#EVERY TIME I TRY IT STARTS EDITING THE ACTUAL ASK ITSELF

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

[mutable-manifestation]

Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3

Part 1 & 2

***

The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.

The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.

Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).

Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.

It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.

The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.

He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.

But it would be really funny.

Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.

Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.

"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"

"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."

Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.

"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.

"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."

"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"

"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"

He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.

"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.

"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."

***

It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.

Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.

"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"

"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.

"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."

"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.

"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?

"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.

"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."

"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."

"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.

"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."

"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"

He pauses, searching for words that would not come.

"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."

"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.

"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."

"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.

"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.

"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.

Frostbite chuckles.

"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?

You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”

Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.

“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires. 

He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.

Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.

The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."

Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.

The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.

Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.

"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.

"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."

Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.

"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."

He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.

"The Observants should have informed you long before now."

"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.

"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage. 

The trio fidget.

Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.

“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”

“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.” 

Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink. 

“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”

“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.

“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.

“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.

Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.

“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”

“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings. 

Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”

“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch. 

Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.

“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.

“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.

“OW!”

“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.

“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.

Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading. 

“Can’t you be king?” he asks. 

Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.

“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”

Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.

“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”

“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”

Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.

“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”

“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.

“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.

“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”

“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”

#dpxdc #Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU #starring: Not Jack and Maddie lmao #Frostbite #the Trio #lots of dialogue #guess how many ghosts knew about the AEA before today #surprise it was just Danny and Vlad #the GIW were too incompetent to bother anyone except Amity Parkers #guess how many know after Danny fills Frostbite in? #surprise its a lot more #Danny: *harmless no longer useful information I can tell my buddy Frostbite bc it's no big since everything is being handled now* #Frostbite: ... #yeah Danny does the casual horrifying trauma dumps to ghosts too

[niningtori]

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter three: i'm not all bad, right?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! i don't have much to say this time around besides the fact that i just want to thank user zzhyuu for helping me edit this (´∀｀)♡

if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. he liked the idea of breaking somebody and being broken in return. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't — he can't — play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him any longer, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late. 

there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear that it was not. 

even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him anymore. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness. "i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general. 

he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic: "i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either. 

contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore? 

as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time? 

not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he drinks himself dry.

he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.

-

you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it. truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all. 

that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well. and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but you had known him for years. it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your brain hurt.

so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans. 

when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around. if there's some creep trying to get with you, there will be hell to pay. 

"who the f—" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much. 

"hey," he says weakly.

"what do you want?" you ask venomously while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk. 

"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly. 

"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.

"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?"  you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine, even when they're impatient to look away from him.

"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving —" you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.

"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."

"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance. seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles to pull out his phone. you're confused for a few seconds before he pulls up his notes app and you see an alarmingly huge chunk of text. what the fuck?

"i-i wrote this for you," he says tremblingly — so anxious that the hand that holds his phone is visibly shaking. you cock your eyebrow when he clears his throat and begins.

"i was so, so inconsiderate of how you felt, and didn’t treat you with a lot of respect as a person, let alone as a partner. i didn't understand how hurt you would be by the things i did or didn't do. in a way, i still don't think i understand just how fully how i treated you affected you. especially when you were so hurt by me. especially when you’d hold onto those feelings for so long, whether you wanted to hold them or not. it's unbelievable to me that you stayed with me for as long as you did, a-and it’s a testament to your willpower, your resolve, and how much you really do — or did — love me. i don’t think i ever appreciated your love like i do now. i... i don’t know if i appreciate it fully even as i write this. 

when i last saw you, i thought you were being cruel, but looking back, i can’t blame you. i can only admire you for not being worse, actually. roles reversed, i definitely would have been. i-i'm starting to understand how you must have felt, and why you probably want me to feel how you felt in the past. i know you think i am the one who owes you, and i do. i really owe you a lot. i owe you more than you ever asked me for.

so i want to make it up to you. i really do. and i'm hoping that i can really change. i'm – i just miss you so much i can't stand it anymore. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand. but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so incredibly sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face. 

"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what can you say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.

"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.

"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.

"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words from your notes app, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.

"w-what? b-but you said —" 

"i know you're sorry and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now. and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces. the former him would probably be throwing a tantrum right now, but he said he'd change for you, so he says what you'd never expect him to.

"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."

"but..."

"go back in," he sniffs. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn you wish he'd just keep frowning.

"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.

"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door. 

his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will. 

"yes?" 

"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" how are you so cruel but so merciful at the same time? he should say okay, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.

notes pt. 2: the next chapter will be the final chapter. it will probably be relatively short, so keep that in mind. anyway, feedback is always appreciated :)

masterlist

#niningtori #to know him is to love him and i do #txt angst #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu fic #txt #txt fic #tomorrow x together #toxic!beomgyu #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios

[nsfwflint]

A Black Tie Affair And A Long Goodbye (Partial Draft)

A/N: So this is the partial draft of what was going to be my farewell piece before I retired. It initially started out as an idea for a Kang Mina x Sejeong piece after they both had amazing appearances in black dresses for award shows last year. Then I added Jihyo, and then Yoojeong, and as I kept finding more pictures of hot idols in black dresses, the list just kept growing and growing. It eventually evolved into an idea for a piece where instead of a massive orgy, it would be a ton of quickie scenes varying in length but typically not exceeding 3k words per scene. However, clearly, that never happened. I ended up putting a lot of pressure on myself and eventually retired without putting anything out. I'm posting it now but be warned; this is a very rough draft that has gone through zero editing. I'm not gonna lie, it's not that great and the smut itself is eerily similar to Reconnecting despite me trying not to copy my own piece. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy. Treat this as a winter holiday present I guess.

As you stare at the thin black fabric hugging the voluptuous body before you, a single thought crosses your mind. You love your girlfriend. Not just because her curvaceous figure in that black dress tantalizes you as she stands a few feet away, but for what the dress itself means. 

Award show season. The few nights of the year your girlfriend finally gets awarded for all her amazing work through the year. 

However it’s also the few nights of the year that she and all her friends get so unbelievably stressed, that she loans you out to all her gorgeous friends for “relief.” The first time she asked about you to help her friend, you thought it was a trap. But somehow it wasn’t and you discovered that your amazing girlfriend is completely okay with essentially whoring you out to her equally beautiful friends, the cherry on top to your already incredible relationship. 

While initially it was only your girlfriend and a few of her close friends, word about your “services" quickly and quietly spread throughout the industry, with more and more celebrities using you for relief every year. At first you were worried about the increasing number of requests, but your girlfriend convinced you to take care of anyone who asked. As it turns out, she actually gets turned on by the thought of so many women wanting you.

Wondering how many gorgeous women you’ll have to satisfy this year, a loving voice finally pulls you from your thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Of course, baby. Let’s get going.” You smile as you gently take her hand and start making your way towards the door.

It hasn’t even been ten minutes since you arrived at the venue before the first taker pulls you into a bathroom. You quickly get pushed into a stall onto a thankfully closed toilet and find yourself with the first voluptuous beauty of the night grinding on your lap as she peppers your neck with kisses.

“Jesus, Mina. I haven’t even been in the building for fifteen minutes and you’re already jumping me like this?” You groan as her soft lips kiss up and down your neck.

“I can’t help it. I saw you looking amazing in that tux and all the stress I’ve had lately just exploded. I just fucking needed you so much.” Mina whines, her hungry kisses tracing your jawline.

“Sounds like you’ve been under a lot of pressure then. With that kind of stress, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d been a bad girl lately.” You tease.

Your hands instinctively make themselves at home on Mina’s hips with a rough squeeze as her barrage of kisses comes to a screeching halt. Pulling away from your neck, she stares into your eyes with an intense erotic gaze.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl. I need you to punish me with your fat cock, daddy.” Mina replies, slowly emphasizing every word as her voice drips with lustful seduction.

The first time she called you daddy during sex it caught both of you off guard. After the initial shock however, you discovered just how much it turned you on; something she’s used to her advantage ever since.

She gently pushes her hand against your chest as she stands up off of your lap. You waste no time getting ready, quickly unbuckling your belt and dropping your pants down to your ankles. Mina pulls her dress up to her midriff, revealing her delightfully fit tummy and a thin pair of black panties.

Sliding her panties to the side to reveal her moist entrance, Mina eagerly sinks herself on your throbbing cock. Both of you release a pleasured moan as her tight cunt hungrily grips your shaft. Lifting herself up briefly, she quickly slams herself back down as her shapely ass ripples against your thighs. It doesn’t take long for her to establish her usual cock hungry rapid pace as she furiously rides you.

“Oh fuck, you fill me so much, daddy.” Mina cries, slamming herself on your cock.

“You like riding daddy’s dick like this don’t you?” You grunt as your tip pounds away at her depths.

“Yes daddy I do. You hit me so deep, daddy.”

Her curvaceous body ripples and bounces with every frantic slam. Contented moans pour endlessly from her lips as she places her hands on your shoulders. The velvety heat of her moist chasm radiates along your shaft as her walls clamp around your cock. Each thrust pierces into the deepest part of her cunt, driving both of you to the brink of ecstasy.

As Mina becomes a mewling mess on your cock, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous she is in her midnight black dress. It tightly hugs her large chest as her auburn hair tumbles down its erotic curve. Watching her big tits heave wildly in the black fabric, you quickly find yourself unable to hold back your own desires. You yank down the tight dress, freeing the large breasts with a satisfying bounce and immediately taking a stiff nipple into your mouth. Your hands sink into the pillowy flesh of her chest as you rapidly roll your tongue around the fleshy nub. 

“Fuck, I love when you suck my tits, daddy.” Mina shrieks as her fingernails dig into your shoulders through your tux.

While you should probably be worried about how loud she’s moaning, worshiping her chest erases all other thoughts from your mind. You quickly flick your tongue up and down the sweet nipple as her heavenly flesh ripples against your lips. Your fingers can’t get enough of her silky skin, squeezing and kneading both of the fleshy mounds endlessly in your hands. The small beauty mark on her right breast dances in and out of your vision as her tits bounce with every frantic slam on your cock.

As you messily devour Mina’s pillowy breasts, her hands move to the nape of your neck. She grabs as much of your hair as she can and pushes your face even farther into the satiny skin of her chest.  Endless moans and gasps flow from her lips as she fervently rides your cock, humping and bouncing on you with a vigorous sexual hunger that you’ve rarely experienced. No longer content with Mina just fucking herself on your dick, you give her tits another rough squeeze as you begin to buck your hips upwards.

“Oh fuck yes, daddy!” Mina cries out as your tip slams into her depths.

Her moist cunt tightly grips your shaft, tugging and pulling with every eager thrust. The soft skin of her endless curves ripples beautifully as your bodies hungrily crash against each other. Your hands move down to her slender hips, squeezing them tightly as you drive your cock deeper and deeper into her hot chasm with every forceful slam. You continue to slurp, suck, and nibble on her stiff nipple; feasting on the sweet flesh as the heavy weight of her large tits slap against your face from Mina bouncing wildly on your dick.

You lose track of how long the two of you have been carnally devouring each other’s bodies when every fiber of your body feels like it’s on fire. You regretfully removes your lips 

“I’m gonna fucking cum, Mina.” You groan as you feel yourself reaching your limit.

“I’m almost there too. Cum inside me, daddy. Fill this tight pussy with daddy’s thick cum.” Mina screams, her hips bucking non-stop as she furiously rides your cock.

Almost as soon as she finishes her sentence, Mina’s own orgasm is the first to arrive. A rush of her sticky nectar rushes down your shaft as her velvety walls clench around your dick. Not far behind her, you continue to pound your tip away at her depths. As her body trembles on your cock, you forcefully push your dick as deep as you can inside her. She pushes your face into her deep cleavage and it’s all it takes to bring you to your own climax. Your tip throbs against the entrance of her womb before violently erupting.

An endless torrent of thick cum floods into Mina’s womb, quickly filling her to the brim with an unending stream of ropey semen exploding from your tip. Mina slowly grinds against you as you continue filling her with an obscene amount of your childbearing seed, her hot walls tightly gripping your shaft as it tries to milk as much of your potent cum as it can. One final spurt of your cum drowns her womb and both of your orgasms slowly die down. 

The bathroom falls silent except for the heavy panting of the two of you trying to catch your breath. After a few minutes, you finally remove your face from Mina’s cleavage as she looks at you with an affectionate smile. She softly presses her lips against yours before standing up. Your shaft coated with the sticky remnants of both of your orgasms, it glistens in the fluorescent light as she lifts herself off your cock. No longer being dammed by your depleted member, a thick white waterfall slowly drips out of her entrance. 

The two of you chuckle as you take the nearby toilet paper and quickly clean yourselves up. After a few minutes of fixing your clothes, both of you look the same as before you entered the bathroom. Mina looking drop dead gorgeous in her black dress and you looking painfully average in your tux. She gives you another gentle kiss before pulling back and smiling.

“That was exactly what I needed. Thank you, daddy. I’ll see you later.”

Mina gives you a teasing wink before disappearing from the bathroom. Just to be safe, you wait a few more minutes before leaving the bathroom and returning to the venue halls, wondering who will be next.

A/N2: So the plan for the piece was with so many idols included, I wanted it to be like a choose your own adventure type thing where all the scenes would be included but the reader could pick which one was the true "girlfriend" for themselves. A potential/joke ending that I came up with involved a time skip with the protagonist sitting in front of a table with a mountain of positive pregnancy tests from all the idols. Not sure if I would have gone with that as the official ending, but I guess we'll never know. I had started the second scene in my draft, but since the smut scene for that idol wasn't finished, I didn't include it. Just felt like it would be a tease and I don't want to do that you guys since I don't know if I'll ever finish it. But if I do, I'll post it as a part two I guess. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

#kpop #kpop smut #reader insert #reader x idol #male reader x idol #kang mina #gugudan mina #reader x kang mina

[brainrotallthewaydown1312]

I have a personal l&co hc that I can't get out of my head, so now y'all get to enjoy the absolutely riveting content that is the Portland Row budgeting system. under the cut because this is a needlessly detailed post that like 5 people will be interested in

I think that when they are paid for a job, the first thing that happens to the money is that there is a big cut that goes to bills for the house and business. mortgage, utilities, groceries, ghost supplies, advertising, etc. I think it's probably 50-60% of most jobs pay. probably a smaller cut on big jobs that come with bigger checks.

I think Lockwood started out trying very hard to be a "proper business man" and split the remainder evenly and paid them every other Friday because that's what your supposed to do. but I think that would have devolved after only a few months living and working together. between covering each other for dinner or coffee and getting household stuff with their money and everyone feeling a little weird on payday because it was one of the only times there was a clear boss/employee dynamic because they all saw each other as genuine equals, it just didn't make sense to keep doing it that way.

and so I think George (after pestering Lockwood about fixing the budgeting) sat down and set it up so that it was basically automatic profit sharing. first the bills and expenses cut goes straight to an auto pay acct. and then the remaining cut goes to a general house acct, which pays out a small allowance to each of their personal accts each week. most of the stuff they get and do is covered from the joint acct because it makes sense that way. but they do each have their own money and savings.

after the new system is set up George checks on the balances and bank statements once a week but it mostly manages itself. he folds it into the other chores that he does and likes how simple it is to keep running.

Lockwood pretends to be grumpy about not being in charge but is not so secretly very happy to not have to worry about it. he is also very happy that this puts all of them on equal footing with the business because he he like being the leader and the face of things, but he doesn't like the power dynamic of being the boss.

Lucy is worried at first that they will argue about spending from the joint acct, but they very rarely ever run into issues with it, and when there is it is almost always resolved quickly because while they all bicker about smaller things and about everyone's bad habits, they actually get along and manage house very smoothly

---

edit: i have in fact added more domestic head canons in this thread and I have been seeing a lot of people tagging asking for more. they are in the notes if you're interested

#i have so many detailed and boring domestic headcannons for these guys #and they all work regardless of how you read their relationships #there is something that is just so homey and domestic about Portland Row and their little family #i can't help myself coming up with all the boring adulting things for them #but just know that there is more where this came from #lockwood and co #lockwood and co headcannons #anthony lockwood #george karim #george cubbins #lucy carlyle #cot3 #iron trio

[daisys-reality]

𝙿𝙰𝙲.𝟶𝟷𝟽 : 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎? 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚁?

Let’s say you decided on which DR you want to shift to. You already created some type of script, whether it’s physically, digitally or perhaps you just have a vague idea in mind on what you want to experience there. Now, you started getting unsure if this is really what you want… Or if you should focus on another DR instead. I will try to give you some guidance here on your situation! But don’t take this too much to heart, just use it as additional inspiration, okay? And if you like to read more pac readings from me, feel free to check out my  masterlist as well. Also, I don't own any of these beautiful pics.

