t been on the base in years because of your father. You’ve dated assholes for years because of your father. You’ve hurt the only boy you’ve ever loved because of your father.

Anger starts to bubble in your stomach as Natasha raises her wrist to check her watch. “Can you run?” she asks.

You nod. “Let’s run.”

The two of you break out into a sprint, shoes smacking against the concrete as Natasha leads the way. You don’t recognise much, not that you ever took special notice of the buildings when you visited with your father, but you do spot the Ford Bronco parked in one of the lots along the way.

“This way,” Natasha says.

You both slow to a jog as you approach one of the hangars. Natasha waves to a couple of the officers, greeting them with a vague explanation for her visit while you zone out and gaze up at the huge structure.

Through the hangar and on the other side where there are long stretches of tarmac and a line up of fighter jets, you find a familiar group. You have to squint to see them properly, all appearing in various states of exhaustion and one still on the ground doing push ups while Hondo counts beside him. The golden-brown head of hair makes your heart skip, and you trip on your own feet as you continue to approach the group.

Mickey notices the two of you first. He grins and waves before nodding once and walking up to each of the others, whispering something in their ears. They each give you a smile and a nod before slowly walking away from the boy doing push ups.

Hondo tips his head when you get closer, and winks. “194… 195… 195.”

“What?” Bradley gasps. “You just-”

“Quiet lieutenant,” Hondo snaps. “You’re going to make me lose count.”

Natasha gives you a subtle thumbs up before skipping off in the same direction as the rest of the squad.

Hondo inches away too, raising his voice to continue counting. “197… 198… 199.”

Your heart thunders within your chest, trying it’s hardest to break free as you watch Bradley sink into his final push up.

“200,” you say.

His arms wobble and his knees hit the concrete just in time to stop himself from falling on his face. When he glances up, sweaty and on all fours, you feel like you could faint.

“Hey,” he mutters. “What are you doing here?”

He sits back on his haunches and dusts his hands together, his eyes honey eyes sparkling under the setting sun.

“What do you think I’m doing here, Bradley?”

He glances around, noticing the absence of his squad. “Trespassing?”

You cross your arms and pop your hip. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” He pushes up and rises to his full height. “Last I checked, you were the one with a penchant for self-destructive behaviours.”

You narrow your eyes. “Define such behaviours.”

“Dating assholes for their money and rank.”

Anger sizzles through your veins, heating your skin and making your fists ball. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, before walking past you.

It takes you a moment to catch up, to find your voice and stamp down the angry monster rearing its horns. Bradley has a right to be angry. You expected him to be angry.

“Bradley,” you call after him.

He keeps walking.

“Rooster!”

He keeps walking.

“Bradshaw!”

His steps falter but he doesn’t stop.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw!” you exclaim. “For fuck’s sake!”

He halts and turns on his heel, his eyes stormy beneath furrowed brows. “You have no authority to pull rank. In fact, it’s kind of illegal and could get your father in some serious trouble.”

“Good!” You cover the ground between the two of you, stopping barely inches from him. “I hope he gets in shit, I hope he gets court martialled, or whatever the fuck it is that happens to you lot when you misbehave.”

His frown softens, curiosity taking over his expression. “What?”

You have to take a deep breath, because standing this close to him has your head spinning. “My dad is an asshole.”

Bradley tips his head. “Well, yeah, but why does that matter right now?”

“Because”– you take half a step back so you don’t hurt your neck looking up at him –“when we were younger, when you got accepted into the TOPGUN programme, he told me that you weren’t good enough for me.”

The muscles in his jaw jump as he clenches his teeth.

“I didn’t believe him,” you continue quickly, “but he threatened me. Well, he threatened you, your career. He said that if I didn’t get over my stupid crush, he would ruin your career, and I was young and stupid enough to believe that he could.”

His jaw relaxes and his expression softens. “He said he would ruin my career?”

You nod. “I couldn’t let him do that, but I couldn’t lose you either, so I did the only thing I could think of. I started dating assholes that dad would like, so I could stay friends with you. If he thought I was with these other guys, he wouldn’t question how much time I spent with you.”

His eyes go a little glassy. “You dated all those assholes so you could stay friends with me and protect me?”

You nod again, the bridge of your nose stinging as you stare up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. “I couldn’t risk him finding out that I’m in love with you.”

Despite the distant sounds of the ocean, the birds chirping, and the hum of machinery, you feel like the world has stopped spinning. You hold your breath, waiting for him to react, to say something.

“In love,” he whispers, “with me?”

You nod for the third time, your voice stuck in your throat with the last breath you’d captured.

“Fuck.” He rubs a hand up his jaw and through his hair, his eyes bouncing around the hangar before returning to yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You feel like the elephant sitting on your chest has finally moved, and you let out a long breath.

“Oh, thank God,” he mutters. “Because I am so in love with you, it-” He doesn’t finish his sentence before he dips his head and presses his mouth against yours, his hands holding your head.

His lips are as soft as you’d always imagined. They taste like mint and something sweet, and they move against yours in the most perfect way. Your fingers find the material of his flight suit and pull him closer, that rope in your gut demanding his body be against yours as you mouths move together. When he fits against you like he was made to be there, everything finally feels perfect.

“Hurts,” he whispers against your lips. “So in love with you, it hurts.”

“Does it still hurt?” you murmur into his mouth, not letting him more than an inch away from you.

You feel his lips curl into a smile. “A little less now, but you should keep kissing it better.”

He tilts your head back and deepens the kiss, making you gasp against his mouth. Your head spins and your knees give, but Bradley’s hands quickly fall to your waist and keep your body pressed to his.

He chuckles. “I’ve got you.”

“Always have,” you say.

He presses his forehead against yours as you both breathe. You know Bradley, you’ve known him since you were ten, and you know that he is doing exactly what you’re doing right now. He’s telling himself that this is real.

“Do you- um, do you want to come over tonight?” you ask.

In one swift move, his hands drop to the backs of your thighs and he crouches a little before hoisting you up off the ground. You yelp and wrap your legs around his waist, now looking down at his big, beautiful smile.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he says. “Do we have to wait until then or do you just want to do it in the Bronco?”

You giggle, your cheeks burning. “It’s really weird to hear you say shit like that.”

He chuckles. “Oh, baby, you better get used to it. You’re going to hear a whole lot more come out of my mouth tonight.”

END.

[ponchigg]

How To Actually Set Intention To Reality Shift.

Original post made by LadyNuggie on the reddit shifting community r/Shiftingrealities. All credits to them.

Setting the intention to shift is one of the most widely discussed topics in the shifting community. A lot of shifters (especially on tiktok) will tell you "all you need to shift is intention." One girl literally said, "all you need to shift is intention, and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're lying." Something about that didn't sit right with me and it took me a while to put my finger on why that statement bothered me.

The thing is, first of all, all you need to shift is intention and the right altered state of consciousness that works for you so you can connect to your DR and detach from your CR. But besides that, let's say all you did need to shift was intention. Well then, how do you set that intention? Because there is a right way to set intention and a wrong way.

Setting intention isn't going to sleep half hoping you wake up in your DR. Some people have literally shifted that way, but that doesn't mean that that is how you actually set intention. The key to setting intention is moving a message, desire or want from your conscious mind into your subconscious mind. Your conscious mind makes up about 5% of what we call "the mind". The remaining 95% is your subconscious and unconscious mind. Your subconscious is comprised of everything you've ever seen, heard, tasted, and experienced. Your thoughts, beliefs, values, and habits all stem from the workings of your subconscious mind. That is why "reprogramming your subconscious mind" is a popular topic in the shifting community.

Now, you set intention by ingraining or imprinting your desire into your subconscious mind. Simply having a thought or want in your head does not mean that the intention has been set. And this is where I explain what prospective memory is.

Prospective memory is when you have a "prospect" or something in mind that you want to accomplish later. Maybe you want to remember to buy more toilet paper the next time you drive by target or you need to remember to pick up your sister from her piano recital. You remember to do those tasks in the future because of prospective memory.

When trying to learn how to lucid dream, one of the first concepts you come across is reality checking, which is basically performing an action multiple times throughout the day so that you get used to it and at some point do it in a dream (because it's been ingrained into your subconscious and has become a habit). So if your reality check is counting your fingers, when the action pops up in a dream, you become lucid because in a dream you could have 8 or 4 fingers on one hand and you realize it's a dream!

Let's say you told yourself that whenever you walk into a room or stand up from a seat, you would do a reality check. That is you utilizing your prospective memory. That way, the action shows up in a dream because your subconscious mind "remembered" to do it!

So how does this relate to shifting? Well, a major reason why sleep methods don't work for a lot of people is because (like me) they have weak prospective memory. You could tell me to clap twice in the next 30 seconds and I'll forget. So it's no wonder that I "forget" to shift when I use sleep methods.

You shift with a sleep method when you set the intention to shift (using prospective memory) to your DR and detach from your CR through an altered state of consciousness (in this case, that would be sleep). When you successfully shift using a sleep method, it is because your subconscious "remembered" to do so!

This is also why a lot of people have dreams about their DR. Because the images, people and sensations from their DR have been ingrained in their subconscious mind, so they dream about it! I've literally had dreams where I walked through a portal to try to shift although I wasn't lucid.

So if you want to use sleep methods, (although this is important for any kind of shifting method) I highly recommend working on your prospective memory by giving yourself little tasks to do throughout the day. You could also start doing reality checks, that way, even if you don't shift at least you could have a lucid dream which you could use to shift anyways.

An Example of a Prospective Memory Exercise for Shifting (can also be used for lucid dreaming):

▪️ The next time I walk into the kitchen I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I turn on a light bulb I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I pick something up from the floor I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

▪️ The next time I flush the toilet I will: do a reality check and remind myself to shift to my DR when I go to sleep.

Try to do each task 3 times each day. Good luck!

[brenwritesss]

𝐓𝐫𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You miss your girlfriend too much, and she's completely whipped for you.

Warnings: smut and language

a/n: the final part of the Tru Fru series!! Have fun!!

It’s been seven months since you and Paige had made your relationship official and life couldn’t be any better. You loved waking up to her beautiful face every morning, going to every one of her home games at UConn, kissing her during the sunset, but most of all your favorite part was being loved by her. She spoiled you as if you were the only girl in her world. Every week followed the same routine: flowers, gifts, date nights, cuddles in bed, and sex. It was almost too good to be true. 

However, with the end of the semester approaching, that came with too much homework and studying, and not enough time. Being a STEM major was tough work, especially when all you wanted to do was spend the time you dedicated to your work on your girlfriend instead. What made matters worse was that Paige was away for a game, and the amount of phone calls, texts, and FaceTimes didn’t lessen the miserable feeling of missing her at all. Not to mention, with all the stress you had been having throughout the past week, not having her with you to release that tension and stress was beginning to show. 

You were sitting at your desk, so deep into your homework that you almost didn’t notice your phone ringing. You pick it up, Paige’s caller ID flashing across the screen. You couldn’t help the small frown that crept onto your face as you answered. “Hey.”

Paige’s voice that always soothed you came through your speakers. “Hey baby, I’m not interrupting anything right?”

You shook your head as if she was in the room with you. “No you’re not.”

“Ight, chill. You haven’t been responding to my texts all day so I got worried. Everything okay?” You could hear the genuine concern laced in her voice and it tugged at your heart. You didn’t mean to not respond, but with all the work you were doing and missing her, you kept pushing it off, not wanting her to see how much her being away was affecting you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Sorry, I’ve been studying all day that I haven’t really been on my phone.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“I miss you,” she paused. “Well, I always miss you so I bet you already knew that.”

You wanted to laugh but knowing that she missed you just as badly as you did made you want to break down. “I miss you too.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked you. In the seven months you had been dating, Paige had instantly learned how to read you, even when she wasn’t near you. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. “Why?”

“Y/n, you’re my girlfriend. You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? Talk to me, princess.” And this was the reason you fell in love with her. How she cared about you was unlike anything else you had ever experienced.

“I just…” you trailed off, debating if you actually wanted to tell her what had you upset. “I’m really stressed out.”

“With finals?” It was like she read your mind. Almost.

“Yeah.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you that you got it in the bag,” she reassures you. “You’re the smartest girl I know. Not to mention the hottest.”

Thank God she wasn’t here to witness the blushing mess you had just turned into. You let out a small, breathless laugh. “Thank you.”

“But seriously, you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. And I know this because I did the same thing when I was training, so I get it. But it’s not gonna help you," she paused and you could hear her take in a deep breath. "God, I wish I could hold you right now.” It was almost like she said that last part to herself and it made your heart jump.

“Yeah, I wish that too. I know I shouldn’t be doing too much, I just can’t help it. You’re not even here so I’m bored.” And that was when you heard her smug, deep laugh.

“Babe,” she says into the phone. “Don’t boost my ego like that.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me how much you miss me.”

You sigh, only causing her to laugh more. “I miss you. A lot.”

“Yeah?” she asked you and you could just picture that hot smile on her face. “How much?”

“Too much,” you whispered into your phone.

“Don’t lie to me like that.”

“Okay, fine. I hate that I’m feeding your ego like this but I’m miserable without you.” You braced yourself for her reaction to your words.

“There it is,” she says while laughing. “It’s almost like I was expecting that answer.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off? Hell no. Fuck you? Every damn day for the rest of my fucking life.” You’d be lying if you denied that Paige saying that did things to you.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why? Because it’ll get you all wet?” 

