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tastesousweet · 3 months

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (v) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : y/n and matt don't have to like each other to continue this thing of theirs, right?

warnings : implications of sex, alcohol, mention of weed, ???

mickey speaks : THANK U FOR THE LOVE ON THIS SERIES!!! sorry if this part feels shorter than the usual !! things get cute in next few parts...

THIS IS PART FIVE GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST OK

"SHE'S sick again?" remi asks, scooting herself further into the booth.

"yeah, i think it's her sinuses or something. she seemed pretty bummed about staying home, i feel awful." andrea pouts while glancing at the menu.

"she's the only person to ever be sick this often in june," remi giggles.

"we should order something to-go for her then. maybe soup?" erin suggests.

"that sounds nice, i'll text her- hopefully she's awake."

౨ৎ

"i can't keep telling my friends i'm sick." you huff as you walk back into your room to find matt redressing.

"why not?" his voice is muffled through his shirt as he tugs it over his head, leaving his hair ruffled.

you lay yourself on your bed lazily, "because they're smart enough to stop believing me soon."

"and why can't they just mind their business?" he looks over to you before reaching down to adjust the white shoes on his feet.

you stretch an arm out to grab your phone from your side table, mumbling, "you must not have friends who worry for you.”

he shakes his head then sighs, “sure, my friends care about me, but they also know when to leave me the fuck alone.”

“right, and my friends know me well enough to know i’m never asking to be left alone.” your comment comes out with more sass than you intended but you know he doesn't understand (or care to understand) your friendships enough to comment on them. then again, you were the one who brought this up in the first place.

"mmm...right. forgot you're just a little insane," he tsks, looking into your mirror and adjusting his shirt some more.

"shut up, matt," you continue staring at your phone, though it's only open to your home screen because you're far more engaged in the conversation than anything your phone could give you. "okay actually, what should i dooo?" you whine.

"i sure as hell won't know?!" his face twists up as he turns to look at you, "you're a smart girl, i'm sure you can figure it out."

you roll your eyes, "'kay... well maybe i've picked up a hobby...like, i dont know, painting! and i just really enjoy painting all alone, 'cause it helps me...focus?"

matt sarcastically laughs through his words, “you’re weird as shit,” he throws your plush throw blanket (that fell on the floor when you pushed matt on your bed just an hour ago) at you. “alright, i’m headin’ out.”

you don’t even give him a second look, “bye.”

౨ৎ

a few cheers of “ayy” and “look who made it” echo out from across the small alley as matt tucks his keys in his front pocket.

he looks over to see chris excitedly pointing at him with an arm hooked on nathan’s neck and another close friend, elijah, sitting on an oversized couch with a smile.

matt chuckles under his breath and walks closer to them, taking in the rowdy and neoned atmosphere of this downtown bowling alley. “what’s good?” he greets his group of friends.

“what’s good with you?” nathan counters with a grin as he moves to dap up matt.

matt shrugs into the handshake as eli begins to speak and stand up, “yeah, where the fuck are you comin' from?”

“home. don’t worry about it,” matt defends as his tongue guides over his hidden smile with a loose shrug of a shoulder.

“nooo! just say it how it is, matt,” chris says through a bite of nachos, “you slept in late and forgot about boys night, big fucking deal. you’re here now!” he throws his hands up before letting them fall to his sides dramatically.

matt slowly nods his head in sarcastic agreement as he faces his friends, "he's right."

he almost wants to laugh at the fact that chris actually believed his fake-sleeping enough to let him off the hook for "forgetting" their group hangout.

cameron wanders over to the group after taking his turn bowling, “‘kay, nate it’s your turn.” he then quips his chin up with a sudden grin, "hey, matt! about time you showed."

"better late than never," he breathes before joking, "you know i had to let you guys get at least a round in before i got here to start dominating."

“the word choice is a bit insane,” nick exaggerates as he approaches with arms full of bottled water and soda cans, "how about you go get your fucking shoes before you make that kind of claim." he moves around matt to place drinks on the coffee table (decorated with various bowling ball and pin themed clutter that made nick way to happy when first seeing it).

elijah places a hand on matt's shoulder, "i'll come with you, matt."

౨ৎ

"sick baby, i'm home nowww!" andrea yells from the front door.

you mentally gather yourself to continue your deception. you add weight to your eyelids, purposely making them droop and make your voice extra scratchy, as if you'd only just awoken.

andrea's at your door quickly, only tapping it slightly open, not wanting to blind you with the harsh yellowed lighting of the hallway. "hi, you up?"

you tussle under your comforter and give a small nod, "mhm."

"do you think you're like, contagious? i have your soup here and really wanna tell you some shit about tonight." she smiles warmly.

"no you're fine. please come in, i've been all alone and bored as hell," you rub your eye softly for effect.

you feel pretty guilty about this whole thing but you aren't hiding anything tragic from her. and this "illness" hasn't ruined that many hangouts...only the one's that happen to fall on days matt texts you.

"i hate to see my favorite bitch down like this, this soup better make you feel better immediately." she sighs as she comes into your room, noisy plastic bag in hand.

"i know," you lift yourself to sit up against your headboard as she sits next to you, "think i should be all better soon. i can't miss another shift at the bakery."

you were never missing work for matt, but to cover your ass you did miss a day or two of work to show your friends just how "sick" you were. if you were sick enough to stay home from work you surely were sick enough to avoid a girls night or two. but you guess it technically does come down to matt...unfortunately.

"yeah, i'm sure mr. houffman will lose it of you call off again," she giggles, sifting through the bag for your soup and silverware.

౨ৎ

barely a week later and you're feeling the best you have in a while, with the guilt of pretending to be sick no longer following you.

it's the fourth of july so there was absolutely no way you'd be continuing that act. you weren't missing out on a holiday with as many parties as this one.

and when chris asked andrea to get the girls to come party hop for the night, you told her yes immediately.

you're currently sat atop a random kitchen counter as nick moves around to make a concoction cocktail for you. you lean back on your hands to watch as he uses a knife to slice a small lime as garnish. "wow you really have an eye for this shit, nick," you laugh at his focused stare (he tries to compensate for any drinks he's had so far, not wanting to slice a finger off).

"i guess i'm just a natural!" he exclaims as he places the lime on the rim of the plastic cups, "okay, one for you," you take it from him, "and one for me." he grins at you.

"cheers!" you motion your drink towards him and he echoes you before you both take large sips.

your eyes pinch before they grow wide, "...why's it actually...good?" you laugh.

"you bitch! you thought i'd give you a shitty drink?!" he giggles and goes for another sip of his own.

"it's not that-"

you're cut off by matt's voice, "alright, time to dip. everyone's sayin' this place is really weird."

you both look over at him with his mellow attitude and perfectly organized outfit (so that he'd 'have all the colors but not look like a walking american flag'). "what? this place has been a good time so far! right, nick?"

"suppperrrr fun. maybe it's a you problem, matt." he jokes.

"come on, chris is the one who sent me to get you two. you know i would've left you both a few houses back." he teases.

you slide off of the counter easily, "okaaay," you look into his eyes and pat his chest twice mumbling, "someone needs a smoke break," before walking off in search of the door.