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴  

Is this really what you want to experience? - What you have in mind or what you have on your script will be a challenge but yes, it seems to be something you really want to experience. Don’t be afraid, you're strong enough to handle it BUT it’s better to restrain your wild/aggressive side and your subconscious desire for (self) destruction a little bit and to avoid any open and (especially) unnecessary fights/scandals there…

Should you edit your script? Or focus on another DR? - Yes, you could perhaps edit your script (or plan) for this DR in a way that you will have more of a cool relaxing experience or more moments of relaxation in general (instead of constant stress and 24/07 new ‘plots’ lmao). Also, your script could perhaps mirror some of your fears (fear of abandonment/commitment). You might actually not really know what this DR will bring you. I feel like there are a few moments you want to experience but you probably left the rest open or rather up to the universe. There might be a possibility that you will at some point just aimlessly drift around the world until you truly find meaning in your existence there. I think you’re meant to keep this open, don’t try to force a direction/or a final end destination in your script. Define what exactly you want to experience, shift there and see what happens then. Go with the flow and give yourself time in your DR to make up your mind. You don’t just decide the meaning of one’s existence within one week, right? :) Regarding the DR itself, the one you have in mind might not be the best choice right now out of all your DRs, perhaps you should focus on another DR first before shifting to this one. The advice here is to think logically/rationally while choosing your DR. If your choice is influenced by greed or materialism, then you might have to rethink your choice. Obviously it’s up to you which DR you choose, just know that every decision is a commitment to some point… So, ask yourself: Are you ready for the commitment? 

 

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 

Is this really what you want to experience? - Undecided. That is something only your subconsciousness knows. Your dreams and intuition hold important information that will guide you. Follow your instincts and remember to focus on the now. It is not wise to constantly dwell on the past or on what ifs. There is also a sense of energetic protection here. So there is no need to worry too much about how the experience will be. 

Should you edit your script? Or even focus on another DR? - No, I feel like you worry too much about your script… Are you the type to make extremely detailed/long scripts? Constantly updating and adding more things to it? Sometimes you need to let things rest for some time for them to start blooming. You usually grow fond of an idea only after some time has passed. It seems like there is a feeling of being stressed to live up to something… too many responsibilities or influences here that turned into a burden for you. You might feel disconnected from your script/DR right now. Consider meditating on your situation for clarity. I don’t think you should focus on another DR. This DR you’re focusing on is ‘the right one’ for now, but to move forward you must overcome this inner blockage which I think is partly caused by a subconscious fear of commitment. Start being more grounded, face your ideas (from your script) - is it just nice to imagine or is it something (after really experiencing it)  that will bring you a sense of fulfillment or growth? Because I see that behind the veil there is a lot of joy, creative self expression and emotional fulfillment waiting for you, you just have to reach out for it…

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

Is this really what you want to experience? - To be honest it feels like a slight no. What you have scripted or what you have in mind for your DR might seem perfect or without flaws …on the outside. But the experience is not completely matching with who you are and what you need. It feels like it’s something that is out of touch with an aspect of yourself. Perhaps you’ve got wealth, finance and freedom going on but you're completely isolated and alone in your DR (materialistic needs met but emotionally unfulfilled). There is just a contradiction with what you truly need…

Should you edit your script? Or focus on another DR? - I don’t think you should focus on another DR right away. This DR you have in mind is fine but I feel like you didn’t know what you should go for, so you just decided to go for something even though it's not really completely fitting. Do you perhaps have a fear of the unknown? I also feel like a lack of planning or lack of mental preparation is causing an issue too here. You should definitely edit your script/your plans for your DR. In your DR there shouldn’t only be material comfort but also emotional comfort. I really feel like your emotional world has been completely neglected while drafting your script/your DR. It will be important to build a solid foundation of who you are, what you need and who you want to be (in your DR) first. Try to integrate something that fuels your ambition, helps you grow and gives you satisfying experiences. A certain structure would be nice too. You might like a little chaos here and there but please give yourself at least a little bit of structure…

#t.tarot #shiftblr #shifting #pac reading #tarot reading #desired reality #shifting community #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a picture

[glenthemes]

using javascript on tumblr pages – how to ask support for permission

✧ What is happening?

As of early May 2022, you might have gotten this message when trying to save edits on your custom pages or when trying to install new ones:

“Looks like you’re trying to add some Javascript or invalid html to your page. You’ll need to contact Support if you’d like to use Javascript.”

✧ Why is this happening?

Tumblr is preventing potential malicious uses of javascript and decided to ban any form of javascript on your pages, and for now the only way to re-enable it is to “contact Support”.

More info: https://help.tumblr.com/hc/en-us/articles/5869629271319

✧ How to contact support:

Just “contact Support” is vague enough in itself, so here’s a quick guide on what to write in your request to them so you can get approved asap. Please note that it may take some time for them to process your request. This exact method isn’t guaranteed, but here’s what I did that got me approved within a week.

🌟 To get started, make sure you have a FREE page ready. When asking staff for permission, you’ll need to send the code. If you plan on using a paid / premium page, just send in your request under a free page first. After that, you’re free to do whatever you want.

1. Go to https://www.tumblr.com/support

2. In the Category option, choose “Customizing your Tumblr”.

3. In the message box, include the following:

List out all the blogs you want to use custom pages on.

Give a brief description of what you use those blogs for.

The page name, and the maker’s username.

A link to the page code, aka where you got it from.

Most theme makers share them through Pastebin or Github.

Here’s a template:

(Remember the please & thankyous! Staff are flooded with requests right now so be mindful).

4. Skip the Attachment part, because you’re only allowed to upload images, and codes aren’t images.

5. For the Relevant Blog option, pick your main blog (the very first blog you created on your account)

6. For the Account Email, enter the email you use to sign in to Tumblr

7. Complete the Captcha and wait for the tick ✓ to show

8. Click Next.

9. You’ll reach the “Does any of this help?” screen. No, it does not. Scroll to the bottom and click “No, send my thing”.

And done! You’ll receive an automated confirmation email from staff that they’ve received your request. It may take them several weeks for an actual member of staff to get back to you, so be patient. However, there’s a chance that you may have been approved for javascript usage *before* they reply. So you can check your custom pages every now and then to see if you can save any edits, or if you can install any new pages.

🕒 Last updated: 2023-06-13

#tumblr #updates and fixes #tumblr bullshittery #long post #tumblr javascript

[theflyindutchwoman]

Well, I mean, we could come clean. Are you ready for that? Are you ready for Smitty's commentary on us dating or the "oohs" every time we walk into the roll call room together? Or we could lie. Okay, I have an idea. I heard from a C.I. that there were drugs coming out of the kitchen. And -- And you asked me to join as backup. Right. Like a soft undercover infiltration. Not bad. Thank you.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.10 - The List

This moment is actually the perfect introduction of the 'secret relationship' era… of what makes it so good, really : how bad they are at this secrecy thing. Embarrassingly (and hilariously) so. And the irony is that there's no reason for them to be this terrible. They usually thrive under pressure, undercover or not. They're naturally reserved when it comes to their personal life, shying away from PDAs and all… And they already spend so much time together, have a shorthand… And yet, they are downright awful at trying to conceal and pretend that nothing has changed between them.

Just the way they are standing in the bull pen gives them away… The whispering, the awkward smiles, checking every five seconds if anyone is watching them… Tim grinning when Officer Jan passes by… As if that's not suspicious in itself. Honestly, anyone who didn't know they were together before they went official should give their badges back on principle. And then, there's the content of their brainstorming… With Lucy trying to come up with a good reason as to why they were together at the 'most romantic restaurant in town' - other than the real reason. And let's talk about this for a second. It's never been confirmed but I'd like to think that it was Tim's idea to try this place for their first date. As much as he was uncomfortable at the pop-up restaurant at the beach, he doesn't mind going to fancy places either. Like the one he chose for his bet. So I could see him picking this restaurant, especially if Lucy had talked about it beforehand, wanting only the best for her… She's worth the effort after all.

For all the humor in this scene, there's also a more serious side. Starting with Lucy who is ready to come clean right away… Which is quite the statement from her, considering how she used to refuse to even put a label on her previous relationships. And the implications behind this… She is fine with disclosing their relationship to their superior officers after only one date. One that they didn't get to finish. Her certainty in them is so precious. And Tim's face… There are so many different emotions here. But mostly, he's taken aback by her readiness. It's clear he isn't yet - but it doesn't mean that he is less committed. As unserious as his comments about Smitty or the 'ooohs' are, it does reveal underneath what his concerns are : gossip. That their colleagues would be talking about them. About Lucy. And that's quite telling that this was his first thought. Not the issue of the chain of command, not that it could be too soon...

And to be fair, Lucy isn't any more keen to face their colleagues' judgements. Hence her choice to go for a cover story. And this is such a good callback to her approach to their undercover op… The one that started it all. Tim's smile when she tells him her story… I do wonder if his mind went back to her previous cover story, the one that broke his brain… Either way, he is looking so proud. Both of them for that matter. That is, until Nolan comes over… They barely make it a few seconds before blowing it up. All it took was for John to say hi. That's it. They're so worried on getting caught that they end up raising suspicion. Luckily for them, he is just befuddled, wondering what they are even talking about. Their faces once they realise that he doesn't have a clue as to what's going on and they were giving themselves away… They are so transparent. These two are a complete disaster and I love every second of this.

#the rookie #chenford #chenfordedit #lucy chen #tim bradford #5.10 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

[omi-papus]

Imagine that all that arguing actually leads to something and Al-An genuenly comes to understand that some “ineficiencies” , like non work related hobbies, music, parties, entretainment and other things humans do that are not directly beneficial to the general function of a society are just inherently human traits that cannot be deleted nor ignored and that they are important simply because they are a fundimental part of the human experience, in the same way that an Architect can not stop advancing and re-inventing itself. Basically humans not doing these things is quite literally torture.

Now every everyone would expect mister “eficiency up the ass” to be all in on Alterran hustle culture and distopian ideals, but the reality is actually the complete oposite.

“I am making sure to edit thw employment contract so my staff stops all non work related activities from now on. Way too many of my people keep missing emails and calls because these off time activities make them unavailable, and they should be focusing on their careers anyway. All these people going out, playing dumb little games. Its a complete waste of time. Its honestly large loss of revenue since these activities stop employess from taking on more overtime work.”

Al-An: I will ask amicably that you resign from your position, and leave the site imediatly.

“Hah! Yhea you get i- wait what?”

Al-An: *brings out arms* We will not tolerate any attempt, systematic or otherwise, to erase human life.

“Hey hey hey hey what are you talking about?! Im just trying to make things more eficient”

Al-An: *starts turning arms into saws* To deprive a species the ability to perform their natural behaviours, is considered a form of violence even if it is from a member of said species. You have made a direct violent threat to a larger number of humans and therefore calissify as a threat to the human collective, which I am allied with and am responsible for defending.

Al-An: *Starts walking closer* If you attempt to follow through on this threat we will be forced to use force. So I once again, ask you to resign and abandon the premises.

Al-An: I am asking nicely.

#Robin is in the corner getting extreamly turned on watching this happening #its 2am I dont know what this turned into #subnautica #subnautica below zero #robin ayou #al-an #al an

[cowboyfromh3ll]

AHHHH FANTASTIC!!!!!!

okay so , I'll just send one for kieran.. I LOVE SEEING OTHeR PEOPLE WRITE FOR HIM BECAUSE I DO SO MUCH :) <3

so for a request, maybe it's after kieran gets off the tree, and the reader (either gender neutral or fem but its up to you! <3) notices he has a slight limp and he complains about his back hurting a bunch, so the reader is like

"well why don't you come to my tent tonight and i'll help you out?" and kieran (reluctantly) agrees , and supposedly he's just getting a back massage

so in the evening he goes to readers tent, they/she has a lantern and a bottle of oil and shes like "go on and take off your shirt", SEEMINGLY innocently (and it'd be better tbh if they/she didn't ACTUALLY have any intentions)

so he does and they start giving him a back massage, maybe straddling the back of his thighs as they do so and at first its quiet, and it feels SO. SO good and kieran moans by accident

and, they're like.. 😳 okay.. but they keep going and say nothing , and things start getting a bit more tense when he keeps moaning and reader feels him squirm and sees him trying to rut his hips into their cot ..

... and things get.. spicy...

THIS IS DEF NOT SELF INDULGENT AND I HOPE ITS NOT TOO MUCH!!!! I HOPE ITS OKAY TO ASK FOR THIS ITS TOTALLY OKAY IF NOT BUT PLEASE I'D LOVE TO SEE THIS AND YOU'RE WRITING IS AMAZING !!! TAKE YOUR TIME <333333 :(

Heaven Is A Bedroom

(Kieran Duffy x Fem!Reader Smut)

I didn't edit this 🖤

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Kieran was broken for good, though the weepy, petulant state he occupied for the first few weeks after being tied to the tree did thankfully fade. He’d been starved and humiliated, something you never partook in, but you did occasionally go and chat with him, offering him any food you did have. Admittedly, you had harbored disdain for Kieran initially, looking down on him for his status as an O’Driscoll, but it was only after seeing how pathetic of a state the man truly was in that you began pitying him. Even if others were around to watch you, you would unabashedly go over and clean Kieran up, spoon feeding him what you could, and talking to him about mundane little topics. You also hadn’t been shy about telling anyone who chastised you to fuck off, arguing that you were grown and could do what you wanted. Kieran himself had been hesitant to accept your services, who could blame him, but seeing how you were so passionate about doing it, and how he didn’t have many options, he took what he could from you.

You watched on in slight amusement as Bill terrorized Kieran, a burgeoning sense of annoyance rising in you when you saw him with glowing red shears in his hand. If it were anyone else, you would’ve swatted their hands away, but you did not want to deal with Bill. You couldn’t help but gasp and ogle when they forced Kieran’s pants down. Part of you wanted to yell at them to stop, another part of you wanted to laugh at just how unfortunate the situation was. It seemed as though every time Kieran’s pain and suffering reached its crescendo, it somehow managed to reach infinite more peaks. You dare not look at Kieran for too long, granting him some sort of dignity.

In a matter of minutes, Kieran had managed to find himself relieved from his restraints, being untied so he could lead a few of the men to who knows where. You watched on in vague interest, relieved he had managed to rid the camp of a few of the men. ‘If only he had taken Micah with him’ you thought. Besides your own catty thoughts, you made a mental note of Kieran’s limp. You smiled in excitement at the opening that presented itself to you. Offering a massage to Kieran might be another act of kindness you could grant him, helping him feel more at home. Perhaps Kieran’s hearty reserves of suffering made him pliable enough to accept such an invitation.

After their return to camp, you had been one of the first to hear from Arthur about Kieran’s brave act in saving him. Rather heroic for someone so callus he claimed. The story was quite delightful, certainly affirming the fact that he was deserving of a massage. A prize for such a victory you thought.

“Hey Kieran.” You approached him with a cup of coffee in hand. The way he turned to look at you was akin to a child being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do, even though he was only brushing the horses.

“Oh, hey, (Name).” His voice cracked with nervous inflection. That same timid pronunciation that made you feel a sense of endearment for him.

“I heard about what you did today.” You smiled while taking a sip of your coffee. “Real brave of ya, saving the life of the camp’s big, strong man.” You giggled, motioning over towards Arthur.

“Yeah well, I feel like if I didn’t then Bill or John would’ve thought I was the one who killed Arthur then killed me…” He said sheepishly. The two of you stood there awkwardly, processing the morbid implications of his remark. Kieran wanted to slap himself.

“But uh, I managed to gain my freedom! In a way, even though I’m not allowed outside of camp, at least I’m not tied to that tree anymore. They almost let me go entirely, but I had to argue with ‘em a bit…” You nodded in understanding. Kieran was right, a decent point of contention was the fact that he saved Arthur’s life. And was riding with the gang not more freeing than the gripping fear of looming death by Colm O’Driscoll himself had he not continued to stay with the gang?

“Well I noticed you were limping there.” You pointed out his awkward gait, circling your finger as you looked at his legs.

“Yeah well, being tied to a tree ain’t too comfortable. My back hurts real bad.” Kieran stretched, and as if on cue, his back cracked painfully loud, causing you to wince.

“Well if you’d like, I can give you a massage.”

The forwardness of your request caused Kieran to choke on his own spit, and you watched on in concern as he gripped his chest, doubling over as he tried to gather himself. His face flushed so hard you thought something might rupture if any more blood arrived.

“If you’d like of course… you don’t gotta… accept.”

“No! No, I mean, I’d appreciate it very much, yes.” He interjected, nodding overzealously. You smiled in satisfaction, nodding to yourself.

“Alright then! I’ll see you in my tent tonight.”

If anyone were around you and heard that sentence they might have thought you were inviting Kieran to sleep with you. Kieran seemed to have had the same thought when he realized how suggestive the invitation sounded, but he did not want to pop your bubble of obliviousness. Nor did he think that’s what you were suggesting anyways. Kieran was at least given something to look forward to that night.

Upon his arrival to your tent, he might as well have been greeted by you stark naked. Because in seeing the low light of the singular oil lamp and the bottle of oil, his mind went straight to the gutter. Though your enthusiasm to help overrode any sensual thoughts he might’ve had. Your wide smile and rosy cheeks looked far too innocent to be entertaining such thoughts.

“Hey Kieran!” You greeted, patting the cot next to you. You rested on your knees, waiting for Kieran to make himself comfortable. He continued to stand at the flaps of your tent in consideration, giving this whole ordeal a second thought. He definitely wanted it, but he had never had this done to him before; he simply didn’t want to embarrass himself. Adding to that, what if this whole proposition was part of some twisted, elaborate prank you had set up with a few of the others to embarrass him.