“Paige Bueckers, what the fuck is wrong with you?” And you stood by what you said. Paige knew exactly how she was making you feel because she had made you feel it almost every day for the past seven months.

“Answer a question for me baby.” You replied with a soft “hm”, telling her to continue. “Is one of the reasons that you’ve been missing me so much because you’re horny?”

You froze. Damn, she knew you well. “Maybe.”

“I fucking knew it. You’re horny. Babe, I’m making you wet right now aren’t I?” She spoke to you in that hot, soothing voice that just made you melt every time you heard it.

“Talking like that, what do you expect?”

“Send me a picture of that pretty pussy for me real quick. I need to see something,” she ordered. And as she had expected, you did just what she had asked because a few minutes later, you sent her a photo of your pussy, all wet for her. Did it take you a few tries to get the angle right? Yes. Did Paige need to know that? Hell fucking no.

Paige, still on the phone when the photo was sent, sighs heavily through the mic. You just knew she was staring at that picture. A few seconds passed before she sighed again, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Wait what?” That girl was states away and was not expected back for another three days. What the hell did she mean by that?

“I don’t think your pussy can go three more days without some attention. I’ll be at your place by midnight, love you baby.” And with that, she hangs up on you.

It was in that moment that you knew Paige Bueckers was insanely whipped for you.

So naturally, you did what any other sane, sex-deprived college student who was missing her girlfriend would do and sent her another picture. Only this time, you made sure it was extra wet. Just how she liked it.

Paige ❤️

All wet for me

Better be laid out all pretty for me

Yeah, that did it. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew she would be here soon, you would have jumped in bed and gone to town. But Paige wants you all wet and pretty for her. And who were you to argue?

You felt as if you had lived through a hundred years before you heard a knock on your door. You wasted no time in almost running across your living room to the front door, grabbing the knob, and opening the door to reveal a tall and muscular Paige leaning against the doorframe, hands in her pocket. She lifted her eyes up from the floor and they landed on you, taking in the sight of you in your bra and her shorts. She pushed herself away from the doorframe and stepped closer to you. “Told you I’d be here in a few hours.”

Your throat went dry and you suddenly lost the ability to speak. Although, you figured that was only one of many times that would happen tonight. Paige walked in and shut the door behind her, not even waiting another second to wrap her big hands around you. The contact you had missed so much this week was finally back again and it made your heart flutter. 

Her arms tightened around your waist, gently picking you up as you wrapped your legs around her waist. “Missed you so much.”

“From those pictures, I could tell,” she says as her hands move to your ass to support you. She kisses your cheek, walking to your room. “I missed you too.”

“Need you right now.” Your words set a fire inside Paige as she practically threw you on your bed, ripping her shorts off you. Her hands roamed all over your body and that was when you believed that your body was created to fit her hands. It just fits so well.

“Fuck baby,” she whispered in your ear. “You have no idea how bad it was on that plane, looking at your pussy and not being able to touch her.”

“Just my pussy?” you asked her in the most innocent way possible with a look that made her shiver against you. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it off her with ease.

She took it from your hands and tossed it to the side. “Every damn part of you.” That was all she said before she devoured your tongue, sucking it in between her lips and creating a slobbery, wet mess between your mouths. You wanted to get her kisses tattooed on you, never forgetting them for the rest of your life.

Her hand brushes up your stomach, palming your breast and that’s when you feel a small surge of pleasure coarse through your body and straight to your core. She brings her mouth toward your right breast, cupping it in her hand as she gently rolls her tongue over your nipple. You moaned at the sudden rupture of heat from her tongue, raking your hands through her hair. She spits on it, licking it all up again. “Only mine to see and suck like this.”

“Mhm,” you breathe out, tightening your grip on her hair. “Only yours.”

She licks a line all the way up from your tits to your jaw, latching her mouth back onto yours. One of her hands steadies herself on the bed while the other grabs your leg and hooks it over her waist. Using that same hand, she rubs it up and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps after each trail. You tighten your leg around her waist which earns you a small moan that you could almost feel deep in the back of your throat. 

“Paige baby, please,” you whisper into her mouth. She lets go of your lips, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Need you to fuck me,” you say bluntly. It was almost as if you could hear the low growl coming from her throat as it vibrated through your bones.

Her hand moved from rubbing your thigh to caressing your inner thigh, inching up higher and higher. The way she caressed your thighs perfectly made you whine out for more as she demolished your collarbones and neck. Her fingers moved toward your pretty pussy lips, practically feeling your arousal. She pulled away from your neck and looked down towards her fingers, admiring the sight below her. You whimpered at the feeling of her fingers on you, just teasing you. “Baby please.”

Paige goes back to kissing your neck, nipping at your skin occasionally. “Just relax, gonna get you so wet for me.”

She spends the next few minutes teasing you; circling your clit a few times then applying pressure as she slid her fingers down to your entrance, drawing an invisible circle around it, then dragging her fingers back up to your clit only to repeat the same pattern again. She had you a whimpering mess, grabbing at her back and her hair, lightly pulling at it. 

“Fuck, P,” you whined.

“Keep those beautiful words coming,” she says as she finally enters two fingers into your tight hole. You gasp as your grip on her shoulders tightens. You try to clench your legs together but she moves her knee in between them to keep them apart. And of course, knowing Paige, she had to say something about it too. “Don’t even think about it, princess.”

Her fingers thrust in and out and you could hear just how wet you were becoming. And to Paige, that was music to her ears almost as much as your moans were. And God, did you fucking love that sound of her fingers inside your cunt. “Paige, oh my–”

“Just like that,” she said, speeding up her movements which earned her another pornographic moan from you. She nodded at you. “Yeah, just like that.”

“That’s so fucking good, mmm,” you moaned, making direct eye contact with her. You were becoming soaked now and Paige knew that with a few more thrusts of her fingers, you’d be cumming onto her. And although seeing you cum on her fingers was one of her favorite things ever, she needed it to be better. To remind you how she was the only person who could even touch you like this. So she pulled out her fingers which resulted in an almost suctioning sound and stuck them into your mouth. “Taste yourself, pretty girl.”

You wasted no time in licking her fingers clean, even though you were slightly annoyed at the fact that she pulled them out before you could cum. “What are you doing?”

Paige smirked at you. “You tell me how much you miss me, I see your pussy, and I fly all the way over here, and you think I’m not gonna take my time and fuck the shit out of you?”

That’s when you knew you shouldn’t even think about making plans tomorrow. Or the next day after that. And maybe the day after that too. Before you could even say anything, she slides a box out from under your bed and pats your leg. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be right back. And I better not see your hands anywhere near your pussy when I get back.” She walks into the bathroom with the box.

You felt as if you couldn’t even function properly with your body almost shaking and feeling as if you were out of breath. You wait a couple minutes, starting to grow impatient trying to wait for Paige. Finally, she emerges from the bathroom, a nice, long, and thick strap attached to her waist. You widened your eyes at the sight of her just as you did every time you saw her wear it. Every time, you always questioned yourself as to whether or not you’d be able to take it. But Paige always made sure you knew that you could take it perfectly every time.

She walks up to you and uses her hands to push your legs farther apart. You quiver underneath her touch. She uses two fingers and slides them between your folds, letting them become coated in your juices. She then pulls her hand away and rubs it on her purple dick. The purple, plastic dick she used to fuck you so many times. Once her fingers transferred your coating onto the strap, she then ran it down your folds like she had just done with her fingers. You felt as if you could cum just from that and you wanted nothing more than to flip Paige onto her back and ride her.

“Tell me how much you missed this,” Paige orders you, aligning it against your entrance. You gasped at the movement and gripped onto the bedsheets.

“I–” you breathe out as she begins pushing it inside you. “Fuck.”

“Keep telling me,” she says, not pushing it in all the way.

“I needed you to–”

Your gasps stop you from talking as she begins to sink into you even more. You gather up your strength to moan out, “fuck me like this so badly.”

Paige finally lets the strap sink deep inside you. Your moans filled the air of your room and Paige watched you in awe. She admired everything about you in this state: the way your eyes lingered on her, the way your knuckles turned white from gripping the bedsheets and the way your back arched from taking it.

Paige began slowly thrusting, putting her hands on either side of your waist to gain more control while she thrusted it inside you. You were a moaning mess at this point and you didn’t know where to put your hands. You continuously moved them from the bedsheets to the pillow under your head, to the headboard. 

Paige took your moans as permission to increase her speed. As she moved faster against you, she gripped your hips harder. “Just like that. Taking me like a good girl.”

You could feel yourself getting more slick as she slid inside you every second. And you knew that at any point you were about to cum from her. Paige moved one of her hands from your hip to your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and then bringing her hand back to your hip. 

Paige can tell you’re about to cum and that’s when she not only continues to speed up, but begins to thrust a bit harder, hitting the spot that she knew would make you come undone right on her. “Can’t take it anymore,” you whine out just as she begins hitting that spot deep within you earning more loud moans.

“Yes you can baby, you always do,” Paige says as soothing as she could. “Now let me see that pretty pussy cum.”

And that combined with how deep she was hitting was all you needed to release. You cum right onto Paige’s dick as the knot in your stomach breaks. You almost cried out at the sensation. Paige rubbed circles on your hips and helped you ride out your high like she did every time. “Just like that,” she cooed.

You go numb on the mattress, holding your breath as Paige pulls out of you. You spend the next few minutes trying to regain control of your breathing and let your heart beat get back to normal as Paige takes off the strap. You almost could still feel her inside you and she’d never let you forget it. 

Finally, you gather the strength to speak, “You felt so good.”

Paige laughs as she slides the box underneath your bed. “You always take it like a princess.”

You laugh as your body is still trying to recover from being completely wrecked just a few minutes ago. Paige climbs into your bed, lying down beside you and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you closer to her. You lay your head on her chest, tracing random shapes on her abs. “I love you,” you whisper to her.

She kisses your head and pulls you as close as she can to her. “I love you too, princess.” You’re a smiling mess as you lie with her and enjoy the feeling of being in her arms. That is, until she speaks up, “So, you got any Tru Fru in the freezer?”

[starry-bi-sky]

i've mentioned in a few past posts about an au where Danny is a variant of Jason Todd. I haven't made a post about it yet because I need a good rhythm flowing however i've been listening to Gladiator by Jann and I have been having thoughts.

but first, let me set the au:

Danny Fenton is Jason Todd, or at least, a variant of him. A him from a universe separate to the major Batman timeline - but still Jason Todd, down to the structure of his face and his name itself. The only thing that changes, is who picks him up - and, that he follows old Batman canon, and was an orphan. Jason Todd steals the tires off the batmobile and wallops Batman with his tirejack, and then runs off. Shortly after, he gets picked up by the Fentons.

(Customary line break,,,, word count check: 5k)

And his name changes from Jason Todd to Danny Fenton. He doesn't care much for the new name change, it stems from his mute refusal to share his name to the people that picked him up; an attempt to make him untraceable should he get away from them, and to keep something of his to himself. So they name him something new. He grows to like it enough as he acclimates to his new family.

(He hangs onto the name Jason Todd like a secret - he may be 'Danny Fenton' now, but he'll never forget his time on Gotham's streets. He'll always be Jason Todd.)

(Jazz is the only one who he tells his name to in the family - she affectionately calls him Jay whenever she wants.)

He becomes friends with Sam and Tucker and deals with Dash and his bullying. And when Danny steps in during a fight between Dash and another student, Dash gives him a bleeding nose and mockingly says, "Do you think you're Robin just because you're from Gotham, Fenton?"

Jason looks him in the eyes and he bares his teeth, "Why not?" he asks, spitting blood, "being Robin gives me magic."

The nickname sticks. It's supposed to be an insult; Daniel Fenton is not Robin, he'll never be Robin. Not now, not in a million years. Jason Todd has always wanted to be Robin, so he takes the insult and wears it proudly. He buys a school varsity jacket and painstakingly undos the stitching of all the school's motif on it. On the breast of it, he embroiders in a black circle with the Boy Wonder "R" on it instead. It's not good stitching, but the next day Danny wears it down to breakfast and into school.

In normal au canon, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton (its a mouthful, just call him Danny) only meets the Waynes after he becomes Phantom - an event that leans more towards Daniel Fenton's accident than Jason Todd's death, but traumatizes him all the same. (Is it too much to want to be mourned? His best friends like to deny that he died - and Danny - Jason? - wishes they wouldn't, even if he did come back.)

(The accident embitters him, even more when his parents don't seem to pick up on it. He stops calling himself Danny Fenton - he's always been Jason Todd. It shows itself in his ghostly form. He doesn't want to wear the thing he died in, not in something that belongs to the Fentons, and his suit reflects that.)

In this timeline, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton, aged 13, meets Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne after a mishap with magic on the other end of the reality sends the three of them careening through time and space, and spat back out on the other end, in a world not their own. And together.

Danny is paired with a very confused Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. Luckily, there's a few heroes there to help them. Danny can hardly comprehend the idea that he's in another universe - he doesn't know why Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne are seemingly handling it well.

On their way to a secondary base with the heroes, Danny turns to Bruce Wayne and asks, "So, is it part of rich-person training that you're just totally chill with being sent into another universe, or are you just weird?"

Bruce Wayne huffs at him, rather than get offended, and he smiles that dumb lopsided billionaire smile that Danny's seen on every vogue magazine he's been in. "I'm not so worried with these skilled heroes here to help us get home."