"wait y/n!" nick grabs a few sealed jello shots from an ice bucket nearby before rushing after you.

though he doesn't catch up to you before matt does, grabbing your hand, "you don't even know where the fuck you're going."

you breathe out defeated, "i'm sure i could've figured it out. i don't need you bossing me around."

matt pouts with squinted eyes and his head tilted, "sure."

nick comes up to you, continuing to stuff the shots into his jort pockets, "do these shorts make my ass look fat?" he turns to show you his side profile (already giggling before the punchline of his joke lands) that showcases the multiple items shoved into his back pockets and protrude out in awkward shapes.

you and nick both fall into a laughing fit and matt only ghosts a smile at his brother's stupidity before tugging your hand towards an exit. "wait! here, hold this please," you hand your drink to matt and reach your hand out for nick's. when he takes your hand willingly you raise your conjoined hands with a smile, "aw, we're like a little train!"

nick adds to the joke by pretending to be a conductor, exclaiming all the cliche lines he knows to make you laugh.

matt finally pushes a front door open, the warm summer air finally surrounding you once more. the rest of the group chatter along the sidewalk across the street. "my friends!" nick yells.

the three of you make your way down the wooden stairs (that seem to be steeper when going down than they were to walk up), and once you're in the grass your hand drops from matts's as nick drags you across the street quickly to crash into your friends.

remi's face is annoyed and confused at first but changes immediately when she recognizes your face. she throws her arms around you for a hug, "y/n! you were found!" you laugh into her neck as she sways back and forth.

"okay guys i'm thinking we hit up the place that the end of this block, right there. they've got some crazy lights goin' on so it should be fun." chris points in the direction and looks to the group for opinions.

"yeah! let's do it!" nate encourages.

the group begin to walk down the sidewalk (and slightly into the grass) lined with miniature american flags and past the many houses full of people and decorated with fairy lights and expensive garland.

naturally, everyone gravitates into cliques due to the amount of small conversations happening at once.

"that's unreal!" erin adds while hanging her arm on your shoulder, as you both listen to remi's dramatic retelling of some guy's awful flirting with her.

"i''m so over these trash ass men," remi shakes her head.

"tell me about it," erin sighs, rolling her eyes.

just as you begin to add your own opinion, matt taps your shoulder. he seems to always find a way to interrupt you. you glance behind you and see him holding your cocktail from earlier up.

"oh thanks, i forgot you had that," erin leans off of you to give you space to turn around and grab it.

though her eyes linger on matt for a second too long causing him to send her a smile and raise his eyebrows slightly in awkward question.

you feel the tension bite at the air around you and in hopes of escaping it, you turn back around and prompt remi with a new topic to discuss.

only, now you miss when erin gives matt a second glance back- and this time she offers a gentle wave and smile to him, in truce.

౨ৎ

after a few more stops at parties (you all got a little greedy about the free drinks and food which brought three extra "one more"s before deciding to cut it off), you all head to a nearby park to end the night with a firework show.

it was surprisingly well organized, with blankets already laid out around the large grassy area so that anyone could sit and watch whether they'd planned to or not.

the night has started to get the slightest bit cooler which was much needed after such an eventful three hours, leaving everyone exhausted in their comfortable spots; chris resting his head against andrea's full thighs, you next to her with your legs sprawled and arms extended behind you, nick and nathan both sat with their legs crossed, admiring the bright fireworks despite nick's flinching every-so-often.

the blanket next to you hosts erin, remi, matt, and cameron. all laying out as they laugh and talk, which you assume comes from a combination of the edibles they'd all taken at one of the parties and remi's addictingly outgoing nature that can force anyone to want to talk to her.

the booming fireworks go on for another twenty minutes before dying down and leaving the crowd in the dark, smokey air.

as you adjust to standing and take out your phone to use as a makeshift flashlight, you read the most recent of your many notifcations:

MATT - 12:36 AM

you down to paint after this???

you bite at your freshly chapped bottom lip before looking over to matt, who's currently using his hands obnoxiously to explain something he's clearly passionate about to cameron.

you sliently sigh before replying:

YOU -12:47 AM

sure

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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enthyrea · 4 months

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"well, look what we have here. welcome aboard, princess."

a macheresin pirate x prince au that has completely taken over my life. (@salemfrogtrials i blame you)

jake's the captain of the hidden dagger, one of the kingdom's most prolific pirate crews. he's cocky and arrogant and doesn't let anyone get close to him. javy is the crown prince, sheltered from birth and knowing nothing about the world. he runs away one day and gets kidnapped by jake's crew, who are ecstatic to have the prince as ransom. except, they quickly realize that using the prince as a bargaining chip won't work, and javy actually wants to stay.

jake decides to let the prince stay. and of course, they fall in love.

javy learns what it's like to be loved for who you are, not who you're expected to be; jake learns what it's like to be loved despite who you and others think you are.

(natasha is javy's knight who is leading the charge to rescue him. reuben and mickey are part of her crew. the rest of the daggers are a part of jake's crew.)

if you want to hear about the choices behind my designs ↓

jake: long hair and a beard because pirate lol, he's got fancy belts and necklaces and earrings and keeps a sword on him. he's got green on him bc he deviates slightly from your typical pirate color scheme, reflecting how despite his appearance, he is, in fact, a green flag. lol.

javy: his main color is purple because it reflects royalty. on his prince outfit, the orange represents rebellion as its his favorite color and a part of his individuality. he doesn't have his piercings or eyebrow slit before he runs away, but after he joins jake he does (probably a swordfight for the eyebrow). also. he's wearing jake's little belt tassel (the green one) after he becomes a proper pirate and jake gives it to him. he gets jewelry BUT he keeps the purple on his design because he's still a royal after all.

javy’s got white pants and jake has dark pants, and javy’s got a dark top while jake’s is white. it's a representation of their experiences being essentially opposites. HOWEVER they do share the same gold-orange color throughout their design- both on the bottom of their shoes, both on the jewel they wear (javy’s under his collar and jake’s on his belt). jake’s green sashes are closer to yellow on the color wheel which makes it more complementary to javy’s purple. over time, javy slowly gains bits and pieces of jake’s design and vice versa- specifically javy gets jake’s green and jake gets javy’s orange. javy wears dark pants like jake while jake starts wearing dark tops. essentially over time their color choices begin to match each other but they still keep individuality.

okay sorry ramble over. i will be returning to this. please enjoy!

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ouatsqincorrect · 7 months

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ok no one asked for this but i’m going to talk about some of my favorite little details from 1x01

1. the door to emma’s apartment have the words “cast a spell” on them (which apparently was completely unintentional but still pretty cool)

2. i don't think this rubix cube means anything, i just like that we get this tiny little insight into emma here

3. you can clearly see emma’s baby blanket in the background of her apartment, as well as some boxes, which i believe are the same ones that get sent to her in storybrooke later on in the season

4. we see snow with a bluebird in the EF, and then later on, at the school, she’s with a bluebird again

5. i know this has probably been talked about a thousand times but i love that we get this shot of emma driving by the clock store (there are so many good nods to clocks and time in this episode and throughout s1)

6. and then of course, the nod to tinker bell

7. there’s a painting of a pear behind regina, which is what a student hands snow (instead of an apple)

8. speaking of apples, regina touches a clock here and then the shot immediately pans to emma setting her drink next to a bunch of apples

9. when emma crashes the bug, we see a the monkeys from the wizard of oz and then a picture of wonderland (i doubt the wizard of oz one was hinting at s3—they didn’t think that far ahead—but wonderland might’ve been there on purpose)

10. here charming brooding over a bowl of apples

11. there are a lot of fairytale pictures in henry’s room in s1 (kind of looks like one of those crime scene boards lol)

12. also henry’s emails don’t mean anything—i just think they’re funny

13. our first hidden mickey

14. henry's swan night light

15. i love this shot of henry looking at the clocktower but also the fact that the library itself is so decrepit looking in s1

16. of course, the key to the room at granny's that is given to emma has a swan on it

17. this is kind of vague but the ring regina's wearing was actually handpicked by lana parrilla and i just love this little detail (it was meant to show that regina is still hanging onto her darker side and past in the EF)

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat rambles

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c-nstantine · 1 year

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hey, mickey!