“Get in here already!” You ushered, dragging him in by the arm, effectively leaving any doubts he had outside the tent. He laughed dryly to himself, feeling his muscles tense up even more. He stood there awkwardly, as if he were instructed to carry out a bank robbery and was sent in without a single instruction; he didn’t know what to do.

“Take off your shirt.” You instructed, opening the bottle of oil and rubbing it on your hands. The glowing light from the lamp gave your hands an orange glow. The instruction caused Kieran’s mind to go to the gutter once again. Shakily, he began unbuttoning the front of his shirt, his eyes darting from his shirt then to you with each button he undid. As more of his torso was revealed, he began to fidget uncomfortably. He felt your eyes boring through his torso as he slid his shirt off hesitantly. After weeks of malnourishment, he had suddenly become incredibly self conscious of his body. He looked back up at you once again and felt a small sense of relief when he saw your smile.

“Alright, now lay down.” You patted the cot once again and moved aside to make room for him to climb on. He grunted as he adjusted himself, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding when he relaxed his limbs and released his full weight onto the cot. His muscles went rigid when he felt you move onto his back, straddling the back of his thighs and putting your body weight on him.

He pushed himself up with his forearms frantically, looking back at you.

“W-W-Wait what are you doing?!” He swallowed hard, beginning to tremble. He felt as though you might call Bill or Arthur in any second now.

“I’m just getting into position! Relax…” Kieran’s eyes widened when your slipper hands slid onto his shoulders, giving them a squeeze before gently pushing his chest back against the cot again. You realized how much he was trembling, pursing your lips when you realized how much work you had to do.

“Alright…” He tried to relax for you, putting his arms to his side, a gesture of vulnerability that was a milestone for him. He heard you giggle to yourself above him, blowing hot air onto your hands before touching his shoulders once again. You dug your digits into the knots in his shoulders, pressing in circular motions. It took everything in Kieran to not unleash the most embarrassing sounds of his lives.

The massage was undeniably good. You’d first worked on his shoulders, alternating between cupping one of your hands in a c shape and dragging along his traps, to using your thumbs to dig into the muscles. You grimaced when you felt the knots shift beneath your fingers, admittedly becoming a little squeamish. Sometimes you’d even go in with your elbow.

“You’re real tense.” You’d comment, to which he laughed bashfully. “Yeah…”

You reached for the bottle of oil next to your foot, leaning down before unscrewing it and pouring more into your hand. Some of the thick liquid seeped through your fingers and dripped onto Kieran’s lower back, to which he would arch his stomach off the cot momentarily. Your hands traveled from his shoulders down along his dorsi, where you’d form your hands into knuckles and dug them in, dragging them along the muscle. Kieran would let out the occasional curse or hiss, to which you’d both laugh at. But when you began massaging a particularly sore spot, he let out an incipient moan.

You froze; Kieran felt you freeze. You both sat there in a mortified silence as you let the awkwardness from what you’d just heard settle in. You let out a pithy laugh to try and cut the tension, feeling just how rigid Kieran’s thighs had gotten under you.

“You uh, must be really enjoying yourself.” You joked stiffly.

“Yeah…” Was all he could say in return; he sounded incredibly strained.

You continued to massage him in silence, grunting occasionally as you put your weight into working his muscles loose. He let out a few more squeaks and groans out, and eventually you felt Kieran shift under you, and you almost wanted to chastise him and tell him to stay still, when you realized he was rutting into your cot.

You retracted your hands, making varying facial expressions until your jaw opened slightly, eyes widening. He was grinding into your cot. You realized what he was trying to do. You slid off his thighs, confusing him. He looked back at you confused, hoisting himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“What happened?” He asked. Though he wasn’t completely oblivious as to your reasoning. A sense of depreciation began to spread through his shoulders like a cold wind; had he completely weirded you out by moaning. He felt his stomach turn when he saw you sit before him on the ground next to the cot, looking at the ground as you tried to find your words. You eventually found it in yourself to look up at him, opening your mouth to speak, though it would be a moment before you actually said anything.

“Do you… want me to touch you?” You asked.

Kieran laid there and stared at you, bewildered. Did you mean what he thought you meant? Touch how? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound dumb. Perhaps you just meant keep touching him, as in a massage, but it had already been established that you were allowed to. He turned on the cot to better face you, forgetting himself momentarily and revealing his erection to you. Your eyes moved towards it and remained on it, indicating what you truly meant to Kieran. His breaths became shaky with apprehensiveness as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Slowly he nodded, unable to get the words out. There was an underlying sense of adolescence in the way the two of you were so nervous. Kieran sat up and leaned his back against the tent, scooting over slightly to the left to allow you room to sit next to him. You both carried yourself with uneasiness, not sure how to proceed and move this moment along.

“Uh…can I…?” You trailed off, making an unbuttoning motion with your hand before pointing at his pants. He stared at you before nodding, suddenly feeling his throat become dry. With shaky hands, you undid the front of his jeans, pushing them open before sliding your hand in. Your fingers combed through his pubic hair before you felt his appendage, pausing and giving yourself a mental pep talk before gripping his base. You pulled his cock out slowly, revealing it to yourself. The dim lighting of the tent made it difficult to see clearly, yet you could see his glistening tip when you tugged on his cock. Kieran was sucking in shaky breaths as you studied it, feeling a wave of self consciousness as you kept looking.

“Oh!” You suddenly pulled away, exclaiming excitedly. You reached for the bottle of oil, uncorking it before splashing some more onto your hands carelessly. In your haste, your nightgown staining with the liquid, a problem you would worry about later. He suddenly felt all the more excited watching you lather your hands in the oil, the light shining on them to make them appear waxy and slick. Carefully, you picked up his cock again and slowly slid your hand down his length, reveling in the wanton groan he let out. He threw his head back before lolling it to the side.

“Don’t be too loud…” You hushed. “We don’t wanna get found out!”

The very idea of people knowing caused a shudder to rack through Kieran. He could already imagine the weeks of teasing he’d have to endure. All the terrible phrases and words that would be tossed around. Not to mention, you’d also probably be on the receiving end of some bullying as well. You began stroking his cock, a consistent slick sound becoming distinct with each pump of your hand. You bit your bottom lip in concentration, using the pitch and volume of his moans to pick up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Soon enough, his erection was glistening with a mix of pre cum and oil. You laughed breathlessly, giddy that you were doing this right now.

Excitement replaced apprehension as the two of you continued, and you subsequently allowed Kieran to pull your nightgown off. It took some convincing on your behalf, insisting he was allowed to look and touch, but he eventually worked up the courage to do it. He looked from your breasts back at you as if asking for permission. You nodded with a smile, beckoning his touch. He trembled as he cupped your breasts, seemingly fascinated by the soft globes of flesh in his hands, particularly the feeling of your hardening nipples poking into his palm. He forgot about his erection, insteading focusing on touching you now. His hands slid down your sides, tickling you and making you squirm.

“I’m ticklish…” You chided playfully, grabbing his wrists. Your face lit up to indicate you had another idea, and you reached for the bottle of oil again. You demanded Kieran show his hands so that you could pour oil on them, doing him the favor of rubbing the substance in.

“Rub me all over.” You raised your brows and moved your shoulders side to side playfully, your breasts moving in tandem. More confidently this time, Kieran ran his hands over your, stopping to squeeze your breasts before traveling down towards your hips. He repeated this in circular motions, properly oiling you up. You squirmed and gasped, half from pleasure and half from feeling ticklish.

Without warning, you got up and removed your bloomers, the only article of clothing you were left wearing. Kieran gasped in surprise, not sure himself how far this was going to get. He supposed he got his answer. You stopped and turned to look at him before stepping out of them.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh, I didn’t know we’d be…” He trailed off, still unsure about the implications. You looked down at your feet, realizing your brashness.

“Oh…We don’t have to if you don't want to!” You reassured, making a motion to pull your bloomers back on. You felt a tinge of embarrassment; perhaps you had also misread the situation?

“No no, I want to…” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Only if you want to…” He added.

You smiled widely, feeling a non sexual urge of adoration for him. “Yes, I want to too.”

You hurriedly kicked your bloomers off before walking towards the cot. You placed a lithe hand on Kieran’s chest and pushed him to lay flat on the cot. Quickly, you poured even more oil onto your hands and rubbed it on your cunt, gasping at your ministrations. He raised his hips to aid you in shuffling his pants lower before you straddled his hips. You pushed your pubis into him, releasing low moans in unison.

Hurriedly, you lifted your hips as he assisted you in inserting himself. You sat down on his lap fully, taking his engorged cock in all at once. You placed a hand over Kieran’s mouth as you began bouncing on his lap, the only sounds in the room being his muffled moans and the slapping of skin on skin. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from being loud, rather focusing all your attention on raising and lowering yourself.

Your thighs burned at the repeated action, but you willed yourself to continue, only stopping momentarily to keep the burning at bay before continuing quickly after. Kieran came quickly after, but you kept going. Even when his muffled moans turned into high pitched whines from overstimulation, you chased your own release.

You retracted your hand, smirking down at Kieran. He looked completely debauched, his face red and sweaty, eyes watering from pleasure. You teased him by playing with your tits, rubbing even more oil on them as you pulled and squeezed your own nipples. He looked hypnotized by the way they bounced with each motion. Eventually, you trailed a hand down between your legs, spreading your glistening folds for Kieran so he could watch as you rubbed your clit. You threw your head back and let loose a string of curses, cumming all over Kieran’s cock with fervor.

You stilled on his lap, smiling as you gasped and tried to catch your breath. You looked down at Kieran who was smiling back at you. Kieran remained in you as you laid down on his chest, ear to his heart as you listened to it gradually slow down.

“Wow.” He gasped, causing you to giggle.

“Wow, indeed.” You added. The two of you laid there silently, basking in the afterglow of sex.

“Did you like your massage?” You asked suddenly, craning your neck to face him.

“Yes, definitely. Especially the part that came after.” He joked. Your laughter was cut off by angry footsteps outside your tent.

“Are you two done yet?!” It was Bill. “Camp isn’t exactly the most private area y’know!”

The two of you looked at eachother, a look of shared knowledge as you braced yourselves for the weeks of teasing waiting down the line for you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Heaven Is A Bedroom - TV Girl

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #Kieran Duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy fluff #Kieran Duffy x reader smut #Kieran duffy smut

[teecupangel]

Everything Everywhere all at Once has a ‘love and acceptance heals’ point and I love it. I was wondering how it would go with the assassins with the reality jumping. Would Desmond be Waymond? Would he be alpha Waymond or the one who got away or normal, kind and financially struggling Waymond?

Here’s a meh-ly edited EEAO poster with all the Desmond in it I made before. I remember there already being an EEAO-esque ask before but I cannot find it in this Tumblr as usual XD (weirdly enough, I cannot remember the ask itself so, if anyone remembers it and it sounds so eerily like this then I’m sorry)

So for this one, we’re setting Desmond up as the love interest of the main character. You decide who the MC Assassin is and the main point of this entire thing is that the Assassin keeps reality jumping and, in every reality, the Assassin meets Desmond.

The other realities give the Assassin version of him that are alive either by it being set in the past or 'present'.

This would be easier if the Assassin also came from modern day, either using a canon modern day Assassin or a modern day AU but even if the Assassin came from the past, a big ‘mystery’ of this entire thing could be that Desmond is part of that Assassin’s past. Desmond appeared one day and they became close, finally becoming a couple after a bit of pining from both sides. The one the Assassin is chasing is actually a version of their child, Elijah. The Assassin didn’t know it when they started chasing Elijah because the dark hooded reality jumper attacked Desmond and killed him.

It’s only after it’s revealed to be a different reality of Elijah that the Assassin realized that the reason why this Elijah had been able to kill Desmond was because Desmond couldn’t attack back, having realized who was attacking him.

The Assassin is shrouded by anger and the desire to avenge the death of Desmond and follows that Elijah into different realities.

Elijah kept trying to kill the Desmonds in different realities, the Assassin always comes to stop him before it’s too late. Even when given the chance, the Assassin couldn't kill Elijah because they remember their own child and the vicious cycle continues.

In every reality, the Assassin sees Desmond living his life, sometimes with a version of the Assassin or with someone else (these various "someone else" are the other Assassins). Sometimes, he lives alone but is happy nonetheless, paving his own path. In every reality, the Assassin falls in love with that Desmond but doesn’t do anything other than save him, hoping that that reality’s Desmond would continue to be happy.

And then the Assassin is sent to a reality where the world was burned by the Solar Flare and what remains of the humans have banded together to survive. In this world, the Assassin finds the oldest Desmond they’ve had ever met.

And this Desmond tells him the truth.

The realities were slowly falling apart because there is one singular point that kept being destroyed. A singularity point is a point in time that must happen. It is a cornerstone of the timelines. An event that must never be changed.

And that singular point?

Desmond Miles’ death.

In every reality, Desmond Miles is meant to die but these Desmond Miles found a ‘loophole’. Die for a second or so and use the singularity point’s energy to transfer themselves somewhere in the timeline to live.

The Desmond in the Assassin’s original reality did the same thing. Every other Desmond the Assassin met, living in the past, have done the same thing.

And the Desmond the Assassin met in the ‘modern day’? They did a similar thing only picking ‘the present’ as their transfer point.

Because of this, every reality was starting to crumble.

And the old Desmond that the Assassin met was a singularity point that found a different loophole. Because every Desmond was meant to die to save the world.

But the Desmond of this barren world let the world burn to live.

His loophole is the only ‘valid’ one because he actually created a separate timeline from the others.

But once their reality collapses, he would die as well.

And this is the reality of the Elijah that the Assassin is hunting down. Because that Elijah was raised by his father with love and care. That Elijah found a way to jump through realities to kill the other Desmonds in hopes of saving his reality.

Of saving his father.

“So if you wish to stop Elijah, there is a far easier way than chasing after him.” The old Desmond said as he took the Assassin’s left wrist. He placed the Assassin’s hand around his throat and tapped the Assassin’s hidden blade gauntlet with his point finger as he said, “All you have to do is kill me. That child will be notified of my death and will stop.”

“And my death… will save this reality from the collapse as well. Because there would no longer be any Desmond Miles in it.” Desmond lifted his sleeve, showing the telltale sign of the Apple’s light engraved in his skin, “No one in this world can kill me. No matter how old I become or how grave my wounds are or how near death my body comes to, the power of the Pieces of Eden I absorbed would return me to the body I had when I absorbed them. I am, at this state, immortal. But you…”

“You don’t belong in this reality. The rules of realities not your own do not affect you. You can kill me.”

“Kill me and take the power of the Pieces of Eden inside me.” Desmond ordered with a soft smile, “A body that does not come from the same reality as the Pieces of Eden will be able to connect with the very fabric that connects all the realities and fix the broken ones.”

Desmond placed a hand on the Assassin’s cheek as he warned, “It will take you years, thousands of years, maybe even an eternity… but you will become an entity greater than any of us. Not a god… but a prisoner, forever fixing the broken pieces created by the selfishness of countless Desmond Miles.”

“But you will do it, won’t you?” Desmond’s words sounded like a question but it held a finality in them.

Like he already knew the answer to his question.

“Because you love Desmond Miles enough to sacrifice yourself for his happiness.” Desmond whispered, as if telling a secret that must not be said out loud.

“You followed my son to avenge the Desmond you lost but you continued to jump through all the other realities to save them instead. To save countless Desmonds who didn’t even have the same memories as the Desmond you lost. You saved them because you fall in love with them anyway and…” Desmond’s smile became broken and tears gathered in his eyes, “…. you will continue to save them. As the overseer of the realities.”

“Kill me… and save the realities. No…”

“Save the other Desmonds.”

#if the singularity point sounds familiar #in spiderverse it’s called a canon event #i went with singularity point instead #so it wouldn’t sound too meta #in other words this is like eeao x spiderverse au? #well nonny i don't know if you wanted angst #but you're getting angst XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #you guys know by now who i was thinking when i wrote this but pick any assassin you want for the lead role XD

[samssims]

Hi Sam! I was wondering if I could ask for some advice on how to make simblr fun again? I love storytelling (it's how I have fun with the game) but lately with writing posts and even in game, I just find myself stressing over if it's good/interesting enough or if I took good screenshots, if my writing is good, etc. I love this game and sharing my stories with this community, so it sucks to feel like this. Thank you sm ♥

Oh Nonny, how I feel this pain. I wish I had a sure fire answer to this but sadly there isn't just one thing that will work.

I will put some advice below for some things that have worked for me in my experience if you're interested in trying them out to try to find that spark again!

Now I have been on tumblr sharing my sims since 2013 so I have seen the community change a lot. Things change, people come and go, it's just the natural way of things. So a lot of the time your community can change around you and so a few years ago sims storytelling was really popular and it was the thing everyone was doing. And I mean everyone.

But now things have sort of fallen off or shifted and there is no shame in that for those who moved onto other things and hobbies. Sims storytelling, at it's core, is a hobby. No one is making money off of it (unless you write it all down and get it published in which case, hell yeah go you!)