Danny silently concludes that he's just weird. At least Dick Grayson is biting back a smile behind him. "Riiiight..." He says, dragging the vowel out dryly.

When they get to that secondary location -- a safehouse that one of the heroes had set up -- the three of them are sat in a living room-like room while one hero, Zatanna, goes and calls someone from the Justice League. The other two heroes stay with the three of them.

Within a few hours, Danny is face to face with Batman - someone who he hasn't seen since he whacked him in the stomach with a tire iron - and Nightwing. For a moment, Danny swears that the both of them look almost spooked by him.

Batman stares at him for a moment when he enters, and then he goes to speak with Bruce Wayne. Danny doesn't care enough to hear what they're talking about, he pulls out his phone as Nightwing goes to speak with Dick Grayson.

"Are you a fan of Robin, little man?" Someone says, and when Danny looks up he locks eyes with Dick Grayson -- who is leaning around Nightwing to talk to him, the both of them are smiling. And considering who Nightwing was, Danny finds himself turning pink to the ears.

But he will not hide his jacket. He forces a grin through his embarrassment, "Hell yeah, man, Robin's cool." He says, and pushes his arms down to pull out the hem of his letterman, showing off the emblem. "I made it m'self out of a school varsity after the A-Listers started callin' me Robin."

"A-Listers?"

"Popular kids," Danny corrects, loosing his hold on the hem and brushing invisible wrinkles out of the embroidery. "They didn't like that I kept stepping in when they were bullying. Dash asked me if i thought I was Robin because I was from Gotham."

Dick Grayson looks intrigued -- and concerned, and he leans forward onto his knees and raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

And Danny grins a shark-like thing, straightening back his shoulders with a burning sort of smug pride and all the sharpness of broken glass left in Crime Alley. "I told him being Robin gave me magic, and then I punched him."

Dick Grayson's smile widens, splitting into showing teeth as he leans back into his seat. Danny isn't sure why he's so delighted - but Nightwing looks incredibly amused, and he suddenly remembers that the Robin himself was there in front of him.

Danny's face burns anew and his arms fold themselves in front of him once again.

"I don't think I ever caught your name, Robin." Dick Grayson goes, his voice thick with laughter, and Nightwing steps off to the side as Batman and Bruce Wayne walk over to join them both. They're just close enough that Danny can see Bruce Wayne raise an eyebrow at them both.

"It's Jason." Danny says before he can think about it, and barely stops himself from frowning at himself for the slip. He amends himself, glancing over at Batman and Bruce as they get closer. "But everyone calls me Danny."

Dick Grayson's head recoils slightly, and he looks a little surprised. "Why Danny?" He asks.

"Why Dick?" He shoots back, and Bruce and Dick both smile at him, with Dick Grayson shrugging with an expression that looks like 'you've got a point.'

In the end, the three of them - yes, three - get sent to this world's Wayne Manor, and Danny is bewildered by that decision to include himself -- he's not a Wayne. Why not just send him to the Fentons?

Batman tells him that the Fentons don't exist in this world, and Danny falls silent. "Oh." He says quietly, a pit growing in his stomach with an ill-kind of dread. He can't keep Batman's gaze, looking away with unease.

No Fentons in this world. No Fentons. Where was he then, in the grand scheme of things? Where was he in this world? What happened to Jason Todd? Was he even alive? He can't keep the worry off his face, and he jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he looks up, Dick Grayson squeezes him gently.

Dick Grayson is steadily beginning to remind him of his sister.

-

They end up driving back in the Batmobile. It's such a shock to Danny that he momentarily forgets the lack of Fentons. He makes a laugh sound, actually, and immediately he covers his hand with his mouth and stares at the car -- tank? with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

"Jason?" Dick says, and hearing his name being spoken feels like someone touched him with a livewire. It's weird, it's foreign - he hates, in some way, that it's foreign - and it's so nice. Yes, that's me.

He drops his hand immediately. "Sorry." He says, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks, "I -uh, was just surprised."

"It's not every day someone sees the Batmobile." Dick agrees. Nightwing has his back to them but Danny swears he sees his shoulders shaking a little.

"Yeah," Danny nods slowly, dragging his eyes over the batmobile as Batman opens the driver's side and gets in. He thinks for a moment, of what he should say next - whether to admit that he's seen it before, or to pretend that he's seeing it for the first time. Snd as Nightwing opens the door for him, Bruce, and Dick, he chooses the funnier option; "The last time I saw it, I was stealing its tires."

To his surprise and unsurprise, Danny only gets two pairs of eyes on him. Nightwing gets into the passenger seat as both Bruce and Dick turn their gaze onto him; Dick's eyes big like they were going to bulge out of his head.

"You what!?"

So Danny tells an amazed Dick Grayson that he hit Batman with a tire iron after he stole his tires - something he is very proud about and also incredibly embarrassed about when he retells what happened in the backseat of the batmobile, with Batman and Nightwing listening in from the front seat.

(Bruce Wayne doesn't ever tell Dick shit, he's going to lord this over Bruce's head the moment they are alone.)

"Please tell me this didn't happen in this world." Danny groans behind his palms as he sinks into his seat. Dick Grayson is killing himself laughing on his left, and he saw Bruce Wayne stifling a smile before he obscured his vision with his hands.

Much to his luck, its Batman himself who speaks next, (Danny was being mostly rhetorical). "It did." He says, and his voice sounds like the rumble of the earth before a stampede. It will never not throw Danny off every time he hears it. "It takes quite a lot of spunk to steal the tires off the batmobile."

He can't believe it. Batman is making fun of him. Fucking, Batman.

He wants to die with embarrassment. He groans even louder as Dick Grayson's laughter crescendoes. Danny risks a peak through his fingers, he doesn't know whether to regret it or not because he can just barely see Batman smirk very faintly from his position in the middle.

(His world axis tilts five degree leftways seeing it; like someone dunked a bucket of ice water on him.)

"He ended up being adopted by the Bruce Wayne of this world."

Danny's hands drop with his jaw into his lap. Dick Grayson on his left chokes on his laughter and careens into a coughing fit. Bruce Wayne on his right chokes on air, and quickly recovers himself with a cough behind a closed fist.

"What?" Danny croaks.

-

Apparently, Bruce Wayne's family is much larger in this world than it is in his. Danny can barely wrap his head around the idea that he ends up adopted by the man, but now he has to learn that Wayne had several children in this world?

He's still not wrapped his head around it when the three of them wind up at Wayne Manor, finally, or even when he's standing in front of him himself. For his effort, Bruce Wayne does a good job at looking unruffled by it.

God, he's weird. Danny's starting to quite like it, actually. How human of him.

He still can't wrap his head around it when he meets the rest of Bruce Wayne's children, all of whom are already aware of the three of them. Danny thinks that someone from the Justice League might've alerted them before they got here.

It makes sense, he supposes.

It helps that they are just as weirded out as he is. A boy named Tim Drake sees him for the first time and blurts out; "Oh wow, you're tiny." In a tone like he's just seen a two-headed snake burst out of the ground.

Danny is still offended. He's still growing. It's not his fault he spent twelve years of his life malnourished. "I'm gonna be taller than you," he tells him seriously, "and when I do I'm gonna kick your ass."

Tim snorts at him.

The other Bruce Wayne -- Mr. Wayne's -- youngest looks at him up and down with a face of carefully controlled judgement. His name is Damian, he's Bruce Wayne's only biological son. Danny can't believe that there's only one.

If anything, Bruce Wayne himself looks surprised too.

"Todd, yes?" Damian says, his green eyes narrowed at him.

Danny feels like the specimen under his parents' microscope, he feels like he's standing on a platform that's being slowly spun by scientists. He looks over at Bruce Wayne in confusion, and then back at Damian. "I- yes?"

Damian Wayne nods, and then leaves.

Danny does not once see himself. That is unsettling in and of itself - surely Jason Todd would have been told about another version of himself in this world, wouldn't he? How old is he here? An adult, probably. Danny doesn't know if he wants to see him. What does he look like when he's grown up? He pulls his Robin jacket around him a little tighter, like a cocoon, like a shield.

"It's weird to hear them call me Jason Todd." He says aloud to himself, and it leaves a weight behind in his chest that shouldn't hurt the way it does. It shouldn't be weird to be called your name. It shouldn't cobweb up your throat to hear your name being said. It was his name. It was his.

-

Danny acclimates to the manor slowly. The house is big, massive. He's never been in a house so large before, he feels like a stray cat being taken in for the first time, again. He and Bruce and Dick Grayson are all given their own separate rooms - one of many inside this mansion - and the sheer size of his bedroom is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined.

it's daunting. Danny sits outside on the balcony and stares at the stars he can see - Wayne Manor is far enough away from Gotham that its light pollution doesn't obscure the sky here like it did in the heart of it.

Danny finds the constellations he can find and wishes he had his books with him. He finds the library the next day and buries himself in the back, curling up into a comfy armchair next and inhaling each book he can get his hands on.

Tim Drake wanders past him at some point, Danny would have missed him if it weren't for the fact that Drake stared at him strangely when he saw him. He walks away when he realizes Danny was staring back.

It's a rinse and repeat for the next few days. Danny doesn't go to meals, he sneaks food from the kitchen afterwards, and then buries himself in hundreds of books in the library.

Dick Grayson, the one from his world, goes and finds him three days later. Danny's eyes hurt with strain by then, but he is furiously halfway through a Jane Austen novel when Dick sits down across from him.

"Have you been here all day?" Dick asks, he drapes himself across the side of his chair, contorting himself into a position that Danny doesn't think is comfortable when he looks up at him.

Not that he looks up at him long - he hums absently and goes back to reading. Frowning when he realizes he lost his place on the page.

Dick Grayson raises an eyebrow, "Have you at least eaten anything?"

Danny hums. No, he hasn't, and he hadn't thought about eating all day. Until now that is, his frown ever deepening as his stomach pangs with a deep hunger.

"That's not healthy."

"Mhm."

"Are you going to eat something?"

"Mhhh."

And this gets Dick to frown. He straightens himself up, propping onto his elbows to stare at Danny. "Jason." He says strongly. And it's that that gets Danny to finally look up from his page, jumping like he'd again been poked with a live wire as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.

"Yes?"

"Put the book down." Dick orders, gesturing towards the side table next to Danny with a nod. "And come eat something." There's very little room for argument in his voice, he sounds like Jazz when she's trying to parent him, but instead he actually sounds authoritative. Not bossy.

Danny still frowns at him. "You're not the boss of me." He says, sinking back into his chair with a thumb bookmarking his page.

Dick gives him a look and makes a decisive noise, swaggling his head side to side while he does. "I'm pretty sure that for as long as we're here, me and B actually are the boss of you."

He's never really liked authority figures, not ones that tried to boss him around, that is. Danny doubles down, his lips curling into a shadow of a scowl. "Just because you're my brother in another world doesn't mean you can act like it."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I don't want to go eat."

"It's not good for you to skip meals."

"Quit talking like Jazz."

"Danny."

Danny sinks his teeth into his lip and scowls darkly at him, shrinking into the back of his armchair in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. The idea of going into that large fucking dining room fills him with a dread that makes him completely forget his appetite.

"Your fucking- dining room is- it's too big." He grits out, finally closing his book and hugging it tightly to his chest.

Dick blinks at him. "What?"

"You heard me! It's too big. This whole place is too big. It's- what do you even do with this much space? I don't know how this- other me ever lived here."

Dick Grayson surprises him, and his expression softens. "Oh," he says, "I get it."

"You do?" The tension bleeds slowly out of Danny's shoulders

"Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved in with Bruce. I lived with the circus for most of my life, but I slept in a trailer." He says. And he talks more.

The end result of their conversation ends with Dick Grayson offering to let Danny sit across or next to him during mealtimes, and that he can talk to him if he starts getting uneasy. But he can't keep skipping meals - it was making them all worried.

Danny agrees, and Dick takes him down to the kitchens for food.

"They look at me weirdly too." He grumbles as they leave the library, Danny's book returned to the shelf where it belonged. When Dick looks at him curiously, he scrunches his nose up. "The - your other siblings. They look at me like I'm- I'm someone else. S'weird."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, "You are someone else."

Dany shrugs, staring at the ground with a heavy frown. "I don't know."

-

Danny seeks out Dick more after that. And vice versa. Dick reminds Danny of Jazz, and he latches onto the familiarity like a leech. If Dick is bothered by it, he doesn't show it, whether he's talking to his other world's self, to the Bruce's, or to one of the other Wayne kids.

Damian Wayne seems particularly keen to seek him out, Danny finds. He thinks it means that they're close in this world, and that Damian wants to see more of what a young Dick is like. That's what he would do, at least.

He takes up on Dick's offer of seating near him during dinner, and finds an open spot across from him. Unless he has something to show him, then he sits next to him.

("You can call me Jason." He tells him one day when they're in the Wayne's massive, fuck-off gym and they're both climbing over the jungle gym. Dick's showing him how to be more flexible. It's the most Danny's worked out ever, he likes the burn it gives him.

Dick looks at him in surprise, "Really?" he's doing a handstand on the bars and Danny's more than a little jealous at his balance.

"Yeah, dipshit," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'll even let you call me Jay, it's my nickname."

Dick happily takes him up on that offer, and much to Danny's embarrassment, starts calling him Jaybird. All because of his stupid Robin jacket.)