Description: Y/N Wayne meets a boy when looking for her father on the Watchtower.

Warnings: none, fluff

Word Count: 0.4k

Should Y/N have been roaming around the Watchtower looking for her father? Probably not, but the Waynes weren't known for their decision-making skills. In fact, they were known for their detective skills which Y/N also lacked.

"Can I help you?" A voice, who sounded to be around her age. Y/N turned around and was surprised to see one of her favorite superheroes. His face mask was hidden, and she could see the handsome boy in the suit.

"Oh, you're Blue Beetle," Y/N said remembering what she read about him in her father's file. Well, it was Damian's file that Bruce took before lecturing him about not having a file on your teammates. Typical hypocrite Bruce behavior.

"How do you know that?" He and the scarab were on high alert.

"Well, the suit with a blue beetle on it is kinda a giveaway but can you help find my dad?" Y/N gestured and Jaime looked down before remembering what his suit looked like.

"Who's your dad?" Jaime asked while trying to cover up his slight embarrassment.

"Batman," Y/N said in a fake gravely voice which earned a small chuckle from Jaime.

"You're Damian's sister. He never stops talking about you and I've seen you on the news," His eyes widened, and realized that he might meet the end of Damian's sword if he continued this conversation. With the way that Y/N was batting her lashes, his possible death may have been worth it.

"Oh, well did you like what you saw?" Y/N saw an opportunity to flirt and took it. It was hard dating people who weren't a hero and Jaime was adorable.

"Y/N?" Bruce said surprised that his daughter made her way to the watchtower, especially considering she was his only civilian child.

"Hi, Dad. I brought you lunch or dinner. I don't know what time it is," Telling time was hard in space. Also, she had yet to see one clock in the entire time that she had been lost on the Watchtower. It was just a sea of endless stars and space.

"Beetle," Bruce said in a dismissive tone. He didn't know what occurred between his daughter and the teenage hero but he was certain that he didn't like it.

"I'll be leaving now," Jaime backed away slowly from the father-daughter duo.

"Bye, Jaime," His name sounded heavenly when falling from her tongue. The scarab belittled him for an increase in his heart rate and Jaime made a mental note to explain what a crush was.

#jaime reyes x black!reader #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle #blue beetle x black!reader #black!reader #black reader #c-nstantine

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julymarte · 8 months

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Making a masterpost of all the twst/octa based pattern i made and shared that i can find on twitter I'm sorry if floyd content is kinda lacking but ftghyjuki yeah sorry didn't find pics for the dorm uniforms but you can find them in my stylist profile feel free to come and visit the lounge as well! and let me know if you find the hidden mickey!

#twst #twisted wonderland #animal crossing #acnh #animal crossing new horizons #patterns #acnh pattern

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oleander-nin · 8 months

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Hi ollie!! Can i request the platonic yan mud dogs with a human reader? Ty!!!

A/N, not important: I'm going to make headcanons for them soon, so yay. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Kidnapping, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 1964

Summary: Your new friends aren't quite what they seem

The rat yokai’s nose twitches as he throws down another card and takes a replacement, his sharp eyes glued on the carefree ogre in front of him. The stolen, broken clock in the corner ticked loudly, puncturing the tense air around the two yokai. It was only supposed to be a quick game, but with the stakes on it, it might as well have been a death match. Danny’s eyes drift over the leader of the Mud Dogs carefully, trying to find a crack in his perfectly curated poker face. The game had been going for longer than expected, each yokai holding their five cards close to their chest, both metaphorically and physically. Leonard’s eyes dart to the clock, taking in the time. He needed to win this before you got out of school.

Leonard throws down his cards the same time Danny does, the ogre grinning smugly at his full house. Danny sneers at his partner in crime, pushing his double set of pairs further away as if they made him sick. Knowing Leonard got to spend the majority of time with you in itself made Danny nauseous. Danny pushes back his seat aggressively and stands up, walking away from Leonard who was still celebrating his win. Mickey would be back with you soon anyway, and while Leonard won the honor of calling the shots, Danny could still claim his own time with you.

After stumbling upon their base by accident when you first discovered the hidden city, the Mud Dogs quickly latched onto you. They were fascinated by you and quickly became attached, inserting themselves into your life as your close friends and protectors. After all, you were just a human. They couldn’t let you go off on your own into the dangers(or so they claimed) of the hidden city.

Leonard watches the rat yokai leave, a smug grin still on his face. You would arrive with Mickey in just a few more moments, kickstarting the Mud Dogs’ day. Danny moves to the kitchen, rummaging through the old fridge and rotten cabinets. His whiskers twitch at the lack of food, upturning his nose to what little they did have.

“Hey Leonard,” Danny says, his torso halfway in the fridge as he shuffles what little food they did have around. Leonard perks up at his voice, watching Danny with a glazed interest. “We ain't got much food left ‘round here. What do you say we bring them up top for a tour of the market while we resupply?”

Leonard taps his fingers against the table, thinking it over. “We don’t exactly have money to buy things.”

“And they don’t have to know that. One of us can distract them at all times so they never notice.”

Leonard leans back in his chair, sighing. They really did need to stock up, but he didn’t want you to find out their criminal ways. Having you be scared of them was the last thing the Mud Dogs wanted. Despite them having found you mid robbery, you had yet to realize that your new friends were some of the most wanted criminals in the hidden city. Not that they were going to hand that information over. They’d hide it from you ‘till the day they died.

Leonard and Danny halt their conversation and turn towards the door as Mickey’s loud voice sounds through the hideout, a clear warning to shut up in case they were discussing anything unsavory that they didn’t want their human to hear. Mickey enters with you by his side, chatting happily with you while you walk together, Mickey more slithering than walking. You wave to the other Mud Dogs, a bright smile on your face. Both Danny and Leonard immediately untense, relaxing near you. Everything would be fine now that you’re here and safe. They would figure it out.

“Welcome, welcome!” Danny purrs, pulling you into a tight hug. “How was the trip over here?”

Danny looks more towards Mickey when he asks, waiting to see if the eel gave any indication of a possible problem. With a quick shake of the eel’s head, Danny was reassured. He returns his attention to the rambling human, his tail twitching as they talk. Leonard walks behind you, leaning over you and resting his chin on your head.

“How ya’ feel about a tour of the city?” Leonard asks as soon as you take a breath between your story about your dream, grinning down at you. Mickey eyes Danny and Leonard in confusion, scrunching up his face. Danny taps Mickey’s tail quickly with his foot, getting him to stay quiet as you squeal in delight.

“Really? You’re finally going to show me around the city?” Your excitement puts the Mud Dogs more at ease, Leonard’s grin growing.

“Of course we are! You’ve been asking for weeks.” Mickey says, quickly going along with it. Leonard nods, pushing you back so he could grab you by the shoulders.

“Seeing the city is something you’ve been looking forward to, and we’d be happy to be your guides. We just need you to agree to a couple rules first,” Leonard says, Mickey and Danny nodding in agreement behind him. Leonard waits for you to nod before continuing, his eyes set on your face. “First off, no running off. You’re to stay by our side at all times.”

“What if I want to go see something?” You ask, a bit miffed you can’t explore.

“Then you ask one of us to come with you.” Danny quickly says, his snout twitching again. “Now, as for the second rule, don’t go chatting with everyone.” Danny boops your nose with a clawed finger, smiling warmly as your face scrunches up. “I know you like to make friends, but most people around these parts aren’t as accepting as us. Just stick by us and you’ll be fine and dandy.”