That being said, finding your spark again is going to be finding what YOU like about storytelling in the sims.

So here are some tips you can try out in the game to keep it fresh and exciting:

Play the Game

The game has changed a lot and added a lot. It came out in 2014. It's about to be 10 years old. With expansions still being added. Honestly having a family where you can just play through what the game offers you can offer inspiration on how to use in game things for story related things later on.

I have found having a lowkey gameplay (for yourself or even for your blog if you are posting) is an easy way to stay active in the community while keeping things low stakes and casual for yourself while you work on finding your spark again.

Change Up your Post Style

Idk about you Nonny, but nothing gets me less motivated than having to edit photos. If I could just point, shoot, and post, I would have content coming out my ears. Which is what I started doing with my Princess Legacy. All I do is crop it. I add some things here and there but really it's all pretty much easy.

Now I have done it all.

Prose on photos.

Prose under photos:

Icons Only:

Gameplay Only:

And finally just cropped:

Now what is the best? That is personal preference especially for the project you are doing. However I have definitely discovered the crop method to be SUPER helpful.

It makes me not have to worry about the whole photo. Sometimes I have this SUPER awesome detail in the back of a photo but when I crop them I lose all that. Which is not good for storytelling lets be honest but does force me to focus on what is actually important in the shot.

Example: Here is the full cottage photo from above You can see that I cropped out a lot of the cottage in favor of being able to see the deer and swans as i thought that was more a cozy fairytale vibe than just the cottage itself. I lost a lot of this detail yet the point still came across.

TBH the paired crop photos also makes me cut out a lot of access photos if they don't have a pair. It's sort of made me realize how much I don't need to take screenshots of. Though I am definitely an overtaker of photos so I always have plenty to choose from. Sometimes I even queue them then look back and realize they aren't needed and delete. It's humbled me a bit.

I could break down every one of these posting styles but that's a whole other thing you didn't ask about.

TLDR of this section is to experiment with how you post. You can have a lot of fun with that.

If Something is Boring, Skip it.

Do you hate the infant stage? Age them past it. Do you hate the winter months in game? Set seasons to never have winter. Do you hate in game holidays ruining your plans? Delete them all from your calendar. Is it a crucial part to your story? Not anymore. Write around it. Or find some creative angles and dialogue to write over it.

Make the game fit you!

Follow the Inspo

Have inspiration to make a new sim in CAS? Do it! Want to make a whole new save? Have an idea for one scene that could start a whole story but you have nothing else for it? DO IT!!!

The game is supposed to be fun. If you have inspiration for a project, live in it. Have fun with it.

But Sam, what if only lasts 2 weeks and I never touch it again?

Me too, babes. Happens to me all the time. Own it. Keep it around in case you want to mess with it later. Have 10 million saves. It's your life and if it brings you a moment of joy to work on it, then it totally is worth it.

If you want to be like me: Be chaotic and post it too. Then private the posts later when you decide to never touch it again. Never delete tho. I always tend to regret deleted things.

Find Your Community

You should ultimately write and create for yourself, but find others who are doing it too! Lift them up as well! Use one day a week on your blog to give reblogs or shoutouts to your fellow creators and writers! It's all about lifting each other up and making friends who all have the same hobby as us.

Try New Challenges

A lot of my sims storytelling started from inspiration around legacy challenges. I loved to take challenge rules and figure out how to make a story around them. But remember: Rules are made to be broken. Especially in favor of a good story.

If you are working on a current challenge/story, find another to merge with it or to give yourself a heck of a fun plot twist. There are no rules!

Have Fun!

This is sort of the whole crux of it, right? And if you're not having fun then...

Take a Break

You are not beholden to your queue! Let it die out! Disappear for 6 months. Return when you want. Go play Animal Crossing or BG3 or whatever it is at the moment. Sims is a hobby. But it does not have to be your ONLY hobby. Let your brain rest.

In my case, whenever I leave the sims I am always filled with ideas and ready to come back in like 3 days.

This could also mean take a break from your save too. Maybe spend some time in CAS. Or in build mode. Or cleaning out your mods. You can still do sims things while letting your story brain rest.

TLDR:

There is no right answer for this, Nonny. I promise your photos are all gorgeous and your story is wonderful! But creativity like anything ebbs and flows so give yourself that grace to let yourself rest and just enjoy the game again, or enjoy time away from it! You deserve it you superstar creator!

#Sam Speaks #nonsims #looooong post #so sorry I got carried away #had to wait to get to my laptop to answer this one #which is why it took me a minute #hope you find your spark nonny!

[maggiedanikka]

Superstar (Part 1)

Pairing: Rooster x f!reader, (blink and you'll miss it, unrequited) Hangman x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, good ending promise

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 19.7k (holy sh*t)

Summary:  “I’m no one special, just another wide eyed girl, who's desperately in love with you.”

OR 

Rooster is sure he's in love with this girl. Only problem is, he's never seen or face or know her name

No use of y/n

Based of off Superstar (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

Author's Note: It's me, Hi. This one shot is so freaking late y'all. In all honesty I started writing this August around the time I finished writing Naked, but life and school happened and now here we are. It felt amazing getting to stretch my writing skills again for anything other than research papers, and I'm on winter break so it seems as good a time as any. I'm not going to give anymore excuses, but I promise this is worth a read. This is the longest single piece of work I have ever written. It ended at 65 pages and almost 20k words in my drafts. Its so long that Tumblr won't let post the entire one shot in one post so im splitting it in two, but dw send part will be posted immediately after this is posted. I also didn't have anyone edit this, so I apologize for any grammatical errors (most likely tense consistency bcs i suck at those) I hope you all enjoy reading it as I did writing it and I hope it tide y'all over until I can write the next chapter of Let Me Go. Here is Superstar.

Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was an enigma to you. How could anyone's voice be so hoarse and yet so strong?

As an air traffic controller for the Navy, you’ve heard every type of voice imaginable. The gruff demanding ones from the Air Boss, the shrill screams of pilots having to eject due to a bird strike, the quiet dulcet tones of a shy WSO, and everything in between. 

The first time you heard his voice through the comms, you weren’t exactly starstruck per se, just a bit thrown off.

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off.” 

It’s not like you didn’t know who the pilots flying this mission were. Everyone in the goddamn Navy knew who they were, they were the best of the best. 

You even saw their pictures. And thought some of them were cute (especially the one rocking the Miami Vice Stache). But hearing their voices was different from reading their files.

Though most of the details of the mission were classified, you had a basic idea and knew that there was a good chance that someone wasn’t coming home. 

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off”

The voice repeated. You snapped out of your thoughts, the voice was smooth as honey and it had just a hint of fear but yet so heavily determined. Your heart really went out to the poor pilot. 

“Dagger 2, you’re clear for take off.” You said, trying to convey as much sympathy as you could in those words. 

The actual mission itself didn’t last longer than 3 minutes. Working for the navy, you should’ve been used to the high stakes situations that often go hand in hand with these kinds of assignments. But you couldn’t help but sit on the edge of your seat during the duration of the mission.

There were a few initial hiccups, you felt like you were watching a movie as you listened to the daggers communicate with one another. Their nervousness (and to be honest your own) upon seeing the SAMs and your both concern and irritation at Lieutenant Bradshaw’s cautiousness. 

Yes, his by the book and precise flying is part of the reason why he was considered one of the best, but if he didn’t throw that shit out of the window and speed up he will end up getting himself killed. And even though you didn’t necessarily know him, this possibility filled your body with so much dread.

You felt relieved (well only slightly, they hadn’t made it out of the woods just yet) when Rooster finally got out of his own head and sped up. The two miracles were successfully pulled off and the 4 jets had made it past Coffin Corner. Now it was a dogfight all the way home.

You commended just how level headed and pragmatic the pilots were as they evaded the SAMs and attacks that were thrusted upon them. You knew if you were in the same situation you would’ve panicked and blown up by now. Your admiration was interrupted by the mayday call of Captain Mitchell.

A heavy tension set in the control room, everyone was shocked at what just transpired. It was interrupted by the voices of the other daggers. Notably Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Trace. 

Phoenix had announced that she and Lieutenant Floyd were heading back to home base, along with Payback and Fanboy. However, you were yet to hear confirmation from Rooster, with the last thing he said went along the lines of going after Maverick. 

You held your breath as you heard Admiral Simpson demanded his return. The control room was met with silence, and you knew exactly what he was going to do. 

It was less than 5 minutes when it was confirmed that Lieutenant Bradshaw’s plane had been shot down after attacking an enemy plane. His beacon went dark. 

Lieutenant Seresin requested clearance for take off but was rebuffed by the Air Boss. You had to take everything in you to not shed a tear.

A thick silence fell over the entire ship. The mission was technically a success but you wouldn’t be able to tell based on the solemn look on everyone’s faces. 

Even after the remaining daggers returned on the ship, no one wanted to leave the control room. The entire ship was at a standstill. 

That was until a beacon marked “Rooster” started beeping on the screen. 

No it couldn’t be.

“Sir, Rooster has gone supersonic.” You told Admiral Simpson with a gulp, trying to contain your hope. 

“An F-14 tomcat has been spotted sir.” Another ATC announced. 

“Maverick.” You heard someone say, not sure who but you did not care at that point. What’s important is that they were alive!

But it was not time to celebrate just yet. Two bogies were spotted alongside the F-14 Tomcat. And everyone knew this meant a dogfight was about to commence. 

The situation looked more and more grim. An ancient F-14 against Fifth Gens? It was unlikely for the two pilots to make it out unscathed yet alone alive.

But by some grace of God (or possibly Maverick’s unbeatable skill, probably both) they managed to take down two bogies. 

Rooster managed to turn on the plane’s radio to contact the ship. You felt relief which was instantly thwarted by the news that there was still one Fifth Gen, directly in front of the plane. 

You knew they needed help. You looked at Admiral Simpson desperately, hoping that he would allow the Reserve Dagger to go assist. But Cyclone seemed frozen and you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Dagger Reserve, are you ready for liftoff?” You spoke into the mic, the other people in the control room looked at you in shock.

“Finally!” The elated voice of Hangman came through the comms.

Admiral Simpson shot you a hard glare, if only looks could kill, you’d probably be as screwed as Maverick and Rooster. But you knew you had to do something. 

“Yes this is Dagger Reserve asking clearance for takeoff.” 

“Dagger Reserve, you are clear for takeoff. Bring our boys home.” You said with a small smile, if you get fired and discharged, possibly thrown into the ocean it’ll be worth it knowing what you did to save the aviators.

Hangman shot down the Fifth Gen with ease, earning him his second confirmed air combat kill. You knew that the other pilots would never hear the end of it. But all you cared about is he saved HIM.

Rooster’s laugh and banter with Hangman might’ve been the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard. 

Seeing him on the tarmac reunited with the rest of his team had to be one of the highlights of your career with the Navy, if this was the last moment you had in the branch then you were perfectly content. 

“What you did was reckless insubordination! If there was another fifth Gen out there, we would’ve lost 3 of our best pilots and 2 planes worth millions of dollars!” Admiral Simpson had chastised you. 

“I have half a mind to dishonorably discharge you!” You 're ready to accept your punishment with grace. You were however surprised at his next words 

“But your actions saved 2 of our men.” He added with a gulp.

“You are clear from punishment, but DO NOT make this a habit!”

“Yes sir.” You told him with a steady voice.

“Thank you sir.”

“You are dismissed, go join the rest of the fleet.” He told you.

You ran down to celebrate the returning pilots, but so was everyone else. You could only see a glimpse of Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw past the dozens of bodies approaching to greet them. 

But even from where you were standing you could see the beaming smile and bright eyes of the mustached pilot. And from that exact moment you knew you were a goner. 

———————————————————————-

Next time you heard his voice was a few weeks post mission. Apparently he accepted a post to teach at Top Gun. 

You were decently shocked to learn that the team assembled for the mission decided to stay in Miramar. Especially since they basically got their pick of post anywhere in the world. 

But you figured Lieutenant Bradshaw, or rather Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw (remembering his promotion), decided to stay because of his recent reconciliation with Captain Mitchell. 

“This is Rooster asking for clearance for takeoff.” He said through the comms.

“You’re still here?” Shit. You did not mean to say that out loud. 

You heard back a chuckle from the pilot.

“Yes, I decided to stick around Fightertown for a little while.”

“Sorry sir.” You replied grateful that he couldn’t see the blush that was forming on your cheeks. 

“You are clear for takeoff.”

“Thanks sweetheart. Roger that.” You felt your cheeks grow hotter as he took off into the air. 

“ATC you still there?” He asked you once he was at cruising altitude. 

“Yes Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I am still here.” Hoping that he forgot your earlier words and needed something official. 

“Any reason why you were shocked at my staying?” He asked you.

You gulped at his question. Was this allowed? You’ve never had a pilot ask you a question before that didn’t pertain to instructions, both on the ground and in the air. 

After a breath you answered his question.

“I heard about your promotion, and the offer to be posted anywhere in the world. Just surprised you chose to stay here.”

“Sometimes a family is worth more than any accolade or prestigious post.” He told you. You could tell he really cared about Maverick, but was not sure about the history of that. 

Would asking him be crossing a line?

“Why do you stay in fightertown?” He asks you.

“Not for anything as noble as your reason Lieutenant Commander, just an assigned post.” 

“Well I hope you’re liking Miramar. Actually grew up here.” You were surprised that he was still speaking to you, considering he was in the sky for a reason, and normally pilots didn’t maintain this much conversation with Air Traffic Control.

“I really like it so far, having some trouble with making friends though.” You don’t know why you admitted this to him, especially through comms that other people are definitely listening in to. And especially to a Naval hero who definitely would have no interest in the life of a lowly ATC. 

“Well, consider me your first friend sweetheart.” He responded and he actually sounded genuine. You couldn’t help but smile at the aviator's words.

You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hangman through the comms. 

“Usually I would encourage this, but you can flirt later, Rooster, we gotta shoot down Mav.”

Your little bubble had been burst as you remembered why you had to clear him for takeoff earlier.

“That’s my cue, talk to you later, friend.”

“Have a good exercise Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.” You respond with a smile you know he’d never see. 

Your shift ended before they finished their exercise, so you didn’t get to give Rooster clearance to land (or maybe you just hoped to speak to him again). But from what you heard, it was the closest the team got to finally shooting down the infamous Captain. 

You knew that one day they could surpass the pilot, but you were glad that they were able to learn and grow (and stay) a little longer at Top Gun.

In an effort to make more friends you agreed to go out with some of your fellow ATCs that night. Which is how you ended up in a bar on the beach called ‘the Hard Deck’.

Your co-workers were nice enough, and you were honestly glad that you weren’t spending another night with a plate of pad Thai watching yet another crappy Netflix rom-com. 

Imagine your surprise when Rooster and his crew of pilots walked into the very same bar. They went straight to the pool tables and were currently arguing over who got to play first. 

“God definitely has favorites, because they are so fine.” Your co-worker Laura sighs. 

“I wanna climb Seresin like a tree.” She adds.

“I’m more of a Coyote and Payback kind of gal.” Your other co-worker Sara remarked. 

“But I wouldn’t kick Fanboy or Bob out of bed, they look like they know some tricks.” 

She said as she took another drink of her martini. You agreed with their judgements but couldn’t help but only have eyes for one of the pilots.

“Good choice.” Your other co-worker Lia tells you after following your gaze. 

“Bradshaw definitely takes the cake.” 

You blush upon being caught staring at Rooster. 

All your co-workers nodded in agreement with Lia. 

“He’s not as pretty as Hangman but he’s somehow more fuckable.” Laura comments. 

You couldn’t help but feel possessive as the other women also stared at Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw with hungry eyes. 

But it’s not like you had any right to that feeling, he wasn’t yours, he didn’t even know who you were. 

The conversation moved on to other topics, it could’ve been anything from the weather or the latest Naval gossip but you were only half paying attention. You were honestly just glad that they were done ogling a certain pilot. 

You really liked the Hard Deck. It was now clear that it was a Navy spot and it was really cool to see the usually serious people from work loosened up in civilian clothes. 

The night was bustling and while you were glad for some company, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. All these women knew each other and had all these little jokes with one another, and you were an outsider that had a bit of a neurotic streak.

You were wondering if this was a pity invite, and you were slowly leaning to a yes but you were already here, might as well make the best of it.

You prepared yourself to jump back into the conversation, when the music from the jukebox had abruptly stopped. And while the men booed, you saw that the women all stopped and stared at the piano. Or rather the person at the piano. 

Lo and behold, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was seated at the decades old instrument, his fingers expertly playing an old Elton John hit. Of course he would have an affinity for the 80s, as shown by his mustache.

If you thought his speaking voice was beautiful, his singing voice was downright heavenly. He had this low tenor that was so strong and made “I’m still standing” sound sensual. How is that even possible?

Obviously you weren’t the only person that thought so, you saw women dancing in front of him, singing along and obviously trying to get his attention. 

For the other women (and some men) that weren’t, were singing along and staring, were all bewitched at the pilot’s skill. And really, who could blame them?

He had this air of confidence that even the cockiest of pilots could never compete with, he was a superstar. In the air and the ground. 