Danny has yet to meet his other self still, it's scaring him a little. Where was he? And matter of fact, how long until he could go back to his home dimension? The three of them hadn't gotten any updates since they arrived.

Speaking of, he was starting to talk to Bruce more, it was just... strange. Even stranger than talking to Dick. Bruce Wayne in another life would have been his adoptive father, Danny can't wrap his head around it for the life of him.

Whatever did Bruce Wayne see in Jason Todd that made him worth adopting? He's too afraid of the answer to ask. They start talking more after they run into each other late at night. Danny had been hit with a bout of insomnia and was going to the library.

He ran into Bruce on the way. He was just.. staring, out the window, with a faraway look in his eye. He didn't even look startled to see Danny standing there.

Danny asks him if he wants to go to the library with him. It was out of panic. He isn't expecting Bruce Wayne to agree, and they walk there in suffocating silence. Danny keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye.

("You're staring?" Bruce doesn't sound upset, Danny jumps anyway.

"Yeah, sorry." his voice sounds stilted, "it's just..." his jaw wires itself shut for a spell, "...you looked like you were about to disappear."

"Ah.")

When they reach the library, Danny leads Bruce Wayne into the science section and takes out books upon books about stars. He leads him over to the armchair and fire and they both sit down on the ground.

"When I lived in Gotham I would stargaze." Danny says, it's the first thing he can think of. Bruce Wayne looks at him quizzically. "Well, I would try to. The sky's too polluted for that. Mostly I would just watch the skyline and try and spot Batman and Robin, was the same thing."

That cracks a smile out of Bruce. It's a small one, barely there. "I hardly think the two are comparable."

Danny is still serious. "Not to me."

He goes on, talking about how after he was adopted he got his hands on every star book he could find. He loves english and he loves to read, but something about the stars drew him in like a song. He rambles about every star fact he knows with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne surprises him by telling him facts he didn't know. Danny soaks it up like a sponge, listening intently to him speak. And when they run out of star books to talk about, Danny tells Bruce that it was his turn to find something for them to talk about.

Bruce Wayne smiles again at him, a sly little thing like Danny's challenged him, and gets up. He comes back with a stack of film books, and they spend the next few hours going through them. Bruce Wayne rattles off every single movie fun fact he knows, and there is so much that he knows.

Danny is in awe, and moves to press against Bruce's side to see the stuff he points at in his books.

"You're smarter than people give you credit for." He says at some point, when his eyes hurt from being open for too long and his head leans against Bruce's arm for support. It follows with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tries and fails to stifle.

"Thank you, Danny." Bruce says, his voice soft and soothing and not helping with Danny's weighing exhaustion. His eyes drift, and then jerk open. "Do you want to go back to your room? You look tired, chum."

He bites back a smile at the nickname, and fails to keep it bitten. "No, no, I'm awake." He mumbles, shaking his head slowly. "I wanna hear-" he yawns again, "-hear you talking."

Danny swears he can hear the smile in Bruce's voice as he speaks; "Alright. Now, where was I?"

In the end, Danny falls asleep on the floor of the library next to Bruce Wayne. He doesn't even realize it until he wakes up the next morning. But it's not to worry, Bruce Wayne fell asleep too, an arm thrown around Danny protectively like he was his own kid.

This becomes a thing for them soon enough. When neither of them can sleep, they go to the library and talk and talk about whatever comes to mind.

There comes the dreaded night after they've finished whatever book they were looking at when Bruce, the little shit, turns to Danny and goes; "You never mentioned what happened after you hit Batman with a tire iron."

Danny groans, big and dramatic, burying his head in his arms, and ignores the low chuckle. "I thought he was gonna chase me down for sure." He complains, his voice muffled by his arms.

"Why did you hit him with a tire iron?"

The look Bruce gets is one of pure disbelief. "If Mothman suddenly showed up behind you while you were taking the wheels off his ride, you'd hit him too!"

"Last time I checked, Mothman isn't real." Bruce told him amusedly, and Danny flops over onto his back to stare him down. His arms sprawl out like a starfish, intentionally hitting Bruce in the shoulder.

"You don't know that, Batman's a cryptid and he's real."

Bruce roars with laughter, and Danny preens like a bird.

That next morning when Bruce passes by him for breakfast, he reaches over and ruffles his hair. It's the same thing he does for Dick every morning. It's the first of many, and it gets many stares from the surrounding family.

Bruce has a newspaper tucked under his arm, and when he sits down Danny stands up and skedaddles over to him, leaning over the side of his chair to peer at the paper.

"Any cryptids spotted, Buzz?" He asks, getting a startled laugh out of Bruce, who looks up at him.

"Buzz?"

"Well, yeah," and Danny states it as matter-of-fact. He gestures his head at Dick Grayson. "Dick calls you 'B', and B is for bees, and I can't just call you Bees, that's dumb. So; Buzz."

He grins triumphantly when Bruce laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly. "I know," he tilts his head up proudly, "I'm a genius."

Now he's actually laughing, dropping his head into one of his hands and trying to quiet himself as much as possible. Danny is positively beaming, ignoring the stares of the other Waynes as he flounces back to his seat just as the other Mister Wayne enters the room.

-

When Jason Daniel Fenton Todd meets Jason Todd for the first time, they both just stare at each other.

Danny recognizes himself immediately in the library, and he freezes up. His tongue ties to the roof of his mouth, and he's unsure of what to say.

He doesn't need to say anything at all, because when Jason Todd looks up and they lock eyes, they both just stare. And stare. Jason Todd is a large, hulk of a man, built like a brick shithouse, with a tired, traumatized look in his eyes and a white streak in his black curls. The same black curls that Danny himself has.

He has no idea what to say. Or if he should turn back around and leave.

Jason Todd sighs at him, "I know they told me you and another world's Bruce and Dickie were here," he says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself. Even moreso when he mutters half-heartedly, "-but I was hoping I wouldn't run into you."

Danny feels small next to him. He doesn't know why. "Sorry." He says lamely, his one foot skips back, "I can leave if you want." It's unlike him to be meek, he thinks. Not after years of Gotham living and dealing with the likes of Dash and his Jerk Jocks.

But this also isn't the streets, and this isn't other kids being dicks. Jason Todd shakes his head, and gestures with one large arm for Danny to come over. "You don't need to do that, you were coming to read, right?"

He nods, and tentatively makes his way over. When Jason looks at him, he sees him cast his eyes over his Robin jacket - he wears it everyday. Danny sees him narrow his eyes, just slightly. But he says nothing.

It's... a strange conversation. Interaction. Jason Todd doesn't talk to him much, and if he does it's stilted and awkward, like he doesn't know how to treat him. Like he's holding him at arm's length.

Jason's getting tired of being treated like a ghost.

They talk about their books. They compare lives. Jason Todd was picked up a few days after he stole the wheels of the batmobile. He wasn't an orphan, he lived with his mom and his stepdad before he lived with Bruce. They both like to read, only Danny has an interest in the stars.

("What do your adoptive parents do?" Jason Todd asks him, one arm slung over the back of the armchair, he looks relaxed. He looks tense. Danny feels like he's back in Crime Alley again.

"They're 'ectologists'." He says, making air quotes over the word. He rolls his eyes, "Ghost hunters. They study the dead and all things afterlife."

Jason Todd makes a dry laugh huff, a sarcastic half-smile on his face. He doesn't explain why he does, Danny doesn't ask why. It doesn't seem like his business.)

Danny wants to ask him where he got that white streak in his hair. It doesn't feel right. It feels like his parents' lab, and that isn't right. Nothing ever feels like his parents' lab.

Jason Todd leaves first after giving him a few book recommendations. Danny isn't sure how to rate the experience. Being in Jason Todd's presence was like standing in a liminal space. An empty parking lot at night. When he leaves it feels like much the same thing.

He struggles to read his books afterwards, unable to shake the feeling of being haunted.

[odyssiaca]

odysseus is generally seen as 'morally ambiguous' due to his not always being seen as the best of people- but this is a very modern and feminist take, and whilst nothing is inherently wrong with the idea of feminist takes and retellings, it skews what we have and already know of the myths, and this can be seen most predominantly in the character of odysseus. odysseus is two things:

- not meant to a hero

- not meant to be good

he is written as a man faced with impossible odds, and who loses some- if not all- of his morality in doing so. BUT where does the idea of him being 'bad' come from? the penelopiad by margaret atwood, a woman known for being quite vitriolic towards men of any kind. in recent years, people have picked up on three major things from the odyssey:

- the hanging of the maids

- odysseus cheating on his wife

- odysseus going mad at the end

NOW, to break it into points:

the hanging of the maids is so often seen in a feminist light due to margaret atwood, where odysseus is painted as some cruel, vile, disgusting predator who loathes women. this isn't true to the odyssey AT ALL. in the odyssey it is explicitly stated by the nurse that raised telemachus: 'i shall single out those who betrayed you, my lord' and by one of the maids herself- melantho: 'if we sleep with the suitors, when they become king we will be in favour with him.' and THIS is why he killed the maids. not because he was insane, not because he was bad, but because they had betrayed not just him- but his wife. not all the maids were killed, only those who slept with the suitors. the argument most often used for this is that the women couldn't say no, but this goes against what the maids themselves say in the odyssey when they believe no one to be watching.

odysseus cheating on his wife HE DIDN'T. but he is a man, and as a man, he cannot be raped. he is a terrible man for sleeping with circe and calypso when he could have- as epic decides to say- say no. which is untrue!! these are goddesses. titanesses. circe is the daughter of helios, and calypso is daughter of atlas. they could overpower him simply by looking at him. circe turned his men to pigs, even with the moly she could have easily done the same- or worse- to him. the idea of him choosing to and being unfaithful stems from madeline miller's, Circe which whilst not inherently bad, goes out of its way to put all men in a terrible light, because the heroes deserves no rights in feminist retellings. odysseus wanted to say no, but could not as hermes explicitly told him he couldn't. on the flip side, calypso threatens, ensnares him and only releases him when told to by hermes and the council of the gods. in the odyssey it is literally stated: 'and odysseus stayed on the shores weeping for home before joining the nymph in her bed.' he did not WANT to sleep with calypso, but was left with no other choice but to do so. this is a recurring theme for calypso.

but he is blamed due to his gender, and the idea of 'feminism' and 'patriarchy'.

and now, the real reason for odysseus being seen badly:

the telegony the telegony is a myth written after the odyssey with telegonus- son of circe and odysseus- as the main character. in this he travels to find his father and meet him, but accidentally kills him on the shore. (peneleope marries telegonus, and circe marries telemachus) but this is where the idea of odysseus' insanity comes from. in the telegony, it is stated he went mad after the war, and couldn't survive without bloodshed, and so he went out seeking war, and women, and battle, and went mad in this.

the statement: 'generous to odysseus' is wholly unfair, because he is a man forced to lose everything, assaulted, violated, tortured and imprisoned with no hope of survival. he goes to war knowing he won't return for 20 years, won't see his wife, and won't watch his son grow. he is a man not a god, or a demigod. he's just some dude doing his best.

[plushiesssforcrying]

Bluebells.

୨୧ chapters ┊ memories. / day 2.

୨୧ character ┊ telemachus.

୨୧ pronouns ┊ she / her.

୨୧ contents ┊ reader is so mysterious. majority of this is from telemachus' pov. takes place a bit after song 28. slowburn esque... happy valentine's ig.

A cloak wrapped around his figure, Telemachus made his way through the bustling crowd of the market. He scanned the different stalls with furrowed brows, simply trying to find a distraction. A distraction from all the pressure at the palace.

The pressure to be like his father who he's yet to know and meet, who he's still conflicted whether he should resent him for leaving his mother or praise him for being brave enough for heading into war head on as the king of Ithaca.

The pressure to protect his mother from the suitors who had overrun the palace. He had gone above and beyond to make sure that the suitors never bothered her, especially since she started weaving the shroud. While she never demanded him to protect her, he always felt like it was his responsibility.

Although today was different, he had an eventful day of getting beaten up by Antinous and meeting the pallas Athena— who decided that she'll train him and aid him in finding his father.

He only sighed, finding most of the stalls to be of the norm. That is until his eyes landed on a lone shop in the middle of the marketplace. Behind the stall stood a hooded figure busying themselves by rearranging the plants with gloved hands, the other stalls even distanced themselves from them.

He stared in interest and curiousity. It did look a bit different than the other shops, with signs of caution placed around it. What kind of booth would need those? Not long after, he approached with caution just as the signs warned.

The figure took notice of him almost immediately, “Hello and welcome.” she called out in a calm tone. Most of her features was concealed by the hood, her smile being the only visible part of her face. She waited patiently as he takes in the vibrant, colorful floras on display. On the side, he noticed a few strange liquids in glass bottles.

As Telemachus reached for one of the flowers, the shopkeeper was quick to gently grip his wrist. She held up a finger, slowly letting go of him. “Careful now. I have signs for a reason, young man.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He sheepishly retracted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Curiously, he asks. “But... these flowers. Are they really that dangerous? And why are you selling them?”

The shopkeeper's smile never faltered, instead looking more entertained at the young man's questions. They brought a hand under their chin, thinking of how to answer him.

“Well, they're not to be dealt with recklessly that's for sure. As for why I'm selling them... these are flowers I've collected from my travels. They aren't as easily found here.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, finding her reasoning strange but who is he to question what strangers do in their free time. His gaze fell on a vibrant blue flower, hung like a bell. He curiously pointed at it, never taking his gaze off as he asked.