“Third rule is to listen. If we say it’s time to go, it’s time to go.” Mickey interjects, pulling you into a hug. His squishy body seems to melt onto you and you can feel the electrical current running just below his skin. The Mud Dogs look at you expectantly, none of them moving as they wait for you to listen to their rules. You sigh, realizing it would be futile to fight them on any of the conditions.

“Okay, okay. I agree to your rules.” You say, holding up Mickey’s body as he wraps himself around you. It was an odd feeling holding the eel yokai, the squish of his body being not unlike the plush of a stomach, but around his entire person.

Leonard takes your hand, brushing Mickey off you as he starts to lead you back out of the base and towards the street market. It would be the easiest for the criminals to blend into, and the least patrolled. Mickey taps Danny twice on the arm, signaling for him to fall back with him as Leonard keeps you next him a couple paces ahead. The rat and the eel fall behind, their voices a hushed whisper while their eyes are trained on the surroundings as they exit the safety of the hideout.

“So what’s with the sudden city tour?” Mickey grumbles, having expected to hang out with you in the comfort of the base. Danny sighs, running his hand over his face like it wasn’t his fault they were going on the expedition.

“We were out of groceries, and if we’re planning on continuing up our good graces, we should probably have food for our friend that isn’t rotten.” Danny says, his eyes scanning the perimeter. He could see the way Leonard, despite appearing to be completely enraptured in whatever you were saying, was on edge as well. Danny could only hope the outing goes well. It was his idea after all.

Mickey stays quiet, only grumbling under his breath. The two catch back up to you and Leonard, easily falling into pace with you. The Mud Dogs watch your face light up as the area opens up, the many stalls and lights of the outdoor market making it seem truly magical to an outsider. Leonard glances around, relaxing a tad when he doesn’t see any cops present. This didn’t seem to be too bad an idea after all.

Mickey swipes a coin purse from a passerby’s belt, flashing it to his partners in crime. They would steal necessities, while buying you what you wanted. They just had to time it right so you didn’t grow suspicious. Moving through the market went smoother than expected, many of the people in this area being shady themselves, so most barely flinched when the infamous Mud Dogs showed up to their stalls.

Mickey pulls you to look at some flowers, keeping your back to the others while they swipe different foods from the corners of the stalls. As your eyes widen at the unique markings of the petals, Mickey feels a sense of pride. The hidden city held many treasures, and he felt elated to have introduced you to one. He hangs around you as you admire the flower, running your fingers over its leaves.

“Mickey, (Y/n). It’s time to go.” Leonard calls, catching your attention. You dust off your pants when you stand, Mickey quickly rejoining the others while you make your way back through the market as a group. You trail a step behind, letting them lead the way as your eyes wander. The market felt so alive, as if it was its own entity that breathed air and had feelings. Maybe it was, everything felt possible down here.

You continue to people watch and mindlessly admire the many goods being showcased on stall counters, trying to burn the magic of the area into your brain. As your eyes float along the crowd, they land on a simple piece of paper posted to a pole. Their frayed edges showed true to its age, similar flyers accompanying the one that caught your eyes. It was Mickey’s mugshot, with his description, picture, and a set reward being pasted on the page. Similar ones were next to it, but for Danny and Leonard instead.

You walk towards it almost robotically as your blood runs cold, their crimes being listed in a smaller font under their photos. Every word made your stomach churn, the blood leaving your face and giving it a deathly look. The three yokai you had grown so attached to, the ones you truly saw as your close friends, were criminals. Highly wanted ones, at that, with murder, kidnapping, and robbery being some of their more notable crimes.

“You weren’t supposed to see those.” A steady voice murmurs in your ear. You feel a hand rest on your shoulder, your face turning to look at the disembodied voice you recognized so well. Leonard, his posse not too far behind.

Your stomach drops as you try to take a step back, warning bells blaring through your head. “I uh… I need to go home.”

“We know, that’s where we were heading before you disappeared on us.” Danny scolds, taking your wrist in his own hand. “What happened to agreeing to the rules?”

Your throat runs dry as you try to speak, but it was clear they weren’t expecting an answer. Danny promptly starts to drag you back towards the base, the supplies they had gathered being carried by Mickey and Leonard. Pleas tumble from your mouth as you hopelessly try to tug your wrist away, but Danny’s grip was unrelenting. He never even glanced back at you, his eyes focused on the path home. For once when they walked, they completely ignored you, barely listening to a word you said. It was time to go home, and this time, that’s where you’d stay.

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hadesrise · 10 months

Text

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐈𝐍.

summary ➳ you’re sinfully divine, an addicting drug no rehab could fix. it’s not like mickey wanted to, anyway.

pairings ➳ mikhailo “mickey” milkovich x male reader

warnings ➳ nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!mickey, attractive nerd reader (with glasses n’ shit), rough sex, choking, praise kink, degradation if you squint, pet names, size difference, reader’s a freaking giant with big dick lmao, slight possessiveness, belly bulge, dumbification, dacryphilia

author’s note ➳ mickey milkovich brain rot. also tumblr quality being shit 😠

MINORS & FEM READERS DNI !!

Mickey found himself unable to keep his eyes and hands off of you. He would convince himself there’s nothing to the way he stares at you from across the room, how his eyes would cloud with unspeakable lust as they run along your tall frame, checking out every hidden muscles he knew was underneath your slightly oversized clothing, how he unconsciously licks his lips when you tilt your head back and stretch with a tiny moan of satisfaction over the cracking back bones leaving your lips.

He convinces himself he isn’t into you.

At least, he does in daylight. But when the sun falls and moon rises instead as the sky darkens into a midnight blue, those denials and convincing ends up disappearing into the void within his mind, thoughts consumed by you alone. Your low voice as you speak praises and degrading words to him simultaneously, your hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing while the other grips his hips and no doubt leaving bruise, your hips thrusting relentlessly at a speed he didn’t know you could muster, your fucking cock that’s long and thick and hits every right spot.

There’s a little sense of triumphant in him, the knowledge that only he could ever see you like this — so rough, so dominant, wild, like a beast had been freed from its chains. Your usual angelic demeanor and personality drastically changing behind closed doors as you slowly pick him apart piece by piece, the want and need to break him flashing itself dangerously in your dark and lustful eyes, sending waves of thrilling excitement throughout Mickey’s body.

You had him bent over the cold desk, his wrists pinned to the surface by one of your big hands as the other held his hips in a bruising grip, roughly and relentlessly thrusting into him that had him moaning loudly and spurting series of curses and nonsense words. His hole still tight and almost sucking you in despite how used it already was being a proof that you managed to rearrange his guts into the shape of your own cock, making them perfectly fit against each other.

“(Y/n)— Oh, oh, fuck!” Mickey cried out as you continuously rammed your dick in him, keeping a steady rough pace, grunts leaving your lips once in a while. He had already came three times, the side of the desk stained in his cum and dripping down to the floor, his legs trembling from the overstimulation.

“Take it so fucking well, Mikhailo.” You nearly growled, punctuating your words with strong thrusts that had him seeing stars, your cock reaching deep into his guts with each snap of your hips. “Taking it like a good slut, letting me use your cunt whenever I want...” You let out a dark chuckle, sending shivers down his spine.

“More, please,” He whined and arched his back, both hands gripping the edge of the desk, not even struggling against your tight hold on his wrists. Surely, there would be a hand-shaped mark around them once you’re done with him. “Deeper, fuck, wanna feel it poking my fucking stomach, pleasepleaseplease,” Brain too fucked out to think coherently, Mickey babbled and pushed his ass against you, moaning.