When he (sadly) finished his song, the entire bar cheered and chanted his name. He did a silly dance and seemed to have no care in the world.

You couldn’t help but fall for him a little more. 

——-——————————————————————

“This is Rooster, in the air calling for Air Traffic Control.”

You just started your shift less than 2 minutes ago and did not know that Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was already in the air.

“This is Air Traffic Control, what do you need, Lieutenant Commander?” You ansered, trying to keep your voice calm, hoping your little crush on the aviator wouldn’t show in your voice. 

“It’s you!” Rooster exclaimed.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir?”

“You’re the ATC from the other day? The one that agreed to be my friend.”

A blush crept onto your face, you were surprised he remembered your interaction. 

“Um yes sir.” 

“You got off the comm lines so quickly the other day. I didn’t get to invite you to hang out with me and meet some other new friends at the Hard Deck.” 

Your heart grew warm. He was serious? He wasn’t just trying to be polite?

“I was at the Hard Deck sir. Saw you there with your squadron.”

“Oh shit, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Seemed rude to just insert myself, sir.”

“Plus you seemed preoccupied with your adoring fans.” You said with a giggle. 

“It was an amazing performance.”

“Oh yeah? Are you a fan?” You heard him ask, already seeing his smirk in your mind. 

“Oh yeah definitely! Consider me the president of the fan club sir.” You quipped. 

“So what does the role of “president” entail?” 

“You know, make t-shirts, teach the Rooster 101 class, and of course host the weekly meeting where we talk about how hot and talented Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is.”

“So you think I’m hot?”

Your face grew warm in response, and cursed yourself for accidentally flirting nonsensically. And prayed to whatever higher power that no one was currently listening to the comm line. 

“Oh um-.” You began to respond.

“No! Sir-…um I just…”

“You know it’s frowned upon to lie to your superiors.” He said in a serious tone.

“Oh no I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to-“

“ATC….”He interrupts, with an inflection at the end of the last letter 

“Yes I think you’re hot Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw” You confessed with a gulp.

He let out a hearty chuckle.

You were completely mortified and you don’t think your face has ever been this hot before. If you thought you didn’t have a chance before, more so now. You were debating whether you should disconnect now and go back to your job (I mean this is technically your job, but not the flirting part). 

You were broken out of your inner debate by Rooster

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“You know you don’t have to keep calling me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw right?”

“You can call me Rooster.”

You were thankful for the subject change. 

“Okay Lieutenant Comma-“

“Sorry, okay….Rooster.”

“Now that’s better.” He said with a slight laugh, you could already see his dazzling smile now.

“How about you ATC? What should I call you?”

“Oh you can call me-“ you began to say.

“This is Lieutenant Finch asking for clearance for takeoff.” You were cut off by the comm.

You sighed, back to real life. 

“I’m sorry Rooster, I got to go back to duty.”

You cut off the comm lines before he could respond.

————————————————————————

Next time you saw him, he was walking down a hallway with Lieutenant Commander Trace by his side. He was talking so animatedly, his hands waving around as he delivered his point.

It sounded like he was gushing about a tail spin maneuver that Maverick pulled off, and god he’s so beautiful. When he speaks it’s like you couldn’t help but listen. Hell! you bet a reading of the F-18 NATOPS would sound like absolute sin coming from his mouth. 

You were so caught up in his voice that you didn’t notice how close you were to passing him.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat as your shoulders brushed against his as you walked in the opposite direction. Even through your thick khakis, you can feel how muscular his shoulders were. Damn this man works out.

“Oops sorry ma’am” he stopped and turned to you. His eyes were concerned that he hurt you from a measly bump. This man could not be real.

“I didn't mean to bump you. And as put together as I seem to be, I am actually a huge klutz and a hazard to pretty girls.” He said with a chuckle and a wink.

You tried to respond to him, but only a squeak managed to leave your mouth. Starstruck that he’s speaking to you for the first time, not through a comm line. 

Wait and he called you pretty! You were now fighting a blush creeping on your cheeks. But to the two aviators it looked like you were not amused 

“Stop bothering her Rooster, she obviously has places to be.” Phoenix chastises him.

“I apologize for my bothersome friend.” She turned to say to you. And all your pathetic shy ass can do is nod.

“See you around! And sorry again!” Rooster says once more as Lieutenant Trace pulls him away and down the hallway. 

———————————-—————————————

Okay, you were not doing this on purpose, well sorta. Sometimes in the midst of your constant daydreaming, your subconscious kinda just takes the reins and dictates your actions. 

Which is how you found yourself coincidentally choosing a work schedule that lined up the most perfectly with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s flying times.

You hoped for another conversation with Rooster, hoping to redeem yourself from your words (or rather lack thereof) during the hallway debacle.

 But the Lieutenant Commander seemed very focused on the exercise that they’ve been working on for the past week and has not been speaking to you as much as of late.

You were of course sad, and you felt a pit in your stomach grow larger and larger each passing day that your conversations started and ended with “you’re cleared for takeoff”.

You almost wish that your stupid infatuation would go away so that you didn’t feel yourself crushed at the end of every single work day. 

But you would catch a glimpse of his smile on the tarmac and your heart would fill with so much longing once again. 

It had been almost a week since your last true interaction with the aviator, you were beyond pathetic at this point. 

At last, he finally called in after he was in the sky. 

“Is the president of my fan club there?” He called into the comms. 

Was he talking about you? I mean who else would he be talking about considering the topic of your conversation last time. 

Unless he talks to all the ATCs like this, flirting with them until they become flustered and red as a tomato. He’s probably done this with Sara, or Laura or even both! The thought filled your stomach with dread. Should you stay silent and pretend you didn’t hear him? Or maybe he actually needs something, it would be unprofessional of you to not help your superior or maybe-

“I know you’re there, I can hear you thinking”  

Rooster has a habit of breaking you out of your anxiety induced thoughts.

“Are you calling for me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

You heard him clear his throat, expectant.

“Oh I’m sorry, Rooster.” You corrected yourself.

“That’s better” He said with a chuckle. 

“Sorry I’ve been radio silent the past week sweetheart, have had a lot on my mind.” 

“You don’t have to apologize to me! You’re one of the greatest pilots in the world, no need to worry about me.” You assured him, and maybe you were a bit self-deprecating but it was true. 

“No need for all of that ATC, I’m just a guy in a plane. And were friends, remember?  It’s not fair of me to leave you in the dark.” 

Damn. AND he's humble? How can this man be anymore perfect?

“ Thank you Rooster.” You replied with a small smile.

“Sorry again for going ghost, this is a bit of a hard week for me” He continued.

In any normal circumstance, asking for elaboration would seem like prying, but your conversations with the Lieutenant commander have been less than normal as of late. You still had no clue where you got the courage to ask.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Wanna know all my secrets already sweetheart?” 

He somehow managed to avoid the question AND make you flustered. He’s good.

“How about I let you know my stories over dinner?”

You just felt your heart jump out of your chest and into another dimension. There’s no way THE Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you out. 

This had to be some kind of game, one that he’s no doubt played a million times before. Rooster had no shortage of women who wanted him and the fact that he’s asking you out of all people was unbelievable. There was no way. 

“Um like a date?” You ask him nervously.

He chuckles at your response, amused at your edginess. But to you it sounded like the thunderclap before the lightning strike of rejection. 

You just wished he’d get on with it. Hoping he lets you down easy so you can move on from this crush and actually do your job.

“What else would I mean?” He finally responded.

Your entire body felt like a cracked glow stick. You felt bright and overheated, but also cold as ice as you’ve somehow lost feeling in your extremities.

So he was asking you out! You were determined to apologize for every time you’ve said God’s name in vain because if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you on a date, then there is no doubt that the higher power was real. 

But the reality of the situation had set in. If he was this quick to ask you out despite not knowing your name, or what you look like. What’s stopping him from changing his mind and moving on to the next ATC or bartender or crossing guard who gave him admiring attention just as quickly?

You came to a swift realization.

It was against your nature and your better judgment, as your heart was beating out the seams to say yes to Rooster’s invitation. But you had to be smart about this.

You had to play the game.

“I’m gonna have to say no sir.”  

You can feel the regret setting in already.

“Wow, I think that’s the first no I’ve gotten in…. That might be the first no I’ve ever gotten.”

Great, now you’ve bruised his ego, you had no idea if this tactic was working for or against you.

“Well, I think dinner might be a little further down the line, that’s if you think you can handle it?” You somehow gathered enough courage to (fake) confidently challenge Rooster.

“Oh is that so?” You can hear the intrigue in his voice through the line. 

“How about a phone number?” He offers amused

“Hmm… maybe THAT  I can agree with.” You responded matching his playful tone.

“In one condition.” 

“Oh yeah? And what is that sweetheart?” 

“Shoot down Maverick in the drill today.”

“Is that it? I can do that, easy.” There was the cockiness the top gun pilots were famous for.

“That’s funny, considering you haven’t been able to do it in the past 3 weeks.” You jested.

“Ouch, first you reject my invitation, and now you insult my skill? Way to kick a man while he’s already down sweetheart.” He grimaced playfully.

“Gotta give you some kind of challenge sir.” You couldn't hold back the giggle forming in your throat. 

“Okay deal, anything to hear that laugh again, outside of these comm lines.” He chuckled.

Oh shit. You completely forgot that you are flirting with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw though a military operated and very public comm line.

“I was wondering when the two of were going to remember the rest of us can hear EVERYTHING.” You heard the voice of Lieutenant Commander Seresin chortle.

You felt your ears burn red in embarrassment. 

“Getting rejected over comms Bradley? And here I thought you had game.” Captain Mitchell added. Both of them were laughing at their fellow aviator. 

“See what I mean sweetheart? I promise I’m a much better conversationalist when these assholes aren’t around.” Bradley insulted the other two pilots. 

“Don’t listen to him ATC, I’ve known him since he was still in diapers , and I promise you, this is as good as he’s gonna get.” Captain Mitchell remarked to you. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on him for you either.” He added jokingly. 

“Trust me Captain Mitchell, I’m counting on it.” You replied with equal fervor. Maverick responded with a playful tone.

“Sounds good ma’am, hope I don’t disappoint .”

“I’m going to get into position, You two can join me once Bradley is done with his disastrous flirting.” He added before going radio silent, lifting his jet to prepare for the dogfight. 

“Hypothetically, if I shoot down Mav, do I get your number?” Hangman teased. 

“Walk the walk first, and maybe I’ll consider it.” You quipped, but you knew that the only aviator you’d want to give your number to was Rooster. 

“Good enough for me.” Hangman replied. 

“Watch me beat you Rooster, in the drill and with the girl.” Hangman chuckled playfully before going radio silent, presumably getting into position.

“Double timing me with Hangman sweetheart? Now thats a killing blow.” Rooster smiled, slightly annoyed at your flirtatious exchange with Seresin but happy that it was just the two of you once again. 

“You know how bumptious Lieutenant Commander Seresin can be. I just said it to get rid of him.” You explained. 

“Now for you, I am completely serious. Shoot down Mav and you got yourself a phone number.”

“Yours right?” He asked.

You let out a hearty laugh, one that had caused the other ATC’s currently in the control tower to look at you with concerned expressions. 

“Yes. Mine.”

“You never know, you could very well give me Admiral Bates’ number. I just wanted to make sure.” He replied.

“Plus its always a bonus to hear you laugh.”

This man never seemed to run out of lines. You had to hold yourself back from melting into a puddle in your seat.

“Well lets see what you got then Lieutenant Commander.” Was the last thing you said as he finally went back up to position. 

As much as you wanted to stay tuned into the dogfight like you were a suburban dad cheering on their favorite football team, you did actually have a job to do. 

You were in the middle of analyzing flight patterns and putting together a presentation for your co-workers when you heard the sudden call on your headset.

“Hello, this is air traffic control.”

You were greeted with a loud thunderous cheer. 

“I did it ATC! I shot down Mav.” Rooster howled.

“Is this true Lieutenant Commander Seresin?” You asked Hangman.

“As much as I tried to sabotage him, yes Rooster did somehow managed to shoot down the old-timer.” Hangman confirmed with a groan.

Shit. Now you have to actually give your number to Rooster.

“Soooo ATC, I’m waiting for the magic numbers.” You could already see the victory smirk on his face. 

“Ughhh fine a deal is a deal. But I am not going to give out my private phone number on a monitored line. I’m just gonna have to get it to you another way.”

“Okay fair enough. How are you gonna do that?” Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw queried. 

“Don’t worry about it, just know you’ll get it.”

“Or you know you can just give it to me face to fa-.”

“Goodbye Rooster.” You interrupted and dropped the line before he could continue. 

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

You honestly did not know how you were going to get your number to Rooster. You wouldn’t dare to see him face to face. He’ll take one look at you and know that you were nothing special and he’d lose interest. The only reason he was this enthralled was because you were a mystery to him. 

You could always go back on your deal and tell him you were kidding about the number, but you knew that was an asshole move and you were not the type to break agreements. You had to figure out how to get that number to him without him seeing you. 

At least then you can speak to him and possibly flirt with him for a little longer before he inevitably loses interest..

You were sat in the comm tower, your head resting on the back of your hand, watching Rooster joke around with Mav and Hangman down in the tarmac beside their F-18s. Even from all the way up here you can see how bright his smile was. He was so beautiful. 

You were snapped out of your admiration by the three aviators walking off the tarmac, probably to rest and sit with the other pilots in the hangar. You saw your window of opportunity, in the form of (no pun intended) Rooster’s open canopy on his jet. 

If you could sneak down there and place a piece of paper with your number on his dash then you would have fulfilled your side of the deal. 

If anyone were to ask, you were not a stalker, you were just very observant, especially if you’ve been watching these pilots for the better part of the last few weeks and knew that they were going to spend at least the next 15 minutes in the hangar until they returned to the tarmac. You had to make your move NOW.

You scribbled your number onto a piece of discarded paper.

“I’m taking a 10!” You announced to the control room before running out clutching the note to your chest. 

You quickly ran down from the tower and quickly onto the tarmac, making sure to duck and turn your head away as you passed the hangar (just in case). 

You couldn’t remember the last time you ran this fast, probably not since basic training. You quickly manuevered around all the F-18s until you reached the one marked with the label LCDR Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”. You’ve never seen his jet this up close, you wanted desperately to run your hand through the marking of his name, to touch something that he has. 

No. You have to remember you’re here on a time-constrained mission, and you had to get out of here not only  before the pilots come out, but also before anyone in the comm tower can spot you down here. 

You quickly flung yourself up the ladder up to cockpit of the jet and trying to place the piece of paper as rapidly and as gently as you could on the dash. When you finally let go of the paper and saw that it was securely in place, you hopped off the tiny ass ladder and started to speed walk back to the direction of the comm tower. 

Your heart was beating a million times per minute and you did it without anyone seeing you. You could see the door to the tower in the distance, and were beelining towards it. That’s until you heard a clear 

“HEY!” Coming from behind you. 

You turned around and were greeted by the suspect face of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He was standing probably a good 25 feet away and slowly walking towards you.

“Who are you? What are doing down here?” 

You had to think of an excuse fast, with as little words spoken as possible. You couldn’t risk him recognizing your voice and telling Rooster. Then all of this would be over too soon. 

“Just routine inspection!” You tell him, making your voice higher and hopefully indiscernible from your normal speaking voice. 

“Goodbye!” You waved at him before sprinting away and around the tower so he couldn’t see that you were going into the comm room. 

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

As much as you'd like to think that you successfully made it down and back from the tarmac completely undetected, you knew that running into Hangman could’ve ended disastrously. You needed to learn to be more careful especially now that your number could possibly already be in Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s possession. Which means you have to commit to this game. 

You put your number in his plane almost 11 hours ago and even though the work day has long ended, and you knew that the pilots leave together at around 5pm and would inevitably end up at the Hard Deck for a few hours. 

However it is now nearing 11pm and you still had no notification from anyone other than your mom. No texts, no calls, just email alerts and a few instagram DMs from some old high school friends. 

You sighed as you stared at the clock. Maybe he didn’t see the paper? Or he’s still at the Hard Deck?

You knew neither was unlikely because the dagger squad flew out and ran a few more drills later in the day so was in his jet and all the Navy men (or rather the disciplined ones) promptly left the bar at 10pm to prepare for their early work days. 

He could’ve and should’ve contacted you by now.

But what did you really expect? That he was going to drop everything and call a random ATC that he had a few indecorous conversations with. 

You definitely let this fake confidence build up too much in your head. You had to remember your place. Because who are you other than just a girl, when he was one of the superstar’s of the Navy? The frontliner and the apple of all the admirals’ eyes. 

You see the clock flashing 11:15pm and you had a shift early in the morning. There was no use continuing to feel sorry for yourself. Some sleep would do you some good, and hopefully avoid the waterworks that would inevitably come.

You were well on your way to slipping into a deep slumber when you heard the loud text tone originating from your phone. 

Unknown Number: Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today sweetheart. I hope I get the chance soon. Sweet dreams :) 

——————-————————————————————————

There must have been some sickness barreling through the base because the normally filled comm room was empty except for you manning the main desk. 

Being solo wasn’t too bad, as there weren’t too many pilots scheduled to fly today.