“Does this one do anything?” The shopkeeper followed his hand before gently picking up the flower with her gloved hands. He swore he saw some scales that spotted her arms when she reached out, but they were quickly covered up as she presented one of the many she had on display.

“Indeed. The bluebell is highly toxic to most living beings, I don't recommend them as a gift. Perhaps just a decoration to keep pests away.”

“Although, funnily enough,” She continued, her fingers softly brushing against the petals of the flower. “Bluebells represents gratitude and everlasting love.”

“It is said that if you turn a bluebell flower inside-out without tearing it, you will win the one you love.” She remarked dreamily as she intertwined her fingers with the stem between her hands, though it seemed she had a joking tone underneath it, it's hard to tell for sure under the cloak.

She turned to the young man once more, the flower in hand being held in front of his face. Close enough for him to smell it, yet far enough for him to not touch it. Telemachus was caught off guard, the sickeningly sweet scent of the bluebell overwhelming his mind.

She spoke, her tone suddenly shifting into a more eerie, yet still cheerful tone.

“Such a strange mix, isn't it? To be the symbol of immortality, only for people to be unable to gift you as a present without risking the life of the one they love.”

Before he could respond, she pulled away and gingerly placed the flora down in its place again. He watched her movement carefully, intrigued and cautious of her fluctuating mood and words. The prince's hand couldn't help but instinctively graze the handle of his sword under his cloak, a motion that didn't go unnoticed by the woman but wasn't acknowledged either.

There was a strange air surrounding this cloaked woman and Telemachus was more than aware of it. Their interaction the past ten minutes had been nothing short of odd antics after another. With light suspicion, he tried to keep a light tone in his voice.

“Well, that is a... grim take on it..?” He remarked with a hesitant smile after what felt like, hours of silence. He sounded a lot more uncertain than he'd like but she didn't seem to mind it.

No, not at all. She was thoroughly entertained, evident in the cheeriness in her laughter after his comment. Whether she was laughing at his underlying fear or simply at his awkwardness was something he didn't, but desperately wants to know.

The woman simmered down, waving her hand dismissively. Her other hand busied itself with rearranging some pouches behind the booth that Telemachus couldn't see. “Ah, don't let me bore you. Please, feel free to ask anymore questions and if you prefer, I have some... potions too.”

“They're mildly safe.” She leaned in closer, a hand cupping one side of her mouth. She couldn't help the hint of teasing in her words and if Telemachus wasn't wary of her before, he definitely was now.

He glanced down at the vibrant assortment, the vendor waiting patiently and humming to herself as she await for him to make a choice. His grip on his sword only tightened under his cloak.

It seemed that she's skilled in some kind of witchcraft since she mentioned potions, so why not sell potions instead and make a profit instead of bothering with dangerous flowers that rarely anyone would bat an eye at? Although, admittedly, they are quite eye-catching.

Instead of picking something to bring home, he pointed at the plants. His brows furrowed and expression doubtful. “I don't mean any offense but... is there anyone that's even buying these..?”

She let out a hum at his question, as if mocking a thought but she already knew her answer. “Once or twice, if I'm lucky that day.” Despite the pitiful words, she didn't seem upset, only continuing to fiddle with other plants behind the counter.

“Most come here for these.” She swirled a strange concoction that also had a few petals inside a round bottle in her hand. She doesn't explain further, putting the glass down as she pruned some plants hanging on the stall.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. She took notice of his action however and tilted her head curiously.

He bit his lip, “Nothing. Um, thank you for... indulging in my questions at this time.” He wanted to further interrogate her but he didn't want to look too suspicious. Other than her strange way of talking, she seemed pretty harmless anyway. What she was selling wouldn't be deemed as harmful either, considering she's put up warnings and has made it a point to make sure her surroundings were well observed so that no child could touch it.

“Why, of course. If you have any more, you know where to find me.” He swore she was winking under her hood with the way she moved.

He can't help but bit the inside of his cheek as he walked away, glancing behind him only to be met with the woman's curious smile. He quickly turned away and sped up his pace, flustered that he was caught.

Meanwhile, the cloaked woman stared at the prince who was quick to disappear into the bustling crowd. A curious one, she thought to herself. Perhaps troublesome, but it could be fun, wouldn't it?

She chuckled to herself at the thought, amused at how wary he was with her. She takes a seat on one of the baskets holding several other of her amenities. Guess only time will tell.

my favourite genre of x readers is making reader the mysterious one like wtf is up w this bitch?? ohh that's wtf is up w this bitch

[byuntrash101]

booksmart

f!reader x switch!mingi smut | mdni 3.1k maybe mingi didn’t make the smartest choice picking a stem major? because the classes proves themselves to be rather difficult especially when mingi as to learn about the female anatomy without having any “field knowledge” on the subject. but as his tutor it’s your duty to help him study, by all means necessary. nsfw tags under the cut

loser virgin!mingi with the glasses (i love him so much it hurts), also switch sub leaning!mingi, tutor!reader, use of anatomical terms (reader takes her tutoring job v srly) + clueless mingi (he's cute), exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral (f), mingi gets pussy drunk fassstttt, pet names (baby, good boy, babyboy), squirting, cum eating, cumming untouched

a/n: wrote this in a fever dream as i was crawling out of writer's block. i kinda love it did you know i loved mingi? yeah i do. he's cute and im weak for him. enjoy this <3

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Why? Oh why did Mingi have to choose a STEM major? Why didn’t he go towards something that was a little easier or, failing that, at least a little more fun! Like music! He liked music. Why didn’t he go to a more artistic major? He could be learning about different types of harmonies or the life stories of his favorite composers or even the advent of the greatest musical genres. But no, instead he was stuck here in his small student flat, pulling his hair out trying to cram his brain with the reproductive system. Hunched over the thick and worn out second hand textbook.

“I can’t” he said, calling it quits, whipping his big glasses off his nose and throwing his hands in the air in a rather dramatic manner. Which made you chuckle.

Of all your tutees Mingi was easily your favourite. Sure he was one of the most difficult ones because studying didn’t come naturally to him but still he was very endearing. There was something in the way he looked at you with round eyes when he was confused or how his lips curled on his teeth and made an asymmetrical smile when got the right answer. Mingi was just cute without even trying, despite his towering height, his low gravelly voice and his eyes that turned sharp (maybe even cold) when he was focussing. He was just cute. He may look cold but as soon as you get to know him he turns out to be an endearing goofball.

He might even be the sole reason you kept on tutoring this year even with your thesis coming close to the deadline, the research for internships and the immense amount of reading your professors required.

“Yes, you can!” you said pointing at the schema on the yellowed page.

“No I can’t! I’m not book smart!” Mingi said again, this time a little more whiny. “How can I memorize that when I've never even seen this…” he gestured to the anatomical sketch of the female reproductive system. “In real life.” He exhaled, seemingly not conscious of what he had just admitted, taking his head in his big hands.

Your head was spinning with the unprompted confession. And you both sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. Mingi in oblivious desperation and you in speechless astonishment. 

But an idea sprouted in your mind. If this lack of practical experience was the reason behind Mingi’s memory troubles, you reckon nature gifted you with everything that was presented in this textbook. Maybe empirical science would help in this case. The least you could do was try, that was only your duty as a tutor. 

Mingi was startled when he felt you lift from under his bent elbows and close the heavy textbook, making him look up through his fingers. You sighed deeply before continuing softly.

“Mingi,” you started, a kind of heaviness about the voice Mingi never heard before, the contrast with your normal “patient teacher" tone made him finally realize what he had said to you in a fleeting moment of desperate academic honesty. 

Mingi started to stammer, his heart rate skyrocketing, his eyes darting to every corner of the room trying to come up with an excuse to why he still was a virgin loser or better yet a quick lie that would make him appear like a totally cool guy that definitely pulled girls, yes, multiple girls. But nothing came to mind and he was completely silenced when you laid your hand over his thick thigh. 

“Mingi…Do you want me to show you?” you said, barely above a whisper, you felt his thigh tense under your touch as Mingi looked back at you, mouth agape like a fish out of the water and round clueless eyes. So you cleared your throat and talked in a more assured tone. “If it can help you study, I'm willing to show you mine” you said in one breath.

Mingi was no longer agitated. He wasn’t wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans or stammering or looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Now, his eyes were locked with yours, and he was an immovable statue. But it was only because he was absolutely dumbfounded. He was stunned into silence, his thoughts weren’t coming through, they were completely silenced by your voice, this weird combination of words that made the sentence you just spoke infinitely reverberate in his blank mind until he faintly nodded, unable to form a coherent train of thought anymore.

You nodded and smiled softly at him. Mingi didn’t even return the smile he kept on staring in disbelief. Even when you got up and pulled your chair from under his desk and turned it so you would perfectly face him and even when your hands slipped under your pleated skirt and pulled down your underwear. You glanced over at him when you tossed to the side the crumpled up piece of white lace and you smirked when you saw him finally close his mouth to thickly swallow as his eyes zeroed in on the undergarment discarded on his bedroom floor.

Before his eyes snapped back to you when you seated yourself on this chair, your hips scooted to the front and your back comfortably leaned on the office chairback. His eyes followed your every move as you placed one foot on the edge of the desk and the other leg bent and hanging in the air. You took a deep breath before lifting your skirt.

Mingi thought he was going to pass out as he fumbled to put his glasses back on, not even trying to put them on straight on his nose. His face was burning hot and his heart was absolutely hammering against his ribs, and rattling in his ears. He felt the frantic muscle doped with adrenaline pumping blood not only to his brain, making him lightheaded but also to his groin. 

Mingi had never laid eyes on anything more beautiful ever. You were so perfect he couldn’t describe it but he didn't want to look anywhere else ever again he wanted to keep on staring you right between the legs until he eventually died from thirst, hunger or sleep deprivation. He wanted to keep looking forever and ever.

You cleared your throat once again and ignored both the tingle in your lower stomach as you felt Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze on your most private part and the tent he was visibly pitching his jeans by now.

“See here is the labia majora” you started, making your voice as steady as possible. You looked up at him but it seemed like you were speaking to a brick wall, Mingi was entranced and wasn’t listening to a single word you were saying.

“Mingi!” you called his name firmly and his eyes snapped to yours. “Focus!” you scolded him.

“Yeah… s-sorry” he apologized sheepishly, his cheeks and ears going to an even deeper shade of pink.

“As I was saying, this is the labia majora and here is the labia minora.” you said as neutrally as possible trying to overlook the need that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach the more Mingi looked at you.

“M-majora and minora” Mingi repeated as diligently as possible.

“Good! Let’s take a closer look” you said before spreading your lips with both hands, offering Mingi a breathtaking view on your entrance. 

Mingi had to repress a gasp. He felt himself twitch as he saw your pink hole being spread open, he could quite literally see inside you. And as you did so some translucent liquid oozed out of you. He was pretty sure that wasn’t part of the anatomical drawing that was in his textbook. He never saw that even in the porns he had watched. All he knew was that the sight made his cock jump inside his tight pants and he bit his lip to keep a low groan behind his teeth as his pants were rubbing on his sensitive cockhead.

“And here-”

“Ex-excuse me” Mingi interrupted you hesitantly, “what is this liquid?”

Fuck.

You did your best to overlook the excitement and arousal that came along with the exercise and the way Mingi was eyeing you down, devouring you with each look and trying so hard to keep his hands at his sides. But your body eventually betrayed you. 

“That’s a lubricating fluid that is secreted by the Skene glands to facilitate coitus,” you said as steadily as possible. “That happens when a woman is aroused.”

Those words hit Mingi like a truck launched at full speed on the highway. You were aroused? Like right now? You were enjoying showing yourself like this to him? You liked having him look at you? He was feeling dizzy. He couldn’t imagine you (even if he was in fact witnessing it with his very eyes) getting hot and bothered because of him. That was all a dream. It had to be.

“Aroused?” Mingi repeated, more to himself than anything as he fixed his askew glasses pushing them up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly.

“There are other signs too” 

Mingi’s ears perked up. 

“Other signs?” He swallowed thickly. “C-can you show me? P-please” The last word was soaked with desperation and dripping with such despair, he sounded like a parched man begging for the sip of water that was going to save his life and when his eyes met yours you realized he was also looking the part.

“O-okay” you said, failing to maintain the self assured tone.

“When a woman is aroused more blood is pumped to her private area which causes swelling and changes in color.” you said drawing a sharp gasp as your fingers dipped to your entrance to spread your wetness over your folds. “See, right now” you pulled on the skin of your pubic bone, pulling on the hood of your clit, uncovering the swollen bud. “My clitoris is swollen”

“Fuck” Mingi let the whispered curse slither thought his teeth as he looked at the swollen bundle of nerves being revealed to his very eyes. At this point he felt like his cock was going to rip through his jeans but still he behaved accordingly and refused to acknowledge the poor member's pleas for attention.

“I have a question.”

“Y-yes” you breathed out, spreading more arousal on your touched starved pussy.

“Is it true that girls get the most pleasure from their clit?” he stated in one surprisingly coherent sentence. 

“Yes” you replied simply, your breathing becoming uneven. 

“Can you show me that too?”

Mingi was ready to risk it all. At this point he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow anymore. To be exact he wasn’t thinking at all anymore. He only knew he liked looking at you. He wanted to keep looking. He wanted to see it all.

“Okay” you started. “I’ll show you how I make myself feel good”. Mingi thought he was going to explode, spontaneously combust in front of you as he heard those words coming from your mouth. 