“Look at you,” You whistled, leaning over to lick the back of his ear, making his hips jerk. “So fucking pathetically drunk on my cock. Almost want them to see what a whore Milkovich you are.” The whispered humiliation going straight to his brain and cock, you felt him clench around you as he mewled, tears spilling from his pretty little blue eyes. Even your words alone could make him feel this euphoric, almost cumming right then and there.

Mickey could never get over how you drastically change between morning and night — so divine and angelic in the morning with your hands reaching out to people in need of help, gaze soft and welcoming as melody of kindness and warm heart spill from your lips. You’re soft and warm, practically the epitome of peace with how everyone finds themselves relaxed around your presence. The sunlight creating an illusion of halo above your head. Light colored clothes and round spectacles adding more emphasis to your gentle tall giant persona. However, at night, you pull off that kind and perfect mask only to Mickey, soft smiles turning into cocky or arrogant grins and smirks, atmosphere entirely changing to that of lust and filthiness as your lips speak sinful words that never failed to make his head spin and heart jackhammer against his ribcage. You’re sly and arrogant, and too proud, to say the least. Very very prideful due to the knowledge that only you can manhandle, use, and ruin the Milkovich. An angel suddenly morphing into a sinful being.

He couldn’t get fucking enough of it despite the internalized homophobia tightly attached to his soul.

But with you, he doesn’t have to think about that. Insecurities that are drilled into his mind being pushed back by your sole presence; he doesn’t have to be afraid of being feminine or not matching the Society’s gender stereotype, because with you, he can be weak, vulnerable, good. There’s no toxic masculinity to hold him back.

Mickey was fucking addicted to this angelic sin, and you sure as hell felt the same even though words of confirmation never left your lips.

His mind started to go blank as you angled your hips to adjust your cock inside him, wanting to make sure it perfectly hits his prostate, before abruptly snapping your hips to his. Mickey cried out, nearly screaming when you started going deep and fast on him, the roughness of your thrusts making the desk almost move with each movement. “Oh! Ohhhh, fuck! Ahgh, mm!” His moans were loud, you’re sure the neighbors heard it. The stinging pain of your big fucking dick stretching him more open with each drag of your hips causing him to see stars in pleasure.

“Come on, baby,” You cooed, a big contrast to your relentless pace fucking his brains out. “You can take it more.”

Mickey whines, throwing his head back and eyes rolling back to his skull when you sink into him deeper, he could feel his stomach bulging from the thick and big size of your dick. “F-fuck, too deep... Yesyesyes, please, (Y/n), fuck— Fuck me more.”

He fucking loves it, the way your massive size and height never fails to have complete control over him. How your big body traps him between you and the desk, figure towering over him; it makes it so fucking easy for you to assert dominance and manhandle him however you please. He loves everything about you and your large frame.

“You love it, don’t ya? Having my cock so deep in you that it’s pokin’ your stomach? Ruining you, fuckin’ you dumb?” You chuckled, fastening your pace as uncontrollable moans and whimpers fall from Mickey’s lips. His mind in a daze, drool dripping from his open mouth that long forgot to close itself, fat tears running down his cheeks, the euphoric pleasure becoming too much.

“Y-yes, oh my god!” Mickey moaned, nodding his head vigorously. “Love—love it so fucking much,” He stuttered as another broken moan slips out.

You hum appreciatively, “Pretty little slut.” Leaning over him, your hand reached over to his throat and squeezed, earning a guttural moan from Mickey as his hole clenched tightly and his cock twitched. He tilts his head back and allows you more access to his throat, which encouraged you to squeeze more until he became light-headed.

“F-fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum, gonna cum,” Mickey breathlessly cries out, legs shaking violently as cum spilled from his rapidly twitching cock, vision seeing white and mind going absolutely dumb.

Groaning, you cursed quietly and let go of his wrists to grip his hips with both hands, continuing to pound into his oversensitive hole and ignoring his sobs of stop i just came, followed by screams of pleasure and overstimulation. He’s so sensitive it hurts, but he didn’t want you to stop despite his pleas to. He wanted you to use him, be your cum dump until you’re satisfied, wanted you to fill him to the brim and feel the white sticky cum dripping down his legs. He wanted you to take your frustrations out on him. He wanted to be your toy.

Mickey knows you know that. You know how he feels and how he thinks. It made excitement course through his veins, knowing you’re willing to fulfill every bit of his unspoken desire. You were angelic like that.

“Such a good boy,” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and making goosebumps rise on his skin. “Gonna make me cum, aren’t you? Let me fuck you ‘til I’m satisfied like a good boy, hm?”

“Yes, yes,” He nodded dumbly, slamming his hand against the desk and arching his back. You snapped your hips harshly, which made Mickey’s eyes roll back into his head as he came once again with a guttural moan, painting the side of the desk with his seed.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” You groaned, slamming your dick into him mercilessly, uncaring of how Mickey’s legs were giving up as your hands are the only thing that kept him up. His toes curling, nails scratching on the desk’s surface, sobs wrecking through his body. God, you were fucking ruining him. It made you shiver with sadistic thrill. Your thrusts slowly becomes sloppy with your own orgasm getting near, cock twitching inside him.

“In me, fuck, in me, please.” He whined, reaching back to grab your hand that was gripping his hips.

A grin spreads across your face and you intertwined your fingers with his, “Of course, sweetheart. Wouldn’t cum anywhere else.” You thrusted harshly a few times before burying your cock completely inside him as the orgasm hits, filling every bit of him with moans erupting from your throat. Mickey mewls, followed by a whimper, feeling the warmth inside, face showing absolute bliss. He touches the formed bulge on his stomach while letting out soft moans and whimpers, seemingly in trance.

Thrusting sloppily to ride out your high, you press kisses on his back before sinking your teeth on his shoulder to leave a bite mark. Mickey’s hips buckled, moaning.

“You’re mine, Mick.” You mutter in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “No matter how much you deny, you’re mine. And at the end of the day, you’ll always come back to me, begging to be fucked and stuffed full.” Wrapping your hand around his throat again, you squeezed lightly as Mickey whimpered at the possessive gesture. “Can’t escape me forever, sweetheart.”

Mickey closes his eyes, humming and melting against your body, the denial dying down deep within his mind, looking almost in content.

He wouldn’t dream of it. You’re an angelic sin he could never repent of.

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years

Text

it's classified | b.r.b. (2/2)

<<<read part 1 here>>>

pairing:��bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: what was supposed to be a simple one-night stand during the training for your upcoming movie turns into an epic strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-lovers adventure… 10,000 feet in the air.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: language, more behind-the-scenes nerdiness, mention of menstrual cramps, La La Land reference lol, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, smut [dirty talk, oral (f), fingering, overstimulation, protected sex], rooster is secretly a softboi, reader is so stubborn skjdhfksjdhf

notes: here we are, part 2! they're my new precious baby can't you tell? please join me in this dumpster fire. reblog, send me asks, talk to me bc a bitch is horny, okay???? happy reading!

✨ i do not have a taglist. follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

iv. Jimi Hendrix — Purple Haze / John Mayer — Do You Know Me

The first couple of weeks are rough. The flight training is hell —even when the G-Force doesn’t feel as bad and you start to enjoy the view of the mountains and the sea and everything else in between, you’re still locked in the box with Rooster. Day in, day out.