Of course one of them being Rooster. 

“Miramar Tower, F/A-18E Super Hornet , 10 southwest at 2,500, inbound for landing “ 

Speak of the devil, and he shall come

“F/A-18E Super Hornet , Miramar Tower, report entering left downwind Runway 24R.” You responded, keeping yourself professional despite feeling the butterflies in your stomach beating your ass upon hearing his voice.

“Report entering left downwind, F/A-18E Super Hornet . . . . “ He responded before adding

“F/A-18E Super Hornet entering left downwind Runway 24R.”

He was all business today, with absolutely no hint of the usual playfulness in his voice. 

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, you are cleared to land Runway 24R.”

He let out a slight growl, one you would miss if you weren’t listening so intently.

He hesitated for a moment before finally responding. 

“Cleared to land Runway 24R, F/A-18E Super Hornet “ 

You saw his jet successfully land and reached for the button to disconnect when you heard Rooster’s voice flood your headphones once again.

“Do you remember what I said about calling me ‘Lieutenant Commander’ sweetheart?” He asks steely.

Fuck, he sounds so sexy when he’s stern. No man’s voice has ever had this effect on you. 

“Yes sir, Rooster.” You said with a longing breath.

You curse yourself for being incapable of being subtle.

“Normally I would say no ‘sir’ just ‘Rooster’, but I’ll allow it. Only because it sounds so good coming from your mouth.”

Holy shit. And you thought you weren’t subtle, you were usually clueless when it came to men flirting but even you could read that loud and clear. 

“You sure you want to be hitting on me over comms SIR?” you said purring 

“Would you rather me come up there sweetheart? So I can do it face-to-face” He said with the same gruffness. You can see him glancing up to the tower as he lifted his canopy and exited his plane.

“I dare you Lieutenant Commander.” You replied matching his salacious tone. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson don’t I?.” The connection cuts off as he removes his helmet and rushes up to the tower. 

You couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your pounding heartbeat, there is no way you just invited Rooster up to the comm room. 

It couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes when you heard the door burst open and saw Rooster enter, his skin still glistening from sweating under the California sun. 

He looked like a Greek god, and you had to stop your jaw from physically dropping at the sight of him. 

“Finally done hiding from me sweetheart?” He greeted you teasingly. 

You slowly approached one another. You opened your mouth to respond with a flirty response but the words seemed to be stuck in your throat. 

You didn’t even notice how close you were to him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. You were staring straight ahead and avoiding his gaze. Choosing to maintain eye contact with the lowered zipper of his flight suit. Giving you a glimpse of the hard planes of his chest underneath. 

Your breath hitched as you felt him grab you by the waist and pull you bodies together. His hands felt so hot on your body and you still couldn’t bring yourself to look up into his gaze.

That is until he placed a hand on your chin and gently pulled it up to look into your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re all shy now sweetheart?” He said with a smirk and he tugged your bodies closer. 

“Where’s all that talk from earlier?” He whispered as he kissed the skin beneath your ear, before moving his lips to your jaw and leaving soft caressing kisses trailing down your jaw, down to where your neck meets your collarbone

Okay, you have definitely lost the ability to breathe, let alone to speak several moments ago. If he wasn’t currently holding you so tightly your legs would’ve given out from under you.

All you could feel was him and all your mind can think of is Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. 

He finally brought his head back up and stared at your lips. He licked his before he finally closed the distance between you and-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

You woke up in your bed in a cold sweat. 

Holy shit, it was just a dream. It felt so real. 

You could’ve sworn you could still feel his hand gripping on your waist and his hot breath on your ear. 

You glanced at your alarm clock to see that you overslept by 30 minutes! 

You quickly got up and got ready, you swear to God you had never gotten ready faster in your life. But you still managed to be 15 minutes late. 

Your supervisor was not happy. But you were normally punctual so they allowed you this one oversight. As long as you swore to never repeat it again. 

You finally caught your breath and settled in your station. You were relieved that you didn’t miss too much. 

But since you were late Rooster was assigned to a different ATC on his flight plan for the day. 

This did make you sad but in a way maybe it was necessary for today. 

First because you could not possibly hold a conversation with him after the erotic dream that you still hadn't physically recovered from, and second because you were actually becoming pathetic.

You had set 4 simple rules for yourself when you joined the Navy

Stay Focused

Always be punctual

Sleep early to be well rested, and most importantly

Do not get involved with Navy men. 

You somehow managed to break all rules in the last few weeks. 

You had a wet dream that caused you to break your perfect punctuality streak. A dream that was about a certain pilot that caused you to stay up late and has spent the better part of a month distracting you.

For the lack of better phrasing, you really needed to get your shit together.

But when you stepped into the mess hall after a fairly productive half of a day, and saw his face, you remembered just why you were so enamored. 

A smile from him was worth breaking the rules you set for yourself. 

——————————————————————————————-

You were probably home for less than 10 minutes when you heard the text notification coming from the living room.

You wiped your hands on a dish rag and walked out of the kitchen to grab your phone, which you almost dropped upon seeing who the text came from. 

The text last night was completely unexpected and was definitely part of the reason why Rooster somehow made it into your dream. And even though you were half asleep at the time, you managed to save his number under “Rooster ✈️🐔”. 

Which is how you knew you were staring at a text from said aviator. 

Rooster ✈️🐔: Missed you today :(

You have been carefully analyzing the text for the last 30 seconds you laid eyes on it. He missed you??? What does that mean? He had your number for the better part of two days and he only managed to contact you when you were almost asleep, and after a day of ignoring him. 

Asking him what he meant would be too obvious and would make you come out as naïve. So you did what any rational woman with a crush would do. Deflect.

You: Do you have a problem with emojis or something?

Rooster ✈️🐔: Huh? What do you mean? 

You: I can’t remember the last time I saw someone use emoticons unironically. 

Rooster ✈️🐔: Are you making fun of me? I personally think emoticons are neat

Rooster ✈️🐔: And I don’t know how to download emojis :/

You felt like a schoolgirl as you felt your face break into a grin at his antics. 

You were formulating a reply when you were interrupted by the screen indicating an incoming call from Rooster ✈️🐔.

You stared at your phone in panic and let it continue to ring. Holy shit he was calling you. At least in text you can formulate a plan and have a carefully crafted response. You did not have that luxury with a voice call. 

But what are you going to do? Ignore it? 

You had to make a decision fast. Okay yes, it will be a little more nerve wracking to speak on a voice call but that's better than nothing right? And you spoke to him all the time over comms, even though technically it is different because those conversations can be hidden under the guise of carrying out your job and you did not have that safety net in this situation.

After a few seconds you thought “Fuck it” and pressed the green button. 

“Hi” You answered with a breath. 

“Oh thank god, you actually answered” He responded, teasing relief in his voice.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t?” You asked him as if it was the most outlandish thing in the world (even you were seriously debating it less than a minute ago). 

“Well lets look at the track record, you rejected my dinner invite, doubted my skill as a world class pilot, left me on read last night, and just made fun of my emoticons.”

“The signs were all pointing there.” 

You bursted out in laughter at his rantings.

“Wow! And now you’re laughing at my misery, a man just can’t win with you can they sweetheart?” He feigned hurt. 

“I’m sorry Lieutenant Commander, I didn’t realize it was so easy to hurt your feelings.” You teased him. 

“AND were back to Lieutenant Commander? You do not pull your punches, do you?”

“I’d like to think we’re past all those formalities, outside of work please call me Rooster, or rather yet, call me Bradley.” He asserted. 

“Sometimes I forget your full god given name is Bradley Bradshaw. Brad Brad. I’m making that your name on my phone” You continued to tease with a giggle.

“Did your parents know what they were subjecting you to?” 

“Ha Ha very funny, unfortunately they were the main ones who made the Brad Brad joke.” He admitted dejected. 

This caused you to laugh again.

“Hey this is not fair! I don’t even know your name to make fun of.” You could practically hear the pout in his voice.

“You know I’m gonna find out your name eventually sweetheart, so why don’t you just give it up now?”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You wanted to finally tell him your name, you did. But that just opens a can of worms that would lead to reality, which you were not yet ready to face.

“I can’t call you ATC forever sweetheart..”

“Well.. what do you want to call me?” 

“Preferably your name?” He suggested.

“You only get one chance to choose so try again.” You warned. 

“And make it good”

“Okay fine I’ll bite.” He finally gave in.

“Lets see, what to call you….”

“Well you laugh a lot, and most of the time at me, so I think I want to use something related to that.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to make fun of.” You quipped.

“Fair enough. Just know I only let you because I actually like the sound of your laugh.”

You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks again.

“Clock is ticking, and you’re wasting your time flirting. What is it gonna be?” You goaded him.

“Okay Okay, but don’t think I won’t continue later.”

“I have no doubt about it” 

“So something pertaining laughing…hmmm. Giggles?” 

“If you call me Giggles, I’m hanging up and blocking you.” You threaten him. 

He responded with his own laugh, and god if you didn’t love his as much as he claimed to like yours.

“Chuckles?”

“I prefered Giggles.” You grimaced

“Merry?” 

“Too Christmas-y”

“Chirpy?”

“That sounds like a name for a bird or something you’d call your grandma. How are you so bad at this?”

“I’m trying!”

“Try to pick something better than all of those please, and do it in the next 30 seconds or I revoke your naming permissions.”

“Fine…Okay! I got it!”

“Cloud!” 

“Cloud?” You asked

“Yes! Like flying on Cloud 9!”

His selection brought a smile to your face. You pretended to think on it.

“It’s acceptable.”

“Yes!” 

“See? I’m not completely useless, and it fits because I’m flying on Cloud 9 whenever I know you’re my ATC.”

His admission caused your breath to catch in your throat. He really did know how to make a girl feel special, even though you knew you had no actual chance with him in the real world.

“I bet you say that to all the ATCs.”

“Well they are responsible for making sure that I don’t crash into other planes on the runway. Gotta keep them happy somehow”

You laugh at his joke, but holding some sadness because even though he was joking, in a way it felt like it held some truth. 

“But seriously, you have no idea how much joy you brought me yesterday. Both with our conversation and seeing that you actually gave me your number. Which is why I was really sad that you weren’t my ATC today.” 

He sounded sincere, but you tried to keep yourself from taking his lines to heart. 

You smiled. 

“Speaking of your number, how the hell did you get that piece of paper into my dash?”

“There was no one else I saw near my jet except my squad and they were with me the entire time. When did you manage to do it?”

“A girl doesn’t reveal her secrets Rooster.” You jested

“Speaking of secrets, pray tell why it took you over twelve hours to use it?” You asked him, you had to know.

“Yeah, sorry about that late text sweetheart… I stayed out at the Hard Deck with Mav a little later than usual. It was my dad’s death anniversary and I honestly spent most of the day sulking and dreading leaving my apartment.”

“Oh.. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You responded sympathetically, now feeling guilty at asking such an intrusive question. 

“No worries sweetheart, the minute I heard your voice on comms, it brightened my day, even more so when you gave me your number.”

“So thank you for the boost and the motivation to finally kick Mav’s ass in the sky.”

Your heart felt warm hearing that you had that effect on him, you woul’ve believed his words if you didn’t know better.

“You’re welcome Bradley.” You finally called him by his real first name, admittedly it felt right coming from your mouth.

You both sat in comfortable silence when you were interrupted by the smoke alarm in your kitchen. It hit you that your dinner was left on the stove forgetten during your conversation with Bradley.

“Oh shit, I’m pretty sure I just burnt my dinner. I gotta go before I set my entire apartment on fire.”

Bradley chuckled at your unintentional lapse of memory.

“Okay sweetheart I’ll talk to you soon.”

You ended the call. 

You managed to clear out the smoke out of your apartment, but unfortunately did not save your chicken. 

You had to settle for a frozen hot pocket that had been in your freezer for God know how long, but hey it did the job and beggars can’t be choosers. 

You felt the tiredness from the busy workday hit you and you decided it was a good idea to turn in early. You showered and finished your nighttime routine and settled into your bed with your phone on your nightstand.

Your phone flashed once again to signal a text. Apparently, Rooster had the same idea about an early night. 

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Goodnight Cloud <3 I’ll talk to you tomorrow

You: Goodnight Bradley :)

——————————————————————————————-

You were honestly pleasantly surprised at how consistently you and Bradley communicated. 

It followed the same schedule. During the days, you were usually his ATC so he would of course flirt with you over comms, and you’d try to maintain come decorum of professionalism, but would eventually flirt black. Persistence is key and Bradley is nothing if not persistent. 

When he wasn’t in the air during work hours he would sneakily text you his little random thoughts he had during the day. 

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Have you ever noticed how small Hangman’s mouth is?

You: What?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No seriously look at it. His mouth is always scrunched up even when he smiles.

You: Why are you staring at Hangman’s mouth?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: We’ve been stuck in this meeting and he keeps chewing that stupid toothpick, its distracting.

You: Didn’t realize you had a thing for Seresin, Brad Brad? 🤔

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: ???????

You: You just said his mouth is distracting

You: Its okay Rooster, just say you wanna kiss him, the tension between you is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I don’t want to kiss Hangman >:( 

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You wanna know who I do wanna kiss though? 

You: Let me guess…..

You: Bob! 

You: Or better yet, Cyclone 🤪

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No :(((

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I wanna kiss you

You: Let’s Play 8 Ball!

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ha ha you’re hilarious

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: If I beat you then can I get a kiss?

Read 2:13pm

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ouch :(

On weekday nights where he didn’t go to the Hard Deck, you would have your nightly phone call at 7:30pm sharp where you would both stay on the phone while you both cooked dinner. You would catch up on the little things during the day that you didn’t text about and just mostly got to know one another.

You can admit that yes, what initially drew you to Rooster was his beautiful smile and his skill as a pilot. But the more you spoke to him the more you saw not just Lieutenant Commander “Rooster” Bradshaw. But you also saw Bradley.

You quickly saw that he was kind, humble, and so caring of others. 

“Hey Cloud,  I’m sorry for calling you so late.” You noticed his tone was more solemn than usual and checked the time, it was nearing 8pm.

“It’s fine Bradley, you’re not that late.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Payback and Fanboy flew into a jetwash today….”

“They had to eject.” He answered dejectedly

“I heard about that. Are they okay?”

 Laura told you about the incident a little earlier, she was the ATC for the flight. The ear-splitting static that hit her headset after the aircraft collided with the ground was enough to shake even the most experienced ATC. So you couldn’t imagine being the pilot and the WSO in that situation. 

“They’re at the hospital overnight for observation. I stuck around to make sure they were okay.” 

It was very strange for you to hear Rooster so despondent. You knew he cared about his friends, and he would do anything for them, but it felt like there was more to the situation. 

“You’re very thoughtful for that Bradley.. I’m sure they appreciated it”

“It was my fault, Cloud.” he confessed. 

You were taken aback at his admittance, but you would’ve heard if there was someone that was directly responsible for the accident, it involved aircraft worth millions of dollars after all. 

“They flew into my jetwash.” 

“Bradley, that wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have controlled their flight path.” You tried to reassure him.

“But I shouldn’t have been so reckless!” He exclaimed. 

“If I wasn’t so busy trying to outdo Coyote, I wouldn’t have almost hit a bird strike and had to slow down, and they wouldn't have gotten caught in the wash.”

You didn’t want to tell him he was being irrational for blaming himself for a situation that was clearly out of his hands, you knew there was something more there. 

“But they’re fine right? Everyone is okay. No one was seriously hurt.” You explained to him.

“Yeah no one got hurt….THIS time.” 

His statement piqued your interest, you were getting somewhere.

“What do you mean?” 

He sighed, finally letting go of the pretenses. 

“That’s how my dad died.” He confessed.

In a way you knew about LTJG Nick Bradshaw and his untimely death during his Top Gun training, but none of the sordid details. It felt disrespectful to dig into Rooster’s family without him knowing. 

“Oh..” You couldn’t think of what to say. 

“He and Mav flew into a jetwash and when they ejected…my dad hit his head on the canopy. Dead on impact.”

You kicked yourself for thinking he was being irrational. Now all his self blame and his aversion to throwing caution to the wind while flying finally made sense. It also made his relationship with Maverick a lot clearer to you. 

On one hand, you were thrilled that he was confiding in you. But on the other hand you were also heartbroken for Bradley, he lost his dad so young and as much as you wanted to hug him, and let him cry on your shoulder, you couldn’t. 

“Were you close?” You settled on asking him. 

“We were, he’s the reason why I worked so hard to be where I am now.” He reminisced. 

“I’m sure he is very proud of you Bradley. You are not only an incredible pilot, you are also an selfless, caring, and incredible man.” You reminded him. 

“He would give all the credit to my mom.” He lightly chuckled. 

“She raised me alone after my dad died.”

“She never remarried?” You asked

“No, she said that dad was her soulmate. She would never find another man like him.”

You can tell how much love Bradley had for his parents, and the love they shared for one another. 

“It sounds like they were really in love.” You smiled 

“They were. My dad would always serenade my mom. He loved the 50s and the 60s so everytime he saw a piano he would wail out ‘Great Balls of Fire’ while my mom would act embarrassed, but she would eventually sit on his lap and sing along.” 