You started to draw small and slow circles on your swollen clit and Mingi could tell the enigmatic little nub loved the attention because you elicited a moan that hit him right in the chest. A sound he will never forget. Nothing like the pornographic high pitched screeches he was used to. This one was lower, more sultry and slower. Like the sound caught in your throat but eventually made it out into the world against your will. And you bit your lip right after, your eyes growing heavier, hazier. You looked so beautiful.

He looked at you rubbing your pretty pussy and drawing out all these beautiful sounds out of yourself, more slick gushing out of you as your pretty pussy pulsed and tensed. He was mesmerized, completely entranced by you 

“Does it feel good?” he asked as his eyes went back up to your pretty face being contorted by intense pleasure. 

“Yes, it does. I like when you look at me” you confessed looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Fuckkk” he sighed, his weeping cock twitching between his heavy thighs. “I like looking at you.”

You moaned again and picked up the pace, dipping to your entrance again to gather more wetness and dragging it up to your throbbing clit. The patterns you were drawing on your pussy were quicker and tighter, making you moan louder.

The squelching wet sounds erupting from the act made Mingi dizzy. How bad did he want to bend down and taste you, how bad did he want to get his tongue on your cunt, feel you throb under him as he lapped at you clit. He wanted to see you cum. He wanted to make you cum.

But he didn’t dare to touch you when you hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he stuck to the script. He didn’t even succumb to the desire to take his own cock out to stroke it as he looked at you and to be completely honest he was scared to be distracted from the breathtaking show. Even for a single second he didn’t want to take his eyes off you.

“See how my pussy… mnph… is clenching?” you struggled to say, short of breath, your hand not slowing down. Mingi nodded quickly, his eyes darting from your cunt to your face back to your pussy. “That means I’m close to climax” Mingi’s eyes grew twice their size as he nodded again, expectantly. 

“When a woman orgasms… oh f-fuck… the vagina spasms” you said, inching dangerously close to your release. “if you want you can put a finger inside and feel it”

Mingi was not about to turn down such a generous proposition and nodded hastily. He hesitantly approached his hand, he didn’t really know what to do though so you took his wrist and guided his index through your fold, coating it in your juices and jolting at the contact before pushing his digit inside your tight heat with a low moan, it was just a finger but the stretch made it that much more pleasurable and you went back to rubbing your clit.

“Fuck… yess” you breathed. “Don’t move it”

Mingi couldn’t believe how warm and wet and tight you were, your pussy was lightly clenching around his finger everytime your fingers circled your clit.

“Do you feel it?” you asked, a little squeaky. Mingi nodded again.

“Yes. Y-you’re throbbing” he said peering at you over his large glasses you smiled.

“Yes it’s cause I’m very close” you kept on teasing your bundle of nerves. “Some women squirt when they orgasm” you started.

“Can you do that?” Mingi asked hurriedly, his eyebrows arching on his forehead, curious eyes close to bulge out.

“Y-yes.”

“Fuckkk… Can I please drink it?” Mingi blurted. “Please I wanna taste it so bad” He couldn’t stop the question that burned his tongue. He had been curious about that ever since he first saw it in a porn video and to see you do that. He couldn’t let his chance pass.

Seeing him like this, begging you to have a taste of you almost had you crossing the line but you held on.

“Yes, come closer” Mingi threw himself on his knees without thinking twice. “Open your mouth baby” Mingi bent over you, opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, his dick twitching again at the novel term of endearment. You entangled your fingers in his soft locks of hair and pushed on his face until his lips were pressed against your folds, making him moan against your cunt, his finger still stuck inside your heat.

“Such a good boy. So eager to learn” you praised and Mingi started to instinctively buck his hips against nothing, the wet patch in his boxers growing larger with each pathetic and useless thrust.

“Fuck” he said, finally getting some of your juices in his mouth as your fingers rubbed your clit and occasionally brushed on his tongue. “Tho kood” he said, keeping his tongue out of his mouth, patiently waiting. 

“Fuck keep looking at me touching myself for you babyboy” you grunted, pulling on Mingi's soft hair. The dull pain made him whimper against your soaked little cunt, urging him to rutt his hips faster.

“Fuck I'm gonna… fuckkkk… m’cumming” you said, finally slipping over the edge as a powerful stream of translucent liquid spurted out of you making Mingi instantly wrap his lips around your folds and drink as much of it as he could as he continued to pathetically hump the air. The wave of intense pleasure radiated your whole body making you shake and moan under Mingi’s hungry lips, your cunt taking a vice grip onto Mingi’s finger. You continued to circle your clit until the pleasure wore off and you finally came down from your high, out of breath but utterly satisfied. 

When Mingi emerged from between your thighs he was disheveled, dazed. His face was a mess: his lips were swollen and his glasses were crooked and spotted with droplets of your release. He was completely dazzled but he looked content.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly, closing your legs and flipping your skirt back, sitting back up straight.

“I came in my pants” Mingi declared, looking down at the dark blue wet patch on his jeans. “You looked so hot, you tasted so good… I- I-...and you called me a good boy… And I- lost it. I’m sorry I-” Mingi stammered again and you chuckled. You weren’t wrong about him. Mingi was definitely very cute.

“I hope you learned a lot today” you said, smiling warmly at him, and Mingi felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest. How can you look so heavenly, so undoubtedly innocent when two seconds ago you were pulling his hair, shoving his face in your wet pussy and making his virgin ass cum without even touching him?

“Yes. I learned a lot. More than I ever hoped for”

“Maybe next time we can practice what you learned today. Okay?” you smiled again, but there was a mischievous glint in your innocent doe eyes.

“You mean we-” Mingi started but you cut him by jumping onto your feet, grabbing your purse and heading to the door of his room. On your way you bent down and picked up the white lace panties before throwing them at Mingi.

“That's a little gift for you” He caught the undergarment and looked up at you through his wet lenses just as confused as ever. Classic Mingi. “Use it as study material okay?” He nodded again, without saying a word and you headed out the door.

“Class dismissed”

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. MINGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. thats it.

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[red-ropes-of-avalon]

Sukuna is the kinda guy who demands you get the proper amount of respect and will fight for you if it's not given. Absolutely nobody gets away with taking anything that's yours and claiming it as their own- because what's yours is also his.

Modern AU Blurb:

You were always rather unfortunate with lab partners when it was up to luck of the draw. Being a woman in STEM was never labeled as easy, and while your beloved boyfriend was as helpful as possible he couldn't take that burden away. Being a business major meant he knew all the excel tips and tricks, so he helped when he could. While you had never foreseen dating your roommate's older brother, it was an interesting dynamic. Anything you accomplished brought him pride, for your achievements were his too.

Finals week in your room was hectic- your direct roommate Nobara had her interior design papers everywhere. Some pinned on the wall, others strewed all over the floor. Your own Biochem notes sprawled all over a calendar whiteboard. Megumi and Yuji's room was a mess on only one side- Megumi's sources for an English paper written neatly on the whiteboard with checks next to the ones he has cited from, while Yuji's side generally always looked like a bomb had been dropped but now with added notes sprawled around. You were sprawled on the floor writing out an assignment for your Biochem lecture while Nobara sat at her desk above you.

Your email pinged- an email from your lab partner. You inwardly groaned not wanting Nobara to pick up on your distress. He had been emailing you all day for the final project that you'd be presenting tomorrow. The problem though was you had found out he had been using your excel file for the whole semester. All of the hours trying to bullshit excel into working, and all of Sukuna's help had been being used by him. Normally this wouldn't bother you but he was using it and claiming it to be his own work- taking all of the credit for your hard work. You flipped your phone down and turned your notifications off trying to focus on the paper you had to read.

You didn't even realize how many hours you had been working on this paper until Yuji was standing in the doorway. "Yo Y/N are you ok?" Looking up at Yuji you tilted your head slightly, confused why he was asking. "Sukuna's been texting you and you haven't responded. He's calling me and yelling at me." Your eyes widened, how long had you been laying here struggling to read this paper on PEPCK. "He's already on his way over here now. Just I guess be ready to explain why you weren't answering." You nodded quietly and began racking your brain for an excuse. You could say you were doing work, but that usually never warranted you turning on Do Not Disturb. If you told him about the actual problem he could blow it into something more than it's worth. You didn't even notice Yuji had disappeared from the door and Nobara stepped out.

Before your mind could stop running in frantic circles, Sukuna was now hulking in your doorframe. "Hey twerp, why weren't you answering me? Almost gave me a goddamned heart attack."

"Aw you missed talking to me did you?" You teased hoping to distract him.

"No dodging the question brat. You never turn your notifications off, so spill." Sukuna's eyes felt like they were piercing into your soul. You couldn't hide anything from him. His perception rivaled his intelligence even.

"I have a final presentation tomorrow for my Biochem lab. I have to do it with my lab partner and he's just been overwhelming me with emails. And...and I just found out he's been taking all the calculations I've been doing in the excel. Y'know the ones I need your help with sometimes because they take hours trying to get excel to work..." you trailed off eyes down.

"What are you going to do about it then twerp? Because if I don't get a good answer I'm taking that laptop and I'm sending an email to the professor for you."

"I was going to talk to her in person before we have to present. I'm just...y'know nervous." Sukuna sighed lowering himself to sit beside you on the floor, pulling you into him.

"If the professor doesn't handle it, I'll make sure someone else does. Now let me see this presentation. I'm assuming you made it since your one of the few competent individuals I know so this better be good." You smiled softly, switching tabs to the presentation you had formatted. The other group members had all their data in, and your heart dropped to your stomach when you found screenshots of your excel sheet placed in. Sukuna just ruffled your hair distracting you from the panic filling your heart. "At least you know the data is right, don't work yourself up over this or else you'll mess up your part. Don't forget what's yours is mine so you gotta make me proud."

---------

I wrote this while upset because I found out my lab partner has been using my excel sheet all semester and taking credit for all my work hahah. Love being a woman in STEM.

[saytrrose]

what's ur favorite kinger headcannon :0

I like to headcanon his life post circus because it’s so much more open to explore! I can’t possibly pick a favorite

—————

- Was a choir kid

- Fav subject was science

- Hit highschool and still did choir but did a tech program where he goes to another campus for his extracurriculars to pursue his associates early because he was an A student and good at school.

- Graduates highschool, decided not to pursue choir because he got a full ride scholarship to a good school for his great attendance/grades and to major in computer science.

- Great student, rarely acted out and went to college already with his associates.

- Breezed through his classes but prioritized studying over clubs or making friends

- Began to struggle with his mental health and being lonely, his roommate invited him to just go to dinner with his big friend group just once to take a break and try to socialize, Kinger reluctantly agrees, anxious.

- Insert Queenie. They click, because I’m pushing the “yo ur lowkey autistic I have a autistic friend do you want to meet her” ideal onto the roommate

- Kinger meshes decently well in the group, Queenie and Kinger are inseparable though, her even convincing him to join a stem society club since she’s pursuing entomology.

- Somewhere in this time Kinger finds himself doodling a tiny denture guy in the margins of his notes. (Kinger creates an oc?? Omg)

- Before they graduate, Kinger and Queenie start dating. Kingers first relationship- (his parent didn’t want him to date and to focus on school) but Queenie has had a few exes.

- Kinger pursues his Computer Science career, Queenie pursues her Entomology career and they are doing very well. They eventually get married.

- Kinger is inspired to create a software with the new discovery of Artifical Intelligence, interested in creating a sort of game that is engaging and can be a new experience and approach to technology through VR, a way for one to find an escape from reality completely, a way for someone to almost enter a whole new world.

- Kinger finds the best way to start off is by using his old character he designed as a mascot and guide, and he decides to name him like the Ai he is, Electronic Numerical Integrator And Computer. Aka Eniac.

- Queenie is the one to bring up that the characters name is a big peculiar, so Kinger finds a fun way to twist it around- flipping it backwards. His characters name is Caine.

- Speeding this up a bit, basically Kinger creates the game and company. I do really love this theory. I think all the people hired, that are apart of the company are Pomni, Gangle, Ragatha- all the others. As a way to test out the software, an employee would test run the game.

- It wasn’t long after did panic ensue, realization dawning that there wasn’t a way to reverse consciousness from the game, even after they ripped the headset off to wake up the employees.

- Kinger didn’t actually want to continue the game anymore after the second person went in, through updating the software and seeing if the new person could pull the old person out- but the same results happening.

- The attention of the disappearances only spawned suspicion and rumors, catching the eye of higher ups, that actually were so impressed and intrigued with the project they offered him to keep it going, to keep up what he was doing and send more people, and it really upset him.

- Long story short, his rebelliance only got him and his wife forced into the game themselves because they surely couldn’t be set free to shine light or speak on what was going on.

- The circus is not Caines fault, he is not the antagonist and he is only trying to do what his inital programming was to do. Caine is confused and unsure why they cannot leave and tries his best. The circus is not entirely Kingers fault, it went downhill and his intentions were not ill at all, I could see how blame could be pounced onto him but he never meant for anyone to get hurt.