The only reprieve in this pre-production is the filmmaking workshop. Not only will you be flying in the actual jet, but you will also have to handle all the technical aspects while you’re in the air. Sound and makeup and props and cinematography… everything that has to do with filmmaking —and nothing with Rooster. At least on those days, you get a break from his insufferable mug.

“Morning.” The man in question walks into the classroom in his khakis, fitted to his form, taking the empty seat right in front of you.

“Um, what are you doing here?” You lean forward over your desk, whispering quietly. Careful not to raise any attention.

He turns around, resting his elbow on your desk, and answers quite matter-of-factly, “They asked us to come in. Something about making sure everyone’s on the same page to get the lighting and the framing and the… everything right.”

Like clockwork, the door opens again, and this time Lieutenants Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin stroll in, deep in conversation with the movie’s leading man John Cho. They take the front row seats, greeting the class with a brief nod.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “That’s… great. Welcome to filmmaking.”

“Happy to be here.” To everyone, it sounds like ordinary passing niceties. But you know better. You hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. The pettiness of making your day absolute dogshit with his presence.

The two of you exchange a tight, wry smile as Scott, the first AD, opens up the session. There’s no snarky remark, no quippy comebacks. Not when anyone else is around —or the comm lines are open. Neither of you would risk being less than professional in the workplace. No matter how much you detest each other. No matter if your effort to deter each other from this project only seems to only bring you closer together.

As the old saying goes, you make plans and Kevin laughs and assigns Rooster as your designated pilot.

Which is why you’re now strapped into the cockpit with four cameras in your face, a makeup pouch hidden in your flight suit, and a notebook scribbled with cheat sheets of instructions and technical notes. Hovering above the California mountains, 1,000 feet in the air.

“So what’s our plan here, Houdini?” Rooster says over the comms.

He damn well knows what the plan is. Whether he asks to test you or let you take the wheel as ‘in-flight director’, you have no idea. “I need the sun on my 2 o’clock. When I call ‘action’, we’re gonna head north and floor it while I say my line, and then we do a hammerhead.”

“Up or down?”

So he was testing you. “If we go down, we’ll crash,” you say it like it’s obvious —because it is. But you confirm anyway, “Hammerhead up, Rooster.”

He chuckles. “Copy that. Ready when you are.”

Today, of all days, you’re not gonna let Rooster rain on your parade. You stare at the panel before you, giddy as you press the mic button, “Sound speed…”you announce with a clap to mark the track. “Camera rolling…” you straighten in your seat a little. “Let’s go. First take of the shoot. Scene 49, shot 13, take 1. And…” You take a deep breath, and hear Rooster doing the same. Inhale… exhale…

“Action!”

You’ve played characters which transformed your appearance and mannerisms in small, intense dramas set in Butt Fuck Midwest. You’ve acted opposite tennis balls and green screens in those movies with more money than sense. You’ve been through the wringer. But never in your life would you have imagined playing a pilot on the back of an actual, accelerating F-18 over real terrain.

And everything else falls away. There’s just you and the sky and the story.

No more airsickness. No more nerves. No more games with Rooster.

Even he seems to understand that. Since that day, he’s gotten off of your back a little bit when you’re in the air. Things aren’t in great terms, by any means, but at least there’s no backhanded remarks. None of the usual unease. The two of you just stayed in your own lanes.

“We got you, Trickshot. I got the bandit on my sight. Locking target…” your voice is calm, even at top speed. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” The aircraft does an aileron roll, maneuvering a full 360-degree. You let the cameras roll for a moment, taking off your mask as you breathe a sigh of relief as the jet goes upright again.

“Nice,” you hear Rooster say under his breath as soon as you call ‘cut.’

“What?”

“Nothing.” There’s a slight pause, and you can imagine the side-eye he always does. “Reset?”

“Yeah. Let’s… do it again.”

The butterflies in your stomach are pleasant, and you’re sure it’s the adrenaline from pulling sustained G’s on low terrain. Not so much from things… easing up between you and Rooster.

Never from Rooster.

But things do ease up. You’re not quite friends, and at this point you’re not expecting to be, but things dissipate into a more… civil acquaintance. A working professional relationship. The kind where you give each other opinions about the work.

“I like the previous one better,” he casually comments during a quiet lull one day.

You’re in the middle of adjusting your helmet for continuity, and you stop dead in your tracks. “You were paying attention?”

“‘Course. I had to.”

You’re not sure which one is more surprising; that he’s listening in on all the takes you’ve done, or that he’s right. Come to think of it, it’s probably the first time you’ve actually agreed on something. And it’s… not too shabby.

Not too shabby at all.

But of course, not every day is a good day. Some days, like today, you’re filming an intense dogfighting scene while having the most excruciating period cramps. You’ve taken some ibuprofen earlier, but either it has worn off or the cramps multiply with the G-Force, but it doesn’t seem to be working —if any, you seem to be in even more pain.

“So, from the top?”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve pointed out how he’s using performance lingo now. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a sec.” A deep breath as you brace yourself. And another. “Alright, let me just set it up real quick —” a squeezing pain shoots up your spine and you let out a strangled grunt.

“All good back there?”

“Mm-hm. Just… just cramps is all.”

“Stretch your legs. Try wiggling your toes.”

You chuckle ruefully. “It’s not that kind of cramps.”

“What —oh. Oh. Shit. Um… Do we —do we need medic? Do we need to land?”

“What, and leave your boy Hangman hanging?” you chuckle wryly, throwing a two-finger salute at the pilot in the jet hovering next to yours. Behind you is Kevin in the Cinejet, ready to shoot the dogfight sequence from a bird’s eye view. There’s no way in hell you’re tapping out now. “Nah, it’s cool. Let’s do it again.”

“Right…” the hesitation is palpable in his response, but he goes along anyway. “But you head over to the infirmary when we’re done, okay?”

You almost forget how caring he can be, even amidst the chaos and the simmering animosity. He doesn’t pull back on the aerobatics, although he’s a lot steadier in between takes—even more so than usual. He follows up on that promise as soon as you hop out, and tightly offers to help you. You wave him off, saying it’s fine I’m fine, gritting your teeth as the muscles inside you contract painfully. He notices, undoubtedly, but he gives you space and lets you walk yourself to the med bay. It’s… sweet.

What you don’t expect is seeing him in the basecamp hangar just an hour later. Sitting in a quiet corner, out of the crew’s way —a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in the other. Hair mussed up from the helmet, a furrow between his eyebrows as he focuses on his screen.

You’re on the way to the video village, but you can’t help making a beeline towards him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to fly John out.”

“I let Fanboy take the wheel,” he looks up at you and immediately scoots over, and you try not to think about the row of empty seats around him. It’s only polite to take the seat he’s inadvertently offering you. “It’s not everyday he gets to fly Hikaru Sulu himself.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s a Star Trek fan.” You fondly recall the unmistakable font on the pilot’s helmet.

He nods. “You, uh, you good?”

“Better now.” You lean back against the chair, and tilt your head to the side like you’re letting him in on a secret. “I don’t know if you’ve ever pulled 7 G’s while you’re bleeding from your core and your insides are tearing itself apart, but that’s… an experience.”

You swear you hear him smile a little. “I don’t think I have. But you held up really well.”

“Thank you,” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you realize it’s not just for his compliment. Or for caring.

For everything.

“Nah, it’s cool.” He seems to get it, if the pensive looks on his face was any indication.

“I know things weren’t always easy between us. We got off on the wrong foot —”

“Oh, I think we got off on the right foot,” he corrects you, somewhat amused, “until you stepped on it, steel-toed boots and all, broke the bones.”

You see the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes—the one that goes along with his corny one-liners— and you laugh. “Come on, will you let me have my moment here? Shit.”