“That’s beautiful Brad, they really were soulmates.”

“I hope I can find a love like theirs someday.” You sighed dreamily. 

“Who knows? Maybe you already have.” He responds softly.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a few moments. 

“Hey Cloud”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime Bradley.”

You noticed that it was now getting late and exhaustion was starting to take over your body.

Bradley seemed to notice this as well.

“Do you think I can sing to you Cloud? Like my dad used to with my mom?” 

“I would love that Brad.” 

You slowly fell asleep to the sound of his voice singing ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’.

And like that, there was no denying, that you’re falling even deeper.

——————————————————————————————-

You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up. It has been months since you and Rooster started talking regularly and you couldn’t help falling in love with him a little more everyday. 

The problem is, you knew that his patience was wearing thin, as he was asking you more and more frequently when he can see you face to face or even know your real name.

You knew you owe him all of that, but how could you tell him? When you know in your heart that once he sees you and knows you. He would know you weren’t worth his time. 

That realization kills you because he means everything to you. You’ve shared your hobbies, your stories, your dreams with him. 

How can you go on living without him in your life once you know the feeling of him being there. 

He has planted himself a permanent spot in your heart, and once he’s gone, there will be a gaping hole left in his wake. 

He was being as kind and as patient with you as he could, but you couldn’t blame his growing anxiety about your identity. 

It also didn’t help that you were constantly under the scrutinous eyes of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. After he caught you on the Tarmac, he seemed very suspicious of you. Like he knew you were up to something but just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Luckily you’ve been able to fly under the radar around him. Yes he could be a little ignorant and too much of a flirt for his own good but he was smart as a whip and you knew that if anyone could figure out what you were doing it would be him. 

You were currently sat with ATCs in the mess hall, on the other side of the room from where the dagger squad has decided to congregate. You were trying to subtly sneak glances at Bradley. 

He looked particularly handsome today, his sandy hair was slicked back and his tanned skin glowing. He even had his signature Ray Ban Caravans on. You normally hate when people wear sunglasses indoors but he made it work without looking like an asshole. And it looks damn good on him. 

You sighed and as you moved your focus away to not arouse suspicion you noticed Hangman look at you with narrowed eyes. You pretended not to notice. 

Your attention was diverted by the vibration of you phone signaling a notification. 

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Is potato salad supposed to be green?

You smiled when you saw it was a text from Bradley

You: Depends, do you normally eat 2 week old potato salad?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Mav said it was okay :(

You: Mav also thinks anything not cooked in a microwave is gourmet.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Okay fair, its going into the trash. 

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You know what is gourmet though? ;)

You: Mav

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Not funny :(

You tried to hold in your laughter to no avail and it was loud enough for the other ATC s to look at you in confusion. 

“Sorry, just saw a funny meme.” You explained, the ATCs accepted this explanation and went back to their previous activities. 

You looked up again to catch another glimpse at Rooster when you saw Hangman staring at your phone in your hand with wide eyes. Then looked down at Rooster also smiling down at his own phone, and then back at you. 

You could see the wheels in his head turning, and then he made a face that made it clear that he connected the dots. 

Oh shit. You had to get out of here.

You quickly packed up your food and sat up, not bothering to say goodbye to your fellow ATCs. 

You ran out the mess hall and down the hallway but before you could turn the corner a hand pulls you back. 

You are now face to face with Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He looked at you for a few seconds 

“You’re Air Traffic Control right?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes sir I am.” You said trying to disguise your voice the same as you did on the tarmac. 

“Don’t play games with me honey, I know that’s not your real voice.” You gulped 

He still had a grip on your arm so you couldn’t run even if you wanted to. Curse these Navy men and their workout routines. 

“Tell me your name, and that’s an order.” 

You were sweating under his gaze, you’ve never felt more panicked in your life.

You tell him your name in your real voice. 

He finally released his grip on you and also seemed to drop his serious demeanor. 

“I knew there was something about you! You’re the ATC that old chicken has been flirting with over comms aren’t you??”

You nod looking down at your feet. Damn it, there goes your whole relationship (if you can even call it that) with Rooster, because Hangman is definitely going to rat you out. 

“You see, Rooster was telling the squad that he was in love. And so of course we ask him who she is.” 

“But how surprising was it when he said that not only has he never seen her face to face, he doesn’t even know her name.” 

He was now pacing up and down the hallway. 

“Then I remembered that day where he bet you your number if he shot down Mav, he magically got a piece of paper with a number on his dash seemingly coming from nowhere.” 

“But it wasn’t a magic trick at all, was it?” He asked you rhetorically.

“No sir.”

“Exactly! Because I caught you sneaking off the Tarmac moments before Rooster jumped into his plane and happily announcing that he got your phone number.” 

“I saw your face, so you are both the ATC over comms and the girl he talks to,  the one he says he’s in love with.”

You looked up shocked at his statement.

“He’s in love with me?” 

You looked up from the ground with hopeful eyes. 

“Yes he is.” Hangman tells you matter of factly. 

“You’ve presumably been talking to Rooster for months, but you've yet to meet him in person, let alone even tell him your name.”

“What game are you playing here?” He asks you

“It’s not a game, I do care about Bradley.” You sighed. 

“So then what is it?” 

“Sir, can we not please talk about it here?” 

You anxiously look around and see that people were now in the hallway exiting from the mess hall. And god forbid that Bradley was one of them. 

“Fine.” 

“Meet me at the Hard Deck after work.” 

——————————————————————————————-

 You were seated at the bar in the Hard Deck, your left leg bouncing anxiously.

You checked your watch, 5:47pm. Hangman said to meet him here right after work and you basically sped off the base to get to the bar on time.

You’ve been nursing the same beer for the past almost 30 minutes. You couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

What was taking him so long? Did he forget? Did he already tell Bradley?

A million more questions swirled in your head. But you knew that if Hangman didn’t show up you were basically screwed.

Your self pity was interrupted by the booming sound of naval aviators strolling through the entrance, with one of them being Bradley and of course Hangman.

You were simultaneously trying to avoid Rooster’s gaze, while trying to catch Hangman’s attention.

When you finally caught his eye, you gave him a panicked questioning look. He gave you a subtle nod while continuing his conversation with the rest of the squadron. 

The crew made their way to their usual spot in the back with the pool tables. Hangman excused himself from the group nodding towards you.

You kept your eyes on him as he made his way to you. 

“Jimmy, can I get a beer?” Hangman asks the bartender.

“Lieutenant Commander.” You greeted him as he sat on the stool directly beside you.

He returned the greeting by saying your name.

“So let’s just get this out of the way. Did you tell Bradley?” You asked him, feeling a large brick settle in your stomach. 

“You can relax.. I didn’t tell Bradshaw.” He replies

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooding your body.

“But don’t think that you’re off the hook, you have some explaining to do.” Hangman added.

“What do you want to know sir?” You swallowed nervously.

“First of all, who are you exactly?” 

“I’m no one, I’m just an ATC.” You told him, looking down at your hands.

“Well you’re clearly not ‘no one’ if you’ve caught Rooster’s attention.” He rebutted.

“You’re little avoidance tricks might work on Rooster, but they won’t work on me.”

“And I know all your excuses for not meeting him are complete bs.”

“So why are you hiding from him?”

Now that’s the million dollar question isn’t it? It has been months since you started talking to Bradley, you spoke to him every single day, and fell asleep to the sound of his voice every night. Why were you hiding from him?

“I-.....I don’t know.” You confessed to Hangman. 

“Then whats stopping me from getting up and telling Rooster who you are?” Hangman asked you with a raised eyebrow. 

You stared at him, the words lost in your throat. 

“Nothing then I guess..”  He got up and started his way to the back.

You pulled his arm back similar to how he did to you earlier that day. He looked at you and your hand on his arm. 

“Please don’t…I beg you.” 

He sat back down on his stool giving you a questioning look but gave you the time to get your thoughts together. 

“I never intended for it to go on this long or this far..” You explained. 

“Bradley is so important to me. I knew he was special the first time I ever heard his voice.”

“It was during the uranium plant detachment from a few months ago. I risked my whole damn career to save him.” 

“I released the dagger reserve without Admiral Simpson’s approval.” You continued.

“That was you? You gave me clearance that day?” His eyes finally lost the skepticism and was replaced with admiration. 

“I did, everyone in that control room was completely frozen. I couldn’t just let them die.” 

“But that doesn’t explain this whole situation you have going on with him.” He questioned

“That was the last I expected to ever see of him, but you all decided to stay here in Miramar and I made the mistake of speaking to him a little too long over comms.”

“That’s to be expected honey, Rooster is a big ol flirt.” Hangman chuckled.

“Well not as a big of a flirt as me though.” He winked at you. 

He was trying to ease your worries and you appreciated that from him. Especially since he thought the worst of you less than 10 minutes ago. 

“And of course you and Mav have heard how he got my number over comms and thats currently where we are now.” You finished.

“Okay so thats the backstory, and you clearly care about him and he cares about you.”

“So it still doesn't answer why you haven’t told him who you are.”

“Think about it this way Lieutenant Commander…”

“You, Phoenix, Payback, Coyote, and Rooster. You are some of the most important and most revered people in the Navy short of the Admirals.” 

“You are the first in command, you are the best of the best in the entire world.” 

“What do I? A low level ATC, have to offer Bradley?.”

“I am just me, and he is who he is. I could never be a person whos good enough for him.” 

“But didn’t I just tell you? Bradshaw is in love with you.” Hangman argued. 

You smiled sadly, turning your head to glance at Bradley at the pool tables. His head thrown back in laughter at something Fanboy said. 

“Maybe..he is.” You turned back to Hangman.

“But one look at me and he’ll change his mind.” 

“I don’t understand. Do you think you’re-” Hangman’s response was interrupted by Rooster popping up behind you both. 

“Hangman, I thought you were getting a beer?” 

You suddenly felt lightheaded, the sight of Rooster standing so close to you making your heart beat a million times per minute. 

“Whos your friend?” Rooster asked Hangman while looking at you with a smile. 

You wouldn’t dare open your mouth and speak, risking Bradley recognizing your voice. You stared at Hangman with pleading eyes, hoping he didn’t give you away to Rooster.

Hangman looked at Rooster and back at you, pausing for a moment.

Hangman finally speaks telling Rooster your name. Fuck. You were naïve to think he’d keep your secret.

“We actually just met, she’s getting over a case of laryngitis so her voice is a little hoarse.” Hangman explained. 

You smiled at him, silently thanking him for not revealing your charade. 

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You let out in a hoarse voice, turning to look at Bradley.

He reached out and shook your hand and you can feel your stomach doing backflips for finally getting to touch the man that you’ve spent several months falling in love with. 

“Well I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, I hope you feel better.” Bradley offered politely.

“I’ll leave you and Hangman to your conversation.” He excused himself and returned to the pool table, you stared at him longingly as he walked away. 

Hangman looked at you in amusement. 

“You got it bad, don’t you honey?” Hangman asked with a slight chuckle. 

“That obvious?” You asked him

“Couldn’t be any less subtle if you tried.” 

“Which makes it so funny that Bradshaw had no clue its you.” He chortled. 

“Me personally, if I were him, I would know it was you the minute I saw you.” He added with a smirk,

Leave it to Hangman to be an insatiable flirt.

“Thank you for helping me out.” 

As big of an asshole Hangman can be, he really did have a good heart. 

“Your secret is safe with me honey.” 

——————————————————————————————-

@luckyladycreator2

@lunamoonbby

@n3ssm0nique

@and-claudia

@marrianena

@hummusxx

@writeroutoftime

@abrielleholland

@eroda-harry

@maxi-milf-dot-com

@jake-h-ngm-n-seresin

@8oopsiedaisy8

@dempy

@playswithsquirrellls

@bayisdying

@mysticaldonkey

@zzazzao

@arianna-bradshaw

@pinkwritingdoll

@xattislc

@calsjack

@1bakubabe

@paulina1998

@peaches-1999

@sopheeg

@cowboybarbie

@marvelsvalhalla

@bethebella

@bespinnn

@manwalaage

@sweet-creature98

@8lyme

@ashann7

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@maudeeloise

@ambearsstuff

@parker-natasha

@wishingwell-2

@my-soulmate-is-mycroft

@carolinecakes  

@angzls

@saintnourah

@ebonyhogan24

@taytay3212

@fangirl-316

@babyspiderling

@iangiemae

@yogabigooby

@gracie145

@choslover

@maudeeloise

@cursedandromedablack

@marland56

@ynbutbetter

@turningtoclown

@dilfsandtherapy

@strawberryblogg

@unluckymonaghan

@queeniesdiary

@emilyniamh369-blog

@shaded-recs

@romxnticist

@Iyv127

@xoxoloverb

@marchingicenotes7

@supernaturaldawning

#rooster top gun #rooster imagine #rooster angst #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster #hangman #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin #Top gun #top gum maverick #top gun one shot

[tsunochizu]

Hiii I’ve never done an ask game before (new to tumblr) so idk how these work but what about 11? What would you change about the source material if you could?

I would definitely change gameplay itself to include a better ecosystem lmao

Like rn it technically works for gameplay but I would definitely edit it a LOT if I had the power

There's many small things that irritate me just a little, which are mostly:

The massive amount of predators with very little prey when it comes to the Rainworld ecosystem

Random lizards everywhere, even in places without much food at all or in places where they fall off platforms on their own without any help every. Single. Time. Why do they keep coming back there? Like I get that the cycle brings them back, but if I kept dying in an area, I would move out, idk

There's always like 20 lizards in the area, but usually like 3 or 4 squidcadas and maybe 2 centipedes. What are those lizards eating? How is there still so many of them?

Usually there's little carnivores and plenty of herbivores, with only exceptions being when it's a pack of carnivores that take down massive prey and then feed off of that for a while, but still

Also it just doesn't feel good to play in plenty of places tbh

Like the longer you play, the more you realize that in most campaigns other than survivor (survivor actually feels like how surviving in a hostile ecosystem is meant to work. Spearmaster feels like "let me throw 5000 lizards at you for difficulty lol") the lizards are put there just to add additional fake difficulty and make stuff just annoying

Monk and Survivor don't suffer from that issue. Other slugcats however, mostly the downpour ones? ....a little bit yeah.

Also I hate how the approach of "most things likely want to eat you so stab everything you come across" is correct most of the time

So if I could, I would add plenty of neutral creatures to the game, to force you to actually learn what is neutral and not a threat and interact with things with cautious curiosity from the start rather than being hostile and only getting in trouble for doing so when it comes to scavengers and noodleflies and nothing else

But idk its a small thing that has been annoying me for a long while already, and the game is still great! It has wonderful art and messages and feels really good to play in most places, and I enjoy the story a whole lot!

I just wish more creatures were neutral.

I have so many ideas for fun interactions with neutral creatures (large beetles you can hide under, parrots that are neutral until you hurt them and then scream if you attack them, luring in predators, seals with glowing orbs on heads that are neutral but you can try to take the lantern if you don't mind being hunted, stinkbugs that let out clouds of chemicals if you hit them, etc.) And its a shame that it's not used more in rw

Squidcadas are fun, scavengers are fun, give me more of that please. Not everrything needs to be hostile every time.

Of course it is only my opinion, and the game is still one of my absolute favourites, it's just that one thing that I woud change if I could. I hope to learn modding to one day bring my creature ideas to life (or commission someone else to code them) so that I could experience the ecosystem I wish I could

And ofc if you disagree, good for you, there's many reasons why I can see you could disagree, that's just my personal opinion on what would be fun for the game. (人 •͈ᴗ•͈) nothing more than random thoughts

#ask answer

[johnnysuhbmarine]

What if it's not the Alcohol Talking?

Pairing: Jake Sim x reader Description: Another party, another night where !best friend Jake comes to your rescue, or at least, gets you home safe. The problem lies in the fact that you haven’t felt normal best-friend-feelings about Jake in a long time, and you might’ve had just enough liquid courage this time around to do something about it…though who knows if you’ll even remember by morning. Content warnings: mentions/consumption of alcohol, mentions/act of throwing up though it’s not described in basically any detail because I can’t even handle that, Jake calls y/n “angel” and dhfusdifhdjkfh, Jake sings at his church but that’s about as religious as this thing gets. Word count: 3,715 A/n: Okay, I wasn’t expecting people to actually read my writing, much less LIKE it, but go off I guess B) I've edited and re-edited this and can't figure out how to make it better so...here's this. I hope you all are doing well - I’m rooting for you, at least, so there’s that. Anyways, here’s one more one shot before university starts to get the better of me. Please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do. As always, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

Your blurry world immediately finds focus when you see your best friend walk through the front door of the frat house you were currently at. It was a Saturday night party at Beta Theta Pi, and while sorority life itself was not your thing, you had enough friends involved to get you into the parties, which you took full advantage of. 

On the other hand, your best friend, Jake Sim, was a complete homebody. He didn’t mind an occasional wine night with you - the two of you scouring every shelf in the store for bottles of Pinot Noir so you could compare them to each other and eventually find the perfect bottle to drink for the rest of your lives. However, parties were way out of his comfort zone, and you cared about him too much to try and push that agenda on him. Besides, you didn’t know what you would do if Jake became a party person like this. You didn’t ever want him to change, not when his juxtaposed gentle presence at the entrance of the frat, only there so he could drive you home, provided you with such warmth that the snow currently outside seemed to be impossible. 