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — remember to be patient!

prev: caving in | masterlist | next: until we’re old and wrinkly

𝜗𝜚 this is really a filler chapter in my head

𝜗𝜚 hoping and praying on my knees that someone notices the omori references i've littered throughout this smau

𝜗𝜚 i love omori sm. genuinely my favorite game of all time, alongside the entire loz franchise (i love loz sm)

𝜗𝜚 also about a month has passed since the last chapter if u couldnt tell (yn's exhibit went on for all of may) and since kageyama's confession they've been very stagnant (for the reasons yn and kags explained). for the past month yn has been attending her exhibit every monday, catching up with her late work (which resulted from the exhibit), and studying for her finals (which is going horribly. never double major in two completely unrelated things)

𝜗𝜚 speaking of yn's double major the reason why she's majoring in both art and environmental engineering is because she knew she needed a career to fall back on in case her art career didn't go very well. so she picked stem (she's an academic weapon)

𝜗𝜚 anyways kags did tell her he'd wait but he's slowly and surely losing patience he wants her so bad </3 hence the title (which is an omori ost reference)

𝜗𝜚 sorry guys i just love omori sm yn is so omori coded to me

𝜗𝜚 all of their friends genuinely did think they were already a couple and were just keeping it on the dl but in truth they're in a "talking stage" sort of thing

𝜗𝜚 a while back (between the events of last chap and this chap) yn realized she didn't know kag's full name. she liked the way tobio sounded more than kageyama so she changed it and gave him a cat pfp (in reference to one of the earlier chapters). he may or may not have short-circuited in response

𝜗𝜚 yachi does use yn's achievements as a means to get everyone to hang out but she really does just want to congratulate her friend LOL

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive

[slutisnotabadword]

Maybe an unpopular opinion…

But Steroline was better than Stelena.

And Bamon was better than Delena.

SORRY. SORRY. But it just was.

Stefan and Damon just had better chemistry and storyline with Caroline and Bonnie than they did with Elena. Don’t get me wrong, Delena had undeniable chemistry but that lasted only for the first three seasons. Once they got together, that chemistry kind of died down. And it makes me realize that the majority of their chemistry stemmed from the trope: “will they, won’t they”, or “forbidden lovers”. They knew they shouldn’t be together or even attracted together because of Stefan and it’s complicated, and because of that fact, it made their scenes every more angsty and hotter. But when they did get together, it’s like…. eh.

Where as Bonnie and Damon, they had chemistry from the jump, I argue. And even when they got “together” aka being best friends, they STILL had that intense chemistry and angst that was needed. And don’t get me started on how Damon’s original promise of protecting the Bennet bloodline?? And how Bonnie hated his guts and Damon was terribly annoyed by her?? Is that not a set up for a enemies to lover orrrr???

And Steroline just felt sweeter. Like eating dutch apple pie. It was a classic friends to lovers. And it has one of my favorite pairings, “the erratic girlfriend x calm, collected boyfriend”. And I just love how Caroline was Stefan’s vampire “sponsor”, and then how Stefan was technically Caroline’s first vampire friend, and how he helped her with her transition. It’s just fucking sweet. And I firmly believe that Caroline was in love with Stefan from the jump. Maybe not in love, but she definitely loved him, and that’s why she was always so judgemental and adament towards Elena about picking Stefan, because it’s what she would’ve—and wanted to—done.

[sykilik101]

@sykilik101 @lightningenergy @zdbztumble @magedragonfire @hollylu-ships-it @virtualnight @dbzebra @wishuponroses @goldengala @echidnapower @neica-chan-92 @miyatoriaka @fairrytype @illustrious-rocket @ultraericthered @gouthepro @cosmicheartz @timprime1 @johnnyd2 @shitirishaterssay @azelmaandeponine @seecarrun @rantyarts @maruku21 @rockyroadsmith @pokeshipping @wiseabsol @n-i-n-t @danwhobrowses

Why I M O, Pokeshipping is dead. ( kinda hot take, sorry pokeshippers. )

So, pokeshipping. The very 1st ship in the Pokemon anime’s history. I personally am not a fan of it, I did watch the original anime, and I personally don’t like misty’s character. It was off putting to me.

Now as to what your here for, what killed pokeshipping. There are 3 main contributors to the death of pokeshipping.

1.) The length of time from when misty was replaced to now,

2.) Serena and Amourshipping

3.) The Pokémon sun and moon anime

The length of time from when misty was replaced to now.

Now while this might not have been much of an issue if the other 2 bullet points didn’t exist, it has been over a decade at this point, since we last saw misty, meaning that we have a severe lack in character development, and that gives time for other potentially better ships to be created, which leads me to my next point

Serena and Amourshipping.

Possibly one of the biggest ships right now, (which at this point isn’t going to fizzle out anytime soon. ) With Amourshipping going so far, as to introduce a major plot point in ash’s story by having Serena be his childhood acquaintance, many other points that multiple poketubers like Catch ‘Em All Saul, bring up in their videos from years past, to the kiss, and even the writers basically confirming the darn thing

Amourshipping Confirmed?

So at this point, ( unless they throw all that away, which please. Don’t. ) there is next to no hope of pokeshipping to ever become cannon, which is only further proven by my last point,

The Pokémon sun and moon anime.

Now, this is honestly the iceberg that sank the ship, because Brock and Misty returned twice in the Sun and Moon anime, which I’m pretty sure was for let’s go promotion. Now this is where all hope is lost for pokeshipping because even though they returned twice, Misty had literally zero emotional moments with ash whatsoever. No pokeshipping pandering, no flashbacks, nothing. Here’s another video explaining that further

They did Misty DIRTY!

Now while the only good thing to come out of the re-return episodes was Brock possibly finally finding a girlfriend,

Brock x Olivia

This was the point of no return for Misty and pokeshipping in general. Misty, even though she returned twice, in the most recent anime, had literally no development, and nothing to show how she grew as a character since her absence, her return seems pointless and devoid of substance, and with another ship still gaining popularity at an exponential rate, I’m sorry Serge and all you genwunners, but it's time to pay your respects and move on.

RIP pokeshipping

1997-2023

https://x.com/GearUniverse/status/1732682994148688105

https://x.com/dbzebra2/status/1882231337417114071

Also to rub some salt on your wounds, all your stupid genwunner stories are 🤮🤮💩💩

"Ash, why is the flower bent?"

The words had meant to be more questioning than accusatory, but the combination of a 45-degree angle stem and petals that resembled blasted firecrackers that had been filled with too much gunpowder was cause for...concern for Misty.

"What's wrong, you said you wanted a flower."

"Not if it's practically ruined!"

Ash thrust a dirt-covered finger towards the cliff he'd obtained the flower from. "I couldn't help it! Trying to climb down that cliff wasn't easy, you know!"

"Then why didn't you just send one of your Pokémon to do it?"

At this a small flush bloomed underneath the patches of dust on his cheeks. "Well, I wanted to be the one to pick it for you."

Softened eyes and a skipped heartbeat came together and Misty felt something lodge in her throat. She glanced back over to the cliff, barely able to make out the small bunch of flowers that Ash had nabbed his from. It swayed softly in the breeze, decidedly devoid of any weird angles on their stems.

She smiled before turning back to Ash. She reached forward to take the flower in her hand, stopping to savor the way her fingertips grazed his.

"Well, I guess it doesn't have to be perfect. Thanks, Ash."

His lips contorted into a wobbled grin, softly scratching his cheek. "I'll get you a perfect one soon. You might have to wait a while, though."

Misty practically etched his promise into her brain, the joy enough to compel her to lean forward and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes went wide, an undecipherable noise eking out from his throat. Misty grinned, turning back towards the campsite where the others were surely waiting. "When I get that perfect flower, maybe I'll kiss you for real. You might have to wait a while, though."

In all honesty, she shouldn't have been surprised when her words sent Ash sprinting back towards the cliff, loudly proclaiming that the next one would be "even prettier than her." She hadn't bothered to try stopping him; Ash "Headstrong" Ketchum would hardly be deterred. She watched him once again scale the cliffside, holding the bent flower in her hands.

Truth be told, it was already perfect.

[from-izzy]

yesterday's petal | nct na jaemin

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​non-idol au!, established relationship au!

genre » angst! just full angst!, grief and longing, reader remembering all the good times spent with jaemin, hurt and hope to move on, boyfriend na jaemin who took care of you so well, and you who loved him as much as he loves you

word count, estimated reading time » 1628, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » major character death, grief and loss, sorry not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

didn't think that my first nct story on this app would be this but...i needed this badly...

i am also getting back into nct! i might be able to go to dream's concert this year and i'm so excited! feel free to send me some nct content and help me catch up hehe

but other than that...

in a world where everyone seems to fit in so well and so easily...i hope that someday things will be better for me 🫂

With the amount of times you hit the door frame against the overhanging bell of the shop, it’s no surprise that the older woman recognises you.

Usually, she greets her customers brightly, especially those who look nervous and overwhelmed by her overflowing love and care towards the flowers that she prides herself on. At first, it was like that for you too, but the brightness of it all only lasted a few milliseconds at most.

She’s not new to her job; no, she’s not. She’s been doing this for years, having been brought up to it by her mother who has heavily influenced her to decorate all kinds of events with the delicate being, bringing in colours from one corner of the room to the other. But she knew the second you walked in her door without having to take your hat, scarf or sunglasses off, that you’re different from any of the other customers.

She can sense it from far away: a heart that has stopped beating. Amidst the chaotic, busy world, where most of the time a pin cannot be heard even in the library, she can feel the dejected feeling that your heart clenches painfully and that it never begs to differ. She wonders if you’ve always been like this or if you change under a different circumstance. Did her shop remind you of something unpleasant? Was it making you remember a painful memory that you never want to revisit ever again? 

But you always kept coming back. If not every day, every second day. And this, without fail.

She wishes she had the courage to ask why the corners of your lips have never raised, why your hands are always limped by your side, swaying tirelessly beside your even tired heart. She wishes she could ask why your eyes are always so puffy and sometimes bloodshot when you bow to her as a greeting whenever you exit. And, she would always wonder the reason behind why you would pick up the same flowers every time. Again, with the number of times you visit, she wonders if you’re giving them away or if you just like to fill your room, and perhaps at this point house, just like her.

She never asks because of the way you held the stem of her flowers between your hands. It’s an interesting way to handle her art: you rest the bottom of the stem on your palm with your fingers curving up to make a little bowl while the fingers of your other hand are curled towards the centre of your palm, the little circle however always big enough that when you step over to the counter, the green stalk bounces around the circumference of the circle as you take your step towards her.

Just like every other day, you tapped your card on the machine and left after mouthing a ‘thank you’ when the affirmatory tick was displayed on the screen, a pair of curious eyes behind your slumped shoulders.

Your feet take you to the place that you go to every day, the navigation of getting there already deeply ingrained in you to even try and suppress. With each step, comes the setting of the city that you used to walk with your beloved boyfriend. So many memories are spent in every turn of the city, with every store being visited once whether it be a cafe or a baby clothing store. There was usually no purpose to your visits but the hand that held yours tightly made you remember that sometimes roaming around with no purpose brings the best moments in life. 

The scent of the ramen shop across the street makes you hold your breath for a second, not wanting to trigger the accompanying cilantro scent that your nose remembers. The whirring of the coffee machine that you just passed only makes the inside of your mouth dry, remembering the unhealthy shots of caffeine that your boyfriend would drink without a thought in mind. The uneven paths of the ground play with your balance but this time, Na Jaemin isn’t here to hold on to you or even playfully joke around with you to say that he will ‘never let you fall the same way you already fell for him now’.

God, you just want to experience them again.

The way your friends found their significant others while you mull over the fact that Jaemin has left and will never come back. Not in this life, at least. So many times you would pray that you’ll find someone else but even when another person has shown interest in you and you accepted their offer to take you out on a date, you find yourself only thinking of Jaemin endlessly. 

At first, you thought he cursed you. Just like how he would say he would if you ever woke him up from his after-school nap even though it was supposed to be a movie date at the cinemas. 

But now you know that you’re just not ready for the change that took away the only person who loves you and that you love back an infinite times more. You’re not ready to have another person holding you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings to you no matter your mood. 

You just want Na Jaemin back.

“Hey…” You arrive at your destination, the glossy stone reflecting the sullen look on your face, hair messy both from the win and simply not caring about readjusting it back; that was supposed to be Jaemin’s thing after all. “How are you doing today?”

Your choice of clothing today is questionable: white shorts when you know that you will be sitting down on the ungrassed Earth. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you because all you wanted after a tiring day of high school and trailing behind your friends who had their arms joined with the love of their life, is to just talk to Jaemin in a more eye-levelled state. 

The conversations are endless and you make sure not to leave the slightest bit of detail from the day. You try your hardest to be positive, knowing well that Jaemin will always like you that way but one of the reasons why you love him is because if you did cry, he would still love and care for you without judgement or doubt. And the realisation that you’ll never see those eyes that you have fallen in love and would get lost in sinks in again.

You sob. Cry. Weep. Bawl. 

You could scream. Yell. Shout.

And it’s killing you inside all the same.

“I’m so tired of being so lonely when there’s so many people around me, Nana.” Your chin rests on your folded knees to your chest, arms around your legs but hands still holding the flower the same as before. “I’m so tired of being jealous of my friends that they’re still making happy memories with their other person.” The tears stream down your face even more, gulping down your sorrows and pain.

You relish how the coldness of the wind numbed your cheek; at least you’re feeling something.

“I do believe that the time when everything will be better will come and I do believe that the more I understand my feelings, it will get better eventually,” you sniff and gasp out of air, “but I still wish that I didn’t have to rely on time. I wish that I didn’t have to delve in deep and go through all of this.”