He laughs with you, quiet but warm. It’s probably the first time you shared anything more than a gruff hmph in months, and it feels… nice.

“Okay, okay. You were saying?”

You turn to look at him —really look— and suddenly you’re overcome with the need to hold his hand. You don’t, of course, but you settle for the next best thing. “It’s just… I’m glad that we work well together. Despite everything.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, it’s…” he brushes it off. “I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before either, and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.” His eyes find yours, and you question, is he still talking about flying? “You’re really good up there —I mean, I wouldn’t know shit about acting or directing, but you’re… tough. And efficient.”

It’s a funny compliment, but you take it. It puts you at ease, knowing that neither of you has a good enough grasp of the situation to act cool. “Thanks, Roo-Roo.”

He scrunches his nose, but his smile is palpable. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious, Houdini. It’s bad for my rep.”

“Sure it is.”

There’s no edge to his warning, just as there’s no stiffness in your answer. It’s a light, familiar banter that the two of you so easily fall back into. For a second, you wonder how you’ve gone this long without it. It’s one of the best things about him. This light, affable air around him, whether you’re tumbling in his sheets or flying in his jet.

(Never the former. Not anymore.)

A jet taxis back into the tarmac, fresh from a flight, and the two of you watch John and Fanboy hop out of the plane, talking animatedly as they walk back into the hangar. It warms your heart to see that, knowing full well the buzz, the adrenaline of a flight well done yourself.

“You were right, by the way.” you nudge Rooster’s knee with yours.

“Hm?” He makes no effort to move his leg, and for a nice, quiet moment, you’re just sitting knee-to-knee. Comfortable. As intimate as it can be.

And with the orange sky sprawling outside, you’re ready to admit it,

“It is so much more than clouds and oceans from a tiny window.”

***

v. Melt — Stupid in Love / Taylor Swift — Cornelia Street

Rooster is a friend.

He works well with you at rehearsals in the wooden aircraft mockup, clear as precise as he is on the field. In the air, he stays in his lane —although his dry, off-the-cuff remarks are always a nice addition to your flights.

And in between all of that, you learn new things about him everyday; where his callsign came from, why he thinks tea is just brown garbage water, how he likes musicals and old romcoms —a fact he’s embarrassed about, until you unabashedly admit that you like the same thing.

If that revelation turns into a movie night at your place, and said movie night becomes a regular thing, you try not to think about it too much. In fact, you try your damnedest not to think about it at all. Rooster is a friend, and friends hang out and watch movies together… right? The fluttery feeling in your stomach is completely baseless.

Completely without any valid reason.

“I still think his character is an insufferable fuckhead who takes jazz too seriously,” Rooster turns up his nose, looking at Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone on your TV screen, “But when they started floating and dancing and shit… ugh!”

“I still can’t believe you’re a sucker for this kind of movie,” you shake your head at him with an amused grin.

“Look. With everything that goes down everyday at work, I need something light, low-stake, and as far from my job as possible. And seeing people dance among the stars and all that… it’s like a massage for my brain,” he hums in satisfaction, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What about you?”

“Hm? What about me?”

“You do movies, you’re watching a movie. Doesn’t this still feel like work to you?”

“Well, yes and no. There are times where I watch movies to study, but I also like doing it just for kicks, you know?” you answer thoughtfully. “Besides, I’ve gone through all the stages of grief with La La Land.”

“Why?”

You take your time to craft your next words delicately, without sounding like a pathetic humblebrag. “The, uh… director wrote it with me in mind.”

“What?!”

“Yeah…” you wince. “Damien approached me before he even had a script. We workshopped drafts after drafts after drafts… and then the studio decided I wasn’t a big enough name to sell the movie, so.” You shrug lightly. It’s not so much the memory that makes your heart twist, but rather the quiet look of guilt washing over him. It was his choice of movie, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have —you know.”

“Nah, it’s cool. The movie turned out great. And I turned out fine. I mean, look at me, I’m in Top Gun, for fuck’s sake.”

He puts his arm around your shoulders comfortingly, although you feel your pulse picking up from the contact. “And you’re killing it.”

“Thanks, Roo.” You allow yourself to lean on his shoulder. The smell of sunscreen and aftershave is faint this time, but it’s still the same embrace. Same warmth.

Same man.

The featherlight patterns he draws on your bare arm feels so loud in the silence. You can almost see the buzzing heat emanating from your skin. Time slows down, and opportunity presents itself the more you try to repress it. And at this point, you’re not sure you have any strength left to fight it.

Instead, you bury your face deeper into him, pressing kisses along the broad plane of his shoulder. Up his neck. Along his jaw. Chaste. Tender. You half-expect him to pounce on you —to take the reins on this drawn-out affair— but he… doesn’t. He just melts into you. Letting you close the distance to his lips.

It feels like a fever dream. Your body moves on its own accord —deepening the kiss, straddling his lap, touching him everywhere— but your mind… There’s so many thoughts, one conflicting with the other, that you don’t even know where to start.

“God, I want you so bad…” he mutters under his breath, mouthing your breasts over your clothes.

And honestly, why would you deal with the chaos in your head when you can enjoy this?

Roo hikes up your shirt, his rough callused hands gentle against your skin as he tugs it over your head. He unclasps your bra with one hand, mouth hot against your soft flesh and diamond-hard nipples. It’s easy —too fucking easy to fall into this… routine, if you could even call it that. You’ve only been here twice, but he touches you like he knows you.

“Can I taste you?“ Bradley quietly whispers, and you realize, this is the only thing he hasn’t done. “Please?” He tugs at your lower lip with his teeth, teasing. Pleading. “Been thinking about it for ages…”

Jesus. This man is gonna be the death of you.

His tongue slips into your mouth again, filthy and messy and you’d laugh at how much this screams ‘cheesy 80s romance’ if you hadn’t forgotten how words work. “Well?”

You look at him like it’s obvious—because it is.

“Need you to say it.” There’s a smirk in his sing-songy voice.

“Roo…” You blink heavily at him. “Eat my fucking pussy, please.”

His hands are on your waist and the next thing you know, you softly land on your back on the couch. He finds the waistband of your shorts and pulls everything down in one go, yanking them off and throwing it over his shoulder. His mustache tickles you as he kisses your ankle, along your calf, the inside of your knee. Teeth grazing as he makes his way up your inner thighs. Tongue licking up the dripping arousal on your cunt. And just like that, he renders you speechless.

Scratch that. He renders you entranced.

There’s something so sinful about the way he eats you out. You really shouldn’t be surprised —you know he’s a good fuck— and yet here you are. Clutching the back of his head, fingers tangled in his sun-kissed hair, hips chasing —dancing with his tongue as he drinks you in, from your opening to your clit.

The words are lost. There’s just hot breath and the strongest desire to taste him on your lips. And as his hand plays with your tits, you grab him by the wrist, taking it up to your mouth. Kissing his knuckles.

Sucking his finger.

“Holy fuck…” he moans into your pussy, and you swear you nearly come on the spot.

But he takes his hand away, gently, heavily, and brings it down to where he’s ruining you. All wet and ready, his fingers slip inside you, coaxing pleasure with every curling motion. From there, it’s a losing game for you. Then again, if making you come is victory, being struck with aftershocks of overstimulation is not a bad consolation prize. Not at all.

“Fuck. Please…”

“Please what? Please stop?” He kisses your cheek, slowing down the torture of his hand but not quite stopping. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the coy smirk in his voice. “Or keep going?”