You had a massive crush on Jake Sim, and you also had a massive amount of alcohol in your system. 

Jake stood there shyly at the front entryway, the tension leaving his body once his gaze found your presence. You were standing and talking to strangers in the kitchen, though your eyes were trained on Jake from the moment he walked in, sure your face was lit up in response. Jake let out a small sigh before making his way through all the drunk dancers and couples with no sense of privacy so that he could get to you. 

“Hey, n/n.” He says once he’s beside you, paying no attention to the people you were originally talking with as he gazed at you softly. You immediately break from the conversation you were having so you could respond.

“Hi, Jake.” You slur through a bright smile, causing him to let out a small chuckle. He tilted his head to the side, a habit he always had no matter where he was. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, though he knows the answer. He wouldn’t be here if you weren’t ready. He always stayed up waiting for your texts saying that you wanted to be picked up, and then he would come swing by and grab you so you could get home safe. If he minded being your personal chauffeur back from parties, he never gave any signs, so it was a pattern the two of you had since you met in freshman year. 

You nod your head excitedly, but then your world starts to spin and you have to scrunch your eyes shut, holding out a hand blindly to try and stabilize yourself with Jake’s forearm. He gently covers your hand on his arm with his own, sending peace through your body. “You had a lot to drink tonight, yeah?” He asks, not the least bit accusatory but with genuine curiosity instead. You peek an eye open to see his face, a smile covering your own again as you do.

“Maybe.” You reply as your smile turns into a playful smirk, Jake’s own grin widening at your behavior. 

He nods his head in the direction of the exit. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He says lightly as he starts making his way towards the door, still firmly holding your hand on his arm so he knew you were still with him. 

Jake helped you into the passenger seat of his car, buckling your seatbelt for you with focus, trying not to accidentally touch you and make you uncomfortable. The two of you weren’t strangers to physical contact with each other; basically all of your interactions started and ended with bear hugs, but Jake always tried his best to not initiate physical contact whenever you had been drinking…cause he was perfect. 

When he finally walked around to the other side and fastened himself in the driver’s seat, you got your first solid look at him that wasn’t clouded with the dizziness that came with standing up. He was still in jeans and his long-sleeve blue and white striped polo. His fluffy black hair had a slight curl to it, middle parted as the ends fell over the outside corners of his eyes, which were covered by his nerdy glasses that you absolutely adored. It was hard to ever say Jake wasn’t attractive, but something about him in glasses made him look so cozy and boyfriend-like that it quickly became one of your favorite looks on him. 

“You’re so perfect.” You blurt out without thinking. Jake was still waiting for the car to warm up some before he started driving, and you figure that was probably the luckiest it could have played out because Jake rendered still. The initial shock from your statement caused him to jerk back slightly, eyes widening before he completely froze, and you think you surely would have caused a wreck if he was already on the road. 

Your perception of time is surely skewed, but Jake only seemed to be flustered for a millisecond before he let out a small laugh and turned your way with a playful smile and sincere eyes. “You’re drunk.” He states plainly, and you think your face falls into a pout before your previously consumed liquid courage continues doing its job.

“Yeah, but you’re perfect even when I’m sober.” You reiterate with genuinity and your eyes trained on Jake; though, whatever nonverbal cues he might be sending were too much for you to process in this state anyways. His adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hesitantly. For a moment, his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his lips as he turns his attention to the road, then shifting into drive and starting on the way home without ever replying. 

With his spare key, he opened the door to your place, bringing you to sit on the couch as he took your shoes off, then moving to place them by the front door with the rest of your shoes. In an effort to stay close to him, you get up and try to follow his movements, but the second your bare feet hit the floor, your equilibrium is thrown, and the dizziness has you nauseous now. “Jake.” You mumble out in almost a whine. Jake snapped his head towards you, his gaze landing on your defeated figure and he immediately knew you felt sick. His eyes widen for a split second before he rushes to pick you up. You wrap around him like a koala until he places you back down in the bathroom, which thankfully was the closest room to where you were. 

Jake held your hair back messily with one hand as you threw up, his other hand rubbing gently up and down your forearm. When your body rids itself of the last of your night’s alcohol, you turn around to face Jake, uneasiness still written on all your features. Jake took care of you after every party, but you had never thrown up before, and you were worried this would push him past his limit. 

Instead, Jake lets out a soft chuckle, the hand that was holding your hair now fixing its framing around your face. “You’re so perfect.” He says sincerely, his eyes filled with fondness as he gave a lopsided smile, and before you can even give yourself the chance to get flustered, you’re shaking your head. 

“Perfect people don’t throw up.” You respond sadly, but Jake just sighs, shaking his head minimally in disagreement.

“Everyone gets sick, angel.” He replies calmly. Your face falls blank, eyes impossibly wide. He’s never called you ‘angel’ before, he doesn’t call you ‘angel.’ He calls you ‘y/n’ or ‘n/n’ and that’s it. Calling you ‘angel’ was completely different from that. Jake reads your expression in an instant, a toothy smile adorning his face as he moves to stand. He immediately leans back down to pick you up and carry you out of the bathroom, placing you so that you’re now sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You watch as he moves around your kitchen as if he lived here, first grabbing a cup and celebrating when he saw you still had Sprite in your fridge. He quickly filled the cup before walking back over to you, the drink now extended out for you to take. He raises his eyebrows invitingly as he nods towards the Sprite. “Come on. It will help get the taste out of your mouth.” He says, doing his best to encourage you to take the Sprite from his hands. When you give in and realize you did, in fact, desperately need that taste out of your mouth, Jake resumes his quest in your kitchen. You watch between sips as he gathers a handful of different items, and by the time he’s done, he has a water bottle, Advil, Powerade, and Hello Pandas placed together. 

He turns back to face your confused gaze, answering your questions without you even having to ask. “I’ll bring these over to your nightstand so you have them whenever you need them between tonight and tomorrow morning. I have Advil and water for you, but make sure you also drink the Powerade, okay? You’ll need the electrolytes.” He says confidently. He meets your eyes again before adding on. “Oh! And the Hello Panda box is there just because they’re your favorite snack so I figured you may want some. They won’t necessarily help your hangover, though.” He finishes with a laugh and warmth floods your entire system as you mumble out a weak ‘thank you.’ 

You slowly get down from the counter, helping Jake to carry everything to your room before getting ready for bed. You changed out of your party clothes and into an oversized t-shirt and some athletic shorts, but outside of getting into pajamas, your night routine seemed daunting. You open your bedroom door back up after you finish changing so you can say ‘goodnight’ to Jake, but as he walks in and sees you heading towards your bed, he tilts his head, confused. “Y/n, you still have makeup on.” 

You shrug, sliding your legs under the covers as you sit up in bed. “Too much work.” You get out, and Jake’s features soften. Then, you watch as he exits your room, leaving you to furrow your eyebrows because you were at least expecting him to say ‘bye.’ However, he comes back in moments later with makeup remover from the bathroom and your eyes widen.

He sits on the edge of your bed, his upper body turned to face you as he took a makeup wipe out of the packaging. He looks at it with a frown before facing you again. “I know your actual cleanser is better, but I figure there’s no way I can do that in a non-messy way with you in bed.” He says, a playful grin crossing his face as he no doubt started thinking about the results of cupping water in his hands and running over here. He looks down at the wipe in his hand before making eye contact with you. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay? I don’t know the right amount of force it takes to remove makeup, but I want to make sure I get it all, okay?” He adds, and you just bite the insides of your cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to be this nice. Well…you knew he was this nice, it’s how he’s always been, but with your brain out of whack, it’s considerably harder to tell your body not to turn into a puddle at his actions. So, instead of opening your mouth and risking telling him how perfect he is again, you just nod slowly, and Jake starts wiping off your makeup. 

When he finally gets your face all barren again, you let yourself actually lie down in bed. He moves to throw the used wipes away before heading towards the door. Though, he turns back to you before he leaves your room, a soft smile on his face. “Goodnight, n/n. Call me if you need anything” He says gently, heading back towards the exit of your place afterwards. 

“Jake.” You call out weakly, but he hears it, stopping right away and walking back into your room, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah? Do you need something?”

Your eyes drop to your hands, anxiously fiddling with your fingers while building up the courage to talk again. “Yeah…you.” You say quietly, but Jake picks up on it anyways. His features go soft as he lets out a small sigh. He walks over to where you were in bed, a hand moving to brush your hair out of your face. If you knew how big and pleading your eyes were, you probably would’ve been embarrassed, but you didn’t know, so you continued to stare at him as if he was the entire world. 

“Y/n, you’ve had a lot to drink. With the high probability that you don’t remember any of this in the morning, I don’t want to scare you when you wake up and find me here, too.” He says seriously. You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. Regardless of if he was technically saying all the right things, you hated it. 

“Please.” You beg with wide eyes, and Jake seems to stop breathing for a moment. He finally drops his head to face the floor, shaking it in disbelief.

“Can I run home and change into pajamas first?” He asks, and you smile brightly in response, shooing him out the door so he could get back faster. He leaves with a small laugh and promises of coming back, leaving your heart racing and a permanent smile on your face.

When he returns in his pajamas, he walks into your room almost surprised to see you stayed up waiting for him to get back. He flashes a smile in your direction before grabbing your desk chair and sliding it over near the bed. You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “What are you doing?” 

He looks back at you as though that was a weird question. “About to sleep?” He responds, and your face falls.

“No. You’re supposed to sleep in my bed with me!” You whine, and Jake begins to laugh before speaking softly.

“That was never the plan, angel. I’ll still be right beside you, just not in bed. I’m here if you need me, okay? But I’m not getting in bed with you. Not when it would feel like I’m taking advantage of your drunken state.” He responds as he sits down. The frown doesn’t leave your face.

“But I wanted to hold you.” You complain, and Jake’s face lights up as his smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, you were gonna hold me, yeah?” He teases, and a smile slowly starts to creep back onto your face.

“Yes, I was.” You say confidently before rolling on your back to face the ceiling. “But noooo. You’re sleeping on the chair.” You say, unenthused. 

From your side, Jake chuckles again before reaching his hand out to you. You give it a glance before looking back towards him in question. His eyebrows raise invitingly. “Here.” He says gently. “You can hold my hand.” 

Your face lights up and you immediately slide to the very edge of the bed to take his right hand in your left before bringing it to rest on your stomach. Though you were no longer facing him, Jake’s gaze on you remained soft, and when he began to rub his thumb against the back of your hand, you were asleep in an instant. 

You wake up the next morning with a massive headache and instantly roll over to grab the medicine on your nightstand. That’s when your attention is caught by the sticky note laid on top of the Advil. 

N/n, I’m singing at church this morning, so I am already gone. Please drink your Powerade :) I also made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast if you want the ones left over. They’re in the fridge. Text me sometime today so I know you’re okay, okay? - Jake 

You read and reread the sticky note, trying to figure why he would come make breakfast at your place. It takes about half a second before your jaw drops and your eyes go wide. Jake didn’t just come over to make breakfast; Jake stayed the night. You hide your face in your hands, the embarrassment you felt only adding to your headache as you get out of bed and start to get ready. 

Though chocolate chip pancakes were your favorite, you were in no mood to eat, and instead, you just make the two minute walk off-campus to get to the church that Jake goes to. You got there in time to listen to him sing one last song before the service ended. Then, you stood in the back, waiting for him to eventually get done talking to everyone and realize you’re there. He was talking with the pastor, smiling in response to what you could only guess was a ‘fantastic job’ on his singing today. Then his friends call him over, and he moves to join their circle, but that’s when his eyes land on you. You watch as he freezes before a soft grin comes across his face. One of his friends calls his attention again but he waves them off, apologizing as he leaves their group to come talk to you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks cheerfully, but you just drop your head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night.” You mumble out, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow.

“You’re sorry?” He questions.

You nod your head lightly. “I didn’t mean to make you spend the night…I’m sorry.” 

The cheerful aura surrounding Jake fades away and he speaks slowly, as if still processing your words. “You didn’t mean- didn’t mean it. Um, okay. Uh, just- next time, can you have Heeseung or Sunghoon or just- someone else pick you up from parties?” 

You pop your head back up to look at him, a little confused. “Like, Saturday parties? When you have church the next morning?”

“No.” He replies quickly. “Any party. Just have someone else pick you up.” He says, now facing the floor as you just stare at him in shock.

“I’m sorry that taking care of me last night was so horrible. I didn’t mean to make you upset with me. I don’t even know- did I do something wrong?” You ask, concerned. Jake was your best friend. He was your safe place, that’s why you asked him to be the one picking you up from parties in the first place. He never had a problem with it before, and you rack your fogged memories to try and come up with anything you may have done that had him completely dismissive right now. You didn’t have to think too hard though, because Jake gives you your answer.

“No- yes- y/n, I can’t listen to you beg me to stay the night, get sad when I say I’m not actually sleeping in bed with you, and then have you say you didn’t mean it the next morning…I can’t listen to you call me perfect if you’re going to take it back when you’re sober. I don’t want my feelings getting played with just because you’re drunk. So, get someone else to take you home.” He was visibly sad but his words were stern, and you were standing there speechless.  

“Feelings…” You repeat back softly, and Jake shakes his head in embarrassment, dropping his gaze to the floor once again.

“Yeah, feelings. There’s something you can go laugh with your frat buddies about-”

You cup his face with your hand lightly, forcing him to look your way again. His eyes go wide as you stare at him. “Did you mean it?” You ask seriously. He swallows hard before nodding his head.

“Yeah, angel. I meant it.” He says quietly, and hearing the word ‘angel’ come out of his mouth while sober was enough to make you crumble. You don’t, though. Instead, you grin widely.

“I meant it when I called you perfect.” You respond, and Jake renders still. He looks at you, his emotions scrambled as he blinks rapidly in your direction. You let out a small chuckle. “I came here to apologize because I thought I ruined our friendship by doing so.” 

Jake scrunches his eyebrows at you, more playful than you would expect. “Well, you did.” He affirms, and your eyes go wide with worry. 

“What-?”

“What? I don’t want to be in a normal relationship with you when I could be in a romantic relationship with you.” He replies with a smirk and you swat at him playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“You scared me so bad, Jake Sim.” You say through a laugh. He looks at you with a softness in his eyes that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to, and he moves closer until your faces are just inches apart. 

“Y/n, will you please be my girlfriend?” He asks, his hot breath against your lips making you go crazy. You nod your head, adding a verbal ‘yes’ onto it as Jake leans in closer.

You begin to laugh. “Jake, are you about to kiss me in your church?” You ask, extremely embarrassed. Jake takes a moment to look around at the rest of the people still there before turning back to you and shrugging. 

“Last time I checked, church is where you’re supposed to kiss the person you love…or else, I should probably check in on all those couples that I’ve watched get married.” He says confidently and you smile so impossibly wide it hurts your cheeks. He laughs again, looking at you intently. “Y/n, can I kiss you?” He asks, and you don’t give him the niceties of an answer as you move to kiss him first.

#Jake Sim #Enhypen #Jake Sim one shot #Jake one shot #Jake Sim x reader #Enhypen x reader #Jake Sim fanfic #Jake fanfic #Jake angst? #Jake fluff? #Jake who knows #Nah i'm kidding this is so fluffy and cute #aside from that one moment #Enhypen drabbles #Forgive me for being delusional over Jake in this shirt

[rawrtriesagain]

whats up my dudes guess who's back for another Hall of Shame ~

Diana's back after not learning her lesson the first time. Here's a link to the original Hall of Shame if you were interested. Diakko edition starts today (with this pic) on double the canvas as last time to fit two characters (hence the blurring and pixels if you don't click on the pic itself)

What is the Hall of Shame: Diakko Edition?

Mini event of mine where I will try to draw a little diakko drawing every single day. The caveat is that all drawings MUST fit on this canvas. The event ends when either the canvas is filled or I drop the project and forget about it. If completed, the full thing will be posted on my main art blog, but the event itself takes place here.

Can I participate / How do I participate?

Yea so that's the fun part for all you lovely people: Hall of Shame is actually an art request event. Send me an ask with your Diakko request with these rules:

You MUST mention 'HOS' or 'Hall of Shame' in your ask idc if you're out of letters, cut words if you have to.

MUST be a diakko request meaning them together. I don't care what it is but I don't want no only akko or only diana (until HOS 3).

Come in with low expectations. I will do whatever I feel like it. Do remember your art will have to fit on this canvas so it will most definitely be small and maybe crushed

Enjoy a daily (?) diakko doodle

I'll try to get to as many requests as possible but obvi if the event ends you're out of luck until next time

Why's it called Hall of Shame?

My regulars here know that I have a bad habit of broken promises and not finishing projects I said I would. The name comes from the shame of me expecting to drop the project early on. I didn't expect the first Hall of Shame to actually finish but hey we got a 100% success rate babeyyyy im definitely stirring up trouble doing two characters this time though. You can scroll through this blog to see the whole HOS 1 event if you wanted to