His name engraved on the stone only made it harder for you to see anything, your tears blurring your surroundings and the wind only making you cry harder. You take in a shaky breath and though it was not satisfactory, you’re still thankful that it gave you a little more energy to get lost in the feeling of grief.

“I love you.” You repeat a few more times. “And I hope that someday, whenever I hear your name, only the good memories and things you taught me will replay in my head.”

Your fingers reach over to the curves and lines of his name and you smile remembering how his mother included you in the font and general typography, knowing how much the relationship that you both shared has always been a healthy one for both ends. You continue to run over the engraving more, moving your hand back and forth. You continue to blurt out your last few moments of the day along with your plans for the next twenty-four hours before you would rant to him again.

But like you said, time will eventually come and make it all better and currently, the heaviness in your chest is more bearable now. You jump up to your more stable feet, eyes on the flowers that cover the front side of the base. Slowly, you laid the new one between the ones from before. You stare at how it finds its place so easily despite being only introduced a few seconds ago, and you nod at how it may not be you anytime soon.

As you spare a final glance at the fresh flower on top of the one that you just gifted him yesterday, you note the peace that it’s finally been given, still and no longer twirling and swirling in the circle that you have made for it.

When you walk away, the flower looks at how you drag your feet across the soil, and the yesterday flower whispers, “They're still the same as yesterday.” A message that has continued and passed on from the very first one that you laid in hopes of Jaemin knowing that he’s never forgotten.

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[elrielffs]

I dont feel bad for the ones who would be disappointed when the next acotar book comes out. Not my fault that yall literally gaslighted yourselves so bad.

This series is not unpredictable. As you read throughout the books, you see feyre with tamlin and then rhysand was introduced. It was obvious that she'd probably get with rhysand (and she did!!')

Nesta and Cas meet. It's obvious by the tension and banter they had that they would obviously get together!! and guess what?? THEY DID.

Same with Elain! Elain meets Az, its all simple and then as the books go on, it becomes something more. they are basically slow burn.

Like as you read this SIMPLE romantasy series, you can tell who's next. I dont know why people are being so dramatic and bringing out english majors 💀

Yah, I don’t feel bad either, especially knowing that the book is going to receive backlash and so will SJM no matter how good it is. It could be the next ACOMAF and people would still hate it cause it’s not their ship, which is a shame. People don’t have to read it if they don’t want to but the hate the Elriel book will bring will be crazy.

And look, I get it. Not everyone is going to like Elain, not everyone is going to like Elriel, there’s SJM couples I personally don’t vibe with and would have preferred with others but I could always tell who was endgame and who was being built up (key word here—built up) and just accepted it. I wasn’t out here trying to gaslight the fandom in no you’re wrong actually, Aelin should be with Dorian cause of example ABC (and Dorian and Aelin at least had interest and flirty scenes together)

And I get that people will naturally look for another option besides Elain and Elriel if they don’t like it. But that’s what Gwynriel is. People like Gwyn, she’s single, and she’s in the same vicinity as Azriel. That’s enough for some people because it’s not Elain, it’s not a ship they are excited for. So they create one they ARE excited for—which is fine, I’m not against people shipping anything. Could people have come naturally to a Gwynriel ship? Sure, you don't want Elriel together so you latch onto Gwyn because she's single, you like her, and she's...there and then you can go back thru the book to highlight things you think support what you want. I believe the majority of it stems from Elain hate on the Gwynriel side and poor bby Lulu on Elucien side who don’t like Elain mostly but want Lucien to get whatever he wants (which we could argue outside of instinct he doesn’t want Elain but alas) and being shippers of one naturally suits the other so they try to bolster the other in their forced interpretations.

The problem is the cherry picking, the twisting canon and narrative, being purposefully obtuse—at times even degrading the characters in the ship they want so bad (Azriel)— the insistence that Elriel is not happening and people just didn’t read closely enough or need fancy Lit Degrees to understand the nuance of Gwynriel when SJM has just never written her couples like that—-they have always been blatant in their interest either from their POV or other characters talking about observing them. And I mean blatant—Azriel looking at Gwyn cause she laughed and being slightly amused is not blatant, that is an interaction any two characters can have—-Elain and Azriel are observed to have a charged look between them, that’s blatant. Azriel had blushed for Elain, Elain has gone to fix her hair for Azriel—like it can’t be more in your face.

I could go on how in a post GoT media world people are too obsessed with theories and “figuring things out” and showing how smart they are by guessing plot twists and the like—-which yeah, can be fun but it’s gone beyond that to over examining every little thing to death and assuming every single sentence, word, action is up for interpretation when that is just not the case. Some writing can be like that—SJM is not.

As someone who has read books all my life—-I’ve never been wrong about intended love interests. (And guess what, I took higher level literature courses in college—am I legit now to comment on romantasy books???) There’s specific patterns and scenes for endgame couples that just wouldn’t happen if they were not IT and especially with SJM. Her couples have never shocked me. The twists in her stories have never shocked me. She is a very obvious writer—-for all the talk about crumbs and foreshadowing, I find that SJM is pretty straightforward. Sure, there’s things there to support the narrative, little hints, but it’s mostly obvious in your face.

So no, I don’t feel bad for the rude awakening antis are in for. I hope they still enjoy their ship but I can’t wait til we can finally put this shit to rest. I don’t think the fandom can ever go back to a pre-ACOSF state and I honestly think the ship war has done major damage to the fandom and SJM herself which is really sad to think about.

[cringecompanionapologist]

I Found a Doctor Who RPG Sourcebook and I'm Making It Your Problem

Actually, I found several. It seems that there is a sort of Doctor Who tabletop RPG with sourcebooks for each Doctor that include ready-made character sheets for the Doctors, companions, and major players in each televised story.

I could look into all of them, if I really wanted to, but the thing is, my computer is nearly a decade old, slowly dying on me, and hates screenshots, so taking and storing a fuckton of screenshots of absolutely everything isn't something I can do. So, I'm just pulling a few interesting bits from the Second and Fifth Doctor Sourcebooks. There's no structure to this beyond me thinking "I wonder what their character sheet looks like".

So, the Second Doctor stuff is not much at all. I got the Doctor himself.

I should probably note that I don't have much experience with tabletop RPGs, and none with this one in particular, so I only half know how to read these. This screenshot isn't even very good. I'm working off a free site with a terrible zoom function and I couldn't get the whole thing. The basics are that characters have a set of six Stats, a bunch of Skills, some traits that give them special strengths and weaknesses, and some basic character information. The Second Doctor's got a lot of stuff, some of which even gets explained.

I've deduced that there's probably a separate manual for the basics of how the game works, what the Stats mean, what the Skills do, etc. So a lot of Why These Numbers Are What They Are questions go unanswered.

Any way, this screenshot sucks so much that I can't bare the sight of it any longer, so we're moving on to the next one. Here's Jamie:

Wow! You can actually see things this time.

Most of the stat numbers don't go above 5, from what I can tell. So we can assume that Jamie's strongest stats are Coordination, Presence, and Strength, without any stat being too weak.

The skills are more mixed.

Athletics most likely refers to physical skills, Convince is persuasion, Craft is making stuff, I think, Fighting needs no explanation, Knowledge is...well...knowing stuff, Marksman is shooting/throwing accuracy, Medicine is obviously medical knowledge, Science is...look a lot of these seem like special subcategories of knowledge that are self-explainatory, Subterfuge I think covers "rogue skills" like spying and lock-picking, Survival is the sort of things Boy Scouts learn probably, Technology is computers and technobabble, Transport is driving and the like.

So, when it comes to strengths, Jamie is physically fit, but can't swim. He is very good at fighting because he's a male companion in the 60s that that was like at least 75% of their job. Marksman is apparently based in knife-throwing ability. Subterfuge...well, if you've seen The Enemy of the World, Jamie is actually a pretty good spy.

As for weaknesses, Jamie knows nothing about any STEM field.

There's also a little number for Technology Level. I've seen this number go as high as 7, but the 18th and 19th century characters seem to be placed at a 4. I didn't get a screenshot but Victoria is the same, despite the whole Industrial Revolution thing.

Then we've got some personality traits and such that effect things. Jamie apparently gets points for being attractive and brave, as well as for being accepted anywhere in time and space no matter what he's wearing. There's really not a whole lot to analyze here.

Now, the entire reason I did Second Doctor stuff was because the villains get character sheets and I wanted to see Salamander's. I added the Doctor and Jamie to pretend I had any other reason to be there.

I took this screenshot without using the zoom and it looks pretty good actually.

It turns out that those skill numbers can go above 5 as Salamander scores a 6 in Ingenuity and Presence, as well as a 5 in Resolve. Almost all of his stats are pretty high. As an RPG villain, he's a boss fight.

Instead of a full chart of skills, which only Doctors and Companions get, Salamander just gets a list. His higher points here are Convince at 5, Knowledge at 4, Subterfuge at 5, and Technology at 5. Convince and Subterfuge are his more manipulative skills as a politician, while Knowledge and Technology are because he did, in fact, invent the technology he got popular for inventing. His Tech Level, at a 5, is somewhere between Jamie and Victoria, and some of the more futuristic aliens. That does make sense for the early 21st century, even a slightly more high-tech 21st century than the one that actually happened.

As for Traits, a lot of them give him bonus skills that are actually explained, such as the ability to invent gadgets, resist mind control, menace people into doing what he wants and get even bigger bonuses in Technology and Convince situations, being a tech genius for his time period and a respected authority figure.

So, cool stuff.

The Fifth Doctor stuff I got is a bit more extensive. We'll start with the Doctor himself.

The good news is that it's a full screenshot. The bad news is that it's very hard to read. We can see a very high Ingenuity stat, because he's the Doctor. There's a Tech Level 10, because I'm guessing that's Level Time Lord.

I do have enough info to compare his Skill number to the Second Doctors.

Athletics has risen from 1 to 4 because of all the cricket. Convince drops from a 5 to a 3, because nobody listens to Five while Two was fairly good at getting people to listen to him. Fighting has risen from absolute 0 to 2, which isn't much but it's literally something. You can see a lot of numbers improve slightly as the Doctor has learned more things over time, like Medicine going from 1 to 3.

I actually looked over four different companions this time. We'll go in order of introduction. Here's Adric.

His Tech Level is confusing in the blurry screenshot. But, as for other stuff, his fast healing and ability to control the TARDIS a little are noted, though the reality warping of Block Transfer Computation isn't because it's too damn complicated and has it's own system.

Adric's skills in general are pretty low, but they don't seem to be too unfair. These sourcebooks started coming out around 2013, when the fandom's aggressive Adric hatred had started to wind down, possibly as people realized that all the season 19 companions had writing problems and the confused performances you often get with confused writing, but Tegan and Nyssa stuck around longer so improvements could be made, and Big Finish started doing damage control with them earlier on, especially in Nyssa's case.

I'm actually surprised Adric's Athletics score is as high as it is. His Science score being only a 3 and Knowledge 2 confused me at first, but when I thought about it, it a makes sense. Adric knew a lot about mathematics but basically nothing anything else, even other STEM fields. Nyssa had to tell him what photosynthesis is, which I learned in elementary school science classes. Between this extreme focus on a single subject, lack of socials skills, and somewhat stilted speech and movement, I think I like Adric as much as I do because all this stuff feels like autism and I was an autistic teenager when I first saw him.

He also gets good Subterfuge skills because he can pick locks, do sleight of hand tricks, and overall has a good skill set that was rarely put to use.

And now, Nyssa:

Tech Level 7 explains where Traken is. We'll get to compare several different planets I guess.

Nyssa gets a higher science stat, with an emphasis on biochemistry. She has a more diverse STEM skill set than Adric. Other than that, I don't have much to report here. The fact that she's upper class seems to affect her ability to interact with people who aren't. As you will see, Turlough somehow isn't given this problem despite it being more obvious with him than with Nyssa.

But before that, there's Tegan.

Technology level 5 for the 1980s. These tech levels seem to cover a lot of historical ground. 1746 and 1866 are both in 4 and 1980 and 2018(futuristic version) are both in 5. I wonder what separates these levels from one another.

Tegan is considered fairly ordinary, not a fighter like Jamie nor a scientist like Nyssa, so her stats are kinda bad. Looking at her traits, her skills seem to include running and screaming, with points off for being impulsive, argumentative, and loud. I don't think the people who wrote this liked Tegan very much.

Anyway, of course there's Turlough.

Trion is apparently Tech Level 7, the same as Traken. So that turned out to not be very interesting.

His main strengths are in Convince and Technology. He can half-understand the TARDIS at times and appears to be good at lying to people. The fact that he doesn't get running and screaming in his traits and Tegan does is sexism. He also gets to be charming, though not attractive like Nyssa or Tegan. Men can get this trait, since Jamie did. I think he's commonly seen as average-looking.

Also the fact that he's seen as lucky with all the shit he went through is hilarious.

Finally, as a bit of a bonus, Captain Wrack from Enlightenment has a character sheet. How do you even make stats for an Eternal?

Many of her stats are surprisingly low for basically a low-level god. Though she's got a high Knowledge score and a Tech Level of 12, since Eternals go beyond Time Lords, though it's more power than technology with them, isn't it? Do we just not know how to factor this in?

So when it comes to these tech levels:

18th-19th century Earth = 4

20th-21st century Earth = 5

Traken and Trion = 7

Time Lords = 10

Eternals = 12

That's all I got for now. I hope you enjoyed this bit of fussing over meaningless numbers.