Fuck him, you think to yourself. But instead, what comes out of your mouth is a plea. “Fuck me, Roo…”

Your eyes meet in a fleeting moment of wanting, and for a moment, the two of you move in a frenzy of lascivious kisses and hands groping and discarding whatever articles of clothing he has left. You unbutton his jeans, taking in his strained groan when you palm his hard-on through the offending material, when he suddenly stops.

“Wait. Shit, I don’t have a —”

“I do,” you quickly cut off. Then, pulling him up to his feet, you lead him down the hallway, “Bedroom.”

“Show me the way, honey.”

Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity, or maybe it’s what he called you, but something sobers you up. Not completely, but just enough that the nagging voice in the back of your head starts sounding off.

He seizes you from behind when you get to the foot of the bed, turning you around and kissing you. “Hi,” Roo smiles into your lips. It would’ve given you sweet butterflies, if your stomach wasn’t already twisting all of a sudden.

“Where is it?” he asks, and it takes you a second to remember what he was referring to.

“Um. Top drawer on the left.”

You’re sure he’s taking off his pants, finding the condom and putting it on in record time. But even then, it’s plenty of time for your mind to spiral. What does this mean? Are we gonna go through that awkward phase again? What are we?

He pulls you into his lap, and you hardly notice him settling on the side of the bed. His cock is lined up at your entrance and his lust-blown eyes gazing up at you. “Ready?”

Ready for what?

You barely sink down on his cock, when the words somehow just come out. The words that you didn’t even know were in the back of your mind. “We should wait.”

“What?” His voice is airy, like he’s not entirely here with you, but it’s immediate —as is the way he stops moving into you.

“We should wait before we decide if we really wanna do this.”

“As in fucking?” he looks at you, hazy. Confused.

“As in… whatever arrangement we’re getting ourselves into here!”

“Oh.” He pauses, thoughtful. And then, “Okay.”

“Okay?” you echo. It can’t be that easy, right?

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you wanna fuck?”

“No. I mean, I do, but…” he swallows heavily, “I like you. A lot. But… Jesus, can we not do it while I’m halfway inside you? It’s really hard to focus.”

A chuckle escapes you as he drops his forehead onto the crook of your neck. Your hand caresses the back of his neck gently. “Okay, okay, okay.”

But he lifts his head again —concern written all over his face as he asks you tentatively, “Unless you don’t wanna do this?”

“No, I do. I do.” And you mean it. His length stretches your inner walls and flexes inside you so invitingly. But the more you try to brush it off, the more persistent it stays in the forefront of your thought.

He lifts you just enough to pull himself out, and then he sits you back down again on his lap. Hands secure around your waist. “Talk to me, Houdini.”

There’s no perfect time to have this conversation. But that night, sitting naked in your bed, joined together but not quite, is probably as good as it gets. You take a heavy breath to brace yourself before you ask the ultimate question.

“What do you want out of this?”

He smiles simply, and it terrifies you that there’s hardly any hesitation in his answer. “I just want you. In every way I can get. I don’t think you ever knew that.”

And the fucked up thing is, you do. You would never admit it —not even to yourself— but part of you always knew. It’s just easier not to acknowledge it, considering everything at stake.

“This is too important to me. Relationships are complicated and messy and… what if we fuck up along the way? We’re just gonna get stuck in the cockpit in shitty silence for the rest of the shoot? We have six months left, Roo. I can’t—we can’t. We shouldn't.”

“Okay.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He simply remains thoughtful, careful. “But don’t you think sex will make things complicated and messy, too?”

“Possibly. But at this point, I don’t think I can stay away from you anymore,” you quietly admit. Then, as soon as it comes out of your mouth, it hits you. “Bleargh, that’s so corny.”

“It rolls off the tongue really nicely, though, right?”

“Yeah, it really does.”

You share a quiet chuckle together, a small moment of reprieve amidst the tension. It’s nice to know that, even stripped down in all senses of the word, things haven’t changed that much. You’re still… you.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

You straighten up, switching back to serious mode. “If we fuck, we fuck. But that’s it. This is not a relationship. We’ll decide if we still want that by the time we’re done filming, or if we wanna just…” you make a motion of parting ways. “But we wait until the end of the shoot, you hear me?”

“Okay.”

It’s too easy, and as honest as he seems, you almost don’t want to trust it. “Promise me. Not a moment sooner.” You cup his face, so he’ll look you in the eye and give it to you straight. “Roo-Roo.”

But then his eyes pierce through you, so sweet and tender, and you hope to God he’ll keep his words because you sure will. “You need to stop calling me that.” he gently, harmlessly chides you. “But yes,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning into your lips,

“I promise.”

***

vi. Zoo Culture — Sundress

It’s been three years in the making, with COVID delaying the release multiple times, but you’re finally sitting alongside your co-stars in front of the live audience of Graham Norton, promoting the movie before the London premiere tonight.

“So Y/N, we’ve talked about pushing the boundaries of cinema and the insane stunts you did in this movie —but that’s not all. Your husband is actually the real pilot flying your plane in those aerial sequences.”

“Well, he wasn’t my husband yet at the time. But yeah, that’s how we met.” Your eyes flicker towards the audience, knowing the person in question is sitting in the back row.

Graham gapes at you. “That’s amazing.”

“Love was literally in the air,” your co-star Jordan Fisher comments, earning a laugh from the studio audience.

“So, how did it happen? Did you guys just cozy it up in the jet or what?”

“There’s no room to cozy up in the jet.” You chuckle. “I mean, we spent about a year, training and rehearsing the sequences on the ground and filming the actual thing, so we’d gotten to know each other a bit.” It’s a gross understatement, but a necessary paraphrase. “But on my last day, we were in the air and —I just finished my very last take— and right after I turned off my camera and mic, he said through the comms,” you put your hand over your mouth, mimicking the static over your best Rooster impression. “‘Hey Houdini. How ‘bout I take you out for dinner when we get back on the ground?’”

“And what did you say?”

“‘You smooth motherfucker!’”

The whole studio erupts into laughter and applause. That line is true, and Roo still rolls his eyes playfully whenever you reach this part of the story.

“That is a Hollywood romance plot right there,” Graham gushes excitedly.

“Listen, he’s seen me puke my guts out, pull myself together, and then go back to pretending to do his job for a living. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” you say matter-of-factly, “He was like, ‘Yep, she’s the one.’”

Graham turns to your co-stars Jordan and John Cho. “And did you guys know about this? Did you see sparks flying?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure,” Jordan replies without missing a beat. “I don’t know if they knew what was going on at that point, but we knew it was gonna be a thing,” he says, as John nods vigorously in agreement.

“That’s not entirely true,” Roo casually comments as he turns off the TV, striding into the ensuite hotel bathroom.

“What?” You look up and meet his gaze through the mirror, as you take off all your jewelries —the earrings, the bracelets, everything save for the

He strides closer to you, bow tie undone, sans blazer, helping you take off the many necklaces you’re wearing. God, he looks good. “What you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“You never threw up in the cockpit, ever. And we weren’t technically just friends when I asked you out that day,” he points out. “I distinctly remember you calling it a ‘situationship’ back then.”

It makes you smile and turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck while he holds you by the waist. “Let the public have those funny anecdotes.” Toying with the soft strands on the back of his head, “The real version, our version, is… classified.”

He pulls a face. “Bleargh. Who taught you to be so corny?”

You scoff, swatting his chest for ruining the moment. “You did, asshole!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Rooster giggles, kissing your face all over. “No take-backs now. You’ve told the world that I’m your guy. You’re stuck with me forever.”

He may put on a smug grin as much as you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, but you both know two things: that you are stuck with each other forever, and that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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